I refuse to beat a dead horse. In fact, I refuse to beat much of anything unless it involves eggs....
This horse is obviously dead, and I am going to walk away from it. I will not give it a funeral, I will not ask God, "Why?? Why did you have to take it from me???" I will not prepare an emotional eulogy in its memory. I will not blame myself. And I will not miss it, or spend any more time thinking about it. After all, how can you miss a horse you were never able to ride?
I take that back... I rode the horse way too quickly, and that is precisely what was the problem. The horse stopped and kicked the bucket, and I went flying head-first into the mud. It happened so fast, I barely knew what had gone wrong. Never start with a gallop... always a trot. A new horse can't take it that fast... No matter how well you think you ride.
No, I will not beat a dead horse. There are just too many stallions in this world...-M
Friday, September 19, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Designated Dialer
We've all done it. We've all been there. We've all opened our bloodshot eyes in the morning, still drunk, remembered it, and covered our faces with our hands and regretfully wondered, "WHY!!!!!?"
Yes. The "drunk dial" is one of those monsters that invades our fingertips after one too many. It has become so much easier to accomplish these days. Since the dawn of cellular telephones and personal computers, the frequency of drunk dials has multiplied exponentially. Now, with an address book in your phone, you don't have to remember someone's number when you're drunk. Hell, you don't even have to remember their name! Your phone takes care of that for you. Just hit a button, and you are free to spew all the stupid things out of your drunk mouth that you won't remember in the morning. If you keep some form of tact, you may just drunk text: A form of drunk dial, which similarly cannot be undone, but somehow makes you feel slightly better because the person didn't have to listen to your slurring. Then of course, there is always the drunk myspacing or facebooking. That is quite possibly the worst form of drunk dial. Not only does your dialee get the unfortunate message, but so do all of your friends AND their's. You spend the entire morning re-reading the messages wondering how they may be interpreted. You search the internet for ways to delete them when you know you can't. Like maybe facebook added a new feature while you were partying last night?
WARNING: Drunk dialing is habit forming and not recommended for regular use. Can lead to serious anxiety, heart palpitations, and in some rare cases can cause depression. Please contact a friend immediately if symptoms occur.
Did I drunk dial last night? Yes. Did I drunk dial the night before last? Yes. Will I drunk dial tonight? Quite possibly. -M
Yes. The "drunk dial" is one of those monsters that invades our fingertips after one too many. It has become so much easier to accomplish these days. Since the dawn of cellular telephones and personal computers, the frequency of drunk dials has multiplied exponentially. Now, with an address book in your phone, you don't have to remember someone's number when you're drunk. Hell, you don't even have to remember their name! Your phone takes care of that for you. Just hit a button, and you are free to spew all the stupid things out of your drunk mouth that you won't remember in the morning. If you keep some form of tact, you may just drunk text: A form of drunk dial, which similarly cannot be undone, but somehow makes you feel slightly better because the person didn't have to listen to your slurring. Then of course, there is always the drunk myspacing or facebooking. That is quite possibly the worst form of drunk dial. Not only does your dialee get the unfortunate message, but so do all of your friends AND their's. You spend the entire morning re-reading the messages wondering how they may be interpreted. You search the internet for ways to delete them when you know you can't. Like maybe facebook added a new feature while you were partying last night?
WARNING: Drunk dialing is habit forming and not recommended for regular use. Can lead to serious anxiety, heart palpitations, and in some rare cases can cause depression. Please contact a friend immediately if symptoms occur.
Did I drunk dial last night? Yes. Did I drunk dial the night before last? Yes. Will I drunk dial tonight? Quite possibly. -M
Friday, September 12, 2008
"Patience is a Virtue"
She awoke in her usual groggy state and wondered why her internal alarm clock had no "off" button. The feeling of jetlag minus the jet was overwhelming, a desire to sleep without success, and realized it was a symptom of her new temporary career. Serving drinks to drunks deep into the night was not glorious by any means. But it was her ticket to get her where she needed to go. She would put up with it for now. She would forget the events of her last weekend that drove her to tears and one step away from walking out the door. She would keep her head held high, and in her thickening skin, she would continue to do what she needed to do.
