Friday, July 10, 2009
Words
The words I have to say are all in my heart, and I can't get them to come past my lips. I wish...I want...if only I could manage to say everything this day has held for me. But I can't. And so I won't. And that's just how it has to be.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Blog Barf
I've started this entry about eighteen times now. I type out a few words, punch the delete key furiously. Stare blankly at the screen. Repeat...seventeen more times. And it's just no blasted use. I can't blog barf tonight, and that's a shame because I usually blog barf so beautifully - such effortless projectile spewing in a rampant stream into the porcelain abyss known as Shoelaces...
So instead, I'm going to sip on this brewskie, contemplate the eighteen different things I tried to write about and wonder if there maybe isn't a more eloquent - and less graphic - way than "blog barf" to call this thing that I do.
So instead, I'm going to sip on this brewskie, contemplate the eighteen different things I tried to write about and wonder if there maybe isn't a more eloquent - and less graphic - way than "blog barf" to call this thing that I do.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
I Thought
I've thought about a lot of things today. A jumbled mass of thoughts and things and life and past.
I thought about the old hag of a lady who chewed me out on the phone at 8:04 a.m. She made me feel stupid and inadequate. I knew I was right, but sometimes I just can't verbalize things very well; it's why I write instead of give speeches. She got frustrated with me and didn't do much to hide it.
I thought about the way I persuaded Intern to go to her cousin's wedding tonight. "Persuasion" really doesn't do it justice. I more or less played my age+experience+job position cards to force her to go. I told her she would regret it later in life if she didn't make an effort. Who am I to tell someone else what they will or won't feel?
I thought about the way I deleted an entire year of photo archives off our server. One moment of stomach grumbled distraction, and I watched half a gig of photo history disappear. Poof. Gone. Vanished.
I thought about how I needed to step back into my life and shake up my way of doing things. So I emailed Jeep Man. I've known for a really long time that avoidance does not work. Why do I still do it?
I thought about my family and this painfully weird place I find myself in with them. One of the weirdest I've been in over the past two dozen years. And I found myself wondering if it would get better. R says she can see that it's getting better. I need to order the special glasses she is wearing.
And...I thought about how eventually something good can come from something bad if you'll just let yourself see it. For a long time, I thought nothing positive could ever conceivably come from some of the bad experiences I've had. Yesterday, I helped someone because of those experiences. Would I rather not have gone through some of the things I did? Yes. But since that isn't an option, I'd rather use those experiences to help someone else...even if it does dredge up old pain.
Really, today was a Monday on a Tuesday. Here's hoping tomorrow isn't a Tuesday on a Wednesday.
I thought about the old hag of a lady who chewed me out on the phone at 8:04 a.m. She made me feel stupid and inadequate. I knew I was right, but sometimes I just can't verbalize things very well; it's why I write instead of give speeches. She got frustrated with me and didn't do much to hide it.
I thought about the way I persuaded Intern to go to her cousin's wedding tonight. "Persuasion" really doesn't do it justice. I more or less played my age+experience+job position cards to force her to go. I told her she would regret it later in life if she didn't make an effort. Who am I to tell someone else what they will or won't feel?
I thought about the way I deleted an entire year of photo archives off our server. One moment of stomach grumbled distraction, and I watched half a gig of photo history disappear. Poof. Gone. Vanished.
I thought about how I needed to step back into my life and shake up my way of doing things. So I emailed Jeep Man. I've known for a really long time that avoidance does not work. Why do I still do it?
I thought about my family and this painfully weird place I find myself in with them. One of the weirdest I've been in over the past two dozen years. And I found myself wondering if it would get better. R says she can see that it's getting better. I need to order the special glasses she is wearing.
And...I thought about how eventually something good can come from something bad if you'll just let yourself see it. For a long time, I thought nothing positive could ever conceivably come from some of the bad experiences I've had. Yesterday, I helped someone because of those experiences. Would I rather not have gone through some of the things I did? Yes. But since that isn't an option, I'd rather use those experiences to help someone else...even if it does dredge up old pain.
Really, today was a Monday on a Tuesday. Here's hoping tomorrow isn't a Tuesday on a Wednesday.
Monday, July 6, 2009
The Case of the Missing Car Title
Today, July 6, 2009, I thought I was going to have to drive White Flash until that sucker quivered its last gas fume and the wheels collapsed under me. It was a daggone long hour.
6:49 p.m.
I stepped out the door for my evening run, glanced at the ever-so-humbly-low White Flash and realized I had no idea where its car title was. White Flash was titleless! Stripped of its non-existant nobility! ...naked!
