Despite having a queue of great books, I can’t seem to read lately. I just don’t have the patience for it. Instead, I end up watching entire series of TV shows on netflix (Arrested Development, Roswell, Scrubs, Veronica Mars, Wonderfalls). And last night I learned to crochet.
Oh, and I can’t stop listening to the new Britney CD. I don’t care how crazy she is, her songs are catchy.
I guess everyone is getting homemade scarves for Christmas this year.
Family is one of those inescapable things in life. Like death and taxes and chickenpox. We say the same things to each other, over and over again. Fight the same fights, watch the same movies (The Sound of Music and Singing in the Rain) eat the same food every year. Have the same discussions over turkey and stuffing.
Remember coming home for Thanksgiving freshman year of college? When everything felt different but familiar, and you wonder what had changed, only to realize that it must be you? And you went out with your friends from high school, but realized that the only thing you could talk about was college? Well now I’m not really sure it was me, maybe it’s home that’s changing.
My parents moved the silverware. It’s not in the drawer under the coffeemaker anymore. I don’t know what prompted this change, but there it is. The silverware is on the kitchen table now, in an earthly sort of woven basket that also holds the napkins. Maybe this doesn’t seem catastrophic, but it is. And my philosophy-major brain is out of practice considering these huge ideas of time and change and existence. I wonder how many times I’ll open the drawer before I get used to it.
large U.S. map
a mini sombrero from NM
peep toe heels
Paddington yellow rain boots
three bouncy balls
framed poster
one can of spray adhesive
three plastic tablecloths
tote bag from the mall of America
a praying mantis puppet
paper dolls
talking Napoleon Dynamite keychain
assorted event t shirts
screened room dividers
four lamps
three chairs (besides the one I sit in)
binder with printouts of every font my company uses
five different kinds of sticky notes
two scarves
3 coats
one black satin cocktail dress for tonight’s gala
This concludes your peek into the office of a 20something. I am sure Robin Leech will call any minute.
I can remember being four and a half, sitting on the floor, asking my dad when I’d be five. When he told me six months, I remember thinking that it was so far away. Like I might as well not even bother because six months was practically forever.
Fourth grade (1994) was a hot year for rainforests. We learned about slash and burn, and the depletion of natural resources. We talked about all the species that were going extinct because the rainforests were being destroyed to make room for farms. Farms whose crops could not be supported on rainforest soil because it was so different. We made group presentations, and stood at a table during lunch hour, passionately asking our classmates to donate their change so we could buy some land and Save the rainforest! I don’t know how much we raised, but I’m sure it only saved about an acre of land for about six months.
When we learned about tornadoes in school I was convinced that every time a tornado warning came on the weather we were all going to die. My sister and I would gather up our possessions (stuffed animals, mostly, and those little pills that you put in water and they become little spongy animals) and hide under the basement stairs. And there we’d sit until our parents got home and wondered where their kids were. Oh that’s right, cowering under the filthy basement stairs.
When we were little, the buildup to holidays seemed to last for months. In reality, it was probably only a week. But by the time Halloween or Valentine’s day or Thanksgiving actually rolled around, we were about to burst with excitement. I think that’s how it should be.
My point (if I have one) is that our perspectives on time change as we grow older. When I was younger, there was an immediacy to everything. I was so sure that the rainforests were going to be completely gone by the time I hit middle school, that I’d never make it to five. I couldn’t process long periods of time. Sixth months was like a year. But now, six months passes in a blink, and I’m starting to think Ferris Bueller had it right all along: “Life goes by pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”
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