Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Bill, the Darkness, My Laptop, and Booze. A Collection of Traits I Think You Should Know.

Once upon a time there was this cockroach. For the sake of the story, we will call him Bill. One day Bill moved into a new home. My home. And on one fateful evening, Bill found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Which was, incidentally, on my kitchen counter in the p.m. I had no choice - the cockroach must perish! WHAP! My fly swatter brutally wacked the cockroach, but just once. Bill couldn't have seen it coming. Then, as I studied my results, I was overwhelmed with guilt and sorrow. Poor little Bill was still alive, struggling to walk, battered but not defeated.  And I am ashamed to admit it but here it is anyway - I started to cry. That's right, you heard me. I cried. I had to put the poor Bill out of his misery. The misery that I had inflicted. The moral of this story is; never name any insect whose life you are about to end. Because a name in itself gives the bug a personality, and a personality is painful to destroy.

I can't walk through my house when it's all dark. I have a night light in my bathroom, and if I could sleep with a light without it driving me nuts, I'd probably have one in my room, too. I systematically use lights to 'keep myself safe' when I'm heading from the livingroom to my room, but only if I'm the last one up. As long as someone else is awake, I'm fine. I have the kitchen light on, then I go to my bathroom and turn that light on, and then on to my room. Then I head back to the living room, cell phone lit up (for some extra light, of course!) and switch off that light, then look over my shoulder the entire (short) walk to my bathroom, where I flip off that light and pull the door to, and then hurry to my room, checking the hall behind me before I close the door. And even then, I turn on my overhead light, then the light on my nightstand, THEN I turn off my overhead light, crawl into bed, make sure my phone is lit up before I turn off my nightstand light, and then get comfy all in the time it takes for my cell phone to dim and lock itself. Yes, I'm an absolute chicken. No doubt about it.

I love keychains. I have like...six keychains...and only one key. It's an addiction. At the very least, I should get more keys so that all of the keychains make a little more sense. 

I almost always trip when I wear shoes that are too big for me...Probably partly because I drag my feet, a bad habit that I can't seem to break myself of. Oh, and yes - I wear shoes that are too big for me sometimes. Hey, it happens! Also, I love Uggs. And that's just the way it is.

I didn't have my first beer until I was 20 years old. Which I still am. So really, I didn't have my first beer until...late last year? Yeah, I'm a good freakin' kid. :)

I collect cell phones. Right now, I have...seven? Eight? Something like that. Regardless of the fact that I rarely switch them out anymore...since I got my dream phone for Christmas... ^_^
Even still, I don't like to get rid of my old phones. For some reason I feel validated by having so many. Maybe I just like to keep my options open. Or maybe I'm a pack rat. Who's to say? All I know is I keep them in a drawer and I've only ever sold one, and that was because I was (and still am) in WAY over my head with the whole credit-card-debt thing. Let's just say I don't "act my wage," as one of my favorite radio personalities would say. And boy-oh-boy would he be disappointed if he knew of my shameful financial behavior...

Anything and everything that Apple puts out I will love without question. I am completely 100% sold on any product that they put out and I will always use Macs. I've used them for my entire life and I've always loved it. In my house alone there are at least five Macs, I would quite possibly die without my iPod, and I am desperately in love with my iPhone. I wish there was an Apple store closer to me so that I could seek employment there, share my love for Macs with the world. It always tickles me when I have my PowerBook with me at, oh, let's say Starbucks, and people stop and ask me if I like my computer. My response? How could I not!? Yes, I am a die-hard Apple FanGirl. I speak the truth.

I have a terrible memory and one of the reasons I like to blog/journal/take photos/etc. is because I'm afraid that I won't remember something that I wanted to.

I have never eaten a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Ever.

I'm frighteningly UN-self sufficient. I don't know how to do laundry, or a load of dishes, or cook... Were I to live on my own right now, I surely would perish within the first week.

4 comments:

Mary Malcolm said...

