I tend to ramble

Some Things Aren’t Funny on Valentines Day

More often than not I’m reminded how much I should never have children.
Unfortunately for the children I have not given birth to, more often than not, they are placed under my care. While I’m by no stretch a professional nanny for some reason, much like cats, kids seem to appear in my life and I just have to deal.

Which is how, last week on the glorious holiday known as Valentines Day I ended up in a 2nd grade classroom playing the role of responsible adult.

They were having a party, which I have to say was probably the only reason people began to like Valentines Day in the first place. Because in grade school Valentines Day had nothing to do with overpriced Roses or special dinners booked months in advance. Then it was simple, Valentines Day was the heart shaped version of Halloween and without most of the hassle. Instead you just placed a box on your desk and waited for it to be filled with heart shaped pieces of sugar without even a mention of “tricking” or “treating”. Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s got to be where those sweet memories of Valentines Day originated, but it’s really just a theory.

Anyway, I was in the classroom as a volunteer for the end of day Valentines Party. Luckily, I hadn’t really thought about this fact until I got there, but when I did I immediately panicked. Panicked in the obscene language filled way someone would panic when they realize it’s been a while since they’ve been in a classroom with lots of small children and in that while they’d happened to develop a knack for using the word “fuck” in any and all situations.

And of course this is all I can think about as I’m walking into the classroom. How I’m going to scar these children for life with my poor choice of vocabulary.
In an attempt to calm myself down I began to tell myself that the parents probably wouldn’t even care. In fact they probably wouldn’t care SO MUCH they’d think it would be funny. They’d probably be like “we fucking swear in front of our kids all the fucking time, that’s our joke! “


Unfortunately it was not their joke. They did not find it funny.  And, while I did not swear once during the entire party I did happen to snag the coveted job as the party’s “garbage picker-upper” which involved attempting to snatching pieces of pirates booty off the floor before they were crushed into the carpet.

I’m never fucking having children.

Happy Belated Valentines Day!

easter eggs and turkey eyes

On Easter my younger brother got a piece of turkey stuck in his eye.

Literally, a chuck of turkey was stuck to the corner of his eyeball.

It was weird.

People generally don’t experience these things because most of us have better aim than that. I have better aim than that and I can count on my hand how many times a balled up piece of paper I’ve thrown into the garbage has actually made it.

I celebrate every time.

One year, when I was younger, I went with my friend and her parents to an Easter party at their neighbors house.

She told me it was the best Easter egg hunt ever. Apparently, some of these eggs had money inside.

We were so excited as we stood waiting to be given the go ahead to find these eggs. And then, as we were waiting this propeller sound grew louder and louder, until there was literally a helicopter landing in the field we were looking out onto.

The helicopter landed and a man dressed up as a giant stuffed bunny got out with another older man by his side. The older man was grasping a megaphone ]and although his words were slightly muffled by the sound of the helicopter behind him, he told us the Easter egg hunt had officially began.

The moment he finished speaking we all sprinted off into the bushes.

 I didn’t end up winning any money. Actually to be honest, I don’t think I found many eggs at all.

What a bust. My friend said to me as we walked back to the car.

 Apparently you can’t win everyone over with a helicopter.

Easter it seems is the most bizarre holiday ever. 

Eggs and Adulthood

This morning, I had breakfast with a few of my co-workers and the minds and voices behind Radio Lab.

I ate a plate of eggs. They’d just won a Peabody award. It turned out to be quite a productive morning.

“We’re adults now,” they joked, as we congratulated them on their win.

And we laughed, partly because it kind of felt true.

Maybe they’re right, maybe the only adults in this world are actually Peabody winners. Or at least people who’ve achieved something big.

 And the rest of us are just in-between. Wandering around, hoping that we’ll find someway to achieve all the things we believe we can. Desperately trying to figure it out. Or, maybe it was only a joke and I should learn to think less when eating eggs for breakfast.

 Regardless, this isn’t about a fancy award or what I ate for breakfast. This is about creating something meaningful. Something made not because it’s necessarily profitable, but because it’s believed in. Something that reminds people it’s okay to be human.

 Last night we were lucky enough to see these Radio Lab live. They talked about the relationship between people and symmetry—the desire to connect, our sympathy toward stories, the difference between a mirror-life and an actual one.  They examined all of this in front of a sold-out audience. An audience mesmerized by what was going on in front of them.  

  It was incredible, although incredible doesn’t fully do it justice. Because, really, it’s impossible to fully articulate what it feels like to be moved by something, like really, insanely moved.  It’s as if everything inside you— your mind, your body, your fingers are just consumed by this crazed wonderment—this insanely creative, inquisitive energy. Like you’ve just had 1,000 cups of coffee without feeling like you’ll die.

You’re just straight up giddy.

Maybe they were right. Maybe winning a Peabody award does mean you’re finally an adult. An adult who, sits you down, pats you on the head and reminds you that it’s okay to be human. Actually, it’s pretty fucking great. 

new blog

i guess this means i’m definitely a narcissist. 

elephantvhippo.tumblr.com

new blog.

Oh, why hello there blog.

I’ve become terrible at communicating. 

I’m going to work on it. The obvious solution to my problem is to start blogging again. Very personal indeed. So, get ready, this blog is about to get out of control.