I push around the last two cheerios drifting in my bowl of milk, imagining them as two inner tubes floating on a clear blue sea. I’m sitting in one of them–my legs splayed lazily over the edge of the tube, the waves lapping at my toes. I’m calm. I can feel the heat of the sun on my body, but it doesn’t burn. I turn to look over at the other tube, but it’s empty. It’s just sitting there.
So I eat it.
Now there’s only 1 cheerio left in the bowl. I drop the bowl in the sink and let the cheerio float some more. My imaginary mini-me could use some more downtime floating in his ocean.
The words we use really do carry a lot of power, whether we realize it or not.
Last night, I was talking to a friend about how my aunt and my mom were conspiring to get me to meet this girl in Philadelphia. Her first reaction to the news was shock, “What? You definitely don’t need any help getting a girlfriend.” And then we continued discussing the matter.
But that little statement stuck with me. To her, it was probably a casual, nonchalant statement; she said it without any thought at all and she probably doesn’t even remember saying it. But to me, it meant a lot. Although it may not come across to everyone, I am still a very shy and self-conscious person and sometimes a little unsolicited affirmation from an external source is just what I need.
I wonder if I have made any comments in passing that have affected other people in similar ways. I really hope I have. And it is this simple fact–the raw power in a statement that is so honest that it is uttered without a second thought–that reaffirms my belief that one should always speak what they really believe.
The elevator doors opened. There were at least 7 of us waiting in the elevator bank, and all we did was stare. You see, we were waiting for the express elevator.
The empty elevator stared us right back, challenging us. Dare we tempt fate and risk taking the local elevator? A man and a woman nervously coughed and ambled on to the elevator. The monitor told us the express elevator was in its way down and would arrive shortly. The rest of us stood our ground. I kept my eyes glued to the status monitor as the local doors closed. The local elevator we just ignored was only going to one floor: the floor beneath mine. I should have gotten on. As we all shuffled on to the express elevator, I watched as the buttons of the 3 floors below mine all light up. So much for express.
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We were coming home from tailgating at Giants stadium and I had just filled up with cheap Jersey gas. As I pulled on to the Turnpike, I was offered a choice: Express or Local. I was trying to make it home for the closing ceremonies of the Olympics so I went with the “Express” lane. Big bloody mistake. As I sat in approximately an hour of traffic in the Express lane, I was kept awake by watching all the cars in the local lanes fly by.
I have come to the conclusion that “Express” is just a way to trick sheep into thinking they are taking a more proactive and efficient route in life. It’s all bullshit. From now on, I’m going local.
“Ever the pragmatist.”
As far as I know, those three words have never been used to describe me. I am not known for making the best choices in life. I often go for the immediate gratification and leave it up to fate. I am also a stubborn sunovabitch. This much I know.
But perhaps it’s time to make some changes. I’ve had something on my mind for almost a year now. It’s an awfully sticky situation but I can’t seem to give it up. The logical, realistic part of me tells me to just let it go. But I can’t, because that would be the smart thing to do; and we all know what Clarence does with smart things.
You know what? Fuck it. I’m going to continue being a lackadaisical fool and continue waiting this out. I’m pretty sure the expiration date of this situation has long past, but I’m going to stick around like an idiot and let it blow up in my face. ‘Cause that’s how I do.
The contents of my bag as at 11:20 AM, August 14, 2008:
- Today’s lunch: Mom’s stir-fried noodles, a pear and 2 bottles of Poland Spring.
- Watchmen by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons
- The August 2008 issue of GQ.
- Various papers in a manila folder
- A TI-30XA scientific calculator
- 2 Vials of Po Chai Pills/Balls
- 7 Pens, 1 Lead Pencil, 1 Mechanical Pencil, and 1 eraser
This morning we woke up to the sounds of thunder and heavy rain. For a normal Saturday afternoon this would have been cause to roll over and go back to sleep. However, this Saturday we’re in a rented beach house 10 minutes outside of Atlantic City. Looks like we’re going to have to spend the whole day winning money in the casinos instead of catching some rays and waves on the beach.
I thought it would be interesting to mention that I wrote that previous post in its entirety on my iPod Touch using stolen WiFi while sitting on a park bench in Tudor City.
Ain’t technology grand? :)
