9.23.2009

one hundred. one.

My body is heavy, too tired to bear its own weight. 
Every second I slip into a slightly more slumped position.
Soon I'll be just a heap on the floor.
Blegh. 10 hours at work and 1 crappy movie is enough for one day. I'm through. 

What did brighten this gloom is a message from the fellow. We both shared great stories from our day via facebook message [the most romantic form of communication, obviously]. His was that he tackled pumping some outhouses at camp today. I won't go into the gory details, but it makes for a funny episode if you enjoy that stinky, fecal matter side of humor. My story is as follows, copied from the message so that I don't have to retype. 

Story: This one old guy walks in, and I asked, like I always do: "Hello! How are you doing today?" So this old guy gets super mad, and says "I KNEW you were going to ask me that!" Obviously, I'm confused at his reaction, so I give him a questioning look. 
"I don't know you and you don't know me!" he says. "Why would you ask me that? I was happy before you asked."
"And now you're not? Because I asked?" I said, trying to be upbeat.
"Correct. I want a small coffee."
I get him a small coffee. He remarks on the cheap price [which turns out to be sarcasm], then says: "You know what? The biggest percentage of people who ask that question are young and unmarried women." He's saying all of this in just the rudest tone. Like I'm an idiot. And offensive. 
"Are you sure it doesn't have more to do with the fact that I'm...working behind a counter?" I ask. I'm getting mad. Sometimes when I get mad I start to cry, so I'm trying not to cry at this point. But I'm still trying to be upbeat.
"No. It's because you don't know or understand the trials and tribulations of life yet. And let me tell you something, honestly. I'm being honest. I'm never coming back here again. I'm serious. I won't be back. McDonald's gives senior citizens coffee for 50 cents." He makes a face like I am ridiculous, grabs his coffee, says "God Bless" and walks out.


What a wretched ordeal. I honestly just didn't know how to respond. I have this thing that maybe falls into typical lines of human nature that I wish to be liked and accepted, and if someone has a problem with me I really don't like it. I don't appreciate conflict or drama. I'm kind of an up front person. So while I appreciated his candor and honesty, I had no idea how to take someone being so outlandishly rude to me. Who does that?!
I'd honestly just rather be cleaning up crap with the fellow in the U.P. than dealing with that old, crabby man.

9.16.2009

one hundred.

made it! it's a little sad that it's taken me all this time to get to 100 posts, but it is what it is.

worked today. sliced my finger open today. Oh, the hazards of working in a kitchen. knives & sharp edges. I'm so clumsy that it's bound to happen. I don't know how I haven't dropped heaps of plates yet. Truly a miracle.
Then got home & Tai said she was going up to hang out at Lake Geneva so I tagged along. We sat in a coffee house and read and I took a nap on a couch they had there after drinking some soy hot chocolate which is so comforting. Nothing in the world like soy hot chocolate.
Ate so much junk today, but I try & justify it by saying that I did work out this morning! Altogether extraordinary, but also not, because somehow I've been managing to keep it up. Again, truly a miracle.
Things eaten:
2 cookies, fresh baked [thank you Tai]
drank a soy hot chocolate [i figure soy is good, right?]
ate a gallon of Cold Stone ice cream, yummm. It was long overdue.
After the coffee shop we walked down and sat on the pier.
Tai sketched and I marveled at the choppy water.
When I was younger I used to take the world so literally. In my Dad's art class he would constantly tell me not to draw after what I thought the world looked like, but really look at it.
A difficult task for left-brained child.
I figured since water was blue-green, when I drew choppy water it would be the same, that same consistent color.
But when the water is choppy & glinting off of sun and sky it's so many different colors.
Truly boggles the mind.
Glinting gold where the sun hits it, then white and the lightest blue, vibrantly reflected.
Then murky grays and surprising purplish hues.
Alive with so many more colors than you would initially think of.
It was mesmerizing.
Stared at the water until two older men pulled around in their boat and started singing "Sitting in the evening sun..."
We figured that was our cue to leave.

