a drawer full of unmatched socks and other great mysteries of life

This morning, I decided to wear socks. It is, however, becoming more and more of a decision, especially when summer, disguised as spring, is already here in the South. (I did pass a billboard the other day that read, “Summer is almost here.” Spring started a week ago, people!)

I am a lover of summer, don’t get me wrong, but in all honesty, I prefer socks to bare feet. I wear socks even around the house. I usually wear socks to bed. My mother can attest to the fact that sometimes I even wear socks outside just because I don’t want to take them off. But socks, much like the Grand Canyon’s formation, are one of the great mysteries of life.

Back at home, we have twice as many baskets for unmatched socks as for the matches. Maybe we should opt for a sock display like this one?

I can give the closest attention to getting each sock in the same load of laundry as its coordinating sock, but regardless, when I shuffle through my drawers on days like today, matches are few and far between. I pulled out about seven individual socks this morning before finding one pair, and of course it was a hole-y pair with non-stretch itchiness.

the challenge

Start a blog about the great mysteries of life, those things that baffle you or leave you in awe. Some, to be sure, are mundane, while others are more extraordinary. Include comments and details about why these mysteries are so . . . mysterious.

possible blog names

  • MysteriesOfLife
  • MatchlessSocks
  • MysteriousToDelirious
  • SockStealingElves
Advertisements

original interactive artwork

Someone should start a blog showcasing their original interactive artwork, artwork “with purpose.” I don’t mean that art doesn’t have purpose of its own volition (The scholarly debate on this subject is too extensive to go into.), but what I mean is if the art also had user-interactive purpose. A blog of this kind could provide optical illusion artwork, or artwork with hidden items (like the I Spy and Where’s Waldo? series we loved as children). Or mazes!

Mazes are these manipulated confines for getting lost in, just so you can know the joy of being found, or unlost. Isn’t it interesting how much we hate the feeling of being lost in a crowd or in an unfamiliar place, but when we go through life-size mazes, we get lost on purpose. We can’t see beyond the walls, or in some cases, rows of corn. We know where we are trying to get to, and yet we’ve never reached that end.

On-paper (or in this case, on-screen mazes) are a little less intimidating. In fact, some individuals throughout the long ages of maze existence (but I’m certain not you, dear readers) have cheated and started at the end, working their way to the start. But when you think of it, that doesn’t make the adventure any easier, because you still know one point and not how to get to the other point until trial-and-error does its magic.

The example blog I am sharing was actually the inspiration for this post, so I give a friendly blogger shoutout to mazeingpuzzles and encourage you to drop by the site to see more original, artsy mazes like the one above.

irony

Someone should start a blog about irony . . .

Did you get the concept of irony the first time your high school English class delved into it? I’m not sure I did, and it never helped that most of the scenarios in the song “Ironic” by Alanis Morisette aren’t really ironic, but just terribly unfortunate (like “a death row pardon two minutes too late” or “rain on your wedding day”).

Ironic situations or statements are ironic because they are different than what you would expect to happen, or they take on a different meaning than was intended. But irony isn’t just for the stage or the story. Irony happens every day, and I enjoy finding it.

When I was student teaching, I called upon students for their best real-life examples of irony. One of my students said that his family member had lit some relaxation candles and left the house. They ended up burning down the house. I don’t guess they had the desired affect. (My own example of irony is terribly unfortunate as well, huh?)

Don't bet your bottom dollar on relaxation candles if irony has anything to do with it.

Someone should start a blog about the ironies they experience in life, the funny connections, and unexpected turn of events. One of my favorite sites on irony (since I have a category of favorite sites on irony and all) is Isitironic.com, where viewers can submit ironic experiences and examples and then vote on the best ones.

So, what would you rate my example of irony (based on a true story)?

This past week, I switched to a new moisturizer. It dried out my skin.

everyday parables, or the green bag with a hole (part 2)

Someone should start a blog about everyday parables . . .

(This post is the second part of an earlier post, so make sure you read the other first.)

Holey-Green Bag Experience #2: I have this nice over-the-shoulder pine green bag. We’ve had it in the family for a long time, because I remember using it to carry my books to piano lessons years ago.

This bag made its way with me to college. I’ve used it over the last few semesters to carry books, as well as strange things you wouldn’t expect a college student to carry. It’s been a loyal green bag, although it’s never made me rich (like my previous green bag).

