The Sad & the Pathetic: Issue 32

“This woman takes on the world. Picks up your shirts. Keeps it together somehow. This same woman
 that melts with your touch wants you to feel what I’m feeling right now. Cause this woman needs a
 safe place to love the strength in your hands. To know that you know what this woman needs is
 somewhere to cry so lay by my side and I’ll tell you what this woman needs.”

	Well I’m sitting here crooning to the new song that I have become obsessed with. I have
 finally gotten it on tape from the radio and in my usual practice I will play it over and over and
 over again until I merely just like the song a lot. My dad once noticed me doing this and said that he
 did it as well. Which is good. Just another habit that I can blame on him. Whew! I might have to
 take responsibility for my actions. 
	Last night I was reading some government readings. In the hall, I hear Adia and Emma noises.
 Now for those of you who don’t know what those are. . . I sincerely think that you are missing out
 on one of the greater joys of life. I couldn’t tell what they were doing, but I had an idea that it
 involved snow. Most likely they were running after each other throwing snow or something of this nature. At this point I’m just laughing alone listening. A giggle here, a protest there from Adia.
 Actually just thinking about it makes me laugh. .  so beautiful. I didn’t have to wait longer than a
 minute before Adia comes running into my room huffing. Apparently Emma and Annie had gotten her
 in a corner and cut her down with some snowballs. Then in comes Emma. So of course I got the whole
 story to which I just sat there laughing. As is my purpose in life. Well that and singing out loud to
 my walkman, which is evil and eats my tapes. Do you think it’s a woman? I should get a new one. . . .
 I’m just too cheap. 
	Speaking of purposes and such. ..What did you want to be when you were a kid? I think some of
 the most common answers are things like teachers, actresses/actors, singers and so on. Jamie told
 me that he wanted to be a truck driver. I think that’s great. “No one ever says, ‘I want to be a
 junkie when I grow up.’” (How many of you remember that commercial?) Now I’ll admit that as a wee
 lass I wanted to be a singer, in some ways I still would like to. .. but I’m content singing to my walkman. More so I wanted to be an artist. The President of the United States. I have to say I was
 extremely disappointed when I found out that I wouldn’t be able to paint the White House black, in
 sixth grade. I suppose my enjoyment of irony was strong even at the age of ten. It was never about
 being the FIRST WOMAN president. I can’t help that I’m female. I just wanted to be president. 
 Of course another irony is that I’ve never wanted to be really really famous. I kind of like living in
 anonymity. This kind of works against me wanting to be a highly successful artist, singer, or
 president. I wouldn’t have a problem being the butt of half the jokes on Saturday Night Live, but
 they could at least make them funny. I’d have to help them write the jokes. As an artist I wouldn’t really have much of a problem keeping a low profile. I mean really. . how many of you know what Susan
 Rothenburg, Jasper Johns, or Mark Tansey look like? How many of you even know who they are? Ah
 ha! My point exactly. 

“To be reassured. That my heart’s your home and love is what wills you to stay. I need you to see me
 in every light. And hear that you still think I’m beautiful, any way. Cause this woman needs a safe
 place to live. The strength in your hands. To know you know what this woman needs is somewhere to
 cry so lay by my side and I’ll tell you what this woman needs.”

	I like hands. They are so interesting. No one has the same hands. You can often tell what
 someone does for a living by looking at their hands. When I look at my hands I see short nails, short
 fingers. I have a poor defaced ring on my right middle finger.  During the summer, I have a small
 patch on my right hand that doesn’t tan, so it must lack pigment. When I paint or print I end up
 with ink stained fingers and arms. A friend of mine is high school had the most amazing hands. His
 hands were huge. I think he wants to be a surgeon.  I have always wanted to do a study of his hands.
 Someday.
	 My freshman or sophomore year in high school we all did a study of hands. Sometime just watch
 the way your hands move. The way the tendons pull against the skin create shadows and shapes. How
 your nails curve slightly and the way your cuticles frame your nails. Both my dad and my brother
 have very flat nails and very large hands. If I put my hand up to compare it to Scott’s my fingers
 only reach his middle knuckle, maybe. Bekks and I have about the same size hands as well as Adia.
 Carrie’s are a tad smaller, Emma’s larger. Saraa’s smaller. Emma has very long hands. Mark has
 longer hands. I don’t remember yours, Josh. (Good luck on your test by the way-I’m sure you did great) Sara. .. I don’t know. Our hands have a definite relationship to our feet as well as our face.
 If you have larger feet you’ll have larger hands and a longer face. If you have narrow feet, narrow
 hands. Wider feet, wider hands. I have small hands and feet, but they are wider. Another something
 I can blame on my dad. Woohoo! Scott likes to pick up baby sized tennis shoes in shoe stores and say
 to me, “Look Mary! Just your size!” Hmmm. . . . bite me. As if he can say anything though. . he is
 Bigfoot. He leaves his shoes in the middle of the den and it’s not like you can just pass by them.
 Then are the size of boulders and weigh as much.  I’m forced to bring out the bulldozer so that I can
 get by them. That’s only if I’m lucky though. Usually it’s about three a.m. and I’m going to the
 kitchen to get something to drink. Wrong. My purpose apparently is to go to the ER. You try
 tripping over the Andes and see how you feel. It’s not like I can make a clean fall to the floor. There is always a comfy chair or foot stool to break my fall and my ribs. I like to think of it as
 training for the Navy Seals. If they can make it through my house. .. . they should be given a medal.
 Of course as President I would be honored to give them one. I’ll try not to stick them, unless
 they’re hot. Ouch. 
	I still haven’t covered Costa Rica. *sigh* Allora. . .. maybe next time. 

Have a lovely day everyone. 
*big hug*
Remember what Monty Python always says. 
“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
-Mare