America The Beautiful

It’s sad that in a country that boasts so much leniency and freedoms, the likes of which should make foreign countries green with envy, how unaccomodating we are in real life.  Conceptually, we say that we are democratic, diplomatic and bureaucratic.  We love to tell everyone we know that thanks to events such as the Suffragist and Equal Rights Movements and propelled by American Activism backed by The Constitution, labor union strikes and protest rallies, that everything’s cool.  Well, duh, it’s not.

But it is in the small day-to-day stuff that I still marvel at how inside-the-box we still are.  Our lean toward mega-conservativism.  I mean, we dress the same and look the same…hello, Communism!  We fight, lie, cheat and steal to get our grubby hands on the Almighty Dollar…hello, Capitalism!  But we preach a good deal about our ability to give everyone inalienable rights to do what they please as long as they are lawful in the eyes of an unlawful government.  Hello?!  Does anybody realize that we’re drowning in our own bullshit? 

Name Changing:

Pre-Renaissance and Victorian Era ideologies still reign supreme everytime I see a woman named Geraldine shorten and re-invent herself as “Jerry” in order to gain respect from her peers.  When your Asian worker, Xin must become, “Jim” or your friend with the weird name comes out with an easier-to-pronounce Americanized version.  Then there is the loss of any indicator of heritage: Umbobwe becomes, “Bob” and Rosa Rosario takes on her husband’s last name, adopting a less obvious seemingly “American” name.  For American Indians who have eternally suffered thanks to the knowledgable English ready to take advantage of simple-folk, Heather Littlefeather becomes plain old, Heather Little. Sad.

The Law’s Not on Your Side:

In the Wild West days, you could go to your Sheriff and report someone doing wrong and he’d have the accused jailed, assuming that the person a) admitted to what he / she had done or b) was pointed out by the town gossip.  No lengthy trials.  Just good old justice.  Now, people make false claims and cops who made all of these oaths to serve and protect are left wondering why they’d opted for a badge instead of some other nobler profession.  They get inundated and bitter and “cop” (pardon the pun) a lot of attitude.  My Dad was on the force for over twenty years and he can tell ya that it’s real difficult to stay true to your original code of ethics when you’ve visited the same rotten apples of the neighborhood time and time again.  What really burned him was how much labor went into putting someone behind bars only to watch them go within an hour of posting bail.  Nevermind the networks of swindlers, losers, addicts and cons who help aid their troubled friends and outweigh the scales of justice to their favor.  Some officers learn that if you can’t beat ‘em, you join them.  Those dirty cops hardly ever get caught thanks to a wall of blue and criminals in high places working off old favors.  Then, there is the BIG GREEN, rearing its ugly head.  The temptation to issue parking tickets in municipalities working hard to maintain excruciatingly unrealistic budgets.  The corrupt officials who like lining their pockets with tax dollars while serving their communities, hungry for vindication.  Even in big, public scandals where white-collar crimes are identified, no one ever asks for the money back to return to the little guy.  Never.  And any cars and expensive homes almost always are kept, turned over to close friends and relatives for a dollar or purchased in someone else’s name.  Those don’t go back either.  So you tell me, does crime pay?  You bet.  Especially in starving states like New Jersey where every mayor has a hand in on some scam, potential scandal, or FBI investigation.  Just check the histories of towns like Union City, Bayonne, Jersey City.  Go ahead, I dare you…

I’m Like You, You’re Like Me: 

In a time when global unity is most necessary and UN meetings a regular occurence, it still seems that our exclusivity and politics is burying everyone’s unique qualities, replacing it with a softer, popular form that denies what makes everyone distinctive in the first place.  And did I mention America’s goal to throw McDonald’s and malls on every corner or the planet?!  Don’t get me started…

Look No Futher Than Our Own Backyard:

