When Nice Things Happen to Confused People
Here is a rundown of my day on Friday.

I go to work. Blah, blah, blah. I'm at work. Bored. Not wanting to do any work. Tired emotionally, physically, tactically, thoroughly, completely. Training for my 100 mile bike ride has been wearing me out, taking up all my time, and other things are just wearing me out these days. Blah.

Earlier in the week I had arranged for Friend C to move some things into my house. She is going to grad school in a far away place at the end of the summer, and we've talked about storing some things at my house while she is away. I willingly gave her a key to my home, to come and go as she pleases while putting things in my house. She told me she planned to come over while I'm at work on Friday and deposit some items on loan from the Friend C Collection.

I didn't think twice about it. I don't mind loaning some space to my friend. And truthfully, it was fun to think I was doing something nice for a friend. On occasion, you may catch the Tyrant doing a good deed. Write it on your calendar and remember it. It is rare.

So, during lunch time on Friday I get a call from Friend C. Her first words were, "Don't freak out." Now, if you truly want someone to not freak out, it's adviseable not to start a conversation that way. Friend C went on to explain that she had somehow backed the truck into my house. Nothing major, but she just wanted me to know before I got home and before her insurance people called me.

I did not yell. Although my first thought was, "I give you my house and you go and run a truck into it??" I assured her it would be ok, and I went back to work.

Later, I went home. I get to leave work early on Fridays, which is always fun for me. It's great in the summer because I usually have time to mow my yard when I get home, before I go out and play for the evening. This was my plan for Friday. Except all I could think about was the anticipation of the damage that was done to my house. I wasn't mad. I just didn't know what to expect.

Then, the confusion began.

I got home and noticed the garage door area was slightly banged up, but nothing major. In fact, I had hit the same spot myself once before. Some minor work will repair the damage. No big deal. I don't believe the house will be falling down due to the bump on the garage.

Then, I noticed a sign on my front door. It listed some things that I now have time to do. No explanation as to why I now have time to do these things. But apparently someone decided to post a list of things for me to do with some sort of extra time.

Um.... what? Confusion...

I then went in the house and noticed that there was no extra stuff in my house. It was just my stuff, same as always. I walked through my entire house and did not notice where Friend C had left any of her belongings.

More confusion.

Now my thought was, "Why did Friend C come to my house, not leave anything, and then run the truck into my garage?" It just seemed a strange thing to do on a Friday afternoon.

So, with the sign listing things I now have time to do in hand (nap, bike, travel, read, take long walks on the beach, etc.), and much confusion in my brain, I called Friend C.

I think she was expecting my call.

The conversation went something like this:

CT: Why is there no stuff in my house?
Friend C: Hi, T. (giggle)
CT: And what is this random sign that was on my door?
Friend C: What does it say?
CT: It lists a bunch of things that I now have time to do. I'm very confused.
Friend C: (giggle)
CT: The damage on the garage is not that bad, but why did you come to my house today, not leave your stuff, and then run the truck into my house?
Friend C: (more giggles)
CT: I'm very confused!
Friend C: (pause in giggles) T, what did you plan to do this afternoon?
CT: Mow my yard. Why?
Friend C: And what does your sign say?
CT: (fog beginning to lift) What? Did...? What? Nuh-uh. I....

I opened my front door and walked outside to notice that my yard HAD BEEN MOWED!!! And not just mowed, but weed-whacked around the edges. And not just the front yard. The back yard, too!!

Yes, I had just driven past my yard and into my garage, focused on looking at the boo-boo on my garage, and I completely missed that my yard looked MUCH better than when I had left it that morning.

CT: Friend C, did you mow my yard today?
Friend C: Well, there were a few of us.
CT: What? Who?
Friend C: Boy J came over on his lunch hour, Friend Seo helped, too. Friend A thought up the idea and made your sign.
CT: Ok, now the sign makes more sense.

Through the course of more conversations with these kind people over the past two days, I have learned that Friend A birthed the idea of mowing my yard this week (she's a thinker, that one). She recruited Friend C, Boy J, and Friend Seo to come to my house in the middle of the day Friday and surprise me by mowing my yard for me. They even brought an extra mower (hence the truck that ended up denting my garage door).

I am both shocked and awed at how sneaky these people are. Friend C managed to get a house key out of me (too easily, I might add), and they all managed to keep the plan a secret from me all week (and it's not like I don't spend a lot of time with these people).

Once the situation began to sink in, I have to admit I was really overwhelmed. I couldn't call any more of them to say thanks, being a bit choked up. I couldn't believe they had done such a nice thing for me. Props to them for catching me completely off-guard. Even being a ninja, I guess being super tired affects my state of being always aware. I never saw it coming (and actually once I thought about it more, I was a little disturbed that I came home, didn't notice that my mower, blower, or weed-wacker had been used, and a bit weirded out that unexpected people had been in my home! I pride myself in knowing everything about my home at all times!). But the main thing that I felt was loved and cared for. And that hasn't been something I've felt in awhile, being so busy and so tired.

I have yet to determine why Friend A thought of this, or why I am deserving of such an amazing gesture. It was the perfect thing to do for me, and I'm super impressed that she knew that and recruited my favorite people to make it happen. I feel like I've been kind of a jerk lately in some ways that I don't need to go into. But it seems that my friends just wanted me to have some time to rest before my big bike ride next weekend.

Even though I now understand what happened, I don't understand why.

But that was my day Friday.

It was a good day.

Thanks Friend A, Friend C, Friend Seo, and Boy J - hands down the best lawn crew ever. You made my day, and I don't really know how to say thanks except to go relax outside with a book, and snooze in my nicely mowed yard.

C.T.

Yeller
I've determined that the ideal person that I am missing in my life is someone who I can yell at. And that is the only purpose they serve.

Why? Well, I'll tell you.

Not that I yell a lot, mind you. Or have a need to yell much or often. But sometimes, there just needs to be some yelling. Because nothing else seems to work, and the only thing that feels like it will make me feel better is to yell at someone, in a big way. You know?

I have good friends. I have family. I have lots of good people who are good in my life. But these are all relationships that could potentially be damaged by dealing with too much of my crazy, throughout the course of knowing me.

Sometimes I am mad. Or hurt. Or frustrated. Or whatever. Maybe about something in particular. Or maybe I'm just having one of those "mad at the world" days. And sometimes I just need someone I can yell at for a few minutes.

However, this needs to be someone not directly related to why I am needing to yell. Or more importantly, someone who doesn't really have any idea about why I am yelling. It needs to be an impartial third party.

Hence, a yeller.

Sure, I have friends who will take a good yelling from me. And I don't mind getting yelled at from time to time. We all need to have these friends in our lives who will put up with a yelling on occasion. But it is rare that I will do that to them. And it is rare that they will take that from me. Especially if I'm yelling for no good reason, or for something they didn't do.

It's not fair to yell when the person receiving the yelling is not responsible.

So, to have a yeller in my life would get rid of the issue of hurting a friend's feelings, or taking advantage of a relationship by yelling too much. This yeller person would serve the sole purpose of being the person I can call in the event I need to yell about something.

It could be a friend, but more likely it would be a random person that isn't directly in my life. Someone I only talk to when I need to yell. Someone who doesn't need to know the details, doesn't really care about me, and of course, doesn't yell back or offer advice during the yelling.

Most importantly, that person has to be available in the middle of the night, completely okay with me calling to wake him or her up for a good yelling, and absolutely unaffected by the whole ordeal and not mad at me the morning after. It is important for this person to be non-affected and completely unfazed. That way I don't feel guilty for yelling, and he or she is certain not to care at all about anything I've yelled about.

It's perfect. No strings attached. No commitment, other than being the person I know I can call when I wake up, can't sleep, and I need to let someone have it.

I will be auditioning for the role of my yeller, possibly anytime, potentially between the hours of 2 and 4am, weeknights only. Be sure to leave me your phone number if you are interested.

C.T.

Fever, or Boredom.
I can't tell what it is. But I'm having trouble just resting today.

I'm home sick again. It is all kinds of inconvenient.... namely because it is keeping me from training for my 100 mile bike ride. I do not have time for this!

I feel terrible, and I have a very strong desire to do nothing today but lay on the couch and watch bad t.v. until it is time to go to the doctor later. But, I can't settle down.

I've been super busy lately. And today my body does not understand, "Hey, let's take a break and try to stop being sick." I've turned into Friend A. Can't just sit and do nothing....

So, I've been finding things to do that don't require much energy. And luckily, almost all have involved saving money.

First, I switched to a new energy service provider. Hopefully this will solve the problem of paying $108 billion dollars a month to cool my house in the summer, while I only pay $10 in the winter. And overall, it will be cheaper.

Then, I cancelled my home phone line. I have clung to it for so long, despite rarely using it, because of all the pain, anguish, and hardwork it took to get the line set up. However, I have determined that it is not worth the expense to have a basically useless phone line. And I still do not have any loyalty to SBC. So, the phone had to go. I am now cell-phone only. Again.

Well, as long as SBC gets the cancellation right the first time.

Then, I fixed a phone line problem with my church's phone. Also with SBC. It's an on-going problem that luckily wasn't costing us any additional money. But it also wasn't ever letting us retrieve any messages. People can call, we can see them on the caller ID. But we just couldn't get their messages if they could ever get to a place to leave a message. Messages are somewhere in a Phone Message Void.

Hopefully SBC can get that right this time. It will be their third or fourth attempt.

Next, I cancelled the travel service thingy I signed up for to get a free Ipod. I am no longer trying to get the free Ipod. And the travel service thingy did not deliver better airfare prices, nor does the free digital camera they sent me actually work. So, I'm getting my money back. Ha!