Reading "The Reason for God." What an excellent read. So much of it is so relevant. Finished the chapter today on the innate knowledge of God. Don't know why, but the chapter was almost heartbreaking.
Also have really enjoyed countless references to people who hold to the belief that there is no ultimate truth, no ultimate reality, no ultimate meaning for life [i.e. my sociology teacher]. I loved the quote he gave from C.S. Lewis:
"But you cannot go on "explaining away" for ever: you will find that you have explained explanation itself away. You cannot go on "seeing through" things for ever. The whole point of seeing through something is to see something through it. It is good that the window should be transparent, because the street or garden beyond it is opaque. How if you saw through the garden too?...a wholly transparent world is an invisible world. To "see through" all things is the same as not to see."
So interesting.

Speaking of books, I read "The Shack" a little while back. I really should journal my thoughts more about books I read so I remember them, because I can barely remember now why I thought the book was so ridiculous. I think my memory is failing me already. Devestating.

A man with a British accent came in today & ordered a spicy grouper sandwich. When I worked on the coffee side he would come in and order a latte sometimes. Fantastic.

I listened to some Camera Obscura yesterday and really enjoyed it. Never heard them before, I don't think.
Is it possible to go and see The Swell Season when they come to Chicago? It very well might be. I want to be one of THOSE people. Those live show people. You know?
Do you ever have that? Sometimes I do. I want to be part of some club. Some live show club, or creative photography club. Or amazing artists club or eclectic dresser club. Or poetry reading and writing club or theater genius club. Festival going club. Wine drinking club. Knitting club.
Sometimes I do. Want to be in that club.
You know?

Anhow, that should be it for tonight. Post 100 is gargantan.
As it should be. 100 is a big number.

p.s. forgot to mention fantastic music makers club. those people who can pull songs out of their instruments like nuggets of gold. that would be a great club.

9.12.2009

ninety.nine.

Read a post that a friend wrote about growing older and such, plus Tai and I were talking about friends and family growing up and moving on. Then found this in my journal from a while back. I guess not much changes:
Why must we pull away?
Shove away?
Detangle ourselves like unraveling pieces of thread?
Tonight I am tired.
tired of change
& separation
& loneliness. 
I'm frightened to pull away from those I've grown with
Those I feel somewhat entwined with.
I'm tired of change,
of growing older & more weary
of carrying burdens too big.
I'm scared of those I love pulling away from those I love.
we're stretching at the seams
[what if soon one of us snaps off?]
Nights like tonight make me want to hold on to those good things I have.
Nights like tonight I pray for God to mend us fraying beings.

I teach theater on the weekends. The show that I'm doing now has a lot of newer kids, a lot of younger kids. At first I was kind of worried about it, that there wasn't necessarily as much experience. However, this is working out really well. It's good to see kids excited about theater again. A lot of the shows I've worked with, many of the kids have done theater for so long they take it for granted. But these younger or newer kids are excited about everything, not judgmental, ready to learn even if they are pretty rambunctious. Good to see, good to be a part of. At this point I'm not as worried about how the show turns out just because I know these kids are trying as hard as they can. I know later on I'll be stressing about what everything looks like, but for now it's just enough that we're all ready and excited to put it all together. They totally remind me of what it used to be like when I joined theater when I was 13. Everyone was a little awkward and new and excited.

Watching "Breakfast Club" for the first time. Wow, everyone is crazy. 

9.01.2009

ninety.eight.

A trip to the city, visiting friends.
Bonnie tells Amy & I that she hates the city, because she lives down there and she's tired of the atmosphere.
I know I could never live in the city, but I do love a good visit. 
I love feeling on the outside of it all, looking in. 
When I was younger I used to want to live in the city. 
I would be that lady, that intelligent, darkly witty, deep & self-absorbed woman. 
Dripping with style, but in an understated way.
I would be that lady that stares straight ahead on her way to vastly important museum exhibit openings, poetry readings & performances.
I used to kind of see that, kind of want that. 
I can see now that this is my selfish, introverted side. There are so many things more important, worth following after & holding onto. 
Walking back to the train, I tried to look up and see the sky
but buildings were too tall. 
Everyone is forced to stare at themselves in large glass windows
to stare at large, colorful advertisements
stare past everyone else
[heaven forbid you smile at the passing lady or glance at the homeless man].
It's better this way, better for me to have grown up small town. 
Bonnie says she tries to break the pattern down, smile at someone on the train, talk to random people like she found so easy to do on her road trip around and stops in hokey towns. We agreed it's a lot more about connection, not coldness. So much anxiety comes from that lifestyle, I think.
A good trip to the city, some good perspective and good chats in spite of our failure of a cafe stop.