• Not every ending is happy.

    Why do we submit ourselves to sorrow? Life is hard enough, yet we remind ourselves that it can be harder. I’m speaking of movies that end badly. Not bad in the sense that they are poorly crafted; rather, they end on a sad note. The good guy does not prevail. Good does not defeat evil. The hero does not pull it out in the end.

    I’ve just finished watching such a movie, and I’m left feeling a little depressed; more so by the fact that it was supposed to be based on a true story. I’ve taken a perfectly good day and flushed it down the toilet. What’s more, this is not the first time I’ve done it. I know what it’s like to finish a “depressing” movie, but I sit down and watch another one anyway – like an alcoholic who takes a drink knowing he’ll be hung over in the morning. I didn’t really have any fun in between though.

    Not everything we do in life is because it is fun. Even so, where does this leave me with depressing movies? What do we get out of them? What brings us back for more? Am I just a closet masochist?

  • Memorex.

    John and Cheryl had been married nearly ten years, but they had know each other since high school. First they were perfect strangers, then they were friends, then more than friends (wink, wink), then man and wife, and finally mother and father. Through it all they noticed changes in each other. Cheryl grew a little sterner and more assertive. Being a law enforcement officer will do that to you. John? Well John just got weirder, but that’s another story. They both got a little older – and the extra weight that usually goes along with it.

    One day Cheryl noticed that John had a little more energy than she did. He always seemed ready to go, while she was asleep on her feet. She asked him what the secret was. He told her that it was all of the house and yard work that he diligently kept at. He told her that yard work in particular was an exercise program all to itself. The squatting and lifting providing the anaerobic exercise, and an increase in the pacing providing the aerobic exercise. Cheryl decided to give it a try. It was as if she had found her calling in life. Planting life in the yard was like giving birth to a child, and she was surrounded by her children. But this soon caused problems. There was not enough work to go around in their small yard, and John was resentful. Tensions grew until it found a release, and it wasn’t pretty. Arguing in front of the neighborhood over who was going to plant a new ficus tree, John yanked the tree from Cheryl’s grasp and tossed through the front window. Something needed to be done.

    Little did they know, the solution was right down the road. John’s parents had a yard twice the size of John and Cheryl’s; and it was just begging for attention. John and Cheryl found their solution. This yard would prove to be more than enough work for the two of them, that is until Beth decided that she wanted in – but that’s another story.

    The characters in this story are a work of fiction. Any similarities to any real persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

  • One foot, two feet.

    There is a great debate raging in my own mind. I can’t decide where I stand on what could well be the greatest dilemma facing mankind in the twenty-first century: “is it O.K. to walk around the office without shoes on?” I’ve said this before… like all great questions in life, the answer is definitely: “it depends”. How much do your feet smell when disrobed? How isolated is your work space from your coworkers? How is the air circulation? If your feet smell, does it tend to dissipate or linger?

    I must say that I was a bit shocked when I saw one of my coworkers walking about the office in socks for the first time. I wasn’t angry or indignant, just surprised. You come to work expecting certain things. I’ve come to expect that everyone will be wearing shoes. Now my expectations have changed. Shoelessness has spread through our office like a bad odor. Suddenly every other person is walking into my office sans footwear. Now I must admit that my shoeless coworkers don’t really have any unpleasant odors under foot (as far as I can tell – I’m not putting my nose where it doesn’t belong). It doesn’t really bother me that they are exposing the carpet to their bare feet. Come to think of it, I’m rather envious. I couldn’t do that without tying a couple of air fresheners to my feet, and then I would have defeated the whole purpose of shedding my shoes in the first place. Maybe it should be a matter of fairness. What was it that my fourth grade teacher said, “unless you’ve got enough for everyone then no one gets any.” If those of us with smelly feet can’t experience the joy of air under our arches then no one should.

    Come to think of it, I didn’t like my fourth grade teacher very much. I think I may just keep this one to myself.

    Oops.