Campfyre Stories

"Perfect" is subjective.  Everyone has their own idea of what constitutes perfect and, often, it’s different for various situations.  I think, though, that everyone has a fairly-well defined concept of "perfect".

No drama, no conflict, no damage, no missteps.  Does that sound perfect to you?  Not to me.  To me, that sounds boring.  I don’t think I could live a happy life where things didn’t EVER go wrong.  The bottom line is that when bad things happen, that’s when you reevaluate, adapt and change.  If nothing ever went bad, there would never be any motivation to change, only stagnation and that’s pretty far from perfect I think.

I’ve know people who had the stereotypical perfect life and they were miserable in it.  I’ve had situations that were perceived as perfect, but made me miserable because there was nothing interesting going on.

I live an interesting life.  Things happen regularly that are unusual or even downright bizarre, but I wouldn’t change that even if I could.  I thrive on random occurrances, even if they are a little embarassing or inconvenient.

I’m prone to telling people that I’m not happy unless I have something to complain about.  It’s absolutely true.  The rare occassions where things are going so well that I actually have nothing to complain about, I complain about how disconcerting it is that nothing has gone wrong in a while and how I’m waiting for the bad to happen.  I kid you not.  There are plenty of people who can attest to this.

So what is perfect?  For me, perfect is understandable and makes sense.  Perfect is a moment in time where everything falls into place and brings with it a feeling of completion.  Perfect is the moment just before a first kiss when you’re still quivering with anticipation.  It’s the moment just after completing a long, difficult project when you take a deep breath and say "I did it" before anyone else can say a word.  Perfect is having a secret or, better yet, an in-joke that comes up in a broader conversation and the perfect moment is the knowing smile, nod or wink that the two of you share quiely, without anyone else noticing.

Perfect is small and fleeting.  It can’t be captured, only stumbled upon.  If you look for it, you’ll spend your life chasing rainbows, but if you stay alert, you’ll find it regularly, and often where you least expect it.

I think that’s the problem.  So many people are pursuing an ideal of perfection that not only does not, but cannot exist.  They’re looking for something that perhaps fits their definition of perfection, but that would turn out to be exceedingly flawed if they ever happened to find it.  For these people, the perfect house would never need repairs, instead of having the right number of rooms, a beautiful lawn and low energy costs.  For these people, the perfect mate would never do anything annoying, would always have the ability to read minds and would never create or allow conflict within the relationship.  For these people, the perfect children wouldn’t have minds of their own, they would do everything their parents told them and would never misbehave.

I wonder how many people truly believe that that concept of perfect actually exists in reality.  Far too many certainly believe in the possibility, enough so that they make themselves miserable for not having achieved perfection on any of those fronts.  I have to wonder whether or not they’re missing out on the perfect moments in the search for something greater than themselves.

While I look for perfection in small ways, or, more accurately, look for more perfection or to fill the gaps, I still find comfort in the perfect moments as they come.  Fleeting though they may be, they do come often enough to remind me that perfection can and does exist, if only in small ways.

Snagged from Princess:

These are the top 106 books most often marked as "unread" by LibraryThing’s users. As in, they sit on the shelf to make you look smart or well-rounded. Bold the ones you’ve read, italicize the owns you own but have not read.

Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
Anna Karenina
Crime and Punishment
Catch-22
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Wuthering Heights
The Silmarillion
Life of Pi : a novel
The Name of the Rose
Don Quixote
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Madame Bovary
The Odyssey
Pride and Prejudice
Jane Eyre (start, stop, start over, stop, ad infitium)
The Tale of Two Cities
The Brothers Karamazov
Guns, Germs, and Steel: the fates of human societies
War and Peace
Vanity Fair
The Time Traveler’s Wife
The Iliad
Emma
The Blind Assassin
The Kite Runner
Mrs. Dalloway
Great Expectations
American Gods (I adore everything by Neil Gaiman)
A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
Atlas Shrugged
Reading Lolita in Tehran : a memoir in books
Memoirs of a Geisha (saw the movie, intend to read the book)
Middlesex
Quicksilver
Wicked : the life and times of the wicked witch of the West
The Canterbury Tales (when I was far too young and have since forgotten all of it except for the tedious experience)
The Historian : a novel
A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
Love in the Time of Cholera (saw the movie, NO INTENTION of reading the book)
Brave New World
The Fountainhead
Foucault’s Pendulum
Middlemarch
Frankenstein
The Count of Monte Cristo
Dracula
A Clockwork Orange
Anansi Boys (another Gaiman, own and read repeatedly)
The Once and Future King
The Grapes of Wrath (AP American History FTL)
The Poisonwood Bible : a novel (for some reason I think I’ve read this, but I’m not really sure…)
1984 (quite possibly my favorite book ever)
Angels & Demons
The Inferno
The Satanic Verses
Sense and Sensibility
The Picture of Dorian Gray
Mansfield Park
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
To the Lighthouse
Tess of the D’Urbervilles
Oliver Twist
Gulliver’s Travels
Les Misérables
The Corrections
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Dune
The Prince
The Sound and the Fury
Angela’s Ashes : a memoir
The God of Small Things
A People’s History of the United States : 1492-present
Cryptonomicon
Neverwhere (own, read repeatedly, another Gaiman, also own the BBC miniseries that was written by Gaiman and upon which he based the novel)
A Confederacy of Dunces (I really want to read this, but keep forgetting)
A Short History of Nearly Everything
Dubliners
The Unbearable Lightness of Being
Beloved
Slaughterhouse-five
The Scarlet Letter
Eats, Shoots & Leaves
The Mists of Avalon
Oryx and Crake : a novel
Collapse : how societies choose to fail or succeed
Cloud Atlas
The Confusion
Lolita
Persuasion
Northanger Abbey
The Catcher in the Rye
On the Road
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Freakonomics : a rogue economist explores the hidden side of everything
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance : an inquiry into values
The Aeneid
Watership Down (own the movie and have seen it many times)
Gravity’s Rainbow
The Hobbit
In Cold Blood : a true account of a multiple murder and its consequences (11th grade, final English reading project)
White Teeth
Treasure Island
David Copperfield
The Three Musketeers

