“The laws of our land are catching up to the fundamental truth that millions of Americans hold in our hearts: when all Americans are treated as equal, no matter who they are or whom they love, we are all more free.”
-President Barack Obama
The Marathon
Alarm goes off.
Eyes open.
Tiny hope…but no.
Pain flickers on with the lights.
Dammit.
Only five seconds in,
But I already know exactly how this day is going to go.
Deep breath.
Shoulder the realities of my existence one more time.
Feel into my body:
Same burning forearms,
Same throbbing shoulders,
Same flaming knees,
Same song, verse #7098.
#$@!
Who set my skin on fire?
Clothes on body-necessary, but excruciating.
Nudge from a cold, wet cat nose
is enough to send me over the edge.
Grateful for my pain meds,
but relief comes with a price:
Slow mind,
heavy body,
can’t write,
can’t think,
can’t drive.
Stuck.
At.
Home.
Again.
So bored of my office.
So bored of that couch.
So bored of those books.
So bored of this computer.
So bored of those TV shows.
So bored of these medications.
So bored of that crack in the ceiling.
So bored of those beige walls.
I am boringly beige,
inside and out.
So tired of being in pain.
So tired of thinking about being in pain.
So tired of talking about how much I think about being in pain.
How many different ways can I say, “Hey-I hurt! And it really *$@ing sucks!
My normally fascinating inner world
is completely tapped out.
Now my interior landscape
is just as blah as my surroundings.
That’s the worst of all.
I’m too bored to be angry.
I’m too bored to be depressed.
(Do I even need to mention
how bored I am of being bored?)
I’m even too bored to swear.
People: that is some serious “bored”.
Some days I shuffle across the finish line and pass out.
Some days I run manic, just to shake things up a bit.
But mostly, I’m just so damn tired of living in this unresolved chord.
A Game By Any Other Name
Last weekend my parents came down to visit, and after dinner we decided to introduce them to a new game we’ve been playing this year. It’s called Dominion, and is one of those deck-building games where everyone starts off with like 7 coins and 3 pieces of property, and then has to figure out the best strategy for leveraging them into helpful action cards, more money, and more property.
My mom was really getting into it but I could tell my dad wasn’t so sure what he thought. Finally he said, “You know, I have to say that as an accountant, normally when you buy something you don’t then get to take back the money you used to make your purchase.”
We tried to explain things in a different way, to help give him a different perspective. “Just think of it as getting a really quick return on your investment,” offered my husband.
Mom and I chimed in with various other suggestions, but finally he said, “Or, we could just use the phrase we have for it in my profession, which would be ‘stealing’.”
I Would Have Thought This Went Without Saying
The other day I responded to a knock on my front door and found a woman from ADT (a home security company) on my doorstep.
I was already going to say no to whatever she was offering because I always say no to people who come to my door and ask me for things (unless they’re offering Thin Mints, of course, or are my neighbor showing off the new princess tutu she just made for her daughter), but then I was Extra-Bonus going to say no to her because the first words out of her mouth were, “Oh, do you get a lot of snakes right here?”, while pointing to a corner of my front porch.
Now I know there was no way she could have known that in the whole entire Universe, nothing frightens me more than snakes, but surely they must cover this kind of thing in Annoying Random Strangers At Home School. There must be some sort of handout or something, like, “Conversations That Lead To Sales: Do’s And Don’ts”, or, “Hey, Stupid-Head: Phobias Aren’t Funny!”
Maybe she was absent that day, because she followed that outstanding conversational opener with a little snake-related anecdote intended to help us bond. She apparently also missed the class on reading people’s body language, because she interpreted the look on my face as an invitation to keep talking. So since it was lost on her, and since I’m apparently feeling a little passive-aggressive today, I thought I’d share our conversation, along with all the subtext I’m sure you would’ve picked up on.
“Don’t worry, I’m not a salesperson,” she said with a bright smile.
(Attention all people who rush to reassure us that you’re not salespeople: saying that doesn’t make us feel better. We know it just means you’re going to ask us for something that will involve giving you money later, instead of giving you money now.)
“I’m here because of all the recent robberies in the area.”
(Forgive me if I feel that these most likely exist solely in the minds of your advertising department. Also, please. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to fall for your transparently manipulative scare tactics?)
“So my boss assigned me a 2-mile radius, and I need to find five homeowners who are willing to let me place a sign in their front yard.
(I refuse to put bumper stickers on my cars; not even the funny ones that feature cats. There’s no way in hell I’m letting you turn our front yard into a giant, living commercial, especially since you’re manufacturing this so-called threat.)
“That way,” she concluded earnestly, “when your neighbors hear about all the burglaries they’ll look around and see our signs, and then call to sign up for our service.”
(No, I will not help you profit from our imaginary pain.)
As much as I wanted to say these things out loud I chose not to, because she was just doing her job, and that was no reason for me to be mean. So I just smiled and said no thanks.
Although now that I think about it there was one thing I probably should have said, a bit of constructive criticism that might’ve helped her succeed at her next stop, and this of course would be,
“Lady: next time, don’t lead with reptiles!”
Life
The Difference Between Boys And Girls
You know how when you’re little, your parents make up cutesy names for your bodily parts and your bodily functions, and then you get married and realize that your spouse’s family did exactly the same thing, but with entirely different wrong names than the ones you use?
I was thinking about this today as I was cleaning out that crusty stuff that forms in the corner of your eyes sometimes, and how what in my family we called “sleepy dirt”? My husband insists is actually called “eye boogers”.
The Fathomless Mystery
Listen to your life. See it for the fathomless mystery that
it is. In the boredom and pain of it no less than in the
excitement and gladness: touch, taste, smell your way to the
holy and hidden heart of it because in the last analysis all
moments are key moments, and life itself is grace.
-Frederick Buechner
First World Problems
So last weekend Mr. Cranky Fibro Girl and I went to a golf tournament, and after walking a bit of the course we decided to find some seats in the stands.
We ended up at the 9th hole, and saw maybe the last twelve to fifteen twosomes come through. According to people who know, the greens were terrible that day, which I think was the reason that we also saw three or four people get whacked in the head, arm, and chest by golf balls veering tremendously off course.
With his tongue planted firmly in his cheek the guy next to me leaned over and said, “See-that’s just another way that rich, white males are privileged above the rest of us. Because when I hit a golf ball like that, there’s no human shield there for me; my balls just keep rolling all the way down the hill.”
Busted
“My only advantage as a reporter is that I am so physically small, so temperamentally unobtrusive, and so neurotically inarticulate that people tend to forget that my presence runs counter to their best interests.. And it always does. That is one last thing to remember: writers are always selling somebody out.”
-Joan Didion, Slouching Towards Bethlehem
Me Too!
