Call It "Pure Being"

Caution: Hot. Yield to Oncoming Traffic. Do Not Place in Eyes. No Diving in Shallow Waters. Warning: Chili Causes Gas

These signs and warnings have always seemed redundant to me. Of course I should not reach into the cage holding the wild gorilla; the damn thing could tear my arm off. Of course I should not walk onto a high rise construction site without protective headwear; my skull is not impervious to tools falling from heights greater than a few feet. Naturally I should not pull directly out into traffic without checking for oncoming cars; I am not the only person in the tri-city area who might want to drive somewhere this morning.

In short, the American necessity to over-warn its citizens and protect itself from litigation has always been a mild irritant. For years, I have felt that all of these signs, these warnings, these safety reminders could be replaced with a single sign by a simple reminder.

I

AM

MORTAL

Perhaps it overestimates the thoughtfulness of people, but I like to believe that reminders like this would nullify the necessity to warn people against stupid behavior and provide people with a daily dose of scope and perspective.

For the first time in my life, I need this sign. I feel it in my gut. It seeps through my skin. It is striking.

The circumstances surrounding this realization are both chaotic and inconsequential. Suffice it to say that I have recently been party to what can only be described as a moving fiasco. I am, at once, homeless and bordered, broke and financially secure, terrified and calm. For the first time in my life, it has occurred to me that there is a dark cloud over this time in my life.

I recognize how pampered and juvenile all this could seem. What difference does it make if some twenty-something would-be writer checks her life's forecast and sees a chance of mid-morning thunderstorms? Not much, and writing about it may only be an addition to the myriad of self-indulgent narrative in the world.

Point well taken. But this topic is interesting to me at the moment. And guess whose name is at the top of the page?

This inescapable sense of mortality seems such an affront to me. I have been trying to relish this dark period as an opportunity to develop my perspective. Every day I remind myself that this is merely the third act, that period in of my life in which all the odds are against me and I have to pick myself up from a minor defeat in order to sail victorious into the fourth. I have taken as my mantra that this lingering sense of nausea is the best way to experience my own existence, to divorce myself from the bad faith of being. I even hum Eye of the Tiger, for Christssake.

Try as I might, I am allowing myself to succumb to the little indignities of this situation, and they are beginning to flag flash-flood warnings.

For instance, a family of three has been kind enough to act as the safety net throughout this fiasco. This all-American family boasts a home with pool, husband-wife team, TV addicted son, and German Shepherd. They are delightful people. I have tried on numerous occasions to show my gratitude by helping around the house. To date, I have met with the following reactions:

· Upon trying to do laundry: Could you please not do our laundry? Or at least, not our clothes. I'm particular about how we do the clothes. And don't dry them. Let me hang them. And thanks for trying to fold the laundry I did, but I have a way. (Proceeds to unfold and refold laundry)

· Upon trying to do dishes: You know what? Let me do that. We only put certain things in the dishwasher and I like to hand dry the other stuff.

· Upon trying to help clean up the kitchen: Thanks for trying, but I'm a freak about cleaning the kitchen. (Proceeds to reclean the kitchen)

· Upon trying to make dinner of stuffed cabbage: You make make that for dinner, but I'm not going to eat it. I had to grow up with that stuff. It looks disgusting. And it has onions in it. We don't do onions or garlic or anything spicy. (Note: After cooking the dinner, only the husband had any. Both the mother and son said that it was nasty and had breakfast foods instead)

Stormy period or no, I feel certain that there was a time in my life when I could effectively help people around the house or express gratitude. I think the lightning is causing some interference in my ability to transmit clear signals.

Though it is a struggle, I feel that I will be able to continue to weather-proof my life through this period. I am certain that these daggers from without will be parried off with my mantras and delusions of grandeur. But I am less certain of these daggers from within. They have a way of embedding themselves under the skin like a thousand fiberglass splinters.

I once had thousands of fiberglass splinters along the insides of both my arms. They ached incredibly and were terribly resistant to removal. In the end, it took painstaking sessions with duct tape and hot showers to remove them all.

Right now, all I've got is a giant dodge ball to the face.