Sunday, May 30, 2004

I can't sew

If life were a quilt it wouldn’t be attractive. It wouldn’t be the kind that hangs on some wall with no real purpose other than to look pretty. It wouldn’t be in a museum or even locked away in an old cedar chest. It would be the old tattered raggedy looking thing than you love to pull around yourself when sick. The one worth having wouldn’t be the display model, but would be the one that has a stain in the corner from where as a child you spilled a touch of grape juice. It would be the one that was made up of patches from old loved articles of clothing. It would be both dark and light, have varying textures, would smell like childhood, have one or two holes, would have tear stains, and its tattered form would be held together by a thread.

There are some days where you wish you could hide away with the quilt pulled over your shoulders. These are the days that you run your hands along the fabric of your life. You see a light blue patch that brings you happily back in time to a single moment where you remember twirling in the kitchen wearing the blue dress that the patch was cut from. Your fingers brush across the frayed edges when your mind travels to the moments that you wish you could forget and to the current struggle you are having within your life. Eventually though your hand will travel away from the frayed edges and back onto the whole, onto the colors and patterns of your life. If you’re lucky, in that moment you can see the whole. You can see that your life isn’t made up of the edges, but rather the various squares of color. Sometimes you just have to move away from the edge.

As you can tell from my melodramatic wanderings, it’s the end of the month..... Bill time. It’s the time where you sit down and have to add up your wins and failures. You have to find a way to stay afloat when adrift. You have to prepare for the next month, when you will begin the cycle of treading water once again. Have I mentioned that I hate bills and bill collectors? I realize that you have to make a living, but upon accepting that job you are also accepting that I refuse to be polite when you call me in the early morning hours asking for something you know good and well I don’t have. If I did, you wouldn’t have to call. So I’ll just tinker online tonight (heh you can’t call if the phone is busy) with my blanket over my legs and forget about you for now.... well that and come up with a sure fire way to pick the winning lotto numbers.

“The wages of sin are death, but by the time taxes are taken out, it's just sort of a tired feeling.” -- Paula Poundstone

Tuesday, May 25, 2004

Doh...

Have you ever had a day where you have to stop because you come to the realization that you're monumentally stupid? I’m talking about those moments of clarity when you discover that those moronic acts that annoy you are also the ones you’re guilty of. We don’t tell people of our insanity or odd quirks. No, we tuck them away as if they were a national secret until someone stumbles on them by accident. If we would have been upfront and told people that we were insane they wouldn’t be shocked, but no we wait until they can witness it for themselves. Today I had one of those moments of clarity.

It seems I am one of those people that will moan and groan (not a pleasant sight) over the price of gas and will go so far as to drive around town looking for the lowest gas prices. So in other words, I will drive, thus using gas, an extra 20 minutes out of my way to get gas that's 3 cents cheaper. Have I saved anything? No. Especially if you factor in the time I spent along with it. So what I end up doing is probably spending an extra buck with the delusion that I’m saving money. On the other hand I wont even bat an eye when I then go and spend money on a lotto ticket. Again I’m seriously thinking that I have a chance to win. In fact it’s my master financial plan. I’ll even spend money on silly putty (I kid you not). I’m notorious for over tipping, yet I will drive 45 mins longer to find a grilled chicken sandwich that is one dollar cheaper. Who the hell am I kidding? It’s not like I don’t have the ability to do simple math.

Now I’m sure I’m not the only one that does these things. So why do we hide our quirks from others? I find them to be the most interesting things about someone. None of us are perfect, so isn’t the meat of a person in the imperfections? Hell, I say we celebrate our quirks! The next time you're talking to yourself in the car and you realize someone is watching form another car... Don’t pretend like you were singing along with the radio... Roll down your window and ask them for their opinion. When you trip because for some reason your legs thought there was another step... Don’t get upset.... Point out to those around you that there isn’t a stair there and someone must have stolen it. Wouldn’t it be better if we enjoyed and laughed over these supposed faults or goofs? I’ll start... As I type this right now I have a *huge* blue smudge on my cheek because I had the cap in my mouth while I tried to recap the *permanent* marker one handed. So now I’ll go into the grocery store for a Mountain Dew tonight with my head held high and blue on my cheek. LoL.

Pup-Date:

I told you yesterday about the hippopotamus that the puppy of doom was trying to teach to swim. I refuse to think that she was rejecting my gift seeing as though at the moment she is sleeping with it. So I thought I’d post a picture of the little mongrel and her buddy... As you can see her ears have started growing independently. They use to be tilted the same... now they each are doing their own thing. Yes I know she looks a bit silly, but it couldn’t fit her more... It's not the best picture in the world, but it's not easy to get that thing to sit still.

