Remember the time that I constantly feel like I'm on trial and being judged for every single action I take?
Maybe it's called being an adult. Whatever it is, I'm not liking it.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Day 43: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... No One Would Have To Tell Me To Break A Leg
Sometimes I feel like I'm an actress playing a part in a play that I didn't try out for. Actresses in plays have scripted lines, stage directions, and cues. They have very little control over how they play their characters, which were written by the playwright and are instructed by the directors.
Life in general is too controlling. To survive, we need jobs, requiring us to wake up at certain times, be at a building at a set time after driving within certain speed perimeters, finish particular tasks, and take care of work obligations.
At an errand run on the way home from work, we must pay tax in addition to our purchase.
When we get home, we have to pay bills, complete chores, and take care of our family's needs.
In a relationship, we're required to be faithful and compromise even when doing so may go against what we want or need.
We must do all of this regardless of how we're feeling on a particular day, how late we stayed up the night before, and how much we loathe the tasks we're required to perform. If we don't, we could lose our jobs, go to jail, become single, or land on the TV show Hoarders.
Our lives are filled with "must dos" and "have tos" and "honey dos". While I agree with some of the rules - mainly the ones that if you broke would land you in jail - if you think about it, our lives sometimes down to the smallest detail is controlled and scripted. And that's no way to live.
A college friend once told me that if he had his way, he'd be able to "eat, sleep, and screw" whenever he wanted to. Think about this. You get to the 3 p.m. slump at work and desperately wish for a nap, so guess what? You can sleep. You just passed the "next rest stop 52 miles" sign on the turnpike when you hear your stomache growl, so guess what? You can eat. And you get an urge to... you know. So you get some. How awesome would that be?
They're the basic needs of a human being - eating, sleeping, and reproducing. So why shouldn't we be able to do them more often, and when we want to? Apparently it's called being an adult, which is so not what I signed up for on my 18th birthday.
In Lichtenstein, everyone would be required to visit a remote part of my country for at least a day twice a year either solo or with a group. This place is called "Spontaneousville" with the tagline much like Vegas: "What happens in Spontaneousville never actually happened."
It will be a place where you will be free to do whatever is in your heart to do. Before you arrive, you have the option to submit a form where you will outline what it is you would like to do so those who run the place can be sure to have it on hand. If you don't choose to fill out the form, you could just take advantage of all the games, toys, and activities will will have readily available. If you're tired, take a nap. If you're hungry, eat. The only rules would be not to break any legal rules, like killing or stealing.
Every adult needs to be able to get away and just let loose for awhile and here they'll be able to do it in a safe and fun manner. Some aspects of life could be much more bearable if you're not directed toward what to do all the time.
Now if you'll excuse me, I feel like eating some peanut butter out of the jar and drinking milk out of the carton.
Life in general is too controlling. To survive, we need jobs, requiring us to wake up at certain times, be at a building at a set time after driving within certain speed perimeters, finish particular tasks, and take care of work obligations.
At an errand run on the way home from work, we must pay tax in addition to our purchase.
When we get home, we have to pay bills, complete chores, and take care of our family's needs.
In a relationship, we're required to be faithful and compromise even when doing so may go against what we want or need.
We must do all of this regardless of how we're feeling on a particular day, how late we stayed up the night before, and how much we loathe the tasks we're required to perform. If we don't, we could lose our jobs, go to jail, become single, or land on the TV show Hoarders.
Our lives are filled with "must dos" and "have tos" and "honey dos". While I agree with some of the rules - mainly the ones that if you broke would land you in jail - if you think about it, our lives sometimes down to the smallest detail is controlled and scripted. And that's no way to live.
A college friend once told me that if he had his way, he'd be able to "eat, sleep, and screw" whenever he wanted to. Think about this. You get to the 3 p.m. slump at work and desperately wish for a nap, so guess what? You can sleep. You just passed the "next rest stop 52 miles" sign on the turnpike when you hear your stomache growl, so guess what? You can eat. And you get an urge to... you know. So you get some. How awesome would that be?
They're the basic needs of a human being - eating, sleeping, and reproducing. So why shouldn't we be able to do them more often, and when we want to? Apparently it's called being an adult, which is so not what I signed up for on my 18th birthday.
In Lichtenstein, everyone would be required to visit a remote part of my country for at least a day twice a year either solo or with a group. This place is called "Spontaneousville" with the tagline much like Vegas: "What happens in Spontaneousville never actually happened."
