Wednesday, September 19, 2007

All Nighter

I have to apologize for how little I've been writing. I mean, I have been writing. But, to be truthfully honest, yes, I am shafting you. I am half-assing my abilities in this small area of webpage because I like to believe that I am:

A) Too busy.
B) Not creative enough.
C) Too busy.
D) Experiencing life.
E) Too busy.
F) Dedicated to homework.
G) Too busy.

I could probably list things all day without repeating myself in the least, but, for some reason, my finger keeps pointing back to letter 'F'. And also the idea of having to repeat myself multiple times.

What is it about repeating a story that turns me off? Yet I continue to do so? It's not rare to hear something twice, especially growing up.

Clean the room, wash the dishes, mow the lawn, pick up [said item], let the dogs in, etc, etc, etc...

Specifically, I can remember myself playing video games in the basement of my old home, hearing my mother call to me to vacuum the staircase. As I indulged in myself (something I quite often do), she would call perhaps up to three times before finally getting to that questioning point of "Is she even in the house?" She'd go to my bedroom, calling a questioning, "Mallory?" Perhaps go upstairs to see if I'd fallen asleep on the couch. Then she'd get to the basement, but, rather than go all the way down, she'd lean a little to listen. Promptly, I'd pause my game, maybe even turn off the television so she couldn't see any light (good game play proved itself in the darkness, when one couldn't look to see what buttons were being pressed... a Star Wars blindfolded move, if you will), then slow my breathing to nothing, huddled in my blanket (basements were always colder, and ours was no different), wondering with tense muscles for the verdict. Would she go down those few extra steps and find me? Or would she go by senses and give up for a few more minutes, allowing me to complete a level, start another and then explain to her later, when she did find me glued to our old television, that I had to finish that level before I would be able to save. It was usually a fifty-fifty chance, depending on how badly she wanted the job to be done. I particularly remember one time when I heard her vacuuming the stairs herself, and I felt so guilty and shamed that I went up to correct the situation--my parents had enough to do.

All of this was done to just get in ten more minutes of "me" time. To play something that isn't reality. To this day, I still unknowingly ignore people as my surroundings blur, ears focused on the speakers, mind numb to anything but the press of a button (now flick of a wrist, thanks to the Wii).

I always wonder if it's worth it, but it must be. I still procrastinate homework to see a movie, talk with a friend, write in a blog. Nothing has really changed. Except that I'm considered an "adult" (more official come March), and that I should "know better."

My parents weren't bad parents. In fact, I have to say I have been spoiled with the right spoilings, told about all of my wrongs and to this day have a great relationship where I can tell them anything, joke around and even know they support me through anything. So what condemns me to this need of everything but?

I make lists. A lot of lists. I write them everywhere, pin them everywhere, make sure that no matter where I go, I'll be able to glance at them to remind me of the urgency. But even then, I'll sometimes push things to the edge. And if they get pushed over, I somehow always managed to grapple at it and pull it back up, no matter how far it fell. Sometimes, I bungee jump all the way down and clutch it in my hands about an inch from the ground. It's only smashed a few times, and those weren't good, but it obviously hasn't been enough motivation to stop me.

Repetition. Always goes round and round and round.

The oldest story in the book is "the joke." It's so funny, it must be told to everyone. Even the same person, if need be, over five times. Few reactions to this one. Interruption (yeah, you've said that), saying the ending with them (They were wearing the same pants!) or just making it seem as if they'd never told them before. What's the use of it? To interrupt is to be rude, no matter how you phrase it; even politely makes the other feel stupid. Saying the ending with them really encourages them to retell the story over and over (I have experience of watching this one happen constantly). And having it seem as if it's never been told not only gets harder, but then also makes the person think, "Man, I've never told this one half as often as I thought!"

Ah, but when is anything not rude or repeated? History, books, music, art... How wonderful it must have been to live in the days when nothing had been invented, the whole world of literature and life a blank canvas. To invent a thing such as sliced bread.

Our generation is repetition. All of the nineteen hundreds seem to be coming back full throttle, from every culture. It's amazing how we can call these styles "new."

But then, when you really think about it, children are repetitious as well. It's a long shot, but each child has something from each side of the family--repeating looks, health, nature...

It's all inevitable. Precautions don't even always work (as accidental births have proven, as well as firewalls for internet or covers on a trashcan). It'll repeat, sooner or later. Parallels are drawn between lives ("I went through that as a child"), and yet I see the competition as well as the repetition.

The reason the person says the joke so many times is because they want to be known that they were the ones that were originally funny, not someone else, whom may not give the correct credit.

Who did it first? Who went along with it first?

Why else would Facebook or Myspace or any other type of lame internet connection be so popular? (Don't worry, I have a Myspace, and this blog). To be quite honest, I have not gone through a day that hasn't held the word "Facebook" in it. How pathetic is that?

And don't even get me going on text messaging. I just received an assignment in which we look at the ideas of a hired communication group; one of the ideas is to use text messaging in place of pamphlets. Teachers are "with the times" as they tell us they hope their phone doesn't ring during class (yet make no movements to silence them).

Ringtones to show the awesomeness of our tastes, T-shirts that have every single saying in the world so we don't have to explain a small part of us that is hilarious or serious or angry or happy or stupid...

Which just leads into expectations. Or maybe even aspect-tations (not a word, but could be used here).

It comes down to the importance we place on things. People say the stories over again to make sure for credit or like the feeling of telling the story. People use Facebook or Myspace to show their knowledge or pretend their popular or just keep in touch. And I procrastinate on my homework because I believe their is more to life than proving my knowledge, such as enjoying what I've got in the small amount of time I have.

Excuses, excuses.

Random Fact: The fingerprints of koala bears are virtually indistinguishable from those of humans, so much so that they could be confused at a crime scene.

1 comment:

Keal said...

omg you bitch. you lied straight to mom's face about vaccuming and I had to do it half the time probably.