Three Word Wednesday #12

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also write something using the same three words.

Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
Net
Lock
Flipped

Hi... I know you didn't expect to see me here. I got the address from your mother. You look better than ever. Look, I don't quite know how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it.

I love you.

I've never stopped loving you. And I know you probably don't feel the same, but I've basically been running around in circles the past five years. Looking for something that I'd already found. Looking for something I lost.

And I know this probably doesn't change things, and that's OK. But I just had to let you know. Just in case...

Standing on her porch, I went over the words again and again in my head. What I wanted to say. How I wanted to say it. My hands shook as I reached to press the doorbell.

This was it. I was jumping without a net. But the danger wasn't in dying, or failing. The danger was in not living. Not trying.

In a few seconds, I would know. And that would be enough.

My heart pounded into my head. My stomach flipped. My throat was suddenly dry. I attempted to swallow, but couldn't. Then I heard someone turn the lock.

"Since you've been gone, there's something I wanna say. Since you've been gone, there's no one taking your place. Since you've been gone, I've just been foolin' around..."

The False Messiah raps

I was awakened by a text message at 7:16 Monday morning. It read, "By by shula channel six." That was my Mom, alerting me that Alabama's football coach had been fired. (Except that it actually said channen six. But she's only been texting for a short time, and I don't think she knows how to delete or backspace yet.) Anyway, that probably tells you more about my life and background than anything.

Thus ended my Thanksgiving holiday weekend. It wound up being more eventful than the False Messiah had anticipated. First of all, Wednesday was Laura's last day on General Hospital. It was incredibly sad. And might I add, cruel, for them to bring her back then snatch her away just as quickly.

I also noticed that with my gray pullover sweater and glasses, I was beginning to look a bit like Dillon Quartermaine. Although when I took the GH personality quiz online, it said I was most like Nikolas. Which is probably accurate.

Thursday was good, as I got to see Mom, Dad, and my sister. And eat. And then play Clue and 80's Trivial Pursuit with friends. Although I kept blurting out answers to other people's questions. And everyone got mad. Well, not really mad. More like slightly perturbed, in that it's-cute-at-first-but-now-it's-getting-old-but-still-it's-Bone-so-what-can-you-do kind of way.

Mom had oral surgery Friday. Even though she didn't say anything, I could tell she was really nervous about it, as she'd never been put to sleep. My sister and I took turns sitting with her Friday and Saturday, as she pretty much laid around all weekend. She seems to be doing OK now.

Saturday night, I went to see Bobby. Let's just say it wasn't what I expected. And I mistook Demi Moore and Emilio Estevez for Courtney Cox and David Arquette. But the video and audio clips of Robert Kennedy campaigning and speaking were worth the price of admission for me. They don't make speakers like that anymore.

Began my Christmas shopping Sunday and put up my tree last night. (I'll try and post a picture later.) Also checked to make sure my Festivus pole was still in the crawlspace. It was. I'll be dragging that out later this month.

I've also spent the past couple of days pondering my dating quiz results from the post below. I think that False Messiah would be a killer rap name, should I ever decide to pursue that avenue.

Here are just a few lines I've been spitting, as the kids say:
I'm the False Messiah/This ain't Mount Moriah/I don't know Hezekiah/But you can call me king/My street cred's invincible/My rhymes super sensible/Your crime indefensible/If you don't dance and sing...

I'll keep tweaking it. It's all a process. A journey. I imagine this is how Eminem got started. Or at least Weird Al.

"Come on, weatherman, give us a forecast snowy white. Can't you hear the prayers of every childlike heart tonight..."

The 32-type Dating Test

Daphne. "He said you could never ma a commitment to anyone, and you'd just wind up hurting me."
George: "He said that? What a nerve! How dare he say something like that!"
Daphne: "Is it true?"
George: "Of course not... I mean sure, there may have been one or two occasions in the past, when I may have reacted in an impulsive or somewhat immature manner. But those days are well behind me."

Got this little quiz from Circe.

