Unknown-a-phobia

How many people ever get past that? I was thinking on this the other day and came to realize that schedules, career plans, calendaring meetings all set you into a mundane pattern of living. Oh, I don't think routine is necessarily e-vil or any such thing. I just think that every once in a while one should do something new, if not somewhat intimidating or "scary." We get so comfortable and honestly even in our comfort is still seems that things don't go according to plan. So why is it bad to have a little randomness. I think that the random experiences we have are often the ones we talk about and relive for years.
Here's an example: Ray and I ran out of gas on a road trip between Haines and Anchorage. we were seven miles from Tok. We walked into town just as my old boss was driving down to the river to get water for his dogs. My old boss drives from Whitter back to Washington every winter with his family and his sled dogs. We ended up eating breakfast with them. My boss drove us back to the car and we went on our way. Honestly it wasn't that inconvenient and it sure is a funny ironic (yes Adam, ironic) story.
Random musings but an interesting thought...is it worse to plan everything in life or to loosely plan life so that when you're driving along and the bumps hit you can still kind of enjoy them as you bang your head on the ceiling?

An Updated Faerytale

Once upon a time, I wandered about aimlessly into a vast thicket of rancid diapers, green and orange snot infested clothing, and silly nonsensical insanity. Random screaming could be heard from time to time. I wandered on and on and on. At times the yelling got louder and at times it stopped all together. I came to a clearing every few hundred yards or so and in the clearings I found wonderful majestic meadows. In the meadows there was sunshine and laughter and the calm sanity one expects. But alas I continually found myself again entering the wood of chaos! One might wonder why. This I also began to wonder, but I found that I could not seem to control my journey. I could only control how I dealt with the chaos that surrounded me. At some points I found that I simply dealt with it in a rational way and at other points I was carried away into insensitive inane posturing! In fact at times it was hard to see even my own elbow skin. But alas I knew that somewhere in betwixt all this chaos of the "mine, mine, mine" and the "da da da" that I would eventually stumble upon my happily ever after. THE END

When Is Flatulence too Much?

My son, Tiernen, has now reached the precarious fence post of tyke-hood where one must begin to learn the functions of their body. At this point his most developed and beloved hobby is eating, this being the case it only follows that his other past time must be the manufacturing of 'meadow muffins.' These said 'muffins' require much effort. The compilation of gases which accompany the accumulation of the 'meadow muffins' are astronomically unfathomable to him and cause him great discomfort. Generally, he is a very happy lil' guy, but once he starts to 'break wind' his face quickly changes color, his eyebrows furrow in consternation, and he lets out a barbaric yawp like none other! This, to him, is not a simple laughing matter it takes complete concentration! When one considers this in the context of our societal norms, one must ask if this habitual "tadoo" over flatulence, is breaking the societal rules, which surround flatulence. Upon closer examination one finds that the old adage "there is a time and a place for everything" is perhaps, in this case, correct. Society strangely seems to accept the flatulence of the young as something cute. When a baby tightens up for the push we adults applaud their effort. This is somewhat strange considering that in a few years time we will begin a new campaign. This new campaign will be one of silencing the flatulation. This would seem to many to be a somewhat oxymoronical parenting practice. However one must ask one's self if perhaps this is one of those customs which is a custom just for the sake of time. By this I mean that maybe this silent flatulant habit is a practice which is still continued today merely because it was started so long ago that now it is a tradition. How many more mannerisms have been smothered like the manufacturing of meadow muffins?
However, most people would find it perplexing to be interrupted whilst they are talking. In this same way it is somewhat irksome to have your personal space befouled by another. It is on this premise that I base my main point, why should one care if a noise is made? Were the noise to be squelched the stench would still permeate the environment. And so I must ask, does it truly matter if one is silent or not when they are manufacturing meadow muffins?

Life's A Garden, Dig It!

