Mundy Monday

February 27, 2012

Goal for this week: WRITE A POST FOR EACH DAY OF THE WEEK.

Secondary goal for this week: GIVE ALL THOSE POSTS ALLITERATIVE TITLES.

So I found out something about myself today. I’m like a pickle jar.

Now here comes the very complicated explanation of what that actually means. I’ll also be sure to not directly tell you, but only provide you with a short story and follow that up with me freaking out about the story in a fairly scatterbrained manner. Okay?

Here’s the scene. I’m playing a game on the internet (using my time wisely) and I get a call on the phone from my father. He’s just wanting to ask me a few things on some random topics. He also mentions to me that I have a cousin that has a blog.

I tense as I hear the word. NO I think to myself. THERE CAN’T BE ANOTHER. WHAT IF THEY FIND ME?

“Oh yeah?” I said, acting like I didn’t really understand these foreign words. “That’s nice.” I tried to make sure my voice was level.

“Yeah, it is,” he said. “She writes very well. You should check it out.”

I commented that I would check it out sometime. We said our goodbyes and he went off think everything was all hunky-dory.

As I hung up I immediately typed it in and checked it out.

I hawked down every pixel on that blog. Every. Single. One.

And to be fair, it really was a nice little thing she had made. I hope the best for her. But it’s one of those fancy upgraded WordPress blogs that you pay so much for a domain name and other features.

Oh no…

Not only is she blogging…she’s in my neighborhood. Us Bancrofts seem to have similar taste in our blogging preferences.

Now I feel a little…cooped up.

Why?

Well that’s because I keep this blog a secret from every person I actually know. I don’t want them to know. I don’t even want them to suspect that I may or may not have an online affiliated hobby. I don’t even want them to know I know what a blog is….

This is the point where you start to question my sanity, and rightfully so. A normal person should not feel weird at all right now. Oh, somebody I know has a blog. No biggie. Those are normal thoughts.

But for me this is different. For me this little splotch on the interwebs is my person sanctuary. It’s a relief from the world. It’s a place where I can put my thoughts on electronic paper and file them away. Hey, I might even get some people to comment on those ideas I share.

I can practice writing  and feel safe…

So, in my own messed up way, this is almost an attack on my safe place.

I’m imagining a field of full of colorful wildflowers and a great big oak tree with branches so low you can hop up and sit on them. The summer breeze would ruffle your clothes and weave throughout your bare toes as you relax. life is good.

Now imagine a Transformers battle taking place while you rest. Yeah, that’s what i’m talking about.

So, how am I like a pickle jar? 

Well, this place is still a secret. STILL. Despite everything my ego wants from me.

I kind of secretly want recognition for my kind-of-sort-of-mildly-entertaining-place-of-residence-on-the-internet. I have a fantasy of building this place up into some very popular internet page and some of my friends and family stumble across it and find themselves very amused. Then they read more and more and realize that this D.A. fellow sounds a lot like …

:::gasp:::

Then they immediately phone me and I try to act all casual. “Nah, it’s not me, but i’ve seen that site before.” I say, hoping to blow off their suspicions.  “Yeah, I read some of his books. They’re pretty funny/thoughtful/well written.”

Then they begin a compulsive investigation of myself and how I get my money. Since my blog and susequent writings have become so popular and I’ve been published many times I will no longer need to work, they will start to wonder why I stopped teaching. All I seem to do is sit in my house all day and play video games. (Maybe I’ll claim I made some good investments in some major companies on the stock market.)

Then one day they will provide me with the documented evidence of my workings. They will point the finger at me and say “Your are D.A. Bancroft!” I will lower my head as if in defeat. The game has been lost.

But I still won.

Yes, a big dichotomy. I want recognition. I want invisibility. Kind of reminds me of this guy…

I guess I should explain who this is…

This the The Grand Galactic Inquisitor. He is a giant humanoid that seemingly has a mastery over time and space, but he is also trying to observe things while hoping people just ignore him. Maybe simply can’t do such a thing…so he screams at the top of his voice box “IGNORE ME!”.