The False Messiah Deliberate Brutal Love Master (DBLMm) People believe in you, and then you send them to hell. Behold, the False Messiah. You're usually a very kind person, and conscientious, too. Socially, you're a leader, and your friends and associates look up to you. You're probably tall. In intimate relationships, you're a capable, responsive, and experienced lover. Outside the box, however, you run into trouble. Your exact opposite: The Pool Boy Random Gentle Sex Dreamer Girls fall hard for you, but you're much more ambivalent about them. The beginnings of your relationships are unusually intense, making it all the rougher on her when they end. At first, using all your accumulated tricks of the trade, you ladle on the affection. But once she's all covered in soup, you withhold the true napkins of commitment. What's that all about? We should've called you the False Waiter. You're looking for Love. But history tells us you struggle to settle down and accept it. There's a deep streak of carnality within you. And while you'll never be a predator, you'll always fight the urge to roam free. You like to plan things out, so plan this: find someone who can indulge your selfish side, has a healthy sexual appetite, and doesn't mind uncertainty. FLEE: The Sonnet, The Window Shopper PURSUE: The Stiletto, The Peach, The Nymph Link: The 32-Type Dating Test by OkCupid - Free Online Dating.

Geez, that's the last time I'm completely honest on some stupid love quiz. Although stilettos are hot.

One of my favorite questions was #26: Do you ever start a relationship already knowing you want out?

Who would ever do something like that....... what..... What's everyone looking at?

"Moons and Junes and ferris wheels. The dizzy dancing way you feel. As every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way..."

Three Word Wednesday #11

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. Don't spend too much time on it. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also write something using the same three words.

Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
Smoke
First
Rolling

The morning was cold. Frost sprinkled across the grass. My breath like smoke in front of my face. Steam coming off his bald head. Which sometimes made me laugh. But not this morning.

It was 7 AM. My first day out of school for the holidays. I didn't know much, but I knew there was no way on Earth I should be up this early. Unless it was to play Nintendo.

"Do you know how to use this?"
"No," I said in my most disgruntled 14-year-old voice.
"It's a post hole digger. You do it like this."

He began to demonstrate, driving the contraption into the ground. His flannel sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I always wondered if my arms would ever get to be as big as his.

"Here. Try it."
I gave it my most half-hearted effort. The ground was hard. The old wood handles cut into my hand.
"It's too hard," I whined.
Rolling his eyes, he uttered one of his favorite all-time phrases.
"What you gonna do when your ol' Dad's not around anymore?"
Sleep, I thought.

I was sure he was trying to teach me some kind of lesson, but I was much too cold and ill to know or care what it was.

"When you comin' home, son? I don't know when. But we'll get together then. You know we'll have a good time then..."

The survival guide inside my head

One day last week after work, I was walking across the parking lot to check my mail. Without bothering to look, I could tell that a car had slowed down and come to a stop right in front of the parking lot. I figured they were waiting for oncoming traffic to clear so that they could turn left. But no.

Before I reached the mailbox, I heard a car door open and a voice yell, "Hey! Get off my a--!"

This caused me to finally look over, and I saw that a car had come to a complete stop right in the middle of a wet, rather busy two-lane street. The driver had his head out the door glaring at the guy behind him.

I was just waiting for shots to be fired or something. So I pondered what I would do, you know, if it all started going down right there.

I figured my best hope would be to dive onto the concrete. Then using skills I learned playing in driveway culverts when I was eight years old, I would belly crawl until I found cover behind the nearest car in the parking lot. Once there, I would try and call for help on my cell phone.

Fortunately, my emergency plan of action wasn't needed in this case. The irate driver closed his door and started going again. And the car behind him revved up its engine and rode his tail all the way down the street. Mission accomplished, Ace.

But this isn't a post about road rage or making oneself look like a total idiot while endangering the lives of those around you. Although those topics deserve their fair share of attention.

No, this is a post about what was going on inside my head as the situation unfolded. And how I often think thru possible worst-case scenarios like this. There are many other examples.

When I'm running in the park, if it's after dark, there usually aren't many other people on the track. A couple of times I've been the only one. And I often think, what would I do if someone jumped out of the darkness and attacked me?