While Angelina Jolie is a UN Ambassador for Africa, there are children being raped, hurt, malnourished in some foster home somewhere.  I can’t help but think that all of this foreign aid is misdirected.  New Orleans suffered immensely due to broken levies which could have been avoided.  Florida residents were displaced because of hurricanes which not only damage, but eat away at the shoreline.  Affirmative Action doesn’t work.  The Health Care system in this country doesn’t work.  The Welfare system doesn’t work.  The INS system doesn’t work.  Hello, the “terrorists” are already living among us.  Cells and cells of ‘em that no one thought to keep track of. Der! People are cheating insurance companies, driving cars that are expelling carbon-dioxide into the air, and gas and oil prices are making it awful hard to get around.  So why in the heck are we sending troops to Iraq?  Why are we so concerned with feeding starving children in foreign countries whose governments owe so much money that our national deficit is as high as it’s ever been?  Why are rich Americans like Johnny Depp and Michael Jackson and Madonna and Kate Moss and others all fleeing to other more “liberal” countries?  Why is France and England and the Swiss Alps or whatever so great?  Huh?  Traders.  I hope they pay a killing in foreign taxes. 

That Song Is So Obsolete:

Oh beautiful for spacious skies (Yeah, right.  Filled with CO2 and a damaged ozone layer)

For amber waves of grain (Oh, I’m sorry, we’re killing off our farmland and importing goods we used to grow)

For purple mountains, majesties (But thanks to global warming those snow-capped mountains may go away)

Above the fruited plain (Ahem, farmland dying?)

America, America God shed His (your?) grace on thee (Can’t use the term, “God” anymore.  The conservatives will kill you…oh, and the feminists will have your hide for making God a male.)

And crown thy good with brotherhood (You betta not be referring to the monarchy in England…God save the Brotherhood?)

From sea to shining sea (Not if the polar icecaps keep melting…try “From tsunami to tsunami”…)

Well, keep on rocking in the free world.  For what it’s worth.  See you at Armageddon! (That’s Judgement Day to you Christians).

What We Say vs. What We Mean

I use euphemisms all the time.  If I make a major mistake or am unsuccessful at doing something I yell at the top of my lungs, “FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!”  This phrase replaces any expletives I had in mind and opts for the G-rated version.  For me, it works because I find myself more and more ridiculous as time goes on.  So it alleviates the feeling of guilt attached and makes me laugh at my silliness.  Nothing is ever that bad.  Nothing.

I had actually thought about writing this post for a long time.  I was waiting for a time when I was creatively fresh out of ideas of posts to put on my blog.  Well, the time has come as I am empty on what I want to write about.   

Euphemisms are in my blood:

I don’t like hurting anyone’s feelings and can’t quite understand people who don’t get the “don’t-bug-me-I’m-busy” vibe that I give off from time to time.  I value my alone-time as most writers do.  You can often spot me contemplating life and observing life around me.  I have to always be in that meditative space in order to be creative.  Non-writers see this as an open opportunity to tell me about various events in their lives or comings and goings that may be prevalent and interesting in their minds, but come off as self-indulgent or rude.  I run the risk of investing so much of my personal contemplative time  to giving others advice and opinions, that I lose track of time and my commitments.  I want to be giving, but timing is key.  So if you really want to know what I feel about your new ideas or family issues that need sorting out post-haste, don’t approach me at my lunch hour or when I’m silently reading a novel on the train…just don’t okay?  I’m not charging for my services and it ruins my happiness to devote all of my free time to you.  Every one of us at one time or another has felt the impending doom at the approach of a colleague, say, or a next-door neighbor. You know, the chatty one with nothing but time on his / her hands? It’s not that we don’t want to listen, it’s just that their needs aren’t always as pressing as they initially let on.  Most people just want a sounding-board, a person who they can get feedback from, or push their responsibilities onto.  I am not that person.  So, shove off, matey.  Puh-lease.

I Love You, but I Must Leave You:

It is therefore, given what I’ve just written, to easily pass judgement on me.  I seem a little to standoffish.  I keep to myself.  I’m an enigma, or worse, a snob.  Think what you will, but if your stories and tales of woe are draining me like a vampire, I gotta turn you loose.  Friendships may die, but at least I won’t resent you.  Let’s just say we called it quits before it developed into a disaster with me feeling as though I’ve given too much of my precious time listening to you rattle on and on about your ex-boyfriend  and how much you’re so over him.  Face it, if he’s still the topic of your conversation, you’re probably bitter that you’ve been burned.  But if he asks you to take him back, you would.  I know.  Believe me.