I paused midstep, glaring at White Flash. "I see you every day. I hang out with you, take you out for exercise, feed you gas,yell talk with you...and you choose NOW to remind me I have no idea where your title is? Screw you, I'm going for a run. We'll deal with this later."
Every step of my run was laden with thoughts about where I could have misplaced White Flash's title. It was a long run. Not only was I, you know, partaking in unnecessary physical exertion, but thoughts of having to be White Flash's escort for the rest of its days was a little...depressing. So I ran faster and harder. Endorphins or something. Yep, sure didn't help.
7:25 p.m.
I staggered back through the door and made a beeline for my file box. (A few months ago, I revamped my filing system. After filing everything in stacks on the floor for five years, I caved and bought a filing box.) I remembered the title being white and in an official envelope looking thing.
I flipped through all my neatly labeled folders: Bank Statements, Student Loans, Tax Info, Vehicle Licensing, Retirement Accounts, Insur... Hold on, back that buggy up. I dived eagerly into the vehicle licensing folder. Only two items. Some piece of paper with green writing and some other nonsensical paper. "Golly gee whillikers..." I checked all the other folders just in case. Twice.
No dice. Fat lot of good my new filing system did.
By now, I was staring bleakly down the barrel of my vehicle future. Was I going to be driving White Flash for the next five years? ten years? ...tw..twenty years!? I started to get horrible visions of the blasted thing never dying just to stick it to me.
I raced around the house, throwing papers and sorting through all the other "filing" places I never quite got around to stowing in my new-fangled file box. Nothing. And nothing. And...still nothing. Screwed. By White Flash. Again.
I went back to my file box. I needed a white paper in an official looking envelope thingy. Round Two equaled second depressing defeat.
7:58 p.m.
I sat on Couch. Tired. Sad. Mad at White Flash and mad at myself. Where did it go? Why wasn't I more responsible? Did it go to the same place my can opener and corkscrew did - wherever that was? Oh crud...what if I'd accidentally thrown it away? I'd do something stupid like that. I once threw my car keys in the dumpster. Accidentally. And completely sober.
And, as I sat there thinking about my yawning future with White Flash, the light in my very teeny, tiny, wee little brain flickered to life. I went back to my file box, back to the Vehicle Licensing folder, back to the paper with green writing. I pulled it out. It flopped open into this long document also officially known as White Flash's car title.
You see, my very teeny, tiny wee little brain apparently forgot that I moved to Washington two years ago. It also forgot that when I finally registered White Flash in its new home, the Washington Department of Licensing took that white paper in the official looking envelope thingy and replaced it with the paper with green writing.
I looked at my car title at least four times in my frantic search. Did you read that? FOUR TIMES. *sigh* *rolling eyes* *BIG sigh*
The best thing about this, of course, is that my very teeny, tiny wee little brain finally clunked two of its cells together and found my car title. Which means White Flash isn't permanently in my future. Which means that hunk of junk with a big trunk can't stick it to me forever. Which means...FREEDOM.
I swear I'm normal. Some days.
6:49 p.m.
I stepped out the door for my evening run, glanced at the ever-so-humbly-low White Flash and realized I had no idea where its car title was. White Flash was titleless! Stripped of its non-existant nobility! ...naked!
I paused midstep, glaring at White Flash. "I see you every day. I hang out with you, take you out for exercise, feed you gas,
Every step of my run was laden with thoughts about where I could have misplaced White Flash's title. It was a long run. Not only was I, you know, partaking in unnecessary physical exertion, but thoughts of having to be White Flash's escort for the rest of its days was a little...depressing. So I ran faster and harder. Endorphins or something. Yep, sure didn't help.
7:25 p.m.
I staggered back through the door and made a beeline for my file box. (A few months ago, I revamped my filing system. After filing everything in stacks on the floor for five years, I caved and bought a filing box.) I remembered the title being white and in an official envelope looking thing.
I flipped through all my neatly labeled folders: Bank Statements, Student Loans, Tax Info, Vehicle Licensing, Retirement Accounts, Insur... Hold on, back that buggy up. I dived eagerly into the vehicle licensing folder. Only two items. Some piece of paper with green writing and some other nonsensical paper. "Golly gee whillikers..." I checked all the other folders just in case. Twice.
No dice. Fat lot of good my new filing system did.
By now, I was staring bleakly down the barrel of my vehicle future. Was I going to be driving White Flash for the next five years? ten years? ...tw..twenty years!? I started to get horrible visions of the blasted thing never dying just to stick it to me.
I raced around the house, throwing papers and sorting through all the other "filing" places I never quite got around to stowing in my new-fangled file box. Nothing. And nothing. And...still nothing. Screwed. By White Flash. Again.
I went back to my file box. I needed a white paper in an official looking envelope thingy. Round Two equaled second depressing defeat.