Overall, it's been a productive money-saving day. Which is good because I will soon be going to the doctor, where I will spend money for her to tell me why I'm sick. And then I will likely go to the pharmacy, where I will spend money buying drugs to fix me.

I'm still bored.

Maybe I will set up a lemonade stand out in my yard.

C.T.

When apples attack
Sometimes I'm an idiot.

Things happen to me because I am an idiot. Today I had one of those idiot days when things happen that are completely bizarre and embarrassing, and I swear I am not going to tell anyone because I am too embarrassed. But about ten minutes later I can't help but tell everyone I know. And then I blog about it.

It all started with my bike ride this morning. I had scheduled 50 miles for today, so I went to the lake to ride the trail for my 50 miles. It all started fine and good. My plan was to do this much without stopping.

Before I began my first lap around the lake, I was cold. So I wore my extra shirt. Of course, during the first lap I got hot, as I knew I would. So I had to stop and take off my extra shirt. Stop #1.

Then my battery died in my mp3 player sometime during lap 3. So, I had to stop to replace the battery with the extra battery I stored in the bag underneath the seat on my bike. Stop #2.

Then, about 30 minutes later, I hit a bump and heard a loud clatter that sounded suspiciously like a cell phone hitting the ground. I quickly determined this was, in fact, MY cell phone hitting the ground because I had forgotten to zip the seat bag closed again after replacing the mp3 player battery, and the bag contained my cell phone. So, I had to stop, go back, and hunt for my cell phone in the bushes, then make sure it still worked. Thankfully it did. But it has an ugly dent on the side of it now. Why? Because I'm an idiot. Stop #3.

I finally finished my 50 miles, with no further stopping required. But sadly, my ride that was supposed to be stop-free actually included three stops.

Dang.

Then I met some friends for a picnic, also at the lake. All was fine and well. There was food, good friends, sunshine.

Then Friend A wanted to play catch with a ball. But, we had no ball. So we grabbed an apple that was approximately the size of a softball, and decided to play Apple. This consisted of throwing the apple back and forth. Much like one would throw a ball back and forth.

And then, I was an idiot again.

I am an excellent catcher. I can catch most anything. But today, I don't know what happened. One minute we were having a perfectly friendly, harmless game of Apple. The next, the apple flew threw my hands and directly into my nose.

MY NOSE!

IT HURT...

Now, I've never been hit in the face by fruit before. So I was both stunned, and in a lot of pain. Who knew apples were so hard???

At first, it was funny. Then, I realized how much it hurt. I've been sensitive about things hitting my nose (or as our friends in Clueless would say, my doctor doesn't like me partcipating in activities where balls fly at my nose) since I had nose surgery several years ago to correct a deviated septum. NOT a nose job. It was a life-saving surgery, thank you very much.

But clearly he should have been more specific about things flying at my nose. He should have included fruit. Beware of fruit to the nose, he should have said. I would have heeded this warning with the utmost of heeding. I would never have allowed the game of Apple to be invented, at least not without the proper protective headwear.

So, as I stood there today holding my nose (I don't know why we do this. Holding the thing that hurts never actually makes it feel better), and as tears began to form in my eyes, I had to face the fact that....

I had just been hit in the face by an apple.

An apple.

WHO GETS HIT IN THE FACE BY AN APPLE????

Me. Because I'm an idiot.

I think that hurt more than my nose did. I had been hit in the face by an apple. Ouch.

Friend A laughed at me a lot, even though she had thrown the apple. But she also offered several times to take me to the ER, while our doctor friend who picnicked with us continued to sit on the picnic blanket as though an apple had not just struck me in the face. Apparently doctors are not to be bothered by things such as apples to the nose on their days off.

Friend A does owe me a trip to the ER, since I took her and her mangled toe to the ER last summer. But I'm saving it for something good. I can't very well let her take me to the ER for something like an apple to the nose. That's just embarrassing.

But for the record, I never laughed once at her toe incident. Well, at least not where she could see me...

The apple had a dent in it that is the shape of the end of my nose.

And my nose still hurts.

Man, I'm an idiot.

Especially because once we determined that my nose wasn't broken and I didn't need to go to the ER, we resumed the game of Apple.

No further injuries to report.

C.T.

Episodes
Many things have gone on lately. Too many, in fact, to write about. I'm so busy, I just don't have the time I wish I had to blog more. Especially for my readers who miss me when 10 days go by and there is no word from The Tyrant....

But I write this today because something happened the other night to confirm that even being as busy as I am, I still manage to watch too much tv. It's affected my thinking, my speech, the way I see things. And as Friend A watched the event unfold, she immediately looked at me and knew I would blog about it.

Truth be told, however, the thought didn't cross my mind until she said I would blog about it. And further truth be told, I had no idea I wanted to write about all of this. But she demanded credit for saying that I would blog about it, even though she has no idea what all I will really write about here. And all of it is ironic since she has a strict not-reading-friend's-blogs policy, so she wouldn't know she got credit for anything unless she were to read it here.

But, Friend A, here is your credit. This blog entry would not exist were it not for you.

Anyway, I was telling a story to a group of friends about an article I read in a magazine. It's the best article I've read in a long time, likely largely due to the fact that I don't really read magazines or articles much. I just look at the pictures. So there really aren't many other articles to compare....

But this particular article happened to be about a crisis one faces when turning the ripe old age of 29. An identity crisis, of sorts. I've been in a funk lately. Nothing seems to make sense much. I think my friends think I'm weird, likely because I've been acting weird. I'm sad, then happy. I can have a great time with friends, but cry on the way home. Seriously. Happened tonight.

One minute I feel content with where I am, the next I feel completely alone and useless. One second I feel like I have it all together, I'm smart, funny, sophisticated, and on track to where I'm supposed to be in life. The next minute I get an email or a phone call, or I don't get an email or phone call, and it feels like my world has fallen apart. Insecurity sets in.

I'm self-conscious about everything I do. Did I say the wrong thing? Did I not say the right thing? What am I wearing? Should I have left the house looking like this? Why am I not married? Do I even want to ever be married? Shouldn't I have three kids by now? Is it weird that sometimes I just want to be around my closest girlfriends and not talk about boys for once? Do I mean anything to anyone, or am I just good for laughs sometimes?

Am I doing whatever I do good enough? Who have I failed this week, and is it worse than the last time I failed them? Will I ever be what I'm supposed to be, and can anyone tell me what that is?

Am I a 29-year old disappointment, or is where I am, what I do, who I love, who loves me, ok?

I've struggled mostly lately with failure. I can honestly say I don't do the wrong things on purpose. I don't set out to intentionally not do what my friends need me to do, or my family. I have to admit that I'm a selfish person. But genuinely, I try to do the right thing at the right times, from where I see it, as best I can. I have a tremendous desire not to hurt the people in my life, and instead help, or be there, or make them laugh. Just to be a good friend, good daughter, good fill-in-the-blank. Lately, however, it's just felt like I can't get things quite right. In many areas of my life. But especially, and where it's hardest for me to deal with, in areas and with people where it used to be so easy for it to be right.

Do you ever just wake up one day and realize, "Yesterday I had these friends and a good thing going there, and my family is good and at peace with one another, and I had some pizza, and a cookie, and the sun was out and it was warm and not windy, and everything was super great and I went to bed happy. Then today I woke up and where the hell did everyone go? And why is there no pizza? And that kid took my cookie. And now it's raining directly on me but not on anyone else, with lots of wind, and hail. And I seem to be all alone, and lonely, and sad, and what all seemed right my world is now on fire and a complete mess. How did that happen? I just closed my eyes for a few minutes..."

That's been how I feel lately. Just kinda... what happened? I thought things were good.

But I haven't just thought about failure for me, even though it's been a big thought on my mind. I tend to assume I did something wrong when things go wrong. But I've also thought a lot lately about how I communicate failure to the people in my life. Mostly that sometimes I think I communicate disappointment or unhappiness with the people I love, when that's really not the case. I have a lot of amazing people in my life. But sometimes, depending on which side of crazy I wake up on any given day, I wonder if I give my loved ones the impression that they've failed me that day, or that week, or lately, because I'm unsteady these days.

If I can't figure myself out, how can anyone else?

It breaks my heart to think that people in my life may be wondering how they've failed me, when they haven't actually failed me, but I just haven't done a good job of letting them know they haven't, and that I still love them.

So, I picked up this article in this magazine that I was actually intending to throw away. It had been sitting on my floor for about a month (don't tell my mom my house was in such dissaray - and still is - that a magazine could sit on the floor untouched for so long...), and I was actually picking it up to throw it away. But, I flipped through it and stumbled on this article.

As I read it, it seemed to be describing me. I had no idea what is was about until I began to read it. Turns out it was about a woman who had just turned 29 and her struggles with a life crisis at that time.

Huh. Soooo, maybe that's my problem. And maybe I'm ok. Just going through some stuff.

It had never occured to me that I could have a legitimate life crisis at 29. You always hear people talk about turning 30 and that's the year it's scary. Or a mid-life crisis somewhere around 50. Well, it's been comforting to learn that 29 can legitimately be rough, too. And since most of my friends are younger than I am, it's no wonder they wonder what's wrong with the crazy old Tyrant. They just haven't been here, yet.

This was the line that struck me from the article. And really, it applies to anyone of any age:
"This was part of the irony of it all - the more I focused on being what everyone wanted me to be, the less I was able to enjoy true relationship, which was probably the one thing I hungered for the most."