You. Um...crack me up. *lol*

I do the same thing with the lights. Room to room. I make sure the next room light is on before I turn off the light in the current one. The only difference is that I have no cell phone to ease me to bed. But, my bedside lamp has a cord, and I make sure I'm all snuggled in before I pull the cord close to my face and click the light off.

And I've cried over killing bugs before too. Even the ones I haven't named. Let's just call it latent Buddhist guilt. Somewhere in my mind I always wonder if I might have cut someone's reincarnated life short.

And I feel guilty every night I don't walk my dog too. He's just so sweet, and I always feel like I'm letting him down.

So. With all that said, you crack me up and I feel as if we're somehow related.

By the way, are you and Heather still going to make it to the meeting this Saturday? Let me know so we can plan a place to meet ahead of time.

Mary Malcolm said...

One more question. Do you see strange tools on your blog when you look at it? 'Cause I see them on mine, but I don't know if other people see them too. Just curious.

Sarah said...

Haha! I'm glad! :) I like to consider myself somewhat entertaining.

I'm happy to learn I'm not the only person who has issues with the dark or with the brutal murder of innocent insects. (Unless they're all up in my bedsheets or something -THEN I considering it self defense. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.)
Although I hadn't thought about reincarnation! My goodness! How do I know I haven't killed a relative?! HOW DO I KNOW?!

;)

I wish I had walked Cowboy more. We used to take him on walks a lot, though, and I think he enjoyed them less when he got tired faster so maybe he didn't miss it TOO much...

I, too, feel some sore of bond between us! Maybe it's the sticking-together-to-overcome-obstacles thing, or maybe it's the love of dogs.

I need to double check with Heather because I think she'd be the one driving us to you, but I'd really like to go. :) Is there a fee or anything? Also, what's the best way to contact you to let you know? Feel free to respond to that via my email --

sugarspielberg@gmail.com

You know...in case you don't want anyone who reads this to have your email address or something. ;)

Oh, and yes! I see tools as well. The ones that let you edit your post and such if you click on them? I don't you see them unless you're logged in. I'm not quite sure. It's rather baffling!

Mary Malcolm said...

One more thing...your story about Bill reminds me a lot of Charles Bukowski's poem, "2 Flies"

Ahem...

The flies are angry bits of
life;
why are they so angry?
it seems they want more,
it seems almost as if they
are angry
that they are flies;
it is not my fault;
I sit in the room
with them
and they taunt me
with their agony;
it is as if they were
loose chunks of soul
left out of somewhere;
I try to read a paper
but they will not let me
be;
one seems to go in half-circles
high along the wall,
throwing a miserable sound
upon my head;
the other one, the smaller one
stays near and teases my hand,
saying nothing,
rising, dropping
crawling near;
what god puts these
lost things upon me?
other men suffer dictates of
empire, tragic love...
I suffer
insects...
I wave at the little one
which only seems to revive
his impulse to challenge:
he circles swifter,
nearer, even making
a fly-sound,
and one above
catching a sense of the new
whirling, he too, in excitement,
speeds his flight,
drops down suddenly
in a cuff of noise
and they join
in circling my hand,
strumming the base
of the lampshade
until some man-thing
in me
will take no more
unholiness
and I strike
with the rolled-up paper--
missing!--
striking,
striking,
they break in discord,
some message lost between them,
and I get the big one
first, and he kicks on his back
flicking his legs
like an angry whore,
and I come down again
with my paper club
and he is a smear
of fly-ugliness;
the little one circles high
now, quiet and swift,
almost invisible;
he does not come near
my hand again;
he is tamed and
inaccessible; I leave
him be, he leaves me
be;
the paper, of course,
is ruined;
something has happened,
something has soiled my
day,
sometimes it does not
take a man
or a woman,
only something alive;
I sit and watch
the small one;
we are woven together
in the air
and the living;
it is late
for both of us.

(taken from Play the Piano Drunk Like a Percussion Instrument Until the Fingers Begin to Bleed a Bit: Black Sparrow Press, 1986)