3/25/16
Peebody's law
Why is it that anything you drop in the bathroom, always ends up in the most unreachable spot behind the toilet?
1/27/16
1/23/16
Blast from the past
The other thing that seems weird to me is the prevalence of 'impostor' stories - you know, like, The Return of Martin Guerre, or (more recently), Phoenix. I don't know how anyone could mistake a loved one's voice for someone else's, whether they've been disfigured, or missing for 10 years, or whatever. I mean, one of the dudes at my car repair shop could call me out of the blue in 10 years, and I'd know exactly who he was - voices are as unique as fingerprints. So as a plot point, it just doesn't hold water.
Angstious
This is my first post since 2010. Since my Dad died. And I'm typing it on a smartphone in the middle of a blizzard.
I've been thinking a lot about anxiety lately. Probably because there's been more of it than usual in my life these last few years. I think that many people look at it as if it were some deeper brand of pessimism - why do you let yourself worry about stuff like that?! Look at the statistics; the chances of [insert tragedy] are practically nil! There's no benefit in being so negative!
...But I don't really have the sense that anxiety is actually rooted in negative thinking or pessimism. It's not some bizarrely self-indulgent clinging to fear and disaster. To me, it feels more like the 'it won't happen to me' mechanism inside people gets broken. Or stunted, so it only functions some of the time, or in certain situations.
-You know that mechanism, that self-protective delusion that allows folks to go about their daily lives, secure in the knowledge that they have a future, secure in the knowledge that they'll make it to work, being able to focus on the way the Starbucks barista misspelled their name, or how long it'll take them to finish that report for their boss, instead of getting caught up in the real facts of their everyday vulnerability and mortality.
So I think for folks with anxiety, that certain security has been swept away- either by genetics, or socialization, or trauma. They realize- they are actively conscious in real time- that they are not immune. To anything. And the older they get, and the more crazy-ass shit they hear about, the less immune they feel.
Sometimes the immunity mechanism works for everything except elevators. Or bridges. Or planes. Or heights. Sometimes it's had so many holes poked in it by life that there are only shreds of it left. But it's not negativity- it's really the absence of a comfortable delusion- cause bad stuff can happen to anyone at any time.
I guess the key is in making peace with that.
I've been thinking a lot about anxiety lately. Probably because there's been more of it than usual in my life these last few years. I think that many people look at it as if it were some deeper brand of pessimism - why do you let yourself worry about stuff like that?! Look at the statistics; the chances of [insert tragedy] are practically nil! There's no benefit in being so negative!
...But I don't really have the sense that anxiety is actually rooted in negative thinking or pessimism. It's not some bizarrely self-indulgent clinging to fear and disaster. To me, it feels more like the 'it won't happen to me' mechanism inside people gets broken. Or stunted, so it only functions some of the time, or in certain situations.
-You know that mechanism, that self-protective delusion that allows folks to go about their daily lives, secure in the knowledge that they have a future, secure in the knowledge that they'll make it to work, being able to focus on the way the Starbucks barista misspelled their name, or how long it'll take them to finish that report for their boss, instead of getting caught up in the real facts of their everyday vulnerability and mortality.
So I think for folks with anxiety, that certain security has been swept away- either by genetics, or socialization, or trauma. They realize- they are actively conscious in real time- that they are not immune. To anything. And the older they get, and the more crazy-ass shit they hear about, the less immune they feel.
Sometimes the immunity mechanism works for everything except elevators. Or bridges. Or planes. Or heights. Sometimes it's had so many holes poked in it by life that there are only shreds of it left. But it's not negativity- it's really the absence of a comfortable delusion- cause bad stuff can happen to anyone at any time.
I guess the key is in making peace with that.
6/26/10
hope
When you've been banging your head against the same wall for a long time - for years - you can decide to stop banging your head, and there's a bit of relief. For a while. Your skin heals up, and you look better. But the wall is still there.
That sucks.
What I should do instead is invest in a wrecking ball.
That sucks.
What I should do instead is invest in a wrecking ball.
