Perpetual Motion by mary elizabeth

I think we may have to move, again, in the pretty near future and I’m not really excited about it. If we move to greener pastures, somewhere more exciting, that’ll be cool and positive and all that. But – it still requires physically doing it and that’s not too exciting, or cool or positive or anything. And – if we just have to move to diminished quarters here, I’m going to be hard pressed to keep my smiling, happy attitude in tact. I have moved my kids around this town so many times in the last two years it’s actually rather comical. Unless, of course, you’re my kids. The worst thing about all this moving is the stupid, misguidedly optimistic feeling of “this time we’re really home!” we always get when we move into the next installment of our nomadic existence. I’m feeling kind of sorry for us right at this moment (in case you couldn’t tell) and am wondering what the lesson is in all this upheaval. 

Are there always lessons? Is there a period in your life upon which you reflect and think, “Nope – no lesson there. Just a bunch of monkeyshine.”? I don’t know. Are we always using 20/20 hindsight to color the more monkeyshiny bits with life lessons? I hope not. But then again – there’s something sort of annoying about suspecting everything’s just another stupid lesson in the school of hard knocks. Whatever – I’m glad I learned that lesson about the hot stove, and the one about loaning money to people who don’t have any. I’m glad I’ve finally learned that honesty really IS the best policy and that respecting yourself is the only way to earn respect. And, even more importantly, I’ve learned it only takes three strong men to move a piano and that “security deposit” is just another way of saying “gratuity”.  All important lessons – all helping me to move ahead.

What? by mary elizabeth

Sometimes I get stuff and sometimes I just don’t. I get most of the jokes I hear and I’m pretty quick with innuendo and literary references and stuff like that. What I mean is sometimes someone will say something I wouldn’t and sometimes I get it. And sometimes I don’t. Relationships of any kind are hard and you’d think a common language would be helpful, but occasionally it can  be a real hindrance. Sometimes I think we’d be better off  just either smiling at one another or flipping each other off. It’d be direct and hard to misinterpret – uncluttered and clean.

Lately I’ve been trying to be conscious of my words – to try and limit the gossip and reign in some of the  endless blathering. Sadly – I love both. But when it comes to expressing myself, I’d much rather write. I’m a fan of texting. Plus, I really hate having to speak my truth when I need to, so I often economize my words way more than necessary, leaving the recipient of this truth vaguely aware that something’s bothering me but with no idea of what. Oh well. They say actions speak louder than words, and at this point in my life most of my actions are pretty honorable. So – I’ll keep writing,working on the gossip and remembering to watch people’s actions when their words mystify me.

Wake Up by mary elizabeth

Do you know what I hate? When you watch a really scary movie and then in the end the whole thing turns out to be someone’s psychotic episode. It just bugs me. I want the weird freaky stuff to be real. I want everything to be real, actually – magic, ghosts, talking dogs – all of it. And not just in movies. I want my wishes granted and my mistakes to be the fault of sinister occultish forces. I don’t want to be responsible for my own reality.

They say when the student is ready the teacher appears, which is annoying because it turns everyone you ever dealt with into teachers with difficult lessons you were finally ready to learn. Yuck.  Just once, I’d like to be the teacher and actually know it at the time and teach some people some lessons! Just kidding – plenty of my teachers have taught me humility and, paradoxically, that you can’t really teach anybody anything. Except yourself. That’s just how life is – one long last five minutes of The Wizard of Oz, where you learn that the power was really yours all along. And then you wake up.