Wednesday, September 16, 2009
The State of "Eh" Begins HERE.
Hey y'all.. Sooooo.. I've decided to put together a little collection of (slightly fiction) short stories for you. This is 1 of 20.
The collection is called "The State of 'Eh''
Enjoy the first chapter. Please feel free to leave comments.. You guys never leave comments! What's THAT about?? lol. ok. GO!
The State of EH
Chapter 1- Yogurtgate
I had been happy with the way things were going for awhile. Not ecstatically happy, but then again that's never really been my style. Content, not as moody, drinking less. All this happiness and normalcy was bringing me the fuck down.
I know, sounds weird. I don't happen to think I'm weird, but I've heard that a lot. A LOT. From a lot of different types of people. Some of these people I dearly care for, the other 99% I could really stand to never see or talk to again. I don't think you can judge someone's weirdness by your own level of normalcy.
The point of it all being, that I was unhappy, with being happy.
How then, do you fuck yourself into being pleased with dissatisfaction? Self sabotage came as the answer. I had to self sabotage my own happiness in order to be more morose, which was actually "moreatpeace". This would create a new state of "eh" for me. "Eh" is where I generally feel comfortable resting my feelings and emotions. "Eh" is safe, reliable and free from disappointing expectations. Of others, of myself, of others behavior in public, of MY behavior in public.
I had tried, but, nothing brought me back to the feeling of completion like "whatever" did.
He was great. Too great. Nothing was wrong with this guy. I mean, NOTHING.
He put the cap back on the toothpaste. I never even knew where that thing WAS. I would lose it after the first use and just let the dried toothpaste act as a sealant. I thought this was quite effective, as well as time saving. He thought it was - "grossly negligent and.. just.. just.. why honey?"
Then he would tousle my hair (which I kinda liked) and kiss me on the cheek, saying - "It's ok babe, I'll get another toothpaste. You're adorable."
He did, he kept buying them. I kept a stash of my grody, dried ones under the sink. Until he found them, which resulted in more of the same tousling and kissing.
I think I wanted him to get a little angry. Not that I wanted a FIGHT, I just didn't want to always be in the RIGHT. Poet, don't know it.
We might have had an argument once. He preferred to list it as - "airing our grievances."
I preferred to list it as - "SHOWDOWN MOTHAFUCKA!"
It was about frozen yogurt.
Not the YOGURT itSELF, but the UTENSIL I chose to taste the yogurt with.
It was late in the evening, I was leaning against the kitchen counter and decided to take a taste of the yogurt. I generally don't dig frozen treats in large doses. I can't believe people eat PINTS of ice cream at a time. I've always been envious of movie scenes where chicks are all hugged up on the couch with blankets, in front of TV's, in pajamas, spoon scraping the bottom of their Rocky Road container, to really drive home the "woe is me I've just been dumped" effect.
Never done it.. Can't do it. Would most likely projectile vomit. This might keep the feeling of woe really steady..... I choose bourbon instead.
Back to the yogurt.
I opened the utensil drawer only as much as I had to to stick my hand in a grab A UTENSIL. Any utensil really.. all I wanted was a tiny taste of the damn yogurt.
It ended up being a fork. Had it been a KNIFE, I would have still used it anyway. It can pick up a bite of yogurt, so WHO CARES?
Oh, guess who cares?
I don't think he had noticed it was a fork until I pried the top off and dug in. I forked up the tiniest bite of vanilla, tasted, replaced the top, put it back in the freezer.
I looked up at him to see the most disgusted look in the world. "OMG..what?" I asked. "Are you looking at me like that because I just used a fork? So what?"
It was the look of incredulousness, coupled with the disgust you would see on someone's face while they were forced to watch a puppy get disemboweled.
"Oh my God.. are you really disgusted that I just used a fork? Seriously.... it's not that serious. I just didn't pick a spoon! What's the problem?"
It was very evident that I had thrown off the delicate balance of the universe by using the improper utensil for late night yogurt tasting. He did NOT understand why, how, I could put that fork in that container. It HAD to be done with a spoon.
I was thoroughly disgusted with him being disgusted. I was livid. I yelled for a bit, mocking him and then ended going out to drink with a good friend.
The restaurant we went to had paper lined tables on which I promptly began drawing a visual of how stupid this fight was. I asked the advice of others around us, who also drew small forks, spoons and charts about why in fact, this was ridiculous. I folded them up and put them in my purse. I threw them out a week later, worried that since we were OVER Yogurtgate, he would find them and I would have to go in on this dumb shit yet again.
I never forgot that incident. It made everything seem so stern, so forced into routine and habit, that anything outside of the norm could be considered horrifying. This truly bothered me. I felt like he was seeing my randomness and "eh" as a kind of despicable act at times, only to say it was "inspiring" at others.
I hated feeling like I had to conform, in my own place. Well, his place.. so.. yeah..
Fork, knife, spoon, fucking... CHOPSTICK... what does it matter? As long as it does the job... does it really matter WHAT you're using to get the job done?
I think this was really the first time I had been bothered by the traditional attitude he had sometimes. It didn't comfort me like some of the other things did.. it tossed me into "check yourself" mode......and my friend.. I just can't live like that.