7:58 p.m.
I sat on Couch. Tired. Sad. Mad at White Flash and mad at myself. Where did it go? Why wasn't I more responsible? Did it go to the same place my can opener and corkscrew did - wherever that was? Oh crud...what if I'd accidentally thrown it away? I'd do something stupid like that. I once threw my car keys in the dumpster. Accidentally. And completely sober.
And, as I sat there thinking about my yawning future with White Flash, the light in my very teeny, tiny, wee little brain flickered to life. I went back to my file box, back to the Vehicle Licensing folder, back to the paper with green writing. I pulled it out. It flopped open into this long document also officially known as White Flash's car title.
You see, my very teeny, tiny wee little brain apparently forgot that I moved to Washington two years ago. It also forgot that when I finally registered White Flash in its new home, the Washington Department of Licensing took that white paper in the official looking envelope thingy and replaced it with the paper with green writing.
I looked at my car title at least four times in my frantic search. Did you read that? FOUR TIMES. *sigh* *rolling eyes* *BIG sigh*
The best thing about this, of course, is that my very teeny, tiny wee little brain finally clunked two of its cells together and found my car title. Which means White Flash isn't permanently in my future. Which means that hunk of junk with a big trunk can't stick it to me forever. Which means...FREEDOM.
I swear I'm normal. Some days.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Against a Tree
I was standing in a line when the fireworks started. For the first time in what seemed like a very long time, I was out and about with other people, sharing a car ride, standing in the food line together, telling jokes, swapping stories.
And it was nice. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't my first choice. It wasn't like that 4th of July on Okaboji, but there won't ever be another fourth like that one... This though? It was okay, you know?
So when I found myself standing in line at the restroom when the fireworks started, I began to get antsy and not only because I was doing the bathroom dance. For the first time in a long time, I had some partners in crime to share an experience with and I was missing it because I had to pee. I smiled at the irony of my life while simultaneously cursing the lady in front of me for taking so long.
I thought if I hurried, I could make it back to our little spot in the park. Maybe make a few comments about the fireworks or pretend to ooooh and ahhhh in all the right places. But as I was picking my way back across the park, I realized that the landscape had changed. Everything had gone dark and even though the sky was lit up, it cast an eery glow that made it hard to see. And everyone who'd been sitting and standing and talking? They were all flat on their backs. It's the first time in my life I've been taller than all the hundreds of people surrounding me.
When I realized I wasn't going to find my way back to where I'd been, I found a tree, leaned up against it and shoved my hands in my pockets. And there I stood, staring up at the sky, watching the fireworks and thinking. Thinking about me and you and Joe Guy and Jane Girl. Thinking about my country and about history and about life and about the present, the past and the future.
Mostly though, I just stared up at the sky, smiled a little contemplative smile and thought about how I ended up alone against a tree...I think they were the best fireworks I've ever seen.
And it was nice. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't my first choice. It wasn't like that 4th of July on Okaboji, but there won't ever be another fourth like that one... This though? It was okay, you know?
So when I found myself standing in line at the restroom when the fireworks started, I began to get antsy and not only because I was doing the bathroom dance. For the first time in a long time, I had some partners in crime to share an experience with and I was missing it because I had to pee. I smiled at the irony of my life while simultaneously cursing the lady in front of me for taking so long.
I thought if I hurried, I could make it back to our little spot in the park. Maybe make a few comments about the fireworks or pretend to ooooh and ahhhh in all the right places. But as I was picking my way back across the park, I realized that the landscape had changed. Everything had gone dark and even though the sky was lit up, it cast an eery glow that made it hard to see. And everyone who'd been sitting and standing and talking? They were all flat on their backs. It's the first time in my life I've been taller than all the hundreds of people surrounding me.
When I realized I wasn't going to find my way back to where I'd been, I found a tree, leaned up against it and shoved my hands in my pockets. And there I stood, staring up at the sky, watching the fireworks and thinking. Thinking about me and you and Joe Guy and Jane Girl. Thinking about my country and about history and about life and about the present, the past and the future.
Mostly though, I just stared up at the sky, smiled a little contemplative smile and thought about how I ended up alone against a tree...I think they were the best fireworks I've ever seen.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Answers
I went looking for answers today. It's been a week. One of those weeks. The kind you don't talk about much to other folks. The kind that make you want answers. And so I went looking for some today. In an effort to have my life make some sort of sense, I went looking.
And this is what I decided as I was traipsing around the mountain. This life we're leading...my life that I'm leading is a series of cattle trails. You ever been on a cattle trail? They're twisty and this way and that and narrow. They've got sticks lying across them and sometimes large trees and low-hanging branches. Just like life.
