Thursday, February 1, 2007

I am being haunted...

I will probably end up in therapy one day. (Probably?) There are many questions that I need answered. There are many situations that are slowly resurfacing as I “mature”. (I’ll never mature…I will always poke you in the ass if you bend over in front of me, and I will always laugh at a fart joke. But you know what I mean.)

One of the things that has been bothering me lately is that I feel an overwhelming sense to be original. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a job; maybe it’s because for once the right side of my brain is being stimulated. Maybe it’s because in Orange County, everyone looks the same (they all have the same surgeon). Maybe it’s because of my mother. (Haha…I know she reads this. Gotcha!)

Every idea I have is taken. This morning, I was driving in the car and thinking about what literary masterpiece I should include in my blog this evening. A-ha! I will talk about finding the Virgin Mary in my food. Everyone seems to find her, except me. Then, like some sort of signal, the radio announcer says, “While you’re looking for the Virgin Mary in your soup…” Are you kidding me?

I thought I had an original idea to quilt a card. The Stamp Shack users know that I have been mentioning this off and on. I even posted an attempt (shown below). My conclusion was that I will try this with silks and satin one day. Paper doesn’t “tuft” well. Would you believe that I received my first valentine in the mail today? You guessed it. Quilted. Just like Coco would make. (Thank you, Bigbadmike! It’s awesome!)

‘The Land of Lost Luggage’ was not the first name of this blog. For approximately 12 hours, the blog was entitled, 'The Island of Lost Luggage'. Brilliant, right? No go. I found a freaking book of poetry with the same title.

So, what the deal-e-oh? Nothing is original. If you think you are original, tell me your idea. I will find it in its blissful existance online. What do I make of all this? Nothing. I still feel like I don’t want to be like everyone else.

Pull my finger.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

My husband of many years is 17 years older than I am, and quite wise, I think.

He says, "It's not that you ever get the answers. You just get tired of asking the questions."

I am not quite there yet, but close.