Do you ever trick yourself into thinking you actually ARE going to do a bunch of undesirable chores someday? It's classic procrastination. You know, over next Christmas break, when you have time off from work you'll definitely be jonesing to organize clipped recipes. This delaying is a pastime of mine. I will choose an upcoming juncture when I have time off from work and convince myself I'm magically going to want to do something like explore the attic. Then I can peacefully lay that nagging in my head to rest. Here are a few things I can't get myself to do, despite knowing I am supposed to because someone somewhere said it's something you're supposed to do in your house:
1. Put my kid's footprints on a piece of paper and in a frame: We actually have the kit for this and I feel really bad we haven't done it. It would probably take 6 seconds but for some reason seems like a burden. I hope Mabel never has a bring- in- your- baby- footprints- day at school.
2. Organize bags into grocery/ plastic/ shopping/ lunch/ other: They're all just tossed into a cabinet haphazardly and when I need one that accommodates a lunch I indubitably come upon 9 grocery bags first and have to fish.
3. Vacuum blinds and curtains: I am actually a vacuum- a- holic now that we've got this little awesome Dyson number, but I never can bring myself to hold it vertically and do the curtains. How much dirt do curtains really amass?
4. Put friends' and family members' Christmas cards into yearly binders: love the idea but they will inevitably end up in a shoebox.
5. Throw away cosmetics I don't use: Not sure I can justify it, but definitely have perfume and lotions I haven't worn in three years sitting on my dresser. I'm good about throwing away shiz we don't use from the bathroom... Not sure why my bedroom is different.
6. Go through all our DVDs and make sure they are in properly matching cases: Does anyone watch DVDs anymore? While I think most of ours are in the right cases, there's no way all are, but it seems like a futile task since ten years from now DVDs will be collecting dust and thought of in the same way I think of 8- track machines.
7. Clean the windows: This one is probably more pressing than many of the others, and J and I acknowledge the need, but, alas, have not tackled the job. I've cleaned the sills and in a few rooms we recently painted the wood work. But the panes could use a scrubbing. Eh, seeing clearly is overrated.
8. Learn to throw away a razor after it dulls: I always use razors way longer than I should and get mad when they stop giving me a smooth and facile shave. I need to get one of those ginormous packs from BJs so I can discard and replace frequently.
9. Watch the 28 episodes of Chelsea Lately I have on DVR: They take up much precious space, but I have 28 I "need" to watch "someday" and thus shan't delete. Not sure why it's so crucial to see an interview with the likes of Rachel Bilson and Jason Biggs.
10. Roll change; We aren't reliable about it anymore, but for a solid clip of time J and I would throw change into a big pretzel container. It's still there and I think it shall die there. It's tucked away in a closet, and I know I am just never, ever going to get the rolling thingies let alone sit down with them at the kitchen table.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Monday, August 19, 2013
Behind Closed Doors
When I was younger and we'd hear of some terrible happening in someone's home-- like a divorce or a kid who fell into a drug problem or a bad argument-- and we'd say, "Wow, I would never have expected that!" my mom would always tell us, "You never know what's going on behind closed doors." I used to actually picture the people in a room, arguing or whispering or whatever, with these huge double- doors bolted shut. While the literal interpretation is silly, it was a good life lesson.
In the age of social media, there's this constant fine line between revealing too much about yourself and being a totally private, secretive hermit. I remember reading this spoof about Facebook that classified FB users into types, and one type was the stalker-- the user who would creep up and read statuses and browse photos daily but never contribute a thing. Then of course there was the oversharer-- who, for no good reason, would inform others of a minute- by- minute play book of the day. Of course then you have your fishers-- the ones fishing for attention by writing purposely vague, elusive, seemingly deep and dark statuses like, "I just can't do it anymore..." There were other types too, and the article was funny because as I read it, I thought of people I knew for each category.
All of this sharing on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or Snapchat (I have never even been on the latter two in my life) begs the question: What do you want to show to the world? Where are you closing your doors, if at all? And does it matter? If others think ill or well of you, should you be affected? (Ok, so that's several questions...)
