The bandwagon

So, after about two weeks of Internet Explorer not allowing me to access my blog (for absolutely no obvious reason) I've switched back to Firefox. Firefox still doesn't allow me to use the scroll function on my mouse, the original reason I stopped using it. What can I say, I'm kind of lazy. But, after the blogger issue and learning more about how Firefox is safer, I'm sold. I will learn to live without scrolling.

Speaking of bandwagons, today is Fat Tuesday here in Mobile. What that means is, "you partied all weekend, now party some more. You've got all of Lent to get your body to forgive you." Yes, please. I'm not really a big "partier" in the sense of injesting lots of intoxicating substances. I am, however, a big fan of excuses to eat funnel cakes and candy and catch chinese junk being thrown at me from passing parade floats. Every time I go to a parade I can't get over what a fun idea it is. It's a wonderfully over-stimulating experience complete with garish costumes, semi-robotic parade floats and high school bands that dance in sink while playing their instruments. Most of this is entertaining; some of it is shocking. (My high school's band never humped their sousaphones while marching, and the majorettes never wore hot pants.) In addition to all this fun, you get the added sport of trying to catch as much stuff as possible from the maskers. In New Orleans, I hear the standard throw is beads, although I hear the Zulus also throw coconuts. Ouch. Here in Mobile, one is always surprised and has a chance of catching all manner or ridiculous items including Moon Pies, peanuts, stuffed animals, any cheap plastic toy you can think of (my favorite is my new pink plastic whistle), ice cream sandwiches, Dublunes, streamers, beef jerky, entire boxes of oatmeal creme pies, and the list goes on. This weekend, friends came down from all over and, as a team, we faired quite well, subsequently filling my dining room table with a massive mound of junk food and beads.

Our favorite spot to watch the parades is in an area where the crowd is mostly lower to middle income families with children. I was struck by what fun all these free toys and candy must be when you are young and not already spoiled. Amazingly, however, a childlike greed for what are essentially useless items seems to extend to every age group. We were shocked by one old lady who continually demanded of passing band members that they grab "those beads over there" which she was unable to reach because of the parade barricades. I couldn't imagine what she was going to do with all of them. Despite this, I much prefer this crowd to the mostly well-to-do adult crowd one seems to find further downtown. They made me feel sort of ashamed of myself. Also they were more drunk and tacky.

Anyway, if any of my friends are reading this, thanks for a great weekend. I laughed almost the whole time, from the moment the girls team pulled ahead in pictionary, to the moment Amanda asked, "Is there something in my teeth?" to which Karen responded, "If there is, it's tooth-colored." Hilarious.

The other dream was about a man trapped in a space ball. If you really want to know, I can tell you what a space ball is.

Last night I had no less than three distinct disturbing dreams. I guess this is what happens when you go to bed early. One of them involved me listening guiltily to an old teacher of mine rant about how I didn't care about the class. This is related to an event that actually happened and, at the time, the teacher and I were friends. You know, we hung out. We don't hang out any more. We don't even talk. He can have these totalizing views about people and events, and I guess that event led him to believe I was totally not worthy of respect... My dream makes me think that I must still feel guilty about it. I do I guess. Cookie, if you're reading this; sorry. But why has this memory decided to bother me now? Maybe it has to do with my new job and how it involves a lot more responsibility that anything I've ever done before. I'm nervous about it, but I really want to do a good job.

I think that various things throughout my life in which I flaked out have lead me to fear that flakitude is inevitable for me. This fear has caused me to avoid things that are challenging. UNTIL NOW! (say with megaphone). Here in Mobile, the job market is slim. If I want to make money here, it's either bite the bullet and take some responsibility, or I don't know, wait tables and waste away growing big, nasty varicose veins and smoking a lot of cigarettes. There is nothing in between. Yesterday this fact was expressed vividly to me when I went to Walmart to buy supplies for my program. I hate Walmart. Oh, how I hate it. I never shop there for a number of reasons, not least of which is that, on a very visceral level; that shit is creepy. For the program though, it's really the only option if I want to do all the things I have to do in a reasonably short amount of time and stay within the budget. (I will have to explore this web of conflicting ethical concerns another time, but today, it's all about me). Anyway, because I did not have my tax-exemption code to buy the many pairs of scissors and clothespins I needed; a veritable fiasco ensued during which I had the opportunity to talk to some assistant manager type who was very helpful by the way. He explained that he had applied for a position at the girl scouts about the time I did. He had been a couple of days late and just missed the job. He paused for a second, fluorescent lights ablaze, a cacophony of "doots" from the registers in the background and I got the tragic sense that this man desperately hates his job. Fifty years ago, this man would have been some jolly fellow running a somethin or other store of his own on a city block. Now, he's in middle management at Walmart. It's really heartbreaking when you stop and think about it.

Anyway, I'm having to step up so as not to end up doing meaningless work. I also want to prove to myself that I can push myself and not be a perpetual flake. So far, I'm really happy with how things are going. Tomorrow I have a whole day of programming at a school and I'll be by myself. I think that everyday will be a little challenging, but I also have found that if I don't think about it too much, I don't have time to be scared. That has been the method by which I did every ballsy thing I've ever done in my life, from asking out boys to jumping off a bridge this one time to eating a plate of octopus parts at a Peruvian restaurant. That plate was too big for this particular method to really work. It just took so long to eat that I had lots of time to think about tentacles, and suckers, and baby octopi and mommy octopi and ink squirting out of their butts and oh god I have to stop. But for this job, it's pure gold.

So I guess the dream I had last night is reminding me of a time when I was a major flake. Now that I know I can get things done if i just make an effort, those times have been brought into sharp relief and I sort of mourn them more. Lots of lost opportunities.... But like so many evolutionary moments in my life, I don't think this one could have been rushed or happened a second sooner. I guess I should be thankful for the mercy life has afforded me in teaching me this lesson without me having to work at Walmart (or eat more tentacles) to figure it out.