“Life Will Find A Way” …maybe

Dear Diary,

Currently I’m rereading Jurassic Park for the 8^th or 9^th time… I know it’s a bit excessive but I truly love the book and find something new with every read.  During my last read I came across a passage that stopped me in my tracks.  And no, it wasn’t the part when Nedry feels his own intestines after getting slashed open by a Dilophosaurus.  This time it was something Malcolm said while on one of his diatribes about chaos theory.  He was talking about fractals, which states “things look almost identical at different scales.”  This didn’t mean much to me until he started using the idea to examine our lives.

“A day is like a while life.  You start out doing one thing, but end up doing something else, plan to run an errand, but never get there…. And at the end of your life, your whole existence has that same haphazard quality, too.  Your whole life has the same shape as a single day.”

This idea really got me thinking and examining what a single day looks like in my life.  My days are usually pretty well planned and turn out how I expected.  But when looking at my life, so far things are not at all what I expected.  I can’t quite figure out where I am in my life/day and I don’t think I will be able to until the sun has set on my last day.

While I haven’t quite figured out how my entire life will look I have been able to take a step back and examine a few other patterns in my life.

I like to move around.  I’ve always considered myself someone who likes to nest, but at the same time the thought of staying somewhere for 4+ years has always made me uneasy.  As I think back to my stints in different cities, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York, there is a definite pattern that emerges.  It starts out with me loving the city, but a little lonely.  Then I get a job, create an amazing group of friends, and start to build a real life.  Then things get hard and I grow restless.  Then one day, while looking in the mirror, I get a zany idea that I should pick up and move.  I push the idea back but it doesn’t leave, and eventually materializes.  Then I move.

This has happened 3 times.  I’m just now finishing my first year of living in Seattle.  I’m at the stage where my life is beginning to form.  I have a few close friends and a job that I love and I really want to build a life here for more that just a few years.  It scares me to think of picking up and moving somewhere else in 3 or 4 years.  Yet my gut is telling me to hurry up and get Nationally Certified so that I can teach anywhere, just in case the wanderlust returns.

I truly don’t want to build a new life again, but I feel it is inevitable… or is it.

This is where Malcolm’s coveted chaos theory comes into play.

“Life is actually a series of encounter in which one event may change those that follow in a wholly unpredictable, even devastating way.”

While my life does seem to be following a distinct pattern, Malcolm says that something unpredictable will happen and obliterate the pattern.  Perhaps my chaotic event will be something that forces me to settle down and make me stay for a decade or two.  Or perhaps the big chaotic event will be that I simply never look in the mirror and get the zany idea to move.

Then again, should I really be examining my life based on theories put forward in pop-fiction novel?

Hugs and Kisses Till Next Time!!!

Or You’ll Be Leavin’ With a Fat Lip

Dear Diary,

Recently my feeling were hurt by a boy… no big deal… but I took the opportunity to listen to some angry music.  To be honest I haven’t been directly smote by a boy for some time.  The last time it took years for me to get the hint (I’m a little slow on the uptake).  This combined with a rebirth of my Chuck Taylors from the back of my closet really riled up some teenage angst inside of me.

Needless to say, I suddenly had the urge to listen to “angry” music.  So I searched my extensive (apparently not extensive enough) music collection for something that would personify my mood, and couldn’t find anything!  Sure I had a great collection of emo jams… if I felt like letting Rivers Cuomo tell me how sad I was or wanted a little Pet Sounds I was set.  But that wasn’t how I was feeling, I wanted to murder something with an air guitar… or even break stuff.  That’s when it hit me and I immediately downloaded Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff.  I listened to it for the first time on the car ride home and was surprised that I knew ALL the words… I mean ALL the words.

When I first downloaded the song I didn’t even remember the tune… I just knew that I really wanted to break something.  But apparently it all got stuck up there, waiting in the wings for me to get pissed and bust out from my brain!

I’m not too sure why it hit such a cord with me, but it did.  Usually I’m a Death Cab or Bob Dylan girl, but there is something about Limp Bizkit’s raunchy violence that this little pink and blond haired girl needed.  I no longer wanted to break stuff, but I did want to listen to the song again and again.  Even now, days later, I still need a dose of Break Stuff on the way to school to get me through the day.

