Show interest is what they said. But I would tell them there are certain moments in life you really wish you were inside a soundproof room so you could scream all your problems away. Or at least rid yourself of that nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach that seems to nag at you in the least convenient way possible at the most awkward moments in time. How do you do it?
There’s no way someone could see through to your thoughts. You have to express them in words, but what if there are no words to describe what you are going through? What if you must use dance or pictures, but you have none at hand and no footloose skills? Time. Someone would need to observe you when you don’t know they are watching. At the very least they would be able to deduce whether you have integrity or not. When you’re driving on the highway are you one of those who slows down as soon as a cop is driving by? Or do you follow the speed limit no matter what?
Don’t be too of anything. Too smart. Too skinny. Too boring. Too broken. We’re all broken though. Show me someone who’s not broken and I’ll show you someone who’s lying. Show interest is what they said. But I would tell them grab a parachute and just jump already.
I can’t help but think that because of all the new discoveries that get reported on a daily basis, on any given day on any given moment I am doing something wrong, living my life wrong. It’s like some hypochondriac paranoia, if such a thing actually exists. Like we’re not supposed to shower every day. Or how your cat can pass a disease to you so you shouldn’t put your face so close to it. Or how about the one about how you shouldn’t eat chicken breasts with veins in them. o.O For better or worse, the choices we make define us. It just seems nowadays it’s getting harder and harder to know how to make the right choices. Because of this there are some days I really just want to throw my hands up in the air and let these new discoveries win. If I think too much on them, I’ll paralyze my day and not move forward in anything. It’s like that time in seventh grade science class when we had to pair up and try to draw something on a piece of paper by looking through a mirror at the reflection of the piece of paper. I was doing fine until my pen felt like it hit a wall and all of a sudden I couldn’t move it further back and I was scribbling back and forth until the lines all scribbled together and the picture didn’t look like anything.
Someone I know has the motto, Dream Big. (I’m probably violating several writing rules here, but honestly, that’s what I want it to look like. Dream Big. Not dream big. Not “dream big.” Not DREAM BIG. Dream Big.) Knowing her and where she came from, I would say that motto has worked for her and continues to work for her. And she doesn’t even believe in Jesus.
OK, so this may not apply to every atheist or agnostic person, but doesn’t this example show we all have a desire to be a part of something bigger than ourselves? (Excuse the cliché, but I really mean it.) We all want to be a part of a team. Not just any old team though. No, a team that is more of a loving community, happily supportive of each other.
That said, wouldn’t it be cool if we were all a part of the same team? Instead of people tearing each other apart to get ahead like we’re a Darwinian experiment, people building each other up to bring out the best and only the best parts of each other. Wouldn’t it be cool if we lived on a planet where there was no killing, enough resources for all organisms and none domesticated for the pleasure of others. (Yes, I’m talking about zoo animals and pets. They should be free to roam and not looked at every day for a price or abandoned because their owner suddenly changes their mind on keeping them.) I would love to be a part of Team Earth.
Limbo. I always seem to be in limbo. Always. Never fails. Or never takes off? Is that righter? I don’t know. I just know about limbo. I’m like the Tooth Fairy in the DCOM “Toothless.” (DCOM stands for Disney Channel Original Movie for those of you who are wondering.) I’m like the anorexic removing every last grain of white rice from my plate and still thinking there’s too much food to eat. I’m the girl waiting for my crush to text back. I’m the defendant waiting for the verdict. I’m the student waiting to get her exam paper back.
I sometimes wonder if anyone else feels like this and how many. Because there is always someone out there who has felt the same as you no matter how alone you may feel. Yeah, but how many? And what is with my obsession with numbers? Am I autistic? I’m stuck in between caring about numbers and caring about words. I used to care about numbers more than words and then one day I flipped the switch and now I’m all about words and less about numbers.
But where has that gotten me? Limbo! I’m “Tuck Everlasting.” I’m Peter Pan. Actually that’s a whole other issue. You get the picture. Not the whole picture, but you know what I mean. You can pick up what I’m laying down. Who are you anyway? Why am I telling you this? Are you my parents? Friends? Society? I’ve been trying to figure you out for some time too so consider yourself in limbo. Ha!
You know that part in “Going the Distance” when Drew Barrymore’s character tells Justin Long’s character her timeline is off? Yeah, that’s me. And I know I’m probably not the only one out there going through a crooked life timeline, but it doesn’t make me feel any better. I do, however, feel comfort in knowing that when I get through this stage of my life, I’ll be able to help those who get stuck feeling this way through sharing my experiences. But that’s such a remote comfort it almost seems absurd to even have this kind of comfort exist in the world. Maybe I just made it up?
(Well, just in case you don’t know what I’m talking about, a crooked life timeline a la “Going the Distance” style is, in one example, being a 31-year-old intern.)
On a side note, it makes me sad to think some people have so much potential to become someone outstanding, but because other people are so jealous, they do everything they can in their power to tear that person down before that person has realized their full potential. In some cases, this leads to a crooked life timeline, but of course, no path is ever taken without at least partial influence coming from the walker himself. After all, it is the walker who chose the path in the end, regardless of who influenced their decision to go down that path.
(Sorry guys, this isn’t my most optimistic post, but I just had to share. Sharing is caring. ;))
Screw it all. You try to eat healthy and exercise to stay in shape and then you lose out on writing time. You try to maximize your writing time by setting goals and meeting a word count every day and then you lose out on staying in shape. It’s one or the other. You can’t please everybody or you’ll turn into a donkey. I’ll just get fat and TB and write the best novel I have written in a long time and then croak and only become famous posthumously because I couldn’t do it all. That’s in right now, isn’t it?
So I’m about to take a shower and I’m brushing my teeth/stripping and I’m thinking about what I need to write about. I can hear the text message dings while I’m thinking about what I have to put into words. I can hear my thoughts trying to climb over the rhododendrons to get to my plans for the rest of the evening as I’m thinking about what I must absolutely throw up onto the screen. And it comes down to this:
In college one of my guy friends introduced to me one of his buddies to our lunch table and I thought that buddy was one of the most annoying, stick-up-his-butt, obnoxious human beings around. The worst part is he had no clue he was being this way. Have you ever met someone like that? Someone who thought his word was law and no one could contradict his opinions? That was stick-up-his-butt guy and we did not get along. One day he asked everyone if they are a “cup person” or a “hand person,” referring to what you use when brushing your teeth. At the time I was a “cup person” and declared as much. He said I can’t be a “cup person” if I want to be clean. He was a “hand person” himself.
I thought this was just another one of his ridiculous claims. Who brushes their teeth by carrying water in their hand? But after some time noticing for myself the mildew that so easily grows in cups and the constant need to clean the cup, I finally agree with him on one thing–it’s a lot easier and cleaner to be a “hand person” than a “cup person.” You’re welcome.
(And here I was thinking no way in 65 million years would I ever agree with stick-up-his-butt guy on anything. Goes to show you should never say never.)