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Wednesday, January 20, 2010

IF I HAD MY LIFE TO LIVE OVER - by Erma Bombeck (written after she found out she was dying from cancer)

.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn with my grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, 'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.' There would have been more 'I love you's' More 'I'm sorry's.'

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute.look at it and really see it . live it and never give it back. STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!

Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what
Instead, let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Asimplegirl Jones November 23 at 10:11pm

"in the weeds" aka...

under an enormous pile of...jambalaya - i actually just like to say the word "jambalaya."

pretend that you are under a mountain of randomly strewed...books (how fitting)

there is no light.

you are protected only by a shabbily constructed support system that you have managed to build high enough to accommodate your body, although your legs must stay crossed and you are hunched, the shape of your back a perfect bow just below the roof of your protective literary sheathing.

your only source of air comes from placing your mouth around the straw-like outlet you created from tearing pages out of a glossy paged book and rolling them up like a straw, leading them out through the tiny little glimpse of light you'd seen days before...or lifetimes ago...

your only steady stream of oxygen.

"they" say people can go crazy confined in a dark and crowded space for and extended period of time, eventually losing the ability to track exactly that:

time.

you can get out.

it is possible.

but you must arrange and organize strategically and meticulously from the inside, causing things you can't see on the surface to shift with each of your buried movements.

sometimes a space appears that you can just barely reach an arm through and feel books on other layers above you...
the absence of light when this arm-width space is created only reminds you that the layers are deep...they are heavy.
you reach, blindly, feeling...touching...sending images to your brain as you try and construct the appearance visually without the use of you eyes...
flashes of light separate these images in your head as you try and construct and document the details of what your fingers touch.

you must build your way out, blindly, risk as your only lead and your only threat, knowing that each move you make in the process could cause the demise of your protective nucleus, leaving you once again without oxygen, foundation, support, or beginning.

but i always welcome a challenge...

...such is life...

Friday, November 6, 2009

blue canoe...

November 1 at 11:52pm

this is what just happened on the back deck...

Liz and I go outside for a cigarette (i randomly smoke and i like it but only on special occasions...this one, being "amanda and liz are together")

She just came back from the store so when we've both lit our cigarettes, i look to her for the much anticipated "I was gone for 5 minutes and i have at least a good 39 minutes of adventures at the Blue Canoe" story.

"OK, so my Blue Canoe story. Are you ready for it?"

I'm almost actually dancing with 12 year old excitement...

She begins to describe how it must have been "shift change" because one girl was "doing her drawer..."

Then she went on to try and explain to me that from what she gathered without actually INQUIRING about the "cash-up methods" of shift change under 6 different cameras in a venue that would be an easy target for the amateur criminal, with easy access to Interstate 295, the Maine Turnpike, Route 1, and into a major shopping extravaganza of roads and parking lots, etc (i typed "internet" first by accident just then - then i laughed, wondering what you'd think if I hadn't caught the mistake...then i laughed again). Easy escape. Common target.

So she didn't inquire. But, from the initial run on sentence, she THINKS that from what she could SEE, the SAFE at the store had one of "Insert dollar bill here, face up" type of apparatus instead of a...door? padlock? built in combination?

what.

And just before we then bury ourselves into a completely pointless yet always entertaining analysis of how badly that would SUCK if you have to cash out a drawer through one of those devices, ONE BILL AT A TIME...

and a conVENience store...fuck.

that would suck.

you KNOW they are overLOADED with ones...EVERYONE uses ones at a convenience store...

...wait.

do we?

this then lead to the analysis of IF we do...

and what are you buying?

because SOMETIMES i would be more apt to produce two-one dollar bills for a typical 20 FL OZ of Dragonfruit, which comes in at a nauseating $1.59 on a GOOD day. especially if i entered the store with the intention of getting my Dragonfruit fix, coupled with a strong, physical need to rehydrate, which then means I would've had the 2 bucks in my hand by the time I put the truck in park, because I was centered.

focused.

thirsty.

