Though I don’t know precisely where this post is going on my desperately-trying-to-be-lazy Sunday, I think it’s fair to say it’s not going to be high-minded. If you’d like an in-depth discussion on, say, quantum physics, this isn’t the post to read. I may be able to guarantee some semi-snarky and self-effacing commentary on how out-of-touch I feel with the world at large. Maybe. So on to things I just don’t understand.
I may on occasion watch a big game of sorts to feel like I have something to talk about with the “normal” average folks, but mostly I just don’t get it or care. For example, I may watch the Super Bowl (Actually, just typing that made me giggle a bit. My bowl is SUPER.) for commercials and/or to find out who won so I can have this knowledge on hand should I need it for awkward small talk. I may even know basic info about how a game is played and even pretend to guess what the flag on that play could mean. (“Uh, holding? Off-sides?”) I do admit to enjoying watching hockey. I haven’t seen a game in ages, and I’m not if even sure what I find so appealing. It might even just be that I spent the first 9 years of my life on the east coast, where I believe hockey is more of an institution than out west. But, please, for the sake of your sanity and my physical well-being, do not ask me to engage in actually playing sports with you. I was in remedial P.E. in the third grade. Really. Please don’t laugh too hard. I have notoriously bad hand-eye coordination. Though this has improved slightly since becoming a parent. I can now save an infant from falling off of a table. Yeah, true story. Shut up. It was my kid and he’s survived my short-comings so far, so no need to involve the authorities. I may be able to engage in sports with you if hand-eye coordination with a ball is not necessary. If it is, like in my worst-nightmare sports of baseball, volleyball, and football, please just hit me in the head with the ball and let me go sit down a safe distance away from the activity. Seriously, my head is a ball magnet. Go ahead and chuckle, it’s true. I can semi-successfully engage in soccer (generally your hands aren’t involved!) and mini-golf. Otherwise, please just take pity on my uncoordinated self and leave me be. You won’t be able to help me because I am predestined to be crappy at sports and will become horribly embarrassed and frustrated should you try to make me better.
I really don’t want to make anyone mad here. If it brings you comfort, solace, community, whatever–I am glad for you. I will not mock you. I am going to say that I am probably really lazy and that lots of religions seem to require more time (My beloved Sunday laundry/cleaning time? Sorry, it’s mine.), committment and energy than I have. I admit to being a closet Jew and Catholic. I love the community and ritual of Judaism and the iconography and unintentional paganism of Catholicism. If I had to label myself, I’d say I’m an open-minded Agnostic. (“Agnostic. Lazy man’s Atheist.”) I may, however, get irritated with proselytizing. Listen, if I want to eat dinner alone, while reading a book at a restaurant, that’s my prerogative. It doesn’t mean that I am horribly broken and lonely and require your pamphlet to save me. Live and let live! Each to his own! To once again quote from a (I think still) underrated show, Community, because it can say it better than I can: “To me, religion is like Paul Rudd. I see the appeal, and I would never take it away from anyone. But I also would never stand in line for it.”
This category is very broad for me, as I currently live my life as drug-free as you can imagine. Really. No alcohol or caffeine even. But there’s something you really need to understand about me, well, two things maybe. 1. I am a control freak. I don’t like to feel out of control. And I feel like I can be obsessive, so why invite trouble? 2. I am physically little and sensitive. A light-weight if you will. The first time I got drunk it was off ONE shot of goldschlager and I dry-heaved in the morning. Generally, my body has more tolerance for hard liquor. I get really hung-over on wine and I’ve never understood the appeal of beer. Whiskey, vodka, and I get along pretty well and maybe we’ll have a reunion again when I am less afraid of my body. Oh, and giving me caffeine can be annoying or hilarious, depending on your sense of humor. If you’re a parent, you probably have seen Over the Hedge. Giving me caffeine is a bit like giving Hammy the squirrel that energy drink. And I really hate just about everything about coffee. Blasphemous, I know. There’s really nothing about it that I enjoy–the smell, the taste, the jitters, the havoc it causes for my stomach–not a pleasant thing about coffee, for me. Maybe there are drugs that I can and should benefit from, but I’m wimpy and just fine being a little high-strung and crazy, for now. And, not to be too preachy, drug abuse can have real consequences.
Oh, and I am sure that there are so many other things that I don’t get, but this is a good start for now. There may be a second installment at some point which will likely include torturous things women do to their bodies in the name of beauty and team-building activities. If I was ever forced into a body-waxing team relay to bond with my fellow secretaries, my worst nightmare may just be realized…