The other day, however, I noticed this small lump of string hanging down from one side of the bag. It seemed to be coming from the other side of the zipper. Oh, it looked just lonesome and needing to be cut. So I whipped out the scissors and chopped off that loose, unneeded (so I thought) assembly of string.

A day or so later, I was carrying the bag again, only to look down and see that a huge hole had formed in the very spot where I’d cut the string! Oh my. Another holey green bag in my life. And in that moment, I knew the moral to this green bag experience: don’t be quick to get rid of things you believe are unneeded, because they may be the very things that are holding the fabric together.

Here are some pictures of my holey green bag. I like how they look like abstract art! (I think it’s just because I didn’t use flash.)

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

everyday parables, or the green bag with a hole (part 1)

Someone should start a blog about everyday parables . . .

In the course of my life, I’ve had two significant experiences with hole-y green bags. One could pose the theory that my luck with green bags is pretty bad, and that may be true. I, in fact, have a theory about green water bottles, because every green water bottle I’ve ever possessed has lasted about a week, maybe a  little more, maybe a little less. I lose them or drop them or both. Green water bottles are quite unlucky. Regardless of these traumatic green-item experiences, green continues to be my favorite color.

Holey-Green Bag Experience #1: When I was just a youngster, maybe in the first or second grade, I owned a lime green fanny pack (yes, I grew up in the 90s) with my name magic-markered across the front. It was a handy little thing that my mom bought for me to take on field trips, and I must admit that I believed I was stylin’ with that thing snapped around my waist.

But one day, I was just carrying it around the house, when I decided to count all the money I had (which, as I’m sure you know, for a first or second grader, that is not very much). I was dealing mostly with change. Okay, mostly with pennies to be exact. So there I was, walking down the hallway of our house, and as I counted the coins, I would put them into the fanny pack. Suddenly, I noticed a trail of coins behind me. What luck! I was getting richer by the minute. So I snatched up those newfound coins and put them into my fanny pack as well. And what do you know, I kept finding more coins.

It took a significant amount of time (which I’d like to blame completely on my inexperienced youth, but those who know me well may reveal that I’m still not always that sharp) before I realized that the new money was really old money that was falling out of my fanny pack, which had developed a hole in the bottom of its larger compartment. There I was, thinking I’d struck gold and would soon be the richest eight year old on the block. But, alas, it wasn’t the case.

So, wouldn’t it be cool for someone to start a blog about everyday parables in their lives? If this were my parable, and I had a “moral of the story,” I suppose it’s quite a universal lesson: you can’t hold on to riches (they’ll fall through the holes, or you’ll spend them), and the things you can buy with money don’t last forever (like green fanny packs and water bottles).

My next post will be part two, with my more recent holey-green bag experience. So stay tuned.

On our next episode: my more recent holey-green bag parable.

real moments

Somebody should start a blog about real moments . . .

(Warning/Disclaimer/Preface: This post is highly philosophical in nature, more so than most previous posts. It is not very humorous or knee-slappingly funny, but it was something I had to write about. End of disclaimer.) 

Do you ever have those moments when life is finally so real? You realize something. You experience something. You feel taken aback. Or amazed. Or alive for the first time. All of a sudden, the shams of your “existence” don’t withstand or last or satisfy or matter. You’ve stolen a glance at a massive shiver of light, albeit through the cracks of walls erected between you and eternity.

Real moments are like spotlights in an otherwise dark theatre.

It happens when I have a late night walk with friends. Or listen to certain songs on repeat for indefinite time. Or have an ephiphany – even minor characters can have them. Or something happens that is unbelievable for the cynics and those who believe in luck or chance, or their children coincidence and accident. It happens when I’m running “late,” only to cross paths with someone, and one of us desperately needed to see the other.

Sometimes it’s felt through words on a page, in a story, on a song sheet. Today, my real moment was here:

“Sometimes it seems like the most real thing is what we can see and experience with our senses around us – this life, the tangible . . . Ideas like love, like God – these things sometimes feel more disconnected and ethereal, like that’s the ghostly realm. But what if that’s wrong, and God and love is actually what is most real, and we are more like ghosts walking upon the earth, hoping to become more real?” – Michael Gungor

Someone should start a blog about those moments, the real moments when we feel life and, even if but for a moment, become real ourselves.