It will be a place where you will be free to do whatever is in your heart to do. Before you arrive, you have the option to submit a form where you will outline what it is you would like to do so those who run the place can be sure to have it on hand. If you don't choose to fill out the form, you could just take advantage of all the games, toys, and activities will will have readily available. If you're tired, take a nap. If you're hungry, eat. The only rules would be not to break any legal rules, like killing or stealing.
Every adult needs to be able to get away and just let loose for awhile and here they'll be able to do it in a safe and fun manner. Some aspects of life could be much more bearable if you're not directed toward what to do all the time.
Now if you'll excuse me, I feel like eating some peanut butter out of the jar and drinking milk out of the carton.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Day 42: What Did Batman Say To Robin... About Loving Lamps Not Being A Better Idea Than A Slap-Happy Phallic Hot Dog
Holy Rated R Commercial Batman!
What exactly went on during the creative meeting that resulted in this commercial?
What exactly went on during the creative meeting that resulted in this commercial?
My take on it: The meeting to brainstorm this commercial took place on the south side of the 22nd floor of the tall building that stands at 233 North Michigan Ave. in Chicago. Though I work on the 20th floor of this particular building, I am sure the meeting that led to this phallic hot dog bitch-slapping this guy in the face - leaving creamy mustard evidence - must have taken place on a Friday afternoon two floors above my cube.
First of all, nothing productive happens on a Friday afternoon, as everyone is already mentally checked out, getting slap-happy, and daydreaming about their upcoming golf outing/date/dinner reservations, etc. The bunny mass was invented in my office on a Friday afternoon. (So how can we list each of these animals’ weights in a fun and engaging manner? … I know! Let’s calculate how many bunnies it would take to equal the weight of every animal! We can call it “bunny mass!”) Need I say more?
And although I have a pretty good view of it from two floors down, the hardworking TUMS folks on the 22nd floor have an eye-level view of the happy penis drawing that greets me every morning from the window of the building adjacent to mine with a simple, yet cheerful “hi”.
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Now I know how much the penis drawing amuses my colleagues and I. We enjoy pointing it out to other colleagues, marvel about how it’s “the happiest organ ever,” and brainstorm about how to respond (since my entire department is female, we have overwhelmingly decided cheerful boobs would be the most appropriate response to the happy penis).
Therefore, on the Friday afternoon when the TUMS employees were grumbling over who the hell thought it was OK to schedule a meeting on a Friday afternoon, all they were thinking about was what they needed to throw out that would cause the bigwigs to throw open the gates and free them for their weekend plans.
Humor. Though it’s a difficult genre to do right, it’s also the most welcoming and the most rewarding (hence the non-gendered, yet smart cyborg with three arms that I drew with green and pink markers at a meeting today with not only both of my bosses, but the president of the company and representative from our parent company to illustrate what I think World Book the person would look like. My pathetic excuse for a robot drawing did get a big laugh from the 40 people in the room, though. Mission accomplished.)
So humor is the genre and since it’s Friday afternoon and the creative juices of the TUMS employees goes on their weekends early – leaving it physically impossible to craft new ideas - they don’t have much choice other than to pull a Brick Tamland in Anchorman and throw out ideas from what they can see. (“I think carpet.” … “What about lamp?”)
This is the point where one employee gazing out the window wishing it was 5 o’clock already spots the penis poster and says “What about a peni – err… uhh – hot dog? We can feature a hot dog!”
The boss says “go on,” and the employee scrambles to come up with something that will just get her out of the hot seat and immediately thinks “Ummm carnival! There are hot dogs at a carnival!” And since she’s still looking at the penis that is so happy and funny and makes everyone’s day brighter, and is well into the throes of Friday afternoon slap-happiness, she begins to describe a slap-happy hot dog designed to sell heartburn medicine.
And since it’s Friday afternoon and there is an actual idea on the table, everyone enthusiastically agrees that it’s a great one because really what else do they have? “I love lamp… buy TUMS?” A slap-happy hot dog smeared with mustard is such a better idea than that.
Now let’s get out and enjoy the sunshine.
First of all, nothing productive happens on a Friday afternoon, as everyone is already mentally checked out, getting slap-happy, and daydreaming about their upcoming golf outing/date/dinner reservations, etc. The bunny mass was invented in my office on a Friday afternoon. (So how can we list each of these animals’ weights in a fun and engaging manner? … I know! Let’s calculate how many bunnies it would take to equal the weight of every animal! We can call it “bunny mass!”) Need I say more?