I now wonder if this is what it is like to be a teenage boy.  Suddenly being struck by the urge to break something.  Perhaps that’s where violent video games come in.  Unfortunately the only video game I have is Paper Boy on the original Nintendo so I can’t try that theory out.  Striking a bush down with a paper is not quite gonna do it.  That’s probably for the best, most newfangled controllers are too complicated and I’m not coordinated enough to work them…

I’m not too sure what the point of this entry is… I guess I just want to thank Limp Bizkit for being there for me in my time of need.  I now know that if I have a rough day and whiskey can’t help me out I always have Limp Bizkit waiting to step in and bust out a motha-fuckin’-chainsaw… WHAT?!!

Hugs and kisses till next time!!!

       …no contest.

Is Happiness In The Pursuit?

Dear Diary,

I heard a story on the news a few weeks ago about how the United States was thinking about adding a Happiness Index to the monthly reports to gauge how well/not well the country is doing.  My first reaction was that this is ridiculous and I must blog about it!  Then I realized that the reasons it is ridiculous are a little too obvious, and when you examine the metrics that the index would be using the idea wasn’t all too crazy, but it actually made sense.  After all employment, income, traffic, and marriage status does determine a degree of people’s happiness.

But is that all happiness is?

What really determines my happiness?  Currently I love my job, I live in a city I love, I watch Netflix streaming when ever I want, and I will be an aunt next month.  Over all I am quite happy.  However there are certain things in my life looming over my head that constantly makes me unhappy.  (Watch out, shit’s about to get real)  The biggest of this is my singleness.

The truth is my current dating status has a lot to do with my happiness, and I think this is true for many singles.  As a single lady I am taught by society to be happy with being alone, and for the most part I am.  But when there is a boy in the picture my attitude changes dramatically.  I am nicer to my students at school, traffic doesn’t bother me, everything is 12 times funnier, and I truly do feel as though I am looking through the world through rose-colored glasses.

I’ve never been in love; my longest relationship lasted only 6 months, so I know these feelings can fade fast.  But if you are lucky enough to spend your life with a person you love and continue to love them, I imagine over time you adjust to the view through your tinted glasses of the world and it no longer looks so rosy.

With this in mind I am now forced to think about moments in life when I am my happiness.  Getting my dream job, laughing at something stupid so hard that I begin to cry, and stepping off a plane to some place new and foreign.  Then I realized that all these moments are fleeting.  The job soon becomes stressful, the joke looses its humor, and I eventually long for my own bed.  What once made me happy no longer does so.

After my dreams are realized I then begin setting my sights on something else.  A promotion, a higher salary, or a new trip across the globe.  It are these hopes and dreams that keep me going from day to day.  Perhaps that is what happiness really is… the optimism to gain something greater than what we have.

I think our founding fathers had it right.  I guess the pursuit of happiness is what defines happiness.  If this is the case, then as a single lady I guess I’m happier than the average married person.  I still have the hope and dream of bagging the “perfect man”.  “What makes him perfect?” you might ask.  I think the answer might be, “the fact that I don’t know.”

In my opinion the US should throw out the happiness index and replace it with an optimism index.  What matters more, what we have or what we think we can have?

Hugs and kissed till next time!!

Marcia, Marcia, Marcia!!!

Dear Diary,

I know that it has been about a year and a half since my last post and I was so ashamed that I almost decided never to write again.  I’d like my excuse to be that I’ve been really busy.  For the past few years I went through grad school and a first year of teaching.  But the truth is I just didn’t have anything I felt passionate enough to write about.

Then this morning, while listening to NPR, I heard a story that shook me to my core:

Hasbro is changing Monopoly, and replacing the Iron with a fucking Cat! 

According to Good Morning America the whole thing is just a marketing scheme.  Hasbro put up a on their Facebook page a survey where people could vote for their favorite piece.  Apparently the Iron lost, and will no longer be passing Go or collecting $200.

The piece that got the most votes was the Scotty Dog (no fucking surprise there).  I hate to admit it, but as a little girl that was my favorite piece.  But as I got older I came to appreciate the obscurity of the Iron.  I used to alternate between the Iron and the Shoe.  Then one day I realized the genius of the Iron: it has a handle making it the easiest piece to pick up and move.  How have more people not noticed this?!  Perhaps they are all “sliders”, people who slide their piece along the board.  Personally I’m a tapper.  I love the “tap-tap” sound the metal makes as it hits the board while I count up to my new space.

This disgrace is the same as everyone getting together and voting off a member of the Brady Bunch and replacing him/her with Davy Jones.  We all know that Jan would lose, but then someone would become the new hated character.  (It would be Cindy, that lisp has got to go).  My question is:  which piece is going to become the next Iron?  Then what will they replace it with, a Boo dog?

