Monthly Archives: February 2014

Locals

I work in a restaurant to support my writing habit. Often, a night there is no different than if you visited an Applebee’s or Olive Garden. On Friday nights, however, you begin to understand small this big town is. One couple leaves their table to chat with another. As a server, you’re lightly grasped by the elbow so a woman in a cable-knit sweater can point out a group and ask to pay for their next round. (This often ends up a game of catch as each table volleys free rounds for the other.) The cook’s aunt and uncle come in and the owner of the movie theater next door shares an appetizer with them.
While I find this camaraderie and hometown appeal nice, I also shudder at it.
How must it be to never be a stranger in your town? Who wants to drive away from home in order to enjoy a bit of piece and anonymity? The bar we visit on Burger Night Thursday is chock full of these locals, happy to visit each other, discuss local news and weather, and who generally insert, “did you hear so-and-so died?” into their random conversation.
Maybe I’m not old enough to be a local. Maybe the solitary act of writing filters itself through social interaction. The act of small talk is an art. Maybe I’ve written too deep to be shallow.

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Shortages

There is a salt shortage in Northwestern Wisconsin and Minnesota. Right now, most roads give the feeling of riding on a pockmarked dirt road. Only slippery. It makes me think that now is the time use some of that short supply of salt to avoid more mornings featuring no less than three cars in ditches, through guard rails, or mounted in the center lane of the highway like a town monument.

Why are we so obsessed with saving small amounts of things rather than using them when we need them so badly? (Exceptions: money for retirement, college funds, canned food for the zombie apocalypse)

Here is a list of my personal shortages that even my pack rat personality can’t seem to amend:
Poetic Confidence
Good Karma ( I keep spending it!)
Time to read
Rejuvenating nap time
Motivation to clean the house in the June Cleaver way I always meant to
Creativity beyond writing (I couldn’t make a decent scrapbook if you locked me in a Michaels store for three days straight)
Physical strength
Patience
Faith

I don’t begrudge myself the things I lack. I spend what little I have. I don’t stockpile for emergencies. I grew up poor. When you had extra, you enjoyed it, reveled in it. Take that, City Transportation Department!

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This blog shall be a blog.

I am the queen of starting blogs and not finishing/keeping up with them. These have ranged from personal life blogs to an anonymous sex/dating column. I always have the best of intentions, but seem to run out of things to say. Or, at the least, I think I have nothing worth saying. Then again, there’s some feed somewhere that’s nothing but pictures of Lindsay Lohan with her hands deleted. (Lindsay NoHands, get it?)

I am therefore more determined than ever to maintain a somewhat regular presence and post things/thoughts that are at least a modicum of interesting and/or relevant. If you have any inspirations for me, tweet or Facebook me. Or just leave a comment.

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