“When you become senile, you won't know it.” -- Bill Cosby

Monday, May 24, 2004

U giv SPAM?

So here it is... the truth of all truths. It’s the inescapable universal fact... sometimes life sucks. It’s true for everyone, so why is it that some people seem to believe that they alone have to deal with this? Or there are people that think there’s some kind of cosmic tote board that tracks the number of good days you’ve had and at some magical number unleashes a rip-roaring bad day? Where would we be if we didn’t have one of those days that make you want to run and hide under your bed? You’d never appreciate the mundane day that isn’t exciting and tends to be the majority of your days? So there are people out there who can only see the bad in everything and will inevitably grab hold of a dip in their road and turn it into the fall of civilization as we know it. Sometimes I want to freak out like that.

I want to hide under my bed with a bottle of water, a can of spam, and duct tape until the storm passes. (Of course there has to be duct tape... duct tape is essential for any kind of quality of life). I’d crawl under there when, for example: my hair looks like a cyclone hit it, I find out that a friend really isn’t, I spill a cup of coffee that cost more than a tank of gas all over me, find out that what I’m eating had been expired for a few days, my puppy eats my drivers license, I do my budget and discover that I wont be making my rent this month, I blow up the kitchen while trying to make mini muffins, my car breaks down and will cost me my first born to fix, I get a traffic ticket, I have to run the judgmental gauntlet AKA family get-togethers, or I just woke up late. But no... I have to be an adult.

Here’s the thing. We spend our childhoods waiting to be an adult able to make our own decisions. Once we become an adult we realize that it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. We actually find that we wish we didn’t have to be one. I don’t want to have to choose what I’ll be doing with my life now. I mean it was great when I used to be able to say, “When I grow up I wanna....” Now I am grown up and I don’t have an answer.

Oops. I shouldn’t have snickered at Penny Mitchell in 5th grade when she unveiled her 5 year plan. She’ll prolly be the first female president, and I’ll be her chauffeur. Okay maybe I’m exaggerating, but my point is that I wanna be a kid again. I want to be able to look at the world with eternal optimism and not have to think about the leader of our nation being a complete incompetent. I want to be able to go back and correct some of my mistakes. The thing is, I can’t.

Where is all of this going? Well I ran into someone I hadn’t seen for like 6 years the other day. I was back in a place I hadn’t been in a while doing something I wasn’t sure I could still do. Vague enough for you? Well the details don’t really matter the point was this person hadn’t seen me in so long that I realized that she had no idea of the mistakes I’d made or the path my life has taken. I had a choice here. I could be the person that embellishes everything and makes it sound like the only reason they have not been nominated for sainthood was that they weren’t dead yet. Or I could tell the person a sob story making them and those around them need a handful of antidepressants.

I chose to go another way. I said a noncommittal answer, something like, “Oh this and that, no big news.” Leaving them to tell me all about their life... which I loved hearing about don’t get me wrong. But hello? It had been 6 years... did this person really think absolutely nothing had happened in my life? Maybe they thought I was living in a hole or something. Who was I kidding? The better question is why would I be embarrassed to tell someone I never see about my life? If they don’t like what they hear who cares? We all make mistakes, no one is perfect. So why do I expect that of myself and not others?

I realize that this post is rather scattered and lacking in a basic theme, but it’s been so long since I posted I think my brain is just unleashing my chaos on all you unsuspecting souls. The point is that I hide or try to.... I want to hide from the decisions and their consequences, and I want to hide my failures from others. But really who am I kidding? The only person that I am fooling is myself and the good parts tend to fade when you try to conceal the bad. For at least one moment of everyday we should all be forced to stand before ourselves and others naked.... um wait I take that back.... The next thing you know people would take that literally and show up at my place with a camera. I really don’t need a citation for indecent exposure.

Pup-date:

The puppy of doom is growing up. Why can’t we keep them small and fuzzy? On the plus side this means she is getting the idea of how the world works and what she can and cannot do. She’s even lost a few teeth. She still has her two front teeth but not the ones on each side. So really she looks like a large gerbil. So now I’m left with a dog who thinks she’s a cat, yet looks like a rodent. The other day I got sick of having to move the couch every time she tossed her toy under there (about 347 times a day) so I bought her a hippopotamus that was too large to fit under the bed and just small enough for her to still pick up (even if it does make her a bit top heavy). So I thought I had done it, I solved the problem. Ha! That’ll teach me to make an assumption that I’m smarter than a dog. So I wake up this morning to find that the toy she loved last night had a new home.... the toilet. That’ll teach me.

“Even god passes gas once in a while... so why can’t we?” -- My Dad.

Wednesday, May 12, 2004

Questions can be stupid too...

