Mar 10, 2017

9 Things Tonight

1. My thumbnail is too long. My forefinger keeps going back to that excessively long thumbnail, running over the edge of the nail, feeling the fingertip too far beneath, worrying its unfamiliarity like a tongue worries a canker sore or the flap of skin on the roof of your mouth from hot pizza cheese.

2. As a girl myself, I sometimes find girl friendships difficult. You never have to comment on a boy's haircut. There is no expectation of noticing a new top, a new lipstick colour, a new nail polish; no fall-out from the failure to notice these inconsequential things. We have to constantly tell each other how cute we are, how great, how worthwhile. (This emotional bolstering is perhaps our way of countering airbrushed magazine ads and gap-thighed supermodels. Still, I find it tiring.)

3. I would like to start composting. Make something useful out of decay. 

4. I turn the labels on the food in the fridge and pantry out and line everything up so I can see what I have at a glance. I like the tea towel to hang off the oven door handle just so. I alphabetize my books (by author's last name and then alphabetically by title unless it's a series, in which case, chronologically) and records (by first word in the artist's name, excluding "The" but counting "Thee" and then chronologically). I like things to always be kept near the place they are used. I hate dust. (I also hate dusting.) These traits remind me of Julia Roberts' psycho husband in that movie where she secretly takes swimming lessons and then pretends to drown in order to escape him but he finds her and she knows that he finds her because everything in her house is lined up just so. I wonder if I am a little bit psycho.   

5. I know I am only a little bit psycho because I just toss my pajamas into the bottom drawer without folding them and rarely make the bed and never iron anything.

6. Every single time I sit down to write something at night, without fail, the Supertramp lyrics "There are times, when all the world's asleep, the questions run too deep, for such a simple man" run through my head. I wish something cooler than Supertramp was my night-time writing muse. Sometimes I want to write something angry and visceral, but then this goddamn philosophical Supertramp song pops in there and adds its wistful, nostalgic air to whatever it is I'm writing. I fucking hate that. 

7. It would be an exaggeration to say that I almost died a few weeks ago during a routine surgery, but I did experience dangerous complications due to my body's rather alarming reaction to a certain substance used in the surgery. Intellectually, I am aware of the transience of life, but I have to admit that I can't fathom actually dying. This is why I walked through the murky, potentially-shark-and/or-crocodile-filled waters between sand bars in Costa Rica, why I think nothing of exceeding the speed limit on the 401, why I crossed the protective barrier and peered over the cliff edge into the Grand Canyon, why I ride my bicycle without a helmet. It only takes a moment to die.

8. I am not afraid of living. I am not afraid of taking chances and embracing opportunities, of being uncomfortable, of looking foolish, of being rejected, of admitting to not knowing. I want to know things and do things and go places. (And look at how fucking wistful and nostalgic and philosophical this has gotten. Thanks, Supertramp, you insidious asshole. Every goddamn time.)           

9. Well, the laundry is done and the night wears on and sleep beckons and dreams await. Also, I have to pee. Ah well, and riot on.