our Little secret

I'm trying not to judge. I'm trying to be open-minded. I'm trying to find common ground.

But gosh-dang-it, some people are so stupid!

I don't know why it aggravates me so much. It really shouldn't. What do I care if someone is shallow, simple-minded, and content to find life fulfillment in the superficial and transitory? What difference does it make to me?
It just bothers me. It eats away at my brain. I'm boggled by frustration.
This is the reason I choose to stay at home, away from people, sitting on my floor in lamplight, drawing a still life in charcoal while listening to the extended version of The Fellowship of the Ring - Design Team commentary.

I'm sure, to certain eyes, my life looks just as simple, shallow, and even transitory as some lives do to me. We're all at different stages of life, different stages of development, some are little further ahead while some are a little behind. And no matter how much progress you make, there is always further to go, more to do. I understand that I am not yet where I could be, not yet who I could be. But I'm working to get there, I'm working to become. I can't possibly be the only who wants to become more than I am now, who sees the potential to grow, learn, and evolve. I can't be the only one who sees the potential to increase the depth of our lives, the scope of our vision, to expand our understanding of our world, of each other, of ourselves.

Perhaps I'll start another blog in which I can more freely rant about this problem. Here I only feel comfortable giving generalities; I yearn to pour out the specifics. It would have to be an anonymous blog because, as much as I hate to confess it, stupid people, unbeknownst to me, may very well be reading my blog. (even if there were stupid people who stumbled upon my posts, i don't think i could keep their attention for long. i don't talk nearly enough about my nails or my hair or Twilight or how expensive my television screen/car/wardrobe is to hold the interest of an IQ below 65.) So to be on the safe side, to avoid hurting the feelings of people I might know out there in the real world, the blog would have to be anonymous.

I think I will call it "People Are Stupid." Or "This is Why I Hate People (in general)" or "Feverish Rantings of a Hermit" or "Hermit is My Lifestyle Preference and This is Why." It'll probably show up on Typepad or Wordpress. Keep an eye out for it.

But if you should happen find it, remember it's anonymous. So, shhhhh!!

Don't even Act Like you've Never wondered

Word Origin & History

OK

 1839, only survivor of a slang fad in Boston and New York c.1838-9 for abbreviations of common phrases with deliberate, jocular misspellings (cf. K.G. for "no go," as if spelled "know go"); in this case, "oll korrect." 

Further popularized by use as an election slogan by the O.K. Club, New York boosters of Democratic president Martin Van Buren's 1840 re-election bid, in allusion to his nickname Old Kinderhook, from his birth in the N.Y. village of Kinderhook. Van Buren lost, the word stuck, in part because it filled a need for a quick way to write an approval on a document, bill, etc. 

The noun is first attested 1841; the verb 1888. Spelled out as "okeh," 1919, by Woodrow Wilson, on assumption that it represented Choctaw okeh "it is so" (a theory which lacks historical documentation); this was ousted quickly by "okay" after the appearance of that form in 1929. Okey-doke is student slang first attested 1932. 

 

(from dictionary.com)

Is that not the coolest thing ever? Thank you, dictionary.com, I love you forever.

not To Be morbid and Creepifying Or anything

I went to sleep last night at 8:30 p.m. I was reading and my eyes refused to stay open, to focus, and so I condescended to their demands and let them close.
I forced myself awake at 10:45 p.m. to stop myself from dreaming. It was an uncomfortable dream. Extremely so. And we're going to leave it at that.

I couldn't get back to sleep after that. It gets harder and harder to sleep alone as time goes on. I closed my eyes and let scenarios play themselves out in my mind. I replayed them, changed them, wondered at them.

Two men in uniforms coming to my apartment door and telling me that he is MIA, a POW, being tortured, that he died in the line of action. First, my jaw drops and I stare past them in disbelief. Replay: I sob; I fall to the floor and wail; I pound the ground until my fists are bruised and swollen. Again: I am at my parent's house, they are with me, and I crumple to the floor, curl into the fetal position and moan in anguish. No one can comfort me. No one tries.

I opened my eyes to find real tears on my pillow. I recognized that my subconscious was telling me that I miss him.
Feel free to tell me something I don't know. Tell me something I have power to change.
Hours went by in this manner. It was 4:30 a.m. when sleep overtook my mind and dragged me down to its depths.