That kinda summed up everything I've been feeling lately, but haven't been able to put it into the right words. I've got these great friends and family in my life, these relationships that have somehow materialized despite the odds of it involving me and the crazy that comes with me. When the relationships are good, I feel so safe, and ok. Yet, it gets to a point where it's not as enjoyable. And I think it's because (for me) I'm wanting so much to figure out who I am, but I'm going about that by trying to be everyone else's picture of what they want me to be. I'm not ever going to find myself that way. And my relationships will continue to suffer.

I notice that my relationships are at their best when I'm free. I can look back at really good times with people I love, and I see now that those are times when I was comfortable, and I felt safe, and it was good. Like, this-is-why-I-let-people-in-my-life-because-normally-I'm-a-hermit-but-there-actually-are-good-people-out-there-that-I-can-let-into-my-world good. But when my insecurities and fears start creeping back in, it eats away at what I bring to relationships, and my ability to just give who I am to those I love, and my ability to just let them love me. It takes away my trust from what I know to be a good thing, and it substitutes that trust with working overtime trying to fix what probably wasn't broken in the first place.

But that's why the people in my life are here in the first place, because of who I am. Not because I can be what I think they want me to be. Or because I suddenly need to start fixing things that aren't broken. Something about me is something they liked to start with. And I don't think it was the possibility that after they got to know me, then I would be more of use to them.

It is the hardest thing I will ever be able to conquer to accept that sometimes people actually just love me, and want me around, and value me in their life, just because of who I am. Not because of what I can do. Or have done.

I have not conquered this.

But then, I went to church last night. And this may get a little preachy/Jesus-y for those of you who don't come here to read that sort of thing from me. But bear with me. It's good.

I sat too close to the front at church, so I was largely distracted throughout most of the talk/sermon/word/voicing. But one thing that was said brought me to tears as I sat through the time of reflection: God loves me as I am. I've heard that a million times. But through this Lent time as I struggle with the email I gave up, or as we all struggle and think ourselves failures in our human attempts to be more holy during Lent, it really doesn't matter.

God won't love me less this week because I emailed some people last week. Ok, a lot. Of people. And... a whole lot of emails.

So that got me thinking a bit further. If I'm not failing God during Lent, maybe I'm not failing Him on a regular day. And maybe through most of my days. And maybe, even, through all 29 of my years.

Whoa.

And maybe if I'm not actually failing God, and He loves me anyway, why am I so worried and heartbroken about not failing everyone else? Seems to me that He's the one that really matters. And if my version of crazy, can't-get-it-right-even-though-I'm-trying on any given day can't make Him love me any less, maybe I'm ok.

For the first time in awhile, I heard last night that God just wants me to accept the fact that He loves me. Even if I am a complete failure to everyone else in my life, or as a 29-year old without a husband or kids or a cookie.

It hit me last night that I need acceptance. I need to be loved. We all have that need. But I think it's what drives me more than it should. I just want to know I'm ok, and that my ok is ok with everyone else. And lately my struggle has been to want that where I am not finding it. But if God loves me, then even if the entire rest of the world has no love for me at all, I need to find peace in that. Because that's the reality of it, and what's better is that's the beauty of it. There actually is peace in that.

Anyway, I'm still 29. And I'm still struggling. But at least I know that's what it is. And I'm not alone. Still crazy, and I will probably cry again in a minute. But I'm not alone.

And what brought on this episode of Cynical Rantings was what happened the other night, with a group of friends, as I mentioned that I'd read an article in a magazine that I was about to throw away, and it was the best article I'd read in a long time.

Except... I called it an episode. Instead of an article. Without realizing that's what I called it. Until everyone pointed it out to me.

I watch too much tv.

But sometimes I read. And it's good.

Episodes.

C.T.

You have the Latin flair of a polar bear.
If I had a nickel for every time someone told me that, I'd be rich. It's so true, really.

Actually, this is a sign that it's one of my favorite times of year. The season of a new American Idol. And we all love Simon for stating the obvious when it matters most. Polar bears (as well as some contestants) just don't have Latin flair. And if they think they do, they need to be told that they don't.

Truthfully, I'm having a hard time keeping up with all the good tv these days. It all comes at once. But it's a good thing, actually, since I'm training for this again. For all the hours I'll spend on my bike indoors on days when weather isn't so good for the biking out of doors, and lifting weights, and um, eating a lot, I will be able to stay caught up on all the greatness on television. And really, this is the most important thing. In the world....

My current shows are as follows, in no particular order:

The Amazing Race 7
American Idol
America's Next Top Model
Alias
Lost

Three of these shows are on the same night. I tell you, it's quite a challenge to get all this tv in without even having Tivo. A talent, I daresay.

Now, it is too early to predict who will win TAR7, although after tonight I still don't have a favorite. But I must say, I'm ready for Gretchen and Meredith to go. I usually support the old people, because they are cute and they try hard. But the sound of Gretchen's voice is soooo grating on my nerves, I may have to see what I can do to rig the show for her to somehow get lost someplace where she isn't supposed to be, and therefore be eliminated from the race. Or, I can just leave it up to Rob to keep rigging the show to his advantage and to the demise of everyone else.

Hate. That. Guy. Hated him on Survivor. Both times. Still hate him now.

I'm also not sure how I feel about the contestants on American Idol thus far. I do think the guys are better than the girls. And somewhat less annoying. But I'll have to weigh in my thoughts another time. I'm sure my Alliance co-hort can help keep us up to speed. It's tough to keep up with 3 Idol shows per week. I haven't caught them all in one week, yet. I love the Idol, but 3 Seacrests a week is just too much.

America's Next Top Model has only just begun. But it's looking oh so good. And next week, Janice is back.

As for Lost and Alias, I'm not sure who will win those. But I'd be willing to bet on Sydney, and.... possibly Kate. Sydney, because she's scrappy. And Kate, because on the island they actually do have a polar bear without Latin flair, and she seems to know how to handle it.

Aaah, tv is in the air....

C.T.

What I've Learned from E-mail
So, I'm in the midst of the throes of Lent again. Here's the tale of what it's all about for me.

This year I've given up e-mail. Now, one might think, "In this day and age, how is it even possible to give up e-mail? How do you communicate?" That is a very valid question.

The rules of my non-e-mail Lent go somewhat like this (it's a loose definition, because with something like e-mail, exceptions have to be made sometimes): I've given up superfluous e-mail, meaning any and all e-mail that doesn't serve a purpose. If it's to get in touch with someone I can't easily talk to, it's ok. If it's to make plans, it's ok. If it is responding to someone who has e-mailed me for a specific purpose, it's ok. And pretty much all work/office related e-mail is ok, since my job depends on that. Otherwise, personal e-mail that is for fun, or to give information about myself (ie: tell a story) is strictly prohibited.

Admittedly, I have failed at this already. And it's been a much harder thing than I ever expected. But overall, I have kept up my end of the no-e-mail for Lent. The main goal for me is to spend far less time than I usually do sending e-mail, and to use other forms of communication to talk to people.

The purpose of this decision for Lent is that I've fallen into a bad habit of depending on e-mail as my main form of communication with people. I love to write. And I sit at a computer most of the day. So it has become far easier for me to send an e-mail to talk to someone, rather than pick up the phone, or make dinner plans, or get face-to-face time with the people in my life. It's become a really bad habit, and has led to some e-conversations that haven't necessarily been a positive influence on some relationships.

When I really think about the amount of time I've spent writing long e-mails, and I realize that time could have been spent with whoever I am e-mailing, it actually makes me a bit sad. I don't like that I would choose such a passive form of communication over spending time with people.

Not that e-mail is always bad. I have a beautiful way with words, and can better say anything I want to say via writing than I ever will be able to communicate by speaking. I've had some really great conversations over e-mail, and I think the genre of e-mail allows for more honest conversations sometimes. But sometimes, it can be misunderstood, or just too much at the wrong time. And sometimes things written on a page just can't be fixed later. Even if you had good intentions. Sometimes, e-mail is just the wrong way to go. It can actually be dangerous. I've learned that the hard way.

But, what started as a simple idea for me to stop e-mailing so much has turned into a much broader self-realization and committment as I've gone along with this Lent thing. It's been really eye-opening, and pretty cool for me.

I first realized just how much I do e-mail. I am extremely funny. And I sit at a computer all day. So when I'm sitting in my cube, and something pops into my head that I find extremely witty, my first reaction is to e-mail it to 5-10 of my closest friends so they, too, can share in how funny I am. I've written some world-class funny e-mails in my day. But for Lent, I've had to check that and save the funny for another time. It's been hard. I forget what was funny, I forget to tell people later, and usually it's not so funny after I've forgotten most of what was funny about it in the first place. I feel like Chandler on Friends when he had to give up making jokes about people for his New Year's resolution. So many funny things that need to be e-mailed, but I can't join in!

Then I realized how much I e-mail when I want to tell someone something. Like, for reasons other than being funny. I generally hate the phone. I'm just not a phone person. And, I'm generally not a talker. I get shy, even around people who I'm completely comfortable with. It's just easier for me to put it all down on e-mail, send it, and get the conversation going that way. But as a good friend has mentioned to me, I can go on for pages in an e-mail, but when I'm in person it's sometimes like I'm different person, because I just don't say much. She knows me really well, but if that's something she's struggled with about me, how often am I like that with people I'm less comfortable with or who don't know me as well? I don't want people to know me only through e-mail, and I don't want that to be the only way I can be open, or myself, or relate to people. It kinda hurt to hear her say that, but I'm thankful she said it because I've realized that it's true.

So, thinking through these things and some other things, I've realized that e-mail is not really the problem. It's more the symptom of how I deal with people, and maybe also about much of my lifestyle. I've got millions of words going on in my head at any given moment, but it is hard for me to be the starter of actual speaking conversations. I'm reclusive by nature. I'm in my own head most of the time. But I also long for close connections with the people in my life, to let them know me, and to know them better.