Really I guess I’m just peeved because everyone knows you don’t mess with the classics.  It’s like the 1998 remake of Psycho.  It added nothing to the film world (using the same script just different cast) and made everyone appreciate the original more.  I mean, how many people after watching the remake rushed out and rented the original?  I did, and then I fell in love with it.

Perhaps that’s what Hasbro was after.  They just wanted to stir up the stagnant board game world.  After all they do have me thinking about Monopoly more and it got me to get back into writing after an 18-month hiatus.  I’d like to see the numbers on how many people rushed out today to buy Monopoly, one not tainted with the Cat.  Now perhaps people will have to own 2 sets, an Iron set and a Cat set… doubling their profit.  I guess their stunt was not a bad idea after all…

 

Hugs and kisses till next time!

Eek!

Dear Diary,

As I may have told you before, I am a perpetually single girl.  There are short stints when I have a man by my side, but for the most part I find myself rarely needing a man. I am a very self sufficient woman.  I own a toolbox,  have friends to keep me company, and can buy myself shiny things if I want them…

…but tonight I needed a man.

My current residence is in a one bedroom basement apartment in Seattle.  The other night (total Psycho moment) I was taking a shower and I had that horrible feeling of someone watching me.  I slowly raised my eyes to the upper corner of there shower, and sure enough peeking through the vent was a large nasty-ass spider.  We locked eyes for a second before I shrunk into the opposite corner of the shower where I stood frozen for a good solid minute to I contemplated my next move.

You see, I have always been terrified of spider because I believe them to be uncomfortably intelligent.  They have to be to weave those beautiful intricate webs, I can barely knit scarf.  Growing up when I would find a spider in my house it had to be killed right away.  They say it is more scared of me than I am of it, but I don’t believe it!  I think they were trying to take over my house, which is a reasonable thought.  Have you ever seen a spider egg hatch?  Millions of babies burst out!  A dozen spiders could lay eggs and hatch enough spiders to take over the entire house!  So the every spiders must die.  My only method of killing is to yell “DADDY!” and the next thing I knew it would be dead.

Somehow as I stared up the spider above my shower I didn’t think shouting “DADDY!” would work.  So instead I hurried up and finished my shower and got the hell out of the shower.  As I dried off I kept one eye on the spider, and he was moving, quite quickly down the shower and then back up again.  So I shut off the light and shut the door.

As I sat in bed reading my eyes were drawn to the crack under the bathroom door.  After 10 minutes of attempting to read I knew that if I couldn’t get through a paragraph of my book I would not be able to sleep until the spider was in its tissuie grave.  So I grabbed a sandal and went to tackle the spider.

I turned on the light and he hadn’t moved.  The trouble was he was too high and the tub was too narrow to stand on.  So I grabbed a small plastic bottle and began chucking it at the spider.  Being the uncoordinated girl that I am, I only made him move over a bit… I knew I needed another technique.  So I decided to hoist myself up on the tub hold on to the sink with one hand and a sandal in the other and I wacked that spider good.  He fell into the tub where I proceeded to take his precious life away from him.

Now I know that may seems a little anti-climatic, but this was a big deal for me.  For the first time in my life I was able to do something myself that I had previously relied on a man for.  You would think I would feel like a powerful and independent woman.  But at that moment as I scooped up the spider with a tissue I wanted a man more than ever.  I HATED having to kill that thing myself, my heart was racing and my knees were weak.

Then again, I guess being independent isn’t easy, otherwise everyone would be alone.  If the only reason I “need” a man is to kill my spiders, I guess I’m doing okay.

Hugs and kisses till next time!

Putting Off Till Tomorrow

Dear Diary,

As you may or may not know, I am a procrastinator.  Personally I find this surprising because, deep down at my core, I am a major planner.  I like to plan out every detail of an event before it occurs.  If I’m driving somewhere I’ve never been before I plan out the exact route and an alternate route just in case Google Maps is behind the times.

So how can a planner, like myself, be a procrastinator?  The answer is, I plan my procrastinating.  I intentionally put off for tomorrow what I can do today.  Take for example, right now.  I am currently procrastinating while writing a blog about procrastinating.  I have a school project to complete, it’s almost done, but I can’t bring myself to finish it because I still have the rest of the night to work on it.  It’s too early for me to be done with it.