So I gathered up some of the common thoughts that run through my mind when I am saying something to be polite and thinking something totally different.  This isn’t a post to suggest that everyone start telling the God’s honest truth all the time because that’s an impossibility.  It is also non-pc and very selfish to spout your opinions with reckless abandon.  That magic only works when you’re a kid and incapable of letting people down gently.  It is an acquired skill, after all.  Anyone who says that they don’t lie ever is a liar.  We all do a little lying so as not to hurt people or ruin their lives.  There are subtle nuances to human beings and their feelings.  You have to be aware of that.  So go ahead and think all you want.  Just be mindful that it isn’t okay to “spew negativity”.  It’s fun, but it isn’t okay.

Here are some examples that you probably have done yourself or experienced firsthand from someone else.  Enjoy!

What We Say:   “That person’s laugh is so contagious.”                                            

What We Mean: “I hate her witchy cackle, I wish she’d choke on her own spit.” 

What We Say: “Oh, what a cute baby!”                                                                   

What We Mean: “Get that drooling, spittle-ridden snot-nose brat away from my Gucci purse!” 

What We Say:  “Omigosh, your child’s getting so big…”                                            

What We Mean: “You’re kid’s as big as a house…you should stop feeding that poor child Mickey D sandwiches and french fries!” 

What We Say: “That Armani suit makes you ten years younger.  Go ahead, girl!”        

What We Mean: “You old battleaxe!  Oil of Old Age got you by the cackles and ain’t letting go so you best stop trying to dress up the ugly.  I got one word for you: BOTOX!”  

What We Say: “Of course I’m not too busy for you…”                                              

What We Mean: “I was so looking forward to Calgon taking me away from you.”

What We Say: ”I’m so sorry you broke up with your boyfriend…”

What We Mean: “Thank God that sexy piece of chuletas is finally free!  Now let me see if I can score a date!”

What We Say (when someone steps on our foot): ”That’s okay.”

What We Mean: “Thank you for ruining my pedicure!”

What We Say: ”You look great…are you working out?”

What We Mean: “…your mouth? Weight Watchers better watch you!”

What We Say: “That was a bad fall.  Are you okay?”                                                

What We Mean: “That’s what you get for trying to be Naomi Campbell and work it in Manolo Blahnik stiletto heels!”

Well, that’s all that I got. Just for fun, think of a couple of your own and pass it on…Remember, don’t be mean-spirited.  Okay, you can be a little mean.  Go on…

Let It Rain…

 
Bayonne Car Stuck,
originally uploaded by Mema13.

This gives new meaning to the term: “Water under the bridge.” And it was among two other pics I took when I stepped off of the lightrail yesterday and saw this…The only good thing was that it didn’t consist of sewer water or anything, so it wasn’t really clean water, but it wasn’t all smelly with random rats floating in it or anything. I, like some other brave souls, decided I would just throw caution to the wind and deal with the elements. I am a nature-girl after all. What was that old high-school English teacher’s motto–? “Mud-luscious and puddle wonderful” a quote from Henry David Thoreau? I think it’s Thoreau. Anyway, I walked through soaking the bottoms of my pants and feeling the water getting sucked in through the soles of my shoes. Soon, they were making that annoying squishy sound. Squish, Squish. Yuck. But it’s so funny how everybody who encountered this scene behaved like they’d never seen water like this before. Basically, it went like this:

A herd of women passed with their umbrellas in tow saying, “Oh, it’s so bad over here. Isn’t it bad? I don’t think I’ve ever seen this before. Never in a million years. Well ladies, see ya tomorrow…be safe.”

I laughed at them and at myself fumbling to take an award-winning photograph to be featured in the Star Ledger and I even went so far as to send it to the photo desk. They probably laughed at my naivete, but I was just all amped and excited at seeing water this high. I bet some folks in New Orleans were probably laughing out loud at me. But there was flooding everywhere which makes me think that maybe if Israel wants to get back at us Americans, all they would have to do is ask Allah for a favor to rain down holy rains from Heaven. That, or start sending nuclear bombs into the atmosphere and destroy us with global warming, thanks to all of that CO2 needed to propel the bombs. Then again, that would probably prove detrimental to themselves as well because, hello, GLOBAL warming?! I know. I’m paranoid. But I can’t help but believe that it doesn’t matter.

