I’ve been relatively scatterbrained this week, and I don’t have anything big and important and deep to report. However, you guys seem to enjoy the random ramblings of my brain, and as always, I have an overabundance of those to share. So here you have it: some completely random stuff I’ve been thinking about lately.
1) Every time I hear “Call Me Maybe,” I have the same thought: what’s so crazy about giving your number to someone you just met and asking him to possibly call you? Isn’t that called “dating?” Haven’t people been doing this since the dawn of time? (Or, you know, the dawn of phones?) I’ll concede that it’s crazy to walk up to someone you have NOT met and give him your number, but that’s not what we’re dealing with, here.
2) I was watching synchronized swimming the other day, and I noticed that the girls don’t wear goggles, yet they all have their eyes open underwater the whole time. Synchronized swimming is a pretty precise sport, and presumably some of those girls need vision correction. Are they wearing contacts underwater? Wouldn’t they lose them? Are there special underwater contacts? Have they all had Lasik? Or is being a synchronized swimmer like being an astronaut or a fighter pilot, and you have to have perfect vision to do it?
3) In other Olympic musings, how do people like discus-throwers and pole-vaulters get started in their sports? Like, I can see how parents would be able to tell really early that a kid would be good at swimming or gymnastics. But who gives a kid a discus for fun? I don’t think I’ve ever held a discus. What if I have amazing, latent discus-throwing abilities and I’ll never know about them because I’m never given the opportunity to try? So much untapped potential! (N.B. I am positive I do not have latent discus-throwing abilities. I am so weak it’s ridiculous. I have trouble lifting my suitcase into the overhead compartment.)
4) If I had a projector, and it was raining really hard, could I project movies onto the rain?
5) My skin is approximately the same color as White Out, and in the summer, I’m only safe in the sun for about five minutes before I start to burn. But are sunburns cumulative, or does my skin reset every time I spend some time inside? I definitely couldn’t be in the sun for forty continuous minutes, but could I be in the sun for eight five-minute periods with inside time in between? I guess I could test this theory, but I’m not a big fan of skin cancer.
6) Whenever I tell a non-writer that I’m a writer, their first question is, “Oh, have you read Fifty Shades of Grey?” Can someone please explain to me why this happens? They don’t want to know if my writing resembles Fifty Shades (though I do often get asked that about Twilight/The Hunger Games/Harry Potter.) They just want to know if I’ve READ it. Before Fifty Shades was out, it’s not like people were going, “Oh, you’re a writer? Have you read To Kill a Mockingbird?” Is it because Fifty Shades is the only book most people have read recently, and they’re trying to relate to me? Because that just depresses the hell out of me. (The answer, in case you’re wondering, is no. I have not read Fifty Shades. I have read To Kill a Mockingbird and would be delighted to discuss it with you.)
7) I saw “Sleepwalk with Me” this week, which is a wonderful film by (and starring) Mike Birbiglia. Mike has REM Behavioral Disorder, which causes him to act out his dreams while he’s sleeping. This is really harmful if you have dreams about climbing on things or driving or killing people, and Mike sleeps in a sleeping bag up to his neck and wears mittens all night to prevent him from unzipping the sleeping bag. But lots of people have really mundane dreams about doing everyday activities, like dishes. If you were one of those people, and you had REM Behavioral Disorder, could you actually do chores or get work done while asleep? That would be so productive. And I would love to be unconscious while changing the cat litter.
8) That being said, I learned a valuable lesson about trying to write while asleep this week. A few nights ago, I sat bolt upright in the middle of the night, convinced I had thought of the best metaphor ever to be written in the history of the world. I texted it to myself and then fell right back asleep. In the morning, I looked at my phone and found a text that said, “He had a voice that wore mirrored sunglasses.” Umm… what? If anyone knows what that means, please let me know. I am at a loss.
And now, in the spirit of randomness, here is a picture of a neon chicken in a train station during Carnival:
Happy Monday, everyone.