Fresh meat

The term fresh meat has never been more appealing to this vegetarian.

I am enduring the last day of my job. The last day of a time with people I thoroughly enjoy and should be more than appreciative of. Most folks who seek an internship aren't granted such pleasant company.

But I find myself wanting to crawl out of my own skin - ready for new people.

Fresh meat if you will.

I'm tired of seeing the same faces 8-5 Monday through Friday. I am tired of my lame routine from my apartment to various homes to do whatever leisurely activity is available. I value time to relax and time to bond with friends - but I need a new place with new folks to meet.

I spent some time on the phone last night, talking to one of my closest girl friends from school. We had hardly spoken at all since she left at the end of the spring semester. That was mostly my own fault - I, after all, hadn't called. I hate the phone sometimes. I see it as this daunting task, this terribly expectation to make the calls to check in and see how everyone is - calls I just don't want to make.
Am I strange because I prefer waiting months to speak to someone and then playing catch up for hours at coffee? By that time they have focused in on what it was that was important over the past few months. If you call every couple of days - you hear all the stuff they may not even bother to recall if you wait a while to ask.

And although I hadn't called - and I knew I was walking on thin ice because of it - I didn't want to apologize. I knew it wasn't as though my act was malicious or intentionally rude or unkind - so I didn't want to say I was sorry.

The same thing happened today. I expect people to have patience - and maybe that's too much to ask?

But when you are with new people - there is a kind of patience you don't have with acquaintances or even close friends. The polite patience - the new exciting feeling of a new friend... there's the intrigue and that flustered experience of getting to know someone you've never spoken to before.

Maybe my love of new people comes with my understanding that I am at my best during an introduction and initial few conversations. I'm not tired, or busy or boring to them - I'm new, talkative and intriguing - I'm more interesting for the first week than I'll ever be again.

I am the best version of myself with the people I see rarely.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder doesn't it?

The Ability to Read

I think that the majority of Americans have lost the will and desire to read. Not to mention lost the ability to read effectively.

I started reading again over Christmas Break. I found some books that interested me and committed myself to ACTUALLY reading them. Quite the task when "reading for pleasure" has long eluded you.

I used to read all the time when I was a kid. I was the nerdy girl that was tired of listening to boring class in 4th grade and instead read my book strategically hidden underneath my desk - escaping the view of my teacher. I think her name was Mrs. Bonjourno... or something strange - I know it started with a B and she oddly reminded me of my Aunt Kathy - although not nearly as beautiful. The same small frame and reddish blond hair - styled larger than I'm sure it could ever be naturally

But the time I may have spent reading if I was 20 - 10 years ago - I spend on facebook, or online-window-shopping, or watching online television, or maybe perusing some news off of bbc.uk.com. Are you seeing a pattern? Computers are systematically murdering the need to read... the need that lies within all of us - somewhere deep... deep inside.

But once you are awakened to your desire to learn, and to read, and live through a character in a book - your life is changed once more. (Until you forget how much you love it... again.)

Along the same lines of reading comes writing. We make writing out to be this disastrous, stressful, excessive hobby. We are always intrigued and enamored by people who "write." Currently, keeping a journal is considered too time consuming or daunting for most. We most certainly don't write each other letters anymore.

The book I'm reading describes the beginnings of a courtship in 1901. Describing the task of writing notes - begging permission to take a girl on a walk around her block… sending them by mail - to someone who lived only blocks away. He sits waiting - in trepidation - for her response to arrive in his mail box. Can you imagine if we still did that? Obviously there's no need when someone could ask us in a facebook wall post - or even a message if they are romantic. Or heck - if they got the balls to get our number from a friend they could text us.

"Hey want to go out some time?"

"... by the way this is Tom - I got your number from Suzy."

How romantic. Thank goodness we don't read or write anymore - we have time to be wooed now that we've abandoned such frivalous exploits.

Redecorating

I just spent over an hour on the IKEA website making dream-plans for an apartment I may someday own. I sat there contemplating the shelving I would like, the bed frame I would order, the sheets I would invest in.

I spent another half hour perusing mirrors and artificial flowers with vases.
Why is redecorating so incredibly alluring? We have this incredibly notion that if we change the layout, change the textiles, change the decorations - we are starting fresh. Sometimes we just want to scrap our current surroundings and start new.

I'm guilty of this. Feeling too comfortable and complacent - is UNCOMFORTABLE.

