Cougerine

I had a very interesting moment of identity crisis today: my alma maters played each other in football.

You may be thinking the crisis formed around which team to cheer for. It didn't.

Nor was the crisis that the team I opted to support lost in a big bad ugly way. A) this wasn't all that surprising, B) I'm not really into all the hype about athletics, and C) while I am grateful for the experiences I had at both institutions, I just don't do the school loyalty thing to that extent.

The crisis (which wasn't that critical, really) boiled down to attire. I had this overwhelming urge to wear gear from each school every time I left the house. I didn't, I just wore gear for the one, but I really wanted to wear both.

But it wasn't just about fashion. And I could have worn both--the colors overlap. The identity crisis centered around why I wanted to wear both. I think there were multiple reasons. One, to show the world (and myself) that I am not the stereotype of who you find here. Also, to remind myself of who I am and the things I value. I think in some way it was also an assertion that I exist. In a city of over a million people, you just become a face. I don't have any connections here, no group of friends to hang out with or anything. And somehow, wearing a shirt with a school logo was a small way of asserting my presence. Finally, I think I wanted to wear them to rebel against being here and as a way of reminding myself of who I want to be, and where I want to be. All in all, a minor act of defiance.

So what started out as just being able to show affiliation ended up making me feel a little lost. Maybe it was fortunate that Grad stomped all over Undergrad. Just the thing to snap a person out of meta-thinking.

Life is not like [fill in sport of choice here]

The other day at work the thought hit me that I really needed a break from life. And, in trying to find the right way to describe it, I opted for the good old sports analogy: I needed a substitution. Just a chance to sit on the bench and rest for awhile.

Which got me thinking about how life really isn't like sports. Which is not to say there is no commonality at all--I just used the sports metaphor*, so clearly I'm not totally opposed. I'm just saying there are limits. So, here you have it: All the ways life is not like sports at all.

1) There are no substitutions. This, I feel, is a bit of an oversight.

2) There is no half time. Again, oversight.

3) No fans watching me play. This is not an oversight. This is a relief. Thank you, Universe.

4) Pretty sure that even if it is like sports, we're pretty much all playing a different game. And even when we're playing the same game as someone else, we're following different sets of rules. Very problematic. No wonder there's so much chaos. And somehow, I really like envisioning life this way, a bunch of people all playing different sports. So much potential for humor and entertainment! (Susie the tennis player going up against Johnny the rower. What kind of mash-up do you get from that?) It's so descriptive. I just really like this idea.

5) Did I get a warm-up?

6) The events do the equivalent of Chinese Fire Drills. One second, I've got one group of players. Then, all of a sudden, different team, different sport, different rules. Is it even a team sport? How do I score things? I'm so confused!**

7) I'm not so sure we make the team we're best suited for. Hypothetically (and it must by hypothetical because I have no aptitude for athletics), let's say I'm a great swimmer. But rather than put me on the swim team, Life has decided I should be on the curling team. Complete mismatch.

8) A lack of trophies. Or medals. I think I'm pretty okay with this. But I don't think more medals and trophies (when merited) could hurt.

So, the really important thing that we've learned here is that you should never take a metaphor*** too far. Got it? Great. How about a team cheer?

*what is the distinction between metaphor and analogy? For the purposes of this post, let's assume they are interchangeable. Just for fun.
** To quote my high school calculus teacher.
***Or analogy. Whichever. 

In concert, playing at the grey Chrysler 300?

I currently rent a lot of cars. Once a month, for the last couple of years. And, yes, it is true: one of the perks of driving rentals is you get to test out a variety of vehicles. With the added bonus of not having pressure from a salesman. You find out what you like and what you don't like. For example, I never thought I cared about car color, but discovered there is a dark blue that I really love. Also, I love crossovers. Never would have even considered one. And I'm not a fan of push start cars (too easy for me to forget to take the fob with me when exiting the car).