And although I have a pretty good view of it from two floors down, the hardworking TUMS folks on the 22nd floor have an eye-level view of the happy penis drawing that greets me every morning from the window of the building adjacent to mine with a simple, yet cheerful “hi”.
Now I know how much the penis drawing amuses my colleagues and I. We enjoy pointing it out to other colleagues, marvel about how it’s “the happiest organ ever,” and brainstorm about how to respond (since my entire department is female, we have overwhelmingly decided cheerful boobs would be the most appropriate response to the happy penis).
Therefore, on the Friday afternoon when the TUMS employees were grumbling over who the hell thought it was OK to schedule a meeting on a Friday afternoon, all they were thinking about was what they needed to throw out that would cause the bigwigs to throw open the gates and free them for their weekend plans.
Humor. Though it’s a difficult genre to do right, it’s also the most welcoming and the most rewarding (hence the non-gendered, yet smart cyborg with three arms that I drew with green and pink markers at a meeting today with not only both of my bosses, but the president of the company and representative from our parent company to illustrate what I think World Book the person would look like. My pathetic excuse for a robot drawing did get a big laugh from the 40 people in the room, though. Mission accomplished.)
So humor is the genre and since it’s Friday afternoon and the creative juices of the TUMS employees goes on their weekends early – leaving it physically impossible to craft new ideas - they don’t have much choice other than to pull a Brick Tamland in Anchorman and throw out ideas from what they can see. (“I think carpet.” … “What about lamp?”)
This is the point where one employee gazing out the window wishing it was 5 o’clock already spots the penis poster and says “What about a peni – err… uhh – hot dog? We can feature a hot dog!”
The boss says “go on,” and the employee scrambles to come up with something that will just get her out of the hot seat and immediately thinks “Ummm carnival! There are hot dogs at a carnival!” And since she’s still looking at the penis that is so happy and funny and makes everyone’s day brighter, and is well into the throes of Friday afternoon slap-happiness, she begins to describe a slap-happy hot dog designed to sell heartburn medicine.
And since it’s Friday afternoon and there is an actual idea on the table, everyone enthusiastically agrees that it’s a great one because really what else do they have? “I love lamp… buy TUMS?” A slap-happy hot dog smeared with mustard is such a better idea than that.
Now let’s get out and enjoy the sunshine.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Day 41: Never Have I Ever... Paid So Much Money To Lay In Dirt
I'm big on adventures and new experiences, and what better way to do something new and fun than when you're on vacation?
This was why - during an otherwise fantastic vacation cruising up the coast of California - I was figuratively kicking myself while lying naked on a tombstone in wet brown insulation.
The Calistoga Golden Haven Hot Springs Spa marketed this poor excuse for Mud Bath pampering as a "wonderful Napa Valley spa experience". I had been looking forward to not only my first mud bath, but the following mineral water shower, jacuzzi, and blanket wrap treatment. Plus, this was the first time my husband agreed do any spa treatment with me so although I was shockingly surprised, I was also especially excited to share the experience.
After pulling into the "spa" (yes, I'm going to use quotation marks when referring to this Motel 6 someone decided to slap the word "spa" on) we both grimaced at its appearance, but decided to give it a chance.
After changing into scratchy robes, we were led into the mausoleum - err mud room - and told to slowly sink into the mud. (In no way did this wall-to-wall drab concrete room even resemble the photos in the brochures.)
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This was why - during an otherwise fantastic vacation cruising up the coast of California - I was figuratively kicking myself while lying naked on a tombstone in wet brown insulation.
The Calistoga Golden Haven Hot Springs Spa marketed this poor excuse for Mud Bath pampering as a "wonderful Napa Valley spa experience". I had been looking forward to not only my first mud bath, but the following mineral water shower, jacuzzi, and blanket wrap treatment. Plus, this was the first time my husband agreed do any spa treatment with me so although I was shockingly surprised, I was also especially excited to share the experience.
After pulling into the "spa" (yes, I'm going to use quotation marks when referring to this Motel 6 someone decided to slap the word "spa" on) we both grimaced at its appearance, but decided to give it a chance.
After changing into scratchy robes, we were led into the mausoleum - err mud room - and told to slowly sink into the mud. (In no way did this wall-to-wall drab concrete room even resemble the photos in the brochures.)
With a wrinkled nose, we both dipped into the "mud" which reminded me of a wet version of the insulation with the Pink Panther on it that my dad has in the garage. After our goodies were covered with the stuff, our staff member came in and gave us cool compresses for our foreheads and backrests that were - I'm not kidding - shaped like tombstones.
