Major Iceborg

My phone rang, so I answered it:

Me: Hello?

Chris: Is that you, Major Iceborg?

Me: Gimmie the cashhhhhhh!!

It's hard to have a conversation with anyone in my family unless you have a fairly good knowledge of all the films and television shows we have ever seen. Or, just do like my sister-in-law did, just start adding your own quotes and pretending everyone else understands.

As continued proof of our madness, today I sent an email to my little brother. It read:

Hey Bri! Do you dig graves? Love, Maaike

To which he wrote back:

Yeah, they're all right.

We spent the whole day sending a sentence at a time to each other and covered The Young Ones, A Christmas Story, and Sneakers. (Not too long ago we spent an entire day on The Emperor's New Groove.)

Mom and Dad are not immune to this. One of Dad's favorites was "What you talkin' 'bout, Willis?" He'd also sit in the living room and suddenly shout, "A glass of water for Mr. Granger!" which meant that I was to get him a glass of water. Mom also joined in by raising her thumbs while I told a story a la one of my favorite moments from Scrubs: What has two thumbs and doesn't give a crap? Bob Kelso, nice to meet you.

Even the nieces and nephews don't stray from the pattern. Liam and Lexie could do a whole bit from Spongebob Squarepants when Patrick was trying to be just like Spongebob.

Most of our conversations whenever they veer towards the serious will eventually be interrupted by some silliness which, in our lingo, means: I'm uncomfortable with this level of personal intimacy I will therefor deflect it with a quote: Sorry, Venkman, I'm terrified beyond the capacity for rational thought.

This is not just a Davidson phenomenon. I became really good friends with Christina because I was singing "You seem easy and willing to put out, so roll in the cream cheese, roll in the cream cheese!" Daniel R. says to me, "As you wish, Buttercup." and Daniel M. quotes music just as compulsively as we quote film.

I guess it comes down to what are we willing to share about ourselves when all we can think to say are words that have been used by someone else. Granted, one phrase can often sum up what we are feeling without having to go into details.

Like this:

Gee, Dad. If I can't have a sled, just say so.

No More Good Deeds

Today I discovered once again that doing "good deeds" will just bite me in the ass. No more good deeds for me. The rest of the world seems to get by on selfishness and I'm finally joining them.

I pick a fuzz-ball from John's pants and it wafts down to be forever lost in my bag. Great. I'm trying to get over a fruitless crush by introducing the object of my unrequited affection to a girl he might actually find attractive (while wanting to stab her, really) only to discover that she already has a boyfriend. (& I still don't despite the fact that my "lizard skin" on my hand has actually cleared up and I got that no-one-will-ever-love-you mole removed from my head.)

Other good deeds have led to girls getting asked out on dates by the guys I wanted to be dating; someone else getting the job I really wanted; another person getting a good grade because I gave them the idea for their paper, etc...the list goes on.

Therefore, I give up. No more good deeds from me. You're all on your own. I'm going to be selfish and start watching out for people doing good deeds for ME so I can snatch the moment away, be happy, and THEY can be the ones in misery caused by a misguided desire to "be good."

Bad Dreams Won't Leave Me

Last night I had another dream in which everyone I love has abandoned me. This time I was the queen of some country and my brother, Brian, was out in outer space flying some secret mission. Everyone I turned to wouldn't give me any comfort over the fact that we hadn't heard anything from him. I was the most important woman in this country, but no one would give me information.

This is a variation on a theme that has been creeping into my dreams for about two weeks now. Every night I dream some version of the people I love going away never to return. Sometimes they leave en masse and I am just left behind. No one turns their heads back to even see me standing there.

Some people don't actively leave me, they do so passively by NOT coming to my aid or by pretending they didn't see me. Sometimes the dreams are futuristic. Sometimes the world looks like ours today. But no matter the situation they all end the same: I am crying out for help and NO ONE is coming to my aid.

I'm trying to figure out the origin of these dreams. I've done the feng shui thing of clearing everything out from under my bed. I've have good days. Honestly. I'm busy, but I'm not overwhelmed or frustrated by too much to do. Things haven't been bad in my real life. I haven't been reading anything unusual before I go to sleep and I've run out of time for much television. Mostly I watch Jeopardy! and that's it.

The only source I can identify is the build up of stress in my body. Mainly located in my neck and shoulders. There is so much tension built up that I can't even lift weights to do my upper-body strength exercises because my shoulder ACHES so badly. I've tried heating pad and standing under hot water in my shower. I've tried ibuprofen and the like.

I hope this is the cause and when I can find someone to massage my aches out of me (sometime in February one of my cast members said he'd help) I can get away from these terrible dreams. I am so tired of being abandoned by those I love. Even though it only happened in a dream, our bodies can't tell the difference between dreamed emotions and real ones and it's so hard every morning to re-convince myself that those I love are still here.

At least I hope you are.

