Monday, September 28, 2009
I went out to eat with some friends a few days ago. Being Polynesians, we naturally start making fun of each other. One of the girls started to tell a story about me and made a growling sound as she pretended to lift some heavy object in the story. We all laughed, but that got the ol' wheels turning... do I make that sound unconsciously? I started to travel back into my memory and realized that other people make the growl when they describe me lifting things also. I hope that I'm not walking around all day making the sounds of distant thunder to innocent bystanders. The last thing I need is an old lady keeling over because she thought a bear mauling was eminent. I'm already big and scary looking. I don't need people to think that I am a wild animal in heat too. It makes me wonder what other things I do subconsciously as well...
Do I do the things that drive me crazy? Do I slurp my noodles, or chew with my mouth open? Do I say things like supposibly instead of supposedly? Do I constantly raise my eyebrows when I speak to people like Shaq does or pronounce the word cross with a "T" at the end? These are just a few things on a long list of things that I might do.
Now I feel self-conscious about the things I do. I bite my lip when I pick up salt shakers, pencils, the morning paper, and the car keys. Sure you would expect some kind of audible vocalization when lifting heavy things, but why take the chance. There is another side of me that wants to embrace the snarl, a more primal and wild side of my brain. In this spirit, I would like to try other bestial articulations. Maybe a howl as my boss greets me in the morning, or a gruff bark to the neighbors. I'm even willing to try a ...meow. Maybe not.
Thanks for the Vent Session...
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Ever do anything that you really don't want to do, but do it anyway. I have a fear of heights but not of flying... go figure and I spent the majority of the day 40 feet up in the air on a scissor lift. If you've never been in one, count yourself among the blessed. These dang contraptions are unstable in the best of conditions. A stiff breeze will send it plummeting faster than Vanilla Ice's career or like that poor baby in the lullaby rock-a-bye-baby (this song may also be a contributor to my fear of heights).
Anyway, I was working on the lift, trying not to throw up all over the deck every time it swayed, when one of my co-workers thought it would be funny to smack the bottom of my lift with a ten foot stick of pipe. I feel the banging race through my body and the subsequent shakes and sways of the lift and I figure that the lift is malfunctioning, so I brace myself for eminent death. As I watched my life flash before my eyes (wondering whether I should have had a better last meal, of all things) I hear the cackling of my co-worker... the rage that bubbled to the surface would have made the Devil himself quake in fear. I lower my lift, all the while cursing his name, jumped over the railing, and grab him by his shirt collar. Powered by my anger, I lift him about a foot off the ground, with my left arm, and threaten to break off his arms and beat him to death while shaking my fist under his nose. Then I unceremoniously drop him to the floor and stomp off before I carry out my threats.
Usually, I am a very calm guy and keep in mind this guy is about 60 years old, but I couldn't care less if he saw 61 at the time. I feel that I "may" have acted a little rashly, but my life did indeed flash before my eyes after all. Looking back, I think I may have given him a mild heart attack. What did I learn from all this? I need to live a more interesting life so I can have something good to watch at the end.
Thanks for the Vent Session...