The thing about cattle trails is that there's a lot of them. When you step off the main trail, there's a lot of trails to choose from. They all look the same at the beginning, full of promise, pointing towards the places you think you should be trying to get to. But cattle trails can always be counted on for two things: 1) They're always going to take you somewhere. Maybe not where you had in mind, but they're going to take you some place and that's better than no place. 2) They peter out. They end. They fizzle into nothingness and leave you in a place you don't know how to get out of.
But that's ok. The beauty of cattle trails is that there is always another one when the first one disappears. You just have to look for it.
I'm not sure what that has to do with answers. I guess I didn't find any answers when I was out there wandering the mountain, and so I decided to talk about cattle trails instead. But here's the thing about answers: I'm not sure there really is such a thing. Not the type of answers I was looking for.
"Answer" implies it's black and white - and life is grey. It'd be nice to have answers I think, to lay down a question and know there is an answer out there for it. But I just don't think there are answers, not the be-all-end-all type of answers I think I'm probably looking for.
There are the little answers, of course. The ones that don't mean too much. But the big ones, the answers I think we're all looking for? Those answers are just a big target and it's always moving, drifting off into the distance, hidden by fog, disappearing from view. And I think that's okay. I think it's good we don't have all the answers. It keeps us real. It keeps us human. It keeps us interesting...and it keeps us alive in a way we could never be if we had all the answers.
And this is what I decided as I was traipsing around the mountain. This life we're leading...my life that I'm leading is a series of cattle trails. You ever been on a cattle trail? They're twisty and this way and that and narrow. They've got sticks lying across them and sometimes large trees and low-hanging branches. Just like life.
The thing about cattle trails is that there's a lot of them. When you step off the main trail, there's a lot of trails to choose from. They all look the same at the beginning, full of promise, pointing towards the places you think you should be trying to get to. But cattle trails can always be counted on for two things: 1) They're always going to take you somewhere. Maybe not where you had in mind, but they're going to take you some place and that's better than no place. 2) They peter out. They end. They fizzle into nothingness and leave you in a place you don't know how to get out of.
But that's ok. The beauty of cattle trails is that there is always another one when the first one disappears. You just have to look for it.
I'm not sure what that has to do with answers. I guess I didn't find any answers when I was out there wandering the mountain, and so I decided to talk about cattle trails instead. But here's the thing about answers: I'm not sure there really is such a thing. Not the type of answers I was looking for.
"Answer" implies it's black and white - and life is grey. It'd be nice to have answers I think, to lay down a question and know there is an answer out there for it. But I just don't think there are answers, not the be-all-end-all type of answers I think I'm probably looking for.
There are the little answers, of course. The ones that don't mean too much. But the big ones, the answers I think we're all looking for? Those answers are just a big target and it's always moving, drifting off into the distance, hidden by fog, disappearing from view. And I think that's okay. I think it's good we don't have all the answers. It keeps us real. It keeps us human. It keeps us interesting...and it keeps us alive in a way we could never be if we had all the answers.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
In A Big Way
I'm sitting here tonight. I'm sitting. I've been sitting here. And I don't know what to say. I don't know how to say what I want to say. I don't even know if I should say what I want to say if I knew how to say it.
****several hours later****
And this isn't what I didn't know how to say, but you know what I really want? Deep down in the middle parts of my heart that I rarely ever bring out for other people to inspect? And...this is going to sound unlike me. It's going to sound completely foreign to the type of me you probably think me to be...but I want someone to care about me. I want someone to care about me in a really big wide open way. So big that they want to take care of me. So big that they'd call me just to say they care. So big that they'd drive two hours to pick me up out of another one of my messes. So big they'd punch the guy who tried to hurt me in the left eye.
Maybe even more than that though, I want to be able to let someone else care about me in that big of a way. I'm not sure I can. I'm not sure I can let someone that close to me. And while we're in the deep down middle parts of my heart...that scares the ever living crap out of me.
****several hours later****
And this isn't what I didn't know how to say, but you know what I really want? Deep down in the middle parts of my heart that I rarely ever bring out for other people to inspect? And...this is going to sound unlike me. It's going to sound completely foreign to the type of me you probably think me to be...but I want someone to care about me. I want someone to care about me in a really big wide open way. So big that they want to take care of me. So big that they'd call me just to say they care. So big that they'd drive two hours to pick me up out of another one of my messes. So big they'd punch the guy who tried to hurt me in the left eye.
Maybe even more than that though, I want to be able to let someone else care about me in that big of a way. I'm not sure I can. I'm not sure I can let someone that close to me. And while we're in the deep down middle parts of my heart...that scares the ever living crap out of me.
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