Moms are capable of self-therapy by moving furniture, repainting rooms, or buying some new art or vases for the living room. Wealthy Moms can hire an interior designer - have their living room "reinvented."

It's incredibly the time and money we invest in our "spaces."

Here's my theory: if someone would start a website that was called switch-a-room - we could save ourselves a lot of money. The site would charge a flat rate with each use - something reasonable but that would compensate at team to come photograph and assess the condition of the room elements up for trade. People could go on switch-a-room's site and list all the elements of the room they are ready to switch. Entire rooms would be photographed, furniture, drapes, paint colors, decorations --- so you could browse the rooms others are sick of - and offer to SWAP. Save yourself tons of money - and agree to a trade. Their elements for yours.

Of course that is where the survey team comes in - they assess value and photograph the elements professionally - so everyone knows exactly what they're getting before they come. Then, they pay a reasonable moving fee and switch-a-room swaps the rooms.

Brilliant right?

If I felt called to do it - I would. But there's my thought for the day - someone should run with it. Great job for college kids and high school kids (expecting little pay) -- they could be trained to assess rooms and furniture etc.

It's a win - win.

A cheap way to redecorate and reinvent your life.

Tastes and Smells of Home

Different pies with loads of cinnamon mingled with fresh laundry- those are the two smells I will always associate with my home in Michigan.

Not because my Mom had the incredibly domestic tendency to bake apple pies often - but because it was her favorite scented candle - that and apple-spice or pumpkin-spice. All in the pie category. Our kitchen was almost always bathed in the smells of those candles. And the kitchen - is what I associate with home.

The kitchen not only smelled the most like home because of the candles - it also immersed itself in the smell of laundry. The laundry room was only a few paces away from the kitchen island I often parked myself at morning, noon and night.
I love laundry day. It means there won't be any searching for clothes in the morning and it means clean towels after my shower -- and best of all -- clean sheet night.

The taste that means home to me is undoubtedly Constant Comment tea. The smell and taste of that tea are exactly the same. You know how some things smell the way you hope they taste - or taste the way you wish they smelled? Constant Comment tea smells as great as it tastes and tastes exactly how it smells.

I found myself rummaging through my cupboards for that tea a few days ago -missing home and just wanting to have some piece of home - some tangible evidence that it exists how I remember it. Much to my chagrin I had run out of that tea back in March - when I drank it at least once a day for two weeks of overwhelming longing for home and for snow.

How interesting humans are - associating smells and tastes with places we used to live, times in our lives, and people we miss.

I meant to say...

I have an incredibly odd tendency to answer questions with "I'm tired" or "Man I'm hungry" even when I'm not.

It is this strange, uncontrolled urge to tell people I am one of those two things. I say it and then I think - no I'm not... why did I just say that?

I feel like we all do that - say what is easy and socially appropriate to some extent. Just like when someone asks you in passing "Hey how's it goin'?" - passing them on the sidewalk you are never going to answer "Absolutely awful - and you?" The reality is "how's it goin'?" is asked with the expectation of an answer such as "Great" or "doin well" or something of the like. If you answer anything else - it is officially awkward for the other person to keep walking. You have just implied that they should stop and ask WHAT it is that is going awful.

People ask a lot of questions they don't expect answers to. Some examples:

"Would you come over here?" - that implies action, they don't want a real answer... what if you just answered - "Nope can't do it - against my moral principles..." - that would be frustrating.

"Could you be any slower?" - communicating you need to hurry up, no one cares if you really COULD move faster...

Or forget questions... think about our weird phrases...

"The proof is in the puddin'" - what proof was ever or ever will be in pudding anyhow?

"Yeah, when pigs fly" - why did we choose pigs? Are we somehow discriminatory towards other barnyard animals...

or "holy cow" for that matter - why a cow?

We randomly pick animals for phrases - I just want to know why THOSE animals when we have so many more to choose from - how funny would "holy platypus" be or "yeah when chimp's fly" then we could argue that chimps kind of did fly... well not chimps but some form of primate - in The Wizard of Oz... although I feel like the plot of a totally trippy movie is much of an argument.

I wonder if people just start making up phrases to see how ridiculous they can be - while still catching on -- spreading like wild fire.

Case and point: "that's hot..."

Damn Paris Hilton - you got us. We are JUST dumb enough as a nation to jump on the "stupid phrase" train.

whoooo whooooooooooooooooooo here comes the group-think express.