6/25/10
the high rates of unintended roadkill
Last weekend I was heading towards Massachusetts on I-88, which is an empty stretch of highway between Albany and Binghamton in the oh-so-beautiful state of New York. -Two relatively straight lanes in each direction, passing through farmland and rolling hills. There is so much of nothing happening on this road that folks often have the chance to read their morning newspapers while commuting to work.
Therefore, when I saw a number of dead deer on the side of the road, and passed over numerous other bloody smears left by the tragic demise of other animals, I thought - how is it that, in all this emptiness, those cars and those animals ended up occupying the same few square inches of space at the same time?! Really, I mean, what are the chances?! It seems so unlikely, and yet....
...and yet I've heard a similar story elsewhere, I think. Pregnancy. Pregnancy, which I've been told is only possible to achieve during a few short hours each month. And I've seen how hard it is - I've watched my friends, with their calendars and their thermometers and their daily testing of cervical mucus, and their months or years of disappointment before success. I've seen some of them plop down thousands of dollars to have it done for them because it just wasn't happening on its own. So how is it that there are so many unplanned babies; how do those eggs and sperm end up occupying those same few square micrometers of space at the same time, at exactly the right time?! Really, I mean, what are the chances? It seems so unlikely, and yet....
Therefore, when I saw a number of dead deer on the side of the road, and passed over numerous other bloody smears left by the tragic demise of other animals, I thought - how is it that, in all this emptiness, those cars and those animals ended up occupying the same few square inches of space at the same time?! Really, I mean, what are the chances?! It seems so unlikely, and yet....
...and yet I've heard a similar story elsewhere, I think. Pregnancy. Pregnancy, which I've been told is only possible to achieve during a few short hours each month. And I've seen how hard it is - I've watched my friends, with their calendars and their thermometers and their daily testing of cervical mucus, and their months or years of disappointment before success. I've seen some of them plop down thousands of dollars to have it done for them because it just wasn't happening on its own. So how is it that there are so many unplanned babies; how do those eggs and sperm end up occupying those same few square micrometers of space at the same time, at exactly the right time?! Really, I mean, what are the chances? It seems so unlikely, and yet....
O iPod! Wherefore art thou 'Shuffle'? Deny thy randomness and come clean!
Ok. Here's the thing:
My iPod has over 5,000 tracks on it. [And here I must say that a) I'm very very lucky to have an iPod and b) I'm very grateful to have one that can hold that much music and c) I'm very lucky to have that much music to put on it!]
...That established, I'll come to my point:
Of those 5,000+ songs, maybe 40-odd tracks are from Prokofiev's ballet of Romeo and Juliet. When I put the iPod on the 'shuffle' setting - which purportedly makes it play an absolutelytotallycompletely random selection of the songs it contains - it inevitably plays tracks from this ballet. Every time. More than once in the same hour.
But the creepy is yet to come: The tracks my iPod randomly decides to play are always a) fight scenes or b) the death of Mercutio or c) the death of Romeo and/or Juliet at the end of the ballet. No love scenes; no pas de deux, no gentle bits of Juliet playing with her doll and teasing her Nurse. Nope, just cold hard steel.
WTF?! iPod - you are either too much of a realist, or too much of a cynic... or maybe just all-around depressing. But don't try to convince me that your 'shuffle' setting is Without-Plan.
My iPod has over 5,000 tracks on it. [And here I must say that a) I'm very very lucky to have an iPod and b) I'm very grateful to have one that can hold that much music and c) I'm very lucky to have that much music to put on it!]
...That established, I'll come to my point:
Of those 5,000+ songs, maybe 40-odd tracks are from Prokofiev's ballet of Romeo and Juliet. When I put the iPod on the 'shuffle' setting - which purportedly makes it play an absolutelytotallycompletely random selection of the songs it contains - it inevitably plays tracks from this ballet. Every time. More than once in the same hour.
But the creepy is yet to come: The tracks my iPod randomly decides to play are always a) fight scenes or b) the death of Mercutio or c) the death of Romeo and/or Juliet at the end of the ballet. No love scenes; no pas de deux, no gentle bits of Juliet playing with her doll and teasing her Nurse. Nope, just cold hard steel.
