I am a single, child-like almost 30-year old night person. That makes me an enigma to so many people. The married people, for instance. How can anyone be happy being alone? For the record, I am almost never alone. The voices in my head keep me occupied most of the day. The grown-up people don't understand insane giggling at sharks riding bicycles. And the day people. They scare me. If God wanted us to be up during the day, He would have made it dark.
I am completely okay being un-normal. Normal people make me sad. Why not go live in Communist China if you want to fit in so much? That's part of what makes our country so great: We can do almost anything we want! Get whatever job, live wherever, sing for people at the ATM, make it look like aliens abducted a college student, you know, the usual stuff.
Most psychologists would have a problem with the word 'normal', but I think they are kidding themselves. There are cut and dried rules for society and I violate most of them. I think I amuse people and they keep me around for a short time, but then they go back to being normal and forget that I was there being weird.
People are not, by nature, solitary. Read The Stand and that might be made a little clearer. My brothers, for instance; I've never seen any of them - EVER - single. Ever. There might have been a short period between girlfriends or something, but they were always out looking for someone. When I say short period, I mean weeks, at the longest time, maybe, a few months. That's crazy to me. Why do people need this? I can barely be around people at work...and I work alone so I mean during 10-minute breaks when everyone gathers in the break room.
The reason I act like a kid is I still am one. I realized at a young age how miserable grown-ups seemed. Work, bills, family, responsibility, blah, blah, etc. I didn't want to become that. So I decided I would become an adult. I'd have the normal things, a place to live, a job, but I refused to become a grown-up. I still enjoy kids' movies (I do not require a child in the room to watch these), I spin in circles just to make myself dizzy, and blowing bubbles with soap and a stick with a circle on the end of it still fascinates me. Sue me, being a kid kicks ass. And I can say 'ass' and no one yells at me. And I almost never get grounded.
I have been a night person since I was, at best guess, negative nine months. Mom tells a hi-larious story about me letting some stranger in the house in the middle of the night. When I asked her why I was up, she said that I used to wander around at night. I remember night after night of laying in bed, trying every technique I'd ever heard of to fall asleep. Counting sheep. That didn't work because the sheep were so cute I kept laughing at their antics. The alphabet, forwards and backwards. Nothing worked. My sister tells me that I'm not a night person because, of course, there is no such thing (duh), despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Such as the fact that I sleep great during the day.
That kills me. Just because I am not like you - exactly - then I am either making it up, or just wrong.
I have a very extensive imagination. I use it every day and exercise it regularly, keeping it strong. Some people, my family as an example, don't have much imagination and therefore, just don't get it. They can't believe that I have a magical portal to another world in my closet. Mainly because I don't, but if I did, they would not believe it. They couldn't imagine that. I imagine it all the time. If only I knew the right door to open at the right time of day and the right frame of mind to be in as I opened it.
I do have a point and it is this: I am weird. If you are not weird, you are dumb. Fitting in is for generics and losers. I can understand a little. You don't want to be made fun of. You want to be liked. You need approval. Yea for you. I'm going to go watch a shark ride a tricycle and ultimately get crushed by an anvil because sharks aren't supposed to ride tricycles. If you don't understand, too bad.
05 October 2008
08 August 2008
The Dolphin Theory
Picture two people. Person 'A' is a successful business owner in a nice town, with a nice car, a nice house and a nice-looking wife. Person 'A' works long, hard hours keeping his employees happy, keeping the business going and then goes home to his wife and spends awhile making up for working long hours. He is a busy person, both with business affairs and playing golf, taking vacations with his wife and maybe having kids.
Person 'B' is living in a cramped apartment and works around 20 hours a week for a company that pays little over minimum wage. He is single, never takes vacations, and has no one but himself to answer to. He plays video games with people very much like himself, orders pizzas on a daily basis and never works out.
Which one is the better person? The goal-oriented, driven man? Or the lazy, going-nowhere man? You could say that you'd rather be person 'A' because that is more socially acceptable. People should be 'going somewhere' or to borrow a phrase from some random idiot I know, you shouldn't 'become stagnant'. But let's add a few things: Person 'A' ends up becoming so stressed out from lack of sleep and nagging from the wife that he kills his entire staff, his wife and himself in a fit of rage. Person 'B', however, is happy with who he is and doesn't need pretty surroundings, such as a green, landscaped lawn, to make other people like him. Maybe he meets someone who loves him for who he is and not what he can give her, or maybe not. He might never achieve financial prosperity, but he makes enough to support his video game habit. His lifestyle is so low-maintenance that he doesn't realize that he rarely ever spends more than half of his meager paycheck, and so will have a comfortable retirement.