I mean, nothing really matters except watching people when they’re happy, when they smile and laugh. Feeling someone’s good spirits and sensing when they’re about to fall apart and realizing that you can help those things. You can actually just be there and that could matter more than cheering the person up. A weird symbiosis that your presence commands that makes things completely alright. Even when it isn’t. So even though I had gotten clobbered when I left my job with a downpour and had to wade through shin-high water and looked like a sopping wet mop by the time I was done, I had this mini-revelation. It wasn’t just optimism. It was clarity.
So go ahead and splish-splash through the rainy weekend. Enjoy it and…Let It Rain.

“Courage and Faith, Miss Honeychurch. Courage and Faith.”

I don’t always know what I’m talking about.  I talk out of my ass sometimes.  These words escape my lips and then I’ll reconsider and wonder why I even said what I said.  Have you ever lost your train of thought while in the middle of a sentence?  I do it often.  Like right now when I just wrote that I thought about the silent ‘t’ in the word, “often”. Then within that thought I thought, Dad never could pronounce the word the way it’s pronounced.  He never ackowledged the silent ‘t’.  That thought was followed with another one: Phonetically, how is that written?  How does it look in Webster’s Dictionary? (pron. off-en) And then, isn’t the pronunciation which includes the hard ‘t’ sound still acceptable in the English language?

You see?  I just can’t help myself.  I was designed to go on multi-layered tangents.  It seems like an inherited trait from my Dad.  We used to have a sort of joke amongst ourselves (immediate family only) that my Dad could start a story, be completely distracted from it, only to finish it off, like, an HOUR later.  Seriously.  I’m not even kidding about that.

So if that were an inherited trait, think of all the other meaningless and benign traits I managed to inherit…yet another tangent.  I’m so multi-layered. 

1. Sticking out my tongue when working on something hard - I’ve asked my mom about this and apparently, my grandfather, her Dad, does this too.  I’ve tried to catch myself doing it, but have never really noticed it much.  Now that I’m aware, though, I probably will.
2. Holding a mug - Yup, my Dad.  He holds a mug in the weirdest way: The thumb gets placed entirely over the lip of the mug while his other fingers grasp the handle. I know.  Annoying, isn’t it?
3. My Face Says It All - My mom is notorious for wearing what she really thinks about those fishnet stockings and hot-pink pants.  You can’t escape the look.  Ever.  Sometimes I wish I weren’t so transparent, but I am.  I can’t even help it. 
4. Raised Eyebrow- Dad again.  We familials always lovingly called it, “The Fisheye”.  Dad probably got it from hearing criminals tell tall tales.  See that?  Alliteration.
5. Changing my tone and manner of speech to match the person I’m talking to - Mom has this uncanny ability to have total strangers trust her within seconds of meeting her.  It’s all in mom’s first impressions.  She, without effort, simply adopts their mannerisms, their manner of speaking, and their movements.  It isn’t calculated, pretentious or insulting.  She unconsciously adopts these to make the person she’s addressing feel comfortable.

Well, those are the only ones I can think of at the moment.  I’m sure some other ones will come up as I’m doing ordinary things like sweeping the hallway or washing dishes.  Sometimes when doing the menial tasks of the day-to-day my mind is relaxed enough to notice these things.  Sets my mind to wandering.

Why did I name this post “Courage and Faith…”?  Well, before I pounded off a 5-step life affirming entry about human traits that I’ve inherited, I was really pondering the quote from “A Room With A View”.  But since I’m a true threader, I took off with the list first.  But imagine this, ok?  Life made up the two opposing sides: Courage which sets aside fears to achieve or succeed at something you hold dear, and Faith which allows the higher power to maneuvre every aspect of your waking life.  The latter, of course, leaves nothing to chance or a turn of fate.  No sir.  It is either a pre-determined existence or we have the free will to make independent decisions within the confines of what this higher power sets in our path.  For the most part, I like the concept that it sometimes takes Courage to have Faith and vice versa.  I like that little interweaving of two ideas.  But let’s just look at this closely in the Mema-verse, since everything is ALWAYS ABOUT ME. 

Right.

