why i will never be as great as charles dickens...

Charles Dickens was paid by the word. This is why we ended up with great works such as A TALE OF TWO CITIES and DAVID COPPERFIELD. Once upon a time, I was a decent writer. It’s been a while. After reading this, I’ve decided that I would have died had I lived the life of Dickens…this is random project I took on after making the same challenge to a friend of mine.
1000 words
Topic: Popsicles.
In all reality, I have million other things that I could or should be doing (like planning my life and deciding where exactly I want to go back to school, doing laundry, and visiting the parents and nephew), but really, I’d rather write about popsicles. I think it’s because in a weird way, they symbolize the reality of what I’m trying to do…consider this. Popsicles, while being a sweet and tasty refreshment, are meant to cool, sooth, and bring pleasure. Isn’t that our goal in life? To find pleasure and achieve a soothing balance of all the different aspects of the lives that we live? One of the guys I work with told me today that I need to change my attitude. I’m too negative. In light of my current negativity, think of it this way. When we eat popsicles, we are, in essence-chewing on a stick. The popsicle is the pleasurable part of quest to find the stick. It’s the procrastinator’s method to find the stick. I find it quite ironic that of all days, I would choose this one to write about popsicles. It snowed today. I broke out the winter wardrobe and dressed in long sleeves and pants. I did not care, I was warm. But back to popsicles, really we enjoy the sweet and tasty part, but subconsciously we always have the knowledge that there is always a stick in the middle, forcing us back to the reality of the end. I can put off the things that I really need to do, but they will always be there, like the stick in the middle of the popsicle. If I’m prepared for the stick, I can pull it out and use it for something useful (the classic bird house project at summer camp) or I’ll find myself with a sliver in my tongue…but really, that is not the topic. The topic is popsicles. I’ll start with a little history. (Gotta love Wikipedia…)
1905, 11-year-old Frank Epperson left out on his porch a mixture of powdered soda and water that contained a stir stick. That night, temperatures in San Francisco reached record low temperature. When he woke the next morning, he discovered that it had frozen to the stir stick, creating a fruit flavored 'icicle' ... a treat that he named his 'epsicle'. He then waited 18 years before releasing it to the public.
I love the fact that most genius ideas (popsicles included) are flat out accidents. It’s true. Mistakes are strokes of brilliance in disguise. The other thing I love about accidental inspiration is that for some reason, the inventors are under 20 years of age [Koolaid is in the same category]. Apparently it is okay for kids to make mistakes, face up to them, even embrace them, and make millions of dollars off of them. Adults have a pride issue and can’t admit to being wrong and end up hiding their mistakes rather than own up to them…fascinating. If they’d just admit to it, they’d have the opportunity to excel…just like the kids.
Really, the thing that infuriates me about this whole discovery is that he waited 18 years to release it to the public. What does this mean? Did it take him eighteen years to realize that he had made genius find in leaving his drink on the porch? Does it mean that the adults talked him out of sharing his idea? Does it mean that it took the adults 18 years to convince him that it was a good idea? Oh heavens, I’m deconstructing my own argument. Why would I do that? Ignore that question. Really, the point is, if you’ve got a good thing, why not share it? Seriously now. This man, or 11-year-old, had a life changing idea and decided to wait to benefit the world? Why would you do that? Since the day that the world was finally introduced to this genius concept, a snowball effect has spun nearly out of control to the point that one can purchase nearly anything frozen on a stick: dreamsicles, fudgesicles, ice cream bars, frozen fruit bars, etc (and that’s only the sweet stuff…). For some reason, the popsicle never really ages. Or maybe it would be more appropriately put as, the popsicle ages with you. As kids, my brother and I fought over the root beer and banana double pops. These days it is easy to find the childhood popsicles with the classic flavors of orange, purple, blue, yellow, red, and brown, but the industry had also adapted to the more sophisticated tastes as well. My personal favorite-frozen fruit bars. My current flavor of choice is strawberry-the whole fruit bar. AMAZING!!! It makes me feel like I’m actually doing myself a favor and eating fruit. More than making me healthy, it also makes me happy. What more could I want? It’s the adult version of my careless childhood days…
Not only has the popsicle has evolved nutritionally, but for convenience. As kids, I think we all loved to sit and eat our popsicles on the porch on a hot day. Half of the experience was trying to eat it without it dripping all over. In the fast-paced adult world that we live in, that is completely unacceptable. We don’t have time to sit on the porch and be dripped on. This has been solved in a few different ways, two of which being: 1) the thicker popsicle. The base of these tasty treats tends to be more than just water. They contain great substances such as whole fruit or cream (fudgsicles, jello pudding pops [which do NOT contain pudding?!? That’s another story for another day], creamies, etc); or 2) eliminating the stick. Yay for the stick-less popsicle. I’ll be the first to admit that I have a box of otter pops in my pantry. I’ll also admit that I coveted my best friend Siobhan’s three foot otter pop at age 9. (Okay, so maybe it wasn’t three feet, but had to have been at least two.) The me of 2008 does realize that they are nothing but frozen sugar water, but honestly, who can turn away names like SIR ISAAC LIME and PONCHO PUNCH. I’m sure that at some point I will realize that it’s okay for me to grow out of eating foods because I like their names, but in the mean time, I think I’m going to go put some otter pops in my freezer.
Now. Looking at my so called “brain vomit”-I do realized that my transitions are lacking, my ending is virtually nonexistent, and my voice changes from paragraph to paragraph, but you know what? I just wrote 1000 words. I haven’t done that in approximately 4 years. That makes me a little rusty, but also gives me all sorts of ganas (desires) to do it again. I’m open for ideas. Suggestions?

