Tales From a 44 Year Old Nothing

Oh, hi!

Don't take the title too seriously, it just came to me, sitting here in the kids' room (where years ago I read aloud Tales From a 4th Grade Nothing), waiting for the inspiration to come back and to sink in and stay awhile. A change of scenery oughtta do it! If anyone else sits at a computer for some or part of your job, you'll understand why sitting at a computer for a...hobby...or anything that's supposed to be..."relaxing"...well, the sitting at a computer part defeats the purpose.

Maybe I should get a typewriter. And invest in white out and then post screenshots hahahahahahaha.

I used to have my old Great Step Grandpa John's. I stored it under my bed. These days there's no room under my bed, cause it's directly on the floor. And I have no idea when or where-to that typewriter went. Probably got lost in one of the many moves of my 20s. And that's why at 44 I never ever want to move ever again. 

I just recently finished The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows. If you haven't read it, I highly recommend! It's a book of made up words (well, aren't all words made up?) for...I guess the obscure sorrows of human existence, heretofor unnamed! Reminds me of years ago when a then-friend gave me the word "bereft" for a way I was feeling. I felt so much better. This book describes feelings and thoughts I hadn't known were so common! Prior to reading it I thought maybe "it's just me". At first, reading it, I felt kind of...exposed. Kind of...like suddenly everything mysterious was just unwrapped, and I wasn't so special after all! But gradually, I found comfort in the content. I found comfort in realizing the (still) obscure sorrows I experience are more a universal part of being a human. And, as the author says, the new words for the obscurity are not to put them into harsh categories, as that is a drawback to naming things, but more to make us realize how connected we really are.

Anyway, the last few weeks, after finally buying this book that I'd been making myself remember about, I'd savour each word, several at a time, in that tiny little slice of "bedtime" in between the exhausting rush of the day and the near-death (I guess?) of sleep. That tiny little slice I long for all day, where I'm in the quiet of my room, door closed, sleeping little 2.5 year old next to me "leave(in) me 'lone!' (as he loves to say these days...) while I prop up my pillows just so, and read a few pages of something (in this case, the obscure sorrows) before my eyes get heavier and heavier and I nearly drop the book before turning the light off and conking out. That little slice is amazing.

I'd like to be there right now, as a matter of fact. But. Deadlines! It's almost the end of April and I have not written here yet!

How many things have I not done yet? How many other things? "Please don't remind me of my failures, I have not forgotten them..." only this one, this one I'm challenging myself to do. 

My own personal blog with family photos has gone by the wayside. Alas, I sort through photos and write lots of stuff for work. I simply cannot bring myself to do it in my spare time! Even for my own memory keeping! I have been experimenting with not caring so much, about things like that. What is life like without the pressure of documenting everything?! I do like my facebook memories, but I also like not putting more on there. Maybe my 10 years from now self will be mad at me for this choice, but my 44 year old self right now just. cannot. cannot.

There were a few amazing ideas I had for this post, often coming to me on my bike, when I'm the opposite of cannot. Song ideas, karaoke cravings, epiphanies of all kinds come to me on my bike. But then...I get to work / back home...plunked again into the full-on. I sometimes make notes to myself, to remember this or that, but so much is in the moment. When the moment's gone how do you get it back? I'm sure there's a word for that feeling in the obscure sorrows book. 

Everything I Ever Needed to Know I Learned From Soft Rock Pop Songs.                                                That was one blog title, whipped up from a journey through my liked songs. Stemming, too, from a moment at a solemn jiu jitsu ceremony recently, where all of the sudden in the bowing and changing over of belts and showing respect and being ever so quiet and serious, well, a karaoke party erupted in the next room of the building! All of the sudden all these people were singing Taylor Swift's Love Story! In the solemn room I could see audience members tapping their feet, mouthing the words, even slightly singing along--looking at one another...all kinds of people! It was like some cheesy commercial for something that's supposed to warm your heart while at the same time making you wish for a different life and whatever that product was. It was...amazing. Therese, who was there for the grading, said she had a really hard time not cracking up laughing as it was happening. 

Speaking of cracking up. And speaking of language and meanings, well, by cracking up here I mean the other kind of cracking up, the kind that's more tragic. Another blog post idea, inspired by the man I saw on the corner last weekend, up by the main street here. He was out with his guitar, but not playing it anymore. He was just ranting and raving in broad daylight, so very loud. Waving his hands in the air. A slight, middle aged guy with surprisingly white hair and a very unkept beard. People gave him space as they walked by. I think I did too, to be honest. Disturbed, all I could think was: this guy is someone's son, quite possibly this guy is someone's father, someone's (ex) lover / husband / partner, someone's friend. And here he is, unhinged for us all. Are we all just a few steps away from unhinged? 

Cause it's hard keeping it all together. Harder for some than for others, but hard nonetheless. That little slice of peace at the end of the day, or whenever, is so small. So tiny. So miniscule. The rest of life is so rushing, so trying, so exhausting, so full of things that can't be finished, so full of things of want (I want to read that book, I want to watch that movie, I want to spend time with that person, I want a larger slice of peace before bed, I want to be a good parent that spends time with their kids, I want to give my all at work but then still be able to give my all at home--oh gosh there's another post--I want to travel here eat that try that see them write that sing that...rest and look out the window at the beautiful green trees in the rain...and not be interrupted...but I don't want to be alone with no one to share the moment with...!

Tales From a 44 Year Old Nothing tonight are just snippets and fragments and scatters. I know I'm not alone, in much of this. And that's why I write it. It's messy. It's making connections--between what feels a wide field of beautiful wild flowers, blowing in the wind, sometimes touching and wrapping together and floating up in weightless wonder! Not like a single word in the dictionary, categorizing someting neatly into a little wrapper. Because this is all I have to offer, and yet I feel cleansed in the offering. 

Nothing Schmothing.

 

& to borrow from the end of The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows: ollyollyoxenfree!