Eyes on the wall

A friend of mine gave me a writing exercise. There's a 57-year-old man staring at the wall. Why? There's no word limit. I'll get back to you on this one. I'm very excited to write it.

I wish I was Jewish. Then I wouldn't feel stupid when I said "oy."

That's a lie. What a silly reason to embrace a religion. Still, I love Yiddish.

There's nothing good here today--just a rant. First of all, I think it's stupid to hover over a toilet (unless it's one of those really really filthy ones like a port-a-potty). It's not because I don't believe in germs, either--although I was taught to wash every part of me every day including the butt. So I don't worry too much.

What really bugs me about it is that these super-anal women who just can't press their delicate bottoms against the porcelain want to screw up the next girl's day by leaving a spatter of pee all over the damn thing. What the hell are you, a dog? Did your mother teach you that it was ok to piss all over something and then not clean it up? There's soap and water to wash up after you clean up your mess. Or you could just... you know.... sit down.

Things like that annoy me--little things that scream "your time is not valuable, and I'm too important to care about inconveniencing you." Clean up your pee, pick up your trash (I know there are custodians, but why make their jobs even harder when you could learn a lesson in NOT being a lazy ass?), and just think about the people around you. It makes life so much better when people are considerate. I figure there's either a rash of inconsideration or just a whole flock of extremely stupid people who were born all in the same generation--people who don't have the mental capacity to understand that sitting in warm urine doesn't feel nice.

This isn't directed at anyone in particular. I just really needed to rant.

Quiet

Merry Christmas.

I feel quiet. When I feel quiet, it feels like everything inside me is smaller. I'm waiting for my dates to finish baking. We all have to be up in about 5 hours. Not sure how I'm going to make it. I miss you, Uncle, but I feel sure you're somewhere peaceful and happy. I'm sorry I wasn't here to say goodbye. Tomorrow will be a nice day as always.

Love is green beans

I'm risking it all to go out into Christmas traffic for my big sister--my sanity, my Christmas spirit, and my driver's license (who knows who I'll kill). But that is love. And I know that she and anyone else in my family would do the same for me. In reality it's not a chore at all. I just found myself whining about it, slapped myself, and decided to write.

I can count on my siblings for anything and everything. They probably don't know how much they give me. Nothing is more fun than sharing a moment of mad rage with my sister about the state of the world. And nothing is more comforting than a wise one-liner from my brother when I'm feeling so frustrated or so sad that I can't even think straight. They are the greatest friends. Maybe that's why I'm not a good friend to other people. I've always had everything that I need.

People say love is shitty sometimes, but I can never bring myself to focus on what makes love hard.

Love is complex. Out of love, people have taken my side out of blind loyalty and forced me to turn my head and see the other side of a situation.... in the same night.

Love is simple. If you love someone enough, you can do right by them, and that is that.

Love is comforting. Having people, near or far, who are glad that they met you is an unrivaled blessing.

Love is painful, because goodbye is as much a part of life as hello.

Christmas is here. It's the time I think about life and love the most. I think about what I have accomplished, what I have left to do, and how many things I have to be thankful for.

So much is undone, but I can always remember this: The most generous, wise, and beautiful people I know keep loving me more and more each year, so I must be doing something right.

I love you Mom, Dad, siblings, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, my fella, friends, old family friends, pets, people here and people away. When I sit down, close my eyes, and think about the perfect definition for love, I see your faces.

Picking myself apart--stuff you might already know

The Yes Man wasn't a terribly great movie. There were no surprises, extremely fresh characters, or risks. But there was a message I could relate to. Carl--Jim Carrey's character--is a call-screening homebody who doesn't really care to do much. I don't fit the caricature exactly, but my lazy, content weekends somehow spilled over into everyday life. There are lots of things I would like to do, but for every non-school, non-work challenge that comes my way, there are at least 3 excuses not to: Money, cutting into homework time, and I'm just plain tired.

But what about the rock climbing I've wanted to do again for four years? What about karaoke nights, which I love? What about going out just for the sake of seeing other people and remembering the world outside my apartment? It's easy to go overboard with this, especially since I just stopped feeling guilty for being content--content about a lot of things. I'm ok with getting a B, I'm ok with still being a size 18 as long as I exercise and make healthy choices every day. I'm ok with being happy at home. But I'm not ok with letting everyday comfort stand in the way of experiences.

With that in mind, I've decided to find a rock climbing place before the holiday ends. If the closest one is out of town, I might have to plan to go later, but it's more than I did before. I'd also like to go to more bookstores. It's time to start filling my bookshelf with more than just required reading. I don't want to be an Emily Dickinson author--writing (or appearing to write) only for herself and close family. I want to be a writer for all people. I want to understand people and have them understand my message--not all, but more. And I can't do that if I remain in hiding.

