I don’t want to live in a world where someone doesn’t invent cat mittens or broccoli-flavored chocolate. Enough with the conventional, as if we all enjoy the same level of normalcy. Without the zany, my life would be miserable. And stop arguing about the ‘best’ foods. There’s no such thing. We are all individuals and taste is wildly subjective, as is taste in hair, purses, clothing, cars, furniture, music, and lovers.
Can we instead talk about the things and people each of us loves, in our own way, and the people that light us up?
And while we’re at it, buy each other some cat mittens.
Living seriously is something that we can all agree is for the birds, the kind that swoops down and releases upon our heads.
I will start with a bit of humor for a friend, who will appreciate the inside joke: “My boss told me to start every presentation with a joke. The first slide was my paycheck.”
I went to the Dollar Tree to buy my demanding cat Güino specific cat treats. I ended up helping two Latina ladies with their questions. My bright orange shirt and hospital name tag evidently identified me as an employee. Because I was playing the part of an exemplary employee, I told them to go to Hobby Lobby too, as they were searching for decoration ideas that weren’t going to take all their cash. I used an index card to draw them a diagram of where to find what I was recommending. They were very happy. I’m definitely in the running for employee of the month. And people tell me speaking Spanish isn’t useful. 🙂 Hobby Lobby should write me a check too, as I am certain that once the two ladies go into the store, they are going to get a lot more ideas than they entered with.
At checkout, I saw that the woman in front of me had to leave a few items on the register rail because she didn’t have enough money. I bought them and handed her the bag of her items when I went outside. The look on her face was priceless. “It’s just $5, ma’am. You’d do the same for me if you could.” Covid be damned because she hugged me unexpectedly. “Is it too early to say ‘Merry Xmas?’ I asked her. “No, this gesture is a good start.”
I went over to Garland to use the ATM. A man was standing near the out lot of the parking lot, his driver’s door open. “Can you help me push this a few feet?” he asked as I pulled up and got out to help him. I told him that I couldn’t because I’d had surgery a couple of months ago. About that time, another man stopped and he helped push it several feet into a parking spot. “I can give you a ride to wherever you want to go, as long as you’re not wanting to go to Nebraska. I hate that place.” He laughed. I moved my bags from the front and he got into my car. As we pulled out onto Garland, his cellphone rang. His wife had listened to his voicemail and was on the way to pick him up. “No worries, I said. I can take you home or drop you back at your truck.” He thought about it as I turned right at the light to double back around. “It’s my brother’s truck but yeah, I’ll wait for my wife.” I dropped him back at the parking lot.
Driving down Sycamore, I must have sensed the oncoming yellow car was going to ignore the traffic signal. As I stopped and waited to turn, the car sped through the red light. I honked. The driver proudly waved high with a single finger as he sped away. I could tell that man would live a long, short life. 🙂
When I got home, I opened the fresh bag of cat treats and proudly laid several on the kitchen floor. My cat Güino sniffed them and then walked away. I’m pretty sure he was saying “Kiss my butt” in cat language in the way only a cat can. To prove I am at least smarter than him, I scooped them and put them back into the bag. After he was doing losing his mind with a Looney Loops doo-dad, I put them back down and he ate them like he hadn’t seen food in sixty-two days. The picture shows two of the Looney Loops at his feet.
Afterward, I made 14 servings of protein drinks. After doing it the hard way for a couple of weeks, I bought a cheap blender. Then, I realized I could make a lot more by using a gallon jug and shaking it like a pair of dice at a Las Vegas craps table. It’s good exercise, too, especially when the lid comes off and sprays thick protein drink all over the kitchen. Yes, I did that. I still love eating the powder dry, too. It gives me teeth that thick pie dough look that people find so attractive.
I still have my bedroom in my living room. No couch. Just my red rocking chair. Two big-screen televisions, one of which I sometimes use to stream my window camera view to. The other, to mostly ignore as I play the news. Four cat beds, one cat. One bed, one human. I spend more time vacuuming and sweeping the floor than I do watching tv, thanks to my beloved litter-scatterer.
I’m considering becoming the first-ever minimalist hoarder., but as Steven Wright says, “You can’t have everything–where would you put it?”
Anyway, I hope your day is full of wonder and also a jar of loose, vengeful spiders.
Güino is becoming adept at tricking me. Yesterday, he bolted from the apartment and ran full-speed down the landing to be near the feeders. I’m running flamboyantly ( ) because the video doesn’t start until after I’ve tried hooking the fleeing cat with my foot. It looks like I’m prancing to unseen music. I don’t mind looking stupid; it’s a part of who I am. If you knew how many times this year I’ve kept my promise to say, “I don’t know,” or “I don’t understand,” you’d laugh. Prancing is fun and doing so in this apartment simplex is about the least weird thing you’ll see in five minutes of careful observation.
