I cannot believe I am still having this same conversation about Christmas, even though it's July. Here's the conversation as I remember it.
Bob: Are you doing any theater or anything?
Megan: No. I wanted to do Hamletmachine with Tom and Lisa McElroy, but I think Tom doesn't want to work with me anymore.
Bob: You mean after the Christmas fiasco?
Megan: Well, yes. But that wasn't really my fault.
Bob: I still can't believe you didn't write some sort of Anti-Christmas show....
Megan: Well - I would have liked that. I thought it was going to be some sort of spoof on Christmas. But Tom and Lisa really like Christmas. Which surprised me. I thought people who didn't really like much of anything about American culture certainly wouldn't like the whole Christmas thing.
Bob: No, Christmas is wonderful. A magical elf, coming to bring you things.... It's so much fun! You're missing out!
Megan: But, Bob, it's a Christian holiday. I'm not Christian.
Bob: You're missing the point. We don't celebrate it as a Christmas holiday. We're not Christians. In fact, none of the people I know who celebrate Christmas are Christians!
Megan: Well, they're not Muslims. Or Jews.
Bob: What?
Megan: Well, you don't see a bunch of Muslims celebrating Christmas, or Jews, if they're actually members of those religions. It's an exclusively Christian holiday. It's about Christ. Christ's name is even in the "title".
Bob: Well they're not Christians either. I don't think I even know anyone Christian.
Megan: I'm sure you do.
Bob: I can't imagine who, really.
Megan: All of the people I know who celebrate Christmas at least grew up in a Christian oriented household. It's a Christian-based holiday.
Bob: But you're missing the point. You're not listening. No one celebrates Christmas as a religious holiday...
Megan: What's the nativity scene about...?
Bob: You're not hearing what I'm saying...
Megan: No, you're not hearing what I'm saying. I'm telling you that only people who did NOT grow up in other religions like Judaism or Buddhism, or Hinduism, celebrate Christmas. In other words, Christians.
Bob: But it's not religious... You're projecting this because you've never felt the magic of...
Megan: Bob, I have to go. Honestly, my break is over. I just called to give you shit about the $100 piano.
Bob: Really, I'm not religious, my mother was Jewish.
Megan: Did she practice Judaism?
Bob: No
Megan: Did she celebrate Christmas?
Bob: Yes, of course...
Megan: Well, that's my point. If she'd practiced Judaism and not given in to Christian traditions you probably wouldn't have celebrated Christmas.
Bob: You're not listening to what I'm really saying. Anyone can celebrate Christmas.
Megan: Right, anyone who is Christian, atheist or agnostic. Anyone who identifies with another actual religion won't celebrate Christmas, usually.
Bob: You just don't understand - it's not about Christ - it's about the magical elf in Moore's poem.
Megan: What "Moore" are you referring to? Thomas?
Bob: What? I don't know his first name. The guy who wrote, "Night before Christmas". The magical elf, and sugarplums and presents. That's what modern day Christmas is all about.
Megan: It's still a Christian holiday, Bob. It's based on Christian ideals, including the baby Jesus thing, and other religions don't celebrate it. I really have to go back to work. I'm done. I can't believe we're talking about this again.
Bob: Ok, bye. (hangs up).
Megan: Bye.
It's a Christian holiday. It's called CHRISTmas for Jesus' sake, literally.
02 July 2007
30 June 2007
Things I hate
My friend Eddie Lopez used to tell me, in his slightly Texan accent, "Megan, you hate everything!" He was cute. Probably still is. Haven't seen him in years, but we chat online occasionally. He was just trying to make me see how negative I am. Was. Still am. Probably he wasn't trying to do anything but got sick of me telling him how much I hated this or that....
My ex-boyfriend hated a lot of things:
Tight shirt collars - bothered his neck.
Scratchy fabric - bothered his body.
Crayon wrappers - the paper around each crayon - he had to remove that before using the crayons.
Coral Reefs. There we were, sitting with other friends at a coffee shop and this peripheral acquaintance of one friend came over to tell us about his deep sea diving photography. He metioned various ocean creatures and fish, and coral reefs. He left. My ex said, with a shiver, "oooargh!!! Achchch! I hate coral reefs!" We all stared at him for a moment because he looked like he had bugs all over him or was going to vomit, and then we all laughed.
I asked, "How could you hate coral reefs? You've never been diving. Plus, how can you hate something like coral reefs?"
"They're just so scratchy!" he exclaimed, looking disgusted again.
There's no response for this. There's no convincing him to like coral reefs, or to want to touch an actual coral reef. I think he's responding to the scratchiness of those little dead pieces of coral that come with the touristy shell collections you can buy at beachside bodegas. Yes, those are scratchy.
