Transient Beauty

There is a tree that I used to pass when I’d park at the church and walk to school. It flowered with these gorgeous fuchsia blooms. I have no idea what kind of tree it was, but those flowers were amazing. One day, on my way to class, I walked past that tree and saw a blanket of petals on the ground underneath it. I remember thinking that it looked like an Indian blanket or a silk scarf, those petals blanketing the ground with piece of grass poking through the pink. The very next day when I walked past, the petals had withered into tiny, brown curls. The silk scarf was gone replaced by a mat of crisp, dead leaves. At first, I felt a little sad. But when you think about it, it was there for such a short time that maybe I was lucky to have seen it at all.

I woke up around 9 a.m. on a Saturday a couple weeks ago. On my way to the bathroom, I looked out into the living room. I thought for a second that I had left a light on overnight; the room was so bright. The whole room was glowing with the warmest yellow light I’ve ever seen. The walls were painted a buttery gold. The sun pushed through every inch of my Venetian blinds and coated the room in sweet honey-colored daylight. I stood in the doorway for a second, just enjoying the warmth of that morning. When I got out of the shower, the living room had faded into a blue gray with no trace of that brilliant amber that had hung on the walls just a few minutes before. I was lucky to have seen it at all.

I don’t consider this an epiphany or anything, but it has made me think. I’m not re-evaluating my life or contemplating dropping everything to stop and smell the roses, but it does make me a little more aware of what I could be missing when I’m not looking around.

But even if I don’t find those fleeting, catch-your-breath beautiful moments every day, I still think that I’m lucky to have seen any at all.

Turkey Day

I was slightly anti-social yesterday, and it was fantastic. Instead of doing the normal family- and turkey-filled holiday, I dusted my apartment, set up my Christmas tree, and watched movies. I also ate ice cream before noon, wore my pajamas until well after noon, and ate reheated Chinese food as Thanksgiving dinner. While that may look slightly depressing in print, it was fabulous in reality.

Katie told me that she decided (yesterday morning) that she doesn’t like the word Thanksgiving (note that deciding to hate the word “Thanksgiving” on Thanksgiving is a little inconvenient). She has adopting “Happy Holidays” or just “Have a great day” instead of “Happy Thanksgiving.” If you give her the old “Happy Thanksgiving” first, she’ll shoot back with “You too.” I really like the idea of randomly choosing not to use traditional holiday greetings on that specific day. Notice how I use the word Thanksgiving five times (oops, that made six) in a paragraph where I praise Katie for boycotting the word. Guess I’m still not ready to give it up.

One thing I’m noticed about being anti-social during the holidays (this is my first anti-social holiday, so I definitely noticed some things) is that people call you a lot when you are being anti-social. This probably doesn’t happen for hermits or people who live in caves, but if you are a nice girl who generally doesn’t like to hanG out alone, then people call you when you are being anti-social. It was great. I felt very loved.

So Happy Thanksgiving everyone (and, uh, Happy Holidays, Katie)

PTS

The biggest shopping day of the year, the day after Thanksgiving, is fast approaching. I, for one, am getting ready. I’m setting my alarm for 4 a.m. to get used to the early start I’ll need to get that morning. I’m doing daily stretching exercises. I pushed an old lady down in Wal-Mart last night, just to practice for the big day.

Ok, none of that is totally true (or even slightly true), but I am planning on shopping on Friday. I’m posting this blog as a pre-Thanksgiving public service announcement for those of you who don’t know what this day is all about.

Post-Thanksgiving Shopping (or PTS) is an art, a dance maybe. The first step in being a strong PTSer is planning, or choreography (if I am going to stick with that dance analogy). PTS requires extensive research that involves the Thanksgiving newspaper, massive amounts of floor space to spread out ads, and a pen and notebook. On Thanksgiving day, while the non-PTSers are sleeping or watching football, settle down with the newspaper (and maybe another slice of pumpkin pie. You will need your strength tomorrow.)