I think back on an episode of Sex and the City (yes, again) in which Carrie obsesses for days about a girl named Nina whom Carrie is convinced is spending her days thinking about how much she hates Carrie. She runs these thoughts by her girlfriends and Stanford, and despite their counsel to get over it, she can't... or won't. Carrie literally trolls around looking for this Nina woman at the end of the episode to explain the circumstances of her break- up and her personal life, launching into a minute- long diatribe when she does locate her. Nina just sort of looks at her quizzically, as if to say, "Why are you talking to me about this crap, psycho lady?" and gives her a quick nod and an "okay." The epiphany comes at that moment for Carrie-- that it doesn't matter what others think, and they aren't thinking about you as often as you believe they are, and all that good stuff. You know, we are our own worst critics.
But that thirty- minute episode, as much as I love the show, definitely wraps that concept up with a pretty bow way too quickly and easily. In real life, we're faced often with questions about our public persona, even if we don't realize. At the end of any day, as humans, we have a natural inclination to want to be likable. And that yearning can make some tasks really challenging.
I use Facebook and generally I enjoy it. As many studies have shown, social media-- particularly FB-- has a way of making people feel bad about themselves because they see these snippets of others' lives and feel envious. "Wow, Jane's kid is just always smiling and laughing. Why isn't mine?" "Geez, Andy and Charlene went to Mexico AGAIN?? All they do is travel. My boring life here sucks." Of course Jane's kid has 6 tantrums a day but Jane doesn't want to put that into her public persona, and Andy and Charlene aren't going to invite you to join in on the twelve arguments they got into about where to stay in Mexico, or the conversation they had with the marriage counselor about how going away might really help things. Most people want to keep that stuff behind closed doors.
And then there are a few FB users who come clean to less- than- desirable shiz all the time. They'll post pics of their toddlers screaming or seagull poop on their beach towel. They'll admit to lots of crappy stuff-- the traffic they sat in this morning, how much they hate their boss, how they can't find a good babysitter... and then, hmmm, it starts bordering on the oversharing or even fishing. Gosh, this FB crap is a slippery slope, eh?
So if all this sharing- or- not is so complicated, why don't we say EFF IT and post away? Some do. some definitely do. I've hidden them from Newsfeed, but they don't know, so they don't care. I did it behind my closed doors.
I've been finding myself lately trying not to overdo it with FB posting, and especially with pictures of my kid doing "amazing" things. I worry it's boring to other people, at a certain point, and people feel like they HAVE to like it or comment on it. With all the "required" liking, FB feels like a chore sometimes! I truly do LIKE seeing cute pictures of my friends' kids doing new activities, or my cousin surfing or my coworker running a tough race. But I have to admit, it would almost be more fun to hear about the massive crap he felt like he had to take the whole time he was running. That status I would definitely LIKE.
Back at square one, but I do have a point. From all the real, behind- the- scenes stories I have heard about seemingly- blissful couples and more- than- amazing jobs, I know that most of what is on Facebook or any other outlet is window dressing. Or it's double- door dressing while other things are going on. But why do we join? And contribute? And keep liking things? And having fun on social media? Because maybe what goes on behind some people's closed doors is just too yucky. Maybe the respite from the dour and the dreary is the perfect pick- me- up, even if it's not reality.
I wish I had the balls to post more of the crappy stuff that happens-- when Mabel pees her pants because I didn't change her diaper for 6 hours or the drain gets stopped up because we let pasta get down it. But the minute- by- minute "this is my life" is scary because I worry it is egotistical. I will admit readily I find comfort in fouls and follies and they are often way more funny than the manufactured sunshiney stuff we get inundated with on Facebook, but I'm convinced nobody cares that much about my day. And they'd start tiring of me. And behind their closed doors, they'd say, "Ugh, she is so self- involved!" and then I'd find out and want to hunt them down at the park in New York City with Stanford.
In the age of social media, there's this constant fine line between revealing too much about yourself and being a totally private, secretive hermit. I remember reading this spoof about Facebook that classified FB users into types, and one type was the stalker-- the user who would creep up and read statuses and browse photos daily but never contribute a thing. Then of course there was the oversharer-- who, for no good reason, would inform others of a minute- by- minute play book of the day. Of course then you have your fishers-- the ones fishing for attention by writing purposely vague, elusive, seemingly deep and dark statuses like, "I just can't do it anymore..." There were other types too, and the article was funny because as I read it, I thought of people I knew for each category.
