“You are so young, so before all beginning, and I want to beg you, as much as I can, dear sir, to be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart and to try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the question now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”—Rainer Maria-Rilke, letter to Franz Xaver Kappus, 16 July 1903 (via ashtun)
Today on my lunch break I went to the post office to send a package. When I used my credit card the guy behind the counter asked to see my ID.
"So," he said. "You barely made it in with the good people."
"What’s that?" I asked.
"The good people," he said. "You’re a Capricorn."
"Oh," I said, nodding. "Yeah, I’m right on the line. No one is ever sure whether or not I’m a Capricorn or Aquarius."
"You’re a Capricorn," he said. "I can tell."
I nodded, smiled, and gathered up my things, starting to turn to leave.
"You have one child?" he asked, just as I was about to turn around.
"Um, no," I shook my head. "No kids."
"You do though," he said. "I can tell. I can see these things. You’re a Capricorn with one child. I bet she’s as stubborn as you are."
There was a long line behind me and I could hear a woman literally clearing her throat, obviously irritated by the fact that I was having a reading of my future as she was waiting to send mail. “Nope,” I said. “I don’t have any children.”
He nodded slowly. “Maybe I saw it wrong. Maybe what I saw was that you will have a child. And she’ll be stubborn like you.”
I considered telling him that maybe what he was “seeing” was my dachshund. But frankly by this point I felt that myself and the postal worker’s conversation had already gone a little beyond social norms.
"Probably so!" I said (because what do you say when a random man is calling you stubborn and predicting things about your unborn children?). Then I left the post office and resolved to begin using FedEx more for mailing packages.
“Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma — which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary.”—Steve Jobs (via formyentertainment)
Two friends are having baby showers this week so I spent my lunch break today at a place called Buy Buy Baby becoming very overwhelmed by things like bottle selection and crib sheets. However, I realized two things while I was perusing the store.
1. Babies need A LOT of stuff. Like, if I ever have a baby, I might need to live in a castle. Because otherwise I feel like the baby is going to start taking over all the space and I’ll be like “Where am I going to put all of Rosie’s sweaters?”
2. While I still have to stifle the initial urge to say “Oops! Bad birth control?” when someone tells me they’re pregnant, I do hope to one day have a kid (or like 14. Whatever.). And if that happens, someone is definitely going to have to rein me in from dressing my baby like an animal every single day.
Seriously. This is a risk. I feel like conversations with my husband would go something like this:
Me: Can we put him in the giraffe outfit today? Husband: No. Me: The pig one? Husband: Absolutely not. Me: At the very least, the mouse ears? Husband: We’re getting a divorce.
"He kept texting me late at night so I told him to quit texting and start calling because I couldn’t stay up that late. At which point he told me he was low on minutes. I was like, oh hey, 2002 called and they would like their excuse back."
- A friend shares the story of her current dating endeavors
I like this idea of using totally outdated excuses. “I’d totally date you, but I’m pretty busy reaping the fall harvest.” “Sure, you seem really nice, but I’m already kind of set up for an arranged marriage. “I’d love to meet for drinks, but I haven’t gotten around to getting one of those newfangled automobiles yet.”
So as I mentioned the other day, somewhere out there is a woman who calls herself Tasha who is not pleased with me because of my alleged association with someone named Johnny. But, as she’d only called my cell phone and she’d eventually stopped calling by Wednesday, I wasn’t really worried about it.
Then, yesterday, my parents told me that they’d gotten a call around 1 a.m. (Tasha’s preferred calling time) from a woman who sounded as I’d described Tasha asking to speak to Sarah. Since I haven’t lived with them in ten years, my mom said I wasn’t there. And then she asked why she was calling. She said she had the wrong number and hung up.
So yeah, it’d be really nice if at some point in the near future Tasha realized she has the wrong person. Because she’s starting to come across as being a little more crazy than I’m comfortable with.
This morning when I woke up I saw that I had three missed calls from a “Blocked” number on my phone, all from between the hours of 1 and 3 a.m. I thought it was weird, but forgot about it until about an hour ago when my phone started buzzing with a blocked number. I picked up.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"This is Tasha," she said. "Who is this?"
"I think you have the wrong number," I said.
"I think you’re wrong. I know who I’m calling," she said, clearly angry.
And then she hung up.
Five minutes later, she called back. By now, my curiosity was piqued.
"I really think you have the wrong number," I said.
"No," she said. "I definitely don’t."
"How can I help you then?" I asked.
"I want you to stay the hell away from Johnny," she said.
"I don’t even know a Johnny!" I said.
"DON’T LIE TO ME!" she screamed.
And then hung up again. She’s now called back four times. I’m torn between being curious enough to pick up and see where this goes and being somewhat fearful that Tasha is going to track me down and kill me. Also, I’m at work. So I probably shouldn’t just be chatting with crazy women on the phone all day.
“Also, what is your SSN? And, I have this nigerian uncle who died and left us a great deal of money, all I need is the rest of your personal info., and we can be rish. 140 million dollar.”—My brother needed some information from me for some forms. He felt this was the appropriate message to send via email to ask for it.
This Esquire piece about what guys should order on dates is pretty amusing. I don’t fully subscribe to all of it (namely, if a guy ordered an old-fashioned, fruit withheld I would think “pretentious” before I thought “attractive”), but seriously, a vodka soda? That’s grounds for leaving immediately.
I thought this was a pretty valid question so I posed it to Pawley and Rosie. Their responses are below:
Pawley: "Sense Im only lik 5 in human yeers, Im not so gud with the spelleng and that mite be bad for the blog. Also, Im prity bizy doin other stuf like cheewing up my mom’s shoes, ovin mitts, books, pens, rugs, tables, dors, house, couch, chairs, magasines, clothes, and other stuff. Do yu think I could cheew up a blog?"
Rosie: "I’ve considered blogging in the past. I have excellent writing skills, a creative imagination, and am generally brilliant. Unfortunately, the whole lack of opposable thumbs thing has been a real hindrance when it comes to my typing. If I were to start a blog though, it would probably be called something along the lines of ‘Why the F*** Did My Mom Get This Other Dog.’ So, it might not be suitable for children—or Pawley—to read. It would mostly be tales about how Pawley chews on my neck all the time and how that makes me very suspicious she’s trying to kill me.
I might also blog a little bit about how much I like table scraps and rawhide. In fact, that’s probably would I should do. It would be like a niche blog for the canine readership in which I’m a food blogger who only talks about table scraps. I mean, I could write an ode right now to the leftover spaghetti sauce my mom gave me last week. Hmmm… I may be willing to consider this…”