Esplain It To Me
2004-09-06, 3:09pm

Is it safe? Vreeeeeeeeee. *digging molars* Is it safe? Yeah, well, I'm thinking that it is. But maybe not. Either way, though, I get tired of pretending to be someone else for other people. Brave talk, seeing as I still am not in any hurry, after 10 some years, to let my Pop know that I smoke cigarettes. I'm 34, fer crissake, and yet I still hide my smokes from my father as if I'm sneaking puffs in between 5th and 6th period. It's pathetic. Ah well. I'm unlocked now and we'll call that progress.

So, as evidenced from my last entry lo these many weeks ago, I had intended for there to be pages and pages of Olympic talk, but clearly, I lost interest. I blame it on the Track and Field athletes, really. You know how when someone is all in-your-face "I'm the Shiznit! I'm the greatest of all-time! I'm King of the World!", that you can't help but pray to a mean and righteous god, promising all sorts of personal reformations, if only this Higher Power would conspire to have this braggadociotti trip and skid three feet on his upper lip? So it was with week 2 of the Olympics. And thus, chapter closed on that.

But I also watched Kill Bill 2 last week and I've decided I feel the same way about Quentin Tarintino. Don't get me wrong--I loved Pulp Fiction as much as the next guy and Reservior Dogs and Kill Bill were sufficiently brutal and entertaining for me. But I sure wish Tarintino would stop telling me over and over again how fantastic these movies are--and more so, how genius and original and brilliant he is. Only makes me wish misfortune on you, old sport, and lack of excitement at your successes. Maybe I shouldn't single out Q.T. I mean, it's everywhere. Seems the norm these days is to toot your own horn--and a symphony accompanies you. Whatever happened to humility? No, really. Do we all hate ourselves so much that we think we can convince ourselves of our own self-worth by convincing others? Or are these braggerts and boasters truly filled with an unconditional self-love that can't be helped from brimming over? I don't get it.

But lately, there's so much I don't understand. Like all those kids in Russia? Maybe I've never felt so heartly wronged or misunderstood--or been that much of an underdog or minority--to comprehend making a decision of such desperation and such disregard for human life, but how? How could one think that by killing children or bombing buildings or torturing strangers you can make other sympathetic to your cause? I dunno. The only guess I could hazard comes from yet another movie we watched this past week, Death in Gaza, which documents the mind-set of Palestinians along the Gaza Strip. The chick narrating the documentary says at one point, "They are so out-manned and out-gunned that they must turn each death of their own into a victory." But how can it have really come to this?

Hooooboy. I'm so sorry I became Captain Bad-Time for a second there. Not my intention. See what happens when I do nothing but sit on my ass for 21 days and "think"? *shifting gears* Other things I don't understand: how come a nautical mile is different from a regular mile? Isn't it the same distance, but one is over land and one is at sea? Riddle me that, will ya.

And another thing: how can I lube up my feet with every moisturizing agent known to mankind and yet my feet remain deformedly dry and chapped? After watching untold hours of TV and movies over these last three weeks that Matt has been home, we've run out of things to entertain ourselves. I attempted to put on music and jitterbug around to amuse Matt, but then I was all Dances with Hooves, as my bare feet clippitty-clopped on the hard-wood floors, drowning out the songs themselves, and I was forced to retire. Somebody help me help myself. Dermatologist to the living room, Stat!

We've played countless games and read all the books and magazines in the joint. Which brings me back to the number 5. How can the word AKIMBO only be worth 12 points in Scrabble? Doesn't it seem like it deserves so much more? I mean, even WAR got more points. Clearly, there is no rhyme or reason left in this world. But that is neither here nor there, but then again, neither is this sentence. Nor this post.

*akimbo*

What are you looking at? Ah, nevermind.