"I could sleep more," she thought. "Or, maybe…." She hopped out of bed, excited at the ideas flying through her head of how she would spend her coveted few hours before returning to the place that barely paid her bills. She threw on her unused bikini beneath a sundress. She packed a small lunch so as to save money, grabbed a beach towel, a fashion magazine, some sun block, and headed toward the subway. She certainly was not going to squander her precious time away in her bed when it could be spent enjoying the gorgeous Sunday morning in Central Park.
She rode the subway solo, sitting on an orange seat and thought the color scheme of the cars was extremely outdated. She read the back of a newspaper that a woman was holding across from her. She glanced out the window as the train slowed through the tunnel noticing the lit portions surrounding scaffolding and was fascinated with the idea of mole-like people that called the subway tunnels their home. Her iPod played music that seemed to underscore the experience perfectly. Clutching her purse close to her body, she shoved her wallet to the bottom to be safe, snapped the purse shut, and starred at the floor and put on her "New York" face.
The train pulled in to 5th Ave. She so wished she had the money to fully take advantage of the famous avenue, but knew that wasn't what was important. She was healthy, moderately happy, and ready for her impromptu picnic, even if it was alone.
She exited the subway and plowed through the tourists who seemed to walk with blindfolds over their eyes. She appeared to be a REAL New Yorker, walking with a purpose, but in actuality, she had no clue where she was going to have this magical picnic. She barely knew the park in all of its expansiveness... but was assured that some small patch of grass awaited her company.
She found the pond with ease and decided to sit beneath the tree in the shade. She had intended to get sun, but changed her mind when she considered the wrinkles that she had overanalyzed in the mirror a few days before. She placed her towel neatly on the grass, sat down, grabbed her magazine, and happily turned up her iPod.
As she ate her lunch, she glanced around at her fellow park goers. Tourists traded places as they posed and prepared for the perfect picture. Couples strolled hand in hand and latte in hand. Mothers pushed strollers with a parade of toddlers behind them. Dogs happily ran about the grass always obediently returning to their best friend for recognition and she sat alone on a beach towel that reminded her of a time earlier in her life that she barely even knew anymore.
Two beautiful things happened just then. A family decided upon the same area for a picnic. As the mother and eldest daughter chose the place behind the very tree she had chosen, the younger children played tag as if they were the only ones in the park. She watched them and remembered a time when she would play with her brothers in a similar fashion. Just then, she caught eyes with the toddler who had barely escaped her brother's grasp. She smiled at the little girl. The toddler toddled closer to her, with a large smile on her face and the brother watched as little girl approached her. When the toddler reached the perimeter of her towel, she stopped and held up her tiny hand, and she did the same, touching her, palm to palm. It was hard to imagine that her hand had been that tiny at one point in her life. She said goodbye and smiled at the mother as the brother carried the little girl away.
For a brief moment, she longed to be a mother. She also longed to be a child again....
As she finished her lunch, something caught her eye in the small patch of dirt beside her towel where the little girl had approached her. She looked closer and realized it was a penny that had been buried for who knows how long. She wondered who had left her this lucky penny. She reached over, dusted it off, and thought to herself that this could be the very penny, the very thing, which could bring her the fortune she needed to help her succeed in New York.
For a brief moment, she saw herself taking a bow on a Broadway Stage. She also saw her family in the audience applauding her success.
She laughed to herself for her belief in superstitions and threw the penny into the bottom of her purse. She glanced at her watch and knew that it was time to head home and get ready for work. She was happy she had taken the time to be spontaneous. Otherwise, she would have missed the experience with the little girl, and may never have happened upon the lucky penny.
