When Life Dulls

Life can easily become routine and seemingly mundane. Life is long, hopefully, and time is even longer, hopefully. So, what to do when life becomes dull? Well, simple, make some food.

Not just any food, now. Don’t look on the Internet for recipes or talk to your friends about dishes they last made so to mimic them. No, just make something (or, if that’s too much for an organized person, zest up an old recipe randomly and uniquely).

But to just make food or to just add ingredients to food, it’s exciting. Have some left overs from that random time you went out to eat – are they starting to look less and less appetizing? Well, throw it into a frying pan, add some stuff from around the kitchen (like eggs or lemon juice or vodka) and cook it up. Sound gross? Might very well be, but at least you tried it.

Don’t have left overs? Well, you’ve food (hopefully), so whip it up! Take some rice, throw in some cooked tomatoes, maybe some peppers, even meat (if you like), add something juice/liquid wise and you’re set.

It’s all about artistic ability and living in the moment, adding a dash of this and a pinch of that. Some dishes will be disgusting, others will be amazing, and some will be in-between. But that’s why its exciting, because it’s an adventure.

Then there’s the adventure of altering the recipe – making a cake? Throw some rum on a part of it. Always wanted to know how that tastes. Making pasta? Try basting or marinating the noodles first. Enjoy spicy foods? Try cooking red and green peppers in the pan before or during the actual cooking of the meal.

Flavor is everything, remember.

Life is always a little more exciting when food is mysterious. Not mysterious in “am-I-going-to-get-food-poisoning” sort of way but just “is-this-going-to-make-me-drool-later-when-I-think-about-it?” No way life will loose its zeal if you’ve the possibility of making your taste buds orgasm.

No Sulking is Allowed in the Airport

Hugh Grant once said (in Love Actually, 2003), “Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport.” He sees the true love of the world when people greet each other at the airport.

While the thought is pleasant, and mildly true (I’ve never seen someone who isn’t happy to be greeted before), there are those who aren’t greeted. Those are random busybodies who meander through the groups with side glances and offhand checks of their cell-phone (that might or might not be off airplane mode).

It was this sight I was witness too when the god-like announcer voice of my state’s airport announced “No sulking is allowed in the airport, except in designated areas.” One quick glance to my father and a surprisingly loud voice of a little girl not five feet away from me confirmed I had heard that correctly. No sulking was allowed.

Nudging my father, who promptly rolled his eyes and said it was obviously a mistake, I couldn’t help but smiling. No sulking was allowed – it might’ve been a mistake or even a peculiar slur, but what’s said was said.

And a good rule it was. Airports aren’t generally happy places, except when you meet up with family or friends. They’re tedious, trying, and liable to bring on mental breakdowns. Especially when you watch the luggage trolley go around four times and your luggage is nowhere to be seen. So, to ban sulking is bound to enhance airport joy.

Well, no, not really. But its bound to be so utterly ridiculous sounding that it’ll spur tired and cranky passengers into their second winds.

Southwest Airlines used to do something similar by giving comical ‘Safety Instructions’ like, “Welcome aboard Southwest Flight XXX to YYY. To operate your seat-belt, insert the metal tab into the buckle, and pull tight. It works just like every other seat-belt, and if you don’t know how to operate one, you probably shouldn’t be out in public unsupervised.”

And, “”As you exit the plane, make sure to gather all of your belongings. Anything left behind will be distributed evenly among the flight attendants. Please do not leave children or spouses.

Last one off the plane must clean it.”

Airports are surprisingly dreary places and could use a lot more humor. They might be frustrating, and they might be tedious, but so are lines are Christmas or that randomly schedule family reunion. Those things end and so does traveling through the Airport.

So, liven up people and take the Airport with a grain of salt. And remember, no sulking!

Attacked by Frying Pans (Following Death)

This is a follow-up Post of The Grim Reaper’s Neighbor.

When it came to my attention that I didn’t know what happened to my Grim Reaper neighbor, I decided to revisit my old neighborhood. If I knew I was going to be attacked by a frying pan and nearly hit by a car, I don’t know if I would’ve bothered.

