The truth will set you free…

Recently I’ve found myself addicted to a show I found on NetFlix. Living without cable for the past decade or so I find that not only do I not watch tv (duh) but it also takes quite a bit for a show to really hold my interest – this one definitely has. To the point where I’ve added the first few seasons to my instant queue, and have managed to watch just about a whole season over the course of the past week or so. It’s called “Destination Truth,” & not only is the main host damn near irresistible what with his quick wit, adventurous nature, & adorable dimples – but the premise of each hour long episode really got under my skin. Basically, their team of 5 travel around the world, stopping in different counties, interviewing the locals, & investigating different mythilogical creatues/beings, & mysterious happenings. While I’ve always been intrigued by the awkward, the supernatural, & the just plain “odd” – what really got me thinking was their intention – to seek out the truth, wherever it is they go, whoever it is they’re working with – what they’re pursuing is the truth.

It started me thinking…If I was given the opportunity, where would I go, who would I talk to, and what kind of truth would I seek out? Would I look for the meaning of life, the fountain of youth, the purple people eater, the secret of happiness, how to live a fulfilled life… Or would I pursue something more mundane – such as how to keep the noodles from sticking together in leftover spaghetti & continue blindly on my wayward path through the dense forest of life? Learning lessons, making friends, & growing as I progress in whatever direction I choose…. eventually discovering my own truth.

~ m

MáS QuEsO PoR FaVoR!!!

I’ve always been really good at remembering peoples names & faces – but I find myself creating nicknames that will help my friends & family easily recall who it is I’m talking about. From my high school choirmates (saggy boob girl, homeschooled chick…), to coworkers (poof bangs, crackwhore…), ex-boyfriends (nose picker, shortboy, crapped his pants, proposed on thanksgiving, etc – all ex’s for obvious reasons), family members (these I won’t list because, well… ), the lists go on. I often wonder, what kind of nicknames have people given me behind my back? I know I have one friend that always called me boobs (heck – it’s better than saggy boob girl, so I’ll take it) – I also have a few clients that call me tatts or butterfly (both for obvious reasons once you’ve met me & again neither offensive)… I always wonder though… what are the personality cues people use to remember me that perhaps they wouldn’t want me to hear?…

Even better than nicknames are the fun stories I create for people I don’t know & in most situations, don’t really want to know – like some of my neighbors. I moved into a new fourplex a few months back – I love it – location is great, more space than my last place, quiter neighborhood (for the most part)… not to mention the perk of having such a vast array of over the top neighbors to observe. For example – the family living below me is of the Hispanic variety. Mom (doesn’t like me much), Dad (quasi attractive & likes me some), & 3 youngins (like me too much). They’ve (unknowningly) introduced me to some personality traits that I had been unaware of before – such as the fact that when speaking Spanish, it’s best to yell at the top of your lungs as if you were hoping to scare the shit out of a small child – this rule applies whether you’re discussing dinner, singing along with the radio, coddling your baby, or speaking on the phone. Here I’d always thought Germans were the angry ones. You can only imagine the life stories I’ve created for their dysfunctional little family – mainly because I can hear every word they say – but can’t understand a damned thing!