About me: I'm 42 and added another gherkin to our pickle party of a family. My husband Chuck, our 9-year-old Junior, our 6-year-old Everett, our toddler and I live in a town in Connecticut I affectionately call Mulletville Lite (aka my childhood hometown). My friends call me Nutjob, and they're right. In my husband's spare time he dresses up as a Viking and chases ghosts (and I'm the nutjob?). When I'm not busy working as a graphic designer, I lie in a ball in the corner.
Monday, November 23, 2009
She who sees grasshopper on turkey's head should find new forest
I'm grouchy. I know that Thanksgiving is a time to enjoy our families and all that jazz, but between Chuck's divorced and remarried parents and my divorced and remarried parents, I always end up with that nagging feeling that we've left someone outside.
Oops, I mean out. I'd never leave a cherished relative out on the stoop.
And I know it's only November 23 but I'm already tired of people trying to sell me things. All we hear lately is "Buy now!" and "Get to the store now!" Even worse, I've ended up on a new-agey mailing list. I’m not sure what purchase invited this travesty, but suddenly I am getting catalogs for organic lemur sperm and sustainable salmon headbands that make you look 10 years younger—and I’m sick of it.
I’m all for the spiritually-enlightened-meets-“green” slant, especially if it means one more person recycles or meditates by a tree instead of chopping it down, but I don’t want to buy a piece of it. I’m broke. And the messages are so corny. Like the letter I got today from a local spa. Can I share it with you?
Spa lady begins:
“It was a splendid Indian Summer week...there was a convivial atmosphere...a fresh palette was in the air.”
Yaaaaaaaaaawn. Two days of sixty degree weather does not change the fact that the trees are scraggly, gray-black premonitions of winter’s decimation.
“...in the autumnal season the most notable thing that is changing is change itself. Change happens...what may be harder to see is that the manner in which change occurs is in itself changing. Today change happens in giant leaps and bounds whereas before change took little hops.”
Huh? What kind of mind bender is that? Change is changing but not in the way it used to? How does she know how change operates in my life? My husband has been out of work for an entire year. I still live in Mulletville and work for a bunch of wackos. Not only is change taking minute hops, it’s hopping in the wrong fucking direction.
“...leaves had dried up into little origami balls...the light was playing with their round shapes. When I bent down...the little grasshopper jumped into the scene...What are the chances...?”
Probably pretty good, seeing as we haven’t really had a frost yet.
“What this scene...depicts...is that the thing that is changing, the experience, is something to be thankful for and not forgotten. The enjoyable present moment is in the cusp of change, the moment where you see the past and have a glimpse of the future...Enjoy the moment...”
Blah, blah, blah. Stop projecting your crazy ass grasshopper metaphor on me! Getting a facial at your spa is not going to transform my life. How did I get on your mailing list? Did Stop and Shop sell you my name because I bought non-flouride toothpaste? Or gawd, maybe it was the hemp and flax post.
The experience of change and deriving meaning is great and all, but sometimes a grasshopper is just a grasshopper. What if those queer little origami balls are just, as she noted, dried up leaves? You just wasted twenty minutes assigning meaning to an insect and a wad of organic matter when instead you could have been...
...you know, enjoying the moment.
We all can.