Short Term Memory Loss

With the rapid fire of American culture - so heartily embraced by the youth of tomorrow - are we losing the ability to retain information?

Who knows the effects of our cram-style educationg and ineffective reading abilities LONG TERM (I am going to put money on our generation only remembering things we saw on TV 20 years from now - and a few of us having the ability to recall events of historical significance.) But my greater concern at the present - why can't we remember things that just happened?

If my short term memory is this bad now what will I be like at 80? I mean, personally, I think getting old is a pretty sweet gig. You start to smell funny, you say strange things, your hair turns grey, you have permission to wear incredibly comfortable outfits, and you get discounts at trendy places like "Ihop" and "Denny's."

**Although I will have you know I don't eat at Denny's. They were an acknowledged racist establishment for years before the big guys realized the chain wouldn't survive if they didn't adjust their policies. My parents wouldn't let us eat there as kids and I still hold a grudge against Denny's thanks to my Mom. Forgive and forget - for hate crimes - never - it's the Branaman way.** ha

But no matter how cool I think getting old is - I am not looking forward to having an even harder time finding my keys in the morning and forgetting over and over I already told all my friends that story about the penguin that bit me at the zoo.

It isn't just things like losing my keys and retelling old stories - it's the little things - like this morning when I realized I had uncapped three of the same pens - because I forgot I was already using one. And now they sit here on my desk - staring at me as a reminder of my inadequate mind.

And here's my theory of the day: advertising and entertainment has made our minds even weaker. It saw the window of opportunity: Americans don't want to wait for ANYTHING so let's play to their fantasies of instant gratification. Movies have become one big action scene - dialogue is of little importance - I mean HELLO we can't wait for things to blow up while people talk. Commercials can be skipped thanks to wonderful products like DVR and Tivo. We have things like instant coffee so we don't even have to wait for it to brew! For God's sake - we wait for NOTHING! If our orders at McDonald's or Starbucks take more than a few moments at the window we get all indignant and pissed off.

"Damnit barista - I need my quad-tall-sugar free-light foam-half hazelnut-half vanilla-latte NOW - my show is about to be done recording on Tivo at home! I need to get back! Could you hurry up already! If I wanted to take my sweet time I could have come inside to talk and read and sip and shit!"

We are a strange and dimented generation.

I will say - I love me some speedy Starbucks though. I'm a disgrace to hippies fighting big-coffee everywhere.

Questions

I've featured one other conversation between my Mom and little brother Luke before... here's another great one from two years ago when he was 7. M = Mom and L = Luke.

My Mom was too busy to entertain me this afternoon with an e-mail so I went digging through the e-mails I have archived from her - to try and amuse myself. And I came across this. Far better than any e-mail about how great I AM from my Mom.

L: Mom, why is it raining all the time?
M: Yeah, it does seem to be raining a lot lately.
L: Mom, why did God invent velcro?
M: (barely a moment of silence, as Mom ponders)
L: Mom, why did God invent mosquitos?
M: (not even a split second of silence)
L: And why do people paint their houses brown?
L: When Stormy dies, can we get a gecko?
L: And why did God invent snakes? Why do people kill snakes, just for fun? It's not like anyone's boss says, "Here, go kill all these snakes and while you're at it, take a bunch of baby sharks out of the ocean and put them in jars and line them up on a shelf and sell them for decorations. No one does that."
M: Are you remembering the souvenir shop in Texas?
L: Yeah, that was just mean. People killing snakes to make little bags out of them and putting baby sharks in jars. Baby sharks don't eat people or anything.
M: That makes you sad.
L: Yeah, and why is it raining all the time . . . .
M: Well, here we are at school . . . see ya this afternoon!

Worthless

There are things that we don't even know how to do anymore simply because...

well ... we don't have to know them anymore.

Example: I cannot figure out how to use the headlights in cars anymore. I am so accustomed to automatic headlights that I have no idea how to find them when they are manual -- or turn them on or off when I get in a new car.

Another example: I simply don't know how to work a REAL camera. I am so accustomed to digital and automatic cameras that I have never had to learn how to work a manual - never had to learn how to adjust the lens for the perfect photograph.

And there are so many more!

Who knows how to properly polish dress shoes anymore? Who knows how to sew a button back on a shirt?

I realized I didn't know if there were different rules for dialing cell phones and house phones today. Apparently you can dial out for a cell phone - the area codes are some different class than area codes for house phones. I didn't know that - I thought that people from Fort Worth with cell phones would have 817 area codes... is that not the case? I'm so confused.

