Did I really celebrate Thanksgiving?

Just about every recent blog entry has felt like fiction. That’s not because I’m making up stories, but because my life feels disconnected sometimes.

I spent Thanksgiving with some great friends. Before most of these friends were awake I went to my friend Leah’s house. I went to help cook and actually had a really good time –probably because she did all the Thanksgiving cooking while I ate the appetizers. It didn’t feel like it took too long, but it was a serious chunk of the day.

The meal, although short, was such an event that it felt like another day entirely. The food was unreal. I went back for seconds even though I could hardly finish my first plate due to gluttony.

Finally more friends came over to Leah’s to have a relaxed yet fine dessert party. We played Apples to Apples, drank, ate, and joked.

By the end of the day I felt that I had lived three unique days. The next morning it felt like I had read about someone else’s Thanksgiving marathon. Today it feels like I’m writing a short fiction.

Childlike-ish

Yesterday a woman, carrying a baby, came in to the Coffee Exchange. I noticed the baby looking at me so I waved and sprouted a goofy face. A coworker saw me do this and said “that was completely out of character for you.” Luckily I was spared the sermon on how we can learn so much from children, but this dead horse is not new to me.

Throughout my life I’ve heard people say, “we can learn so much from children.” Childlike (not to be confused with childish) qualities are praised as humble, loving, playful, non-judgmental, and truthful (except for stealing cookies). But I’m not sure being childlike is such a good thing.

You see, I was a child once. As a child I did childlike and childish things, but I’ve learned from them. I’ve learned that unrestrained love can get you hurt. Humility can be perceived as being a doormat. Playfulness doesn’t pay the bills. Judgments are often right. And telling the truth is important even with the little things like stealing cookies.

Also, recognizing good qualities that you want to include into your own life is very adult. Children are short sighted, fickle, easily persuaded, and dependent.

I like children. A very high percentage of parents love their children in some indescribable way. My friends have given up many of life’s perks to have children in their lives, and that speaks volumes of the quality of life their children have given them. Again, I like children, I look forward to spending time with my nephews and nieces. But I’m not going to follow their example –unless that means I get nap-time.

Salad Days

I want to come up with some reasonable explanation for why my mind wanders through bizarre ideas. But instead I’ll just assume that everyone has strange thoughts and the only difference is that I voice mine.

Working at 5:45 in the morning can play strange tricks on your mind. One of the strange tricks my mind is currently obsessed with is unconscious themes. I’ll have worked four hours before I notice that I’ve been walking around with my arms bent at the elbows and forearms parallel to the ground. I don’t walk this way around my house or even while shopping at the grocery store. I don’t know why I do it some days while working, but I call these “Dinosaur Days” (because I remind myself of a T-Rex).

Some days I notice that I’m not swinging my arms or turning my neck, these are “Robot Days.” Days I’m constantly standing on one foot, “Bird Days.” I also have “Michael Jackson Days,” “Giraffe Days,” and “Frankenstein Days.”

I believe that I come up with these ridiculous titles for days because my mind is not being challenged enough with my daily tasks. Perhaps my brain needs a certain amount of activity, without which it makes it’s own. Or perhaps, more likely, I’m just having one of those “Chatty Cathy Days.”

That reminds me of when

As a kid I constantly feared that someone was playing a joke on me. Not the kind of joke with a punch-line, but the kind of joke that is meant to trick someone.

The trick was that everything in my life seemed too coincidental. One day in school we were talking about Julius Cesar (the ruler of Rome and the victim in Shakespeare’s play) and the very next day The Simpsons made a reference to the Ides of March. Although these coincidences were happening at a normal rate, I was convinced that my life was somehow dishonest. I was convinced that someone was taking delight in my confusion and waiting for the perfect moment to spring out and say “look into the hidden camera.”

I realize now how paranoid and self-absorbed this notion was. I also realize that my obsession with chance is just an ever-increasing exponent –my fixation with it raises my awareness of it and my increased awareness increases my fixation. All this considered, I’m still surprised by the overabundance of coincidences in my life.

One day the trickster is going to slip up and I’ll be the one laughing at him.