As it was, it happened. And I discovered several things in doing so.

One, my neighborhood is no longer my neighborhood. The cars were all wrong, the house colors too, and front yards didn’t have the right toys left out.

Two, all my old neighbors figured I was a criminal recently released from jail, going to jail, or (in the recluse with too many cats opinion) an escaped convict. I hadn’t realized I was such a charming child.

Three, old habits die really, really hard! And one of those is apparently getting into trouble and having near-death experiences.

Having left my old neighborhood nearly 10 years ago, I knew returning that the place wouldn’t be the same. In fact, I even wagered I would feel very much the stranger. I just didn’t realize the how much everyone else would view me as a stranger and distrust me for it.

So, when I came upon a crying little girl (who’d taken a spill from her bike) I didn’t realize the trouble I was walking into. Now, I didn’t act foolishly – in fact, I went against my natural Daycare-born instinct. I didn’t pick her up, I didn’t even touch her beyond helping her to her feet and holding her hand (and even then I kept a fairly loose hold and comfortable distance).

Unfortunately, by time I had gotten the girl down street toward her house her Mom had seen me. Maybe I look like a criminal (I mean, all my neighbors seem to think I am) or maybe I’m just naturally a suspicious looking person (though I work at a Daycare, so I can’t really vouch for that) but whatever the reason, the Mom panicked.

She grabbed the frying pan (apparently the closest thing at the moment) and went about a plan of attack – from behind. Clever mother, I must say. She didn’t run out the front door, screaming with the frying pan held high. No, she went out the back door, through a neighbor’s backyard, and came up behind us.

Then she yelled and threatened the frying pan. This scared the little girl who started crying all over again. Unaware it was her yelling that scared her daughter, the Mom continued yelling at me to let her girl go (who had clamped onto my hand) before taking a swing.

Luckily, I’ve read Harry Potter and knew to duck. Luckily, I’ve worked with little kids for 3 years now and knew how to get the girl’s hand off mine. Unfortunately, the girl wailed even louder and fell down, which drove her Mother to swing again.

That attack missed too but the rebound of it caught my left hand (which was frantically waving innocence by now) and knocked it pretty damn good. Swearing, I quickly stepped away as she clearly wound up again and tripped over the curb. The concrete painfully broke my fall and it felt like damaged wrist snapped.

Because the whole world was screaming around me – the Mom, the girl, and the pain of my left hand and now my bottom – I didn’t realize my most obvious danger until the screaming brakes were so close it was all I could hear.

Oh good lord! I’m going to die because of madwoman with a frying pan and a car! It was so pathetic!

I cringed, because that ‘deer-in-the-headlights’ paralysis was all too real (and no longer funny), and waited. The tap of metal to my cheek nearly made me pass out.

I’m alive–I’m friggin’ alive! Alive!  The car had manage to stop, a bloody miracle, and the Mom had stopped yelling. In fact, I think her eyes were wider than mine. And I was quick to notice she’d dropped the frying pan so to hold her hands to her mouth. 

She started to babble when the driver got out, so I just laid down and collected my thoughts. I’d just about died, or at least gravely injured. I hadn’t done that in years, not since I was 12 and I was thrown into a metal bench.  Bloody hell.

It wasn’t until I focused on the man standing over me that I realized the sheer irony that was now my life. It was my old neighbor, the Grim Reaper. And thus I became officially creeped. I don’t see him for 10 years and when I do, he’s nearly killing me with his car – that I wouldn’t have been in front of had I not been attacked by a frying pan! Ooh, the irony.

And he remembers me. Not as a criminal, however. After a brief talk with the Mom, with my participation this time, and my promise that I wasn’t going to press charges – strangers with your kids is always horrifying – I finally talked to the Grim Reaper.

I thanked him, for everything. When I was eight, all the little times in-between, and just now. My Grandma always said to thank the Grim Reaper if he should ever spare/save your life – it was only proper, seeing how it went against his nature.

