Tuesday, January 26, 2010


Today I sent the strangest text message I think I've ever sent. It said simply "maybe my eyes are your teeth." Taken out of context I'm sure you're thinking WTF? Teeth, eyes, what?? How would that even work?

The context of the text was me asking a friend if the cold she had (has still?) made her eyes hurt. As in the actual eyeball, not the socket or the muscles surrounding it. Because I'm totally getting her cold (which is fine, I'm not mad at her. No really, I'm not. I honestly don't care.) and I had these weird eye pains. Her response was no, but her teeth did hurt at one point. So, logically (in my mind at least) I replied that maybe my eyes were her teeth, meaning maybe the weird pains in my eyes were how my body was processing this cold and I was getting pain there instead of in my teeth. Context was very very important in this case. Because really? "Maybe my eyes are your teeth?" That makes no sense what so ever.

Context provides so much clarity in life. So many little things that we do or say or text every day would seem so incredibly odd without the context surrounding them. For instance, today a co-worker asked me if I'd resurrected someone. And I answered yes. No, I don't have the power to raise the dead. I do have the power, however, to change errors in our database and therefore I am able to make the "dead" "alive" again.

Without context in our lives I think we'd have a ridiculously hard time functioning in the world. I can't even imagine what that would be like and I hope I never find out.

Lyrics for this post are easy, even if my mind is rather muddled with the cold that's brewing (maybe I'll take a sick day, probably I won't though). They come from the song Fire Door by Ani DiFranco (<-- video link chosen not because it's a stellar performance of the song but because I used to live in Ithaca and Ani and Ithaca go hand in hand for me) (this is a better performance) (also this is one of my top 10 favorite songs of all time) (Could I use any more parenthesis in this paragraph?) (apparently, yes, yes I can).

I opened the fire door to four lips
None of which were mine kissing
Tightened my belt around my hips
Where your hands were missing

Stepped out into the cold, collar high
Under the slate grey sky, the air was smoking
And the streets were dry and I wasn't joking
When I said good bye

And there were magazine quality men talking on the corner
French, no less much less of them then us
So why do I feel like something's been rearranged?
You know, taken out of context I must seem so strange.

I killed a cockroach so big
It left a puddle of puss on my wall
And you know when you and I are lying in bed
You don't, you don't, you don't seem so tall

I'm singing now because my tear ducts are too tired
And my mind is disconnected by my heart is wired

I'd make such a good statistic
Someone should study me now
Somebody's got to be interested in how I feel
Just 'cause I'm here and I'm real and

Oh, how I miss substituting a conclusion
A confrontation with a kiss
And oh, how I miss walking up to the edge and jumping in
Like I could feel the future on your skin
I opened the fire door to four lips
None of which were mine kissing

I opened the fire door

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