Friday, February 14, 2003

Valentine's Day. I just can't get behind a holiday so diabolically designed to make everyone feel awful.

I read this great blog entry a few days ago (my apologies to the author, I was scanning along and didn't copy your link ...) who complained she had not only had to suffer the inconvenience of an enormous traffic jam en route to work that day, but the added indignity of being stuck for the whole hour behind a woman who had adorned the length of her rear window with heart-hugging teddy bears. She wondered if the heart-bears were a permanent display, or worse, were intentionally seasonal. This brought about a disturbing image for me... a desperate, lonely women for whom all in-roads to happiness stem from a Bearrrr-riffic! representation of each totally manufactured holiday. A woman who changes out her 'Valentine's Day' bears for 'St. Patrick's Day' bears, then 'April Fools Day' bears for 'Mother's Day' bears'...


Tuesday, February 11, 2003

"Write it down."
I hear this often.


I have a predilection for long winded stories. It's a stinking habit really, using analogy and metaphor as a means of communication. I do it subconsciously, like the shift you feel when the barometric pressure drops just before a thunderstorm...see, you get the picture.

My mother said I've been that way since I became verbal, and that gift (as only a mother could see it) would make me a great elementary school teacher. An elementary school teacher of mine once said it might make me a great writer. A great writer friend of mine is often found screaming, "Jesus Christ, I get it! You don't need give me five examples" just before he throws his hands up in the air.

And so on.

My friend Tom came up with the most accurate (and my favorite) characterization of my particular malady. He said that if someone were to stop me at a crosswalk and ask "Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to Main Street?" I would point in a direction and begin...

"When I was four..."