In my world, I am faithful to a lot of things.  I believe in a higher power.  Call it God or Buddha or Shiva or an alien named, Fred.  It doesn’t matter because this entity in my eyes is incorruptible, omnipotent, and the guardian of all things.  I don’t always look to my Roman Catholic historical past to get to that conclusion.  I look at things that I’ve personally experienced, seen, or felt to arrive to this conclusion.  That being said, I do not believe that this Being is infallible.  I’d like to believe that a Creator would have made human beings to be most like him or her.  Or both or none, for that matter.  Something familiar.  Something pleasing.  Something fashioned just like themselves. Think about it.  Would you want to associate with a bunch of strangers that don’t speak or look like you?  I don’t think so.  I sense, or I feel the presence of something greater than I am all the time.  Something inside of me knows it’s there.  Something also knows that something else had to have made me.  Something limits my memory until I’m old enough to understand them.  How come no one can remember birth canal trips and baby-crib mobiles?  We aren’t meant to understand those experiences of infant life, so we just learn, absorb and grow until we can actually remember.  Do this as an experiment: trace your life as far back as you can go.  You’ll scarcely be able to remember your life before the age of say, two.  Even though the most impressionable years occur before then, they’re not enough to retain in your memory because these are shared conscious experiences.  Everyone was burped as a baby, fed, bathed.  At least children who were cared for properly.  So those “experiences” get removed from memory because, hell.  Do you really want to maintain a record of all that baby crap?  Exactly.

Now for the courage.  I had to inherit the courage to say what I needed to say when I needed to say it.  This one is often a learned response.  If we receive negative stimuli from an early age, we feel less inclined to bravery.  If we receive positive feedback early in our stages of development, we feel more confident about expressing ourselves.  Take little Mema.  I gained courage as I stumbled on the road of life.  There were times I wanted to throw in the towel for various problems and life-affecting issues.  Some I overcame and some I didn’t.  One can be faithful without being courageous.  But can one be satisfied to the fullest extent of what life has to offer?  I don’t think so.  At least not in America.  Without courage, we wimp out and suffer for our own inability to come out with the truthfulness of our lives.  If we aren’t truthful with ourselves, then how fulfilled can we truly be?

I don’t know about you, but if I am on my way to the Pearly Gates, I don’t want to show my face unless one or two or both of these ideals are met.  I hope that when I’m being judged, I’m good enough to meet the necessary requirements. Guess all I need is in that one line: “Courage and Faith, Miss Honeychurch.  Courage and Faith.”

Bayonne vs. Jersey City: Part Deux

Announcer - Welcome back, folks. Boy are you missing a heck of a fight between Bayonne and Jersey–whoa! And another right hook by “The Brawler”…looks like JC better dance for his life ’cause Bayonne’s packing a wallop! But what’s this? Looks like both men are just holding in the ring. This match was originally scheduled for 9 rounds, but it looks as though both men are tired and there’s still no real winner. Let’s turn to longtime boxer, Rocky Montana, with his official scorecard tally…take it away…

Rocky - This was a battle that was in the making ever since these two towns were born. I’m telling ya that there is nothing like skin on skin to see who will win!

Announcer - That’s right, Rocky. Now, Rock, how are you judging this match?

Rocky - Well, it’s a hard thing to judge because both men are determined to win.

Announcer (interrupting) - Of course–

Rocky - I’d say that right now, I show the fight as 110 and 110 an even fight. Both men are exhibiting heart, skill, speed and raw drive. Anyone watching could see that everytime that JC throws a punch, it is quickly answered by Bayonne. But it’s no secret that both of these men are professionals and it’s looking–at least to me–to be a strong tie.

Announcer - Did you hear that folks? I can’t believe it! What started as a war of worlds, appears to have become a war of words! Let’s get a mike in the ring…

Bayonne - Brother, you don’t know how long I’ve held my tongue…

Jersey City - Can you give the people what they want? Huh?

Bayonne - What have you got to boast? Your nasty town is littered and filthy.

Jersey City - …And yours is full of white collar crime and political corruption…

Bayonne - That’s not what your momma told me last night.

Jersey City - Well at least my mom cleaned up after herself. That’s more than I can say for your mom…

Bayonne - Hey, oh! You don’t know her like dat…sorry, ma.

Jersey City - Did you hear him momma Bayonne? Your son finally admitted that he’s “sorry”. It’s about time.