I realized I have no idea how to use hot rollers either. Something that almost all women used daily for volume 25 years ago - I have no idea HOW to use them.

I don't know how to bake a pie or check the oil in a car - or can preserves. These are all things I wish I knew how to do!

How is it that we don't have classic literature passages and poetry memorized but we know all the lyrics to Baby Got Back by Sir-Mix a Lot....

How is it that some of my best friends can tell me the cast of the Real World from 2002 but can't tell me how to use the word respite in a sentence?

We are filled with useless information. We know how to bid with the best of them on e-bay and could demolish the competition in a pop-culture-knowledge-contest - but we don't know what's going on in the world or how to bake a pie!

I'm distraught - that much of our generation may prove to be... worthless. Especially me - what shall I do without the knowledge to use curlers or can preserves?

Paint-by-numbers

We used to have the opportunities to be our own Monet (or Picasso for some of us) every day. There are two "home grown" art forms that I think have been lost in the wood-work.

The first: the art of a proper breakfast.

I am a prime example of the disallusioned eggs and bacon Michelangelo. There was a day when the sun rising wasn't enough - when my morning didn't get rolling before I had my designated waffle, eggs, bacon, orange juice, milk and even, on occasion, fruit bowl (granted I was a delusional child who believed that those kinds of breakfasts should be expected from a busy Mom). Those were the days... Multiple plates and multiple glasses to start the day off right with a full stomach and nutrient absorption.

Obviously, these were also few days and far between - but they were what I thought breakfast meant. A time to sit down with Mom and eat what she had prepared - and prepared is an understatement. (Clearly, the days before full time employment monopolized her time and there were four kids to drive to four different schools in the AM.)

I don't know when it happened but I quickly saw the art of the perfect breakfast lose it's luster and sense of urgency. Breakfast became an exhilerating nutri-grain bar with a water bottle filled with to-go Crystal Light. And eventually I got sick of nutri-grain bars and moved to straight coffee by my senior year. Food was no longer a part of my morning routine.

Think about the business folks out there - the caffeine addicted Smiths and Johnsons who see the black sludge of the overworked Starbucks as their bacon and eggs? We're addicted to false highs of energy - caffeine to replace vitamins and fiber. "Womens 1 a day vitamins and a coffee - look at me - damn I'm good - I even have a cliff bar decaying somewhere in my purse if I feel that strange sensation the food network calls - hunger."

WHO ARE WE! We didn't give up on the art of breakfast because we are some highly developed critics hired by the Times or a new evolved lifeform who's phased out the need for food - we are just so concerned with speed that we've left the very stuff that gives us energy - in the dust.

Of course - I write this from my desk at work - coffee in hand - "fruit and nut power bagel" consumed in a record breaking 3 minutes - disgusted by how much I dislike breakfast these days. Really - it's a crying shame.

The second art form: the art of gift-giving.

We are commercialized paint-by-numbers gift-givers. This is something I struggle with every birthday and Christmas. I see no point in shopping for "anything" just to give "something." I feel the need to be inspired if I am going to buy a gift and honestly, it gets me in trouble. I'm that kid that shows up with no present - that everyone thinks forgot - but in reality - I just couldn't think of the RIGHT thing to get that person. And I would much rather wait until inspiration strikes on some street corner 2 months from the designated birthday celebration than give them ANOTHER scented lotion or candle in my entirely UN-unique gift bag and tissue bought at random due to their sale price at Target.

How different would holidays and birthdays be if EVERYONE gave something that really mattered to the receiver?

Great example: yesterday was a good friend of mine's birthday. She came home from work in a flustered mess of flowers, assorted bags and other birthday-what-nots from the day. But the one present - the one she talked about and was the most excited about - was from her Grandmother. Her Mom and Grandma had driven three hours to take her out to lunch - so that her Grandma could give her the present.

She was presented with a single strand pearl necklace. The first gift her husband, Laura's grandfather, had ever given her grandma.

Now that - is an art. That is a gift that means more than any Forever 21 outfit or ipod could.

If only everyone was as good as Laura's grandma.

Granted - for our friends and distant relatives there won't always be the incredibly meaningful gift to give. There won't always be the pearl necklace to pass on. All I suggest to the general public is this: give something that has meaning. Something that connects you and the gift's receiver. Something that will touch them beyond the gift's monetary value and trend factor.