Which one is better now? The one who makes more money and has 'things' or the happy one? Douglas Adams theorized that dolphins were the second smartest beings on Earth, coming in behind mice. Man has thought the same thing since the idea of intelligence was thought up by man - Man has achieved so much: large cities, the internet, fast-food restaurants, so aren't they the smartest? What have dolphins done? They swim around in the ocean, doing flips and generally have a good time. Who's smarter here? Humans, who have achieved so much or dolphins, who have way more fun?
If achieving 'success' means having things such as a new car every year, or a house so large you can fit other houses inside it, or lavish vacations every summer, or a job that requires you to work all the time (including during sleep) then that is what you should do. But if being happy is more important than the 'things' then go find it.
Dolphins haven't achieved much in the way of technology. They don't have a five day work schedule. They do flips and catch fish and are the only non-humans who have sex for pleasure. So who's smarter? Person 'A' or person 'B'? Or should we all wish we were dolphins?
Person 'B' is living in a cramped apartment and works around 20 hours a week for a company that pays little over minimum wage. He is single, never takes vacations, and has no one but himself to answer to. He plays video games with people very much like himself, orders pizzas on a daily basis and never works out.
Which one is the better person? The goal-oriented, driven man? Or the lazy, going-nowhere man? You could say that you'd rather be person 'A' because that is more socially acceptable. People should be 'going somewhere' or to borrow a phrase from some random idiot I know, you shouldn't 'become stagnant'. But let's add a few things: Person 'A' ends up becoming so stressed out from lack of sleep and nagging from the wife that he kills his entire staff, his wife and himself in a fit of rage. Person 'B', however, is happy with who he is and doesn't need pretty surroundings, such as a green, landscaped lawn, to make other people like him. Maybe he meets someone who loves him for who he is and not what he can give her, or maybe not. He might never achieve financial prosperity, but he makes enough to support his video game habit. His lifestyle is so low-maintenance that he doesn't realize that he rarely ever spends more than half of his meager paycheck, and so will have a comfortable retirement.
Which one is better now? The one who makes more money and has 'things' or the happy one? Douglas Adams theorized that dolphins were the second smartest beings on Earth, coming in behind mice. Man has thought the same thing since the idea of intelligence was thought up by man - Man has achieved so much: large cities, the internet, fast-food restaurants, so aren't they the smartest? What have dolphins done? They swim around in the ocean, doing flips and generally have a good time. Who's smarter here? Humans, who have achieved so much or dolphins, who have way more fun?
If achieving 'success' means having things such as a new car every year, or a house so large you can fit other houses inside it, or lavish vacations every summer, or a job that requires you to work all the time (including during sleep) then that is what you should do. But if being happy is more important than the 'things' then go find it.
Dolphins haven't achieved much in the way of technology. They don't have a five day work schedule. They do flips and catch fish and are the only non-humans who have sex for pleasure. So who's smarter? Person 'A' or person 'B'? Or should we all wish we were dolphins?
06 July 2008
Quantum Mechanics and the Waveform Theory of Radiation
Quantum anything is cool but that is not what this is about. This is about the evil people do when they judge things before they really know what it is. Such as books or people. (People are not "things", FYI)
A great many years ago (about 11), I was in a book store and found the greatest book cover. It was a normal-sized paperback - you know, before they started making them bigger for no discernible reason. On the cover of this simple white book, in the middle of a funky black border, was a cartoon cockroach...in a trench coat and fedora. Holding a machine gun. That is all kinds of awesome. I bought it and loved it. Sometimes judging a book by its cover actually works. Go figure.
This is normally not true. I hate most things that are overly sappy or girly, you know, flowers and jewelry, that kind of thing. So when I see a book that has prettiness on it or flowers or anything sentimental, I drop it like a too-hot Hot Pocket.