Unfortunately, he was in a hurry and stayed long enough to ensure I was OK, dismiss my thanks, and mourn over the fact that I hadn’t escaped my tendencies to get into trouble. Once he was gone, I felt dizzy. I didn’t even know his real name still! Good lord, this man was creepy but awesome.

I, however, plan to leave it at that – I thanked Death and I’m satisfied. I refuse to return to that neighborhood in case I really die this time.

The Grim Reaper’s Neighbor

Growing up, I had a myriad of strange neighbors. From the angry magician with the shotgun (he’d do a magic trick for you then run you off his property),to the family that didn’t speak English (I almost blew my hand off with a firecracker at their house), and to the typical recluse with too many cats (he’d only venture out to spook children that would ding-dong-ditch him), we had everyone in our neighborhood.

We even had the Grim Reaper.

He wasn’t the recluse with too many cats and he wasn’t the angry magician, he was just my next-door neighbor. A man fun to ding-dong-ditch and the one who always gave out the best candy on Halloween. He was nice, in an aloof sort of way, but he was odd. Almost in a creepy way, when I think back on it.

 He was always there whenever something happened. My mom can tell dozens of stories of him walking me home when I was hurt or just after I’d gotten into trouble.

And that’s the creepy part about him and everything else. Whenever I was hurt, no matter where I was in the neighborhood, he was there. For no reason at all; he was just there.

It wasn’t until I was older and I had moved away that I began to refer to my neighbor as the Grim Reaper. Or rather, my friend suggested the idea when I told her about him.

See, there was this one time when I was out in the woods (behind my friend’s house) by myself. I had gone to work on our tree-house, which hadn’t taken the last thunderstorm too well. It was wet and humid and no one knew were I was exactly. Mom thought I was with my friend, and my friend thought I was with my Mom. No big deal. I was 8, I could handle myself.

That is, until one of the floorboards (which had rotted out over the years) gave out on me and I fell. Now, I’d fallen millions of times – that was part of being a kid. But I’d never fallen out of our tree-house, which was pretty high up, through a dozen little branches (which all snapped when I hit them) and landed on my shoulder (nearly my neck/head).

It hurt. I mean, it hurt bad. I couldn’t even breath it’d hurt so much. I couldn’t move either, which will freak anyone out (especially an 8-year-old kid).

This is where the story gets strange. The fall had dislocated my shoulder and my position was jamming it back up into my neck. There’s a couple of more technical things which had happened but I don’t remember them. The point is, the way I was laying and because of the state and position of my shoulder, I was strangling myself. (Or something to that effect.)

I don’t remember much, just a lot of burning pain in my throat, shoulder, and hungs. My head was wozzy too, and my nose felt like water had gone up it.

And then he, my neighbor, the Grim Reaper, was there. Out of nowhere, for no reason, he was just there. I hadn’t screamed, remember I couldn’t even breath, and no one knew I was out there…but he was there. He rolled me around, jostled my shoulder rather painfully, and then picked me up. (Obviously Death wasn’t a Medic, or he wouldn’t've done that).

I obviously hadn’t died but the doctor, at the ER, said I had come damn close to. But why was my neighbor there? The treehouse was in the woods behind my friends house, which is clear across the neighborhood from his house. And I wasn’t on the edge of the woods but a good ways in – you couldn’t see the house from the treehouse. I hadn’t screamed, because I couldn’t. And he’s wasn’t exactly out hiking in my friend’s backyard…

I hadn’t thought about it until my friend brought it up, but it was creepy. Who was this neighbor? Why did he find me that night? How did he find me? And why was he always there, just watching me? I can’t remember a time when I didn’t get hurt outside that he wasn’t there.