Scour the ads. Read every inch of every flier. Keep your eyes open for the free-after-rebate items. Note store hours. Note sale hours (since store sometimes offer extra discounts during different hours). Note the giveaways. Save JC Penney’s for midmorning – they pass out chocolate, and again, you will need your strength. Make lists. Lists are essential to PTS. List the items that you want to pick up, the stores that you need to visit, the hours that you need to meet, and your order of attack. Are you taking notes?

Don’t assume that your favorite store should be your first stop. You can’t know this until you’ve done the research. Sure, you generally buy your DVDs at one particular place, but until you’ve exhausted the ads, you don’t know if that is where you’ll be getting DVDs tomorrow. Be smart; a little research today can save you time and money tomorrow.

I am a firm believer that to be a really effective PTSer, you need to shop tag-team style, so if possible, recruit a friend. Be aware of their stamina and their ability to recognize a good deal. Don’t tie yourself down with what will be a namby pamby shopping partner. PTS is better alone than with a whiner.

A PTS buddy allows one person to shop (notice I say “shop” and not “browse.” There’s no browsing in PTS) while the other stands in line. This is especially useful for the early morning hits and electronic stores. Lines form instantly when stores open or when electronics are involved. Knowing your ads, consulting your lists, and having the appropriate buddy can make you a force to be reckoned with at the sales. Don’t underestimate the power of shopping with a strategy.

Your first stop (and probably your second and third) will need to happen in rapid succession (as rapid a succession as can occur when you are 50th in line to checkout). Later in the day, the pace calms slightly. Now, you will be allowed a little more time to browse. The weaklings will be dropping out by then leaving only the late risers (pansies) and the hardcore PTSers (my friend Valarie is included in this last group. She and her aunt start before the sun rises on Friday and finish in the wee hours of Saturday morning. That is one hell of a shopper. ) Feel free to take a little more time in the stores in the afternoon. Look around. Branch out from the ads. Go back to JC Penney’s and get more chocolate.

So after all my strategizing and my planning on how to make the most of my PTS time since I have to work Friday, I got a call from my brother. Did you know that those PTS deals are valid online?

Geek Chic

Is it just me, or are nerds cool these days? Geekiness is increasing in popularity. Being a nerd is going mainstream, and people are really embracing all that is dorky.

Nerd pride is sprouting up in the least expected places. Chick lit (the literary equivalent of the chick flick) has finally recognized the nerd-loving market. You know dorkiness is trendy when they start writing romance novels about it. For those that like to display their nerdhood in gold or silver, there is jewelry for every nerd occasion - for making the subtle or the not-so-subtle statement. Dorks have a new uniform with a variety of clothing options for outerwear and even underwear. Even the artists are flaunting their geekocity. Whether musically or otherwise, nerdiness is infiltrating every aspect of our lives. I, for one, like it.

Best Buy started its own Geek Squad. Dweebs on the move in a nerd version of the Batmobile. Electronic-age superheros. Instead of a utility belt, they wear pocket protectors. Instead of masks, they wear Harry Potter glasses. Women swoon over their computer-maintenance prowess. (Wait, is that women, or just me?) There is no shame is driving the souped up VW Beetle with “Geek Squad” proudly blazing down the side. The slogan on the Web site is “Available 24/7. We don’t date.” So am I wrong, or are dorks on the rise?

I, for one, have my fingers crossed that this trend with continue. I think we could all use a little more nerd.

Cubicle-Induced Evolution

Now that I have graduated and moved to the Real World, I noticed an interesting phenomenon. I think that my observations could be developed into some very important and revolutionary scientific work, but until that time, I will share it with you. This is really cutting edge stuff. I haven’t released my findings to the major journals, but just wait; soon you’ll be reading about Paige’s Theory of Cubicle-Induced Evolution in all the best scientific mags.

The basic theory is this: Modern office workers are adapting stronger senses stemming from the sensory deprivation associated with working in a cubicle. Instead of functioning with senses like those of other humans, these evolving office workers are relying more on other senses to stay aware even while constrained to the cubicle.

