My Life as a Kung Fu Fighter

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

There are certain unwritten rules that one, as a member of society, should obey:
1) when one gossips, bring the conversation to an uncomfortable halt and stare sort-of sideways at whoever walks within hearing distance
2) no farting in public, and if one does so, walk away quickly from the situation
3) apologize insincerely and give a brief explanation after which one says any of the following words: retarded, midget, fat (I'm sorry, I shouldn't even be typing this - I had to actually ask for help in coming up with these words)
4) Identify oneself outside the normal job description, marital/family status, acceptable extracurricular activities

I realized today that I am a self-proclaimer. Too many times do I think to myself, "Man, I'd be freaking AWESOME if I ________."
People aren't really supposed to talk about the image which they hope to project to society. These are the thoughts that, when asked, are consciously hidden away in hopes that no one actually finds out the real reason for which they do things. For example, if one chooses to wear cowboy boots, is this because one is really a cowboy? Or because one wants to be the fashion cowboy boot-wearing art person? Or because one's role model once wore cowboy boots?

This evening, I actually filled-in-the-blank with "was an art film expert." I should be embarrassed rather than boastful of my visions of being the girl who knows everything there is to know about independent films, FIRST. What is wrong with me that I actually admitted that this is my goal? To imagine myself studying and catching-up on what I've missed already and wearing certain clothes to fit the personality that I will portray? But I'm going against all standards in admitting that "I want to be that girl who's cool because she knows about cool stuff that not everyone knows, but only few other cool people."

Friday, May 26, 2006

Last night at work I looked up from my desk and noticed a lady rushing to get outside. She's a person that works in another department who is apparently addicted to smoking. At a rediculous pace, she made her way out the door with her hand clutching the cigarrettes inside her pocket. Nothing could have stopped this woman! Her body said, "Get the HELL out of my way! I have exactly 4.75 minutes left for this smoke break, and dammit, that's exactly what I plan to do!" The second her hand and her smokes emerged from her pocket, it only took three short, slow steps to light up.
Watching the nicotine slow her to a normal pace, I thought of the second grade when I could talk to NO ONE on the bumpy bus ride home because I had to pee so badly. Breaking my concentration or even uncrossing my purple legs (from lack of circulation) would result in a huge mess and much embarrassment. Nothing could have replaced the sense of relief I got from finally sitting on the toilet. aaaahhh.
Work, work, work, and then you can do what brings pleasure. That's the jist of growing up with my parents as followers of the Buddhist faith? Nope - the Heads of Work Ethic in the Schroeder household. Nowadays, I can justify my rewards for working all day and then spending nearly every waking moment working at home. No down-time between the hours of 6:45am and 11:30pm. Go, go, go until I reach the breaking-point of my own body saying, "If you do not stop right this second, you will spontaneously combust into either 1)freak-crying mode, 2)involuntary spasms of some sort, or 3)an overwhelming need to become a minimalist and sleep on a rice mat for the rest of your life."
Instead, I have learned to listen to my body and reward myself with a huge bowl of ice cream. Slowly scoop perfect little round balls of ice cream into the bowl and let it melt just a little. Sit on the couch with the snoring dogs below, and enjoy every single bite. This, to me, is nirvana.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Several of our friends happen to have pets. And several of those friends regard their pets as gods and goddesses. I listen to the stories of how little Chan is kept in line by Lizzy, how Sammy is going through his rebellious teenage years, and how Oskar was taught to take a shot.
I, on the other hand, have a child, who is my own personal fairy princess, complete with the sparkly dust and a wand. And I often think about how kids and pets are SO not on the same level.
But then I catch myself speaking to my dogs the same way I speak with my little girl, molding them into the creatures I think they should become - fun, smart, and not peeing on various pieces of furniture.
So the other day i walk into the house and start talking to my dogs. I find out that Baxter yet again scaled our fence to further explore our front yard. With disappointing eyes, I explain that this is not good - he could get lost or hurt. Then I tell Coco that it's her responsibility as an older sibling to be a good example for her brother.
Later, I think, "This is not how I'm supposed to talk to the dogs! This is how I talk to my daugher. I'm a people-person!"
After re-thinking my natural tendencies to mother both dogs and children alike, I feel that it's important to define the difference between the two: loyalty comes only at the price of how well you treat them physically. Feed, water and exercise them, keep them bug-free, give them a comfy bed. As an added bonus, it's not the words you use as much as the tone of voice you say them in. So I can call my dogs stupid if I say it nicely and pet them at the same time.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Every night this week I've been building the Ikea furniture that we purchased last week. My family all goes to bed at 7:30, so I have a lot of free-time for such ventures as construction. Around 10, my mind begins to warp, yet I persevere, because dammit, I WILL finish this project TONIGHT.
Here's the thought process at 11:
My friend Shirley told me about another company like Ikea, but it's from Norway. Man, what's the name?

I hate building furniture. Why is this piece upside-down?
Norway = Norwegian.
Norwegian furniture design must RULE.

Norwegian furniture. From Norwegia. Furniture from the Nor-ish part of the world.
Nor furniture.

For the love of god, please can I now quit? I don't care if this piece is upside down. One day I will travel to Nor.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Damn the Ants

There are ants in my kitchen and ants in my bathroom. Little black ones that like to scurry up and down the wall to no place in particular. I can't seem to think of any real reason for their presence, except that my home is also particularly inviting to flies, moths, and even the occasional cockroach at the open of spring.
Once, my friend told me that her dad is some sort of expert communicator with animals and bugs and such. When her family had a problem with anthills in the yard, the ants decided to relocate because of the conversation held just the day before.
I refuse to call the bug professional people. They're expensive, and I have a compulsive need to DO IT MYSELF.
So this is my solution until I get actual ant repellant: WILL them to be gone. I summon all of my negative energy and send the ants lots of bad karma. And when that doesn't work (after a frustrating minute or so), I make an announcement in a slightly rebel/latino accent, "For coming into my house, you must now die. Tell your friends." Then they're squished to death.

Wednesday, May 10, 2006

I watched a very important episode of the Amazing Race tonight. The final 3 teams are going to compete next week for a million dollars. I have mixed feelings of excitement and jealousy, because my life-long goal is to be a winner of a large sum of money. Because of the husband and child aspect of my life, it's only fun for me to imagine myself winning, let alone participating in acts such as the lotto or even some sort of illegal operation. So then picture me with a bubble-like cloud coming from my head, daydreaming about actually having the time and energy to do something good with the loot. This is what I came up with.
1) Buying everyone I know a pair of Rainbow sandals, which someone once described as "walking on butter."
2) Paying my way into becoming one of Erykah Badu's backup singers.
3) Doing something lovely for the nations, something Oprah-ish.
Being that I'm motivated to better the world while also maintaining a strict budget, I decided that today is the day I start my blog. Namaste.