Announcer - The referree has been speaking to the ringside judges and he’s getting ready to make an announcement…let’s listen…

Referree - Ladies and gentlemen, this fight is a DRAW!

*The crowd boos*

Announcer - Well, there you have it. The crowd is none too happy. It seems that this issue won’t be resolved today. Apparently both towns have shown that they can withstand the trial: they came, they saw, they both came out even-steven. Thanks for watching…Good Night.

Bayonne vs. Jersey City:

The Battle for a state of Independence…

Annoncer - Welcome everyone to the battle for the title of King of the Garden State.
Well this post has been a long time coming. A resident of the latter and now writing to you from the former, it is going to be a rough and tumble fight for the right to Paaaarrrtttaaayyyyyy!!!!

*ding, ding*

Announcer - In this corner, wearing red trunks and weighing in at an astounding 225 pounds: the home of The Brawler, the Captain of the Cons, the Maven of the Mafia…Bayonne, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!!!

*crowd cheers*

Announcer - And in this corner, the underdog in this fight, sporting the blue trunks and weighing in at just over 170 pounds soaking-wet: the Streetwise Soprano, the Deadly Dukes of Danger, a trip down Nathan Lane’s memory…Jersey City, NEW JERSEY!!!!!!!!

*crowd cheers again*

*ding, ding*

Now, everyone give a Jersey welcome (hold your spit, please) to Referree, Skip Stone!!!!

*everyone boos*

Skip - Now, I want a good clean fight. Any excessive holding or hitting below the belt is cause for disqualification. I want you to heed my instructions at all times. Gentleman, tap gloves and good luck!

*Bayonne & JC tap politely*

*ding, ding, ding*

Announcer - Two heavyweights in the tough inner-city, I’ll tell ya. It’s important to note that these two towns are like brothers from two different mothers. Close in proximity but–oh, nelly!–are they different in their ways of life! What better day than today, while the nation celebrates their Independence than to brawl for it all? Now it’s been said that Jersey City is the bastard child and that Bayonne is full of itself, but only one champion will come out alive. Who will win? Who will suffer defeat and cry all the way home to mother?! Let’s watch…

*ding, ding*

Announcer - And it begins, folks…Why just the other day I was speaking to JC and here’s what he said about this fight…

*clip begins*

Announcer (interviewing) - You and your brother have always had a friendly war of words for years. Why take the sibling rivalry so far?

JC - Because I always felt like I was my brother’s keeper. I don’t feel dat way no more. All our lives, we had disagreements about manners and such. But etiquette was never my forte. Normally, I got into the ring and did my thing, y’know what I mean? Now, it’s like I gotta teach my kid brutha a lesson…one he’ll never forget.

Announcer - So what was it about Independence Day?

JC - I don’t mean to brag, but I always felt that it was betta to burn fireworks on the 4th of July than to get drunk at a barbecue. It’s just like my brutha ta misunderstan’ da nature o’ the day, y’know?

*end of clip*

Announcer - There you have it, folks. A bitter feud that maybe started in utero. But I also had the opportunity to speak to Bayonne, who oddly enough didn’t have much to say…

*clip begins*

Announcer - Your brother had a lot to say about this fight. Is there anything that you would like to tell him?

Bayonne - No.

Announcer - JC said that he felt as though he were, and I quote: “my brother’s keeper”. Do you have anything to say about that?

Bayonne (looking annoyed) - No.

Announcer - Is there anything you would like to say to the public now that you’ve agreed to meet your brother this July 4th in the “Battle for Independence”?

*Bayonne pauses*

*silence*

Announcer - …A man of few words.

Bayonne (shooting up in his chair) - I don’t need no words. I’m all action. See ya in da ring, bro.

*clip ends*

Announcer - And it looks as though our fighters are ready to duke it out and settle the score. Bayonne has been cocky all week, snubbing all reporters and avoiding any type of publicity while Jersey City has made it on every sport’s cover all month long. It’s time to find out whether it was all worth it. Oh, both fighters appear to be dancing around the ring but it’s Bayonne who throws the first punch…a light right jab and…oh, what a quick left by JC, but Bayonne is stable. JC is a fighter who’s light on his feet and has been known to dance around his opponents before…oh! Another left hook from JC but Bayonne isn’t shaken. He appears to be determined to ruin his brother and…what’s this? The post has grown long?!

