Cold Ketchup & Toilet Seats

5-26-10                 1:41am

So I’ve been wondering for probably a week now just why we keep ketchup in the fridge. Maybe it’s just in my house, but we keep all our condiments in the fridge. Even those ones that need no refrigeration. And while I’m fine with most things being cold, ketchup is not one of them. When I eat a hot dog, I’d like to actually taste the hot dog and not be thrown off by cold ketchup. Yes, I eat ketchup on hot dogs. Get over it. I also don’t like cold hot sauce. It’s just wrong. It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t taste the sauce. I just taste the cold. And I can’t even taste what I’m putting it on. I guess if I’m trying not to taste the food that’s good, but I generally like to taste what I eat.

I’ve also been wondering about toilet seats and the battle to get guys to put them down. Just why are they lifted in the first place? That’s a pretty big hole to be aiming at. I imagine it’s kind of like crayons or target practice. You start with a big target and eventually, as you get better, the target or the crayon gets smaller. But it doesn’t seem to work this way for toilet seats. Why? Why can a man who has been peeing for say 15 years or so not get that tiny stream of pee into that big hole? I can’t imagine how tall a guy would have to be to have a stream of pee so large it couldn’t be reasonably directed into the hole of a standard toilet seat. What’s the deal? Really. I can see lifting the lid to vomit. When you’re sick or drunk what comes out of your mouth can be unpredictable. But not pee. What’s the deal? Really.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010

Comparison & The All-Perfect Person

5-11-10                 2:46am

I don’t compare myself to other people a lot. Or at least I don’t consider it comparison. But I observe almost everything. And I think. A lot. I remember when I was younger saying, “I think, hope and love too much.” I think I still do. But I find myself processing my observations and wondering what they mean about me.

I was supposed to be going to New York in two weeks to sing at Carnegie Hall. At first announcement it would be covered by grants. As time went by it would not and I have no money. I hate hearing about this trip to New York because I will not be going. I don’t want to know. Just don’t tell me. And please quit asking if I’m going. Another friend is going next week. Another is there now. I don’t understand. I get the logic. No money, no trip. But I don’t get the reason behind no money. Why life is what it is, why I’m here. A distant friend died last week and in the email I got it said he fulfilled his dream of singing at Carnegie Hall last year. I almost screamed. WTF!

I look at the lives of the friends I grew up with, what they’re doing. Some of them have totally bombed but most of the people I was close to in dance and theater are still in dance and theater. The musicians are musicians. They’re doing what they love. But I’m not. I guess you could call that comparison, but I don’t want to be like them. I just want to be doing what I love.

I don’t know how I got here or why. I didn’t wake up one day and choose this. But I can’t change it. And it’s dangerous to try. I’m know on a journey towards something. I just don’t know what.

There are people who are very special to me whom I barely know and try very hard not to freak out with my interest. It’s not socially acceptable to be completely intrigued by someone and communicate it. The words that come to mind are obsessed and stalker. But I’m not a stalker. It’s a way of life. It works like this.

At any given time, I need to have at least one all-perfect person. I know this person is not really perfect, but to me they’re pretty close. I find them interesting. They make me think. There is just something about them that is special. And they like me back. I hang out around this person. Not usually with them. I try not to bother them too much. But I help them as best I can and they help me back, sometimes. Just knowing I have this person in my life makes me feel safe. Being near them helps me feel calm. I need this person, would do anything for them. It’s not romantic. They’re usually like a mentor or teacher or counselor type person. Sometimes just someone I look up to. Everything revolves around them. But like I said, they’re not really perfect. And eventually something happens. They make me angry or I make them angry and they die or leave or move and I lose them and my whole world falls apart. And I have nothing until I find another.

It’s a twisted system, I know. I’m really trying to make it different. But I did not have a cloth monkey. I don’t understand how it’s supposed to work. That cloth monkey study is something I think about often. There is such a need…

I’m constantly scared of losing people. People I don’t really have. I need them. I need the fantasy. I really just need.

© Michelle Routhieaux 2010