I don’t know, seems like that’s not too bad.

This is not worth reading.  It’s not worth your time and the subject line is VERY accurate.  It’s a whole lot of me whining and I seriously considered password protecting it.  In the interest of having nothing to hide, I changed my mind on that front, but still, really, don’t bother.

Finish Reading »

See?  This is why I don’t wear white if I can avoid it.

So I went to dinner with Slockin on Saturday night.  Dinner and beer was the plan for the evening.  Spawn decided to stay home, play God of War and order pizza.  Now many, but by no means all of my friends have at least one story of me doing something incredibly dumb.  Sure, I mean, they’ve all heard about the time I fell in a hole, or when I locked myself out of the house with no shoes on in the middle of the night, in the dead of winter, or when I fell off a train, or any number of stories that make people laugh when they hear about just how stupid I can be.

Yeah, so dinner.  And beer.

It would make me feel so much better if I could blame the beer.  Being drunk doesn’t make me clumsy, nor does it actually make me stupid.  It certainly impairs my judgment, but sometimes I don’t even need alcohol for that.  We ordered, we got a beer a piece, we chatted, dinner came.  The ketchup on the table was in glass bottles, and I don’t have a whole lot of patience.  I know about the trick where you smack the 57 with your hand or the handle of a knife or whatever, but I find what works best is just to shake up the contents before pouring and it comes right out.

And that works really well.  When the cap is actually secure on the bottle.

Which, of course, it wasn’t, because really, what the hell kind of story would "Had dinner, nothing eventful happened" make?  A rather lame one, I think.  Although, getting covered in ketchup and not realizing it right away is not particularly an experience I would seek out.

So, yeah, all down my arm, all down my neck, all down the front of my shirt…  thank goodness the waitress had brought us a stack of extra napkins when she brought our food and that I had ordered a glass of water.  Also, that I hadn’t shot ketchup all over the people at the next table nor gotten it in my hair, which really wouldn’t have been tragic, but it would have been pretty gross and hard to deal with.

I dipped the napkins in the water and wiped off as much as possible.  Took off my necklace and watch and did the best I possibly could without having a clean shirt with me.  Slockin is just about the best person to do something this stupid in front of, since he didn’t point and laugh and, in fact, helped to clean off the jewelry that I had thrown on the table in disgust.  Once I was out of danger of dripping ketchup, I went to the bathroom and did what I could.  He totally lied to me when I came back and said "Hey, you clean up pretty good."  Which is true in the sense of dressing up, but not so much in trying to clean ketchup off a t-shirt.  It was appreciated nonetheless.

The longer I am friends with anyone, the greater the chances that they will witness, firsthand, something that has been labeled a "[Fyre] move".  I think that half my friends only keep me around for the entertainment value and the stories they can tell on me.  Probably that’s a good thing, because if they weren’t at least amused by my bonehead antics, no one would ever go anywhere with me.

There is a distinct possibility that I will be hosting people throughout the summer.  Not a lot of people, and most of them are tentative, but I love playing hostess.  In fact, I enjoy it so much that I often assume the role in places where I am not, actually, the hostess.

The kickoff will start on May 8, when Girl comes to town for a long weekend.  Not only is she coming to be my date at Dragonmaker’s wedding, but it’s also Tulip Fest that weekend.  I’ll most likely be renting a car so that we’re a little more conveniently mobile than usual and hosting her entire stay.  There’s talk of two other people I know coming in from out of town, one who knows the area, one who doesn’t.  Two of my other friends who live out of state are constantly talking about coming to visit, whether or not either or both actually will will most likely be a complete surprise.