The artiFACTS of Life

Sometimes, when you’re rummaging through your old drawers and memory boxes, you come across the stupidest things that are on the one hand are completely ridiculous, but on the other, they’re so much fun. Being the Queen of nostalgia, I seldom like to throw little notes and gems like the example you see to my left here…

Yes, this one was created in high school when me and an old art buddy drudged up a sheet of white copy paper and had at the principal. The more we stared at the artist’s rendition, the more creative we got, which seems odd since we weren’t really all that creative in class. So it goes to show you that talent and ingenuity are truly the siblings of boredom which seems to have been (judging from the other little things I found) a lot.

There’s just something to be said about keeping memories. The more that time lags on, it seems that events get lost; recalled only when you least expect it. Perhaps there is an old view that constantly gets tossed around and becomes the subject of many a debate in later years, like say, who won a race or who did what during a sport tournament. When you save a souvenir, you encapsulize that moment forever. If you’re lucky, it can spin itself into a tradition that can linger way longer than the actual memory. It can morph into “legend” status; the stuff that is discussed and remininsced about long after you’ve gone. That’s what endures and that’s what’s so great about history. Think I’m wrong? Well, don’t people still celebrate The Civil War by dressing up in Union and Confederate regalia to host mock reenactments? Of course they do. Collectors love this stuff because it gives them an opportunity to put a price tag on something that would have normally gone the way of the Dodo, the forgotten annals of societies that pre-date history and into extinction. People love the stuff because it helps them take pride in their pasts marveling at how far we’ve come while dismissing other advancements.

If you’ve ever said any of the following, then I’m sorry to say, you are a nostalgist (like me~yea!):

• “They just don’t make ‘em like they used to.”
• “They used to be cheaper.”
• “I remember when…”
• “Doctors used to make house calls.”
• “When I was your age…”

These are just a few that I could think of off the top of my head. So go ahead and rummage through your attics, raid your storage spaces, and look through your yearbooks. I’m sure that you can find a few surprises in there that will put a smile on your face or make you laugh out loud ~ in spite of yourself. Eh, Tootie?

The Strangest Dream:

Okay, do you wanna know the strangest dream I had? A while ago, I was doing this experimental Freudian thing where I would jot down a dream I’d just had using a scratch-pad beside my bed. Freud believed that dreams were best captured when they were the most vivid so the idea was to desribe the dream immediately after I’d awaken from it, before it dissipated into some subconscious part of the brain where all unmemorable dreams go and cannot be retrieved. Well, I had a dream a long time ago and scrawled it on three slips of white paper in the dark. I’ve just re-discovered it while I was cleaning my room and voila! The Strangest Dream. Here’s what I wrote:

“It’s been mine since I was a lad,” the Adventurer tells me, while opening a very small crawlspace in the desert. ‘How’d you find that,’ I think but a voiceover tells me that he’s known this place all his life. The Adventurer grew up there. There’s water and a plug to open. Suddenly, there’s a studio audience and a dance floor and Tom Cruise with a turkey up his ass is there. There’s a nice man whom I meet amid the crowd surrounding Cruise. Everyone seems to be chanting, “He’s gay! He’s gay!” at Cruise and I’m embarrassed for him. The nice man I met now begins to dance with me only the dance floor is more like a gymnasium now. We’re dancing really well and just then, we’re gonna go through a tunnel–”

That’s it. I really like the Tom Cruise turkey scenario. Very entertaining. But I have no idea what any of this means. Was the Freudian experiment successful or should I stop finding stupid slips of paper in my room? You decide.

Today’s Topic is TRUST:

(Also See “Abuse of”)
Ok, kiddies, it’s time to open your books to page 101, because everyone could use a little insight these days when it comes to the “T” word.

Is T**st a Curseword?:
No. However, people and their manipulative ways can’t seem to gather up the good these days. Usually the world-wide skepticism has a lot to do with being burned. Take it from the “Burn Queen” (hi! that’s me!), it is a place that hits way too close to home. But the optimist in me just can’t seem to get away from believing that there still is enough good out there to wipe out the grossness of this world and kill ‘em all with kindness. But what do you do when you feel that you’ve been betrayed by say, a restaurant? I mean, it’s not a person that you can zero in on and wish horrible things to. Nope, it’s this intangible thing. This entity if you will. What to do then?