All of this sharing on Facebook or Twitter or Instagram or Snapchat (I have never even been on the latter two in my life) begs the question: What do you want to show to the world? Where are you closing your doors, if at all? And does it matter? If others think ill or well of you, should you be affected? (Ok, so that's several questions...)
I think back on an episode of Sex and the City (yes, again) in which Carrie obsesses for days about a girl named Nina whom Carrie is convinced is spending her days thinking about how much she hates Carrie. She runs these thoughts by her girlfriends and Stanford, and despite their counsel to get over it, she can't... or won't. Carrie literally trolls around looking for this Nina woman at the end of the episode to explain the circumstances of her break- up and her personal life, launching into a minute- long diatribe when she does locate her. Nina just sort of looks at her quizzically, as if to say, "Why are you talking to me about this crap, psycho lady?" and gives her a quick nod and an "okay." The epiphany comes at that moment for Carrie-- that it doesn't matter what others think, and they aren't thinking about you as often as you believe they are, and all that good stuff. You know, we are our own worst critics.
But that thirty- minute episode, as much as I love the show, definitely wraps that concept up with a pretty bow way too quickly and easily. In real life, we're faced often with questions about our public persona, even if we don't realize. At the end of any day, as humans, we have a natural inclination to want to be likable. And that yearning can make some tasks really challenging.
I use Facebook and generally I enjoy it. As many studies have shown, social media-- particularly FB-- has a way of making people feel bad about themselves because they see these snippets of others' lives and feel envious. "Wow, Jane's kid is just always smiling and laughing. Why isn't mine?" "Geez, Andy and Charlene went to Mexico AGAIN?? All they do is travel. My boring life here sucks." Of course Jane's kid has 6 tantrums a day but Jane doesn't want to put that into her public persona, and Andy and Charlene aren't going to invite you to join in on the twelve arguments they got into about where to stay in Mexico, or the conversation they had with the marriage counselor about how going away might really help things. Most people want to keep that stuff behind closed doors.
And then there are a few FB users who come clean to less- than- desirable shiz all the time. They'll post pics of their toddlers screaming or seagull poop on their beach towel. They'll admit to lots of crappy stuff-- the traffic they sat in this morning, how much they hate their boss, how they can't find a good babysitter... and then, hmmm, it starts bordering on the oversharing or even fishing. Gosh, this FB crap is a slippery slope, eh?
So if all this sharing- or- not is so complicated, why don't we say EFF IT and post away? Some do. some definitely do. I've hidden them from Newsfeed, but they don't know, so they don't care. I did it behind my closed doors.
I've been finding myself lately trying not to overdo it with FB posting, and especially with pictures of my kid doing "amazing" things. I worry it's boring to other people, at a certain point, and people feel like they HAVE to like it or comment on it. With all the "required" liking, FB feels like a chore sometimes! I truly do LIKE seeing cute pictures of my friends' kids doing new activities, or my cousin surfing or my coworker running a tough race. But I have to admit, it would almost be more fun to hear about the massive crap he felt like he had to take the whole time he was running. That status I would definitely LIKE.
Back at square one, but I do have a point. From all the real, behind- the- scenes stories I have heard about seemingly- blissful couples and more- than- amazing jobs, I know that most of what is on Facebook or any other outlet is window dressing. Or it's double- door dressing while other things are going on. But why do we join? And contribute? And keep liking things? And having fun on social media? Because maybe what goes on behind some people's closed doors is just too yucky. Maybe the respite from the dour and the dreary is the perfect pick- me- up, even if it's not reality.
I wish I had the balls to post more of the crappy stuff that happens-- when Mabel pees her pants because I didn't change her diaper for 6 hours or the drain gets stopped up because we let pasta get down it. But the minute- by- minute "this is my life" is scary because I worry it is egotistical. I will admit readily I find comfort in fouls and follies and they are often way more funny than the manufactured sunshiney stuff we get inundated with on Facebook, but I'm convinced nobody cares that much about my day. And they'd start tiring of me. And behind their closed doors, they'd say, "Ugh, she is so self- involved!" and then I'd find out and want to hunt them down at the park in New York City with Stanford.
Friday, August 9, 2013
Imagination Station
Mabel has started with much imaginative play and it fascinates the crap out of me. I know that a lot of people would roll their eyes at this, but I just love watching her emulate reality by carrying out a completely fantastical task. One of her favorite things to do is "feed" her animals some milk or juice. She goes from Bun- Bun (her massive rabbit) to her "dodgey" (dog) and offers a nice beverage to each, awkwardly holding the spout up to the stuffed animal's mouth-- or sometimes nose. She laughs really hard when I make a gulping noise in response. I don't know if she thinks she is actually feeding these things, but it is so cute to watch.
