There are times when I am so blank that my senses change. My skin feels like it’s been dipped in ice for a nanosecond. And I can see in my peripheral vision the striations in the fabric that holds the universe together. Like a shirt too-tightly stretched across an ample chest, with the feeble but brave button – my focus – the only thing keeping the whole thing from bursting out.
Universe bursting out all over. Holsteins, atoms, skyscrapers, butterflies, polyquaternium-11, pomeranians, and yes, even ample chests. All over. Chaos and disarray and entropy just the way it wants to be. All in an instant, if I blink and lose my focus.
When my brother was a young boy, we all sat to eat at the dinner table one particular night. But like any other, we talked about everything and there were no forbidden gross-out topics. Except bell peppers. Those were strictly taboo.
He was then as he is now, but shorter, well cushioned by a short-lived layer of baby fat, and blonde as snow. He sat on two phone books to adjust his height upward toward the table. And at some point, he announced that he could make the world fuzzy. Puzzled and curious we asked him what he meant, and so he showed us. And as we looked on, he crossed his eyes.
My parents laughed politely and explained that crossing his eyes didn’t make the world fuzzy, it just made it appear fuzzy to him. I don’t know if he understood then, but of course the story is laughable now.
Funny that we’re all so sure that the world isn’t fuzzy. Or that something simple and fragile isn’t holding the whole thing together.
Friday, July 28, 2006
Monday, July 24, 2006
Dinner and an Introspection
We hurriedly had Grillardin over for dinner last night. We barbecued and watched "Defending Your Life" with Albert Brooks.
Grillardin hates Albert Brooks. She just hates him. As we watched the film she was so overcome by her hatred that she couldn't bring herself to comprehend what Meryl Streep could see in him. Or how just maybe there were some valid questions and opportunity for self-examination buried in there.
I always watch that film and think about the machinery it puts upon The Universe. The bureaucracy, and how perfect it would be, in that dark ironic-Jewish-humor sort of way.
But even more, I wonder if I would go forward, or return. I have not lived a life without fear. But I think about the moments of courage I've shown in my life, too, and I think that I'm not without a defense. And I think that, as the court went over my life, they might want to review nine days. Or maybe even more. But perhaps less.
I also think about Head Chef, Friturier, Grillardin, Boulanger, and my other friends such as yourself, and I think about your courage and wisdom. And I think that it would be a shame to return when you moved onward. But if I need to face my fear, then there's work to be done and I'll just need to pull up my bootstraps and get moving.
Grillardin hates Albert Brooks. She just hates him. As we watched the film she was so overcome by her hatred that she couldn't bring herself to comprehend what Meryl Streep could see in him. Or how just maybe there were some valid questions and opportunity for self-examination buried in there.
I always watch that film and think about the machinery it puts upon The Universe. The bureaucracy, and how perfect it would be, in that dark ironic-Jewish-humor sort of way.
But even more, I wonder if I would go forward, or return. I have not lived a life without fear. But I think about the moments of courage I've shown in my life, too, and I think that I'm not without a defense. And I think that, as the court went over my life, they might want to review nine days. Or maybe even more. But perhaps less.
I also think about Head Chef, Friturier, Grillardin, Boulanger, and my other friends such as yourself, and I think about your courage and wisdom. And I think that it would be a shame to return when you moved onward. But if I need to face my fear, then there's work to be done and I'll just need to pull up my bootstraps and get moving.
Thursday, July 06, 2006
Decisions
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
When I am faced with a difficult decision and I don’t know what to do, I go through my own sort of coping mechanisms in a specific order. It’s like the grieving process, but most likely without any precipitating, concurrent, or resultant deaths. Usually.
Remember, this is an important choice I’m preparing to make, so the stakes are theoretically high. As a result, the first thing I do is nothing at all. I seize up. At this first, critical stage of the decision making process, I try to put it out of my mind. I work in the yard, breezily talk about social affairs, and play a video game. Anything to not be distracted by this important matter. And most important of all, I take no action.
Then, when the pressure gauge is starting to read into the red zone, I agonize. I agonize over my choices and most especially the minutiae. How will this affect my balding pattern, who will pick up the dog droppings, and what will the impact be upon the Uncle whom I haven’t seen in 15 years. I also formulate answers to these questions in the form of worst-case scenarios. As an example, my answers to the above might simply be Nuclear Holocaust, Hitler, and Nuclear Holocaust.
Having determined that the worst possible outcome is also the most likely outcome, I decide not to bring about the end of the world by facilitating Hitler’s Nuclear Holocaust and I seek support for my choice. I nervously present my dilemma to everyone who will listen, attempting to seem undecided while passively portraying the nature of the frighteningly likely Nuclear Holocaust. If they agree with me, I am relieved. I have made the right choice and averted certain Nuclear Holocaust. If, however, they rudely insist on not seeing through my façade of objectivity and seem to think Nuclear Holocaust is only remotely likely, I am dismayed.
At this point I have either decided not to perpetrate the Nuclear Holocaust and my cycle of pain is over, or I am required to agonize some more. If the Holocaust remains on my plate, I grow a few more grey hairs in my beard and fret endlessly until I finally come to a choice. This could take a while.
But once my mind is made up, don’t bother to attempt to dissuade me. You had your chance, Mr. Oh-No-The-World-Probably-Won't-Really-End. No, you missed your chance, and I didn’t suffer over the decision for so long just to start again. My mind is made up, and my course is set. Stand aside, for no one shall impede me.
Unless they present me with a difficult choice.
When I am faced with a difficult decision and I don’t know what to do, I go through my own sort of coping mechanisms in a specific order. It’s like the grieving process, but most likely without any precipitating, concurrent, or resultant deaths. Usually.
Remember, this is an important choice I’m preparing to make, so the stakes are theoretically high. As a result, the first thing I do is nothing at all. I seize up. At this first, critical stage of the decision making process, I try to put it out of my mind. I work in the yard, breezily talk about social affairs, and play a video game. Anything to not be distracted by this important matter. And most important of all, I take no action.
Then, when the pressure gauge is starting to read into the red zone, I agonize. I agonize over my choices and most especially the minutiae. How will this affect my balding pattern, who will pick up the dog droppings, and what will the impact be upon the Uncle whom I haven’t seen in 15 years. I also formulate answers to these questions in the form of worst-case scenarios. As an example, my answers to the above might simply be Nuclear Holocaust, Hitler, and Nuclear Holocaust.
Having determined that the worst possible outcome is also the most likely outcome, I decide not to bring about the end of the world by facilitating Hitler’s Nuclear Holocaust and I seek support for my choice. I nervously present my dilemma to everyone who will listen, attempting to seem undecided while passively portraying the nature of the frighteningly likely Nuclear Holocaust. If they agree with me, I am relieved. I have made the right choice and averted certain Nuclear Holocaust. If, however, they rudely insist on not seeing through my façade of objectivity and seem to think Nuclear Holocaust is only remotely likely, I am dismayed.
At this point I have either decided not to perpetrate the Nuclear Holocaust and my cycle of pain is over, or I am required to agonize some more. If the Holocaust remains on my plate, I grow a few more grey hairs in my beard and fret endlessly until I finally come to a choice. This could take a while.
But once my mind is made up, don’t bother to attempt to dissuade me. You had your chance, Mr. Oh-No-The-World-Probably-Won't-Really-End. No, you missed your chance, and I didn’t suffer over the decision for so long just to start again. My mind is made up, and my course is set. Stand aside, for no one shall impede me.
Unless they present me with a difficult choice.
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