Brought to You By the Letter "B"

Oct 05, 2006 16:19


Yesterday evening I missed a call from Kevin while I busied myself floundering around searching for a December 2005 check that Jim needed me to scan and send to him.  Due to my impending brain explosion and a desire for a rational voice, I decided to call Kevin back and place him on speaker phone while I continued my fruitless excursion through Jim’s operating account files.  He accompanied me through my travails, which abruptly ended once Jim looked around his own desk and found exactly what he needed.  Kevin’s voice accompanied me out the door, down the elevator, all the way home, and through my sweet potato microwave fiasco that ended with an orange mush mosaic all over my kitchen floor.  All in all, the two of us plowed through some daytime minutes.

This evening I invited him to a screening of the film, “Jesus Camp,” starring a bunch of Christian zealots and their frighteningly indoctrinated offspring.  He asked me to Babs beforehand, and of course I can never resist a good grilled chicken and brie sandwich accompanied by sweet potato fries (which, interestingly enough, means that I will have eaten sweet potatoes every day this week - either, quite brilliant, or quite sad).

I’m getting way off point.  My point was to describe a conversation that we had while on the phone yesterday - a conversation that surprised even me with my ability to spew senseless, yet creative thought without any predilection at all.  I explained to Kevin how I needed a nickname for Elizabeth (see, Elizabeth, you’re a topic of conversation), because the name is long.  He suggested Beth, but I retorted that I didn’t particularly care for names that begin with “B” other than the name Bob.  I certainly had never thought about this before, but as the words tumbled out of my mouth, I realized that they carried weight: I don’t care for names that begin with “B.”  The reasoning that I came up with and promptly explained to Kevin also shocked me: “Saying a “B” name requires too much energy, unless the name is Bob.  A “B” sound requires push behind it, like “Brittany” or “Beatrice.”  But with “Bob,” you basically just open and close your mouth: “Bob.  Bob.  Bob.  It’s easy.”  After I finished my explanation I paused a moment, dumbfounded at the absurd truth I’d just put out into the universe.  It felt as is some other consciousness was explaining my notion of names that begin with “B” and the consciousness that I recognized as self couldn’t intervene to halt this otherwordly being from spouting off at the mouth.  Quite an out-of-mind experience, but I’m appreciative nonetheless.

*My preoccupation with names that begin with the letter “B” in no way affects my love for friends and family blessed with such names.  Thank you.
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