Another imaginative act is pretending to pour milk from her sippy into a dry bowl of cheerios. Mabel likes dry cheerios and would make an absolute wreck of a bowl with actual milk. But after seeing me pour milk from a carton into my Cheerios, she now "does" the same. Then she takes a nice big bite using the spoon, and goes, "Mmmmmm." After that, she adds more and more milk as she goes.
A third one is no surprise given Mabel's affinity for "shies" -- AKA shoes. She tries doggedly to put her own shoes on, but now also to put them on any number of dolls and stuffed animals. You know, because her stuffed elephant needs to walk around the house in sneakers or Toms.
Holding the remote up to the TV and pretending to change the channel, or holding a cell phone up to her ear are imaginative things Mabel has been doing for a while. I don't know why, but I took so much more notice when she started imagining to care for her buddies or make her own food. I always wonder what's going on in that little squash of hers, and it's marvelous to get a real glimpse.
Another imaginative act is pretending to pour milk from her sippy into a dry bowl of cheerios. Mabel likes dry cheerios and would make an absolute wreck of a bowl with actual milk. But after seeing me pour milk from a carton into my Cheerios, she now "does" the same. Then she takes a nice big bite using the spoon, and goes, "Mmmmmm." After that, she adds more and more milk as she goes.
A third one is no surprise given Mabel's affinity for "shies" -- AKA shoes. She tries doggedly to put her own shoes on, but now also to put them on any number of dolls and stuffed animals. You know, because her stuffed elephant needs to walk around the house in sneakers or Toms.
Holding the remote up to the TV and pretending to change the channel, or holding a cell phone up to her ear are imaginative things Mabel has been doing for a while. I don't know why, but I took so much more notice when she started imagining to care for her buddies or make her own food. I always wonder what's going on in that little squash of hers, and it's marvelous to get a real glimpse.
Tuesday, August 6, 2013
Encyclopedia
I hope the concept of the "Encyclopedia of Me" doesn't seem arrogant to readers. It's the exercise my friend is using for class this week to get members minds' jogging and to engender topics for blogging/ other reflective writing. Figured since I was going to write one, I'd put mine here. The idea (which actually came from my good friend C, who uses it in her Creative Writing class at school) is to write a mini- encyclopedia of yourself... You can skip or include whichever letters you wish and can write as much as you want for each entry.
A: Anxiety
No surprise, eh? But the funny thing about it is the range of topics-- from what will happen to my family members in the future to how I'll react if I can't find the mate for one of Mabel's shoes. The woman who originally spearheaded this Encyclopedia of Me thing wrote of her anxiety about vending machines-- how when she is making her choice she has to say "C-4" aloud and be extra careful in pushing the buttons so she doesn't end up with Bugles when she wanted Reese's (or something like that). I laughed aloud because I am the same way. Anxiety is constant-- from the picayune to the grand. I am not going to provide commentary about it or judge it or apologize for it today. I am just going to list it.
B: Beats
I don't have many talents and if you've come to read this blog at all regularly I hope I have made it clear I am not a conceited person. BUT I do have one ability about which I must boast: I have what some have called an uncanny skill in identifying songs right away-- by their first few notes or beats. I would love to be on Name That Tune. Songs can range in genre and period, with my Achilles Heel being country music since I am not a fan. I have played coworkers and my husband in this game and I can't be "beat." :)
C: Catcher
I am lucky to get to teach American Lit because the curriculum houses two of my favorite books, and one of them is The Catcher in the Rye. I never get sick of it, even after 12 years of teaching it. Holden is so lovable and deranged and normal and pitiable and off- putting and sweet and judgmental and vulnerable all at the same time. He is a kid. He is all of us. Beautiful passages abound in that novel-- my favorite being the one about when it rains on Allie's (Holden's kid brother's) grave:
When the weather's nice, my parents go out quite frequently and stick a bunch of flowers on old Allie's grave. I went with them a couple of times, but I cut it out. In the first place, I don't enjoy seeing him in that crazy cemetery. Surrounded by dead guys and tombstones and all. It wasn't too bad when the sun was out, but twice - twice - we were there when it started to rain. It was awful. It rained on his lousy tombstone, and it rained on the grass on his stomach. It rained all over the place. All the visitors that were visiting the cemetery started running like hell over to their cars. That's what nearly drove me crazy. All the visitors could get in their cars and turn on their radios and all and then go someplace nice for dinner - everybody except Allie. I couldn't stand it. I know it's only his body and all that's in the cemetery, and his soul's in Heaven and all that crap, but I couldn't stand it anyway. I just wished he wasn't there (ch. 20).
