2 Legit 2 Quit

Today is a day off from work.

Things I did today (so far)

• Woke up around 8:30am
  
• Read 100 Bullets
  
• Ate some breakfast (Wegmans' Frosted Shredded Wheat)
  
• Went on the internet for a while
  
• Took a nap
  
• Read 100 Bullets some more
  
• Ate "lunch" (Triscuts and hummus)
  
• Made plans to make dinner with a friend
  
• Finished 100 Bullets, started A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
  
• Got on the internet again, to write this blog
  

That's all so far. No shower, haven't stepped outside, haven't even changed out of pajamas. A lazy day, a day that will dissappear in my memory. (Where did last Tuesday go? What did I even do that day?) But was it unproductive? I didn't advance my chances of getting in to grad school, nor my chances of getting a "real" job. But I have always said we are far more than our occupations. I submit that today was very worthwhile, and that everyone should have a day of lazy pampering to remind them why they work hard, or even leave the house, the rest of the days.

The best part is that if anyone asks me what I did today I can just say "I spent the day reading" and it sounds so worthwhile. Take that television, and I guess television-watchers too.

Nocturnal Omissions

There have been a few strange occurrences happening to me while I've been sleeping recently. (Don't worry, it's not what you're thinking of. That's not strange.) I've been waking up in the morning to find that my left shoulder-bicep area is really cold. Just that one spot. Even when I get in the shower and rub it with warm water, it still feels cold deep inside. Also, my hands have been falling asleep. But not asleep like the rest of me, asleep like that tingling uncomfortable feeling when a part of your body isn't getting enough blood. Usually I just shake my hand or flex my fingers, problem solved. But this morning it was so bad that I couldn't properly flex my fingers. I had to rub my hand and it hurt. Should I be worried? Perhaps some weird coincidence of my bed and sleeping position is conspiring to deny blood to parts of my arms? Or PERHAPS my hands and left shoulder are leading secret, double lives while the rest of me is unconscious? Tyler Durdhands? One that is dark and evil, and leaves me with a cold and painful feeling when my faculties are returned to me. I think I'd prefer the latter, because it would mean that this discomfort isn't my fault. Also, maybe I'd be involved in some giant fantasy adventure to defeat evil? The evil of my own hands?!!?!

What I'm trying to say is that I'd rather my hands were evil than have to re-learn how to sleep.

Epic tales of everyday life

I just finished (and loved) this:

You're A Prayer for Owen Meany!
by John Irving

Despite humble and perhaps literally small beginnings, you inspire faith in almost everyone you know. You are an agent of higher powers, and you manifest this fact in mysterious and loud ways. A sense of destiny pervades your every waking moment, and you prepare with great detail for destiny fulfilled. When you speak, IT SOUNDS LIKE THIS!
Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.

I could call it APFOM, if I liked awkward acronyms. And I do, so that's settled. APFOM was excellent. It's 600 pages long, but it reads like it's 200. It's a fictional memoir, told in the style of a series of stories after dinner. It bounces around a little, tells interesting background stories about all the characters and gently packs in an incredibly thick continuity. It's hilarious, touching, tragic, and ordinary. In short, it's the story of a life.

I've started to think about the books I like, the stories I like. I've realized a theme in stories like APFOM, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay and Skinny Legs and All. I called them "epic adventures of everyday life." I like the idea that every life is as beautiful and worthwhile as those of the much lauded "heroes" that we love to dote on. Even Siddhartha, which is certainly a story of an extraordinary man (the man who would become known as The Buddha), centers on the revalations gained from an uncommon perspective on a fairly common life. As much as I love The Lord of the Rings or Watchmen (and I do), saving the world is pretty obviously important and interesting. It's fun to get swept up in these stories, to daydream about saving the world and having monuments named after you. But it has always left me feeling very ordinary. What would my story be, without an evil ring to unmake or even an arch nemesis to battle! Call me Dude of the Woeful Countenance. But stories like A Prayer for Owen Meany give me comfort. I cried when my grandfather died, and later when my grandmother died, and they never saved the world... at least, not obviously. But if APFOM has told me anything, it confirmed the feeling I've always felt that if you live a good life then you really are saving the world. Loving life is as miraculous as anything the "great stories" have to offer.

I submit my life to you, the ages, for consideration. Today I got up, read a silly pulp comic book, read a blog my friend published, ate some cereal, text messaged a friend, and wrote a blog entry for myself. It's been beautiful so far, don't you see? And it's still the morning!

Life is a mess, and I love it.

When arrows don't penetrate, cupid grabs a pistol!

Originally written, in a shorter and more personal form, as an email to my sister and her husband

Happy Valentine's Day dudes and dudettes! I hope you all have a nice day of romance. I have no romance going on, but I do look the part. I am wearing a nice red sweater that a wonderful girl got for me as a birthday present several years ago. As I am single, and decidedly not upset about it, I am celebrating the day with a nice dinner with a few friends. I've spent the day reading, and I'm going to finish "A Prayer for Owen Meany." I may buy Sarah Silverman's "Jesus is Magic" as a gift for myself. Straight up, this year I am my OWN valentine and let me tell you I am a sweetheart!

And now a Valentine's Day story:

---

A few days ago a regular customer at Starbucks asked my friend Brendon and me what we thought of Valentine's Day. She's the type of girl who's good looking and sort of insecure about it. We're all pretty sure she has a crush on every man she meets. Anyway, so she asked about Valentine's Day. She said something awkwardly provocative like "You guys must have girlfriends to enjoy it with, right?" When we said we didn't she quickly followed with, "But when you have had girlfriends, did you like it?" She was clearly looking for some reassurance, but we weren't sure in which direction she was leaning. We're not trying to offend, of course.

Brendon said something diplomatic by saying it's nice but not a huge deal, but she was really digging for an opinion. I had actually been thinking about it recently for other reasons. I decided to try my philosophy on a real live Female and see what happened.

"The way I see it," I began, "people get too worked up about the wrong thing. Romantic love is wonderful, and certainly deserves celebration, but what's so special about February 14th? If I take my girlfriend out to a nice dinner a week before, or a week after, or on the day, what's the difference? I say, if you want to do something romantic, do it. Don't wait for some 'special' day, make today special. If you take the position that romance is worth celebrating every day, Valentine"s Day is a great excuse to have fun and there's really no pressure. And if I don't have a girlfriend, no big deal, I'll celebrate when I get one."

That'’s seriously what I said, pretty much verbatim. It just popped out as if I'd been rehearsing it (which I hadn'’t, though I'’d been thinking about it). She was pretty surprised to get a treatise like that, so she just kind of vaguely agreed and looked like she was thinking about it. We chatted about Starbucks'’ new cupcakes that are supposed to be a Valentine'’s treat, despite having no clear connection to the day. Apparently when she encountered another coworker on her way out she announced simply: "Valentine's Day."” When he looked for some sort of follow-up she said in a similar declarative manner, "Cupcakes," and walked off.

The end.

Heart-with-an-arrow-through-it,
Jack