#44 The Inbetween Land

“Where am I?”, the man called out. The foggy grey space he appeared in did not answer. The cool feel of mist, alternating to light rain, swirled around him. He couldn’t figure out how he got here.

The last thing he remembered, he was sitting at his desk at work. After checking his list of items to attend to, his email, and his various websites for around the thousandth time, he sat there, staring at the walls around him. He was in between projects at the moment, or more aptly put, he didn’t have anything pressing and had little ambition to take on anything until it shoveled back to him. His work necessitated these ebbs and flows of action items, as coordinating with a dozen or more teams invariably left him with days where he was overloaded, and days where he was underloaded. Today was one of the latter.

But then it all changed, and he found himself in this space. A grey space, with no discernible start or stop. There was some light, but no visible light source. There was a breeze, accompanying the moisture, but no discernible hotness or coldness to it. With nothing concrete in terms of sensory input, he found it odd that below him, on the surface of the floor, street, rock, or whatever he was standing on, was a perfectly shaped circle, about 10 feet in diameter. He stood in the middle of it, its red outline visible despite the muted scenery.

red circle © by lucamascaro

He carefully walked closer to the edge of it, and reached down. Beyond the red line was solid, at least, so he abandoned his fear of falling if he walked beyond the ring. With great trepidation he stepped over the line. Suddenly the world around him changed. The rain became heavier, and colder. The wind picked up with an icy chill. It grew darker as well, the clouds seemingly bunched up as if crowding into an ethereal elevator. The man quickly took a step back. The climate began to return to its previous state.

Puzzled, he walked to the opposite side of the circle, and stepped out. Now the wind left completely, and the clouds began to part to show a gleaming white sun. The space became lighter, and hotter. This wasn’t exactly what the man wanted either, so he stepped back into the circle. The world returned to its middle ground.

And so the man found himself in the Inbetween state. He longed for it to change, but was unwilling to experience the extremities offered outside the red circle. However if he stayed in the circle, he would never experience anything more than the state he was in. The choice was his – venture beyond the safe confines, and learn how to cope with the hustle and bustle of the definite shift in realities, or stay put, safe but unfulfilled.

It was about this moment that he realized that he had a third option. He had merely stepped over the line, and backed into the circle as soon as things shifted. He turned to his right and stepped out of the line, and strode confidently away from the circle. The weather again shifted, however the extremes soon subsided. In moving into the chaos, he had embraced it. And by embracing it, he had conquered it.

[SSDay]

#43 If Pets Could Talk

If Pets Could Talk…

Dog: 

“OMG you’re home! I’m so happy to see you. I did so much today while you were away! It might not seem like much, but they were a thousand little victories and I will share each one with you! Wait… don’t go away… keep playing with me! Hey – is that FOOD? You gotta hook me up with some of that man – really – it looks SO TASTY! You won’t give me the food? OK then… I guess that’s cool… even though I REALLY WANT IT. Anyway, back to my day. First I chased something, then I caught something, then I dug around, then I….”

Ella the Snow Dog © by jpctalbot

Fish:

“Why do you keep me in this glass prison? What lies beyond this great forcefield? And why is my little castle surrounded by multicolored rocks? Couldn’t the decorator pick out one color? Oh no, not those stupid flakes again… guess I’ll grab some.”

Hamster © by Paul Holloway

Hamster:

“Good god you’re huge… thankfully I’ve got these tubes to crawl into. Can you spare something wood-based for me to chew on? Don’t worry, I won’t get fat – I got this squeaky wheel I can run in at midnight”.

Bird:

“I like flying – why don’t you let me out more? Sorry I leave my droppings everywhere – it’s just sorta my thing. If you play the same sound for me over and over, I might start imitating it – however I’ll want to poke your eyes out for making me listen to it so much. Now open the window so I can talk to my friends”

Horse:

“Just so you know, if I ever break my leg, I’m not telling you. I’ve heard things…”

Cat:

We will only converse when I want to. And right now I have some important sleeping to do. I’ll be back later when you’re busy and we’ll talk then.”

Guinea Pig:

So what if I have a weight problem? Provide me some greens that I might feast on in addition to these ‘pellets’ you so like to feed me. And turn on Wonder Pets, I dig that the Guinea Pig on there is the leader, even if they all do have a combined IQ of 3″

Giraffe:

Why would you ever keep me as a pet? My neck is sticking out your window, and you really need to re-shingle your roof buddy.”