Our technique is all sloppy - we've got to work on the strokes.

The giggles

There are certain things that happen that for whatever reason tickle me. Silly - stupid - random little things that just give me the giggles.

You know when a little kid starts to laugh at absolutely nothing - when they say something that they think is one of the funniest things ever? That is how I am sometimes.

There were times in high school when I would be sitting in history class - learning about one of our founding fathers and all that they did to further the development of the light grey powdered wig instead of the dark grey powdered wig (or something of equal importance) - and I would just start laughing. Not laughing like a "haha" kind of laugh but a "teehee" kind of laugh.

Giggling - to myself - all because I thought of something that just ... tickled me. Something that I thought was positively hilarious but if I explained it - wouldn't be to anyone else. And it wasn't just history class - it was any class - that can be embarassing in science class when discussing cancer cells ("Alexis what's so funny about cancer?" "Oh nothing - it's not you or the cancer lecture - it's just me imagining if you suddenly ran across the room and jumped out the window screaming I'm free I'm free!" yeah... that would go over well).

I have a theory: I have random, intense releases of serotonin - affecting my nervous system and making me feel weird waves of extreme happiness and essentially giddiness. I have no way to prove my theory - but it makes sense. Either that or it's random releases of endorphins that give me inappropriate amounts of energy that manifest themselves in laughter.

If they could just harness the power of my strange "happy times" I could cure depression. I am the missing link! (but only if my theory is right and they find a way to harness my power... damn...)

There are movies too - movies that just get me for whatever reason - have me giggling beyond my own control - tearing up I think they're so funny. Monsters Inc. can be one of those movies. The little girl just toddling around - in her weird little fake monster constume - makes me laugh. The things she says and does - make me laugh.
SHE'S AN ANIMATED CHARACTER! How do they do THAT? How do they make people - in general - laugh at the facial expressions and actions of a character created on the computer? That is amazing.

Maybe I'm just easily amused.

I went a comedy club once - and the guy was just hilarious - and I started to laugh - not the kind of "oh ha I'll give you a courtesy laugh - you poor poor comedian" but the full on - "I cannot control the volume of my laughter" kind of laugh. And if you haven't heard - I have a bit of a ridiculous laugh. One that echoes - and to be honest has been accused of sounding rather inappropriate as I gasp for air and get higher and higher pitched. Well after a few minutes of my laughter the comedian looks up --- looks around and just says


"OK who's stepping on the puppy?"


Really? Yes a comedian just likened my laugh to a puppy being stepped on. Now isn't that cute

.

Amusement

An interaction between my 9 year old brother and my mother. I cannot explain to you the absurd, hilarious comedy that IS my family.

Mom: What do you want for breakfast: raisin toast, raisin bran, or a pop tart?

Luke: It doesn't matter, if you're going to make me wear shorts, I might as well stop eating anyway.

Mom: Luke, the shorts look fine, and its field day and that's not a day to wear jeans, especially when it's going to be 92 degrees this afternoon.

Luke: Mom, I hate shorts. I always wear jeans. I hate shorts. I don't want to wear these.

Mom: Luke, you're wearing shorts, that's final. Now, pick something. What do you want for breakfast.

Luke: FINE! I'll have an order of no choices with a side of DEPRESSION!!!

Desk Jobs

An interesting idea - the desk job.

Put someone in a chair - some with lumbar support, some with massage capabilities, some with ugly stains from former employees - and cozy them up with a desk for up to 8 hours a day.

Seat them in over-lit cubes with computers to entertain them for hours and expect them to accomplish things.

Has the working world neglected to keep with the times - how are we to be at all productive when we have iphones, youtube, facebook and blogs to entertain us?

"Shall I work on these reports for Wednesday or see what this youtube my sister e-mailed me is..."

Tough choice.

I'm not entirely sure what my purpose is when I come sit in the office. Site visits makes sense, lunch appointments are productive, phone calls and e-mails can be ground breaking... but when I'm sitting in the office and supposed to work on reports or updates or projections - all on my own volition - I find myself starting a blog.

Talking to myself - writing out thoughts - with the hysterical notion that anyone will read it.

Respite:
Part of Speech: v
Definition: to postpone, delay
Etymology: Latin respectus 'looking back'
Usage: transitive

That's what this is for me - a postpone; a delay of my daily routine. Perhaps it will be for someone else someday.