Lorraine Says: Air is Everywhere

You know how they call corn on the cob "corn on the cob", right? But that's how it comes out of the ground, man. They should call that "corn." They should call every other version "corn off the cob." It's not like if you cut off my arm, you would call my arm "Mitch"; but then reattach it and call it "Mitch all together."

I had a high school teacher who was pretty much obsessed with Mitch Hedberg, and would quote this joke all the time. Really, it hasn’t much to do with anything except 1.) Teehee! and B.) I’ve told a few people how much I want “Lorraine all together” and every time it reminds me of this.

Oh hold you freakin’ mice (mouses, in this case? Uh?). I’m not gonna get all whiny on you. Keep reading.

I started school again recently. Sitting in an Organic Chem II lab really opens your eyes to some things. Or really, it closes your eyes and opens your mind. Haha, get it? Crap. I still have residual dullness from the lab. That’s a scientifical theory, I’m sure.

Anyways, in lab I was not paying attention, and instead reflecting on all the things I need to do. Not the things I want; not vacations or trips or clothes or underwater basket weaving or marrying a millionaire with a pony and a chocolate factory. I’m talking the things that I NEED to do.

Thinking about it made my head hurt a little, and actually made listening to the lab-lecture appealing by comparison. I woke up this morning with the burden of that, plus a fight with my mother weighing down on my eyes. Seriously, when I get stressed, I feel it all in my eyes. I BBM’ed Rox about my emo-tendancy, and she listened to me blah, rejoiced at the fact that she was off and free of emo, and then disappeared to watch “Seven Pounds.”

Sigh.

It seems the only one who can do anything about Lorraine All Together is Lorraine. As Magpie put it, “I want to help but I don’t even know what’s wrong.” And in my head, I’m thinking, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!? Can’t you see that the thing… is like off… and obviously stuff… is everywhere… and air… is everywhere…and YOU DON’T HAVE A PONY.” Aren’t my problems so clear to all?

Yeah. No. Apparently not.

So! The point I was making was that I need to live by a certain realization that I had recently, that came in two parts.

1. Never growing old doesn’t mean never growing up: Well, I know physically I can’t stop the hands of time. Not that it’s a big deal to me. I’m 23 and get carded for rated-R movies. I guess it doesn’t help that I’m five-foot and an errant hair. But besides that, I think there’s a different between maturing and growing old. Sort of. Here’s the thing: Penny, Rox and I spent last Sunday playing on a playground made for 2-year-olds and having a blast. Sure it was the coldest night in south Florida in like 30 years and we were at the beach, but we laughed until we were numb in the face (and toes, and fingers. Brrr.) I never want to lose that. I never want to lose that sense of adventure and mayhem. I always want to know how to play and giggle. Life isn’t worth much to me if I can’t.
   
   On the flip side, I can’t never grow up. I’m 23, and I’m wandering the desert when it comes to school, I have no clue what it is that I want out of life and more often than not, I don’t make great decisions. Would that I could freeze everything, and have my biggest worry be which mall Rox and I should visit, but maybe realizing that life isn’t conducive to that will help put me in a less dilapidated place.
   
   
2. Moderation is not the same as half-assedness: Moderation is the anti-Lorraine. I have a sick habit of taking my fill of something I like, getting tired of it, throwing it to the side and moving onto a next obsession. It’s true for food, people, music, hobbies, clothing, everything. I don’t know how to temper myself, to make the good things last and some part of me always equates moderation with being half-assed. It isn’t the same isn’t? For example, the gym. If say I want to start going back to the gym, I’m gonna be there 5-6 days a week. I’m gonna work out like a maniac. I’m going to breathe the gym until I get so sick of it, that I disappear for a month. 3 days a week is somehow not a choice because that feels like going halfway in. Maybe that's dumb, but as I’ve said, self-diagnosing is not the problem. Obviously I know Lorraine is in pieces, but how does she get her self all together?

That’s the challenge. Moderation with a splash of balls-to-the-wall-ness. Maturing with a peppering of fun-lovingness. It may seem a little ideal, but I can’t keep living with this constant up and down. There’s no consistency in my life. I by no means want boring. I welcome spontaneity! Let’s spin on a giant button on a playground on an empty beach until we want to puke! I’m all for it. But there has to be some feeling of day to day accomplishment, I think.

I’m ready to do it. I’m ready to go to school, I’m ready to go to church, I’m ready to spend time with my family, with my friends. I want to blog. I want to work on my creative writing. I want to sleep, oh God, I want to sleep. I want to gym and get healthy. I want to bum on Rox’s couch and eat chocolates. I want to get dressed and go out. I want to play UNO! with the girls and shout obscenities when someone plays a draw 4.

Somehow I’m realizing that I’ll be able to do it all, just not all today. And not one thing in large doses.

Each little piece, one by one, here comes Lorraine, all together again.

And oh, look, she's eating cookies.

&lor