Age ain't nothing but a number

I’ve never danced with a 90 year-old man, but I did last night.  We did the twist.  He moved around better than most 60 year olds.  

I asked him for his secret to living to be 90.  I never got a straight answer from him though.  This guy was genuine Zen.  He never turned the TV on or whined or complained.  When people walked into his room his face would light up and he’d smile.  I’m pretty sure he even smiled in his sleep. 

How the hell did this man get to be so happy?  It wasn’t an eccentric fake happiness but the content with life kind of happiness.  I want that.  I’d like it now please.  But I’m guessing that kind of Zen only comes with several decades under your belt.  

Perhaps I should start my journey to happiness right now.  Instead of thinking of each passing year as just an increase in age, maybe I could see it as one step closer to my kind of happy.  Maybe I’ll try that as 2012 approaches.  Maybe.

Today I Learned

TIL
- I’m probably nocturnal.  I had way too much fun and clarity working the night shift last night into this morning.

- Oompa Loompas are just little people with liver failure.  Not only do people with advanced liver failure glow orange but all their excretions are orange (or neon yellow) and they smell like the fake butter they put on your popcorn at the movie theater. 

- My gag reflex does have its limits: orange liver failure patient and butternut squash for dinner DO NOT MIX!

-In my new town, when an older woman rings your doorbell and asks to “use an outside electrical outlet to recharge your elderly neighbors’ powered wheel chair to take to him in the nursing home,” it really means she wants to use the electrical outlet, not rape, rob or murder you.  Although, if the latter were the case, I was prepared, I had my sword on me.  Turns out to be a sad story, the guy next door is dying and he’s been gone from home so long that the electricity has been shut off.  I also think I saw some squirrels casing the joint.  I guess we could do worse for neighbors (the squirrels, not the dying guy, oh that sounds bad, you know what I mean).

I know it's early but I'm all set with learning for the day.

I DID IT!

Did you feel that?  A slow steady breeze that made your hair stand on end but put you at ease at the same time?   That was me sighing.  Months of hard work, dedication, fatigue and fear were all carried away on that breath.  I passed my state’s nursing exam and am officially an RN.  I cannot stop smiling even as I sit here typing.  I don’t know exactly how to verbalize what I’m feeling right now.  I could say something about feeling like a million bucks or like I have an armful of puppies…None of it would get to the heart of the matter.  All I can say is thank you for thinking positive and for your encouragement.   

Foot-In-Mouth

Ever have a bad case of foot-in-mouth disease?  I know some of you are afflicted with the issue on a regular basis.  Well, the other day I was on the other end of the situation: I got foot-in-mouth shat on by a coworker.  I almost don’t want to share what was said…but I will.  During some down time at work I decided to seek advice for a Halloween costume (for a certain ghoulish wedding coming up).  I was presented with some pretty lame ideas but the worse was when someone said “Oh, you should go as Whoopi Goldberg, you look just like her.”  To which I snapped my head around and said “[Expletive] you!”  It was the first time I ever spoke like that at my new job.  Ah, who am I kidding, it wasn’t the first time.  Still, I think I startled the girl because she tried to backtrack with “I mean when she was in Sister Act with her hair down.”  Another expletive was about to drip from my tongue but instead I kindly told her that I was no longer entertaining suggestions from her.  So, as a lesson to us all, when making new friends and acquaintances, try thinking before speaking.  Consider the rule about not asking a woman about her due date until you’ve confirmed actual conception.  Now add to it don’t tell someone they look like another individual who is unattractive and has no eyebrows. 

I’m just sayin’. 

Tweet Me

I'm on twitter now!  (whyiamhme) Seems like so long ago that I was satisfied with just a phone call or an email.  Now I'm blogging and tweeting, which sounds like a euphemism for something dirty.  But I understand it's how all the cool kids talk these days.  As for Facebook, I'm still a no, just can't bring myself to do it.  I think I've put myself out there enough for 2011.  I will probably write an actual book before I join Facebook.  Sorry to hate.

Have a great day!  Oh, and follow me so we can tweet!

Flash mob, anyone?

No, this is not a political statement, rather an expression of absolute funkness.  I’ve been watching Laurieann Gibson’s Born to Dance (don’t judge) and feeling out the steps to Lady Gaga’s Poker Face routine.  I know the song is sooo 2008 but you have to admit it’s pretty catchy, clever and the dance routine is HOT.  Give me a few more weeks and I will have it down and you will be amazed.  All I ask is that you join me and make a flash mob of it.  Come on, it won’t be hard; we can modify it if need be kind of like they do for those group exercise classes.  It’ll be fun…pu-leeeze!!!!

Theatre

There was a time when going to the theatre used to mean something to me.  It was inspiring and uplifting…I felt changed after being there.  All the creativity and work to bring a story to life made me feel alive as well.  I remember watching Hedwig and the Angry Inch (with Anthony Rapp) and I was in such awe.  I was right there with him the entire way lifting up my hands during Midnight Radio. When I saw Orpheus Descending with Helen Mirren and Stuart Townsend (3 times!), I knew I was in the presence of mastery.  It also made me see Tennessee Williams in a different way.  There are so many other theatrical performances that have enriched my life by providing me with much more substance than I had when I first arrived.  That being said, it’s been a while since I last felt this way.  I kind of turned away from it all.  In fact, I was dreading going to see The Crucible earlier this week for fear of it being a waste of time.  In my mind I was prepared for a drab stage with pale figures drawing out their lines to milk every single dramatic effect that the play called for.  Yes, shame on me.  Fortunately the show was exactly what theatre is supposed to be: transformative.  Sure there were some kinks in the works being opening night and all but by the middle of the first act I was hooked; I stopped expecting something and just experienced what was laid before me.  When the events unraveled in the final act I was on the edge of my seat, stomach in knots and goose bumps all over.  What an unfortunate mess – Salem, not the show.  And what a political statement to make: provocative for sure and isn’t that what theatre is for?  I got so much out of the show that I felt guilty for having arrived with such bleak expectations.  Theatre, I apologize for underestimating you.  And thank you to the cast and crew of The Crucible for bringing me back like a prodigal daughter.  

If you are in the area, go see the show and you’ll understand what I’m talking about.