For some reason, the first thing that always comes to mind is that I would throw my keys into the woods. That way, they couldn't steal my car. Although just thinking about it now, throwing my car keys into the woods somehow doesn't seem quite as brilliant as it does when I'm running.

And I always think that even though I've been running and I'm quite tired, that my assailant is probably out of shape, and I could still outrun them to the road and flag down a passing car for help.

One night last week I was coming out of Wal-Mart. There's been a rash of robberies in the Wal-Mart parking lot lately. So I started thinking, what if someone jumped me right now? What would I do?

I've always thought there's no way I would just hand my wallet over to a thief. That most are cowards who don't want to shoot anyone, so I'd make them fight for it. That's probably stupid. And I've probably seen one too many Jason Morgan escapes for my own good.

But still, I think things like, "I have my cell phone in my hand. If I hit them in the head with it, that'll probably knock them out." Would it? Who knows. But that's what I think about anyway.

And there you have it. A look inside my head. Something tells me I should spend more time pondering things like what I would say if I encountered a cute girl. I guess it all goes back to something I learned at the only boy scout meeting I ever attended. Be prepared.

Does anyone else ever think about such things?

"I was flying, just like a track star. Dying, nah, I ran through the back yard. Trying to get into my building..."

The Office

The Office is money. The cast is outstanding. The writing is fresh and funny. I can even overlook the Pam and Jim will-they-or-won't-they thing which has been done to death in television, because the rest of the show is so brilliant. And also because I was rooting for them to get together myself.

It has become the proverbial water cooler show. As well it should. For in my opinion, The Office is, quite simply, the best sitcom since Seinfeld.

Besides making it's way into pop culture, workplace conversations, and blogs, I think that The Office may or may not be effecting the way I behave at work.

Now I've always been a bit of a jokester around the office. Doing things like taping the receptionist's mouse to the desk, ringing the doorbell when she's in the bathroom and has locked the front door. You know, the usual.

But lately, I've been trying to be more "official" with things. We have a small office. Only five full-time employees, along with a general manager and an owner, both of whom are out more than they are in. Still, just because we are small in number does not mean we can't be a real office.

So lately I've been doing things like this. Today, we were out of tissues. So instead of asking the secretary--oh I'm sorry, administrative assistant--if she could pick some up, I said, "I'd like to turn in a requisition form for some tissues. Preferably Kleenex, in the box with blue and purple flowers."

The other day, one of our computers went down. And instead of asking the administrative assistant to call about it, I said, "I need to turn in a trouble ticket on one of our computers."

See how much more official that sounds? I'm even thinking about turning in a requisition form for a booklet of trouble tickets. Although I'll have to order the requisition forms first. And pay for them out of my own pocket.

I'm not sure how well my little tactics are working yet. Sure, people smile or snicker. But then it's right back to their humdrum-thirty-years-til-I-die lives.

Also, tornado drills, when you're the only one sitting in the hall with your head between your legs, not safe, just... odd. And don't even get me started on the time I tried to institute a fire drill.

Nevertheless, I will press on in my quest to create a more official, and therefore, efficient workplace. Because my credo is, I may not be able to change this office. But I will never allow this office to change me.

And I will not be redacting that statement.

"And if your train's on time, you can get to work by nine. And start your slaving job to get your pay..."

Three Word Wednesday #10

Today is I Love To Write Day, coincidentally.

Each week, I will post three (or more) random words. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write something using all of those words. It can be a few lines, a story, a poem, anything. Don't spend too much time on it. It doesn't have to be perfect. The idea is to let your mind wander and write what it will. I'll also write something using the same three words.

Be sure to leave a comment if you participate.

This week's words are:
Stool
Dancing
Flushed

From my seat at the bar, I watched her. In the spaces in between people passing, I caught frequent glimpses of her dancing. Sometimes she'd look over and smile or wave. It was a scene that had played out countless times before. This was her at her best. Smiling. Shining. Everybody loved her. Including me.

When I saw the next stranger approach her and strike up a conversation, I headed for the door. It was raining outside. And the street was mostly deserted. Everyone having found a warm, dry place inside one of the many bars, pubs, and restaurants.