D: Dogs
I am a dog- lover through and through. I have many friends who own and love cats, and I understand the person- to- pet bond so I can't judge, but I am afraid of cats and don't find them warm or welcoming. I don't understand them and their eyes and sprightliness scare the bejeezus out of me. I mention cats for the contrast. Dogs are consistently sweet, and with the exception of a few aggressive breeds and other dogs that have been mistreated, you never have to fear dogs pouncing on you and scratching your eyes out, as you do with cats. My parents' dog Cam is perhaps the most loyal, kind- hearted animal I have ever been around in my life. When I was going through a difficult time and living with them, his daily greetings and snuggles kept me sane. They truly did. He's now 7.5 and is still the same loving, cuddly big boy. J and I would like to get a dog, but we will settle on cleaning up only human poop and pee for now. A toddler is actually quite like a dog, but more on that some other time. By the way, Holden, in the above entry, is a dog, metaphorically speaking, and so is Gatsby, whom I will get to later. But pet/ person analogies are a topic for another day. Let's just say calling them dogs is a good thing in this context.
F: Friends
Friends, the common noun, are a huge part of my life and I could write a separate blog about each one, thanking them for their awesomeness because I am lucky to have some amazing friends. The word "amazing" gets overused ("Those shoes look amazing!" -- Really, those high- heels have captivated you in a way that, say, a UFO might?) But my friends DO amaze me with how loyal, caring, and unwaveringly supportive they are. This entry, however, is about the proper noun-- the TV show "Friends," which I will argue on paper or orally is the best sit- com of my lifetime so far. I was overjoyed when a student two years ago shared my affinity, as he would have been a toddler when the show started, but he knew and loved the series with the same force I did. More than once I let the class get off track for a few minutes while Dan and I discussed episodes and repeated their best lines. In some of my most anxious hours and on dour days, I feel relief when I find a Friends rerun on TBS because I know I can relax a bit. It's still funny, even though I've probably seen each episode at least 4 or 5 times. I will recommend some favorites here: Rachel's Trifle Dessert/ The Game Show to Win the Apartment/ Phoebe Hates Pottery Barn/ The One Where No One's Ready/ Ross's Tan/ Ross's Teeth/ Monica's Boots/ The 30th Birthdays/ Joey Goes on The Pyramid Show/ and... my all- time favorite--- Phoebe's VERY Happy Boyfriend (Alec Baldwin). I love some newer comedies, such as The Big Bang Theory and Modern Family, but I have not stayed as devoted to those as I was with Friends. The writing, the casting, the New York backdrop-- it all worked divinely.
G: Glasses
I remember a mean girl in junior high squinting at me in class and spitting these words: "Are you EVER not squinting?" She added a "haha" and something to soften the blow like, "It's just too funny! You are always doing that!" But her couching the biting observation with a bit of humor didn't work. It stung. I can still picture the room where we were sitting when she said it, about 22 years ago. I have always been a squinter, but I suppose back then I hoped nobody noticed much. Not sure if I failed the school eye exam or my parents had an inkling I had poor vision, but they had me at the eye doc and in a pair of Wonder Woman brand maroon glasses (I picked them out) by the age of 7. I had a complex about being a four- eyes at that age because none of the other kids in Mrs. Carr's class had glasses. So, I would put them on for whatever chalkboard lesson we were doing, and immediately whip them off when they were no longer necessary. I think rather unwittingly, that routine carried on through high school. As a result, I probably squinted a lot (and do now too). God forbid back in high school I wear those suckers in the corridors. It was bad enough I had to do so to drive and read anything more than about 5 feet away; I wasn't about to subject myself to social cruelty. (It's one of those things that was mostly in my head because by the time high school rolls around, people seem to be over the concept of glasses. In some circles, they are even cool.) But I would wear them sparingly, and I know I missed saying hello to friendly passersby as a consequence. A guy friend asked me once, "Are you just really in the zone in the hallways? 'Cause you look miserable and never say hi." I had to admit to vanity and that I didn't say hello because I physically did not see him.
