So, I was heading to bed. I was setting my alarms to go off in the morning and when that was done I headed to the bathroom to begin my daily and nightly oral hygiene routine.
Earlier today I had bought some more floss, seeing how I had run out a couple of days ago. I opened the new package and started flossing, and the only thought running through my head was, "Fuck, my teeth are too close together."
Maybe this floss just was thicker than past brands that I had used, but with every tooth it was harder and harder to get the floss down. I mean, what's wrong with me? Why should I have to be born with this freak set of teeth that are difficult to work with.
When I was a teenager I, like most others my age, had braces and not long after they came off, my teeth shifted despite the permanent retainer on my bottom teeth.
To this day I still look in the mirror and see my slightly crocked teeth. My mother always told me that no one notices that one tooth is a little behind the others except for me. And maybe there is truth to that, but still it bothers me.
Now this thought is a bit funny to me. In the face of what turned out to be a shitty weekend, I allowed my entire battle plan for sleep to be disturbed by this completely trivial thought.
How is it that when people suffer, they can still think of stupid shit.
I mean, for example. Take an average person. When this average person goes to a funeral why do they find themselves wishing that they hand worn a different pair of shoes.
How is it that after completely cutting someone from my life all I can think about is my teeth?
And why can I find the time to complain about how long Girl Scout Cookies take to arrive, when there is some I love who has cancer.
And why is it that on a school night, I can stay up late to update by blog which frankly is just flat out neglected.
... I'm pretty sure I'm just rambling.
You know, while we're on the topic of rambling I have another trivial thought for you. It seems every six months I get a big urge to get a tattoo and I put that as a facebook status. Something like "Michael-Ray Carter really wants a new tattoo." In fact that is what my status says right now. Or something like that at least.
I got on google and started looking at the tattoo I want in different fonts. Do you know how many fonts are out there? Too many it seems. A lot of the fonts are really dumb and what's more, the names for these fonts are just nuts. Lunasol.... What does that even mean? It really seems like there is a shortage of pretty fonts. Mature fonts too for that matter.
As I'm writing this I'm looking at fonts. About 99% of them are just silly. I've gone through maybe 400 fonts in the last hour and there has been maybe one or two that have made me say, well that wouldn't look too bad on you for the rest of your life.
Maybe I should find someone who just has really awesome hand writing who wants to write it out for me. Any takers? What about you Jean-Louise? You're a writer and a girl. That means your handwriting is perfect. Right?
I really need to go to bed.
Meh, somethings keeping me up. Don't know what. This morning I woke up complacent to say the least. Then I got in my car and put on some music and for a small moment I was realizing what it was like to just let things go. Maybe let the universe take care of things. I thought maybe you don't have to try so hard all the time. But I've always been someone whose tried too hard. I don't mean I try too hard in class or at work. I just put so much pressure on myself. I make a huge deal of things that maybe don't need to be a big deal at all. And maybe if I just let go of looking at my life as some kind of game that I'm losing then maybe things will be ok. And I don't know what happened, but in that small moment of letting go and just letting the universe be whatever it is and stop trying to control it, something happened. The universe threw me a bone. It threw that bone right around 12:25 PM
Do you ever have moments like that? Where you remember exactly where you were, and exactly what you were thinking at a certain moment. Maybe even remembering what time and date it was. Every once in a while I have a memory like that.
For example, it was February of 2008. It was my third week at UNM. I had just transferred from another school where I only spent one semester. I didn't know many people, other than a few friends from High School who went there now.
Anyway, I was sitting in the Popejoy Lobby with my introduction to sign Language book open. I was at this brownish green table which was honestly quite ugly. As I was sitting there a boy passed me who I had meet two weeks earlier. He was actually probably one of the first boys I meet at UNM. He was older than me and I was very young (well I still am I guess) and I was very wide eyed and I thought when we first meet we had been flirting. Turns out he was just being nice and helping the poor lost freshmen find his choir class.
Anyway, that's how we meet. I was desperately looking for class and he saw me in the hall and showed me to the room.
So back to my story. I was sitting at that table and he came and talked to me for just a minute. He said hi, and asked how I was liking the school and I just had this dorky crush on him so I tried to really make the conversation count. Needless to say though there was no exchange of numbers.
Now the reason I remember this story, is not because of this boy. I remember it because of the boy in the back ground. We'll call that person in the back ground Boy B and the one who talked to me who I had the crush on Boy A to avoid confusion. When A had broken away from B to come say hi to me B just stood where he was and waited for our conversation to be over and for his friend to come back so they could continue on their way to god knows where. And even though I was trying to make a connection with A, I kept looking over at B and wondering what there was to know about him. His name. where he was from. What his major was. and then eventually A went back to B and they left. and at the moment I thought nothing of it. A was an acquaintance and B was a downright stranger who I would likely never see again. And well about a year and a half later in the summer of 2009 B and I were dating.
Before we had started dating we had become very good friends through a series of random encounters and classes we happened to be taking. Actually he was probably the best gay male friend I had/have ever had in my life. We hung out all the time and we played video games constantly and we both ruined that friendship by dating each other. Ha.
Long story short, we broke up, which, for the record, was for the best. I just thought it was funny, because he thought that we had meet through class. Which is true. I didn't meet him formally till we had a class together, but I always remembered that moment in the lobby in 2008.
I have a whole handful of memories like that. Memories like when I shopped at an American Eagle and tried and failed to flirt with the boy behind the counter. Memories about when I was 15 years old and I was at a movie night with some friends and there was this annoying band nerd who had tagged along with us.
Or the time that I meet someone who came to one of my plays and even sent me a friend request on Facebook. I remember that one really well. It was March 28th, 2010. Around 2 oclock. The first time I saw him he was sitting in the front row of the audience and I'll never know why but he had this big smile on and I remember seeing that smile from stage and stopping in my tracks mid sentence and completely losing my train of thought.
Another time, I meet this guy in an ASL class whose name was Lucky. And I remember very clearly thinking, he would be really cute if he just got a fucking hair cut.
Hell, just a few weeks ago I remember going to school and realizing that I hadn't shaved. I figured it was alright. Who did I have to impress today? And well I had to eat those words because while I was standing in the green room this boy walked in who honestly would have been very worth impressing at that moment.
And when I was 18 I was working at JcPenny's and I got this horrible dye job that turned my whole head of hair (which was a lot at the time) into a bronze color and my co-worker Candice came in and all shift she was saying the nicest things about it. See there was one memory that wasn't about a boy.
What's funny though, is that those memories, they're just memories. At the end of the day how precious is a memory? Is it something we need to cling to with dear life? Or is should it be celebrated? Or are some better left forgotten? And how is it that memories that define us as people and or even as humans take up about as much room in our minds as the thoughts that we have about our teeth?
P.S.
I think I'm going to try to start cursing less. I kind of want to be a better person. I don't know if that will help or is even necessary to be being a "better" person, but I figured it would be nice if I could put some thoughts more eloquently.
Oh and one last thing. Thanks for reading. I think I came off a bit ditsy in this one and I feel I even came off as boy crazy, mourning all my failed relationships and dating attempts. I don't feel like that right now. I was just kind of observing some of my past memories that always seem to stick out for god knows why.
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