My husband is in the National Air Guard. He hasn't received orders to go to Basic Training, yet. But it's only a matter of time. I know it's coming.
Part of me looks forward to it: this holds the promise of a career and opportunities that could not be open to us in any other way.
Another part of me recognizes that, however improbable, the on-going war that our country insists on waging could claim his life. That's years down the road...but still...it's there. Highly unlikely. Vastly improbable. Not even worth the worry, really.

Sunday afternoons I see her sitting a few pews ahead of us. She has to wrestle two rambunctious young children into their seats and implore them to speak in low reverent voices. Every Sunday she does it alone. Her husband died a few months ago. She's maybe five years older than I am.
I admire her. Pity her. Fear her, a little bit. I see the future possibility of myself where she sits. In truth, I'm only a thread's breadth from being that same young widow.

Truly, death hovers a thread's breadth away from all of us at any given moment.

I'm not sure how I would move forward from something like that.

I see the futility in worrying. I can't change anything. For all I know, I'm destined to go first by getting hit in traffic, making him the young widower. It matters not. I'm not going to lose sleep over the infinite sad possibilities of my life. It was just late at night, and I'm alone, and that's where my mind wandered to.

Still. It's always a little scary when the facade drops and Death reveals just how near it's always lingering.

brownie points to anyone who recognizes the phrase "morbid and creepifying" from the post title. I'll give you some context:
"See, morbid and creepifying I got no problem with. 'Long as she does it quiet like."

even The lovely stillness Can Grow dreary

I would write more if things changed more.

The summer is reaching a point of stagnation. Not an entirely unpleasant sensation, but it grows wearisome after a time.
Maybe this is why I push myself so hard during the school year: to fight off stagnation. (that would explain a lot) I think I just learned something about myself. Not that it solves anything, but it feels good to have understanding.

I colored my hair on Monday, with my cousin, for the first time in our lives. I'm enjoying the change. A trifling matter to some, but it makes all the difference to me. I needed some kind of change. After all the simple monotony of every day life - doing dishes, cleaning up after myself, reading, working, sleeping - the monotony of everyone's lives, it's good to have a small change.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy my few hours of solitude.
It's quite possible that I'm falling into unhealthy patterns of isolation again, and that could be the reason for the stagnate nature of the past few days (or weeks, who knows?), but I can't help myself. I crave the seclusion. Maybe I love it, maybe that's who I am, or maybe it has to do with comfort... I'll socialize when I'm at work. Until then, I will bask in the slow, even pace of my solitary meandering.

rambling Rambling ramble On And on

I did my dishes yesterday after being sick for over a week. In the course of said week I allowed leftover bits of food to rot and congeal in the bottom of my sink. Not a pleasant smell.

Afterward I went into my living room and laid down on my back, on my floor, and listened to Regina Spektor ask me over and over,
"If I kissed you where it's sore,
would you feel better? Better? Better?
Would you feel anything at all?"

My husband comes home Saturday afternoons and leaves again for work Sunday evenings. It's only for the summer. No big deal.
I miss him more every week.

Loneliness is part of mortality. I don't like hearing other people complain about it. I don't like suffering from it. I've just gotta get myself busy with something. Distracted. Preoccupied. Busy.

I'm stuck between feeling sore and not feeling anything at all.

I'm in No Condition to drive...but I'm Going to anyway

After the initial shock of my sister announcing her elopement, and some internal freaking out (as well as some external repercussions), I think I'm ready to say...that...I'm okay.

Yeah.

I'm okay with it.

I find it hard to trust the judgments of an 18 year old, hormonal and irrational as we all know they are, but she really is a good kid. I don't think I would call her and her soon-to-be husband "wise" but to their credit, they're at least being thoughtful about their decisions. They're presentation of those choices is flippant, at best, but I've been assured that they're actions are not.

She and I have grown apart in the last year. I hadn't been paying attention. I don't really know her now. If she were still the girl that I knew, that I thought she was, then the situation would be different. Much to my surprise, though, she's not that person anymore.

She'll get married, she and her husband will move to another town, go to college together. It'll be a long time before I see her again. In that time she'll change even more.
How strange.

I got married, moved to another town, am going to school with my husband...I guess I've changed, too. I don't feel like I've changed, but you can't really gauge things like that. Not in yourself.

I have to go buy Nyquil now. I feel dizzy and the letters keep moving around on the screen. Makes it hard to read. Especially when they go in and out of focus like that.

Probably shouldn't be driving....but it's less than a block away, what's the worst that could happen? This is what happens when you leave sick people home alone to take care of themselves. Just steer clear of any silver cougars you see on the roads in the next hour or so, and we should be fine.