Let me explain. The modern office worker’s ears are finely tuned to recognize the slightest whisper from over the cubicle wall. Over time, the ears are trained to perk up at the first syllable whispered within an area three or four cubicles square. This reaction is intensified if the whispered conversation involves the name of the evolved office worker. This reaction can be slightly more advanced for specific evolved office workers (for instance, those named Paige) who are more likely to hear their name in conversation in the office. For example, “Did you go to the Web page?” “Wait a minute, I don’t have page 2.” “He might call back; I just had to page him.”

The evolved office worker quickly learns to identify co-workers by voice and catch phrase. Even bodily noises; sneezes, burps and the occasional fart can be used to identify others in the office. Sighs can identify a co-worker sight unseen. The subtle differences in footsteps can be analyzed to not only identify the person approaching, but calculate his rate of speed and estimate time of arrival at my cubicle.

I've also noticed during my research that it is possible to determine the mood of others in the office with this superworker perception. The sharp intake of air from the guy in the next cubicle is a sure indication that he is stressed. The guy one cube down and two over murmurs when content. The guy all the way across the room swears quietly (like a sailor) when frustrated and swears triumphantly (like a happy sailor) when successful. The guy in the cube around the corner paces when deep in thought, and the guy in the cubicle diagonally across from mine taps his toes when anxious. It's best not to approach the boss when he breathes loudly through his nose (a sure sign he's unhappy).

Even the sense of smell can become stronger when confined to a cubicle. I know that when the guy in the corner smells like reheated Chinese food that he is in the doghouse, and his wife is refusing to bring him lunch at work. The scent of Nutterbutters coming from the cubicle two aisles over means a busy day for the guy who is skipping lunch and snacking from the vending machine.

The only downfall for this evolved office worker is the fact that despite all the other super strong senses, I'm still not totally sure if the vaguely familiar guy I passed at the grocery store works in my office.

An inch of tissues

The girl in the next cubicle asked me for a Kleenex today. "Just one?" I asked. "I have a whole box, you can take an inch." She stared at me quizzically in our very quiet office. "An inch?" she whispered. I put my index finger and thumb an inch apart and mimed pinching an inch worth of tissues from my very full, brand new box of Puffs. She smiled, and took an inch of tissues. It is a perfectly acceptable unit of measure for tissues, I think.

Crackerbarrel sells measuring spoons labeled a "smidgen" and a "pinch." A friend told me that he takes a "spot" of honey in his tea. All perfectly acceptable, if slightly unmeasurable, units of measure. My favorite, though, has to be...

There are billboards on I-75 between Orlando and Gainesville for a place that sells Towels by the Pound. I am totally and absolutely fascinated by this place. Three dollars and ninety nine cents for a pound of towels. It brings up so many questions in my mind. Is that a good deal for towels? How much does my towel weigh? How thick are these towels? What size of towels are sold by the pound?

I find a pound of towels very appealing, more for the comedic value after purchase. When a friend comes to visit and forgets a towel, I can say, "Don't worry, I have a pound of towels you can borrow." If something spilled, I could say, "Don't worry, a pound of towels would clean that right up." After buying towels by the pound, I would be armed with all sorts of odd trivia like how many kitchen towels make up a pound or the exact weight of my own hand towels. Each time I passed those I-75 billboards, I imagined the day when I'd actually stop and buy a pound of towels.

I did stop once, and to my dismay, I still don't know the weight of my towels. I can't offer my guests a pound of fresh terry cloth. I didn't buy a pound of anything at this place. What the billboards didn't say was that at this same fine establishment where you could buy a pound of towels, you could buy 10 Florida t-shirts for $5 and small plastic figurines of dolphins by the truckload. The entire place was so tacky, that my dreams of pounds of towels were dashed. The pound-of -towels tables were stacked high with merchandise, but I just couldn't get past the plastic dolphins.

I had that same problem with a roommate once, just couldn't get past the plastic dolphins.

One chance to make a first impression

Well, I've done it. I'm officially a blogger. I hope this doesn't mean that I will write endlessly for a Web site with three devoted readers forgoing a future where the masses clamor for my books. I hope I dont' use up all my cleverness blogging and have nothing left for publication. Let's just assume that if my blog gets boring, it is because I am saving the good stuff for my novel.

Yeah, that's it, I'm saving the good stuff for my novel.