Quite a conundrum, I must say.

To most people, I'm sure none of this even makes sense. People generally don't have a problem with e-mail. Phone is not something that is fundamentally difficult. Conversations should not be difficult with people you enjoy being with. And most people likely only use e-mail for basic ways of communication - not to write brief novels to people about everything that's going on in your life that week.

But for me, verbal communication and developing relationships has always been hard. It's easy being funny. I can make a group laugh with very little effort. And I think that sometimes translates to people as "she is funny and therefore able to carry on a conversation with me because funny is the same as charming and adept in social situations." And this is followed by disappointment when I'm quiet following a ten-minute schtick on whatever had a group of people rolling with laughter.

But when it gets to one-on-one and getting to know people, it takes very patient people to stick with me until one day I'm comfortable enough to have easy flowing conversation. It's always been a struggle for me. And I couldn't even tell you what or why it's difficult sometimes. I just seem to have missed the lesson that kids get somewhere in school on How to Talk to People and Interact with Them Like a Human Being 101. Even with people I've known for years, sometimes I just don't have anything to say even when I've got a head full of things I want to say and the opportunity to say it.

But I've realized that I need to work harder at the conversations and the one-on-one, because people don't generally exist in e-mail.

So, this Lent round has been somewhat progressive. I've started with the self-imposed ban on superfluous e-mail. But I've been adding things to the overall experience as I go along. First, I've reintroduced myself to my phone. I have one. It's nice. I just tend not to use it. So, (likely much to the annoyance of people who aren't used to me calling them often, or much at all) I've made myself pick up the phone and call people when I have something to say, and sometimes even when I don't have much to say. It's an exercise in getting comfortable with the phone. I'm having some struggles with this because as it turns out, I am bad at phone. Who knew this was possible? But hopefully I'm not running too many people off by my awkward attempts to converse with them via this new-fangled gramophone thingy that I've discovered. (Although some people may wish that I'd just go back to sending e-mails and quit calling 108 times a day to match the 108 e-mails I usually send in a day...)

I've also added time. With people. Over the past couple of weeks I've made the effort not to turn down invitations to things that involve spending time with people. I've also made conscious decisions not to let things like a T.V. show I usually watch get in the way of picking up the phone and calling someone, or answering the phone when I get a call in the middle of the show. I'm generally selfish with my time when it comes to feeling like I haven't had enough time to myself, or just doing things I want to do that I'm used to doing by myself.

But it's not enough just to stop e-mailing, because if I stop the e-mail but don't bring in other ways to be with people, we will disappear from each other. No one will ever hear from me, and I will likely not hear from anyone if they think I only exist via e-mail. I have to also add other ways to keep in touch. So, I've been really busy these past couple of weeks. I've had to change my routine some (which is difficult for me being not entirely un-Rainman-like in many ways). I've spent more time with people than I'm comfortable with, being the reclusive writer-wannabe that I am. But it's been really good. Being with people is good. It's wearing me out, and I think that's just a personality trait that will always be a struggle. But it's good. I'll eventually find a good balance.

And, I've tried to think and act more in ways that aren't necessarily all about me. This has maybe been the hardest part for me. E-mail is really kind of selfish, I've come to realize. If I can't talk to someone, I can send an e-mail. And unless they decide not to read it, I'm essentially commanding their attention to say whatever I think I have to say right then. I'm not being patient enough to wait until I see them, or until they have time to listen to me, or even considering what may be going on with them before I dump a load of myself on them via a 108-page e-mail. And while it may be a stretch to relate it to e-mail, I can see this pattern in my life beyond e-mail.

So, I haven't accomplished all of what I originally set out to accomplish through giving up e-mail for Lent. I'm still working towards some other things that I have in mind as goals. But I've accomplished some unexpected things that I will consider a bonus. It's been much more of a personal inventory than I ever anticipated. I think essentially I'm searching for confidence in my ability to not hide in writing. I don't think I believe I exist much outside of what I can write, or e-mail. And that's a whole other can of large disgusting worms that will take time and effort for me to work through.

But this isn't to say I will never e-mail again. Sometimes there is absolutely a time and place for my funny e-mails, or even an e-mail for other reasons. It's a good invention, this e-mail. But my hope is to not ever let it be my main mode of communication.

I hope this phone-a-ma-jiggy thingy catches on.

C.T.

Ipod Update
I had no idea if this would work or not, but I've actually had several people sign up and show an interest in helping me with the free Ipod. But no offers have been completed.

Five offers have to be completed for me to get the Ipod.

If you've signed up or taken a look, I beg of you (in my weakened, sickened, pathetic-and-desperate state) to complete an offer. Just click through all the one-pagers to get to the better (and Ipod-earning) offers, and pick something. Blockbuster online?? Credit card? So many wonderful options.

Thank you, those of you who have at least looked at it and considered it. I appreciate it!

Free Ipod!

C.T.

Red String: Another "what were you thinking?" Moment
So, I'm home sick today. The Plague has returned. I'm worried that when I called in sick this morning, my voice was so deep that no one will know who it was that left the message saying I'm taking a sick day today.

In my weakened state, I finally decided that bathing myself might help me feel better. However, being so weak, standing for any length of time in a shower seemed like a good idea only if I wanted to turn into one of those Rescue 911 moments by passing out in the hot shower, falling against the glass shower door, and lying unconscious in shards of broken glass upon my bathroom floor, naked, until someone finally misses me a few days later and calls 911 to look for me. I determined this was not how I wanted to make my reality TV debut.

I opted for sitting in a bath instead.

Now, I'm not a regular bath taker. I prefer showers. But on occasion, I do enjoy the relaxing hot bath. Today, however, I managed to get the water temperature mixture not entirely correct. So I ended up with a lukewarm bath. This only made me want to power through my bath so I could get out of the increasingly cooling tub of tepid water. But, I needed to shave some legs.

I was not having a nice, relaxing bath experience.

Being weakened by my Plague, my hands are a bit shakey today. And as I was trying to hurry through the bath so I could get out and get into some warm clothes, consequently I cut myself. Twice. On the same knee.

Crap.

I got out of the tub, dried off, and began looking for the band-aids. My tub is in the Blue Loo, and even though I enjoy this bathroom immensely, it is not the bathroom I use daily. Hence the supplies in this bathroom are typically somewhat out of date, as I discovered when I finally found a box of band-aids.

I'm pretty sure it's the world's oldest box of band-aids. And it was a variety box. But not because it started out that way. It seemed to have turned into the box of random leftover band-aids from many an old box of band-aids. And what's more, it looked like a hand-me-down box of band-aids that was once likely owned by my parents. I don't remember ever purchasing several of the varieties of band-aids I found in this box. And I have no idea why I would have this box of old mismatched band-aids.

Quite a puzzler. Maybe it was here when I moved into the house....

Gross.

However this box of band-aids came to be, this was the box of band-aids I had to work with to cover the two bleeding cuts on my one sad knee. I pulled out what looked like two normal-esque band-aids, and attempted to get the band-aids out of the wrappers. This is when I knew I had the world's oldest band-aids.

Today's band-aids come in an easy-to-open peel-away package. You pull the flaps, and there is your band-aid. So simple!

Do you remember how one used to have to go about getting into a band-aid wrapper to the chewy band-aid center? You had to rip off the top, and then pull that ridiculously little red string from the top of the package all the way down to the bottom. If you grabbed the string wrong, it wouldn't pull. Then you had to try pulling it down the other side, which usually didn't work because by then the package was all wrinkly and not pull-able. Finally you had to completely forego the string and just rip into the package as best you could, all the while losing gallons of blood through your gaping wound that remained uncovered as you spent hours trying to get into one single band-aid package.

Now, my question is ... who is the genius who thought up the red string idea?? How did a group of people listen to this idea, think it was good, and then implement it worldwide into bazillions of band-aids for years and years and years?? Where was the person who implemented the new easier-to-use-and-makes-much-more-common-sense peel-apart packaging we are very thankful for today? Seriously. Band-aids are an emergency first-aid mechanism. Why make it as difficult as possible to open a life-saving device, and sell the band-aids that way for many, many years??

Not to mention, a small child could choke on that tiny red string. It's completely unsafe.

And where did all that string come from, anyway? Was there a band-aid red string plant somewhere overseas, manufacturing millions of 1.5 inch lengths of string sold only to band-aid packaging plants? And how did they get that tiny piece of string into all of those band-aid packages? Are there now millions of tiny-handed little people, or perhaps children, out of work because the red string idea finally became revealed as the stupidest contraption on earth?

These are my questions.

I finally got the band-aids out of the package and onto my knee. And, they may never come off. It's that super sticky old school glue that only grows stronger with time.

Man, it sucks being home sick. And now I'm worn out from the battle of the band-aid.

C.T.

Blatant Solicitation
Ok, so the merchandise hasn't exactly paid off. It's fun, but my fans seem to be too cheap to indulge in the Tyrant Gear.

So, now I beg of you to help me in another way. It's simple, and will make me very happy. Not to mention, I've been providing free entertainment here for you for over a year, asking very little in return....

Show me you love me. Help me get a free Ipod.

Now, you may think this is a scam. And sure, this is one of the most annoying things known to man, begging people to do these types of things with a "free" incentive. But I have never lied to you before, nor led you astray. I actually know a couple of people who have successfully done this thing and received free Ipods. Seriously. No joke.

And yes, I've actually sunk this low. Begging for your help. And here is my sob story.

