Monday, July 25, 2005

Ashamed of Normality?

I'm not sure when it happened, but at one point everyone I knew began describing themselves as, "having no life." I believe this happened after they left undergrad, and while I can understand how life often takes a dramatic downshift when leaving college, since most of my peers did not persist in the nightly drunken karaoke and 16 player-games of Catchphrase at 2am. However, I'm not sure I understand why it is we insist upon this negative turn of phrase, although admittedly I use it quite frequently myself.

Facts are, I do have a life, it may not be the life I've always dreamed of, or highly glamorous and exciting city-gal a la Carrie Bradshaw, but it is satisfying and happy. This makes wonder, why we all seem to feel that our mediocrity is a sin, or even worse, makes us out to be "losers". It's only been a few years since American Beauty was being highly discussed in coffee shops everywhere, and yet people appear to have forgotten to seek out the beauty in the mundane. Perhaps I give humans too much credit, perhaps we forgot ten seconds after we walked out of the theatre into the sunshine.

Just a thought: sunsets happen every day, but are still thought of as stunning instead of mundane.

waking groggy, smiling
i notice his sleeping form, rolling over to check i'm awake.

padding softly across the floor,
a small blur of gray hurtles into the bathroom behind me
staring up at me with loyal mello-yello eyes.

humming, putzing, I make my morning
guzzling what little time is my own
before flying out the door, frazzled.

tripping across the pavement with a hint of strut,
hoping for a clear morning drive,
a perfect view of the skyline i know as home.

my work is not my own:
easy. repetitive. busy. busy.
s l o w.

internet friends greet my arrival
we suffer, laugh & vent as one
many faceted

numbers click and i'm off
climbing into the candy apple colored car
listing the things that might crop up,
the nervous hole in my abdomen created by this car,
distasteful to me.

letting myself in, they're there to greet me nonchalantly.
she rubs against my legs, chatting, as i drop food into her bowl.

we sit. talk. comfortable in our repetition. redundancy.


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