Okay, okay. Maybe I’m blowing this whole thing out of perspective a little bit…

I guess if people found out who I am…it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. And I’m sure my family would give about zero and a half craps about what I write on here. My friends my give three fourths of a crap.

My point still stands. This is a place for me. Just me trying to do my thing… whatever that may be.

And I’m not going to apologize for blowing that whole thing up…

Didn’t you want to read something dramatic and entertaining? I’m trying to do that for you. Don’t you kind of wish you could watch my words as I slip into a mental breakdown? That would be outrageously entertaining.

Maybe I would start to really believe I AM D.A. Bancroft. I start becoming… a new person. I speak with more certainty. I use bigger words. I start wearing a sweater all the time. Creepy stuff.

I mean…that would be entertaining… right?

But for now…I’ll just keep the lid on this whole thing. Just like that pickle jar.

D.A.

P.S. Just realized that jars of jelly are much more difficult to open. So…reread this entire thing, but substitute the word pickle with jelly.

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One Of My Strangest Fears

September 28, 2011

There have been so many situations in my life where I have become stricken with deep fear.

Riding that roller coaster (never again), riding a ski-lift, being left alone at the mall by my mom (probably on purpose), meeting Barney the Dinosaur at that same mall… There are all kinds of moments. But one moment seems to pop up more often than I would prefer (like I would prefer to keep running into Barney, right?)

It’s a fear that causes me to stop all rational thought and panic. It’s a fear that I speak about only in hushed whispers. It’s a fear that makes me feel like I have some deep-seeded emotions that I haven’t yet discovered.

So I might as well make a blog post about it. Then some psychopath will find out who I am, kidnap me, drug me, and make me perform tasks associated with my fear for his entertainment. A-la Saw.

I have a real fear of my teeth falling out.

Allow me to make a distinction. No, I don’t expect to find myself walking into a dentist’s office with all of my teeth in a cup of milk (not sure if this works or not) because I tried chewing a Jawbreaker. And no, I don’t think my teeth are rotting away and will eventually fall out. (I keep imaging something along the lines of meth mouth.)

(Word to the wise: If you Google search ‘meth mouth’ you will see some very disturbing things. View at your own risk.)

Since this usually happens in the morning I always end up freaking out more than I should. My brain isn’t working quite right yet. Feelings are a little distorted at that time of the day. There are still occasions where this has happened during the day, when I’m more than awake, but these are quite rare. It usually involves me mistakenly chewing on a fork or something.

I should also preface this description with an explanation of a habit of mine. I am always using my tongue to feel my teeth. It’s constant. When I’m not doing anything, I’m feeling my front right bottom incisor tooth. I have this little sharp part that I imagine I’m sanding down over time. (In all reality I’m probably just scraping up my tongue, but no matter.)

When I was younger I did this in a much more obvious manner. I might use my fingers or chewing gum to make marks of how big my teeth had grown (after I lost my baby teeth of course.)

I guess the habit just stuck over the years.

And before your imagination runs away with this very private detail of my life, I don’t do it in an obvious way. I do it with my mouth closed and it can’t been seen. (I’m certain it can’t be seen.) So don’t go thinking that I stand there talking to people with my mouth agape and you see my teeth getting lashed.

Anyway! 

I usually wake up with the notion that I haven’t had incisors for the past 3 years. They have been taken out for some…experiment or something. Then I run my tongue over my teeth for a few seconds and actually feel gaps! Oh no! It’s like my brain is pulling one over on me. Then when I start to panic and look around on my bedspread for my teeth. I don’t find them. Then I end up reaching into my mouth with my hand only to be relieved that they are still there.

You win again Brain…

I’m sure none of you wanted to learn this about me today.

I’m also sure some of you have run your tongue over your teeth while reading this.

Are they all there? Anything missing? Did you count? Find any sharp points?

Oh, in a related note, I sometimes get the sensation that my teeth are “loose”. As in not in the proper positions and have shifted. I can then poke them and it feels like they are swaying side to side. Then I eat something and the sensation disappears. Weird stuff, I know.

So, since I shared some odd habits/details of my life, now it’s your turn.

Do you have any strange fears? Funny habits? Odd thoughts? 

Just checked his teeth again,

D.A.