I’m A Hypocrite:
I’m the first to speak to people about standing up for themselves. But for some reason, when it comes to me, I get all loosey-goosey. I don’t want to make waves or cause a fuss or draw any attention. So, I get screwed. This time it had to do with an establishment that I’ve been going to since the dawn of time. Any local yokel knows exactly the place I’m speaking of because of it’s generally good-naturedness and overall Cheers-like attitude: remember, everybody knows your name? Well, this place has seen its share of woe and legal troubles but has always gotten the community vote thanks to some local politicians and well-to-do customers. I used to love going there because hey, it felt like family. Well, I should’ve known that no one can screw you over better than family. No one.
So I went to have a simple sandwich. If you must know, it was a turkey club. Sometimes I get all nostagic for the old classics and it began as a hunger, then a hankering, then a “I-must-have-it-or die!” lunchtime obsession that I’m prone to every now and again. So I moseyed (sp?) on down there and lo and behold, the whole gang was there as before. Oh sure, the place is physically the same, but the faces are more painted than I remember and the hair’s new and improved. Whatever, I just wanted my sandwich.

I was greeted with a “Hello, Mema! Long time no see…” attitude which sometimes makes me feel like the celebrity I wish I was. Ah, Ms. Lohan, lemme show you to the best seat in the house… The one waitress even hands me a copy of the New York Post to read while I waited. Nice touch. Within a few short miraculous minutes, I was once again eating what I love. I relished in the taste that reminded me of lunches at college when all I could afford was the cheapest things in life. Yeah, cheap. But just as I finished the last remaining morsels, the waitress conveniently slipped the check underneath my plate. It was, as usual, a flawless performance — so subtle a move as could be missed. But when I turned the slip of paper over, I couldn’t help but notice the unbelievable price of what I’d just eaten: $8! Now, I know that somewhere this amount is not a staggering blow. Someplace where the turkey is home-grown and bred just to be the Thanksgiving feast or the prized upscale meal at a decadent eatery in Midtown. I could expect the price of such delectable meals. You get what you pay for, after all. But if you saw this meager portion of a sandwich which had all of the telltale signs of a fast-food meal, you’d understand my complete discontent. Then, I realized what I was really paying for.

A few years back, I was a regular customer. I was probably a lot more self-absorbed and eager to spread my earnings, proud to be an American girl who could eat meals all by herself alone in a restaurant. I was single. I was young. Money was simpler and I was just happy to spend whatever I made on all sorts of frivolous things like nailpolish and various shades of lipstick. But a few years afterwards, I fell out of favor with the waitresses because they’d stop seeing me as frequently. Then there was an unfortunate incident involving my new boyfriend and his dissatisfaction with platter which *gasp* they were asked to take back and re-do. Now in all the years I’d gone there, I barely muttered any unpleasant words and never challenged them when they got my order wrong or came with a plate of food that was not so hot. I’d been taught not to behave “rudely” which meant keeping my mouth shut even when I was unhappy about service or displeased with attitudes. I accepted and even sprinkled a little sugar on it to make it sweet, even when it wasn’t. Then. here comes Carlos in all his wonderful brutal honesty. He taught me that you don’t have to always reach for what you’re given. You can return it and complain and the customer is always right…even at the risk of having people spit in your food. So I believe with all my being that this one instance was the turning point, because since then, I don’t like going to that restaurant. Not only have the prices changed, but the overall mood just isn’t the way it used to be. Or, maybe it is still the way it used to be and I just never noticed it before.

Trust Your Instincts:
It is a tired cliche, but people do change and I’ve learned that my instincts could never steer me wrong. That’s why I wrote this post. I think that if you listen to that little voice inside, you can’t go wrong. Don’t just eat it, serve it back…with relish.

Let It Go, Rearrange, and Never Burn Bridges:

 
Well, it’s that time of year when everyone is having their yard sales, throwing away old junk and basically cleaning house. So I figured…WHY NOT JOIN ‘EM?! That’s right. I’m having a yard sale on Saturday and it’s gonna be great! Now if only I could just stop Carlos from bringing more stuff…