no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,

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Amoebas and Cheese.

I asked her once, was she ever curious about the documents she types? Because I would be. I'd wonder what they meant, why they were written that way. She said No, it never crossed her mind, she never wanted to be a lawyer. I asked her if she ever felt a need to make anything or do anything "creative", she said No. That she likes to play all kinds of outdoor Sports (she's good at them too) and Travel and meanwhile, Watch TV. The Sopranos. Six Feet Under (eww, reminds me of somebody). I like some sports and a good bit of travel. But TV? I might watch Sopranos if I ever could make myself sit still and watch a TV series. I can't, so I don't. Unless it's a true crime show or "Cops" or possibly History Channel or maybe a good ol' movie, I can't sit still with the TV on. I just get this antsy feeling like time's a wastin' and I already used up too much of it looking at TV. Even when I "watch something", I always have to be Doing something else during. Cleaning, needlework, reading a book.

I know there are people who can watch TV, who even enjoy watching cruddy reality shows for their campy value. Before they invented the Internet, and a little bit after, I used to be one of those people. Not sure when I lost the ability, but I think it was sometime during law skewel when my life just seemed to explode with fifty thousand Tasks, 500 thousand Possibilities, and a horde-host of other Considerations. TV became irrelevant at best, nervous-making at worst. Who can sit still and watch? It seemed to me to be a sign of a deficient life. I have to constantly remind myself that some people ENJOY looking at the boring ol' TV, they find it RELAXING to be passive that way, and that just because I don't like something or don't find it relaxing, it doesn't mean people who do like such things are weirdoes.

I haven't quite convinced myself yet, however. When I think of watching TV I think of being Trapped in a World That I Never Made (school, hometown), trying to entertain myself until such time as I could find a way out. In my best memories of TV, I Mak Stuf while watching. Getting ready for my wedding, painting little ceramic roses peach and pink and, um, rose (redundant, but they needed a paint job), stamping dozens of invites with wax while watching a British drama about a Catholic school. Painting hearts on an abandoned spice rack without using a drop cloth, just a newspaper balanced on a tray on my lap (yes I have spilled paint on that couch probably 5 or 10 times in its 35-year lifespan), while I watched some sort of miniseries on 60's Native American youths rebelling against white man's culture.

I Mak Stuf, that is what relaxes me the most. I lose myself in the process. The technical process, the whole hands-to-work-hearts-to-God Shaker/Gandhi/Buddhist quality drone type trip. Not the "creative process", po0p on that. I can't even listen to my good friends use the word cree-AY-tive without shuddering at some sickening mental association I make inside. To me That Word signals personality problems, potential uselessness, inability to feed oneself, hanging around Jo-Ann Fabrics or even the Beachland yammering about projects that never materialize, or worse yet, projects that Do materialize and sell well and are Boring Sid Boring. or perhaps None of the above except I'll be like Those People At Class who talk about how they spent Two hours playing with sketches of poinsettia leaves to incorporate into their next Design. Ugh? I don't want to be a Creative type, any more than I want to Follow My Dreams. I feel like that kid in someone's novel (Mona Simpson's?) who never left a margin, didn't present his work neatly, and was even poorly dressed and not so good at school, but who drew on everything, backs of papers, notebook covers, could doodle a psychedelic drumset in 3 minutes flat, Drew and drew because he had to, was driven to, it was like electricity zapping out of him and needing to flow to ground. I'm like that, full of nervous electricity that has to come out. I can almost see the blue static sparx flying out of my fingertips, even when all I'm "creeAYTING" is some dern entry on here. I don't do these things for people to look. You can look if you want *shrug* I laugh so hard at this other blawg where some whackjob is always going on and on about is MySpace better for blathering to fiends, or is HellJae better? Shoot I don't care! I'm not really talking TO any of you, I'm just talking. With you around, like a coffeeshop. It's nice, it's like having company, I can sit and write my little peece. For ME, not for you. Although I will be glad to share it and show you if you understand, it's really for ME, it's not up for discussion, it's not submitted on approval, it's not...for...YOU to do anything but look.

Jenn said I had a lot of interesting ideas. I told her I had a lot of twisted ideas and should have gone to community college (like andy) but my life was not setup to go that way. How did I end up with so many Ideas? I probably thought I needed a spare Idea for emergencies, and then I saw one in this neat color so got another, and then couldn't find them in my storage drawer so I got More, and then I rescued a whole litter from the Idea Pound because they were so Adorable I couldn't leave them behind and couldn't pick just one knowing the others might get put to sleep. and every time I go out on the street I seem to pick up one or two. and when I travel i bring them home, so many sometimes that I feel like my luggage is going to explode two seconds ahead of my Head. And now I have so many ideas that they take up every drawer, every bin, every piece of furniture in my house, like my laundry, and I have to clear them (and the laundry) out of the way in order to even see the TV.
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