Since I’ve begun clawing my way through every episode of This American Life at work, I can’t get Modern Jackass out of my mind.
I don’t think I’m alone in that every time I see a large group of birds I think of my grandfather. There must be something about old men brains that just draws them in to the migratory patterns of birds. And furthermore, there is something about old men brains that makes them want to connect with the children in their lives through this interest.
And, although I have taken an interest of some sort in birds since I was young, changing the colored water in the hummingbird feeders and helping my grandfather hose down the large concrete bird baths in the yard, I feel that this fall might mark a new level for me. There is something about this year that makes the groups of birds stand out more than before in the backdrop of the changing foliage. My fatigue has certainly played a part in it, having been forced to slow down everything but my eyeballs. Considering the pace at which I lived my life in my twenties, I could not say that I saw this change coming. But I managed to land in my thirties, pear-shaped and judgmental. And more interested in the group dynamic of birds.
On a more topical note, am I the only person who pictures that naked Mr. Burns portrait every time I read any information about Petraeus’ extramarital affair? I mean, come on.
Managed to make it clear through the election with the level of political apathy normally reserved for college kids. No bus tour is going to tell me to rock the vote.
Not to say that I’m not glad that the results are what they are, with extremism taking a hit, but overall I am too sleepy to care. Maybe it has something to do with how I receive my news nowadays, too. There’s something isolating about reading everything about the world on a handheld device. At least the act of reading a newspaper is, by definition, a social act in that it takes up so much space. Taking up an obnoxious amount of space is very social.
Right now, and this is an unusual feeling for me, it totally makes sense to just want to sit around the house and watch unscripted sports. Just after lunch I begin to get a little panicked in that I know the daylight is leaving me, and although there’s something invigorating about breathing in the dead leaves in the morning, overall I feel like I am ready to crash. I bet there’s a huge upswing in Lazy Boy sales in the first weeks following the daylight savings time rollback. Corporate conspiracy.
Life goal achieved when we recently played St. Stephens. Also, for those not in the know, our new ep.
Two crucial notes related to last night’s presidential candidate debate and how it ultimately all comes back to me. Jordan in her twenties would have relished the opportunity to jump on a comment such as the “binder full of women” flub. Even taken out of context, it’s almost too perfect to pass up. Actually, especially taken out of context it’s a loaded statement.
But Jordan in her thirties kind of feels as if it is time to pass the torch on to someone else who has the energy to make the obvious comments. Jordan in her thirties fully believes that it does not matter how stupid a candidate is, or how out of touch they are with reality,or how ridiculous the things they say are, as long as there is a larger percentage of registered voters who fall anywhere on the spectrum that is, for lack of a better term, stupider. Nothing I say can change that, and it’s best to take a zen approach. You should have seen some of the insightful and brilliant observations I made about the things said during the first four Bush years. It didn’t change a thing about the second four years.
I don’t even think anyone from his administration read my zines.
Second, I can’t believe we still expect our politicians to wear flag lapel pins like it’s crazy go nuts. If we’re going to judge the amount of America in their hearts by such a small accessory, we should at least make that accessory more difficult to come by than a pin you can buy at the gas station. Like this button advertising Tom Cruise’s All the Right Moves. Or these green New Kids on the Block earrings. Americans can have such odd measures of loyalty, but in this case I feel as if we’ve set the bar too low.
So anyways, as I will not be putting any future self worth into the cleverness of my zingers relative to what people who run my life but don’t care about my life have to say, I would like to talk about the accomplishments that Jordan in her thirties is actually proud of.
So, moving on, it’s a new time in my life where in I have neither the energy nor motivation to talk about things the candidates say. I am in my thirties, and I worry about getting food on my clothes, and I drink weird sodas, and I take supplements, and I let things slide.
The math should be easy enough to do, but I’m somehow unable to do it. I think it’s because it’s 6:53am and my body is wondering why I’m awake anyways. So is my mind, for that matter. All I remember is that I was having a dream where I was working in an office in Africa and my coworker (played by the same character actor who played Newman on Seinfield) was about to shoot everyone in the office so I made a run for it. I ran to the home of my in-laws because evidently I was married. While there I told them in a panic that I was being chased by someone who was about to shoot me and they nonchalantly said, “Okay, well you can stay here, but we’re having trouble hooking our Nintendo up to this TV, can you help us out?” So, while I was being stalked by a crazy office guy with a gun I took a few minutes to hook up their Nintendo and show them how to use the light gun. And then I woke up because my self or whatever was all like, “That’s just too fucking ridiculous.”
That guy who played Newman on Seinfield was embedded in my dream life after I saw Jurassic Park. I don’t know what happened, I understand that it’s still just a movie, but I’ve felt betrayed by that guy ever sense. I mean, he doesn’t Teddy Ruxpin creep me out, but he definitely puts me ill at ease.
Sometimes I am just blown away by how the screens that we watch from birth to blindness control our dreams. I mean, really, how many times have you driven a car into the Tanner’s kitchen in your dreams as a result of Full House brain-washing? But then I think about what we did before we had screens, and had to base our dream life on the whack things our brains can come up with based on illustrated bible stories or fairy tales, and I think god for the alternative.