Under the knife

It's true--I'm four teeth stupider now, and I can feel the difference. When I try to compute regular problems that would have been a breeze before, I falter and fail. To ease myself into this new phase of mental capacity as painlessly as possible, I have watched movie after movie in the past two days. I will rank them as follows:

1. The Great Debaters
2. Pride and Prejudice (new version)
3. Gilmore Girls (multiple episodes of season 5)
4. Iron Man
5. P.S. I Love You
6. 27 dresses
7. Flicka
8. Christy
9. Intolerable Cruelty

Feel free to dispute my rankings, and please remember: I'm on drugs.

I was going to post pictures of my fatface as a nod to all those wisdom teeth victims I laughed at in my past (mostly Rachel R.) but I don't think any of them do my cheeks justice. Maybe I will go ahead and throw one on here, just for fun. Go ahead and laugh. Now I'm stupider and I have a fat face!

Facebook: Opposing Viewpoints

Pro:
I looove facebook. It is so nice to belong to something--to be part of something big, you know? And I've always wondered how many friends I have. Now I know. If I ever need a little reminder, I need simply log-in and check that number on the left side of my profile. "Ah, yes. I DO have friends!" (At these moments, it is key to ignore the fact that I don't hardly know half of them, and that I actually face-to-face interact with less than 10 of them...) Facebook gets me using the computer more often, which must increase my skillz, which must make me more marketable in some way. Still working on being marketable. Facebook keeps me in touch with my generation and the real life issues we face with cyber-groups such as: "Help! Lost cellphone--Need numberz!" "Supporters of Voldemort" or "Kyle Korver is a major hottie." Most importantly, Facebook lets me keep an eye on ex-boyfs, current boyfs, and potential boyfs. I owe you big time Facebook. BFF.

Con:
Facebook is L A M E. enough said.

The play-by-play of a non-workin girl's day

The title rhymes. Did you catch that? If not, go back. Read it again. If it still doesn't rhyme, go watch the Flight of the Conchords video where they rollerskate...that's the beat I was rocking when I came up with the gem you find above.

Sorry if this post is lame-o. I just woke up from a mid-day nap, which usually means I'm any two of the following threesome (can't be all three at once): grumpy, groggy, or gorgeous. Think about it, think think about it.

Reviewing what I've written so far, I don't think I actually need to give the play-by-play of the non-workin girl's day--I've pretty much covered it all without trying.

Not working is the best.

For Marie

In Just-

in Just-
spring when the world is mud-
luscious the little
lame balloonman

whistles far and wee

and eddieandbill come
running from marbles and
piracies and it's
spring

when the world is puddle-wonderful

the queer
old baloonman whistles
far and wee
and bettyandisbel come dancing

from hop-scotch and jump-rope and

it's
spring
and
the

goat-footed

balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee

-e.e. cummings

Outside

Tonight I drove around the city with my windows open. Wisps of a hundred blossoms rushed in and out my windows, on and off my tongue, over and around my lungs. I am ready to move outside again.


I have a taste for air, somewhere in my subconscious; and I guess we all do, being life-linked to it as we are. There is steak-and-potatoes air, like the thick heavy stuff you breathe in Ghana. There is healthy eatyourveggies air, just after rain or high in the mountains. There is dessert air--and that is the air of springtime.


'Outside: The world existing beyond where one is physically confined or obliged to be.' -Oxford English Dictionary

*****

All day and night, music,
a quiet, bright
reedsong. If it
fades, we fade.

Rumi

thoughts; separate, but equal.

I hate computers. All I have to do is touch one and it breaks. So don't let me near yours--just don't freak out when I call you to do my dirty work (aka browse facebook for me...thanks, you know who you are.) Tonight I took apart my computer with sweaty, shaking hands and recovered my monitor from its coma. Finally! A computer rep who knows what he is talking about and was patient enough to walk me through surgery. I'd give you a cookie, or an e-cookie, dear John from HP, if i knew where to find you.

There should be a required height for bathroom stall walls. Who wants to stand up and meet eyes with her neighbor? What social ettiquette is there for such a situation?!

What if we wore all our bad mistakes on our outsides (besides tatoos)--a public statement of track record, competency, etc...like every rude comment or humiliating moment was a pock mark or a scar on your skin. I thought about this as I recently paused to let the other car at the four-way go, even though it was my turn, and I was grateful as I watched one massive metal dent limp in front of my headlights. "Oooh, good thing I didn't mess with that guy!" I thought.
("Those could have been guests at my wedding!" "They were cones!")

Somedays my eyes see good and somedays my eyes see bad. Yesterday my eyes were seeing bad, no thanks to an hour long dinner conversation about pyschos who lock their kids in the basement for years, murder their significant other, etc., and taking public transportation home after dark didn't really help. I was sitting on Trax, surrounded by the usual grab bag of salt lake society, and I was embarassed by my body language--smashed into a corner, body crossed and contained, eyes out the window, fingers clutching purse--all intended to communicate separateness, non-communication, impenetrablity. And I thought about how Jesus lived among the people; the worst of the people, the outcasts, the smellers and the liars and the untrustworthy; and how I shamefully try to do my portion of His work with a very outstretched and latex-gloved hand.... So I justified myself by saying "but Jesus was powerful and could protect himself and didn't need to worry about danger or his safety." and yet and yet He died at the hands of proud and conspiring men, sparing himself no pain despite His power.

Something to think about.

Ignorance and Arrogance Is Bad Foreign Policy

I read these words on a bumper sticker today. Ironic, isn't it? I'd like to think the genius behind the phrase was double-dissing Bush*, both in content and bad grammar...but I doubt it. And if i'm being honest, I like better to think that the genius behind the phrase can't construct correct sentences. So I had a good laugh about it, until I realized the owner of the truck was watching me, scowling.

*The views expressed by bumper sticker guy are not those, necessarily, of the author of this blog.