Giraffe © by Chester Zoo

[SSDay]

On Information or Lack Thereof

It’s spring break here at Columbia, and that means our normal “information” board outside my office has no real information to display (i.e. nothing is going on). I was going to post this as a humorous ‘disinformation’ board, however it got me thinking. It’s displaying the time & date (which are right) and nothing else. I guess the moral is “If you have nothing to say, simply say what you know to be true”. Any of us out there that like to BS from time to time might find a bit of wisdom in that!

#42 Rage

Tim was always a little bit of a loser. Not that anyone ever called him that. Most people referred to him as ‘meek’, ‘mild’, or ‘reserved’. All of those meant that he wasn’t exactly known to be the life of the party, the outgoing guy everyone wants to hang with, or the man you’d most like to stick up for you in a fight (verbal or physical). Tim existed most days, and lived on rare opportunities.

One day, as he was walking home, a man walked by a bit too close and pushed into him. The man hadn’t done it intentionally – it was a crowded sidewalk and he’d simply moved a few centimeters to the right when he shouldn’t have. But because the man was taller than Tim, and bigger, the push happened to sting a bit, physically. Tim’s emotions had long ago been stung by society, so it wasn’t really any sort of emotional reaction he felt. He did, however, become angry when he realized that the man had made no attempt at apologizing. No small “oh – sorry” or “pardon me” had occurred. The man simply walked along as if nothing had happened, no doubt wondering why his arm felt slightly warmer than it had before. No pain though, so no stopping.

Tim slunk down into his seat on the bus, thinking about the incident. For some reason, it began to make him madder and madder at every stuttering stop and start that the bus made. Finally after 20 blocks or so, Tim was livid and angry to a point that he’d never been before. It wasn’t just Mr. Push-you-over-guy, it was his whole life. It was the fact that he had a low paying job and couldn’t afford a car. It was the fact that his managers regularly promoted others below him to above him, citing vague reasons. It was all of those things. So when the bus lurched one more time, Tim decided not to stop his fist from tapping against the window next to him. In fact, he accelerated it’s arrival.

That’s when the most amazing thing happened. Tim slammed his hand up against the window. But rather than the window pushing back, it began to crack. A long, deep gash began to spread up the window, spidering out into smaller veins of brokenness, until a few moments later, the window shattered, with pieces of glass covering Tim and the seats around him.

The bus driver pulled over, and since the bus was fairly empty, Tim simply told him that he’d been thrown into the window by a sudden stop, and it cracked and shattered. The bus driver called for paramedics, to look Tim over, and within a few moments various cars began to pull up.

Months later, Tim received a check from the city. Seems that if a bus shatters you with glass, prompting you to receive stitches, miss work due to injuries, and subsequently be ‘let go’ because you missed a few days, the city rewards you with several thousand dollars. Of course some of that went to his attorney, but he still sat with a somewhat large chunk of change. Within a few weeks he’d found another job, and life went back very much to the way it had been before the bus incident.

Then one day, Tim saw the man who had pushed him, walking along the street. The rage he felt from that day became more pronounced as they neared each other. Finally Tim was going to stand up for himself. As the man approached, Tim boldly crossed into his path. The man, however, didn’t notice Tim and again pushed past him. Harder this time. So Tim reached down and grabbed a rock, spinning and throwing it at the man. The rock landed well shy and bounced along the ground, while passersby wondered why Tim had thrown it. Enraged, Tim ran to catch up with the man. But even cursing at him on the loud city street did nothing – the noise of the cars and the man’s earbuds killed any effect it would have had.

Moral of the story: Sometimes violence solves problems. Most of the time, it doesn’t.

[SSDay]

#41 A Letter To The Eager Train Lady

Dear Lady,

I try to see the good in every one, giving the benefit of the doubt. But you defy my logic skills – I simply can’t figure you out! You push your way into the spot, closest to the door, as if the extra inches you gain, increase your experience score. I sometimes find myself tempted, on days you seem most high strung, to place myself between you and the door, proverbially sticking out my tongue.

But maybe you have your reasons, I can’t say I’ve ever inquired. You might have been left behind as a child, abandoned and forgotten, a lifelong compulsion thus inspired. Or maybe you think the doors will close quickly, as they are sometimes apt to do, and the usual conductor will judge you sickly, and to the next station carry you.

Finally, you might just be rude.

But then again, I try to see the good in everyone.

Sincerely,

The big guy in the black coat.

#40 The Big 4 Oh

“OMG” is what he said
upon realization
That he had written and read
almost 40 dramatizations

“WTF” is what he said
upon rationalization
That #40 rattling around his head
needed justfication.

“LOL” is what he said
upon interpretation
That #40 might be led
to excessive clairification

“It’s just an odd poem, OK man” is what he said.
submitted for your validation!

