I'm going bananas

An interesting explanation to the song Hollaback Girl.

Wow, it makes so much more sense now!

Pictures of you

Earlier this week, I was talking to biscuit head about her recent travels and looked at pics from her trip. She had a lot of great shots, but one that I particularly liked was a shot of a shady chair on a deck with a cup of coffee and an open book beside it. This, my friends, is a picture that didn't need her in it to let you know who it was.

It got me to thinking, which is always hazardous.

Wouldn't it be kind of fun to come up with a series of pictures that represent someone without necessarily having them in a single one? I suspect this isn't a terribly original idea. Doesn't make it any less cool, though.

When the heart of the world speaks

Over the last 3 weeks or so, I have noticed something while driving about the DFW area. About every other day, I'll witness a hawk strike.

Birds of prey are nothing new around here. We have, of course, the red tails who tend to hang out on light fixtures along the highways. There's the occasional Swainson's doing the same. A bit more in the country, you'll run across the kestrels. And there's always a good chance of spotting a kite floating high up in the sky.

However, what I don't generally see with frequency is the swoop and dive of the hunter, followed by it's flight back to a perch bearing an unwilling passenger. I'd seen it once or twice over the last several years in real life, one of those times being an unsettling one in my parent's backyard where I was idly watering some ferns and had a red tail crash into the bush 2 feet beside me and start eating a mouse.

So the sheer numbers is kind of odd. Odd enough that I wonder if it's some kind of sign, and if it is, what does it mean? I tend to view it from the hawk's point of view, so perhaps I'm being told to seize an opportunity? Or maybe I should be taking it as a warning that caution is required if you want to avoid the sudden unexpected atrocities of the world. Perhaps both?

Or maybe there are just a lot more rats and birds out this year.

"It's safe in my pornographic memory."

An actual quote from a patient today.

Sometimes, it's better just to laugh and walk away.

Walking a fine line

Specialization is interesting, be it in creatures or creations. For instance, think of what cars started as: little more than a carriage with a motor replacing the horses. Now look around you: sport cars, SUVs, semis, micromobiles. More and more you see the crossover vehicles. Whether it's a super engined station wagon, a mini-SUV, or a midget car with 4 wheel drive, these are vehicles created to try to appease multiple cravings in the human consumer. Want massive size and yet not eat through a gallon of gas backing out of the driveway? There are hybrid SUVs out there to help you. Want a people mover that revs like a ferrari? They exist. The problem is, these mixtures never fully excel in all the roles they are asked to fill. But damn if they don't try, and some do a pretty good job.

I feel like a crossover car. An MFP (multi-faceted person), if you will.

I have, for example, the adult. The part of me that pays her bills on time, makes sure there's money in the bank, that tries to remember important dates, and knows how to drive like a rational person, among other things.

Then there's the kid. Obsess over games much? Yes. Cartoons? Yes. Highly distractable? Yes. It's the part of me that tends to have a blatant disregard for what other people might be thinking when they see me chasing a grasshopper across a parking lot.

Both roles are crucial in the course of my days. I have friends of all ages, and while a night of a good dinner, conversation, cocktails, and laughing is a blast, so is a day at the computer talking to my guild mates organizing a raid or playing badminton in the pool with highly mutable rules.

Of course, like the multi-use cars, sometimes you don't fit the individual roles as well as you'd like. There's the tendency to forget my audience, and occasionally I'll find myself trying really hard to get someone excited about the last Pixar movie when all they want to do is get their work done. Or the occasional slip with my younger friends when they ask me about my day and I tell them about a really interesting thing that happened at work and realize as soon as the story commences that I can't really finish that particular story. Or finding out that playing on the playground equipment hurts your knees really badly. Or struggling to be a good shopping buddy, and failing secondary to poor taste and being distracted by something cool over in Brookstone.

I screw up a lot.

That being said, I am mystifed as well as grateful that I have the friends that I do. All of them. I don't know how else to be, and that seems to be okay.