kung fu is difficult.. but it isn't hard..

Dennis, my old manager, used to ask me what I wanted to do during the day when given a list of things that needed to get done. Sometimes the synapses wouldn't fire correctly and I'd take a little too long to answer her. She would ask me at that point if I wanted an easier question. I miss that.

When I answer the phone at work I usually have to take a few moments to make sure the right thing will come out of my mouth. This is about as close as I can come to describing about how tricky it is to tell exactly what I'm doing these days. Sometimes I'm kind of like that guy in that movie who doesn't have any short term memory.. except I don't have "find him and kill him" tattooed on my chest.

Sometimes I like to think I'm good at things that I'm really not. Mostly I find I'm a pretty honest-with-myself type gal. For example I've never once told myself I'm good at tennis, I cannot, no matter how hard I've tried, learn how to play poker, and I would never subject anyone to really having to listen to me sing. Sometimes I think I'm good at things that I'm not, like picking out movies that my sister likes, grocery shopping, and writing e-mails.

For example I sent out a distress-beacon of a one liner a week or two ago that completely backfired. Backfired, sideways fired, up fired, down fired.. fire all over the place.

And still I charge forward.

Sent out another one the other day, in fact.. not as bad, the results, but still lives as evidence of my foolishness.

Though heres the thing:

The person reading the e-mail can really put whatever spin they want on the thing, depending on the mood they're in, what they expect from the situation, or who they know the person writing it to be.

For example the e-mail in question could read:

"Hello. How are you? I noticed it was raining outside, did you get the umbrella I dropped off yesterday? X Smooches!"

Consider it could be an exchange between people who like each other a lot. People concerned for the others state of dryness and comfort. People who would say things like "smooches" to one another.

Now consider it is an exchange between people who can't stand each other- people who would leave an umbrella covered in dog pooh on the others doorstep after the recent passing of their family dog, Smooches.

I'm bad at e-mail. I get it.

My friend Mr. Toast said that e-mail and other forms of electrical communication were so easy because usually when writing them, you are entirely alone. I can appreciate that, the security that comes with that is appealing, for sure. That and for a long time I was filled with a debilitating anxiety when faced with the task of calling certain someones-- e-mail doesn't usually have that effect. These days I simply find myself in a position where I can't get many words in. It's tricky to interrupt an e-mail. Though it is possible to combat the entire thing and just not read it.

That's just not playing fair, says I.

I think sometimes that I may be witnessing what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. This usually only when things are sensitive, which they have been for a few days (weeks?) now.. one thing after another, and I own it just as much as anyone.

Speaking of things I'm bad at, I went grocery shopping today. I remember once, looking down into the basket some years ago and seeing the following items: carrots, peanut butter, jell-o, frozen peas, seaweed and muffin mix.

... I think I might still have the muffin mix.. somewhere..

I just deleted a big long thing about groceries, what I buy mostly, and what I do or do not do at the grocery store. Possibly that I even deleted that small tirade should tell me I have nothing to say and I should go away.. and I probably will..

I had a conversation the other day that completely blew my mind. Like, blew it. All over the place. Like one of those sneezes that renders the blower temporarily useless 'cause they have to run and find a tissue. Blown.