I’ve been using the phrase “I’ll be there in two shakes” a lot lately. But today I got to wondering how long is that exactly? And what amount of time does two shakes represent? And how do you define two shakes?
I know it’s short for two shakes of a lamb’s tail so that’s a starting point. So then the question is how is two shakes defined? Is it simply the back and forth motion of the tail or is it the act of shaking the tail twice? This could then translate into exponentially large amounts of time depending on how happy said lamb was or which breed of lamb you happen to be speaking of. Do some breeds shake their tail more often? Would a depressed lamb not shake its tail as much? Could I be inadvertently saying I will be there in two shakes of a depressed lamb’s tail and actually never show up at all?!
I’m going to go have a third oatmeal stout and think of this some more. Please feel free to comment with your interpretations. 🙂
I just watched Anderson Cooper’s broadcast reading the names of the victims of the Pulse nightclub shooting. Tears are streaming down my face and I don’t know what to say.
Many of the victims were couples who died together, one was a mom who supported her gay son and went dancing with him often, others reminded me of people I know.
This world sucks. It sucks so bad. But I hope I can do something about it. I can love people. I can stand up for them. I can fight with them. I don’t care if you’re gay, straight, bisexual, asexual, androgynous, gender fluid, lesbian, transsexual, etcetera. I love you. God loves you.
Sweet Jesus I need a hug.
I’ve been okay the past week-ish. Despite the anniversary of my father’s death being this last Friday the creeping darkness I was expecting hasn’t appeared. The sunshine helps. Spend enough time in the sunshine and it burns away a lot of the dark thoughts that follow depression. Not all, but a lot.
I’ve even been able to put away my laundry. THAT is a feat. Of course it helps that I just gave half my closet to goodwill a couple weeks ago.
I decided I hated most of my clothes. I didn’t feel attractive. Hell, I think most of them were there because I liked the idea of that article of clothing but in practice the thing just looked like crap. Purging is good. I think I’ll be getting rid of a lot more of my junk if my motivation keeps up.
I finally made it back to Detroit after 11 months of avoiding it. I sat in the stands at a Tigers game, beer in hand and passive-aggressively berated the rude White Sox fans sitting in front of my group of coworkers. It drizzled. The Tigers won. It was spectacular.
Yes, I was still paranoid I might run into someone I knew but I kept telling myself the chances were slim to none. As the beer flowed, the paranoia flew away replaced with a delightful buzz that convinced me everything would be fine and if needed I could totally kick the ass of anyone who messed with me. I got to pop into the best bakery ever on the way back to the vehicle and the baklava was like a sugar orgasm in my mouth. I missed Detroit.
I’m mostly a hermit unless someone invites me out. I’m never the organizer and it usually takes some convincing to get me to go especially if I have to plan far in advance. I never know what I’ll be feeling on any given day. Nerves set in at a moment’s notice and the urge to renege on my promised attendance is immense. Most instances I’m thinking up excuses on how to get out of a social obligation up until I make my appearance. I feel like a horrible person.
I usually push through my anxiety but mostly I ignore it when I know someone thinks I’m a piece of shit for cancelling. It doesn’t outweigh the relief I feel when I suddenly dint have to suffer through another awkward social encounter. Of course then I wonder why and chide myself over making the plans in the first place.
At any rate this is not what happened a week ago Saturday. In fact, I felt a sense of accomplishment for finally going. (I had six other people with me and totally had contingency plans in place, but hey it still counts right?)
My hermityness (seriously don’t even care that it isn’t an approved Webster’s dictionary word, it describes my situation superbly) can really suck. I beat it with beer and baseball this time.