Purposeless Collage

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[Save yourself from wasting five precious minutes of your life on the intervening words and jump to the Wednesday Quiz.]

Do you know how some days you find yourself with three and a half hours to kill, and no desire whatsoever to work? You sit there and say to yourself, "I have no idea how I'm going to bill today, except to note that someone's going to take it in the shorts."

I have never had a day like that. Just to go on the record for any SM workers out there.

Are you giddy with anticipation to play bridge tonight? K~ and I are going to see that film that will most likely be terrible. You should learn how to play bridge. You really, really should.

Bridge is the most fun the 7 months out of 8. Then comes the time when you're the host, and you have to clean house, find subs (tridents, mostly), hide dirty dishes, bring out food, get ridiculed for your lack of coffee-making skills, and wonder how hot old people really like the house to be (inferno). It's a life of concern and drudgery, and the three brief hours of heavenly bridge don't hardly make up for it. Unless you're ready to learn, in which case let me assure you that those three hours of heavenly bridge bliss make your entire life seem worthwhile.

If you had read or had a copy of 100 Years of Solitude, I'd ask you if you have ever had sex that matches the soaring description it is given in the text. But you don't, so I can't, and you and my copy of the book never seem to be in the same place at the same time.

I wonder why that is.

I've never really thought about it in quite this light before (overcast, raining, ate exactly one hamburger and one-third-cup of a Frosty too much), but I can't help but wonder if 100 Years of Solitude's secret identity is YOU!

As I think further, I can't remember even seeing the book at any time that I was talking to you on the telephone or in person. Perhaps, just perhaps, the book your secret identity? When the stresses of being the best employee, darlingest socialite in the room, beloved by all, hated by none, life one rollercoaster ride after another, do you take refuge in your secret identity and hang out on my bookshelves for a while?

Not me speaking: I'm feeling a high level of dissatisfaction with life. Isn't my medication suppose to suppress those feelings? I'm bored at work. I found out that the project I'm working on is another quickie, not a monster baby as I had anticipated. I'm smitten with an emotionally unavailable man 2,000 miles away. It's like everything is off a notch.

Now I'm back: No, I don't think so. The best drugs ever did for me was to let me go, "hey, look at that unfulfilling life! Ah well, who cares?" instead of having to grasp something tightly to not go downstairs and gas myself.

Then I got a new job which allowed me to bury myself so completely that much the same effect was achieved, without the side effects of constricted breathing and dry mouth, and with the side effect of paying off my Visa bill.

New jobs for all. New jobs for no one. New jobs for some people, miniature American flags for all!

But enough about me under the guise of talking about you, let's talk about me for a second. I can't shut up about this. I'm just so happy to be having this weird feeling for the last x months that I'm coming into my own, that I'm ready to drive my own life again. I am choosing my own events, not run over by my job, through with troublesome relationships, and through with noting with happy surprise that I'm through. I feel like how I imagine the top must feel when it finally rocks to a rest after wobbling and spinning all over the table. "What a crazy little path I've made back there."

Nothing you'd call inner peace. But a certain freedom has been obtained, and I'm feeling like I have a treasure that I ought to be careful where I choose to spend it. This is so not a new thought. I just love saying it. Treasure! Treasure! Argh! Shiver me timbers, matey! Treasure!

That was a lot of chatter about nothing! Signifying sound and fury! What the lamest movie you have ever seen? And have you seen eXistenZ and Lost in Space? That was not the Wednesday quiz. This is:

The Wednesday Quiz

As promised, it's another Monster quiz! You can't always be a saint. Well, okay, yes, YOU can, but I think we both agree that -they- can't. And, as discussed, being the good guy is rarely all it's cracked up to be in real life.

So, if you could be any monster you wanted to, and see your way clear to falling back to Level 1, what monster would you be? You can be a movie monster, a TV monster, a monster of ancient mythology (if you go for Cyclops, remember, the secret is to check the bellies!), or anything.

Are you a Dracula? Are you a Frankenstein? Frankenstein's tough. I don't really want to be made up of other people. But Dracula, that's not so bad. You get to transform, the ladies love you, and you get to sleep all day long.

Godzilla's got some appeal. You're huge, you crunch buildings and people underfoot. Flames fly from your mouth when you want them to. That's pretty sweet. My only problem with Godzilla is that I don't like the feeling of living stuff crunching under my feet. Whenever I go to the beach and there are barnacles or whatever all over the rocks, it always creeps me out. Maybe Mothra. Then I could fly and crush without having to walk over it all.

If you could ditch the mamby-pampy Dr. Jeckle, it would be pretty rockin' to be Mr. Hyde. Live your life totally out of your id. You'd be inventing a level zero morality.

Anyway, I don't want to prejudice your thoughts. You are welcome to be any monster you want to be. I'll quiz the kids and adults this afternoon and let you know.

So, if you could be any monster you wanted to be, what monster would you be?

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