Fear of Urinals

It’s sad what fear will drive us to sometimes.

For instance, it kills me to admit this but I've had this ridiculous fear of urinals lately. I don’t know how to express it without sounding like a complete nutcase to my entire audience. But I think women need to understand what men go through when we walk into bathrooms, stand shoulder to shoulder with complete strangers, zip open our flies in front of God and all humanity and start peeing against a completely defenseless wall. This is not always an easy thing for all of us.

The actual act of doing this has started to climb into my head more than it used to and now I’ve begun to psyche myself out to the point where waiting for an available stall sometimes has been my highest hope. It’s the worst at sporting events where a communal trough is all I get and I'm standing so close to people that I feel like I'm posing for a group picture.

I think I’m thinking too much. In fact, I know I’m thinking too much and if I could somehow transfer that thinking activity happening at the urinal to a much-more-useful venue, I probably would have no problem at all.

But the fact that sometimes an entire lineup of men will be standing behind me expecting me to finish promptly within the average thirty to forty seconds allotted, always gives me a little pause. I feel like I have the American Idol judges waiting to give me a performance evaluation as soon I’ve turned around. It’s a lot of pressure.

The self-talk only makes it worse. I stress myself out saying things like “Just relax,” “Don’t think about anything,” “I think we’re taking too long,” "We should be done by now," “This is not gonna’ happen,” “Why didn’t you just look for a stall?” “What’s wrong with you?” and “Do it! Hurry! Now! Now! Now!”

My cousin tells me to try this Zen thing that he does where he finds the smallest little dot on the wall and he focuses on just that while he counts to ten. I still haven’t brought myself to try it, but I think that might be my next step. I’m afraid it’ll only make me laugh which definitely won’t help my case in solemn moments like those. The judges would not respond positively to that one.

Either way, I’ll just save this entry for the next psychiatrist visit. It should give us something rich and meaningful to discuss.

A Resolution to the “Other Days”: The Brainchild of a Massive Dose of Unnecessary Over-thinking

It is Monday, January 3rd and I’ve yet to establish what my new year’s resolutions should be. I thought that possibly becoming more decisive might be one, but I’m still not sure. Also, I do realize that the whole point with New Year’s Resolutions is to start from midnight on January 1st and try to make it the whole year through- like the start of a marathon.

My friend even called me on New Year’s Day to ask me what my resolutions were and I went into a long-enough tirade to make him sorry he even asked the question as to why I don’t think I’ll make one this year. At least not on that exact day.

It’s just the thought that- knowing my history- I’m doomed if I make one. It’s as though I’m announcing to the world all of the things that will definitely NOT happen to me this year. Which almost makes me wonder if I set my goals to be the opposite of everything I’m wanting, then that “NOT happening” idea might cause the things I am wanting to happen to actually happen. Like I want to gain 10 pounds. Something I may have already achieved. Or do I want to make more money? Abolustely not. I’ve seen and contemplated enough advertisements to know how to answer this without a second thought. I want to make as little as is humanly possible.

This is not to knock the act of goal-setting for myself in any way. I think this is just more of an aversion to January 1st itself due to the past let-downs. So let me dedicate this resolution to the other days I tend to ignore. January 3rd, or February 8th, or August 17th, or December 30th for instance.

Because I think the time for myself to get started on a goal is always the day I’m thinking of that goal. Or even the minute I’m thinking of it. There is no time like the present.

The irony is that January 1st might be the one day in the year where I might just want to put off making a decision until tomorrow.

I neurotically turn down all sales pitches no matter how great the offer. I’ve gotten good at cutting people off before they begin.

“Hi. How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

Little head nods. Little smile exchanges.

“I wonder if you…”

“No thanks.” The head nods move to an immediate, blocking maneuver. Sometimes, even hands are necessary.

“Well, it’s just...”

“I’m good.”

I’m not wanting to be mean about it, but I just want to save them time. Whatever it is… free, diamond-encrusted, solid-gold, life-changing, take-your-breath-away, never-work-again, never-exercise-again, never-lift-a-finger-to-move-again, never-move-again yaddi yadda yadda.

All I know is that I do not want it.

I’m in the zone. I’m a sage whose reached fiscal enlightenment.

Although I still get suckered in sometimes. I still have those moments where my gaze catches that gimmicky thing and it’s like being caught in the clutches of the death star. I will pay whatever I have to pay to have that thing that I did not even know existed before this moment because I just know everything will be different from this point on now that this thing is a part of my life.

Little Kidney Punches

So I was just dumping coins into the Coinstar machine at Albertsons when this old man passed by me with a grin and said with a strong, New York accent, “Too lazy to count your own money?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” I said.

Why do I love people like that?

Sleep Deprivation

3:35 a.m. Can’t sleep. I don’t know why my brain does this. 3:00 in the morning rolls around and my brain flips on like a light bulb factory. So I wrestle with it for a half hour trying to lull it back to the netherworld, but I know it immediately as my eyes pop open. It’s like an untrained dog. He breaks free of the fence and he ain’t comin’ home. I don't even fight it any more. This is why I'm here.

I love how quiet it is in the early morning though. Nothing’s turned on yet. Except the ticking clock and the fridge buzzing to me from the kitchen which almost adds to the silence like these little departures that remind you of how quiet it is.

Extremely Boring Blog About the Fact that I Can't Think of Anything to Blog About- Please Don't Ask Me Why

So I can’t think of anything to write about and it has been seven long months since I’ve sat down to write anything. I have been remiss. To top it off, I am writing an extremely boring blog that even I am going to have trouble reading after I’m done.

You know it’s bad when you’re writing about the fact that you have nothing to write about.

My goal here is just to get something down on page and getting something logged into the site. I want back in your guys’s club.

Wow. This writing thing is extremely painful. I’ve forgotten. I think I’m kind of going through a sort of winter in my mind. My imagination has lain dormant for so long that it’s become frozen and packed in ice. I’m like Han Solo at the beginning of Return of the Jedi. And the only way I know to free myself is actually to do the reading and writing. Turn on the mental TV again as I keep trying to describe to my students.

I would like to say thank you to this new writing group I am working with. Without you guys, I would not be pushing myself to do this. But I know I have a meeting with you guys on Monday and I wanted to get something down on paper even though it might just be the worst thing I’ve ever written although there may be some heavy competition for this category if you'll just scroll down a bit.

3:09 p.m. I am alone in my little bungalow classroom located on the outskirts of campus next to the tennis courts- a little area I like to call “outer Mongolia” but I love it and I would never want to change this. As I write, there’s a band playing Spanish music outside. I have the door closed, but the drums are making it hard to hear myself think. This is my world. I also have softball, cheer, and soccer going on in different places to my left. It’s a barrage of noise I’m going to have to compete with when I write these blogs because I think this is where I will honestly get the most writing done. At home, I become active with everything under the sun. Jack never takes no for an answer when it comes to the walks.

3:37 p.m. The band has quieted now and I’m left to only a few sounds to compete with- bouncing basketball (somewhere straight ahead of me) and an extremely high-pitched whistle which may or may not be inside my head.

So I will say good-bye for today with hopes that I will be able to come back again and do this more often.

The adventure begins again.

They have everyone sign their name beforehand because it's too difficult to do it when you're unconscious and bleeding profusely.