Maybe he was a guardian angel or maybe he was Death. But guardian angels aren’t supposed to be creepy and look like skeletons (he was really tall and skinny). But Death’s not supposed to protect you from dying…

Or maybe I just have nine lives. Whatever the reason, my neighbor looked like the Grim Reaper and, according to my friends (and me, I guess), acted oddly (almost like a confused Grim Reaper). Maybe he just liked me, he did always give me candy corn and none of my friend…

I don’t know though but I do know I had some odd neighbors. Everyone does, right?

The Life of Odd Facts

You ever wonder why you know some of the things that you do? Why, when people ask the some of the most random things you have (on occasion) been able to answer?

Where do these facts come from? What possessed you to learn them? Sure, in High School most of what you learned was trivia. Who fought in this battle and who wrote this book, well, those aren’t things critical to your everyday life and future. Unless you’re a History or English major or you’re on a Who Wants To Be a Millionaire, but that’s another story.

But what about the stuff you know that you didn’t pick up in High School? Like the life span of medieval men and women (average: 29 for man) or that Dai Vernon was the only magician to discover the secret to one of Harry Houdini’s tricks while Houdini was alive. How did this get into your head?

Is it from being bombarded with information every hour of the day? From radio, to advertisements, to t.v.? Or is it our friends, co-workers, and strangers (who already learned the trivia from other people) that spread the knowledge? Or maybe its just the internet, which is now a constant presence in our lives. Some of the most random stuff pops up on the internet.

And yet, to play both sides, does it matter? If you have trivia, it just means it was something worth remembering. Because how often do you keep something in your memory that you don’t want to remember?

So, the fact that punctuation didn’t come around in English until the12th century must mean more than that grammar test you failed in 9th grade.

And everyone knows statistics are fun to read and will usually stick in memory. Such as, 33 percent of people polled online believe that scratching a person’s vehicle is a more effective form of revenge than burning down their house.

So why do we have such trivial knowledge stuck in our minds? How come it stays, instead of going in one ear and out the other (like an order from a boss?) I don’t know, but what I can say is that everybody is learning more everyday because of everyday things, such as t.v and internet and print items.

And what we retain and what we don’t, well that depends on the person.

Abercrombie and Fitch – Moose Killer?

The first thing the costumer said was, “That moose is real!”

Why yessir, the moose is real. And that canoe was stolen from a small native American tribe in Oklahoma. Oh, and those mannequins are refurbished cadavers! You’re quite astute.

Abercrombie and Fitch is a clothing store, people. Nothing more and nothing less. In fact, that Hollister  store everyone loves over A&F is owned by A&F. That’s why all the clothing looks similar!

So why does everyone assume the worse of A&F? Its a clothing store, not a moose killing, canoe robbing store.

But, my friend (who works at A&F) has more costumers ask her if that moose’s head is real. Never-mind that its so obviously fake and that every other A&F has an identical looking head. Because, you know, all moose look a like. They’re all really, really big and really, really strong and harder than hell to kill – and completely identical. Oh and don’t forget, A&F has killed so many they’ve endangered the animal.

Hatred for A&F is amazing and its unique. How many people complain about American Eagle? Or The Buckle? They sell clothing that’s just as suggestive as A&F. In fact, JCPenny’s does. So what, they’ve pictures in of people half-clothed or not in the front. They’re a store and that’s advertising.  

They’re not hurting you or your family. But people hurt the store. Vandalize the posters in the front, steal piles of shirts, and accuse A&F of killing moose.

So, indeed, yessir – we kill moose and steal canoes and dress up refurbished cadavers. Not only do we kill moose, we kill all the identical ones. And all those canoes, we made sure to get them alike too. And those cadavers, well, we just about put enough layers on them to keep them from rigor mortis.

Welcome to the world of A&F.

Avatar: The Last Airbender Adult?

People say its taking the newer generations longer to grow up. That we’re not adults until we’re 25 or older, or at least we’re not ready to be adults.

But how can people say that when the themes and morals from young adult books, kid shows, and kid movies are getting more complex and more adult with every passing? How many kids read Harry Potter and were then accustomed to the idea of orphans, good, evil, friendship, death, and betrayal? The same can be said for Eragon readers or the Pendragon Journal readers.