My ex is a lot like Monk, the OCD detective on television. I hope he's gotten some help for this, because he was constantly tortured by his tics and dislikes and anxieties when we were together. Perhaps it was in response to me. How egocentric, Megan.
Things I hate....
Pretty, thin women who use their looks to get ahead
The men and others who fall for the shit of pretty, thin women
Cultural pressure to be a pretty, thin woman
Liver
Scratchy hotel sheets
Polyester hotel bedspreads
Hot, sunny, summer days
Not being a bazillionaire
My own laziness and lack of motivation
My OCD tendencies, which I'm not willing to explain here.
The dog poop in my backyard
The fact that dogs poop
The fact that I have to clean up after them
I dunno - there's more. I say that I 'hate' things, but I probably need to find a better word. Things make me feel stuff.
That's deep.
I hate not being closer to perfect.
I hate being hot (I'm referring to temperature). It's Summer. It's hot. I have yardwork to do. It's stinky and poopy in my backyard and I now have to get up and brave the sun and heat (with a lot of sunscreen) and start cleaning.
Woo hoo
I hate not having one of those mini bulldozer things to use to clean the yard.
Whatever, Megan. You hate everything!
Love ya, Eddie.
My ex-boyfriend hated a lot of things:
Tight shirt collars - bothered his neck.
Scratchy fabric - bothered his body.
Crayon wrappers - the paper around each crayon - he had to remove that before using the crayons.
Coral Reefs. There we were, sitting with other friends at a coffee shop and this peripheral acquaintance of one friend came over to tell us about his deep sea diving photography. He metioned various ocean creatures and fish, and coral reefs. He left. My ex said, with a shiver, "oooargh!!! Achchch! I hate coral reefs!" We all stared at him for a moment because he looked like he had bugs all over him or was going to vomit, and then we all laughed.
I asked, "How could you hate coral reefs? You've never been diving. Plus, how can you hate something like coral reefs?"
"They're just so scratchy!" he exclaimed, looking disgusted again.
There's no response for this. There's no convincing him to like coral reefs, or to want to touch an actual coral reef. I think he's responding to the scratchiness of those little dead pieces of coral that come with the touristy shell collections you can buy at beachside bodegas. Yes, those are scratchy.
My ex is a lot like Monk, the OCD detective on television. I hope he's gotten some help for this, because he was constantly tortured by his tics and dislikes and anxieties when we were together. Perhaps it was in response to me. How egocentric, Megan.
Things I hate....
Pretty, thin women who use their looks to get ahead
The men and others who fall for the shit of pretty, thin women
Cultural pressure to be a pretty, thin woman
Liver
Scratchy hotel sheets
Polyester hotel bedspreads
Hot, sunny, summer days
Not being a bazillionaire
My own laziness and lack of motivation
My OCD tendencies, which I'm not willing to explain here.
The dog poop in my backyard
The fact that dogs poop
The fact that I have to clean up after them
I dunno - there's more. I say that I 'hate' things, but I probably need to find a better word. Things make me feel stuff.
That's deep.
I hate not being closer to perfect.
I hate being hot (I'm referring to temperature). It's Summer. It's hot. I have yardwork to do. It's stinky and poopy in my backyard and I now have to get up and brave the sun and heat (with a lot of sunscreen) and start cleaning.
Woo hoo
I hate not having one of those mini bulldozer things to use to clean the yard.
Whatever, Megan. You hate everything!
Love ya, Eddie.
03 January 2007
Little Megan Big World
The Roloff family are the stars of Little People Big World on TLC. Mom, Dad and one of the children are little people, and the other three children are average sized. They're always having to adjust to the average world in ways that I understand, though at 4'11'' I am not technically considered a dwarf.
I had to have an ergonomic evaluation because my chair wasn't high enough or my desk wasn't low enough, and this cheap-ass plastic footstool sucks. I'm never comfortable at work. I'm either sitting with one leg up on the chair, or both feet on the computer console, ankles crossed. Half of my butt falls asleep, or my bent knee begins to hurt. When I stand up from the chair I stagger like an arthritic, elderly person, which totally foils my effort to be a young and hip member of my tech-team.
I finally asked for a different chair or a different footstool or both. Though I'd prefer a soft, velvety, wingback chair and an ottoman, I'm sure that setup would promote napping more than efficiency.
The chair I have been using is made of a grey-black, scratchy fabric, with tech-looking design details on the plastic back. The back doesn't move at all, because the tension is so high, my weight doesn't budge it. So I constantly feel pushed forward, out of the seat. I can adjust the height to make it more comfortable with the stationary desk area, but only days later the seat has mysteriously sunk back down to its lowest height. Though I worry about my weight, I'm fairly sure that's not the cause of the sinking seat.