When you're someone who takes glasses off and puts them on erratically and often, you are bound to lose them. I am totally over any sort of glasses stigma of course as an adult, but I now don't want them on my face if I am reading close- up because I am only near- sighted and it's easier to read close things without them. I also hate the sensation of them sitting on my nose when I am eating. I know it's weird, but I can't stand it. As you can imagine, I have lost more than one pair (and my prescription is expeeeeensive, with an astigmatism and all sorts of other crap going on in my eyes). My coworker gave me one of those librarian chains to wear-- which I loved and did not care a hoot about the old- lady label I'd gain-- but I ended up losing that thing too. I'm fairly organized, but I have lost way too many pairs of glasses and sunglasses (and also a few keys but that's a different topic) than I should have at this juncture. My mom jokes that at least twice a week, someone must be subjected-- whether it's J, my parents, a friend, a coworker-- to the tune of, "Has anyone seen my glasses?" I don't know the cure for my problem. I'm not wearing them now and would like to add I have no idea where they lie.
To Be Continued...
A: Anxiety
No surprise, eh? But the funny thing about it is the range of topics-- from what will happen to my family members in the future to how I'll react if I can't find the mate for one of Mabel's shoes. The woman who originally spearheaded this Encyclopedia of Me thing wrote of her anxiety about vending machines-- how when she is making her choice she has to say "C-4" aloud and be extra careful in pushing the buttons so she doesn't end up with Bugles when she wanted Reese's (or something like that). I laughed aloud because I am the same way. Anxiety is constant-- from the picayune to the grand. I am not going to provide commentary about it or judge it or apologize for it today. I am just going to list it.
B: Beats
I don't have many talents and if you've come to read this blog at all regularly I hope I have made it clear I am not a conceited person. BUT I do have one ability about which I must boast: I have what some have called an uncanny skill in identifying songs right away-- by their first few notes or beats. I would love to be on Name That Tune. Songs can range in genre and period, with my Achilles Heel being country music since I am not a fan. I have played coworkers and my husband in this game and I can't be "beat." :)
C: Catcher
I am lucky to get to teach American Lit because the curriculum houses two of my favorite books, and one of them is The Catcher in the Rye. I never get sick of it, even after 12 years of teaching it. Holden is so lovable and deranged and normal and pitiable and off- putting and sweet and judgmental and vulnerable all at the same time. He is a kid. He is all of us. Beautiful passages abound in that novel-- my favorite being the one about when it rains on Allie's (Holden's kid brother's) grave:
When the weather's nice, my parents go out quite frequently and stick a bunch of flowers on old Allie's grave. I went with them a couple of times, but I cut it out. In the first place, I don't enjoy seeing him in that crazy cemetery. Surrounded by dead guys and tombstones and all. It wasn't too bad when the sun was out, but twice - twice - we were there when it started to rain. It was awful. It rained on his lousy tombstone, and it rained on the grass on his stomach. It rained all over the place. All the visitors that were visiting the cemetery started running like hell over to their cars. That's what nearly drove me crazy. All the visitors could get in their cars and turn on their radios and all and then go someplace nice for dinner - everybody except Allie. I couldn't stand it. I know it's only his body and all that's in the cemetery, and his soul's in Heaven and all that crap, but I couldn't stand it anyway. I just wished he wasn't there (ch. 20).
D: Dogs
I am a dog- lover through and through. I have many friends who own and love cats, and I understand the person- to- pet bond so I can't judge, but I am afraid of cats and don't find them warm or welcoming. I don't understand them and their eyes and sprightliness scare the bejeezus out of me. I mention cats for the contrast. Dogs are consistently sweet, and with the exception of a few aggressive breeds and other dogs that have been mistreated, you never have to fear dogs pouncing on you and scratching your eyes out, as you do with cats. My parents' dog Cam is perhaps the most loyal, kind- hearted animal I have ever been around in my life. When I was going through a difficult time and living with them, his daily greetings and snuggles kept me sane. They truly did. He's now 7.5 and is still the same loving, cuddly big boy. J and I would like to get a dog, but we will settle on cleaning up only human poop and pee for now. A toddler is actually quite like a dog, but more on that some other time. By the way, Holden, in the above entry, is a dog, metaphorically speaking, and so is Gatsby, whom I will get to later. But pet/ person analogies are a topic for another day. Let's just say calling them dogs is a good thing in this context.