My current MP3 player is at least four years old, is held together by a rubberband, was nearly recently put out of its misery by the battery leaking inside of it, skips and shuts off when I move too much, and holds a maximum of 17 songs. It's a priceless antique that I can really no longer use, and I am about to start training again for a 100-mile bike event. Music while I spend hours on a bike will make the training almost heavenly.

All it involves is merely FIVE of you participating in one of the offers, making sure to sign up through my link so that I get credit for you, and then I magically get a free Ipod mini.

If you've thought of joining Blockbuster online, or a CD or DVD club, these are a few of the types of offers. And you can quit any time. You just have to sign-up, complete the basic offer, and let me get credit for your hard work.

I, too, have to complete an offer. So I'm not asking you to do anything I am not also doing. All for a free Ipod. Plus, get five people you know to do it and earn yourself a free Ipod.

You will have my undying gratitude, the peace and joy that comes from knowing you've made The Tyrant very happy, and more great blogging that comes from a happy Tyrant who is soothed by the music you helped her be able to listen to.

Ready, set, free Ipod.

C.T.

Guest blogger....

Come to me now
And lay your hands over me
Even if it's a lie
Say it will be alright
And I shall believe

I'm broken in two
And I know you're on to me
That I only come home
When I'm so all alone
But I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly you won't give up on me
And I shall believe
And I shall believe

Open the door
And show me your face tonight
I know it's true
No one heals me like you
And you hold the key

Never again
would I turn away from you
I'm so heavy tonight
But your love is alright
And I do believe

That not everything is gonna be the way
You think it ought to be
It seems like every time I try to make it right
It all comes down on me
Please say honestly
You won't give up on me
And I shall believe
I shall believe

- Sheryl Crow

I don't really know what to call this.
But it's a moment of introspection.

So I am no longer of legal age for American Idol. I celebrated this momentous occasion over the weekend by gathering some friends and taking a roadtrip to see the traveling version of The Price is Right gameshow. It's a lifelong dream of mine to be on the real version of the show. So when I saw that the live version of the show was coming to Shreveport, I decided that this would do for now.

We traveled. Friend C made annoying t-shirts for each of us to wear to the show (all of which saying something related to it being my birthday). And we participated in the audience of the show. Sadly, none of us were called to "come on down!" AND, there was no Plinko - a MAJOR tragedy in my world. But, it was super fun anyway. Friends A, C, M, and Z made Birthday 29 a fabulous event. Priceless, is about right.

I tell you, even if there had been no Price is Right, it would almost have been worth it just to wear my shirt that said "It's My Birthday!" all day. People are so nice to you when it's your birthday and your shirt says so..... and you tell them you just turned 21. I may wear this shirt once a week, just for the attention it brings from total strangers.

So as I sit here home alone again at 29, something has been on my mind lately. And maybe this is a good time for some introspection that would lead to good changes for me. Here's what it is:

I'm afraid of everything.

Yep. Everything.

I used to think I wasn't afraid of anything. Or very little, at the most. I've always been "tough". Quiet, independent, with the tendency to handle anything that comes along on my own. I don't know why, but I've tended to feel like I need to always present a front of never being phased by things that are hard, or painful, or scary. I'm usually calm, cool, and collected in most situations. And I tend not to say anything about things that scare me until it gets really scary and I can't help but say something. It's usually been on my mind awhile at this point.

But, things happen. Worlds change. Personal strength becomes a load of crap. And suddenly you're left with what is really inside of all the "strength" and "fearlessness" you built around it for people to see instead of what you know to be true. Nothing is left to hide behind anymore. For me, I've come to realize that I have a lot of fear. That's what is inside. And that's what I don't like for people to see.

I don't know that it would be beneficial to go into detail about the things I fear, even just lately. I've been sick, and that has caused me a great deal of anxiety on a number of things related to it. I fear roadtrips. I'm afraid of not having enough money. I'm afraid I've made bad life decisions. I fear getting older and not finding that "someone" we all think is out there, but may not be. I'm scared of being alone, and not in the sense of going home at night, but in the sense of really being an island unto myself. I fear losing people that are important to me in my life. I fear letting people down when it really counts. I'm afraid I'm not what people need me to be when they need it.

I'm afraid that much of my life matters little when it comes to the things that really should matter in life.

But, why do I think this way? Why do I immediately worry that I may fail? Or that the news will be the worst? Or that something bad will happen? Or that people will leave?

Why am I so afraid of so much?

I don't have an answer to that question. Sure, things have happened at times to justify the basis for these kinds of fears. But, I've realized maybe just in the last few weeks that I have a lot of fear in my life in general. I've especially had a lot of anxiety about not feeling well these past few weeks, and about visiting the doctor last week. I don't like to admit the anxiety or the fears I have, but they creep into my dreams when I don't look straight at them and deal with them. This is when I know I'm really afraid of something, or worried, or having anxiety. If I dream about it, I'm likely not dealing with something that I need to deal with.

I've had a lot of anxiety dreams lately.

So as I come to the end of my roaring twenties, maybe it's time to look at this stuff and figure out what is so scary. And then, not let it set the tone for what comes after 29.

It's exhausting to let fear have such an influence on my life. It hasn't been intentional. But it's there, nonetheless.

I see it.

C.T.

WHY DID NO ONE TELL ME????
As I settled in to watch what was left of American Idol tonight, only THEN did I learn that the maximum age for this season had been raised to.... 28!!!

PEOPLE, I will be 28 for 4 MORE DAYS!!!

I COULD HAVE AUDITIONED!!! I COULD HAVE BEEN THE WORLD'S OLDEST AMERICAN IDOL!!!

But more importantly, I COULD HAVE BEEN RIDICULED ON NATIONAL TELEVISION IN FRONT OF MILLIONS OF PEOPLE!!!

I know 20 or so who would really enjoy seeing that.

In the future, I need to be immediately alerted to any and all rule changes for any of the important reality TV shows. These are important details, people. Especially if they raise the maximum age to 30 on America's Next Top Model.

I would definitely try-out for geriatric modeling. I could show those young anorexic whipper-snappers a thing or two....

Oh well. The evening was not a total loss. Jonthan and Victoria finally yelled at each other enough to put them in last place and out of the race on TAR6. I have a feeling Phil wasn't genuinely sorry to tell them they've both been eliminated from the race.

My favorite moment on tonight's TAR6? As Jonathan walks down a dirt path, shoes untied, clad only in his underwear and covered in mud, he tells a whimpering and complaining Victoria to "have a little dignity". Or some variation thereof.

Um, dude? Do you realize you have no pants on? The impoverished Ethiopians standing around you are wearing more clothes than you are.

I have to admit, I'll miss their antics. But I will be glad for the break from the weekly over-indulgence of spousal abuse. It's just been brutal.

I hope those kids make it. To counseling. Soon.

C.T.

My radio seems to be broken
And I'm pretty sure Kelly Clarkson broke it.

Now, before all my American Idol friends hunt me down to punish me for blemishing the good name of our beloved American Idol (which premiers again on Tuesday!), let me explain.

Usually when driving in the Jeep, I have a CD in the stereo, playing too loudly, to which I am likely singing, also too loudly. But recently I've discovered that I'm sick of all my CDs, I don't know what kind of music I want to listen to, and I don't want to spend any money on new CDs. Mostly because I don't have any money lying around for CD purposes.

So, I have resorted to rediscovering the radio. This has been a disappointing decision.

First, I don't know what radio stations to listen to. This is really bad. I've lived here for over 10 years, so one would think I should know the radio stations. Yet, I do not. I mean, I know the basic stations. But where do I go to find all the music everyone listens to these days? Where do I find new music to fill this current music-void that I am experiencing? (NOTE: I have a music-void once or twice a year. It's nothing new for me. And I usually end up back with my BeeGees or a mixed CD I made myself of old stuff that I'm embarrassed to listen to, and which I've probably titled Cool Music or the name of some independent band that I should be listening to like all my friends do, but for some reason I've missed that music boat and have not yet discovered why everyone likes said band - all in an effort to disguise the fact that my 'cool' CD has Wilson Phillips and Vanilla Ice on it.)

Admit it, you sing along to Hold On when it comes on the radio, too. It's ok. Embrace it, and just hold on for one more day.

Anyway, secondly, despite having owned the Jeep now for almost 2.5 years, I discovered last week that I haven't yet programmed all the radio buttons. I just don't listen to radio, so I guess I've never needed to program all the pre-sets. I have maybe five of them programmed, and only two of them are stations I'd actually listen to. Another one is the 'safe' station for when parents or actual grown-ups are in the Jeep with me. And the rest are static or whatever was programmed in when the Jeep came into my possession. It's embarrassing, really. What if someone got in the Jeep and started scrolling through my pre-set stations? I wouldn't survive it. I would be mocked, then ridiculed, and then mocked again. I must find the proper radio stations and promptly put them into my pre-sets. I won't be able to hold people off the radio buttons much longer...

Third, morning radio is just pure torture. I've determined that yes, I hate radio. On my drive to work it just doesn't satisfy in any way, shape, or form. I want music, people! Not talking. I can't sing along to stupid DJs talking for 10 minutes about how they don't know how to fix a drawer in their house and if they should hire a general contractor for that sort of work. Who cares?!? Or DJs doing annoying bits where they go to a mall and harrass innocent people because they think it's funny. All of that is highly annoying. Not entertaining. Why can't they just play the music I am looking for? I blame the radio for my lack of music at this point in life.

And finally, Kelly Clarkson. This is my most startling and frustrating discovery of my week in car radio hell. Now, I have nothing against Kelly Clarkson personally. I was a fan of hers on the original American Idol. I am glad she has done well for herself. And as far as annoying Idols go, she's the least of the annoying. In fact, I don't even disklike the songs I've heard this week.

