I cry all the time. I’m not depressed. I’m actually a pretty happy person. Life hands me some lemons, but usually it’s all lemonade and smiles around here. Show me a commercial with the perfect soundtrack and a well developed story line and I’ll show you an admiring consumer attempting to hold back the tears. You know that really awkward scene in American Beauty? Where weird guy next door describes the movement of a plastic bag floating around in the wind (pre-Katy Perry, thank you very much) and he starts crying at the beauty of it? I was right there with him. Yes, emo-stoner-guy! Yes! There is beauty in trash! Normal isn’t beautiful! Pain is in beauty and beauty is in PAIN! Continue reading
A conversation I’ve had with quite a few people:
Notme McNotterson: What do you do for a living?
Me: I work in a nursing home.
Notme McNotterson: Oh, my. I couldn’t do that.
Me: Really? Why?
Notme McNotterson: Well, you know….They’re….old….and sick and all. It just seems like such a sad place.
First of all, nursing homes get an insanely bad rap. They might have been insane asylums in the 1950’s, but now they are just really nice, clean, and safe places for people who need help to live. Do you know that there are more state rules and regulations in place for a nursing home than a nuclear power plant? It’s true. Continue reading
There she was, both feet planted on the headboard, staring at the enormous portrait hanging above her bed. She admired the man in the picture and the work of the artist, not knowing that it was actually she who had painted it. She couldn’t place him, but she knew him. She would do this so often that eventually the painting was removed. It was dangerous for her to flip around in bed all the time and it confused her to wonder who the man was and why she seemed to know this piece so well. Her son took it home with him and hung it on his own wall. He could appreciate the memory of his father without doing somersaults off the furniture. Continue reading