Even at my festival, I generally wind up playing hostess to those who need it, welcoming people and providing information as needed.

I’m ready for the summer to have a real kickoff, and I’m hoping that it will bring great adventures.  From where I stand now, looking at a whole lot of potentials, it looks extremely promising.  And, let’s be honest, I could use a good whirlwind summer of activity.

My world is currently divided into people who are my friends and people I hate.  There is no middle ground and there are no shades of gray.

That is all.

No, not blogging.

Ok, well, also blogging, but that’s not what I’m going to talk about today.

I was on the bus home yesterday.  It was packed and loud.  So loud, in fact, that I couldn’t listen to music because I could hear every other MP3 player, person on their cell phone and conversation on the bus, so I kind of eavesdropped and kind of zoned out.

In front of me was a guy who I have seen on the bus several times.  I have known this guy at least 6 times in my life at different times…  do you know what I mean?  Sometimes you meet the same person over and over again, but it’s never actually the same person?  I can’t describe it better than that.  He’s almost always a little younger than me, except when he’s not, and then he’s significantly older.

Anyway.  So here’s this guy talking to pretty much anyone who would listen.  He’s got drama and baggage and conflict and inner turmoil and doesn’t know how to resolve his situation.

I’ve been there.  He’s 25 years old.  His girlfriend is 20.  He still loves her, but he’s not in love with her anymore.  He wants to cut her loose, but she’s reckless and stupid and 20 and if they break up, she’ll fall back into her old, destructive ways.  "I just want to help her get to a place in her life where she’s stable…"  and then dump her.  Oh yeah, that EVER works.

And, from what I’ve seen and experienced, this is pretty typical of what happens when you’re 25.  You realize a lot of what you don’t want and you start figuring out where you want to go in life and what changes you need to make in order to be more happy, or more complete, or something.  And it sucks.  Oh boy does it suck.

So here’s the poor guy who is completely entrenched in his quarter-life crisis and he’s talking it out with random people on the bus.  "You guys have good advice," he says.  And I’m thinking in the front of my head, well, it’s cheaper than therapy, but in the back of my head I’m wondering what gets you to that point.  I mean, ok, I’ve been on both sides of the random stranger intimate conversation and there’s something very liberating about being able to vent or confide in someone you’re unlikely to ever see again.  That said, he was seeking out multiple people and really seemed to need to talk this stuff out.  I couldn’t help but wonder if his girlfriend and her whole dramatic situation left him somewhat isolated from the rest of the world.

But I digress.

I listened to this guy talk about his baggage and I listened to the random strangers offer their advice and anecdotes.  I didn’t feel that I had much to say to his stuff…  I mean, I’ve been there and I know what he’s going through, but I also know that telling him things he already knows isn’t going to help.

"But how do you do that?  I mean, how do you tell someone that you’re not IN LOVE with them anymore?"

"Well, you leave the love part out of it and only talk about the actual issues you’re having, you tell her why you’re not in love with her, but you don’t have to tell her THAT you’re not in love with her."

"But how do you say that?  Especially when you know you’re going to hurt someone you care about."

And then I HAD to say something.  "Speaking as a woman, you just say it.  You don’t cushion it, you don’t spin it, you don’t stretch it out, you don’t lie about it.  You just say it.  It might hurt, but it’s a lot easier for a clean wound to heal."

This went on.  I kind of listened.  I kind of dozed.  I was periodically distracted by those who make riding the bus an unpleasant experience.  My ride is an hour and this guy talked to his new-found confidantes for at least half of that time, probably a little more, until they got off the bus.

And I thought about it for a long time…  and I remembered being 25 and going through all of that "Who am I?"  "How am I defined by the people around me?"  "I keep trying to save people from themselves, is this working?"  And there’s a fundamental truth that a lot of us learn during that time, at least if we’re lucky, because it’s something you have to learn eventually.  I felt imposing just offering this random statement to this guy I don’t know this time around, but have known before.  So I scripted it out in my head, worked up the nerve and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hey, man, can I tell you something that you’re gonna figure out soon anyway?"

"Please."

"The bottom line is that you can’t take care of anyone else unless you take care of yourself first and foremost.  It’s not a selfish thing to do.  It’s actually more selfish to not take care of yourself in an attempt to take care of someone else because then you’re both left wanting."

"I think that part of me knows that.  I’m trying to take care of myself.  I just care so much about her and I want to make sure that she’s ok, and taken care of."

"Clearly it’s not working.  You’re so conflicted over the entire situation that you’re talking to random strangers on the bus.  You know there’s a problem and you’re so wrapped up in how to take care of her that you’re not taking care of yourself."

