Moments that Matter

Let's talk about some of the Hmmm's of life.

Let's talk about uncomfortable matters that somehow matter a lot. 

And is not the word "matter" just uncomfortable in itself; a) "matter" (means something), b) "matter" (of the universe floating freely about), c) "madder" (angry but sounds like matter). Nothing is more uncomfortable to me then someone saying "You matter to me," when really it sounds like they are saying "You madder to me." hmmm... Ah the English language and it's sound alike but are not alike words. Again, hmmm. 

Yes, I am thinking of you who says "May I have a pint of ice cream," as you rhyme it to mint and lint, and not to pie. You do have a valid point. 

So, today I had some uncomfortable moments, and I feel like sharing.  

I won't go in any particular order, but backwards. 

I think we can all say that we have told stories of a frustrating phone conversations we have had with someone who has a thick accent or uses certain slang, and we find ourselves saying things like "And she must have been a black woman, because...", or perhaps my most used is, "And they must have been middle eastern, because I couldn't understand anything (...AND I was talking to Tech support). So this morning I overheard a white (appeared homeless) woman recounting a story of a frustrating phone conversation to her male (also appeared homeless) companion, and the lady said, "and this woman answered the phone, and she must have been white, because she was speaking English...." Well, it made me laugh  but then really made me curious as to how else this woman viewed people in the world, when she needs to state she (a white person) was talking to a white person because they spoke English! It left me with a hmmm. 

And then just moments before that encounter, I was walking in the wonderfully warm sky-way system to my car on what is a most terribly cold day outside, and a (what appeared to be another homeless person who was dressed in ragged clothes) was walking the incorrect way. He wasn't following the rules; he was walking to the right of everyone, and well, people that don't follow the norm of walking or driving on the right side of the street, or path, drive me crazy. (Shirley; I shall never move to England. Ha!) And as he went to pass me on the right, I thought, "No, not today; today I will insist on staying to the right, and I will not hastily change my way and lurch to the left gracefully, but I will stand my ground and keep to the right of my way. Well this man insisted on his way as well, until we were both stopped standing defiantly in front of one another, (no eye contact, mind you) and he stood his ground and motioned his hands to the left and said, "You go ahead, (to the left)" and with some embarrassment in my heart of having lost the game of "chicken," I went to the left. And then I heard him mutter, "I'm trying to outsmart you." And what did I think then, I thought, well it was just a rope barrier, and how fantastic would it have been to have swiftly continued to the right with a quick duck down to go under the rope and step around him, and come out on the other side.Well it certainly would have made me look like a damn fool to all the business people who were walking about, but perhaps it would have made them smile inside too, because perhaps they too, don't like people who pass on the right. Hmmm... 

Speaking of walking and it's rules, and there are many rules to follow... 

I greatly dislike people who are walking just an arms length away ahead of you, and they enter through a door and they open it as little as possible and scoot through as quickly as they can, and make no effort to show courtesy of extending their arm out in an effort to keep the door open for you as well. I have seen some people not only open the door narrowly, but give a quick tug of the door to pull it shut after them. Well, I am a fast walker and I can keep up with the fastest" I'm in a huge hurry and I have a great big personal space bubble around me" people, so I quickly enter through the door as well, and I am usually fortunate enough to have a great length of shared hallway space ahead of us, and I walk directly behind them, just close enough to not be clipping their heels as they walk, and I walk as if though I am completely confident and not bothered (or aware) of my big bubble colliding with their big bubble. For some reason I am greatly satisfied in having walked in their bubble unwelcomed, merely because they were not courteous enough to keep the door held open for just a minute more for the person behind them. And this is coming from me, someone who has a tremendously large personal bubble I walk around in. 

And finally let's talk about the most uncomfortable of uncomfortable. Public bathrooms. I've had many public bathroom nightmares over the years. The most recent being that I walked into a women's bathroom to find all open toilets, just row after row of toilets, and girls sitting and peeing, or pooping perhaps. And I kept trying to find a toilet that was somewhat far from one being used, and I would discover that the isolated toilet would be filled to the brim with water that was clogged with toilet paper and brown floating "boats." I have had dreams about being in a large building and taking elevators to different floors to try to find an unoccupied bathroom, or to try to find just any bathroom at all. I typically have the reoccurring dream of having to use a bathroom that is wide open and that has a toilet that is typically clogged. But then I have a very emotionally disturbed bladder that acts like a toddler and demands my attention about 30 times a day, and that I have to take to the bathroom right away to allow it to pee. That also could be another entire blog, but this will the extent of which I talk about that. 

Sooo, at work there is an employee bathroom with only two stalls. And generally, 95% of the time no one else is ever in there when I attend to my tantrum throwing bladder. Well, today I entered into the bathroom to find that "Gah, someone was in the 2nd stall, and they were humming!" So I figured they might not humm any longer once I came to occupy the neighboring stall. But they did continue to humm!, and suddenly it seemed so embarrassing to yank down my pants and sit down my naked butt on the toilet and let them hear the sound of my fast trickle. 

side note: It was kind of like jumping into the shower naked with someone who is singing badly in the shower, "Uh, excuse me, can I just scoot my naked body around your naked, loudly shouting self, and borrow the soap, please?" 

