Thursday, October 2, 2014

boring me

Sometimes I think my blog posts are pretty boring.

Then I go look at other un-boring blog posts about funny people living funny lives with curmudgeony husbands and I get all my blog posts are boring and I hate them.

And then  I want to lie down right in the middle of the kitchen floor like AB did last night because she was feeling unfairly denied the use of my iPad (my iPad) and she felt the need to tell the world--or at the least the rest of the household--exactly how displeased she was with the whole unjust and, if it must be said, cruel situation.

So for a few minutes I just stared at her because that sort of thing gets on my nerves and I could feel my whole body rising up to fight, because this is what we fight about. IPads and is your room clean and did you clean the guest room after you took over and rearranged the furniture (to which I say really?? because this is very annoying to me) and for the love of everything good in this world go pick up your clothes of the floor and put them away (Two words. Broken. Record.) and the word no. Because AB does not like being told no to anything, although we have found over the years that no is actually one of her Top Ten Favorite Words, if she were to ever make a list of words she loves, which she won't because it was my idea and not hers.

And after I stared at her for 2 minutes and 47 seconds, I commanded her to get up and stop being ridiculous and go take your shower, peppered with other words I won't repeat because I, thankfully, had the wherewithal to just keep them where they belong--in my brain.

There is a house that I can see from my house--across a field and a gravel road--that keeps their white part-husky mix tied up most of the time. And when people walk by on that gravel road, that husky barks for literally the entire time the walker is making their way past the house. Both directions. But all it sounds like to me he is saying is no, no, no, no, no, because he doesn't like being tied up and he wants to be running around like a maniac, jumping and drooling and catching things.

My daughter, that husky, me. Sometimes we are all discontent, restless, wanting something more, seeing freedom but not quite tasting it, and because we think we want what we see, we get all testy and sullen and we throw fits in the floor over iPads and we bark nonononononono for 30 minutes.

But huskys can get lost when they are unchained, and so can little girls who are let loose with an iPad and Pandora, who doesn't edit the lyrics. So can big girls who think they should change the way they are just to fit what they think other people want to read.

But when it really comes down to it, after she stomps her feet and pouts and says things like why can't I be funny and clever and witty, even if it is absurd and ludicrous?, she realizes that what she has to offer the world is herself. And she's not like anybody else, and nobody else is like her. So why should she try to be like someone else when offering herself, and the words from her very soul, are just as good?

She shouldn't.

Be yourself;
everyone else is already taken.
{oscar wilde}

No comments:

Post a Comment