Lover undercover in my sheets
Considering that the average person today lives for about 625,000 hours, falls asleep in an average of seven minutes after lying down, and proceeds to remain out of consciousness for a third of his life, it is sad how often we sit around wasting time and wishing things would be over. I decided this today after pacing around thinking about how bored I was and how long this summer was going to turn out to be. But then I thought about it -- this is the only stress-free time I'm going to have for the next year, so I might as well enjoy it. I also decided after starting a book called "A Short History of Nearly Everything" that, like the author of the book, I'd like to spend an extensive amount of time researching something of interest and then writing a book about my findings.
I've always loved research. I was the bitch in your third grade class whose heartrate accelerated in excitement when project guidelines were passed around for the reports/dioramas about the 50 states, consequently making the teacher think that this was a brilliant and fun idea for everyone, while you were sitting there thinking about how badly this sucked and how much you might be able to get your mom to help you. I was the even worse goody-goody who went to her first wedding in the second grade and proceeded to write all about it and draw pictures, then ask to share with the class. I was also the one who took art classes in the summer at the art studios adjacent to the public library (where I spent the rest of my time) and proceeded to research Egyptian art and customs, take notes, and draw pictures to accompany them. Yeah, ok, so it's true that I was devastated more than once as a child when a fun day of playing outside was ruined when we'd climb into the fort in my backyard for secret club meetings and my brother and my friends would complain about how bossy I was and how we shouldn't have to have to do so many things that I said we should do; or when my best friend and my brother ganged up on me and christened me "Boastful Becky;" or when one of my best friends told me that for the past 5 years she'd thought I was a snobby bitch who was too competitive. The rest just thought I was just a goody-goody who should wear makeup.
Yeah, that didn't tear me down too much. I'm still fairly cocky, self-absorbed, and anti-social. My mother finally had the guts to tell me my whole family has been scared of me for quite some time, due to my excessive list of pet peeves and my unstable temperament. Additionally, she thinks that I am just not ready for a relationship and that I don't understand those people who are. [She said that after I spent a car ride rolling my eyes at people that transfer schools to be closer to their significant other; people that never seem to go more than two months without being attached; people who get married in college]. She happened to sympathize with the other half, though she admitted to having used guys all through college, which I sympathize with.
It makes me laugh that her stories parallel mine so similarly, yet we had this conversation tonight:
Mom: PLEASE come to this neighborhood luau thing with me. I said we would go. I bought a lot of rum. You can make yourself a huge drink. Or two.
Me: Or TWO?
Mom: [higher pitch] Well, three. Whatever your limit is.
My thoughts: Try Nine, Mom.
Needless to say, I did not attend the festivities, but got dressed up just for shits and giggles. Somehow I feel a little less anti-social and alone when I get dressed up like I'm going somewhere. There's something in the possibility that you're ready to go somewhere if the situation arises, as opposed to sitting around in your gym clothes or boxers with hair you haven't washed in days.
I just want a huge mission. I want to do something important this summer. I want a product. I read something about a woman who cooked absolutely everything in one of those classic cookbooks and wrote a book about it (the book got poor reviews, but I liked the idea), so I started watching a lot of Food Network. I started dieting and looking up exercises after staring at the ripped people at the gym. I brainstormed ideas for things I could create and sell in my own artsy downtown store in the seven minutes before I fell asleep last night and started working on some of them today. I thought about learning to sew or knit, but not too seriously, because those are things that I will always think of as nice-to-know-how-to-do-but-I-know-I'm-never-going-to-care-enough-to-sit-down-and-do-them things. I thought of reading my way through a section of the bookstore, but I think that would be impossible. So, I'm taking ideas for my summer (and beyond) mission.
Anyhow, so this doesn't get too long for those who were not my nerdy compatriots in elementary school, I will leave you with this thought to tie the beginning to the end (I've always sucked at my "In Conclusion" paragraphs): Chuck Norris never sleeps. He waits. Well, I'm not sure who's luckier -- me, or him.
I've always loved research. I was the bitch in your third grade class whose heartrate accelerated in excitement when project guidelines were passed around for the reports/dioramas about the 50 states, consequently making the teacher think that this was a brilliant and fun idea for everyone, while you were sitting there thinking about how badly this sucked and how much you might be able to get your mom to help you. I was the even worse goody-goody who went to her first wedding in the second grade and proceeded to write all about it and draw pictures, then ask to share with the class. I was also the one who took art classes in the summer at the art studios adjacent to the public library (where I spent the rest of my time) and proceeded to research Egyptian art and customs, take notes, and draw pictures to accompany them. Yeah, ok, so it's true that I was devastated more than once as a child when a fun day of playing outside was ruined when we'd climb into the fort in my backyard for secret club meetings and my brother and my friends would complain about how bossy I was and how we shouldn't have to have to do so many things that I said we should do; or when my best friend and my brother ganged up on me and christened me "Boastful Becky;" or when one of my best friends told me that for the past 5 years she'd thought I was a snobby bitch who was too competitive. The rest just thought I was just a goody-goody who should wear makeup.
Yeah, that didn't tear me down too much. I'm still fairly cocky, self-absorbed, and anti-social. My mother finally had the guts to tell me my whole family has been scared of me for quite some time, due to my excessive list of pet peeves and my unstable temperament. Additionally, she thinks that I am just not ready for a relationship and that I don't understand those people who are. [She said that after I spent a car ride rolling my eyes at people that transfer schools to be closer to their significant other; people that never seem to go more than two months without being attached; people who get married in college]. She happened to sympathize with the other half, though she admitted to having used guys all through college, which I sympathize with.
It makes me laugh that her stories parallel mine so similarly, yet we had this conversation tonight:
Mom: PLEASE come to this neighborhood luau thing with me. I said we would go. I bought a lot of rum. You can make yourself a huge drink. Or two.
Me: Or TWO?
Mom: [higher pitch] Well, three. Whatever your limit is.
My thoughts: Try Nine, Mom.
Needless to say, I did not attend the festivities, but got dressed up just for shits and giggles. Somehow I feel a little less anti-social and alone when I get dressed up like I'm going somewhere. There's something in the possibility that you're ready to go somewhere if the situation arises, as opposed to sitting around in your gym clothes or boxers with hair you haven't washed in days.
I just want a huge mission. I want to do something important this summer. I want a product. I read something about a woman who cooked absolutely everything in one of those classic cookbooks and wrote a book about it (the book got poor reviews, but I liked the idea), so I started watching a lot of Food Network. I started dieting and looking up exercises after staring at the ripped people at the gym. I brainstormed ideas for things I could create and sell in my own artsy downtown store in the seven minutes before I fell asleep last night and started working on some of them today. I thought about learning to sew or knit, but not too seriously, because those are things that I will always think of as nice-to-know-how-to-do-but-I-know-I'm-never-going-to-care-enough-to-sit-down-and-do-them things. I thought of reading my way through a section of the bookstore, but I think that would be impossible. So, I'm taking ideas for my summer (and beyond) mission.
Anyhow, so this doesn't get too long for those who were not my nerdy compatriots in elementary school, I will leave you with this thought to tie the beginning to the end (I've always sucked at my "In Conclusion" paragraphs): Chuck Norris never sleeps. He waits. Well, I'm not sure who's luckier -- me, or him.