Tuesday, December 05, 2006

Mixed Metaphors
I was discussing with Sandusky the fact that I can't keep metaphors straight. I mix em up all the time. I understand what they mean, I even had to explain en espanol for a class what "two peas in a pod" was getting at. In Spanish-speaking countries in South America, you don't pull someone's leg if you are teasing them, you "take Mary by the hair". I really goof up the ones with birds: A bird in the hand should be killed with one stone. The early bird gets to sit in the bush.

As I was driving home from FSB Church last night, I was pondering the Baker Wetlands to my right. I often drive home on Haskell/East 1500/Douglas County 1055, which runs on the east side of the wetlands and has a frighteningly deep ditch full of murky water on my right. Yesterday during the daylight a backhoe from the county was pulling a snowplow out of the watery depths of the ditch, sending chills down my spine as I have great fear of this soggy canyon between me and the wetlands dyke . I am convinced that I will be dead in that ditch, drowning in the water that so many people are willing to fight for. In Summer, I think about how cool that water looks. I could just slip down into it like a baby kitten slips from its mama's womb, experiencing a sudden shock as my body gets jolted from the 90 degree heat to a comfortable yet chilling death bath. I am more scared of it in Winter, because I am convinced that if I didn't drown, I would slowly freeze as my fingers scratch at my seatbelt and door handle, trying to free me from the icy numbness.

Morbid obsession aside, I think alot about what kind of metaphor would describe my interest in this ditch. Gypsy was pushed to the edge of her patience with me a few years ago after I read Siddartha and obsessed about rivers as metaphors for life. "They are just rivers! you don't have to make them represent something!" If I attempt to transfer the river metaphor (flowing, changing path, always the same river but not the same water, blahblahblah) to the wetlands, it doesn't work so well. Maybe it represents life on an evolutionary scale: nothing exciting happens for centuries, the water slowly drains and is replaced at an imperceptably slow rate, diversity is healthy, bird shit accumulates.

I really like to look at the long legged water birds that spend their time at the wetlands. Gracefully picking their way thru the reeds with knees that bend the wrong way, they stretch their necks beneath the surface and gorge themselves on frogs and tadpoles. I took a quiz once in which I had to identify my favorite kind of animal. My choice was supposed to represent how I felt about myself as a sexual creature, but I did not know this until after I had identified my animal. I said birds because I like how they hop around, they are quirky, and fun to watch. How on earth would my fascination with birds have anything to do with my sexuality? I hate those stupid quizzes.

It has been over a week since I had a cigarette, and the smell of the smoke that wafted in to FSB last night was nauseating. I promise I won't become one of those self-righteous non-smokers who nags smokers all the time and thinks I am better because I no longer step outside every half hour to take care of my addiction (which I greatly enjoyed). I do have to practice some self preservation for awhile and remove myself from the temptation, so you won't find me on the porch on Mondays nights. I'll be inside staying warm and nic free.
posted by Rosie @ 12/05/2006 07:38:00 AM

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