You also learn all the weird design things auto makers do to try to be novel. The Dodge Charger was one of the worst. For some reason they decided to put the switch to open the gas tank at the bottom of the driver side door. Took me forever to find it. (Why not look in the manual, you ask? The manual was on a CD. Fail. Total fail.) I've already mentioned the Prius. This weekend, the new odd feature was in a Chrysler 300, which had a dial gear shift, instead of a 'lever'.

It's less confusing than the Joystick option and I admit, it does free up some space. But, I think I'm just old fashioned. I like the good old stick.
















I also got a chuckle at the clock in the car. I think what was so funny about it is, you have this posh car, with all this new tech--touch screen for radio and media, digital screen for fuel information, etc. (as well as a digital clock), and then in the middle of the dashboard, you have this lovely analog clock. Or, at least analog looking clock. The car had California plates, and the digital clock was wrong. The 'analog' one was correct, though. Anyway, it just seemed a little ironic, is all.

However, the features of the car aren't really what I was going to write about. I actually wanted to talk about singing. What, you ask, does singing have to do with cars? Well, I find that the car is my favorite place to sing.

Maybe it's because I live in an apartment, so I can't in good conscience blast the radio and sing at the top of my lungs.* (I could in bad conscience. But I try to keep bad conscience out of the picture). Maybe it's because the acoustics are so great. Or maybe it's the combined exhilaration of music and driving. I don't know. All I know is, I really like listening to music and singing while I drive.

I'm not really a good singer. I can stay in key and stuff, but that's about it. So that may be another reason I like singing in the car. No one else can hear me, I'm my own audience, and I can get the volume to a point where I almost drown myself out. (I may be prematurely deaf, however).

Anyway, it is just a really joyful, pleasant experience to sing and drive and lose myself in that little world.

*It occurred to me yesterday that I've greatly underestimated this particular perk of home ownership. 

Bucket List suggestions

If you are looking for things to add to your bucket list, experiences that one should be sure to have before they die, here's one for you: Take a little kid to a Lego Store.

I was lucky enough to go to the Lego Store with my sister-in-law and my nephews, #s 12, 18, and 22. Twenty-two is only interested in Legos inasmuch as they serve as teething toys, but the other two, age 3 and 6, are very into them. When we pulled up in the parking lot to the mall, the 6-year old already had a grin that I think is best described as "ear to ear". And it managed to get bigger when he saw the sign for the Lego store. By this point the excitement had spread to his entire body. He had a grin in his walk! The look on his face when we walked in the store was priceless. There is a kind of joy that is an actual force beyond the person who is happy. This was that kind of joy. So powerful that if enough of it was unleashed upon the world, I think it could achieve world peace.

The 3-year old was also in awe, although his was more verbal. While his brother was into the Lego sets, I think he just had fun being able to play with the toys. He helped me fill up a cup-of-Legos (or whatever they are called) and delighted in providing me with a wide selection of colors. He was less concerned about the actual type of brick.

It was a delightful experience, one that sets a new standard for what it means to be happy. And if you haven't experienced it, you are totally missing out.

A Life of Anonymity

I know a lot of people are really big on putting everything about themselves out where the world can see it. I'm not one of those people. I am pretty much the opposite and try to live my life off the radar. Always have. I think one of the main reasons I stayed out of trouble at school is because I didn't want to go to the principal's office. Never wanted to have run-ins with the authority figures in my life, so I behaved. It's worked well for me. 

Anyway, new job, new responsibilities, and all of a sudden I have my name and quotes in a press release that has a huge audience. In the millions, possibly. At any rate, much larger than the handful that read this or anything I ever wrote at my last job. And even though so far, it's only quotes in articles written by other people, it's my work being promoted, and another article that I actually wrote is coming out, and I expected it would require way more editing than anyone has done. 

I have never really been into the fame part of fame and fortune (I could go for the fortune part, though) but it's always been theoretical in the past. Now, I can definitely say, I don't like fame. And I don't even have it. I don't even like the prospect of fame. A little special attention from the people I know and love, that's usually more than enough. 

So, whatever you do, don't dig up my name on the net. Thank you.