But one time, I was searching for a book by an author that I had read and really liked. I found it, discovered the cover was a porch scene with flowers and a watering can (ew) and put it right back on the shelf. I eventually (months later) bought the damn thing and, of course, loved it.
So, please, if you have any sense - and I don't so I don't have to listen to this crap - don't judge a book, or anything, by it's cover. You could lose a really good friend because of how they look, or not buy a great car because of its paint job, or not read a really great book...and that would be the biggest tragedy of all.
A great many years ago (about 11), I was in a book store and found the greatest book cover. It was a normal-sized paperback - you know, before they started making them bigger for no discernible reason. On the cover of this simple white book, in the middle of a funky black border, was a cartoon cockroach...in a trench coat and fedora. Holding a machine gun. That is all kinds of awesome. I bought it and loved it. Sometimes judging a book by its cover actually works. Go figure.
This is normally not true. I hate most things that are overly sappy or girly, you know, flowers and jewelry, that kind of thing. So when I see a book that has prettiness on it or flowers or anything sentimental, I drop it like a too-hot Hot Pocket.
But one time, I was searching for a book by an author that I had read and really liked. I found it, discovered the cover was a porch scene with flowers and a watering can (ew) and put it right back on the shelf. I eventually (months later) bought the damn thing and, of course, loved it.
So, please, if you have any sense - and I don't so I don't have to listen to this crap - don't judge a book, or anything, by it's cover. You could lose a really good friend because of how they look, or not buy a great car because of its paint job, or not read a really great book...and that would be the biggest tragedy of all.
19 June 2008
There's a Happy Bunny in all of us
Call it cynicism, negativity, pessimism. We all have at least a little of it. I have always been a glass half-full kind of girl, but sometimes certain situations make me think that the world really is on a rocket-ship course straight to hell.
My good friend, the Happy Bunny, sums it up: School prepares you for the real world, which also sucks. Sure, it's funny. But there's so much truth in that little statement. Most high-schoolers I know have the same response when I ask them how school is going: "Eh...it's okay, I guess." Translation: "Please kill me now." Okay, so maybe there's a few kids out there who can't wait to get up in the morning, eat a healthy, well-balanced meal, and skip off to the sacred halls of learning. Where they will sit in an overcrowded classroom, listen to an angry, bored teacher talk about the importance of being able to add, subtract and multiply fractions and finally get a lot of repetitive homework that will take them into the wee hours of the following morning. Woo hoo.
And then the real world hits them between the eyes. Step one: College. Same basic idea here. Let's all get up, go sit in a classroom with a bunch of other high school graduates, and learn stuff. Talk about my idea of a good time. Don't get me wrong here, I love to learn. I watch the discovery channel. After all the good cartoons are over.
Okay, so now we've learned enough, right? Excuse me for a moment, I've just laughed up my spleen. Got to put that back in...okay, now we can move on. Here's our next step out into the world where we can be productive members of society. Let's get a job! Of course, that's only if we don't want to go to school some more. Maybe get our Masters in Underwater Basket Weaving? No? Okay, but only if you're sure.
So, now we're on a job hunt. I guess I'll look in the want ads. Hmm, LPN. What's that? Lower Particle Nutrients? No, it must be Lever Power Nucleus. Okay, moving on. Here we go! They're hiring at Burger King! Yes! Sign me up.
And here I am, a college graduate, working at Burger King. Of course my supervisor is a 16-year-old high school student with me as an example of why not to go to college. I'm sure he laughed up his spleen when he heard I was starting. It's now the third day of work and I have dunked my supervisor's head in the fryer because he told me I was assembling the hamburgers incorrectly. My next stop, prison. And what a phony charge, too. Assault and battery, my ass. I'll assault and batterize them if they really want me to. I learned all about it in my Judo class in college.
Okay, so maybe BK isn't for me. What else is out there? Ah, here's an office assistant position. Yes, the people seem nice. Good work environment. Nice salary. I guess I'll give it a try. Oops! I accidentally stapled my boss's head to the wall for telling me to say, "One moment, please," instead of, "hold on for one second," for the nine-hundred, sixty-six thousand, two-hundred and forty-seventh time. Back to prison for me.
I guess work just isn't for me. What else can I do with my life? Hmm, there's always wandering vagrant. But then, I'm not into cardboard boxes and grocery carts. I could win the lottery. But I was banned from the 7-11 for yelling at the clerk for being out of Fiddle Faddle. Damn, what can I do?