The math picture I made is of Güino; it accurately reflects the mental machinations he’s undoubtedly doing when he sees or hears the door open. Cat 15, Human 0.
“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” Sylvia Plath. I wrote one of the best jokes of my life to accompany this quote, but due to the nature of her death, I can’t risk demonstrating how tone-deaf I am.
I’m infamous for carrying index cards everywhere. To jot down thoughts, draw/doodle, note reminders, pranks, or actual important messages.
I’ve always known that messages on index cards carry weight, but recently I’ve been practicing and refining my delivery. It’s led to some hilarious and amusing results: most people just believe whatever you’re reading from an index card, even if I’m looking at a blank card or one that has nothing to do with whatever I’m saying.
Psychologically, if it appears you’re reading something off an index card, people will be more gullible about its alleged contents. It’s evocative of the Uniform Effect.
You can use this to your advantage, whether it is to make up a fake phone message, statistic, reminder, or important information.
Just telling them somehow lessens the credibility compared to “reading” it from an index card. People don’t just write crazy stuff on index cards, do they?
Love, X
“I’m writing my book in fifth person, so every sentence starts out with: “I heard from this guy who told somebody …” Demetri Martin
“It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realize just how much you love them.” Agatha Christie
I posted this picture because it is one of the best ridiculous pictures of me I have. Coffee, happiness, love, youth: a recipe for the perfect life. I still have a great life and great people in it.
No, I’m not afraid of brain-eating zombies. For some reason, every year they ignore me and increasingly so as I get older. It’s a good lesson that there are benefits to failing to apply the lessons I’ve learned. I get to use the joke every year that if brain-eating zombies do invade, I’m going to run into a conference room full of middle managers. Zombies instinctively know that there aren’t any functioning brains in such a room.
“If you can’t beat them, arrange to have them beaten.” —George Carlin
“During the day, I don’t believe in ghosts. At night, I’m a little more open-minded.” – Anonymous. The same is true for the tricks my mind plays on me when I get anxious. As the night falls and the hour grows quiet, my mind stretches and starts its gymnastics. Being creative sometimes has its drawbacks, as it allows me to take a minor concern and let it blow like those billowing air devices at car washes. Last night, I took melatonin which previously had little effect on me. It brought strange dreams, one of which brought an infinite loop of the “Kiss From a Rose – Jesus Loves Marijuana” from the tv show “Community.” I woke up still hearing the song in my head. It’s a fitting song for the last day of October.
After waiting a bit too long, I went to the doctor Friday (finally!) and started taking 1/2 doses of Lexapro. Many months ago, the clinic told me to come in if I really needed to; when I did, my doctor was at another clinic and the other doctors deferred due to it being anxiety-related rather than a medical need. That’s when I immediately reached out for counseling. It bothered me a great deal that they’d turned me away when I was honest and said I needed to be seen. So few people just come right out and say so. I’ve watched so many people fail to be honest about what’s going on in their heads and lives; most choose alternate forms of self-medication.
I don’t want to sound ungrateful. I have insurance. Surgeons saved my life six weeks ago. I’ve lasted 16+ years in my job and I appreciate it in a way that I didn’t up until a year ago. This last year has been five years long. I’ve had so many great experiences despite the bad ones. There are some exceptional people in my life, some of whom were hiding in plain sight. They didn’t change and suddenly become open; I did.
My doctor didn’t really hesitate to prescribe me something less powerful, especially due to the fact that I’m seeing a counselor and seem to be very aware of how my body and mind react. He might not have thought so before my crazy weight loss journey and exuberant confidence about other areas of my life. Apart from all the other issues I’ve had with the clinic, the doctor told me again he had never seen a person just SAY they were going to be thin and just do it without any structured program or surgery. He told me to remember that it is an accomplishment worthy of maintenance. And that he fully expected my anxiety to be temporary. His certainty was a welcome addition to my medical visit. I joked that since medical bills were a part of my cyclical worry, that I appreciated his pro bono treatment. He laughed. For a brief second, I thought of Leslie Nielsen in “Airplane!” when he said, “You can tell me, I’m a doctor.”
You know that the doctor thinks you’re going to live a while longer when they agree to bill you. That’s optimism in action.
Due to my cousin’s advice, I refrained from hiding behind the door to scare the doctor this time, even though it’s Halloween. I wanted to take my stylish brown sheet and ‘ghost’ him, so to speak. Instead of leaning away from the truth, I told the doctor that I thought he might not appreciate the level of my anxiety if he based it on how much I LOVE a good laugh and how I interact with his staff. He told me that he learned a long time ago that people’s internal issues rarely intersect evenly with their personalities. I told him my feedback loop theory and he nodded. To make him laugh, I told him Ronnie Shake’s hilarious quote: “My doctor gave me two weeks to live. I hope they’re in August.” To his credit, the doctor did burst out laughing.