WTF?! iPod - you are either too much of a realist, or too much of a cynic... or maybe just all-around depressing. But don't try to convince me that your 'shuffle' setting is Without-Plan.
3/16/10
age
It seems like this is what should happen as you get older: you become more and more aware that you know absolutely nothing, while the importance of knowing anything becomes less and less. That way you maintain a comfortable equilibrium.
2/24/10
guesstimati
"Cincinnati" is the sort of word that, when written in cursive, it's easier to just put a ton of dots over it in random places rather than trying to figure out which of the little bumps are i-s.
2/7/10
stuff II
I don't own anything that I don't use or need at least once a year... except my books - they're on more of a three-year rotation. And my two huge iron outdoor butterfly chairs, since I don't have an 'outdoor' to use them in. :-( And my wooden pendulum metronome; I just keep that cause it's hella cool.
1/18/10
stuff
If you don't own anything, then all the stuff that requires maintenance (like dishes, laundry, dusting, organizing, putting songs on your iPod) can't take up your day.
If we all went around naked and ate with our fingers, think of the time we'd save!
If we all went around naked and ate with our fingers, think of the time we'd save!
1/11/10
harmony
You know, sometimes things feel right. And sometimes they don't.
Sometimes they don't feel right and you deliberately ignore that fact, because you are so invested in them feeling... well, right. Sometimes you're hoping they'll feel wrong, and they don't. Often they're a little of both, and then you just go along making the best of it. But sometimes you don't have to think about it at all; you just know they're right, instantly, on-the-spot, and you don't bother to consider any other options.
Examples of the kinds of things in my life that have instantly felt right:
-the college I went to
-what I ordered for dinner at the restaurant last night
-friends, the first time I met them
-the apartment I live in
-moving across the country (the first time)
-certain clothing
-the wording I chose while writing something, or saying something
-adopting a stray cat
-picking up a piece of furniture out of the trash, with an eye to refurbishment
-travel plans
-the extra pinch of something I added to a dish that wasn't in the original recipe
-music
-the earrings I put on yesterday morning
-the idea of getting into bed right now and reading until I fall asleep.
Sometimes they don't feel right and you deliberately ignore that fact, because you are so invested in them feeling... well, right. Sometimes you're hoping they'll feel wrong, and they don't. Often they're a little of both, and then you just go along making the best of it. But sometimes you don't have to think about it at all; you just know they're right, instantly, on-the-spot, and you don't bother to consider any other options.
Examples of the kinds of things in my life that have instantly felt right:
-the college I went to
-what I ordered for dinner at the restaurant last night
-friends, the first time I met them
-the apartment I live in
-moving across the country (the first time)
-certain clothing
-the wording I chose while writing something, or saying something
-adopting a stray cat
-picking up a piece of furniture out of the trash, with an eye to refurbishment
-travel plans
-the extra pinch of something I added to a dish that wasn't in the original recipe
-music
-the earrings I put on yesterday morning
-the idea of getting into bed right now and reading until I fall asleep.
I'll take one of those!
Someone... or more likely, something, keeps posting spammish comments on my last post. They seem to be advertising something - but what that something is, why anyone would want it, or how anyone would get it, I was unable to determine.
I'm thinking that they have not sold very many whatever-they-ares lately.
Call it a hunch.
I'm thinking that they have not sold very many whatever-they-ares lately.
Call it a hunch.
12/26/09
well, and Love
I wasn't really thinking about this, or trying to figure it out; it just occurred to me the other day:
The theme of my life is communication.
Everything boils down to that.
Weird.
The theme of my life is communication.
Everything boils down to that.
Weird.
12/22/09
christmas
I had planned to take our recycling to the dump this morning before work, because it was my last chance to get it out of the apartment before hosting holiday folks.
I take our recycling there because my landlord doesn't provide us with a recycle bin (and if he did, people would put garbage in it anyway). The recycling center is about 10 minutes away, and would have involved a 25-minute round-trip... which (given that I was dragging my feet this morning) was time I didn't have; I would be at least 10 minutes late for work.