BUT, why must I hear her two new songs EVERY TIME I GET IN THE CAR..... MORE THAN ONCE!!!!

THIS is my problem. Kelly Clarkson owns all the radio stations.

IT'S JUST TOO MUCH!!!

I drove home from a friend's house Friday night. 10 minutes in the car. Heard Kelly Clarkson TWICE, TWO DIFFERENT SONGS, TWO DIFFERENT STATIONS.

WHAT IS UP???

For the first day or so, I fought it. When I'd hear her come on a station, I'd change the station. Her songs are fine enough, but I just wanted more variety. More music. It was too much of an okay thing. But I quickly realized this was a losing battle. She's on all the stations. All the time. Even my pre-set stations that are only static. She's there. I swear it...

So, after my week of radio research and my search for new music, I have arrived at two conclusions. One, I need to go back to listening to CDs in the Jeep. Clearly, the radio is broken and I will be much better off controlling my own music in the Jeep. And two, I should apparently inaugurate my return to CD-listening by getting the new Kelly Clarkson CD, since that seems to be what everyone listens to these days.

I hate radio.

C.T.

Way Overdue Movie Review
I didn't have any big plans for New Year's this year, with several things falling through for one reason or another. So, I've decided to make a movie marathon of all this free time, cramming in as many movies as possible throughout these few days I have off and mostly to myself.

I'm several movies in to my marathon, and today I feel like I need to give a review of one of these movies: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Everyone has seen it. It's nothing new. But here's my take on it having seen it again today, if you're interested...

Tyrant's Home-Alone-for-the-New-Year-Rating = 4 out of 5 kisses
(kisses awarded due to the fact that I'm not getting any kisses for the New Year, so some movies might as well get some)

My first viewing of this movie several months ago left me unable to like the movie. I enjoyed the look of it. It's a beautifully made film. And I enjoyed Jim Carrey. Can't help it, I'm a sucker for the guy. Although I hate most of his dumb-and-dumber-type movies. But despite the cinematography in Sunshine, I didn't set well with this film.

I was hung up on the idea that someone would even create a movie suggesting the possibility that given the opportunity, people would erase other people from their memories. Good or bad, the people who affect our lives are given to us for a reason. And as the movie shows, when you start taking away the bad memories, you are still left with the good ones. I, for one, have a strong desire to keep the good ones. But all of the memories come as a package deal. It's all worth keeping, painful as some of it may be, because it is the sum total of the experience, or the relationship. It has value, even if we don't want it anymore. I don't like the thought of getting to pick and choose who would stay or be removed from my past, based on whatever occured (good or bad) to no longer keep someone in my future.

And who is to say I wouldn't be (or I'm not currently) on someone else's hit list to be erased from their past? That's a scary thought. How would you know how many people had decided you aren't worth having in their past, and they've erased you? Not only are they removing you from their life, they are taking themselves away from you. It really makes you think about where you fit into the lives of the people you know and have known. Do you have to always perform well to be worth keeping for the good things, or to be worthy of being remembered in a favorable light? Or when it starts to go bad, is that the moment when it's ok to wish it all away? Who is worth hanging on to, even when bad stuff creeps in? Will the bad stuff be the only thing we can see, once it enters? Or can we be open enough to working past it, or seeing through it. And if we could erase the whole of anyone who affected our life in some way, wouldn't it be safe to say that we are effectively affecting who we are now, too?

I largely believe we are who we are in part because people throughout our lives have left bits of themselves with us, through shared experiences and time spent learning and knowing each other and different ways to go through life, to help form who we are on this day, right now, and days to come. Taking any part of that away, good or bad, would ultimately change who I am right now. But do we get to have that much control over who influences us, to the point of removing things after the fact, to avoid what is painful and bad? Should we even toy with this idea? The first time I saw the movie, I was mad at the thought that anyone would present this as a viable idea. I didn't take it as a storyline, or a way to communicate something deeper. I was just upset that anyone would create a story that would involve taking people away, because we are selfish about who we keep. It just all seemed really selfish.

I think I was struggling with the reality that once people really are gone, you can't get them back. And even when there are bad things, it's mixed in with good things. And the bad things don't make it all worth throwing away from our past. When it's too late and all we have are memories, I don't want to be caught not having appreciated what I had when I had it. Or having only focused on the bad so that I missed what was good.

Having shared some of this thought with people who have seen and liked the movie from the first time, I've been given other perspectives on the movie and other ideas about what it really means. Most people seem to really like it. I decided I needed to give it another chance. After watching it again today, I have a more favorable opinion of it. I don't often like to admit I've changed my mind about something that I feel strongly about, nor do I like to admit other people may have a good perspective on something that is different than mine. But the high kiss rating is awarded to Sunshine because the movie makes me think, and I like that about a movie. Even if I can't necessarily like the movie itself.

I do like it a bit better, though. The romance story is good, and I like watching two people just do stuff together. Silly, goofy stuff that only makes sense to them, but is love.

What stood out to me today was a line from Clementine towards the end, when Joel is walking away from the beach house that is slowly falling apart, and Clementine leans out the window and says, "what if this time, you stay?" She is suggesting that he changes the memory as it fades, and to see what might have happened if he had stayed that night. I've struggled with this in my own memories, thinking back and wishing I had done something different, or something had happened differently at the time, and what it would be like if that moment could be changed. What if this time, I stay? What if this time, I don't let my fear of something more keep me from staying? What if this time, I'm there when I couldn't be before? What if this time, there is something I could have done? What if this time, they don't go? What if this time, they wake up?

What if faced with the exact same choice, would I make the same choice again? Or thinking beyond things we can't change in the past, how often do we fail the opportunity to choose something different? It's like pizza. I love pizza. And I always get pepperoni. I know I like it. But what if this time I actually get a menu and consider another option? What if I think outside of what I know is safe, and instead try something new? I might end up with two kinds of pizza that I like.... Or if I don't like it, it's only pizza.

Ultimately, it doesn't change anything to think back in our memories and wonder what would have happened if we'd made a different choice. Or to make a different choice in our head and see where that leads our imagination. It doesn't change the reality. And we see this in the film. But I think it's ok to think of other possibilities, and wonder what would be different now if things had been different then. Sometimes, I really want things to be different. Should we never think of what might have been? Or can this maybe help us think differently when faced with similar things again in the future? We make choices, and those choices lead to the next step, which takes us to the next place in our lives. Different choices will lead to different things. But I think the trick is that we can't change it once it's happened. Instead, we have to deal with what comes next. And that is the true test.

Wanting things to be different, though, is not necessarily a bad thing. Well, if we constantly go through life wishing things were different, that's not good. At some point we have to be content with our choices, or else start making better choices. But wondering at what could have been different and wanting that possibility sometimes, I don't think that's bad. As long as that doesn't become our reality - changing things in our own perception to the point that we believe the altered version. But I think wondering what a different outcome might have been means we recognize the significance of that moment, or that person, or that choice. And we realize that even given the ability to make choices, we are not ultimately in control. Giving up the control and being okay with that is the challenge before us. Doing what comes next without being able to control it despite making a choice one way or another, that takes faith.

I was also struck by how painful it would be to hear what the people who know you best really think of you when they talk knowing you will never hear what they have to say about you. Complete honesty. Joel and Clementine made the tapes never thinking the other would hear these thoughts about the other. But they end up hearing what the other had to say anyway. And, they hear their own words about what they really thought of the other. The things we deny about ourselves, the things we don't like to admit, the things we try to hide. The things we don't feel safe saying to those we love, out of love for them. Do we ever really hide this stuff from everyone? Or from anyone? Or even from oursevles? Can people see these things about us, and still really love us and want to be with us? And can we handle hearing it directly from them, trusting that they love us enough to tell us?

I don't know that I handle honesty about myself very well, coming from those around me who would know me well enough and care enough to challenge me where I need to grow. I know some people who would agree with me on that, having likely not responded kindly to criticisms out of caring for me. But I should be able to hear these things from them, if they care enough to tell me. I think I appreciate it on some level, and would prefer that people who I'm close to in life not let me continue in ways that aren't healthy. But I can't say I handle that well. It's hard to hear, and to know that people know.

I also thought about how hard it is to run from ourselves and those in our past, no matter how hard we try. You really can't run from it. It goes with you. We can move on without them, but that doesn't make them never a part of our history. We can leave things about ourselves in our past, but we can't take it away from who we are now. We can move it around in our head, change the way we remember it, but that doesn't change the reality.

At the end of the movie, Clementine and Joel are in the hallway of his building, trying to figure out what to do. Having heard all these horrible things from each other, about each other, do they try again? I like how Clementine explains again that she is just a messed up girl looking for her own piece of mind, as though that's an excuse for how she is, and an explanation for not being perfect. And Joel just simply says, "ok." Lately I've realized that sometimes, I just need to say, "ok." More often. Just let people be who they are, and be "ok" enough to want that from them.

And the thought occured to me as I watched Joel and Clementine in the hallway, at the beginning of each other again, do we ever really get to start over? The day before, they thought they had never met. Clean slate. Then they get those tapes with all their dirty laundry on it, and now they are faced with the choice to start over, or to walk away. When we know the faults of others, and have experienced these things with them, do we get to start over? They knew in the hallway that they liked each other. But then, there's all this other stuff they would likely find out about each other if they try again. Tough to let it go and let it truly be starting over, when you know what is really there. Or maybe when you do know what is really there underneath all the other stuff, it allows you to start over. And over again. And again.