I guess I'll go back to college, get more degrees, apply for a research grant and discover a way to keep a person's spleen inside their body when they laugh too hard.
Moral of the story: School prepares you for the real world, which also sucks. Happy Bunny was right.
My good friend, the Happy Bunny, sums it up: School prepares you for the real world, which also sucks. Sure, it's funny. But there's so much truth in that little statement. Most high-schoolers I know have the same response when I ask them how school is going: "Eh...it's okay, I guess." Translation: "Please kill me now." Okay, so maybe there's a few kids out there who can't wait to get up in the morning, eat a healthy, well-balanced meal, and skip off to the sacred halls of learning. Where they will sit in an overcrowded classroom, listen to an angry, bored teacher talk about the importance of being able to add, subtract and multiply fractions and finally get a lot of repetitive homework that will take them into the wee hours of the following morning. Woo hoo.
And then the real world hits them between the eyes. Step one: College. Same basic idea here. Let's all get up, go sit in a classroom with a bunch of other high school graduates, and learn stuff. Talk about my idea of a good time. Don't get me wrong here, I love to learn. I watch the discovery channel. After all the good cartoons are over.
Okay, so now we've learned enough, right? Excuse me for a moment, I've just laughed up my spleen. Got to put that back in...okay, now we can move on. Here's our next step out into the world where we can be productive members of society. Let's get a job! Of course, that's only if we don't want to go to school some more. Maybe get our Masters in Underwater Basket Weaving? No? Okay, but only if you're sure.
So, now we're on a job hunt. I guess I'll look in the want ads. Hmm, LPN. What's that? Lower Particle Nutrients? No, it must be Lever Power Nucleus. Okay, moving on. Here we go! They're hiring at Burger King! Yes! Sign me up.
And here I am, a college graduate, working at Burger King. Of course my supervisor is a 16-year-old high school student with me as an example of why not to go to college. I'm sure he laughed up his spleen when he heard I was starting. It's now the third day of work and I have dunked my supervisor's head in the fryer because he told me I was assembling the hamburgers incorrectly. My next stop, prison. And what a phony charge, too. Assault and battery, my ass. I'll assault and batterize them if they really want me to. I learned all about it in my Judo class in college.
Okay, so maybe BK isn't for me. What else is out there? Ah, here's an office assistant position. Yes, the people seem nice. Good work environment. Nice salary. I guess I'll give it a try. Oops! I accidentally stapled my boss's head to the wall for telling me to say, "One moment, please," instead of, "hold on for one second," for the nine-hundred, sixty-six thousand, two-hundred and forty-seventh time. Back to prison for me.
I guess work just isn't for me. What else can I do with my life? Hmm, there's always wandering vagrant. But then, I'm not into cardboard boxes and grocery carts. I could win the lottery. But I was banned from the 7-11 for yelling at the clerk for being out of Fiddle Faddle. Damn, what can I do?
I guess I'll go back to college, get more degrees, apply for a research grant and discover a way to keep a person's spleen inside their body when they laugh too hard.
Moral of the story: School prepares you for the real world, which also sucks. Happy Bunny was right.
My Future Restraining Order
There is a question creative people get all the time from less creative people: Where do you get your idea? Mine come from my muse, Jed. Jed is a great guy (most of the time). I love hanging out with Jed. I go to dinner with Jed, I watch movies with Jed, I force Jed to stay up way past his bedtime talking about exactly why the movie Clock Stoppers is total crap.
The first few years I knew Jed, I had no idea he was my muse. I went to watch movies with Jed and it was a lot of fun (Jed's a fun guy). I'd leave thinking about something I'd like to write. Then, one July day, I was in Jed's presence and a story idea hit me in the back of the head so hard it hurt. It took me two years to write it all down and during that entire time, I was still in the dark about why the idea came to me when it did.
And then, I was near Jed again, and again, BAM! Story idea, this time right between the eyes. Made my eyes water a little. Time after time, I would go see Jed and walk away flooded with ideas and the feeling of intense creative vibes swimming around me. When I finally did notice that Jed was the cause of all of this, I named him my muse and he's been disgusted with me ever since.