Ideas of death, of friendship, of family, and of growing up and making the ‘right choice over the easy choice’ are overwhelming young adult entertainment.

Nickelodeon’s recently concluded amine show, Avatar: The Last Airbender, is a prime example of this. When a 12-year-old Aang, a young Air Bender (a bender is someone who can control one of the four elements: fire, earth, air, and water) discovers he is the Avatar, someone who can control all the elements, he’s forced to grow-up.

Something he initially fled from (for a 100 years by freezing himself into a ball of ice) but has to face when he wakes up to a world ruled and terrorized by the Fire Nation. Now its his job, his destiny, to restore balance and peace to the world (the four nations). That’s a big responsibility for a 12-yr-old boy, who just wants to play and have fun.

The three seasons/books of Avatar show Aang’s character development (from running and avoiding the inevitable to facing it and preparing for it). They also focus on Aang’s friends and enemies, who all come from different backgrounds with different views and ideas on life.

Aang’s two closest friends, Sokka and Katara, are members of an isolated water tribe whose mother was murdered by the Fire Nation and whose father is absent and fighting the Fire Nation. And Aang’s enemy, who later redeems himself, Prince Zuko (son of the Fire Lord Ozai), has been wounded and banished by his father (until he can regain his honor by capturing the Avatar).

With a shocking lack of parental figures, the Avatar brings up the ideas of independently working out your own issues, forming friendships with close bonds, understanding death and betrayal (as Aang had been frozen in an ice berg for a 100 years, so when he wakes up he does find his whole family gone/dead), and growing up in the right way.

Filled heavily with adult themes, such as finding refuge from the villains, making friends who you can trust, and even, in Aang’s case, finding a way to deal with killing someone (Fire Lord Ozai) romance and even war.

These can’t be themes and morals that slow down the growth of a generation! How many adults can say one of the phenomenal themes in their entertainment life was coming to terms with killing someone (like Aang or Harry Potter)? Or even, when Katara finds the murderer of her mom, does she extract revenge? 

I would almost say the coming generations are growing up too fast. There’s no real filter anymore, five-year-olds watch Transformers and Avatar and by ten, the kids know more about death and betrayal and friendship and growing up than 30-years-old do.

Its not Star Wars and Indiana Jones anymore that present themes and morals to the population, but cartoons and morning shows (which kids have all the access to because they’re supposed to).

But the question is, what’s too adult for kids and what’s too young for kids? How can there be a limit when what they’re presented with is so complex and so adult they’ll set for nothing else? And should we limit them? Is it easy to understand when you’re young than abruptly when you’re older?

The younger generations aren’t growing up too slow, but are they growing up too fast? Or right on time? 

Star Wars: The Force

I’m not a gamer, I am, however, a Star Wars fan (who didn’t bother to see Clone Wars), but when the new game Star Wars: The Force Unleashed came out I was fascinated.

Having only a PSP, which still yields brilliant graphics, I bought the game and played for more than two hours straight (something I’ve never done). I bore easily of games, or grow irritated because I am, by no means, a good gamer – which means I hear a lot of repetitive dialogue during fights because I take so damn long to win.

However, the game itself is wicked. With a helping hand from George Lucas, the game investigates the years between episodes III and IV with Darth Vader’s apprentice as the main character.

Having this game brought up my desire to re-watch the Star Wars movies and re-visit the controversy of the last of the series (the first filmed, of course) to the beginning of the series (the last filmed, of course).

My opinion of the first three movies is that the casting was done poorly. Anakin should’ve looked a little older in in the first one, another boy (teenager boy) should’ve played in the second movie, and Hayden Christensen was fine in the third (very good at playing angry). I know they worked to make the actors look younger, and did a reasonable job, but its hard to get passed the fact they arethe same actors. Natalie Portman was well-enough in II and III, but should’ve been another actress in the I.

How is it that Anakin, a boy who looks no older than 9 in I, can fall in love with Padme, who looks 17 or older? And then, ten years later, why does shelook the same age but Anakin is older, obviously.