It suddenly became kind of personal, me peeing as they happily hummed a tune. And I didn't just have one embarrassing at work bathroom moment today, but two! Well about half an hour after the encounter I just spoke of, I made the well known trip to the bathroom again, and I was greeted with the unpleasant smell of brown sinking boats having just been passed. Well, there are only two stalls, and there is nothing quite as uncomfortable as trying to detect which stall the deed was done in, so that you won't be totally grossed out when you sit on the seat and it is still warm.... The goal is find the cold toilet seat. Well, I tried to sniff it out, but yet not, with a narrowing of my nasal passages, and well this never works, so I had a 50/50 shot. I won't talk about the temperature of the toilet seat past this point. Oh, a girl's life. Hmmm.... 

Well, if you haven't laughed at some point while you read this or been a little embarrassed about what you were reading, well, then I can only hope you will come across your own discovery of new things to ponder about today. I hope for a "hmmmm" to exist somewhere in your day today.

May all be well. 

A picture perfect relationship

Let's talk about me and you. We are entirely two different people, yet we get along fantastically. We make each other laugh ridiculously; we play off each other, and we enjoy a lot of the same things. We get each other. We even argue with one another rather well. I really like yelling at you, and seeing what crazy defensive comment you will throw my way. You quite often get even more mad when I laugh at you during our arguments, and you will ask me" why?" To which I will never reply, "Well clearly I know what I am talking about, clearly I am right  about the shit that I am saying you do wrong, and well you! you don't have anything on me, I don't do anything wrong,( in which there is not a reasonable explanation for my errors!)" I usually tell him that I am laughing because I am nervous, and that seems to work ok. When he asks why I am nervous, I tell him that I don't like us arguing and not getting along and that seems to work pretty well too.

And so where am I going with this, well really no where at all, except I would like to talk about pictures. I would like to further explore into the world of people who put up pictures in the first couple of days that they move into a new place, as this is a behavior I am far removed from. I once lived in the same apartment for 5 years, and in the 4th year, I finally put up pictures. I did quite a fantastic job of it too. I cut up pictures from calenders and magazines and matched them up, and bought picture frames and put together several lovely framed pictures of 3 and created a warm autumn theme to my place. A year later I moved out, and have lived in 3 places since then and I have never put the pictures back up. My pictures spend far more time in the back of closets then they do upon the wall. I have been in my new place for a few months, and yesterday I hung up a small calender on the wall, after all it is the start of a new year, and it's reasonable to think that one ought to at least have a calender hanging up somewhere. I am pretty sure this hanging calender will be the only entertainment that my walls will experience in giving them life for at least the next years time. I am also almost certain, that January will exist for half the year, and then perhaps July will hold up for the remainder of the year. (And I am not particularly fond of deer).

And so let's talk about him; my other half. We have been together for a little over two years, and he has lived in three different places. When I first met him, I was quite impressed by the very nice tasteful artwork upon his walls. He had excellent taste and had spent some money on the pictures that hung on his walls. And then we moved in together for a short while, and the first thing he did on the very night we moved in was to hang pictures on the walls. They were measured and looked over, adjusted and rearranged, and at the end of the night, all the pictures were hung with a nice mix of my pictures and his. I was impressed, but yet in awe of someone who would find it necessary to hang pictures right away. What on earth does one person possess inside themselves to desire to put up pictures right away on the vast empty white walls? What does this say about him and perhaps his dislike for silence? His TV is always on, and mine is never on. I sit in silence at my place all the time, and rather like working with people and not saying a word. I am very comfortable  with silence. I barely notice empty walls. He is always with noise; even while he sleeps.

Well one night while we were living together we got into a bit of a silly argument  and I was at work for the night and he was home alone with the house centipedes. He was a little bit stupid with slight intoxication, and I was perfectly sober and of sound mind to tell him about how he was wrong about something. Well he went about his silly "well you do this," one liner's, and by the end of the night, he told me he was done, and he would be moving out tomorrow. I said, "ok;" we said a pleasant Good Night, and I finished working my overnight shift. Well I came home around 8am, to find that bags were not packed, clothes and bathroom items had not been gathered together in a corner; however the walls were empty, white and boldly staring at me with accusation of my part of stripping them bare. And there by the door were his pictures, and mine were neatly stacked in their own pile off to the side. It did result in a much more powerful reaction out of me, as suddenly the place that had never had empty walls from day one, seemed quite cold and unwelcoming. It had much greater affect on me then should a bag have been neatly packed by the door. It gave a much better picture of the emptiness the place would hold, should I exist in that place without him from that day forward. Had it been me, as it sometime was I merely packed a small overnight bag, and left without hesitation with intentions of making arrangements the next day to move out the rest of my belongings.

And so it goes that as the day continued on we talked as we always do, and we hugged it out, and went and got lunch together, and he went to work, and I went to bed. The next morning after my shift I came home to find all the pictures back up on the wall. And things were good, and the welcome of our home that only he could provide with his care in hanging up pictures was restored. And this is just one small reason why I think we are meant to me. Where I fail, he impresses; and where he fails, I impress. We are a puzzle that has been in the works for many years to finally come together and make a amazing picture. We create a picture that is a 1,000 little pictures of our past experiences of our hurts, of our connections and disconnections with friends and family over the years, of our accomplishments  and failures, a 1,000 plus pictures coming together to create one whole beautiful picture. And this my friend is a blog about me and you, and about those who put up pictures, and those who do not. This is my picture to you, my colorful art (whether you find it tasteful or not) hung upon your wall for the day.
Who's picture will add to your picture today?