There are interesting people out there, despite my many negative experiences. There are songs I want people to hear me sing. There are fears for me to conquer and mistakes to make. I haven't made nearly enough mistakes. Look for me on the front page the night of my first karaoke set or open mic night: "Husky, inebriated Cajun steals hearts, karaoke equipment"

I'm not a math and science girl.

Why is it that no matter where I am in my life, I'm certain I'll never leave that period? As a child, I felt I would never stop being a child. That was just fine, too. It was the same when I was a teenager, except that frustration had taken the place of contentment. Now that I'm an adult, at least in body, there isn't any apparent end to my twenties. I mean, there has to be, but it's so hard to imagine. Impatience or frustration isn't driving me to write this, because I have learned to be content with where I am. It's more of a feeling of wonder. Living in the moment still feels like a chore after years of futile planning. It feels like some incredible feat.

How do the 4th-and-so-on dimensions work? I've heard they have something to do with time. It sounds very interesting, but it's hard to comprehend. Thinking about this makes me think of that book, A Wrinkle in Time, in which Mrs. Whatsit places an ant on a tight piece of string and then loosens it, instantly bringing the ant to the other side. I don't know. I'm always on the cusp of understanding what that has to do with time, but I won't pretend to be good with those concepts here. I'm the woman with the words, and even that doesn't always turn out right.

No complaints, no impatience (usually), and no desire to slow down---just wondering.

Is everyone this horrible sometimes?

During this particular time of the month, all I want to do is eat bad food and run over jaywalkers. That's it, for five days--the steering wheel in one hand and a zebra cake in the other. I don't like it. I know why I want these two things, though. I've been trying like hell to NOT eat bad food since I started exercising regularly a couple of years ago. And ever since I started going to LSU, I hate jaywalkers.

Highland Road is a busy street for more than just students, and these kids with their faces buried in their iPods just step out into the street without looking. Good thing that ridiculously large tailpipe on my car is loud enough to alert them that they'd better step back. I've frightened many a pedestrian in my short time there.

Say cheese!

I get very ornery about digital cameras and camera phones. I'm not just fighting technology for the sake of doing so---they really bug me sometimes. Consider all the nosy employers who facebook their workers and find pictures that were thoughtlessly posted the night of a crazy party. With old cameras, you could sleep on it. Hell, you could wait a few days depending on how much you spent on developing the film. Then no one would have to see that puke-shot your friend took unless you really wanted them to.

Do you think those attention-starved people on myspace would post as many pictures of themselves in half-naked, embarrassing poses if they had to do it with an old camera? "Hello, I'd like to get these developed." Imagine that photo album: "Coin Slot Shots '08"

Parties are now flooded with people who can't go a minute without getting a group of people together and taking a picture. Then they look at the screen, shake their heads, and demand that 3 or 4 more be taken. Weeeee! Do you really need 136 pictures of the same gathering? They all end up the same anyway--3 or 4 people with a plastered smile that attempts to cover these thoughts: "Is my pimple showing? I wonder if my mom will ever make a facebook. Just take the damn picture so I can finish drinking this Miller High Life." Of course, this is all speculation based on what I've observed.

On the other hand, digital cameras can be useful for professionals, taking family photos for a Christmas card, and vacations--things where you might really need a good do-over. I would have been horrified if every one of my pictures of Parliament came back either too dark or with my thumb over the clock (Big Ben is the name of the bell).

I come off as anti-memory-preservation. But really, I'm just projecting my inability to immerse myself. Cameras don't help when I'm trying to let go of my inhibitions. Also, the late George Carlin raised an excellent point: Do we have to reminisce about something that happened a minute ago?

My newest short story

I've started moving away from the novel I want to finish one day. After so long, it's evolved into something almost completely different from my first idea. It feels good to get into something fresh. My newest short story is based on two dreams I've merged together.

The first dream is about a man who stowed away on a ship that was torn apart during a terrible storm. He floats for days, praying for help. After 3 days, he reaches an island made completely of sand. It's a giant plateau that's hundreds of feet above the sea, but the sand doesn't erode away. He grabs on to one of the thick, hairy, rootlike things that hang off the side of the island. He uses all of his remaining strength to climb. His strength starts to wane, and his hands slip. A frog's head emerges from the sand and speaks to him in a deep voice, "Climb," it says. He presses on and finally reaches the top. The roots that fall over the side of the island come from a pond with a huge lily in it.

He is completely alone. He drinks some of the water from the pond and sleeps until the morning. He notices some fruit hanging from the tree that had sheltered him at night, so he takes a few from the branches and begins to explore, feeling strangely refreshed.

The island seems to extend as he walks. He sees a thick mist in the distance. As he gets closer, he sees a city of Alabaster buildings connected by wooden bridges. People who look like sketches peek from windows and hang flowers outside their windows. He starts to cross a bridge, and feels the water below splash him. Two humpback whales are coming up for air right underneath him.

Those are a description of my two dreams put together. It's nothing much yet, but I have to write something about it. So far, I've only written 3 actual paragraphs, but it's evoking some interesting images.