Thursday, September 20, 2007
I'm sick. Not in the I-like-kicking-puppies kinda way. Like somebody-got-their-crappy-germs-on-me-and-now-I-feel-like-crap sick.
A carpenter jumped into my mouth and sanded the back of my throat with the roughest grittiest sandpaper and then didn't clean up his mess; he just left all the powder and crumpled paper scattered upon my tonsils. A band of Germ Gypsies are dancing around the bonfire they have built under my uvula. Fire and uvula don't mix.
My nose is swollen, and I'm sure I resemble one of the enthusiastic Honkers on
I rarely get sick and, obviously, hate becoming so because of the discomfort. Even truer, I realized today, is that me getting sick makes me… one… of you. You= you mere careless mortals down there who don't know how to protect yourselves from microscopic little germs. You= you simpletons down there with your stuffy noses and wadded up tissues and your whininess about being sick. For a short miserable throat-burning nose-honking time, I am one of you.
A few people have mentioned that I have a superiority complex. I call it Reality. Now, pass the tissue.
Friday, September 14, 2007
In high school, I once did a presentation involving circles for Algebra class. I tried juggling three oranges and dropped them on the floor and some kid's desk. I apologized, explained that I am better with different types of objects, and then proceeded to pull out three kitchen knives. The kid whose desk I had hit with an orange immediately objected. I laughed. Juggling has never been one of my talents.
I still don't know how to juggle. Instead of oranges and knives, I'm trying out full-time school, part-time work, weekly guitar lessons and an infinite marriage. I occasionally try to slip dog-tending, house-keeping and meal-cooking in the rotation. I just end up with dog hair and salsa all over everything. I laugh. Juggling has never been one of my talents.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
When I joined MySpace last winter, I uploaded 15 funny videos of some of my favorite stand-up comedy routines.
Nine months later, MySpace decided that my little comedy corner was infringing copyrights and people in Copyright Land were losing pennies, even nickels, over my hosting Conan O'Brien's lost MC Hammer back-up dancer, Mitch Hedberg's mobile home repo-man, and Dhanny Boy's Scottish orchestra bagpiper.
I didn't post those videos for profit or popularity. I posted them to avoid becoming a SPAM-pimp by forwarding videos to my friends' emailboxes. Essentially, I was saying to my friends, "Hey, take a look at my file folder of funny videos!" MySpace didn't like me sharing the funny. People should pay for funny! Instead, MySpace would like me to join their ranks of OMG-U-so-craZ-LOL members and use my page for posting self-indulgent surveys telling you just what percentage of "HOT" I am and what Disney character I am most like.
Tell me it's not screwed up when I can't even share my collection for the fun and amusement of the 10 people who regularly come visit my MySpace. (No, I didn't just stutter.)
MySpace first began raiding my stash by removing the Saturday Night Live "Taco Time" clip. They then removed three videos of various stand-up acts by Jim Gaffigan and Pablo Francisco. Two days ago, I voluntarily removed the other 11 videos before I was thrown into the NoSpace clinker. Here I am now, videoless.
Well… here YOU are at my MySpace page, videoless. I still have videos in some other space of mine.
(BTW, I hate internet forwards, but I do love the kind of mail that I have to go outside to get. If you have to forward me a lame kitty joke or a fake sob story, please use pen, paper, and a stamp.)
Sunday, September 2, 2007
… Let's see…
It's Sunday. I'm sitting at my computer letting the breeze of a pre-storm pour from the window and wash over me. The sky is a beautiful contrast of gray streaking towards the ground and a bit of white fluffiness waving from the distance. The mountains are a brown-gray now and relaxing during this respite from the harsh sun beat upon them earlier in the week. Due to the Labor Day weekend, many of the county's residents have escaped the area and left the valley quiet.
My eyes and body are exhausted and fighting sleep. I must speak.
You may have noticed the drained words and photos I have shared in the last few weeks (month?). Situations around here sucked and triple-sucked. The things that didn't suck were the things that sucked less. There are still woods to travel through and roads to travel on, but I'm regaining strength, energy, and faith.
No one likes to dangle by a thread, do they? The truth I've recently remembered is that life is a cycle of cycles. I don't know of a sane person who, in the middle of winter blanketed with snow and dotted with leafless trees, runs through the streets screaming that all has died and the world has come to an end. We know that wait a few months and shoots will appear on the trees, birds will begin their morning choir, and life will emerge and stir about the earth again.
So, I'll share with you now: I am in winter, but I now carry on understanding that things will again bloom and life will stir about the earth again as surely as the sun rises and sets.Thank you for the love and concern that has been expressed by many of you. I will be fine.