Anyway - these two HR Ladies came down to my windowless basement cube to look at my footrest and told me that was the only type we have here. I had it backwards, though, which they say may have been why it doesn't seem comfortable. As for the chair, most of the chairs here are broken, stained, bent or otherwise ruined, and the company does not deem this an important expense. None of the chairs in this area would work, so the HR ladies brought me a chair from somewhere else in the building - the secret stockpile of working chairs.
Exchanging my bad chair for the good chair was not so simple. The good chair had bad, wobbly armrests attached to it that would not adjust up or down. The HR ladies struggled to unbolt the armrests with wrenches, delicately attempting to avoid breaking a painted nail. The bolts required a different wrench, which Rodney, an average-Samoan-sized colleague retrieved from his truck. He was able to help them disconnect the armrests so that I could sit in my ergonomically adjustable chair and work.
These people were in my cube for about 20 minutes, but it seemed like an hour. This is not the type of attention I want. One of the HR Ladies seemed quite pleasant in that HR way. She's clearly nice to everyone, at least to their face. The other one barely looked at me, and I began to suspect she resented me for making her crawl around on the floor with a tool. The nice HR Lady just smiled passively and mumbled something about this being "the law" when I thanked her profusely for the great effort they were making to help me. That did not convince me of her innate pleasantness, and in fact made her smile seem more false.
I've never been self-conscious about my height - my stature. Weight - yes. Height - no. Today I'm feeling like an ugly, older dwarf who's just now realized I'm different and small. Really - I never think of myself as short, unless I'm looking at someone who's my height. Then, when I realize I'm as short as that person, I see myself as small.
The chair issue makes me feel small, and not in an interesting or attractive or cute way. Just small.
I had to have an ergonomic evaluation because my chair wasn't high enough or my desk wasn't low enough, and this cheap-ass plastic footstool sucks. I'm never comfortable at work. I'm either sitting with one leg up on the chair, or both feet on the computer console, ankles crossed. Half of my butt falls asleep, or my bent knee begins to hurt. When I stand up from the chair I stagger like an arthritic, elderly person, which totally foils my effort to be a young and hip member of my tech-team.
I finally asked for a different chair or a different footstool or both. Though I'd prefer a soft, velvety, wingback chair and an ottoman, I'm sure that setup would promote napping more than efficiency.
The chair I have been using is made of a grey-black, scratchy fabric, with tech-looking design details on the plastic back. The back doesn't move at all, because the tension is so high, my weight doesn't budge it. So I constantly feel pushed forward, out of the seat. I can adjust the height to make it more comfortable with the stationary desk area, but only days later the seat has mysteriously sunk back down to its lowest height. Though I worry about my weight, I'm fairly sure that's not the cause of the sinking seat.
Anyway - these two HR Ladies came down to my windowless basement cube to look at my footrest and told me that was the only type we have here. I had it backwards, though, which they say may have been why it doesn't seem comfortable. As for the chair, most of the chairs here are broken, stained, bent or otherwise ruined, and the company does not deem this an important expense. None of the chairs in this area would work, so the HR ladies brought me a chair from somewhere else in the building - the secret stockpile of working chairs.
Exchanging my bad chair for the good chair was not so simple. The good chair had bad, wobbly armrests attached to it that would not adjust up or down. The HR ladies struggled to unbolt the armrests with wrenches, delicately attempting to avoid breaking a painted nail. The bolts required a different wrench, which Rodney, an average-Samoan-sized colleague retrieved from his truck. He was able to help them disconnect the armrests so that I could sit in my ergonomically adjustable chair and work.
These people were in my cube for about 20 minutes, but it seemed like an hour. This is not the type of attention I want. One of the HR Ladies seemed quite pleasant in that HR way. She's clearly nice to everyone, at least to their face. The other one barely looked at me, and I began to suspect she resented me for making her crawl around on the floor with a tool. The nice HR Lady just smiled passively and mumbled something about this being "the law" when I thanked her profusely for the great effort they were making to help me. That did not convince me of her innate pleasantness, and in fact made her smile seem more false.
I've never been self-conscious about my height - my stature. Weight - yes. Height - no. Today I'm feeling like an ugly, older dwarf who's just now realized I'm different and small. Really - I never think of myself as short, unless I'm looking at someone who's my height. Then, when I realize I'm as short as that person, I see myself as small.
The chair issue makes me feel small, and not in an interesting or attractive or cute way. Just small.
Day 3
On the third day of the new year my new love gave to me...
AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!! I've been brainwashed!
After months of listening to holiday muzak I can't get it out of my head. Yesterday - chestnuts, today - partridges. I'm so glad the holidaze are over. I feel like I'm still recovering from too many gatherings and too much group activity.
And after all that I'm STILL not convinced to convert to Christianity. Hmmm.
ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
Enough about religion.