"You’re right.  I would just hate to see her go back to her old ways of sleeping around and partying all the time…  wasting all her money on weed and booze and sleeping on people’s couches."

"Yeah, I know, and it sucks, especially when you care.  But you have to give her the freedom to make her own mistakes and to fuck up her own life, man.  You can’t fix her.  You can’t save her.  You can’t change her and, really, all you’re doing is taking a toll on YOUR emotional well-being.  All I’m saying is, and you’re gonna figure this one out soon anyway, you can’t take care of other people unless you take care of yourself first."

And he thanked me and got off the bus to meet up with his girlfriend. 

I don’t know what, if anything, he really got out of any of his conversations or any of the proffered advice, solicited or unsolicited, but he seemed satisfied and it really is cheaper than therapy.  For myself, though, I think I’ll stick to  blogging.

So Princess sent me a news story yesterday about how a mail carrier in my city caught a baby that fell from a window.  There was no picture, but I wondered…

So I went to the website for the local paper and found a longer article with a picture and HOLY CRAP, DUDE, THAT’S MY MAIL CARRIER!

I think it’s pretty cool.

I saw this article today on 10 ways to go green for $50 or less.  While they are excellent ideas, not all of them are very practical and many could be expanded to encompass more people.  For example, #5, taking an electric shuttle.  This isn’t something that’s available in all areas, or even to most people, but taking public transportation once a week would offset gas costs and cut down on emissions.  Sure, it’s not as environmentally-friendly, but it’s a green option that could be integrated into one’s schedule.

Now, I’m all about reusable shopping bags and killing junk mail and e-cycling, but it seems to me that they left off one of the easiest things to integrate into your daily life, and something that many people take for granted.  Travel mugs.

Those who know me in real life know that I am NEVER without my mug.  I put a carabiner on my purse and a keyring around the handle of my mug so that when it’s not in use, I can clip it to my bag and go about my business.

The thing is, pretty much everyone has at least one travel mug already, but few people think to bring it with them.  I can’t understand why something so simple, and frankly, money-saving, would be so difficult to make a point to carry.  Not only am I avoiding the waste of the disposable cups, but most places charge me for the smallest size or give me some kind of discount for bringing my own mug.

My office recently stopped providing disposable hot cups, opting instead for ceramic mugs, which they ask anyone who is using one to wash when they’re finished.  This has led to a large number of people bringing their travel mugs to work, but it astounds me how many of them leave their cups on their desks and come in in the morning with a disposable cup of coffee from Starbucks (or Stewart’s or Dunkin’ Donuts or whatever).  Time and time again they say "Yeah, I really should carry it with me, but…"  and there is nothing past but except an implied "I don’t."

This is something that everyone can do with a minimal effort.

I was talking to a woman this weekend and she complimented me on my carrying a travel mug.  "That’s a really smart idea.  You’re so green," she said.  And I explained my rig to carry it as well as how it saves me money.  "You’ve inspired me!" she said.  I hope I really did, because it’s an amazingly simple thing to do, especially when you consider that we were at a rest stop on the Thruway when we had this conversation.  Both of us were, you know, traveling. 

It’s interesting, the more I think about it, the more I can’t wrap my brain around the difficulty of actually carrying a travel mug.  I mean, those of us with kids know that we bring bottles and sippy cups almost everywhere we take the kids.  The question here that we should be asking is "Why do we STOP?"  I even sometimes refer to my travel mug as my "sippy cup".  Considering how accident-prone and clumsy I am, it behooves me to have a lid on my cup, and it has spared me some serious messes.

So let’s start with ourselves.  Start carrying the mug and asking that it be used for coffee instead of the paper or styrofoam cup.  Every time.  If you can’t remember to bring it in with you, make a point to pour your disposable cup of coffee into your travel mug and at least drink out of it.  You’ll also start to notice how many cups you’re wasting.  Then, once that’s been ingrained, move to the kids.  Buy them their own travel mugs and add it to the "we’re leaving checklist."

"Did you pee?  Do you have your jacket?  Your mug?"

Let’s teach THEM to always have it with them.  The younger they are, the closer they are to remember always having their favorite sippy cup, and if they already have a sippy cup, make graduation from that move to their own "grown-up" travel mug.  "Just like Mommy and Daddy have!"

As easy as it is to not take a bag for small purchases, you often have to tell the clerk ahead of time, or hand the bag back (which I do).  As beneficial as it is, to the earth and your wallet, to buy reusable shopping bags, it takes an effort, both in initial investment and in remembering each time you go shopping.  Travel mugs take the minimal effort.  There is no rejection to the business, there is no pretension to the act, there is actually less effort, since you don’t have trash to deal with when you’re finished.

Make a small difference…  other people will notice.

I had a really good day, then got some really crappy implied news.

I think I’m being usurped.

I’m not ready to talk about it yet.