F: Friends
Friends, the common noun, are a huge part of my life and I could write a separate blog about each one, thanking them for their awesomeness because I am lucky to have some amazing friends. The word "amazing" gets overused ("Those shoes look amazing!" -- Really, those high- heels have captivated you in a way that, say, a UFO might?) But my friends DO amaze me with how loyal, caring, and unwaveringly supportive they are. This entry, however, is about the proper noun-- the TV show "Friends," which I will argue on paper or orally is the best sit- com of my lifetime so far. I was overjoyed when a student two years ago shared my affinity, as he would have been a toddler when the show started, but he knew and loved the series with the same force I did. More than once I let the class get off track for a few minutes while Dan and I discussed episodes and repeated their best lines. In some of my most anxious hours and on dour days, I feel relief when I find a Friends rerun on TBS because I know I can relax a bit. It's still funny, even though I've probably seen each episode at least 4 or 5 times. I will recommend some favorites here: Rachel's Trifle Dessert/ The Game Show to Win the Apartment/ Phoebe Hates Pottery Barn/ The One Where No One's Ready/ Ross's Tan/ Ross's Teeth/ Monica's Boots/ The 30th Birthdays/ Joey Goes on The Pyramid Show/ and... my all- time favorite--- Phoebe's VERY Happy Boyfriend (Alec Baldwin). I love some newer comedies, such as The Big Bang Theory and Modern Family, but I have not stayed as devoted to those as I was with Friends. The writing, the casting, the New York backdrop-- it all worked divinely.
G: Glasses
I remember a mean girl in junior high squinting at me in class and spitting these words: "Are you EVER not squinting?" She added a "haha" and something to soften the blow like, "It's just too funny! You are always doing that!" But her couching the biting observation with a bit of humor didn't work. It stung. I can still picture the room where we were sitting when she said it, about 22 years ago. I have always been a squinter, but I suppose back then I hoped nobody noticed much. Not sure if I failed the school eye exam or my parents had an inkling I had poor vision, but they had me at the eye doc and in a pair of Wonder Woman brand maroon glasses (I picked them out) by the age of 7. I had a complex about being a four- eyes at that age because none of the other kids in Mrs. Carr's class had glasses. So, I would put them on for whatever chalkboard lesson we were doing, and immediately whip them off when they were no longer necessary. I think rather unwittingly, that routine carried on through high school. As a result, I probably squinted a lot (and do now too). God forbid back in high school I wear those suckers in the corridors. It was bad enough I had to do so to drive and read anything more than about 5 feet away; I wasn't about to subject myself to social cruelty. (It's one of those things that was mostly in my head because by the time high school rolls around, people seem to be over the concept of glasses. In some circles, they are even cool.) But I would wear them sparingly, and I know I missed saying hello to friendly passersby as a consequence. A guy friend asked me once, "Are you just really in the zone in the hallways? 'Cause you look miserable and never say hi." I had to admit to vanity and that I didn't say hello because I physically did not see him.
When you're someone who takes glasses off and puts them on erratically and often, you are bound to lose them. I am totally over any sort of glasses stigma of course as an adult, but I now don't want them on my face if I am reading close- up because I am only near- sighted and it's easier to read close things without them. I also hate the sensation of them sitting on my nose when I am eating. I know it's weird, but I can't stand it. As you can imagine, I have lost more than one pair (and my prescription is expeeeeensive, with an astigmatism and all sorts of other crap going on in my eyes). My coworker gave me one of those librarian chains to wear-- which I loved and did not care a hoot about the old- lady label I'd gain-- but I ended up losing that thing too. I'm fairly organized, but I have lost way too many pairs of glasses and sunglasses (and also a few keys but that's a different topic) than I should have at this juncture. My mom jokes that at least twice a week, someone must be subjected-- whether it's J, my parents, a friend, a coworker-- to the tune of, "Has anyone seen my glasses?" I don't know the cure for my problem. I'm not wearing them now and would like to add I have no idea where they lie.
To Be Continued...
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