It's the new year. I need a new attitude, a new outlook, a renewed level of energy with which to pursue life.
Can I buy that on Ebay?
None of the really really important stuff is available on Ebay.
Sure, I can get diet pills, diamond rings, Beanie Babies, Doc Martens and even a time-share.
Spiritual fulfillment
Physical wellness
Motivation for excellence
Creative exuberance
None of this is available for purchase on the site that has IT all.
There should be a kit available for each of these things.
I suppose a church membership, a Bowflex, a life-coach and knitting needles might work for some people.
I think I must mine my own resources for contentment, joy, serenity, productivity, fulfillment, etc.
Today my tank is running low, which gives me that repeated inner mantra of "I WANT, I WANT, I WANT..." in an effort to fill up on something that will soothe.
Perhaps I just need more sleep.
OR A SHOPPING EXCURSION!
(No!)
Or some quiet time after all of the holiday chaos.
That could be IT. Yet another thing unavailable on Ebay.
AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!! I've been brainwashed!
After months of listening to holiday muzak I can't get it out of my head. Yesterday - chestnuts, today - partridges. I'm so glad the holidaze are over. I feel like I'm still recovering from too many gatherings and too much group activity.
And after all that I'm STILL not convinced to convert to Christianity. Hmmm.
ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd
Enough about religion.
It's the new year. I need a new attitude, a new outlook, a renewed level of energy with which to pursue life.
Can I buy that on Ebay?
None of the really really important stuff is available on Ebay.
Sure, I can get diet pills, diamond rings, Beanie Babies, Doc Martens and even a time-share.
Spiritual fulfillment
Physical wellness
Motivation for excellence
Creative exuberance
None of this is available for purchase on the site that has IT all.
There should be a kit available for each of these things.
I suppose a church membership, a Bowflex, a life-coach and knitting needles might work for some people.
I think I must mine my own resources for contentment, joy, serenity, productivity, fulfillment, etc.
Today my tank is running low, which gives me that repeated inner mantra of "I WANT, I WANT, I WANT..." in an effort to fill up on something that will soothe.
Perhaps I just need more sleep.
OR A SHOPPING EXCURSION!
(No!)
Or some quiet time after all of the holiday chaos.
That could be IT. Yet another thing unavailable on Ebay.
02 January 2007
Another New Year
New Year
New possibilities?
I dunno. Is there really any more possibility today than there was a couple of days ago? I'd like to believe that each moment is truly new and separate from the many previous moments of my life, and that any influence they may have is imaginary. I'd like to believe that in this new moment, which is separate from the last one, I can generate some new existence which may be more acceptable and enjoyable than many of my accumulated past moments were.
I think the past moments somehow form threads that singly have little strength, but become unbreakable when wound around me over and over again. Tiny filaments twist and tangle, crocheted into nets. These knotted webs entrap, sometimes strengthening as one struggles to break free.
The entrapment is imaginary, as are the long ago moments. There is no substance to these ties, no collectible evidence. Why then can I not escape the past completely and move beyond the limitations I continue to construct? All life is a trap ending in death. What you do before leaving behind this Earth depends on the weight of the imaginary webs in one's life, perhaps.
Of what are these filaments made?
Memories
Regrets
Wishes
Drowned dreams
Unrequited love
Failings
Lackings
Inadequacies
Perception
Self-esteem
Self-loathing
Unanswered questions
Unsolved mysteries
Introspection
all this and more.
Tune in next time when we explore the pointlessness of philosophical psycho-rambling - next episode: The ROI of Taking Action.
New possibilities?
I dunno. Is there really any more possibility today than there was a couple of days ago? I'd like to believe that each moment is truly new and separate from the many previous moments of my life, and that any influence they may have is imaginary. I'd like to believe that in this new moment, which is separate from the last one, I can generate some new existence which may be more acceptable and enjoyable than many of my accumulated past moments were.
I think the past moments somehow form threads that singly have little strength, but become unbreakable when wound around me over and over again. Tiny filaments twist and tangle, crocheted into nets. These knotted webs entrap, sometimes strengthening as one struggles to break free.
The entrapment is imaginary, as are the long ago moments. There is no substance to these ties, no collectible evidence. Why then can I not escape the past completely and move beyond the limitations I continue to construct? All life is a trap ending in death. What you do before leaving behind this Earth depends on the weight of the imaginary webs in one's life, perhaps.
Of what are these filaments made?
Memories
Regrets
Wishes
Drowned dreams
Unrequited love
Failings
Lackings
Inadequacies
Perception
Self-esteem
Self-loathing
Unanswered questions
Unsolved mysteries
Introspection
all this and more.
Tune in next time when we explore the pointlessness of philosophical psycho-rambling - next episode: The ROI of Taking Action.
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