an addendum

just because i now find this absolutely hysterical...
there is a hole in my finger void of sliver
there are a bump and bruise on my left shin resulting from previously mentioned book case.

If you can't beat'em...join'em.

Almost daily, I hear at least one catalog of injuries or pains. I suppose that is to be expected, working in a chronic pain management clinic, but I don't know exactly how I feel about that. If your always focused on the bad, that is all you will see. This morning I woke up and realized that I have my own little set of troubles and decided to blog about them. Why? I do not know. It seemed like a good idea at the time...
1) Insect bite. Right hand, between thumb and pointer finger. Swelling. Minor pain/irritation while holding writing utensils and attempting to write. Resulting from filling gas tank later in the evening.
2) Bruise. Right Upper Arm. Mostly healed. Hardly noticeable except for by vision. Resulting from mosquito bite earlier in the week. Potentially part of allergic reaction to previously mentioned mosquito.
3) Minor infection. Right hand, middle finger, second knuckle. Resulting from splinter received while helping friend put together newly purchased bookshelves from IKEA. At the time of injury, half of sliver was removed, but the infected portion was lodged deeper in the flesh and was inaccessible without specialized instruments.
4) Insect bite. Neck, left side. Severe itching and irritation. Dang mosquitoes.
5) Muscle soreness and spasms. Both legs-calves. Resulting from inadequate stretching previous to a 5-6 mile hike and followed immediately by minor chills due to being caught in a cloud burst and some mild canyon winds.
6) Puncture wound. Left foot. Directly under fourth toe. Caused by small glass shard inadvertently located in shag carpet just outside bathroom door. Profuse bleeding controlled by neosporin and band aid.
Okay. That's my current list of injuries and pains. Do I feel better for having done this? Not particularly. Will I do this again? Probably not. Well...maybe when my doctor requires me to do so. In the meantime, I'm pretty sure that I can come up with other things to keep myself entertained.

warm fuzzy moment

As is typical for any given day at work, I spent quite a bit of time on the phone. This also means I spent quite a bit of time on hold. I've come to terms with it. I will learn patience by waiting for people, really, whether I want to or not. (another day ask me my theories on insurance companies and their corresponding hold/elevator music...fascinating.) As I was on the phone today I had a realization-I don't know that it fits in the "genius" category, but realization none the less. I made the mistake of wondering how many messages I leave on any given day. That lead to "I wonder how many people have me on their answering machine on any given day" and then it evolved to "I wonder how many scrapbooks I'm in that aren't my own," etc. Wow. That was kind of a crazy thought. How many times do we impact people without realizing it? With the whole switch to pre-authorizations at work, it's taken me away from the front desk more often than not. Yesterday I called one of our patients to set up an appointment for her and as we finished, she told me that she missed seeing me up front. Oh. Wow. Warm fuzzy. I'm missed! That's a happy thought. I guess I like to think that I could have had one of those moments where I unconsciously influenced someone for good...