But it was my last chance to do it, so I gritted my teeth and lugged the heavy [loudly clanking] slippery plastic bags down the steep back staircase, gripped the whole mess painfully in one hand so I could reach the back door handle, and stepped out onto the brilliant morning sunlight.
Obscuring my view was a garbage truck, also very late on its rounds (they usually come around 6:30 am), and standing just behind the truck was a cheery man who said, "Good morning, ma'am! Is that your garbage? No? Recycling? OK!" And he whisked the bags out of my hands and within seconds they were gone; my workday was left intact, my car saved extra miles, my brain free of the stress created by rushing and being late... and I felt a sudden happy Scrooge-like awakening to the simple pleasure of the profound gratefulness one feels when being selflessly assisted by a generous fellow being, and to the wonder of happy accident, and to the joyful fullness of the season. And I sat in my car and thanked the Universe for everything I could think of that I'm thankful for.
It took awhile. I was almost late for work.
I wish everyone in the world such wonderful gifts this Christmas!
I take our recycling there because my landlord doesn't provide us with a recycle bin (and if he did, people would put garbage in it anyway). The recycling center is about 10 minutes away, and would have involved a 25-minute round-trip... which (given that I was dragging my feet this morning) was time I didn't have; I would be at least 10 minutes late for work.
But it was my last chance to do it, so I gritted my teeth and lugged the heavy [loudly clanking] slippery plastic bags down the steep back staircase, gripped the whole mess painfully in one hand so I could reach the back door handle, and stepped out onto the brilliant morning sunlight.
Obscuring my view was a garbage truck, also very late on its rounds (they usually come around 6:30 am), and standing just behind the truck was a cheery man who said, "Good morning, ma'am! Is that your garbage? No? Recycling? OK!" And he whisked the bags out of my hands and within seconds they were gone; my workday was left intact, my car saved extra miles, my brain free of the stress created by rushing and being late... and I felt a sudden happy Scrooge-like awakening to the simple pleasure of the profound gratefulness one feels when being selflessly assisted by a generous fellow being, and to the wonder of happy accident, and to the joyful fullness of the season. And I sat in my car and thanked the Universe for everything I could think of that I'm thankful for.
It took awhile. I was almost late for work.
I wish everyone in the world such wonderful gifts this Christmas!
10/16/09
unsettled
Yesterday I had a craving for Chinese food. So I stopped at the nearest restaurant after work and ordered take-out: a cup of hot & sour soup, an egg roll and 6 California rolls (our local Chinese restaurant also specializes in sushi, for reasons known only to them).
While I was standing at the counter waiting for my food, I glanced down and saw an open box on the restaurant counter, filled with cheap-looking earrings, all labeled for sale at $1.00. The top pair of the pile were rather large, with pressed, flat metal centers, and 6 dangling faux-crystal plastic beads. They were flashy, in a dollar-store kind of way. I liked them. They made me think of old-west bordellos. After looking through the rest of the bunch, I picked them up and put a dollar bill on the counter.
The young cashier looked at the bill, and looked at the earrings, and looked at me, and said, "Aren't they pretty? I was looking at them too", in a tone that contained enough regret that I immediately said, "Hey, you should totally have them! Here!" "No", she said, "I won't use them. I was thinking of buying them for my wedding, but...." "Ah, cool, you're getting married?" I asked, with (what I hoped was) an encouraging smile. "Yes... well, not really; we haven't decided on a date yet", she answered. "We can't really afford the rings." I sighed, not really knowing how to respond to that, and then said unhelpfully, "You know, nowadays tons of people get married without wedding rings." She shook her head, somewhat sadly, and then brightened up and said, "Well, my boyfriend can't wear a ring anyway, 'cause he's allergic."