Walgreens committed another in a long line of unexpected and hard to believe messes. I switched to CVS – late on Friday afternoon, no less. There are several stories I’m omitting here for brevity. I’m just shaking my head about it.
Note: it’s not recommended to grind up and snort this sort of medication. Not because it makes it less effective, but it leaves people with the impression that coke is making a comeback. The protein powder I sometimes eat raw directly from the canister probably already sends the wrong message when it sticks in my mustache.
I’ll let y’all know how it’s affected me when I figure it out and it’s built up in my system. If you see me pretending to ice skate while wearing banana slippers, just wave and ask me to put some pants on.
I look forward to my old optimism kicking back into full gear. That I need a serotonin boost doesn’t embarrass me in the slightest. That brain-eating zombies don’t think I’m worth the effort bothers me a bit.
“The most powerful weapon on earth is the human soul on fire.” Ferdinand Foch
Life has its lessons. You can’t plan for the unexpected, so have a plan to deal with that, too.
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I slept from about 9 to 6 last night, the longest I’ve slept in months. I laid and listened to the wind in the trees. It was sublime. And I knew the floor would be there to catch me if nothing else did.
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Instead of anything funny, I put this up at work on Friday.
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A friend at work surprised me with three new brooches. The lapel pin is one I made from someone’s purloined Sam’s Club card.
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The Vice Rule: invest in vice and frivolous hobbies and you’ll always have money in the bank.
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I surprised my supervisor at work with my long-held theory that he IS Bigfoot.
On Oct. 13th, I posted a picture of me on the balcony dressed as a stylish ghost. A couple of people didn’t believe I actually went around the apartment complex booing. That surprises me. Anyway… Here is proof from my neighbor Erika’s cameras. Enjoy.
*Note: ghost’s legs are quite visible, it seems. And they fall over chairs if they don’t see them.
After doing a lot of painting today, I cleaned. Because I’m a minimalist at heart, I also like to combine and discard. I headed out to the dumpster with my arms loaded. A black SUV drove in next to me. As I was throwing things into the lovely dumpster, population 13,436 flies, two of the three people in the SUV exited and walked over to me talking. It didn’t occur to feel like they were up to no good. “What’s up with your shirt, man?” one of them asked me. They stopped two feet away from me. “I sewed it that way. It’s custom. I call them ripshirts. If it tears, you just sew it again with another wild color.” They looked at each other. “Dude, you should totally market that sh*t. That is dope, for sure.” I laughed. “They take a lot of time to make by hand.” One of them said, “Well, then charge a lot. That’s one of a kind.” Though it’s not germane, I should say that they were young black guys. They both fist-bumped me.
As they walked toward a downstairs neighbor, I said, “You should totally bang on the door and shout ‘POLICE!.’ Both of the guys burst out laughing. The guy waiting in the SUV stuck his head out, laughing uproariously at my comment. One of the guys said, “Yeah, for sure, next time we’re going to do that.” I laughed. “Next time? Do it at every house you go to. People say they want excitement in life. Give it to them.”
I love my ripshirts and that they take so much time to make. That’s three times today someone has complimented me unexpectedly on my wild sense of color and creativity. I needed it today, believe me. Four, if you count the clerk who loved my brooch that I made yesterday. I took it off and gave it to her. She gladly accepted it and put it on her shirt immediately. I don’t know her name. I’d like to think it was Joy or Happy.
Love, X
P.S. I love random moments and I’d like to thank the universe for this one. My head was starting to be a cyclone of anxiety. I apologize for the selfies.
I went to Lowe’s for more paint to finish painting my interior doors in the apartment. I also bought some electrical to wire my landings so I can put an assortment of crazy colored lights out there. More accurately, more crazy lights… As I was leaving a man exited his car with his young son. He was so tickled at the color of my car and that my glasses seemed to match it. I showed him the key that I painted yesterday to match. He was laughing as he went inside, and said he wished he could get by with that kind of color. I told him the secret was to simply not care and that if I had my wish everything would be washed in color. His son, who was about five, told his dad, “Can my room be painted like that daddy?” My last comment before they left to go inside was that they might as well get all the paint necessary to do it while they were in there. Lowe’s owes me at least $100 in commission..
) because the video doesn’t start until after I’ve tried hooking the fleeing cat with my foot. It looks like I’m prancing to unseen music. I don’t mind looking stupid; it’s a part of who I am. If you knew how many times this year I’ve kept my promise to say, “I don’t know,” or “I don’t understand,” you’d laugh. Prancing is fun and doing so in this apartment simplex is about the least weird thing you’ll see in five minutes of careful observation.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 