I Want To Live in This Bird House

Last Sunday I was over at Mouse's house watching "America's Funniest Videos". I find such evil glee in watching other people fall down. Schadenfreude at its best in me. Anyway, the show got over and I packed up to leave. Mouse said, "Don't you want to watch Extreme Home Makeover?"

"Yes, but don't you have a show you usually watch?"

"The season has ended."

"Well, this is a two hour special."

"That's okay. I've just got some stuff to work on."

So I stayed. I sat on his floor cutting out patterns of soft toys I'm going to be sewing and he sat at his table typing away on his computer. Every now and then we'd say something to each other but mostly those two hours went by in relative silence.

How peaceful it was. How comforting to know that I can stay there with him and just be there. That he was okay with my presence and I with his. I've always thought that he and I could easily share a living space but I think that level of comfort just proved it to me. However, since I plan on living in a one-bedroom birdhouse when I grow up, I don't think there's enough room for his CD's and boxes of zines...there's only enough room for mine.

Life Is Just One Big Fish Slapping Dance

(click the title and it will take you to the Fish Slapping Dance)

I'm a nice person. I get that. I understand that. Am I inherently nice or do I force myself to be that way. I'm a Scorpio...you can imagine the inner conflict.

People assume I'm nice. That's what bothers me. Sure, I do stuff to help people--but I'm just like the rest of you, I only help people if they're people I want to help. Kylie or Daniel calls me with something, I'll be there in a flash. Some random person: I probably won't even answer the phone.

The problem is that no one will let me NOT be nice. "Oh, this girl has depression problems, Maaike understands, let's put them together in a group." "No one gets along with this guy because he's a butt-head, but Maaike's nice so let's put her with him." "She's really hard to get along with, but Maaike's so easy-going we'll just have them share an office." If these people had ASKED me first if I wanted to be put in these situations I'd have said NO! But when they just put me there, I rarely stand up for myself. Something has to push me to the edge. It's hardly fair.

I've been me for a very long time now. I've spent a lot of time "rescuing" the strays of society. Not because I felt obligated to do so, but because that's where I'm most comfortable. I'm weird. I'm naive. I'm damaged. That's where I live. I help people others don't even see.

My question is: When is someone going to RESCUE ME?!

That's why I feel like Life is just a big Fish Slapping Dance. I feel like I am constantly getting thrown into the filthy water where I find someone, pull them out, bring them up to the dry ground, where they thank me and then leave me to my Fate. And I get slapped again. Back into the water and the whole thing starts over again.

I'm tired of being Strong. I'm tired of putting on a brave face. I'm tired of HELPING! I want to be HELPED! When will someone recognize that all of this takes a LOT of work on my part! My soul cries out with all its hurt and longing and desires and all that it gets is people who need me to be strong!

Maybe that's why I identify to quickly with Elanor in "Sense and Sensibility" when Marianne says, "Always acceptance and resignation...where is your heart?" and Elanor finally lets loose with the pain inside of her. Of course I have to keep it all in: first of all because I feel that there are too many people who NEED me to be the strong one and secondly in my whole life I have discovered that NO ONE will come to my rescue. NO ONE.

Okay. I'm going to sleep now. I just needed to rant a bit. Maybe instead I'll watch another movie where things blow up. I'm in the mood for a good explosion.

When You Were Little Did You Ever Dream of Being a Ninja?

Most little girls want to be Princesses. I wanted to either be magic and run the world or be an assassin for some spy ring--a ninja of the highest rank. That would have been extremely cool.

When I looked for classes at school I found "Home Economics" but not "Ninja Training". I learned to macramé but I never did learn how to do a proper flying scissor kick. I did discover that I have short tendons in my arms and hands so I might not have been the best of Ninja since I can't fully extend my arm! I would have ROCKED as a Ninja. I'm nearly 6 foot tall, I'm beautiful (not cute--I'd be one of those spies that my greatest weapon would be my looks, including my C-cups), and, what might be the leading reason for my desire to be secretive and stealthy, I'm a Scorpio.

Unfortunately when I exercise my face turns bright red and EVERY p.e. teacher I ever had made me sit down with a wet towel on my face. So I quit exercising and put on weight. Still tall, still C-cups, still beautiful, just overlooked because I'm "chubby".

I'm not a ninja. I still practice my ninja moves like this cat is doing. I practice running for my life if I need to. (I'd have been a ninja who was an expert at parcourse (sp?), as well.)

I've always wanted to be something more than just me. Something that people would wonder about. They'd look at me and I'd stand there with perfect posture, tall, thin, gorgeous, and with a certain confidence shining through my eyes, and they'd wonder, "Who is this girl...and why am I slightly afraid of her?"

Yep...I'm A Flower

I am a Snapdragon What Flower Are You?

"Mischief is your middle name, but your first is Friend. You are quite the prankster that loves to make other people laugh."