Some things just are; they’re absolute. The moon will always rise, the sun will always set, the hot water will run cold in the shower as soon as my head is good and soapy, my mother will always nag, Steel Magnolias will always make me cry, Absolutely Fabulous will always make me laugh, and I will always question everything. Why is that? Oh crap there I go again. Why can’t I stop? See, it’s a sickness really. I’ll give you a few examples. I’ll only give you a few for fear you’ll see just how far my sickness goes:

Why are infomercials on only late at night? Is the plan that people will be tired thus lowering their ability for rational thought? Do they realize that the people asleep at those times are probably the ones that can afford the 6 easy payments of $69.95 for the thingamabob that’s not only a vegetable chopper and fruit juicer, but could improve your television reception and become the newest fad collectable? I mean they have to wake up in the morning for work. So really what you’re left with that late are sleepless fools like me, and the occasional college student with no money who’s cramming for a test the next day they’re bound to fail because they just began studying an hour ago and are still on the table of contents in the textbook. Why can’t infomercials have their own channel? QVC has one, why not them? And really if fishing, car racing, and knitting can have their own channel why not everything else?

Why does the city charge you per bag for your garbage? Wouldn’t it be better if they charged by weight? Have little scales on the back of the truck and then bill you per month? Wouldn’t that convince people to recycle more? I mean glass is heavy stuff. Maybe that would stop people at apartment complexes from tossing their old couch next to the dumpster. Do they really think that thing will fit in the truck? Um... no. So then it sits there for ages becoming not only an eyesore but a home for who knows what. Maybe that’s just here, but right now by the dumpster there’s probably an old couch from the early 60’s, two end tables, and a rather odd looking fake tree. Why not give them to goodwill? You already had to haul that sucker out there... at least get yourself the tax deduction. I often wonder if those were all placed there by an angry wife who caught her husband cheating so she put all of his things out by the dumpster.

Why do people do all of their shopping at the convenience store? First of all, they really aren’t all convenient, and second they are so over priced it’s insane. They don’t have carts so these people walk about with their arms full, trying to figure out how to carry the last item with their teeth. They then pay $327 for gas, a gallon of milk, some soap, something from the frozen foods that might have been their since the turn of the century, toilet paper, and various other things. How hard would it be to go across the street to the grocery store? Not to mention that someone has to wait in line behind you with a bottle of pop while some checker needing a smoke break checks you out. It makes no sense to me. I mean I’m all for getting a few things there, but I really don’t think it’s all that sane to consider that intelligent one-stop shopping.

How can people remember an order at Starbucks that’s more complicated than deciphering lost text from some ancient city? I’ve seen people that are ordering one cup of coffee that has 39 steps. These are the same people that then cannot remember what time they were supposed to be at work so they rush out of the coffee house (only after taking that cup over and doctoring even further with various sprinkles of some substance) and then speed past you in traffic cutting you off while they yell at their stock broker on the cell phone. Of course they end up at the very same light as you only now they’re pounding on their steering wheel and honking their horn at the person in front of them. Where do they think this is going to get them? It’s a red light. Maybe we should all just pull over and let them on by because they couldn’t leave their house sooner or make their own damn coffee. Just once I want to be able to give these people a ticket. All they're doing is stressing themselves and everyone else out in order to make it to work 30 seconds faster. Why not just turn on some music and enjoy the drive?

I wonder about a lot. There’s always some random question with no answer running around my brain. I’d love to ask you the questions I wonder about, but sometimes it’s not the right time or place. Sometimes the answer isn’t something I’m ready to deal with. Sometimes I just fear your answer or I think that it’s silly for me to be questioning something in the first place. So I keep them to myself. Some things should be certain like friendship, love, trust, family, and intentions. (When I say "you" I mean all the people in my life, I don't discriminate with my neurosis.) So why is it I feel the need to question everything and perhaps put that the things important in jeopardy? I guess that is just another question for me to think about on my drive to work this morning.

“Skill is successfully walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls. Intelligence is not trying.” – Anonymous

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

Thief

I stole from you. You thought you’d won. I can see it in your eyes when I have the misfortune of looking upon your face. You first see me and the pride is sickening, but if I hold your gaze I’d swear I could see shame. Maybe it’s just my imagination, or maybe I just like to think that there is some good in everything even if it is hidden under a landslide of darkness. But you didn’t win. I’m not broken. I stole back the life you tried to smother. I no longer hide in the dark from the memory of you. Your fist holds nothing over me; I no longer cower at its memory. So when I saw you today you must’ve realized that I’m the thief and you are nothing.

“Dignity consists not in possessing honors, but in the consciousness that we deserve them.” -- Aristotle