As she traveled home to Queens, a place that did not have any semblance of royalty, she considered the two experiences in the park. Her dreams of success in her career and for a family were in the forefront of her mind. They seemed worlds away, especially as she rode away from Broadway…alone in a subway car. But she was fortunate enough to have been born with the virtue of patience. That, paired with determination, would make anything possible. She smiled, and decided to look forward to what was to come. -M
"I could sleep more," she thought. "Or, maybe…." She hopped out of bed, excited at the ideas flying through her head of how she would spend her coveted few hours before returning to the place that barely paid her bills. She threw on her unused bikini beneath a sundress. She packed a small lunch so as to save money, grabbed a beach towel, a fashion magazine, some sun block, and headed toward the subway. She certainly was not going to squander her precious time away in her bed when it could be spent enjoying the gorgeous Sunday morning in Central Park.
She rode the subway solo, sitting on an orange seat and thought the color scheme of the cars was extremely outdated. She read the back of a newspaper that a woman was holding across from her. She glanced out the window as the train slowed through the tunnel noticing the lit portions surrounding scaffolding and was fascinated with the idea of mole-like people that called the subway tunnels their home. Her iPod played music that seemed to underscore the experience perfectly. Clutching her purse close to her body, she shoved her wallet to the bottom to be safe, snapped the purse shut, and starred at the floor and put on her "New York" face.
The train pulled in to 5th Ave. She so wished she had the money to fully take advantage of the famous avenue, but knew that wasn't what was important. She was healthy, moderately happy, and ready for her impromptu picnic, even if it was alone.
She exited the subway and plowed through the tourists who seemed to walk with blindfolds over their eyes. She appeared to be a REAL New Yorker, walking with a purpose, but in actuality, she had no clue where she was going to have this magical picnic. She barely knew the park in all of its expansiveness... but was assured that some small patch of grass awaited her company.
She found the pond with ease and decided to sit beneath the tree in the shade. She had intended to get sun, but changed her mind when she considered the wrinkles that she had overanalyzed in the mirror a few days before. She placed her towel neatly on the grass, sat down, grabbed her magazine, and happily turned up her iPod.
As she ate her lunch, she glanced around at her fellow park goers. Tourists traded places as they posed and prepared for the perfect picture. Couples strolled hand in hand and latte in hand. Mothers pushed strollers with a parade of toddlers behind them. Dogs happily ran about the grass always obediently returning to their best friend for recognition and she sat alone on a beach towel that reminded her of a time earlier in her life that she barely even knew anymore.
Two beautiful things happened just then. A family decided upon the same area for a picnic. As the mother and eldest daughter chose the place behind the very tree she had chosen, the younger children played tag as if they were the only ones in the park. She watched them and remembered a time when she would play with her brothers in a similar fashion. Just then, she caught eyes with the toddler who had barely escaped her brother's grasp. She smiled at the little girl. The toddler toddled closer to her, with a large smile on her face and the brother watched as little girl approached her. When the toddler reached the perimeter of her towel, she stopped and held up her tiny hand, and she did the same, touching her, palm to palm. It was hard to imagine that her hand had been that tiny at one point in her life. She said goodbye and smiled at the mother as the brother carried the little girl away.
For a brief moment, she longed to be a mother. She also longed to be a child again....
As she finished her lunch, something caught her eye in the small patch of dirt beside her towel where the little girl had approached her. She looked closer and realized it was a penny that had been buried for who knows how long. She wondered who had left her this lucky penny. She reached over, dusted it off, and thought to herself that this could be the very penny, the very thing, which could bring her the fortune she needed to help her succeed in New York.
For a brief moment, she saw herself taking a bow on a Broadway Stage. She also saw her family in the audience applauding her success.
She laughed to herself for her belief in superstitions and threw the penny into the bottom of her purse. She glanced at her watch and knew that it was time to head home and get ready for work. She was happy she had taken the time to be spontaneous. Otherwise, she would have missed the experience with the little girl, and may never have happened upon the lucky penny.
As she traveled home to Queens, a place that did not have any semblance of royalty, she considered the two experiences in the park. Her dreams of success in her career and for a family were in the forefront of her mind. They seemed worlds away, especially as she rode away from Broadway…alone in a subway car. But she was fortunate enough to have been born with the virtue of patience. That, paired with determination, would make anything possible. She smiled, and decided to look forward to what was to come. -M
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