You're all gonna kill me. Brace yourself for a big chunk of rants on many subjects. A few of us have been taking part in a writing project where we write about a different topic every day for a month, taking turns choosing the topic. I've been trying to keep up, but admittedly, i've slacked here and there. However, it's left me no time to really post any blogs. But here are some of the rants, starting with "drinking", of course:
Drinking
If we’re all actually stuck in an aquarium holding our breath, doing our own dance, speaking weird mumbled sounds to each other that are not really audible, then drinking is racing our friends to the surface for a well needed breath of relief to share with one another, in between wheezes. We get to hear each other a lot better without a lot of hassle, and we can speak more comfortably. I love to drink. Just like walking, seeing, hearing and so on, some people are just not able to do it, and I thank God that I can. I usually thank Him on my days off work, most holidays, special occasions, pleasant surprises as well as after most break-ups, unpleasant surprises, and all around bad moods. Sometimes there’s no reason at all, it just sounds like a good idea. When I saw the movie Titanic (you know you saw it too…and cried when Jack died, don’t lie) I was surprised that nobody went to loot the bar on the ship and get tanked. Not even the band! What a prime opportunity to drink. It makes me sad that it was missed. I certainly wouldn’t have found myself in Arctic waters sober. @And there’s no way I’d let my friends die out soberly freezing on the ocean surface in isolated fear frenzies. Instead, I’d get everybody together near the stern. We’d hang out on the bobbing ship with all the looted liquor, get really shit-faced, and then together make our way back to that murky sea below.
Money
If I had to create my own mythological universe, Money would be one of my gods. I’ve been at his mercy since my birth. Not many decisions in my life have been made excluding money, and even then, there was conscious spite and thrill in sidestepping it. Money has been the all seeing all knowing madman to ram fear into the ass of man in a way that only a god hell bent on controlling the universe could. Money gets jealous easily. You must play by his rules. If life’s passions get in the way, money will put up a pretty nasty fight. Money has gained momentum over time. With no real resources to start with, he’s taken bits and pieces of older, more natural ruling gods to mutilate into his own kingdom. Money’s prophets are easily recognizable, they could be with no one else. Money tries to deny that it actually created the Hell that people live in. He despises Hell, and chooses not to stay there very long when he has to. And I can’t live without money in my current life. Even if I choose not to handle money firsthand, somebody else will have to do it for me. Which means that I will be not only be a bitch to money, but to one of his contractors as well. Even though money brings me mostly fear, I feel much safer when it’s in my life. Throughout most of my work, it’s usually on my mind. When I’m careless with it, I usually feel a strong guilt, and feel a need to gain it back, even though it often lets me down.
Happiness
What can I say about happiness that the Dalai Lama hasn’t already? Writing about happiness actually leaves me feeling empty. Many things make me feel happy, but simplifying it does not. I want to be happy for myself and others, but when I feel extremely happy, I worry that I’m stuck in a cloud and have no awareness of or compassion for other’s misery. I think this was best illustrated in the South Park movie when Big Gay Al sings, “I’m sorry, Mr. Cripple! But I can’t feel too sorry for you now. Because I’m feeling so insanely super! Not even the fact that you can’t walk can bring me down!” However, that part of the song admittedly made me feel happy in a warped sense, because it rang true to what I was thinking, but was unable to express in such a way. It made me happy, because I could appreciate what they were saying, and felt relieved that I was able to understand that feeling a bit more. And I think that learning about and being able to appreciate what is being expressed by others is a key source of happiness for me. It soothes me to know that we’re not all completely alien from one another. The more I take in and collect, the easier and more content things become for me. And that goes the other way as well. When I’m able to express more, I get a stronger reception from others. And then I don’t feel as lost.