Star Wars is a great movie but little technicalities should’ve been considered – just to make it more realistic and more appealing to the upcoming generations. Though I feel bad for them because they don’t get the delightful surprise of “I am your Father” because they already know that from episode III.

As it is, I have to admit that I’m glad Lucas is still brimming with ideas for Star Wars and that he’s publishing them in unique ways.

The Cola Wars

At first, I thought the whole affair was ridiculous. But how was I to know I’d just walked into a whole mess of trouble? I like to stir up trouble, not walk into it. All I wanted to know was why the newest employee (a girl from Ohio) kept getting made when I asked her if she wanted a Coke.

 How was I to know that was one of her biggest grievances in coming to Oklahoma? Everyone calling Pop ‘coke’? I was just curious. But I guess it’s like going to Norway and trying to get them to deliver you pizza – not gonna happen.

But, apparently, the whole Pop vs. Coke vs. Soda is quite a controversial issue. Not sure why, as its more of a trivia/informative fact than an argument, but alas people are interesting.

I managed to solve the trouble easily enough, by printing off this map that shows the distribution of the words by county. 120,464 people responded to the survey sent out before March 1, 2003 and revealed that a couple of states were as diverse at the rest of the country (while a few states are loyal to one word and one word only, seemingly).

Ohio is one of those States.

But, for me, the whole ‘Cola Wars’ idea is fascinating. If such demographics for words of beverages can divide the States, what other words do the same?

So, what do you say? Coke, Pop, Soda? Does it match up with the map? Or maybe its one of the words under the ‘Other’ section? Like soda-pop, cola, pepsi, fizzy beverage, drink, sody, etc.

For a full list of ‘Other’ click on the State names here: http://popvssoda.com:2998/stats/ALL.html

Pride and loyalty stand true for the more common words, pop, soda, and coke. My Ohio friend likes to say that the only true word is Pop, and us Southerns in Oklahoma have is wrong for it can’t be coke (what with there being other brands) and New England too and California because ’soda’ is too snotty.

Funy how words can stir up such reactions.

The Chaos

ATTENTION! We’ve breaking news – the year has gone and gotten lost! Yes, lost. And now, having lost structure, time is collapsing; years are bombarding each other, months are going rapid, weeks are smutty, and days are off floundering around.

Europe has lost the night, Brazil claims to be selling saviors that look suspiciously like mongooses, Coach believes that purses can talk, New York has turned to the left of Vermont, and Hawaii is swimming away.

Superman lost the ability to fly, mid-flight, and his body hasn’t been found. Sherlock Holmes has been kidnapped by Auguste Duplin. King Arthur fell through the White Rabbit’s hole, colliding into a bemused William Shakespeare. Together they trotted off, in search of the golden ticket, and haven’t been seen since.

Other people have gone missing, ones not worthy enough to be mentioned, and others, non-existent before, have appeared. Yet, impossibly, all those from the lost year have somehow faded in and out of existence, speaking but not speaking, warning but joking.

Captain Nemo is caught under the sea, covered by thousands of octopuses that are dying for his autograph. Don Quixote is trying to gather up protégés while insisting that a decree is pursued to put all windmills under house arrest.

Days are awkwardly missing at times. Wednesday is fascinated with Norway and usually Friday has to bring it back. Tuesday and Thursday are often caught dancing in wishing wells, and Monday talks non-stop. Sunday and Saturday have run off together and a search party organized by March is pricking and prodding through Iron Man’s liar.

September freed Professor Plum and Miss Scarlett from Clue and Christmas keeps chasing them off from Monopoly.

Doctor Who has come and gone, seeing the situation as unsalvageable. Harry Potter joined with Bella from Twilight to find Mr. Darcy, who ran away with August.

And January has decided to run off the world’s edge – a suicide that brings the world skidding to a halt.

WHIMPER!

And so the world ended, not with a bang but a whimper (just as T.S. Eliot predicted).