Typicality

“I’ve always believed that you were meant for an atypical life.”

Someone told me the above the other day. I like it. I've never wanted to be typical.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. The typical life is a beautiful thing about who we are as a people. It's foundation and core and society. But maybe it’s not meant for me. I’d love to have kids. I’d love to get married and share my life with someone. But maybe, maybe there’s something else.

Maybe I’ll be atypical. Maybe I’ll spend my days holed up in a little corner of this Starbucks, watching people come and go. Maybe I’ll be one of those people, sipping foamy dark cappuccinos and clacking in heels across the tile floor. Maybe I’ll leave tomorrow and head out on the open road, wind in my hair, stereo blasting some appropriate indie song. Maybe I’ll stay. I’ll fall in love and then fall out of love and cry myself to sleep and then laugh about it all later. Maybe I’ve already met the man of my dreams. Maybe I never will. Maybe I’ll sit and listen to the same song over and over again on repeat, wishing those words had been my own. Maybe I'll spend my entire life waiting. Or moving. Or singing. Or writing about other people. Maybe one day someone will write about me. Or write me a song. Kiss me under the stars. Hold my hand. Introduce me to his parents. Maybe we won't get married. We'll travel and talk and make love and dance and never settle. Maybe I’ll spend an entire day with my toes in the sand, salty sea air curling my hair in waves around my face. Maybe it will all come true. Maybe faith will be rewarded and love will be returned and smiles will be exchanged. Maybe I’ll survive. And laugh through it all. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I will be typical. I’ll get married. Have children. A dog. A cat. A minivan. Maybe I’ll be blissful. Maybe the earth will just continue turning. Maybe none of this matters. Maybe all of it does.

Maybe there are possibilities that can't even be comprehended.

Maybe I just want to fall into this endless pool of maybe, float in lazy circles over the water, languid and relaxed, eyes shaded from the sun. Even just for a little bit...

Maybe.

Current Music: Finish Line by Fanfarlo

In Which Everything I Need to Know, I Learned from Saved by the Bell

After watching Rachel Maddow (and let me just say now that I want to BE her when I grow up) tonight I'm a little overwhelmed by the feeling of utter helplessness I feel over this whole oil spill crisis. Well, hopelessness mixed with total blackout inducing rage would actually be a more apt way to describe how I feel toward it right now - but tomay-to, tomah-to.

And I can't help but wonder, didn't we learn this lesson already?

Let's go back shall we, way back to a simpler time when problems were solved in hilarious fashion and under 30 minutes, back to circa 1990...

Zach Morris and his friends are playing baseball or football or some kind of sport (because every single character on that show played every single sport - seriously, I think there was even a gymnastics episode) out on the field and there’s apparently a pond nearby and a wayward duck ends up being beened by a ball. Because he’s Zack and he’s awesome, he takes the duck to the science teacher for help. Oh, and it just so happens that he and his friends all have the same science class together (and every other class for that matter and I really wish high school had been more like that). The classroom also suspiciously looks like the same room where they have math and history and sometimes practice white water rafting (remember, that episode with Mr. Belding's cooler younger brother and how we knew he was cool because he had long hair and wore jeans?).

So the science teacher helps Zach take care of the duck while simultaneously giving a lesson on biology with a bunch of other little animals that they’ve taken from the nearby pond. And of course Mr. Belding wanders into the classroom (Did that guy ever work? I seriously never saw my principal unless I was at a pep rally) and it turns out that he recognizes the duck as Becky (named after his wife) a duck that he likes to go and feed at lunch (Mr. Belding is truly the most tragic character in this show).

The second plot line of the episode starts when Slater runs into the Max covered in oil. But why?! Well it turns out that they struck oil! On the football field. Yeah, okay.

So suddenly the school is rich and the students start having delusional fantasies about what life will be like in a rich fancy Bayside and it pretty much involves them not going to class anymore and dating supermodels and suddenly speaking in British accents or something (I might also be thinking of that episode where they think they're going to get rich off making friendship bracelets). And of course the only person that doesn’t like this is Jessie. Cause she’s a freaking buzzkill.

But then the duck is healed and the students take all the animals back to the pond and we all know what’s going to happen now. Queue Slater once again covered in oil because there’s been an oil spill and everyone rushes to the pond to save the animals but it’s too late. So Zach's got Becky in his jacket but she’s covered in oil and clearly dead and everyone cries. (I think this special episode was even more special that that one where that famous guy offers Kelly pot and Screech finds a joint in the boys bathroom and they all flip out, as teenagers are wont to do if they find a joint in the school bathroom, and then Brandon Tartikoff comes and films a commercial with the gang where they teach people to say no to dope.)

So everyone is sad and obviously Jessie was right the entire time (because she’s always right, unless she’s taking caffeine pills to stay up and study). And they team up to teach the big bad oil company a lesson and the plan involves Zach spilling oil on a guy (a guy who's wearing a bolo tie and has a Southern accent because ALL people in the oil business are from Texas and wear bolo ties) and explaining to the students that a new fancy Bayside means they won't be able to have class outside under the shade of trees anymore (I only ever had one teacher in high school let us have class outside. And I’m pretty sure it’s because she wasn’t saying no to dope). And of course, they win and the evil oil company goes away and the episode ends with one of their epic six way high fives. Good times.

So what?

I’m not an idiot. I 100% realize that life's problems will never be as simple as Saved by the Bell presents them. Problems don’t get solved in thirty minutes to the dulcet sounds of a laugh track. We can't just say, "We're already a better Bayside/Country/World without the oil so let all drilling henceforth be stopped." But can't we take a little responsibility? Or at least look beyond pocketbooks and the bottom line to see the reality of this planet and the people who have to live and breathe and survive here?

We dig and we dig and we use technology to get more oil faster and from deeper depths than ever before and we steamroll ahead with dollar signs in our eyes without stopping to think of the consequences. How is this okay? How have we let this happen? How have our politicians and fellow human beings let this happen? This is not something for which simple human error is an acceptable excuse. Shutoff valves are broken and fail safe plans don't work all because someone somewhere was trying to cut a few corners, because checking and rechecking takes time and manpower and money. Efforts to stop the spill all fail one after the other because no one knows what to do with an oil spill at this depth. Why? Because that kind of research takes time and money. Efforts to clean up the oil are half-ass, not well-manned and poorly planned. Why? Time and money, time and money.

It makes me a little bit ill.

Hundreds of thousands of barrels of oil pour into the Gulf every day and no one has any idea what to do. The latest reports say that a cap is in place but now it's just "sit around and cross your fingers that it works" time. And all of that is just so maddening. It shouldn't be, "let's hope this works" or "let's throw everything but the kitchen sink at this thing and hope something sticks." There should be a plan. There should be research that is oh, I don't know, NOT outdated and thirty years old.

BP, I want to punch you in the face.

I wish I could be ten years old again; I wish I could believe that all our problems had simple solutions; I wish life was as easy as Zach Morris taught me it was back all those years ago.  Because, it's not. It's complicated and it's frustrating and sometimes I want to run around in circles screaming because, what do we do? Where does this end?

I'm going to repeat what Rachel Maddow said tonight: things need to change. The way these oil companies are run, needs to change. Our politicians need to change the way they do business. If lesson's aren't learned and changes aren't made in the wake of this disaster, then our political system is failing - failing us, failing our Founding Fathers.

So listen up elected officials. Shut your mouths and your partisan, greedy bickering and get something done, do something for the people. And by people, I mean, the people - not the lobbyists, not the corporations  -the people. Because if you can't, well then, I don't even know anymore.

Zach Morris, I need a hug.