Good, great. Yeah, fine.
"So how've you been?"
The mind races. To what I've done lately. An indistinct blur of events flash by, all of which pleasant, none of which exhilarating. Mind tries to decide on which of these to comment on, if any.
The mind races again. To how I've been feeling lately. Okay - not terrible, pleasant even, but not exhilarating. Busy, I guess? Winces at cliche. I've become one of those people that just spew out that B word when people ask me how I am? Will keep to dreaded word to self.
The mind races once more. To what's been on my mind lately. Ha, the real dog-vomit. Disastrous mishmash of woes, whinges, worries, wisdom (usually stumbled upon from other people's words), and many other things that don't begin with 'w' so I won't mention them because I like writing in alliteration (ha).
Even if mind permitted such amorphous "crazy" to spew out, to unlucky few who I consider 'close' (and therefore, acustomed to amorphous "crazy"), mind is stunned at where to begin.
What to say? How much to say? How to convey how I've been without turning innocent question to unabating soliloquoy? How to answer without superficial drawl that comes with "Um I've been good! And you?"
A microsecond goes by. And another.
"Um I've been good! Busy, but you know. And you?"
Minor pandemonium breaks out inside Mind. Self-respect barometer inches a few points lower.
Trivia.
This morning's Google page was a nod to Miro. That was cute.
(meanwhile I'm throwing up butterflies...)
Rare breed indeed.
The kind that has his kids' finger paintings on his office wall. Who'll always buy coffee for the team after the morning round, and who can always be counted on to buy fundraiser chocolates when they come around. Who'll then open it on the spot and offer you some of that chocolate.
He's the kind that introduces himself, the famous consultant doctor, to you, the bottom rung of the long steep ladder, by his first name as he shakes your hand with an gorgeously down-to-earth smile. Who'll always hold the door and let everyone through first, even though it is everyone who is following him around. He'll make dorky jokes that aren't really that funny but make you grin like hell because he's just so damn cute for telling them. Who'll say he took his wife to dinner and a play when you ask him about his weekend.
He goes from charming grandmotherly patients to tickling babies to quoting the latest clinical trial results with fluid ease, reducing every double x chromosome in the hospital to a collective swoon. He's the kind that has the luckiest wife on earth, and who you just wish there would be more of in the world so you could marry one yourself.
Haha yep. I'll have me one of those please.
Here's my shoutout to you fellas. =)
Another post with words not my own.
I'm not a particularly huge fan of Maya Angelou. But she's part of the Sydney Writer's Festival, so I thought I'd post one of the poems that I do like. I like how it's dark, which is much more captivating than the Oprah-esque
Phenomenal Woman that she's so famous for.
Men
When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.
One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.
Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.
Maybe.
Only on television...
PAUL: It's just, well, this is what bothered me the other night. 'Cause I--I know that there's something wrong, but y-you won't talk about it. I guess sometimes it--it feels like you're holding back.
ELLIOT: Of course I'm holding back! I'm insane, you idiot! Remember the other day, when you told me that I had pit stains? Well, I have cried every fifteen minutes on the half-hour since you told me that. I am wracked with self-doubt. I have panic attacks. I'm claustrophobic, germaphobic, phobiaphobic. I talk to myself. I talk to my cat. I talk to three separate shrinks about the fact that often my cats respond to me in my mother's voice. And yesterday, when that stupid pretty surgical nurse handed you a pair of latex gloves, I almost killed the guy whose leg I was stitching up because I couldn't stop thinking about the two of you having sex on a box of steaks! Why a box of steaks? 'Cause my dad had an affair with a female butcher! And, as I mentioned before, I am insane. There! I opened up! Are you happy?
PAUL: No. I'm incredibly turned on.
Swanky saxophone music comes up as he pulls her down onto the couch with him into a passionate kiss.
--------
[Scrubs Episode 2-16 "My Karma"]
Oh, if only!
Oh, sweetheart...
Sweetheart, do not love too long: I loved long and long, And grew to be out of fashion Like an old song. All through the years of our youth Neither could have known Their own thought from the other's, We were so much at one. But O, in a minute she changed - O do not love too long, Or you will grow out of fashion Like an old song.What a cute poem. [poor Yeats =( ]
Hmm I've calmed down now.
Still.
"I'm lookin' for a girl that will do whatever the fuck I say
Everyday she be givin' it up"
- Eminem (featuring Nate Dogg),
Shake It (from the album
Curtain Calls)
I used to hate being the kinda girl that I am. Loudmouthed, bossy, assertive. Straight-talking, cut-to-the-chase, doesn't take crap from people, tells-it-like-it-is. I wished and wished to be one of those sweet demure girls who are agreeable and polite and say "that's okay! don't worry!" to everything because they don't want to make anyone unhappy.
As of today, I am so damn glad I'm me. Hell, I hope all my daughters turn out like me. I don't care if they scare away boys - I'd rather them scare away boys than to end up with a scary boy.
I say this because I found out today that my dear, dear friend's in an abusive relationship. She's married to the creep, and now she's trapped. Like literally, he won't even let her eat dinner at her parent's house. She's not "allowed".
When I heard this I got so angry. Then I heard the Eminem song on the radio.
Screw you Eminem. How dare you rap about girls like they are nothing but an object to have sex with and "do whatever the fuck I say". How dare you demean women like that, and then have the audacity to broadcast this to the rest of the world and put the song on your little 'best of' album.
Screw you misogynists who debase your girlfriends and wives in order to boost your fledging little male ego, relieve your pathetic insecurity. How dare you high-five each other when one of you finds a submissive Jap chick who cooks and cleans and gets your slippers. How dare you not let your wife see her parents because you want her to stay home to have dinner ready for you when you get home.
How dare you.