After just minutes, I could not wait to get off the concrete tombstone-shaped slab and out of the disgusting goop that got progressively scaldingly hotter the more you sunk down into the unsanitary concrete tub.
Plus, it was hot. Eventually, I kept my arms out of the tub because I was overheating.
After unsuccessfully trying to get the crusted mud that got stuck to every single hair on my body in the provided shower that was fed from a visible garden hose, we were shown to the jacuzzi. Just what I needed after overheating - to sit in hot water. So I spent the majority of this time with just my feet in the water as I was attempting to cool down.
But I was looking forward to the blanket wrap, even though after what we had endured up to that point, I wasn't sure what to expect. Finally, we were told to put our robes back on and go into the wrap room.
After lying down naked atop a table with just a thin sheet covering me, the staff member came in to perform the wrap. She stood over me, took the edges of the heavy blanket I was lying atop that was under the sheet I had over me, and tossed them over my body. It took about three seconds. Then she turned out the lights and we were plunged into darkness with only the glow-in-the-dark stars that one might find in a child's room on the ceiling.
Just what I needed after overheating twice - to be left under a sheet and thick blanket.
Brent was just as hot as I was at this point, and kicked off the heavy blanket soon after the staff member left after wondering aloud if he'd get in trouble for doing so. He then told me he'd give me $5 to walk over to the cooler of ice and dump it on him. This gave me a good laugh that turned into downright hysterical laughter at the ridiculousness of the entire situation as Brent started putting his hand under the tiny fountain between our two beds meant to relax us with its sound and started flinging droplets on his body in a failed attempt to cool himself off.
Although the horrible experience has since served as a hilarious story that we've told a number of times, what was truly horrible was actually forking over cash for this overheating abomination. It'd have been better spent to lay in actual mud. At least that would have been cooler.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Day 40: Shakespeare's High School Poetry...
Sundays are one of my favorite blogging days because I'm a writer and I love writing poetry.
But my writing needs to be perfect to me. Maybe that's a flaw, but it's important to me. So although this is not how I intended for this blog to be - where I put off entries until the following day - sometimes it needs to happen because I'm not one to just throw something together for the sake of throwing it together.
So when I see that it's 11:38 p.m. and I've been working ever since dinner and the dog still needs a walk, I need a shower, my work bag needs to be packed for tomorrow, etc. I realize I won't be able to take the time I properly need to write today's fun poetry style that I've never done before. So look for it tomorrow after I've gotten a proper night's sleep.
......
And it's tomorrow. Or today, rather. This week's poem style is Shape. Also known as a Pattern Poem, a Shape poem is one whose shape refers to its subject.
But my writing needs to be perfect to me. Maybe that's a flaw, but it's important to me. So although this is not how I intended for this blog to be - where I put off entries until the following day - sometimes it needs to happen because I'm not one to just throw something together for the sake of throwing it together.
So when I see that it's 11:38 p.m. and I've been working ever since dinner and the dog still needs a walk, I need a shower, my work bag needs to be packed for tomorrow, etc. I realize I won't be able to take the time I properly need to write today's fun poetry style that I've never done before. So look for it tomorrow after I've gotten a proper night's sleep.
......
And it's tomorrow. Or today, rather. This week's poem style is Shape. Also known as a Pattern Poem, a Shape poem is one whose shape refers to its subject.
After doing this exercise, I have realized that I have a love/hate relationship with this type of poetry. I love it because it challenges me to think of different words to use and different ways to get across the same type of concept.
But I hate how horribly constrictive it is. I wanted to use certain words a number of times, and became frustrated when I realized that I couldn't because it didn't fit into the pattern. I'm a writer. Words are my tool and I hate when I can't use them the way I want to.
There's a reason I like free verse best - because I don't end up with a cliched poem in a cliched shape with simplistic language to make the words fit like the one below. Patting myself on the back for deciding against writing a love poem in the shape of a heart. Gag.
Plunging Skyward
I
do
truly
believe
that what
does go up
must
then
fall
just
because how
else can we
know what
true joy
is
?
Saturday, July 9, 2011
Friday, July 8, 2011
Day 38: Stop. Focus. Click... On The Beauty Of Nature
Another reason Chicago feels like home is that there's more green space to remind me of my mom's garden at home. She has a gorgeous array of flowers, including poppies that fondly remind me of a childhood staple, The Wizard of Oz, and the purple ones that always make me think of my grandmother.
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