sooooo...i need to update this thing....hmmmm.......this kills me. i once had someone tell me, live a life that's novel worthy. i'd like to think that i do...that someday i will write a book about my life, but i don't know if that is the most promising idea that i've had in the past 5 years. i have all sorts of ideas, but if i can't remember them long enough to get them on a blog, how am i going to remember them long enough to get them in a book?!? good grief.
moving on...for christmas last year i gave my grandparents a "gift". i told them that i'd cook them dinner once a month for the next year. i do, and frankly, i enjoy it. today was one of those days. today, however, it turned into a service project on top of the dinner. i ended up transcribing a personal history while i was waiting for my lasagna to cook. i have honestly never met this woman and i probably won't ever meet her, but i'm not going to lie...i loved reading her stories. she made me mildly nostalgic for my childhood, but also made me completely amazed and amused by the child warnings and recalls that are announced every day. i have a new nephew. next week, he'll be one month old. a few days ago, we took him out on his first outing to target(monumental, i'm sure). as his mother and i walked down the baby aisle, we noticed three or four toys all on recall for some reason or another. becky made the comment that she wasn't sure that she wanted her kid to play with toys that could potentially be harmful. reverting back to the unknown woman and her personal history, this woman wrote about her favorite toys and childhood haunts. she used to play in the rafters in the roof of her house in all the electrical wires...she broke her nose jumping off that same roof...her plans for a swimming pool in the freshly dug hole for a septic tank...and my personal favorite, the basement that leaked water so she and her brother built a raft to play in the basement and once fell in...really? why were my toys not that cool?!? how is it that our parents and grandparents had the incredible toys with small pieces, lead-based paint, and random straps that could potential injure children with small body parts? why is it that when my basement flooded, i was restricted to the upper level until the water had been drained...i suppose with experience comes practicality...oh well.

funny story...

Being new to the blogging world, I keep checking my blog hoping that someone else (perhaps Locke or Demosthenes?) has updated it. Funny how that works . . . or doesn't.

excuses.

I am a memeber of an online book club. We read books and we talk about them via the internet. This could be a good or a bad thing for me, considering I am somewhat of an over-analyst. If there is something to be found, I will find it. If there's not, I may create it anyway, just so I can have something to talk about. (This could be an indication that I talk way too much.) Recently, one of the girls in the club responded to one of our books via artwork. She looks to be some sort of graphic artist and based a piece on Marc Chagall's "The Village and I." Now-I will freely admit that I am not an artist. My stick figures could honestly use some help. This lack in ability may or may not have something to do with seperation that I have created between myself and art. I appreciate art and I really do enjoy standing in front of a picture and asking the timeless question "what does it mean?" (see, it's the analyst in me!),but creating art? That is an entirely different concept. Some express ideas and emotions through poetry. Some through music. I have recently come to terms with the fact that I am not one of those people. Strangely enough, it was a personality test. In career guidance in 9th grade, I was a hard red-those who know me well will chuckle at that thought. Recently, I took a different test that told me that I am a mastermind. Basically this means that I come up with the basic idea and I leave the rest to others. This explains my great plans but lack of execution. I'm not a great leader unless I have to be. I will let others work on the problem until I am completely satisfied that they can't do it on their own and then I'll step in. This is why I am not an artist. They take the idea and implement it. They may add some of their own personality to it, but the basic idea stands.
Keeping that thought in mind...this is my latest project.
Courtship as seen through the gentlemen of SENSE AND SENSIBILITY.
Jane Austen had a lot to say and an amusing way of putting it across. This concept is (quite contrary to the previous paragraph's rant) not my idea. This is actually my attempt at execution of someone else's idea. In all of my great experience I have learned that it is a dangerous idea to compare husbands according to their actions. The glorious part of this is the simple fact that I don't have a husband. Therefore I can freely compare and contrast these fictional characters and no one will get offended. These are some notes I jotted down the last time I watched the movie. Some of the comments are mine, some belong to my roommate, and some belong to the characters themselves. All in all, I hope someone can make sense of them...

Edward Ferras-
=too sedate=caring=a bit spineless=initially unclear expectations=apron strings=falters in keeping his word=half honest=the road to hell is paved with good intentions=he acknowledges his short comings=COWARD=ultimately honors his promises=marries for love=dutiful=tries to right the wrong (or at least apologize)=

Colonel Brandon-
=smitten=awe and admiration=offers help and not a solution=he wants better for her=attentive=focused on others=has ammunition to use and doesn’t=”kindest and best of men”=gives all he can=he made her better=

Willoughby-
=”knight in shining armor”=courteous=asks permission for everything=bold=“takes liberty”=enigmatic=follows up=presumptious=”perfect man”=too similar/half of pertinent topics in 7 hours=exciting=commitment-phobe=tears down Brandon to build himself=avoids the repercussions=marries for money=

Mister Palmer-
=silent integrity=patient=realist=

This list fascinates me. Honestly, the characters that I dislike the most have some of the characteristics that I value the most. The characters that I adore, end up with some traits that drive me absolutely CRAZY!!! I guess this just proves that there is no one perfect person. There are mostly perfect people, but no perfect people. This also proves through a list of broken thoughts, the original concept of this post-that my thought process is broken and unpolished, but full of ideas to be expounded upon by others.