Even though I understood how I procrastinate I was puzzled as to why I do it, then it hit me.  By putting off my tasks I am avoiding my biggest fear: BOREDOM.  I can’t possibly be bored if I have something else I should be doing.  Anytime I think to myself, “I’m bored” I hear my mother’s voice in my head, “Only boring people are bored.”   Even though, logically,  I know boredom does not mean I’m boring, it just means I’m feeling too lazy to stir up some trouble, it still frightens me.

I may be an expert procrastinator, but I still tend to find myself in a pickle from time to time.  I flub up somehow and am left scrambling at the last-minute.  I do this often enough that I am even dreaming about it.  The other night I had a dream I was throwing a party for my friends because aliens were going to come and visit me.  I had grand plans for these aliens and I thought I was doing fine on time so I went and goofed off with my buddies.  The next I knew my cooking wasn’t done and I ran out of time so I couldn’t curl my hair for the aliens.

I believe that people can change… but only if they really want to change.  Apparently I don’t want to change because I’m sitting here writing this blog.  Then again perhaps procrastinating is my way to keep my life exciting.  After all, every great action movie has a ticking clock.

Hugs and kisses till next time!

Dragons and Driving

Dear Diary,

I was on my way home today I was stuck at a red light.  It was a long red light so I did what most people do and read the bumper stickers of the car in front of me.  This person had one large sticker that went across the trunk of the car.  It read:

“Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons to them you are a crunchy treat to eat with ketchup.”

I had to read it at least twice because the first time I didn’t fully understand it.  Three questions immediately came into my head: “Dragons don’t exist, so why would someone feel the need to advise others not to meddle in their affairs?”,  “Even if dragons did exist what affairs do they have that humans would meddle in?”, and “Would dragons even like ketchup?”

Another thing that puzzled me about the bumper sticker was that the driver felt that they needed to display this “dragon tidbit” with the rest of the word.  This got me thinking about other bumper stickers I have seen.  Why do people feel the need to display a picture of Calvin pissing on the Chevy logo?  Apparently they really hate Chevy, but why do they need to convey that information with the rest of the world?

When I was in high school I felt the need to display my love of punk rock* bands to the world by putting their stickers on my car.  But I did that because part of being punk rock* is incorporating it into every aspect of your life, car included.  I don’t really think ‘dragon loving” and “Chevy hating” are that way… how often do you see someone with “Chevy hating” shoes on or a “dragon loving” hair style.

I feel there are more constructive stickers people could put on their car, such as a large picture of themselves.  I strongly believe this would cut down on road rage.  When I drive I yell a lot to myself.  Often if someone is driving slow I will yell at them (with my windows rolled up so they can’t hear), but I often find that when I pass them and realize it is a grandma driving I immediately forgive them and my blood pressure decreases.  I strongly believe drivers would get less mad at me because when they saw my picture and realized I was a blond they would approach me with caution and not be surprised when I cut them off.

Then again, this idea could get a little dangerous, after all what if they used drivers licenses pictures.  Those pictures might be worse to look at than Calvin’s obscene urinating.

Hugs and kisses till next time!

*the term “punk rock” is used loosely.  At the age of 16 Blink 182 and Good Charlotte were considered “punk rock” to me.

The Looming 28

Dear Diary,

This week I will be turning 28 and I’m a little intimidated by 28.  It’s not that I’m getting closer to 30 (that was last year’s issue) but the intimidation is because 28 has to be a good year because 28 is my lucky number.

I can’t exactly explain why I chose 28 as my lucky number, I believe lucky numbers choose you.  I’ve known that 28 was it for me since the 7^th grade.  You see the 7^th grade was when I had my first major crush, Joey Cora of the Seattle Mariners, #28.  Not only did I know immediately that Joey Cora and I were to be married but that from here on out 28 would be my lucky number.

To tell you the truth I have no evidence that 28 is really my lucky number because I’m not a lucky person.  That doesn’t mean I am unlucky, I am just void of luck.  But I’ve always known it deep down that 28 meant something to me and would be meaningful number in my life.

So now, here I am on the precipice of turning 28 and filled with fear.  What if 28 is a year like any other year, or even worse, what if 28 is just like 27?  Ever since the 7^th grade I’ve felt that something would happen to me when I turned 28, I would have it all figured out and might finally become an adult.  Right now at 27 I am far from that goal, I live with my parents, have no job, and am spending my days glued to my computer.  I feel as though I will never be an adult and never have it all figured out.

Then again do I really want to have it all figured out?  Does anyone really have it figured out?  Also if I figure it all out then life ceases to become interesting.  So maybe 28 can be a magical year by allowing some mystery to remain in my life.  Maybe the most amazing thing 28 can do for me is to be just like all the other years.

