Saturday, February 11, 2012

the weirdness of small things

I have these strange thoughts all the time, and they make me wonder if I am, in fact, a legitimate crazy person. Or if other people spend their thoughts like this sometimes, too.

The excitement of the first day of school is like mom's house, and the excitement of the last day of school is like dad's house. It's the opposite once you get to college.

Feeling sick with the stomach flu feels completely vertical, while a fever and sore throat feels nothing but horizontal.

Every time I eat french fries, I picture an old old boss of mine, Liz, mentoring me. Do they taste good? Are they nice to eat? Do you enjoy them and want more? And in my head I tell her yes yes yes. And she says "then you're not sick."

Shadows are the puzzle pieces that will never fit.

Old people can see into my soul.

Saturdays will always wear shin guards and drink Sunny Delight...whether it's raining outside or not.

When life is like rock and roll it can make or break your achy heart. Sometimes you are gliding across bass strings at alarming speeds and the low rumble is glorifying. Sometimes you are crowd surfing while on a motorcycle and it somehow makes you feel very feminine. Other times all you can see is a sweaty, skinny old guy on a stage with disgusting long hair and nails who is addicted to drugs.

A sea turtle man is the type of man who used to be a beach boy, and now he is permanently tan. He wears hibiscus flower button ups every day. He is obsessed with cooking steak dinners and slow dancing around the kitchen with his wife. He gives her a romantic dip and her leg kicks up as they sloppily kiss. Her foot kicks the spoon out of the chocolate batter and falls to the floor and all they can do is laugh, while their fat son plays legos. These types of guys work at Novell and live in Spanish Fork. They listen to R.E.M. They have nothing to do with anything and I'm unsure if they actually exist although my friend's dad was one, I think.

A woman in a business suit and A line haircut is a symbol of infidelity. Not because women in business suits can't be trusted. Only the ones with A-line hair cuts. I don't have any personal experience, however.

Every once in a while, this certain feeling will creep up on you and there is no avoiding it. It's kind of like a deja vu in nerdy glasses. It gives you an extreme pit in your stomach, and you suddenly feel embarrassed for absolutely everyone. It is inevitable that it will happen in the morning in a hotel room, as people are yawning and you hear anonymous itching underneath the covers. It also happens if people talk while brushing their teeth, especially if they are discussing plans and itineraries. It happens at Sunday dinner with the in-laws and used to happen on Saturday nights when I had curlers in my hair. But it can happen anytime, really, and you just have to weather it.

Adults are nothing but children when they flinch at noises in huge night gowns.

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