Monday, January 18, 2010

Dear god,

Please put more hours in the day.


Also, I'd like a hot fudge sundae. With peanuts.

Amen.

Tuesday, January 12, 2010

On Hatred

There's this woman I hate. And I don't hate many people, maybe three or four. But I hate her for maybe the best reason: because she's wrong and I'm right.

Sometimes I run at the track by my house. And she walk/runs there. She always uses the inside lane, no matter what speed she goes; she does not yield. Maybe that sucks a little when you're driving and the person won't get over, but when you're running there's extra effort involved going around and lost time, too. But more importantly it's common track etiquette to yield to faster runners. Also, it's posted by the gate.

Perhaps I over-reacted when she chose not to yield after I passed her for the 6th time. I thought she must not have read the sign. But no, she had read the sign and disagreed with the yielding. She would not move. Words were exchanged. And maybe a couple gestures.

I saw her there at my track in the dark last night and I began hating her again. I hated her real good for four laps. I thought about how I'd catch her and go around her again. I wondered about running with a blackjack in the future. I got real good and steamy, caught up to her, and it wasn't her at all. It was some other woman I didn't hate who was walk/running in the second lane, already yielding to me. And I was big disappointed.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

I hate commercials ...

And don't we all, really? I generally dislike t.v. and watch it intending to become completely numb. But some commercials make me cry, 'cause I'm a girl and stuff.

There's a commercial lately where people are reunioning in airport terminals. They hug and cry and do a lot of emoting. And I cry. Every dumb time. I miss my mom.

The last time I saw her was on a far-too-brief trip back to the cities. We met for an hour at Perkins. I could tell she was freaking out; she seemed hardly able to hold it together for all the emotions inside her: I love you, I miss you, I have so much to tell you, please don't leave again. But she smiled and asked me about Montana. Then we hugged good-bye, a desperate kind of hug. Like the hugs in the commercial.

I don't cry as much as I used to when I miss my mom. She's been gone nine years, and that's just what happens. But I cry every time I see this commercial, and every time I am completely unprepared for it.

It's not fair. Boys don't cry.