Hugs and kisses till next time!

Soggy Relationship Blues

Dear Diary,

Have you ever dated someone and broken up with them and years later when reflecting on that relationship wondered why you broke up with them in the first place?  Then one day, because you’re feeling a little lonely give that person a call and they pick up.  You end up hanging out with them and think you may have been crazy for breaking up with them in the first place.  That’s when  they do something awful and you are reminded you made the right choice the first time.  Has that ever happened to you?

Personally this has never happened to me with an actual person, but this is how I am feeling in my current relationship with Seattle.  We’ve been hanging out (I say “hanging out” because we’re not very serious, I’m actually living in a suburb of Seattle) for a few months now.  At first everything was wonderful, Seattle was beautiful and sunny and green.  I was able to enjoy the city the same way I enjoyed New York, with Sunday Fundays, walks in the park, and exploring dive bars.

Lately though, it hasn’t been the same.  It’s as if Seattle has grow too comfortable with me and stopped courting me.  Now he is constantly grumpy and angry and as a result I have grown constantly grumpy and angry.  For almost four weeks now it has done nothing by rain and it’s the second week of June.  This is a little excessive even for Seattle standards!  I did not sign up for this when I moved here.  Yes, it does rain in Seattle, but the constant rain is just a myth we tell people to keep the population down.

Since the weather has been so cold for so long I’ve lost track of the time of year.  Several times I would be getting ready in the morning, putting on my cozy sweater and socks, and think to myself, “Oh yay, Christmas is almost here!  I can’t wait for Rudolf!”  Then it would occur to me that it is June and I still have 6 months until I can break out the mistletoe.

I understand that we all go through tough times of depression but I don’t know how much longer I can deal with Seattle’s mood swings.  Once or twice we would have a beautiful afternoon and I would think, “Oh I guess spring has arrived.”  Then a few hours later it would be pouring rain…

I now catch myself day dreaming of wearing sundresses and perched on a hill in Central Park  wondering if I made the right choice in breaking up with New York.  I long for its hot sticky days and warm nights, but if I had that would I be happy?  Perhaps I would find myself longing for the soggy side of the fence.

Hugs and Kisses Till Next Time!

Dancing: The Vaccine For War

Dear Diary,

I was on the subway the other day and accompanying me in my car was an angry crazy man.  Not an unusual sight but annoying none the less.  This particular crazy was very angry and yelling at all the immigrants on the train, scorning them because they can’t have passports…

It wasn’t what this man was saying that upset me (a crazy’s opinion can never be taken seriously) but it was his tone.  He was so angry that he was sending negative vibes all though the train.  Then a solution hit me!  Perhaps this man would not be so angry if there was a dance party on the train.  Wouldn’t it be ideal if in every car all the time there was music playing and people dancing along.  I am not suggesting that subway cars be turned into a club with disco balls and flashing lights, but a mellow dance party where people can shake their groove thang on their way to Union Square or Queens.  It would play a wide variety of music and people could either bop along in their seats or shake it in the middle of the car.  If MTA wants to increase ridership this is the way to do it.

As this idea began to form in my mind I shared it with many of my friends and almost none of them agreed with me.  They decided this would not be possible because not everyone enjoys dancing and there would be too many disagreements over the music.

This started me thinking: the world would be much better if everyone loved dancing as much as I do.  When I dance my problems melt away and all that matters is shaking my booty.  Unfortunately we live in a world where much of the population (mostly white males) feel self-conscious while dancing and as a result shy away from it.

This might be because historically, back in the 17th century,  “white” dancing was rigid, elaborate, and uniform.  Make one false move and you would throw off the entire group, not fun for anyone.  Instead, if everyone cut loose and danced how they felt like dancing the atmosphere would be much more relaxed with a lot less tension.  If this was the case then a dance party would have the ability to solve any major world problem.

Example:  The Cuban Missile Crisis.  Instead of playing chicken with nuclear missiles the US and USSR should have danced it out to a little Motown.  Everyone would have been in a more chipper mood and not in the mood to kills thousands of people.  And let’s be honest, the Russians would benefit from a good dance party; it would warm them up!

Perhaps the next time I’m on the subway I’ll put my theory to work.  When I see conflict occurring I’ll jump up and start to dance.  Though… I’m not too sure if everyone else would join in considering I would be the only one who could hear my music from my ipod.  Perhaps my dancing would end up making everyone around me uncomfortable, the opposite reaction I was going for.

Hugs and kisses till next time!