By the time I reached the corner, it was pouring. I wondered if she'd noticed the empty stool yet. Five more blocks to the parking garage. But I didn't run. I didn't even walk fast. Just looked towards the sky and closed my eyes. The rain felt cleansing. And I felt like I needed to be cleansed.

When I got back to the apartment, I changed into dry clothes, then packed up my things. Stopping a couple of times to look at pictures of us. I wondered why people only take happy pictures.

I wondered what she'd think when she got home and realized I was gone. Would she know why?

It wasn't about her. It was about us. We just didn't work together. And it was about me. With addiction, if you're lucky, there comes a day when you wake up and realize you have to change. No one can do it for you. I was lucky.

Before I left, I went into the bedroom and took three pill bottles from the back of the desk drawer. Then I went into the bathroom. Opening the first bottle, I gripped it so tightly I'm surprised it didn't crush. I stared at myself in the mirror. For ten seconds, or more. My eyes were clear.

I poured out the pills and flushed them down the toilet. Part of me wondering if I'd regret it as I watched them disappear. Then I did the same with the other two bottles.

It was a little past midnight and still raining as I loaded my bags into the car. I realized you don't really feel the rain when you're high. Not in the same way.

I was still driving at 2:30 when the phone rang. I knew she'd find a way home. She always did.

I didn't answer. She'd be mad about the pills.

"And where you go I hope you find out there, a better rain. The kind that comes in off the coast and paints the sky. And lets you know that God's alive..."

Civic duty

Sorry if I haven't been around to your blogs as much lately. But last week, I was called to that most noble of American duties. And it has been taking up much of my time. I know, I know, some people shy away or try and make up excuses why they can't do it. But not this American. I have answered the call.

Yes, friends. I, Bone, have been selected to keep a Nielsen TV Viewing Diary. And I take this opportunity, yea, responsibility, very seriously. For the past five days, I have been meticulously keeping a record of everything I watch on television. It feels good to be doing something that matters.

After all, how else will they know to keep airing Seinfeld reruns in syndication. That no one watches the CW, still. And that ABC's disastrous ratings are due, in large part, to such shows as Men In Trees, Six Degrees, and What About Brian. What, you've never heard of any of those shows? Exactly.

When you begin your Nielsen TV Diary, you are asked to answer a few generic questions about your household. Things like, how many TV sets are in your home? Is this TV connected to a satellite dish? Would you be interested in a reality show that was called, say for example, Dick Cheney's Prison Camp? I answered yes, although I don't really see how that is relevant.

Once you begin your diary, you learn there is more to it than simply logging the shows you watch. There are columns for "TV set off," "TV on but no one watching/listening," and "TV on but currently surfing porn." Again, I'm not quite sure what they're able to extract from this data. But ours is not to question why.

Let's dig a little deeper now. Beyond the ratings. A quick analysis of my Nielsen TV Viewing Diary reveals some interesting things about me, as a TV viewer, and as a person.

My logging week began this past Thursday at 5 AM. So basically thru five days, I've watched approximately twenty-six hours of television. That's more than five hours per day! As you might imagine, I was shocked to learn I watched this much TV.

Although if you subtract Saturday, when I watched about seven and a half hours of football (and about ten minutes of Cruel Intentions on FX), the average comes down a bit.

Breaking it down further, my twenty-six hours of television has included the following:
- 12 hours of sports or sports-related programming. (Unless you count Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making The Team as sports programming. Then it's 13. And if you count High Stakes Poker as sports, then it's 14.25.)
- 7.5 hours of ESPN or ESPN2 (Included in the above sports total.)
- 4 hours combined between A&E and the History Channel (Cold Case Files, American Justice, Columbine Massacre, and the Manhattan Project.)
- 2.5 hours of General Hospital (Not counting anytime I may or may not have watched at work.)
- 2.5 hours of Seinfeld (Not surprisingly.)

My diary ends Wednesday night. Then it's back to civilian life. But I'm thinking of keeping one for fun after that. It's kinda like Quicken for time management. Find out where all your free time goes.

"Come and knock on our door. We've been waiting for you. Where the kisses are hers and hers and his..."