Shoes
I used to work with a guy who only wore shoes in the winter. When the first frost would hit, he’d wear shoes with no socks. When the first snow would come, he’d start wearing socks. He’d wear shoes at work and when he had to, but on his daily treks around, he was usually barefoot. When I asked him about this, he said he preferred the feel of the ground on his feet, and felt like shoes just got in the way. Of course this became a main source of gossip and criticism among my coworkers. And since we live in the age of routine pedicures, reflexology, foot massaging, most people freaked out at the possible threats to this poor mans feet. Could he get built up calluses? What if he steps on broken glass? Wouldn’t the pavement burn his feet in summer? Do his feet get filthy?
As a woman, I’ve been forever torn about whether or not I should wear high heels. I love the shape of them. When I was a kid, whenever my mom took me shoe shopping, I always tried to find high heeled shoes in the children’s department, but was of course out of luck. At home, I always raided my mom’s closest to play dress up, and would go to the high heels first. I couldn’t wait for my feet to get big so I could wear them. Now that I’m older, I love the sexy form of them. I used to worry that I was sacrificing my own wellness for vanity, and that I should be wearing some kind of orthopedic constructs. But But I just love the spikey profound shape of them.
About 5 years ago, an old friend of mine got a fixation on platform boots. She wore them everywhere. Since her style was goth/industrial, these boots fit the style well. I never saw her out of them. They gave her lanky frame a more commanding vibe, and definitely made her presence known. One weekend she decided to have a house party. As the party carried on, people started kicking back and falling asleep all around the house. At this point I was talking to some friends in the kitchen when I saw this girl walk in from the corner of my eye. I was stunned to see that my friend had shrunk drastically. I had always thought of her being taller then me, but that night she had taken her shoes off and completely screwed with my perspective. I felt like I was the one who’d changed and was trying to adjust to a new body.
Crying
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized that I’ve become more of a selfish crier. When I was younger I was a much more compassionate for others. My earliest tear-filled memories consisted of crying for others. I remember crying when the space shuttle Challenger blew up. I cried when my mom accidentally hit our dog with the car when she was pulling out of the driveway. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve lost that. I don’t cry at funerals, traumatic events, or over others’ misfortunes anymore. Usually, I only cry out frustration or intense anger these days. Most of my past employers have seen me cry at least once. One time, I made the very poor poor decision to try bowling. All of my friends were for some reason natural kingpins, but for me, if bowling were a sobriety test for drunk driving, I would have long been lethally injected by now. I’m humiliated to say that I was really holding back tears that day. In my life, I’ve only cried during only a handful of movies. Over the past few years, I’ve cried over maybe 2 or 3 news stories. But I’ve never cried over a TV commercial, thank God. But I do enjoy a good cry. I can’t control tears that come directly from my emotions. The connection that my soul and body have with each other is generally pretty vague. Most of the time, I have no idea what they want from each other, if anything. But crying is one of those nice reminders to me that they’re in this together and really do have tough things out as a team, whether they want to or not.
Nostalgia
I think there’s a reason why nostalgia is usually accompanied with a tinge of melancholy. I don’t think we’re meant to spend that much time in the past. And I don’t like to if I don’t have to. Well, actually, that’s a lie. I am a sucker for reminiscing, especially when it comes to music. Music always directs me to specific points in my life, and comes along carrying various sensory relics with it. Food is another big one. And climate. For anybody who wants to try and get a response out of me, nostalgic influences can have a lot of control over my decisions. They filter and layer my perspective in my life, which can be a bullying challenge to my logic when I have to make choices. This is why nostalgia has a big red flag attached telling me to be on my guard. I think like dreams, nostalgia carries more personal significance and understanding, and isn’t much use to others. In order to make others sympathize or share your feelings of the past, you’ve really gotta come up with a clever way let it out. In a sense, preserving the past requires a lot of energy and effort from and relating to the present. So it makes me wonder if the past is really all that important. The past sheds quickly, and I’m not convinced that we get a lot from it. Nostalgia feeds off the present.
Posted by maggiegordon
at 1:23 PM JST
Updated: Wednesday, 8 November 2006 1:41 PM JST