The point of this is, it doesn't matter what or who inspires you, or if that who gets a little mad that you follow them around with a pad of paper in your hands. It matters that you find it, or him or her, and continue to follow him or her around even after they have filed a restraining order against you. And, damn it, after you post bail, follow them from a legal distance.
Here's tip: Write stuff down. I have a little notebook for each project I'm working on. If I get an idea specific to that project, I write it in that notebook. I also have a book for random ideas. So, every time I think some inane thing that I'd like to remember, I write it down. And then I can go back and read it and remember the things that I had thought before. It's a novel concept and I'd be lost without it. Seriously, I would never remember a thing. My name is written in that book. Okay, that's not true. My name is on the back of my hand. Have to have that handy. Get it? Hand-y?
So, thank you, Jed. For all the great inspirationalness you give me, even if you don't mean to. Even if you actively try to stifle my creativity. Thanks anyway. And thanks for not filing the restraining order. Yet.
The first few years I knew Jed, I had no idea he was my muse. I went to watch movies with Jed and it was a lot of fun (Jed's a fun guy). I'd leave thinking about something I'd like to write. Then, one July day, I was in Jed's presence and a story idea hit me in the back of the head so hard it hurt. It took me two years to write it all down and during that entire time, I was still in the dark about why the idea came to me when it did.
And then, I was near Jed again, and again, BAM! Story idea, this time right between the eyes. Made my eyes water a little. Time after time, I would go see Jed and walk away flooded with ideas and the feeling of intense creative vibes swimming around me. When I finally did notice that Jed was the cause of all of this, I named him my muse and he's been disgusted with me ever since.
The point of this is, it doesn't matter what or who inspires you, or if that who gets a little mad that you follow them around with a pad of paper in your hands. It matters that you find it, or him or her, and continue to follow him or her around even after they have filed a restraining order against you. And, damn it, after you post bail, follow them from a legal distance.
Here's tip: Write stuff down. I have a little notebook for each project I'm working on. If I get an idea specific to that project, I write it in that notebook. I also have a book for random ideas. So, every time I think some inane thing that I'd like to remember, I write it down. And then I can go back and read it and remember the things that I had thought before. It's a novel concept and I'd be lost without it. Seriously, I would never remember a thing. My name is written in that book. Okay, that's not true. My name is on the back of my hand. Have to have that handy. Get it? Hand-y?
So, thank you, Jed. For all the great inspirationalness you give me, even if you don't mean to. Even if you actively try to stifle my creativity. Thanks anyway. And thanks for not filing the restraining order. Yet.
18 June 2008
An Introduction to Insanity
I'm not crazy. Ask anyone. I've been kicked out of therapy for being too normal. Seriously. I have.
I'm a writer. I've never been paid to write. It's not what I do...it's what I am. Does that sound too pretentious? It's okay if it does.
I love stick figures and Anime and stupid TV shows and horrible movies and kitties (NOT kitty figurines for those paying attention) and Stephen Lynch and most cuss words and my mom and dad and human physiology and sugar cookies and sleeping a lot and Nacho Cheese Doritos and seven card stud and gay guys and my best friends Jed and Mandie and Saturday Night Live and books about vampires and chain smoking even though it's not cool any more.
I hate health food and most social situations and most people and cold weather and plants that require water and dogs that require attention all the time and loud children in restaurants (and everywhere else) and soprano saxophones and suicide "victims" and roommates and over-protective siblings and everything to do with getting up in the morning.
See? Not crazy.
I'm a writer. I've never been paid to write. It's not what I do...it's what I am. Does that sound too pretentious? It's okay if it does.
I love stick figures and Anime and stupid TV shows and horrible movies and kitties (NOT kitty figurines for those paying attention) and Stephen Lynch and most cuss words and my mom and dad and human physiology and sugar cookies and sleeping a lot and Nacho Cheese Doritos and seven card stud and gay guys and my best friends Jed and Mandie and Saturday Night Live and books about vampires and chain smoking even though it's not cool any more.
I hate health food and most social situations and most people and cold weather and plants that require water and dogs that require attention all the time and loud children in restaurants (and everywhere else) and soprano saxophones and suicide "victims" and roommates and over-protective siblings and everything to do with getting up in the morning.
See? Not crazy.
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