HOWEVER, somewhere before that entire segment began, I somehow interjected a complete 10 minute narrative, with motions, and SERIOUS gestures because i'm apparently compelled to say how Liz and are are always tired between the afternoon hours of 3 and 5pm and how today i was violent.

she never spoke.

she sat in silence while i paced and circled the patio, leaned on the bricks, walked around waving my arms because I'd normally be screaming with my sometimes "excitement and drama directly reflected by volume and this has a shitload of excitement but actually...none,* "story telling" voice,

BUT

condo development.

two levels of living directly above us.

therefore, i have to settle (INSERT HERE: another story (LMAO) about how offensive a random Quizno's television advertisement that we'd just both witnessed which then was within seconds, centered around how when the kids are all grown up, will the people of the world be more accepting and ever equally respectful of humanity as a whole

or will we just continue to segregate until the pre-requisite list of characteristics is so specific and absolute lunacy in content, that the groups are small enough and now can only begin to wipe another one out in order to gain more members...

and the cycle begins to repeat itself...

a wave

totally consistent from a distance

have to zoom in through light years of time and space to get to the "nitty gritty" which tends only to differ in technology and degree as time passes, with a reflection in increasing complexity due to the "added features" of science

but at the base of the people, each chapter has only ONE main idea.

the mind

starvation/obesity in a "world of people,"

...not a "people of this descent," region, climate

only half of that was actually part of the spoken interjection.

the rest of it just fell out while i was co-analyzing the first portion as I typed it just minutes ago...

and then i just dropped it because I think i"m three layers deep now and now i have serious potential to lose all of them if i add more)

ok that was QUIZNOS to PEOPLE OF THE WORLD

however,

I'm actually still pacing around outside about the gestures, as exaggerated and sometimes what a "normal" person would consider to be "crazy" movements (i'm animated. shut up) attempt to equal out to the volume that i can't utilize to my advantage.

so i throw in the pointless and failed whisper attempt

...about afternoon sleepiness & violent afternoon emotion.

i randomly, probably mid-sentence, decide somewhere along the mind, that i realize i'm even TELLING a story...just stop talking...

there's a comfortable silence...we never actually HAVE to speak in order to talk...she and I share flesh in another life. it's creepy sometimes.

still quiet.

probably taking a drag, listening to hear if the airplane engine at the Portland Airport NEXT DOOR is coming in or taking off, doing this often enough to be able to recognize the status faster each time you do this within the realm of these comfortable silences, observing the rollerblading man that just travels back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, and always carries an orange water bottle, perhaps trying to create a pneumonic device via song, or maybe an acronym for the groceries i need to get on Monday night...thinking about how the time change SUCKS when your kid is three

and then finally,...after a fair time designation for completion of one of the latter (maybe even more) passes,

LIZ.

SPEAKS.

and she says:

so i tried to watch nonchalantly to see if the girl was going to try and slide some of the money from that drawer she was tallying, INto the "insert your bill here, face up money thing* or...

...or what?

but (her words speed up as a direct result of the battle that rose within her)

OHMYGOD my turn at the register is almost OVER! am i even going to be able to find OUT if she sticks a bill into that thing before he gives me my CHANGE? holy shit i'm going to miss it!

she was going to MIIISSS IIIIIIT! Nooooo! (echo of distressed Nooooo, echo of distressed Noooo a little bit lower in volume, echo of distressed Noooo a little bit lower than the last "little bit lower" in volume)

I'm about an inch away from her face by now with "anticipatory jubilee" and

AAAAAND:

no.

no unexpected yet happily ending SAVE at the end where the guy drops her change all over the counter and some rolls on the floor, and then after an awkwardly awkward attempt at gathering, remembering how much you were getting in change...

...in the meantime, you've been gifted with more time to observe...

no.

nothing even like that.

just.

END LIZ's Blue Canoe story

i finally speak:

"ok, sooo...*eyes look left, eyes look right, looking for what i missed* did the girl put any money into the "insert bill here, face up thingy?"

"Oh! oh. l don't know."

"what do you mean you don't KNOW?"

"i left."

"what?! you didn't impromptu tie your shoes to linger? appear as though you remembered that box of NERDS that you meant to buy? you don't even know what happened, ...? there's no..."rest of the story?"

"no, buddy," she chuckles. "that was the story."

*shaking my head*

"what the FUCK, buddy*

"SORRY, buddy. i just couldn't figure it OUT so i was sharing the story!"

"sucks."

"i'm freezing."

"me too."

"let's go in."

Monday, October 19, 2009

don't call me

it's snowing. real snow now. like a the New England game kind of snowing...i have love/hate feelings

about it...that's all i dare to say...

40 minutes ago from TweetDeck

to help you hit rock bottom...