[SSDay]

#39 The Teddy Bear

“Come on Nicki, time for bed”, Nicki’s mother called out from the top of the stairs. Her reluctant daughter slowly dragged herself up the seemingly endless stairs. She didn’t want to go to bed, but she felt tired, so she resigned herself to the fact that Mom was to be obeyed. Mom was tired too. It wasn’t yet 9 PM but it might as well have been midnight. Long days are common for single moms.

Nicki’s mom tucked her daughter into the bed, and watched as Nicki grabbed her big fluffy teddy bear, Cuddly Joe, from his usual resting place on the pillow next to her. Cuddly Joe had been with Nicki through a lot – illnesses, the divorce, and moving from place to place. Nicki couldn’t sleep without Cuddly Joe, and at her age, Nicki’s mom was a long way off of suggesting her daughter ditch the bear. If it gave her a sense of security, then it was worth the hassle of toting it everywhere they went overnight.

“Mommy”, Nicki called out, “Cuddly Joe smells funny!”.

“What do you mean honey?”, her mother said wearily.

“He doesn’t smell like he’s ‘asposed to”, Nicki said adamantly.

“Honey, maybe he needs washing, or it’s just your imagination”, her mother said reassuringly, “We can figure it out in the morning.”.

“NO”, Nicki said, “He doesn’t smell right, and I can’t go to sleep until he does”.

Nicki’s mom knew that her daughter wouldn’t go quietly on this issue. When Nicki decided to pick a fight about her stuffed animals (or her stuff in general), she seldom gave in.

“Nicki honey, Cuddly Joe might just need a bath, or maybe it’s another smell from the day you’re smelling. Mommy can fix it tomorrow, but tonight we’re both tired, we should just get some rest. We’ll work it out in the morning”, her mother said to the child.

“NO”, Nicki said again,”It aint right”.

So Nicki’s mother spent another few minutes rationalizing to her daughter that things would be OK and that Cuddly Joe was fine, the world was fine, and everything could be fixed in the morning. At the end, she concluded with a strongly worded “Goodnight”. Nicki said nothing.

Turning on a small lamp, Nicki’s mom could see her asleep in the bed. “That was easier than usual”, she thought to herself. She left the room and started toward her own bedroom. It was weird that Nicki would find Cuddly Joe smelling different – she never complained about that before. Nicki would often smell Cuddly Joe to reassure herself at night, but never complained. Oh well, they were just so tired tonight, perhaps her daughter was acting a bit loopy.

Nicki’s mom found herself sitting in an old rocking chair that normally served it’s purpose of holding a pile of laundry, not rocking. How did she end up here? She started feeling sick, and all at once the pieces fell together.

A few hours later she woke up in the ER. Upon seeing her eyes light up, the nurse attending to her quickly told her exactly what she wanted to know.

“Mrs. Smith, don’t worry – you’re going to be fine, so is your daughter. It was a close one, but you managed to get yourself and her out of the house just in time. A neighbor of yours was jogging by and noticed you. He called 911. Any longer in there and that leak would have been… fatal”.

Nicki’s mom felt a shock of relief come over her. A few hours later they wheeled her next to Nicki’s bed, where Nicki lay sleeping. Her vital signs were good, there was no brain damage due to the lack of oxygen, and right next to her in the hospital bed was Cuddly Joe.

[SSDay]

#38 Brussel Sprouts

I like them, she doesn’t
I pretend they’re little green heads
she believes they are vegetable horrors
Why the hate?

Author’s Note: Short and sweet tonight – just like my wife who has agreed to try cooking Brussel sprouts for the first time since we’ve been together. She’s got an incredibly complex recipe for them, but hey, in the end I get my sprouts and she gets to pretend they aren’t vegetables. She was happy to find out they grow on stalks though. I was unimpressed.

[SSDay]

#37 What If

What if in the moment that we die, death arrives
offering us the opportunity to stay in that second
for as long as we like.
How long do we stay behind?

What if we’re not waiting for the next big thing.
We’re in the next big thing, and won’t realize it
until the little things return.
Will we be happy with our actions?

What if time is more subjective than we believe, and
the only thing holding us back is
our own expectations?
Can we find the secret to controling it’s pace?

What if the meaningless conversations we have,
are actually the most important ones
we will ever have with another human.
Would we appreciate them more?

What if we’re only supposed to enjoy life,
our plan is not to conquer or accomplish.
Our plan is to simply exist.
Could we handle that reality?

What if my victory is really a defeat to 1,000
and the victories of 1,000 are only a small setback
to me.
How would I live with myself?

What if your life can’t be measured by any number
but only by a thought, emotion, or mood.
Of those around you.
What is your rating?

[SSDay]