Tag Archives: quirks

Cram

Cram: (v) to fill something by force

 It is impossible that all of the memories we have of another person are going to be good. Matter of fact, a good portion of the people we encounter may end up touching our lives in more negative ways than positive.

Yet it is useless for us to hold onto grudges, believing they grow more valuable over time, like a fine wine. funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Case in point:

Much of the time I spent with my mother was not particularly beneficial to my soul. I suppose this article would be more interesting if I went into the details of those unfortunate moments. But since I have sifted through them, I will spare you the unnecessary remembrance.

What I would like to do is recall one Thursday afternoon—many, many years ago—when my mom showed up to the junior high school to drive me across town to the gymnasium, where I was going to attend basketball practice. I was just thirteen—frisky, ornery and always looking to do something beyond the pale.

I had invited all my friends from the team to catch a ride with me in our family sedan. Little did my mother know, when I asked her if it was alright for some other guys to come along, was that I had invited fourteen.

Now, she was not a woman given to enjoying, enduring, and certainly never planning a prank. I don’t know why, on this particular day, she didn’t put her foot down and object. (Maybe it was because her foot was on the gas pedal.)

But one by one, my friends crawled into the trunk and the back seat, laying on top of each other, giggling like first graders, complaining and breathing heavily, until finally I inserted myself into the front seat, which now held six people including my mother, barely able to close the door behind me.

Once we all were in, she chose to take a long, dramatic pause. Now that I, too, am a parent, I’m sure her thinking was:

A. What in the hell am I doing?

B. Won’t it be just as much trouble to get them out of the car as drive them?

C. Where is the town cop this time of day? and

D. Could I actually make a stand on this without totally humiliating my son and becoming known as one of “those” adults?

She simply reached up, put the car in drive, and took us the two-and-a-half miles—very, very slowly—to our destination.

She was surrounded by adolescent laughing, gasping, spitting and snorting.

She never said a word.

She never took her eyes off the mirrors.

We arrived, and miraculously, were able to disengage from one another’s flesh, run into the building and start bouncing the balls.

I didn’t thank her, I didn’t look back, and we never spoke of it again.

But there is one day in my memory when my mother, with all her quirks, allowed me to cram fourteen friends into the Chevrolet—without yelling or fussing.

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Chromosomes

Chromosomes: (n) nucleic acids found in living cells, carrying genetic information in the form of genes.

My brow crinkles and I sprout a sneer every time I see the commercial about the lady who had her DNA tested and discovered she was 26% Native American. With that information she plans to direct her life toward studying the culture of the tribes, the original inhabitants of
North America.

Really??

It seems we just continue to bounce aimlessly back and forth between two walls, like a red rubber ball.

Wall #1: “I am completely at the mercy of my chromosomes and genetic code.”

Wall #2: “I can be anything I want to be and am not trapped by my DNA.”

I suppose the American solution to this quandary is to offer the tepid response, “Well, it’s a little bit of both…”

But it’s not.

Even if we have certain inclinations, mannerisms or quirks that may spring up through our birthing code, they can be addressed and even altered.

It is difficult to be the master of your own fate when you’re still subject to your father’s sperm and your mother’s egg. It is certainly impossible to envision a world where we submit to being human beings instead of cloistered in the definition of our original tissue sample.

There is a phrase written in the Good Book which proclaims that transformation of our spiritual life actually causes us to become “new creatures.”

I don’t know why this wouldn’t be popular.

I don’t know why some woman on television feels she must refer to her child as a “pappoose” now that she realizes that one-quarter of her passed through the teepee.

Something is wrong–and the reason it’s wrong is the manifestation of why everything is wrong.

Whenever you’re trying to play something both ways, just in case one way doesn’t work out, you always end up looking stupid.

Make up your mind.

Are you merely the result of your parents’ sexual encounter and goo, or do you have the power, through freedom of choice, to steer your destiny in the direction of your favorite star?

 

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Abase

by J. R. Practix

dictionary with letter A

Abase: v. to behave in a way so as to belittle or degrade someone.

By the way, abase is not to slide into second on your face. I just wanted to make that clear. When I read the definition, what struck me is that “abase,” “abasing” or the action of “abasement” is considered by Old Dic to be negative.

It’s something we do to other people. I would welcome it if someone could actually and legitimately belittle me.  Fat chance.

It’s rather interesting that the Bible suggests that we learn how to be abased. How does one learn the correct procedure to be degraded? You look like a real doormat if somebody puts you down and you go, “Oh! Good one!”

It’s really stupid to anticipate rejection and be flinching in the presence of others because you are prepared for them to them to swallow up all the air your ego needs to breathe. The only thing I found successful is to point out one’s own flaws, weaknesses, quirks and oddities before other people have a chance to enjoy picking the bones on your carcass. To do this, you have to have an excellent sense of self and appreciation for the parts of you that contribute in a positive way to human life. Then you can detach those portions of your personality that have decayed and are about ready to fall off.

I guess it’s hard to go into the a-base-ment when you  haven’t really enjoyed your own living room. It’s damp down there in the a-base-ment. It smells like what you think would be the odor if a book farted.

Disgusting, huh?

So it’s not recommended for anyone to be thrown down into the cellar unless you know how to ascend  the stairs with a good sense of humor and warm yourself by the fires of your own contentment. I don’t like to ridicule people. The ones who fight back are too mean and the ones who don’t are too pitiful. I don’t like to belittle anyone. I learned a long time ago–there’s always someone better than me, and having played football for a season or two and sharing a locker room with other men, i can tell you of a certainty–we are not all created equal.

Abase is something I must do to myself in a comedic way to make certain that it’s always my idea and not yours. Otherwise, I end up looking through dirty windows surrounded by decade-old magazines, a busted washing machine and a broken bicycle–trying to get a peek at the sun.