Given the opportunity, I don't think I would erase anyone from my past. Sure, I have people and occurances that I would prefer to never think of again. There are really painful things that I don't talk about, and I prefer not to share with others. But I don't want it to not be there. These things have shaped me. I don't always like myself on any given day, or aspects about who I am now.

But I don't think I want the responsibility of being able to control what would stay and what would go, or take the chance that anything I could change would affect who I really am. This is me.

Good movie.

C.T.

I hate doctors.
Not that they aren't useful when I need them, nor do I hate people I know who are doctors, nor do I hate the people themselves in the world that are doctors. If you are a doctor, I am happy for you and I'm sure you and I could be friends. But all in all, I find it an annoying profession.

Today I went to the doctor. I am not sick. Nor did I think I was sick. Nor did the doctor-office-people think I was sick when I called for an appointment. But, my refills on a prescription I take regularly ran out, and the pharmacist and my doctor conspired against me by refusing to give me any more of my drugs until I go see the doctor again.

Or, as I hear it in my head, until I take a morning from work, drive across town to his office, and give him money to tell me I'm still fine and write his name on a piece of paper that tells the pharmacist to give me my drugs.

A month or so ago when I tried to refill my prescription and they wouldn't let me, I was told to go see my doctor to get another prescription. So, I forgot about it for a month, hoping I could get by without it. I decided I can't. And the doctor knows this. It's part of his scheme to keep me coming.

So, last week I finally call to make an appointment and I'm told he is booked until March. MARCH. Um, I just need a prescription. I'm fine not seeing him til March, or ever. It's not him I really want to see. But I am not fine doing without my drugs until March, when it is convenient for him to see me to tell me I'm fine. I remind them that I am not actually sick, and the purpose of my call is just to get my drugs that I've been taking daily for the past several years. The appointment-making-person tells me the nurse will call me back and we'll figure something out.

Ok then.

The nurse calls later and says, yes, I do have to see a doctor to get the prescription, but I can see another doctor in the office. Really? This counts? Then I'm all for it. Whatever I need to do and whoever I can see to get my drugs before March. She books me with another doctor for today.

THEN she tells me that I will need to arrive 20 minutes early to fill out New Patient paperwork, since it's been over a year since they've seen me. Um... what? New patient? Check my chart, please. It's the thick one they usually have to wheel in on a cart of its own. I visited that office every week for three years to get allergy shots. During that time everyone in the office knew who I was by name when they saw me arrive. I've been going there for so long that all of those people have since left, and they have completely remodeled the office and replaced the familiar people with new Pod People who don't know me. I've spent enough money on co-pays there to put at least several of my doctor's kids through college, a few times. I am CERTAINLY not a new patient! I scoff at this paperwork.

At least call it 'Patient We Haven't Seen in Awhile and Miss Dearly' paperwork.

Nevertheless, the nurse insisted I would have to fill out the paperwork again. There was no talking her out of it.

Bugger.

Today I happen to be off from work, which means I have time to see the doctor. But it also means I have to waste part of a perfectly good sleeping-in day to go down to his office. It's across town. Bugger again.

So, I drive there. It takes 20-ish minutes. I park in the lot where I have to ride the shuttle to the building where his office is. It's a familiar routine. One that I do not miss, and am annoyed to have to do again today.

I arrive 25 minutes early, much to my dismay. I had debated the actual truth to the need for a 20 minute early arrival. Clearly this new nurse does not know who I am, because if she did she would know that I am quicker than most people at menial things, like paperwork. I know this about myself. So this morning I have the debate about whether I really need those 20 minutes, or if I can do the paperwork in say... 10 minutes. I've done the paperwork before, and it's not like anything has changed. I don't have any new diseases to report.

Finally I leave the house, and end up getting there way too early at 25 minutes before my appointment. BUGGER. I could have slept for at least 10 more minutes this morning.

I fill out this paperwork in 7 minutes flat, and then sit. And wait. Finally a large man-nurse comes to retrieve me from my waiting, and he takes me to the next little room. Where I am weighed. And my blood pressure is taken. All as though I've never been there before. When the truth is that I've been there so many times, I could do all of this myself.

The large man-nurse comments as he looks through the 108 gazillion pages of my Monster Chart, "Oh, I see you've met Barbara." Yes, I've met Barbara. She was the nurse who gave me my allergy shots every week for much of the three years I came for allergy shots. I've spent lots of quality time with Barbara. I think I was on her family Christmas card one year. Let's get on with this!!

Large man-nurse then leads me back to the tiny Doctor room, where I wait a bit more. Not long, though. Because I'm here to see the doctor that isn't booked until March, and who has too much time on his hands today. My doctor, the superior familiar doctor, is too busy for me now that I'm only in need of prescriptions, and not in need of say.... more invasive surgery to my head.

New Doctor Man comes in, again with large man-nurse (I guess he's there just to get in on the fun of a completely pointless and adventure-less consultation about my sinuses that are currently problem-free), and we begin. Doctor asks me why I'm there. I say I'm there to get my drugs. He then takes my glasses off, I guess so I can't see the "magic" he is about to perform on me and my healthy sinuses. He looks me over. He sticks some utensils up my nose just because they are there and need to be used. He squirts some junk up my nose to 'help him see in there better', and then reports that all seems well in the realm of my sinus cavity.

Yes, that's what I've been saying all along. And I've been saying it for free. Although... for just a minute in all the 'looking me over' I did fear that he would discover something terrible and I would regret coming to the doctor once again. I usually seem fine before I go. It's after I get there and they have a chance to poke around that I end up with some awful disease or condition that requires months of treatment or surgery and more doctors.

Sometimes I think it's the doctors and the offices that actually make me sick.

He writes me a prescription. The coveted prescription I've journeyed far to acquire, and have now been needlessly tortured with sinus utensils to earn.

Then I am led to the Pay For This Pointless 10-Minute Appointment desk, where I hand over 25 hard-earned dollars, and I'm sent on my way.

He did give me a free sample of my drugs to hold me for a week or so.

That was nice.

But not worth the drive or the loss of $25, which would have otherwise been used for something much more fun than a trip to the doctor.

Bugger.

C.T.

I'm pretty much good for one thing
And that one thing is spotting famous people in airports, and then riding on planes with them.

It's a long list of non-A-list celebrities that I can claim as people I've seen in airports: Aaron the Bachelor on my flight from L.A., Gary Busey on my parents' flight to Tulsa (I saw him get off the plane), Ed McMahon on my flight to L.A. Just to name a few of the really special ones.

And to add another name to my list, Friend A and I had the distinct pleasure of flying to Costa Rica last week with Stephan Jenkins, none other than the lead singer of Third Eye Blind.

We arrived at the airport extraordinarily early. We had several hours to kill before our flight. Was I annoyed? Frustrated? Bored? Of course not! One of my favorite pasttimes is watching people. And the main reason why is because if I look hard enough, I'll eventually find someone famous.

We sat. Friend A read a book. I stared at people walking by. Eventually, a tall guy walked by and caught my eye. He was on a cell phone. And he was pushing one of those luggage carts that people use to carry lots of luggage. Except his contained one solitary carry-on size piece of luggage.

I thought he looked familiar, but said nothing. I continued to watch.

Awhile later, he walked by again. Going the same direction. With his cart. And one piece of tiny luggage. Maybe that one piece of carry-on luggage was REALLY heavy. But it just looked odd. I determied that clearly this guy was famous, because he was fancy enough to need a cart for his carry-on.

He still talked on his cell phone. And this time, I got a better look at him. And.... I knew.

It was the guy from Third Eye Blind.

I told Friend A. Why? Only because it was interesting to me. Friend A tends to know nothing about music, and even less about pop culture as related to music. I knew she would have no idea who he was. But, I'd just spent the last hour or so staring at people. It had finally paid off. Someone was going to know about it.

Surprisingly, Friend A seemed to have heard of the band. And as a fellow admirer of famous people (as she says, "famous people are better than us") she was immediately intrigued. She told me to go talk to him. This posed a problem.

First, he was already a good ways down the terminal again. Walking even further away as we stared after him. I had no intentions of chasing him down to talk to him. And second, I had no idea what his name was. I just knew his face and who he belonged to, and a song or two. I can't very well go talk to some famous guy without knowing his name.

Friend A started calling people. She eventually tracked down her brother, who knew the guy's name. Stephan Jenkins. I confirmed this detail on my cell phone with a quick Google search on the internet. It probably cost me more than a seat at a Third Eye Blind concert would cost me, but I likes my gadgets. It was imperative to confirm this information. Thank goodness I have the fun phone.

Upon confirmation of the name, I noticed that he was back in our area. And not only in our area, he was checking on our flight. OUR FLIGHT!!!

Yes, Stephan Jenkins appeared to be going with us to Costa Rica. For Thanksgiving. And... he was alone.

We got on the plane, because the airplane people told us to. Our seats were the first row behind the first class section, so I set myself up for a prime view of our new famous friend who would surely be seated in first class. Sure enough, as the last passengers filed onto the plane, there he was. Just a few rows ahead of me.

Interesting.

We flew to Costa Rica. I did not talk to him. I did see him get up to go to the bathroom, but unlike the Bachelor plane trip, I did not go in after he came out. I remained in my seat. With my seatbelt fastened. Because the airplane people told me to.

We landed and stumbled off the plane, heading to the immigration line. I figured Stephan would be lost in the crowd and we would never see him again. But as we came around the corner to the large crowd of people waiting to get through immigration.... there he was. At the end of a line. A line in which we parked ourselves directly behind him.

So, now we were in Costa Rica in the immigration line with Stephan Jenkins of Third Eye Blind.

Oh yes. We were.