And now the earrings are sitting on my kitchen table, still in their little clear plastic package. I haven't touched them or put them on yet; every time I look at them, I feel an odd mixture of things - a sort of bizarre sense that I'd be putting on someone else's wedding jewelry, and stealing a moment that isn't mine; a sadness that she isn't setting her sights higher than a pair of dollar earrings from a bin at the Chinese restaurant; an embarrassment that my thoughts are so judgmental and classist; and mostly, an overwhelming urge to send that kid everything in my bank account so that she can have the wedding she wants, and rings that won't make her fiancé’s skin break out in a rash.
While I was standing at the counter waiting for my food, I glanced down and saw an open box on the restaurant counter, filled with cheap-looking earrings, all labeled for sale at $1.00. The top pair of the pile were rather large, with pressed, flat metal centers, and 6 dangling faux-crystal plastic beads. They were flashy, in a dollar-store kind of way. I liked them. They made me think of old-west bordellos. After looking through the rest of the bunch, I picked them up and put a dollar bill on the counter.
The young cashier looked at the bill, and looked at the earrings, and looked at me, and said, "Aren't they pretty? I was looking at them too", in a tone that contained enough regret that I immediately said, "Hey, you should totally have them! Here!" "No", she said, "I won't use them. I was thinking of buying them for my wedding, but...." "Ah, cool, you're getting married?" I asked, with (what I hoped was) an encouraging smile. "Yes... well, not really; we haven't decided on a date yet", she answered. "We can't really afford the rings." I sighed, not really knowing how to respond to that, and then said unhelpfully, "You know, nowadays tons of people get married without wedding rings." She shook her head, somewhat sadly, and then brightened up and said, "Well, my boyfriend can't wear a ring anyway, 'cause he's allergic."
And now the earrings are sitting on my kitchen table, still in their little clear plastic package. I haven't touched them or put them on yet; every time I look at them, I feel an odd mixture of things - a sort of bizarre sense that I'd be putting on someone else's wedding jewelry, and stealing a moment that isn't mine; a sadness that she isn't setting her sights higher than a pair of dollar earrings from a bin at the Chinese restaurant; an embarrassment that my thoughts are so judgmental and classist; and mostly, an overwhelming urge to send that kid everything in my bank account so that she can have the wedding she wants, and rings that won't make her fiancé’s skin break out in a rash.
10/15/09
brrrrrr!
Dear Mr. Ding-A-Ling ice-cream man (whose cyclical insane-making song is now playing outside my window):
It is mid-October. It is after 7 pm.
It is dark, and there are snowflakes falling from the sky.
I admire your pluck and perseverance, but jeepers!
It is mid-October. It is after 7 pm.
It is dark, and there are snowflakes falling from the sky.
I admire your pluck and perseverance, but jeepers!
10/2/09
old school
You know that the current culture of technology has reached the dusty depths of office record-keeping when you find that "Facebook" and "MySpace" and "Twitter" are options in the computer system's drop-down list of official sources for a federal loan borrower's personal information.
What, "Transcripts", "DMV" and "Collection Agency" weren't good enough for you?!
What, "Transcripts", "DMV" and "Collection Agency" weren't good enough for you?!
9/25/09
wtf?!
Life is uncertain and unpredictable.
You know you might die today, but that it's possible you may live to be a hundred. You must be patient and wait for things to unfold in their own time, yet make sure you don't put anything important off until tomorrow.
Be wholly present! But don't forget to make that dentist appointment for next week.
Take it one step at a time! But really think about where you want to be in five years.
Don't worry, be happy! But remember to save for retirement.
Yes, we should make deliberate, strategic plans to be completely carefree and in-the-moment at all times.
-If the Great Spirit is trying to confuse the hell out of humanity, I'd say it's doing a kick-ass job.
You know you might die today, but that it's possible you may live to be a hundred. You must be patient and wait for things to unfold in their own time, yet make sure you don't put anything important off until tomorrow.
Be wholly present! But don't forget to make that dentist appointment for next week.
Take it one step at a time! But really think about where you want to be in five years.
Don't worry, be happy! But remember to save for retirement.
Yes, we should make deliberate, strategic plans to be completely carefree and in-the-moment at all times.
-If the Great Spirit is trying to confuse the hell out of humanity, I'd say it's doing a kick-ass job.
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