Our Integrity Sells For So Little
But it is all we really have. It is the very last inch of us.
But within that inch, we are free.
Today I’m going to talk about inches. And then I’m going to talk about some other things.
My chair at work is kind of stupid. For quite some time now, after sitting in that chair all day, my knees really hurt. After a few months I determined that it couldn’t be the height of the chair that was doing it, because I tried it on every height setting that it had and nothing changed. And I also decided that it wasn’t just the sitting that was doing it. I’ve sat for hours and hours for my whole life. For all of school, it was in those cheap plastic chairs. In fact, I’ve used many a sub-par chair with little consequence. So a few days ago, I sat on my window ledge during lunch hour and stared at the chair and wondered, geez, what is going on with this thing? Then I fiddled. I fiddled with every knob and screw and lever on the dumb thing! I managed to lift the back of it up a few inches so that I can sit farther back on it. When I tested it out, I tell you, it was so much better. So much better! I’ll have to wait a bit to see if it actually has solved the problem, but if it has, then all the knee-anguish was caused by a few inches of space. Or, the lack of it.
So, two inches can make a pretty big difference. Little things can make a big difference.
Like, this week at work, we got window paintings done for Christmas. And the art is pretty good, especially considering he did all the windows in Gemini in just one day. On my window by my door there’s a candy cane and on my huge window there’s a big snowman that I named George. (He looks like a George.) Anyways, it really cheers the place up!
On a completely different subject, last night I was watching this special about marketing to children and how it’s become such a huge industry. I had no idea kids these days had so much control over their parents’ money! (Oh my gosh, I just said the phrase kids these days.) Like, parts of the travel industry are mainly geared towards kids now, and something mental like 3/4 of vacations of American families are decided primarily on what the kids want to do. They showed one place in I think it was Jamaica where they have spas for kids. So these eight year old girls get massages and facials? Honestly!! It’s absurd! You can’t tell me an eight year old is “stressed and needs to unwind!” And no way they need a facial; they’re eight! They have skin like a baby’s arse! Even more horrifying was the club in NYC for “tweens” (8-12 year olds). Club as in “training for nightclub” club. No alcohol or anything, but they have dance competitions and they’re parents aren’t allowed in. To describe it, ok, that doesn’t sound bad but to see it was different. I don’t know. It freaked me out. When I was eight, I rode my bike and played with dolls still. Kids are growing up so much faster these days it seems. And it feels like girls slip into the “skanky” type more easily. I’m not a parent, but I hope I am one day. It makes me want sons and not daughters!
On that note, part of me really wonders which will take authority over the other when it comes down to what gender(s) of kids I’ll end up with if I ever do have kids: The two main forces here are Irony and Revenge. When I was little, I hated wearing dresses and I didn’t let my mom do my hair because I wanted to do it myself. So I guess in some ways she was kind of cut short in the little joys of raising her only daughter (but, kids don’t think that way at that age!) So I figure, things like this aren’t based just on chance.
If Irony wins out, my kids will be girls. And they will be the girliest girls ever. And they will beg me to French braid ribbons into their hair every morning and they will ask me to make crumpets for their tea parties. They’ll take up horseback riding and have sleepovers and do nails and buy make-up at age seven.
If Revenge comes out on top, my kids will be boys. And they will be stereotypical ‘oh, BOYS!’ boys. They’ll be into every sport imaginable; they’ll have grass stains on all their pants. They’ll pick up bad words from their friends and they’ll have burp wars at the table and they’ll try to skateboard off the roof and onto the trampoline and guffaw when one of them misses the trampoline and breaks his clavicle. It’ll go on like this until I adopt a cat – a female one – with long hair that I can braid and complain about boys with…
Honestly, mark my words.
Randomly:
Colette: Guns of Northwatch is intense. Okay! Onto the next! Captain… Fairmount.
Mike: Woah! Captain Fairmount is a woman? This really is a fantasy game!
Colette: …!
Mike: Kidding!