And... he turned and looked at me. I swear he did. He knew that I knew who he was. How? Because this is the one thing I'm good for. Finding famous people. We have a connection.

Friend A and I began discussing his musical repertoire. I knew Semi-Charmed Kind of Life, and proceeded to serenade Friend A. Quietly. So as not to disturb Stephan. She recognized the song and became excited that maybe this guy really was famous. Because clearly if I sing a song and point at a guy as though he is the one who really sings the song, he must be famous and I must know what I'm talking about. It's as good as scientific proof.

Then we discovered the ultimate confirmation of our famous person sighting. There, in the back pocket of Stephan's jeans for the whole world to see, was his immigration paperwork. And there at the very top of the page in large block black letters.... was his name. Printed. Clearly.

STEPHAN JENKINS.

Friend A and I both saw it. And at that time I decided that my fun phone needed to be put to use again.

I took a picture of Stephan Jenkin's butt. With my camera phone.

Oh yes. I did. He is on my phone even as I type.

Now, the picture is blurry. And you can't make out the name on the form in his pocket. But, we know what it is. We know what it says. We know what we saw.

I never quite felt like I was fan enough to talk to him. We watched as he passed through immigration with his one carry-on bag, and vanished down the escalator and into the night. We felt sure that Costa Rica was a small enough country that we would surely run into him again, repeatedly, throughout our trip.

But, we didn't.

I'm just glad I'm good for such an important thing.

Because famous people are better than us.

C.T.

Not getting any younger.
Why does it seem like the Oldest Person in the U.S. dies every week?

Maybe I just pick the wrong days to read the news. But it seems like I read fairly regularly that another oldest person has died. Is it the same old person fooling us every time? Not really dead, but just enjoying making the headlines each week? Or are we just experiencing a rash of oldest people losing the will to stay the oldest.

Whatever the case may be, things aren't looking good for whoever is the next youngest. Good thing she's likely too old to see to read about these other oldest people.

C.T.

Welcome Again, Race Fans.
And by race, of course I mean the new season of The Amazing Race.

I know you thought I given up my pursuit and commentary on the sport of reality television. But I assure you, even though I have less time to write about it, I still watch as much of it as I can. It is my reality.

Tonight's season premier of TAR6 did not disappoint. I learned some very important things from this first episode:

1. Apparently one team of Colin and Christie was not enough last season. We now have no less than 8 teams of Colins and Christies this season, all of which yell at each other, belittle each other, and throw hissy fits every time something doesn't go their way. While there are many to choose from, the couple that has taken an early lead as the Most Like Colin/Christie Replacements (and dare I say, even more Colin and Christie-esque than Colin and Christie themselves) are Jonathan and Victoria. Seriously, I would not be surprised if their team is actually sponsored by Colin and Christie. It's impressive that I hate Jonathan already, and I just want to slap Victoria for marrying him.

2. As begun in the previous season of TAR, this season it is not only recommended, but it is required to use 'Baby' to refer to your partner at all times. Such as, "Baby, hury! Hurry, Baby!", and the shortened form of, "BABY!" which simply means, "Come on! Go faster! You're an idiot! But I love you! You're pretty!" I'm fairly sure the only reason the team members even have names other than Baby is so that Phil can tell which Baby's are which when they hit the Pit Stop Mat. Next week I would love to hear him say, "Babies, you are Team Number Two." Every time someone makes it to the pit stop. That would be sweet.

3. I fear TAR has enacted an Affirmative Action process of some sort, in that a certain large percentage of teams must be models. People not of model stature are in the minority. Therefore, the Tyrant predicts that a team of models will win this race, simply because the non-model teams are few in number. Our only hope is that the models are as stupid as they are pretty. And that the models are more stupid than the Wrestlers, and the team that can't read 'diesel' on the gas tank.

4. If you are one of the model teams, you must begin all of your sentences during the interview sessions with, "As models, ...." This is very important. Otherwise the whole world may not know you are models, and this will somehow affect how you function in society. In fact, I may begin speaking that way, so as to let everyone know that I may be a model. Or perhaps, a writer. "As a writer, I ...." It's impressive, right? Much like, "As models, we travel extensively ..." And... what. Therefore you know what planes look like?? That's a definite advantage.

Also, I would love to see the following Throw Downs throughout the course of the Race:
- Adam (Tiny Hellboy) vs. Bolo (My Neck is Cutting Off the Blood to my Brain)
- Bolo vs. Jonathan (Please Match My Pace or Be Ahead of Me At All Times)
- Kris (Oops, I'm Not Britney Spears) vs. Rebecca (Diesel? What? You mean, Vin? Oh... right.)
- Lori (I'm Really the Man) vs. Her Own Mouth

Aaah, I can hardly wait for next week. The start of TAR6 promises much entertainment for me.

These are good times.

And, lest you think I'd also forgotten my other favorite reality show, as an America's Next Top Model watcher, I am thoroughly involved in yet another great season of model mayhem. Tyra has done it again, and Janice never fails to disappoint with a random comment that makes no sense whatsoever. Truly, she is the star of the show. And will be for years to come, as long as the warranty doesn't expire on any of her body parts.

Long Live Models on Reality TV!

C.T.

I might need that later
I have a lot of stuff in my kitchen. Not tons of stuff. But my kitchen is pretty well stocked.

Here is why that is weird:
1. I don't really cook.
I mean, I do cook. I eat at home most of the time. But I only cook about six different things, on a random rotation. And much of it involves 'heating up' and 'from a can or box'. Technically, some of it is really cooking. I make a few things from my mom's or my grandmother's recipes. But technically, most of it is really not so much cooking.

2. I didn't buy most of the stuff in my kitchen.
My mom did. I'm pretty sure I purchased the paper plates, and some forks. From time to time she feels like I need things to have a complete kitchen, or a 'respectable' kitchen. Because someday I may need to cook something for someone for some reason, and then host twelve people to witness the event. So, she will buy me things. Like the waffle iron. Or the Fry Daddy. Or a set of bowls. I have full sets of plates, and some serving dishes, and cooking utensils, and mugs, and more cups and glasses than I could ever use in a month if I were to use a different glass everyday for a month. It all looks great in my cabinets. And I'm glad to have it. I love all of it. But most of it rarely gets used.

3. Somehow in all of the stuff I have, I don't have a complete set of flatware.
This is the really odd thing. I can serve twelve people on plates and bowls and matching glasses. But the forks they use will be an odd assortment of different sets. I have a partial set of flatware that my parents gave me when I went to college. It was our family set, and I inherited it because it was missing several pieces, and my parents wanted a good reason for a new set. It has served me well. I also have a cheap set that I got at some point in college, I guess when I decided I needed more than three forks. And, earlier this year I discovered I still do not have enough forks, but I also did not want to purchase an entire set of flatware. So, I went to Bed, Bath, and Beyond to their Clearance section, and picked out five forks from the 'random flatware bin'. They are five different forks. And I love them. It's eclectic.

But, as I do things in my kitchen, despite all of the stuff that is in there, I run into the same issue time and again. I have things to use. But, I am reluctant to use them for whatever I am doing.... in case I might really need it later.

For example, just now I was making some tea. I have a jar of spice tea that I made last winter (again, not cooking - just mixing). The tea is still good, but it is now one chunk of tea, rather than something I can spoon out with a mere spoon. I decided I needed to hack it up so that I could then spoon it out. So, I went to my Drawer of Many Utensils and saw that I have a wide variety of utensils which could serve as a hacking/poking device.

And yet, I tried to talk myself out of using any of them. For fear that I may need it for something later, before I've had a chance to wash it. Then what would I do???

I might need it.

What if I'm making something tomorrow that requires the use of this long, two-pronged utensil that is in my drawer but I've never seen before? What will I do???

Usually, I'll close the drawer and make-do with the spoon. Or, go without tea. I need to leave the Utensil of Ambiguous Use for whatever requires it's use, someday.

But today, I decided that I have these utensils for a reason. And I should use them.... to get my tea. NOW!

If I need it later, I will use something else then..... that I might need later.

C.T.

I would buy you a monkey.
Haven't you always wanted a monkey?

I'm going to Costa Rica for Thanksgiving. Naturally, to celebrate Thanksgiving as my Costa Rican pilgrims and forefathers did many years ago.

There are monkeys in Costa Rica. I'm very excited about this.

Today I spent some time thinking about my need for a monkey. It had not occured to me in the past that I might need a monkey. But since they are abundant in Costa Rica, if one accidentally came home with me I could put it to good use.

It would be disease-free, of course. This is not the beginning of Outbreak: The Tyrant Infects Texas with a Monkey from Costa Rica.

The functions of the monkey are to be:
- A fetching monkey, to fetch things for me. Like paperclips.
- A typing monkey, to type my blog (or novel) as I dictate.
- A get-me-more-coffee monkey, to get me more coffee.
- A wash-my-car monkey, to wash the Jeep.
- A tell-me-I'm-pretty monkey, to tell me I'm pretty often. Especially when I first wake up in the morning.
- A bake-me-a-pie monkey, to bake me a pie whenever I want a pie. Sometimes, you just want pie.
- A pick-up-the-phone-and-order-me-a-pizza monkey. For when I need pizza.
- A laundry-folding monkey, to fold and put away my laundry. I can handle doing the laundry. But it never seems to really get put away before I wear it again.
- A lawn-mowing monkey. To mow and do general yardwork.
- A laugh-at-me-when-I'm-funny monkey. I just need to be laughed at sometimes.

So, quite obviously a monkey would be put to good use.

I can't believe I didn't recognize this need before. Good thing I'm going to Costa Rica soon.

I need a monkey.

C.T.