Shallower than the kiddie pool

I don't get introspective here on my blog. Normally, cyberspace is where people bare their souls to complete strangers for attention and comments like "ur awsum srsly!" But I try not to. I am only interested in introspection as far as it's related to moving furniture around and trying to decipher things Paul says (like yesterday when he said, "Hey mom, you know that song 'Hometown California?'"* The dog knows I died laughing. What dog, you ask? Nevermind).

Why don't I get deep on this blog? Because I'm not deep. I am 5 foot 4 inches; how deep can I be? I'll never be poetic--my poetic attempts are limited to odes to oatmeal and random rhyme schemes (I also favor alliteration, but not very often). I can't describe a scene of tear-jerking nostalgia or love in language chosen to rip your heart out with pangs of desire for bygone days and teddybears and childhood. (and I mix metaphors) I much prefer yammering on about band concerts, old photos, lists of ten things, and playing "guess the reference."

But events have conspired to hit pause on the DVD player of my life (my metaphors lack finesse, don't they? They are like using a scrub brush to paint a miniature portrait) and I found myself spending an inordinate amount of time thinking in the past few days. No, not about the meaning of life (We are merely spiraling coils of self-replicating DNA-nay-nay-nay... Name that tune!) (other answer: 42. Ah, if I live long enough to be 42, I will blog on the answers to Life, The Universe, and Everything....any other Douglas Adams fans out there?). No, I am pondering why. Why do people do the things they do, or say the things they say? And then pondering the chance that perhaps people who do things and say things do not realize what consequences those deeds and words have.

I've had my feelings hurt recently and it completely changed my perception of a relationship.** It is interesting that a few words (6 words total) can work such magic. One minute, one image. Next minute, a complete reevaluation of my abilities, and of such things as friendship, trust, and mutual regard. One minute, hope in a description of futurity. Next minute, fear and challenge.

end of introspection, or in computer speak: [/introspection]

I have no answers. I've just been thinking and making serious faces at odd moments. (I hope my face doesn't freeze that way. I suppose it wouldn't matter if it did. You probably couldn't tell the difference anyway. I've been asked "Why are you so sad/mad?"--yes, I have! Srsly!--when I haven't been the least bit mournful or wrathful. My face is just not a naturally smiling face. At rest, my mouth turns down. And my eyes are too beady to be jolly)

And if you tell me to cheer up in the comments and are worried that I am depressed, it'll be razzberries for you. I'll roll my eyes at you too.

*He meant "Hotel California" by the Eagles. His father was sorely disappointed in his lack of knowledge about such a culturally significant song by a favorite band.
**NO, I won't tell you what happened. And none of you who read this are the guilty party or are involved IN ANY WAY. None of you. So don't ask. If you do ask, I will not respond. I am forgiving and forgetting. Well, not so much forgetting. Trying to anyway. Sadly, blogging about it doesn't help me forget things. But forgiving, I am making progress there. If you do choose to comment on this post, make it something about, oh, I don't know, shoes? Or dust, or Pluto, or random number generators, or calciferous fens, or Philly cheesesteak, or dollies, or the propensity of the bowling ball to spin to the left...

Oh, BTW, Happy last day of the old year! Time to break out a new one! Go, '09!