Upon ponderization of this phrase I realized that through the ages many a man has coined some phrase which is for them, motivational. When one looks forward at the paths they may choose to travel one must have some sort of guide, a North Star. In the journey of life we often choose something which we believe defines us. We feel inspired to by the words of another or perhaps by some personal adage. Were we to each share these messages in our interactions with one another we may not be so wary of one another. As it is, we oft times turn aside when we chance to meet a stranger in the road. We turn our gaze elsewhere and keep on trudging, lost in the toils of our own day. Yet some of our greatest and most beloved tales are of the motivating individual you reaches out to others and inspires them. Dead Poets Society, Gandhi, Martin Luther King Jr., Jesus Christ, and Robin Hood just to name a few. There have also been those in our history who have misused this amazing gift, such a Adolph Hitler and other such genocide driven leaders in Africa. What I wonder is how are these men able to harness this gift and what makes them different from you or I? We do we not live up to the potential which exists within each of us? We do we seem to lose our motivation right at the pinnacle of achievement? Or why do we use that drive to get us the fleeting treasure? We seem to be accepting mediocrity in our own lives while vicariously trying to live the lives of others. Why is it that we cannot seem to achieve those dreams which mean so much? Are we afraid of the work which paves the path to the achievement of the dream? Or is it just that we are so unsure that we hesitate to take the step until the moment is gone? Are we to become another 'has-been' dreamer who looks back and tells the tales of all that might have been? Gandhi could have lived his life quietly. What made him into a motivational and peace-seeking man? What made it possible for Hitler to achieve his dasterdly deeds?
Fear? Perhaps we are ruled by the very thing which we abhor. We are afraid that perhaps one day we may actually not achieve that goal. So we sit by and imagine to ourselves all the things which could go wrong. Or maybe we just continue to plan our great achievement and never actually act upon it. The very scheme which could allow us to live our lives sitting in our laps until we realize that the day has passed. I wonder how many of us live half lives in order to avoid failing. I wonder if it is because we think that we still have time to do it, after all we are only twenty or forty or sixty and life has been alright so far. But maybe it could have been everything you wanted and more. I suppose it is your priorities, your dreams, your past. We all must choose for ourselves, but once you chance to look at the open road and see the opportunities how can you settle for looking back and seeing all the closed doors that never once you chanced to open?

Fat Cow on a Little Moon

As I stare up into the crisp winter night it hits me that perhaps those little specks up there are not what they really seem. I mean what if in reality the cow jumped over the moon and got stuck? Where would his cow patties go? This 'universal' question brings me to this: who made up nursery rhymes and in all seriousness who really understands the jabberwock that comes out of their kid's mouths? I have seen, on many occasions, bilingual mothers. The child opens their mouth and out gushes a torrent of flibber-de-flabber-jabber, then the Mom looks at them as though they have just said something which is completely discernable, and in the attitude of carrying on a 'normal' conversation, they answer back! I am worried by this for at least two reasons. First of all I am now a mom and what if I can't hack it when it comes to jabberwock? Will my child's jabberwock never attain a discernable pattern of speech? And so I listen and try to perfect this strange tongue. But it is not so easy. There is also the body language of this foreign child culture that I must also find a way to emulate! Secondly, I wonder if perhaps we, as a culture, are stunting the growth of our underaged-still-developing wee tykes when do not allow this period of random goggling. Just imagine, if I would have been allowed more linguistic freedom to banter on unintelligibly, then I might eventually have come up with something brilliant like Einstein or Benjamin Franklin...

My Truck Swims in Green Pastuers

On a sweet whim I drove up paid the meager seven dollar fee and dropped my truck into nuetral. I felt the random urge to smile, even giggle as a small child does. I was about to go through the car wash! The first pass, all is well I sit back and listen whilst the rain-like gush of the power hoses envelope my truck, this is so very sweet! It occurs to me that at times in our lives we find ourselves in experiences which remind us of childhood days. These experiences take us back to the simple emotions and pleasures which life was full of those days. For me these experiences include a sense of unalterable happiness. I revel in walking upon the crispy alder leaves in the fall, taking a bubble bath, or splashing through muddy spring puddles. This is the stuff of life! As I get older I forget these frivolous foundations of days gone by. I grasp at the occasional glimpse I get. Some may say that we are 'too old' or perhaps that there is 'no time', but aren't these moments the important ones? The ones which we too rarely allow to pass us by only to look back and wish we had made the time? If one never realizes that they are sitting on the beach then they will never see the vast ocean which spans the horizon. If you find yourself wanting, then get to doing, and the wanting will turn to being...

Superman is Spanish and Drives a Taxi

Craziness! I was unpleasantly able to experience the phenomenonally consternating lock-my-keys-and-kid-in-the-automobile-incident...Needless to say this was not exactly one of my shining moments. I now no longer need wonder how This feels...I definitely have an aversion to this type of experience, but now that the said experience has been experienced and the horror is over....I am phsycologially balanced once agian! I was a little freaked out to begin with seein as my lil' man is only three weeks old and I had all these thoughts running through my head of how it might be impossible to get to him and that it might take hours to get a locksmith. But wonder of wonders taxi drivers actually can herocially drive to your rescue in these ridiculous situations! Needless to say it is definitely cheaper and much less stressful to go to your local Home Depot and pay the one dollar and forty-seven cent fee to get a copy of the offending key before such ridiculous situations occur!