Thursday, July 27, 2006
So I read in the paper today that you have to get a permit from the City in order to cut potentially dangerous tree branches off trees in your yard. The City, however, can demand that you cut your grass whenever they feel that it needs it. I <3 Tampa. And I really do mean less than 3. Most people I know would agree that Tampa gets maybe 1 out of 5 stars. It just doesn't stack up to other mid-sized cities. But that's another story for another day.
In between rainstorms today, I decided to work in my yard because I am trying everything possible to get my mind out of this stupid rut it's been stuck in for the past couple of months. I haven't pulled weeds since I was about 13 years old. See, when I was a kid, me and my mom and sister lived in a sort of socialist household. We all participated in all of the house and yard work because there was no man there to tell us what to do or screw things up. No one got an allowance and no one got paid to do chores. When my mom got remarried, my step-dad made sure that he and my step-brother never touched the household chores AND he would pay my step-brother to do yardwork. No one paid me if I did any yardwork, so I never did any. I didn't really care if I got paid or not but I thought it was ridiculous to pay my step-brother. Anyways, nowadays I still don't do much yardwork because I hate being outside in my yard for one (too much bass inflected music from the neighbors house and passing cars and I don't like getting holla'd at) and I'm never home during daylight hours. But see today, I was feeling really desperate and in need of controlling something, so I started pulling weeds. Not surprisingly, pulling weeds gave me the same sense of satisfaction plucking my eyebrows does. Also when I was 13, I began plucking my eyebrows. Besides the fact that I had Brooke Shields eyebrows that needed help, plucking gave me a sense of control, something I could perfect. Throughout my teenage years, I religiously plucked my eyebrows. My obsession hit an extremely high point when I was 18. I plucked every single night before I went to bed. Any stray hair or tiny new hair that had grown in came out. Golden Arches? I had 'em. I saw a picture of myself from this time period and I definitely had the highest, skinniest eyebrows of any woman under 60 I've ever seen. Pyschologists (and myself) liken obsessive behaviors such as this to cutting and disordered eating, but much less severe, obviously. It's a form of control and it just so happens to hurt. I didn't even mind the pain, in fact I kind of liked it. It was real. So tonight when I was pulling weeds, I enjoyed every sliver of crab grass I yanked out of the ground. There was no pain, but there was a sense of control.
In between rainstorms today, I decided to work in my yard because I am trying everything possible to get my mind out of this stupid rut it's been stuck in for the past couple of months. I haven't pulled weeds since I was about 13 years old. See, when I was a kid, me and my mom and sister lived in a sort of socialist household. We all participated in all of the house and yard work because there was no man there to tell us what to do or screw things up. No one got an allowance and no one got paid to do chores. When my mom got remarried, my step-dad made sure that he and my step-brother never touched the household chores AND he would pay my step-brother to do yardwork. No one paid me if I did any yardwork, so I never did any. I didn't really care if I got paid or not but I thought it was ridiculous to pay my step-brother. Anyways, nowadays I still don't do much yardwork because I hate being outside in my yard for one (too much bass inflected music from the neighbors house and passing cars and I don't like getting holla'd at) and I'm never home during daylight hours. But see today, I was feeling really desperate and in need of controlling something, so I started pulling weeds. Not surprisingly, pulling weeds gave me the same sense of satisfaction plucking my eyebrows does. Also when I was 13, I began plucking my eyebrows. Besides the fact that I had Brooke Shields eyebrows that needed help, plucking gave me a sense of control, something I could perfect. Throughout my teenage years, I religiously plucked my eyebrows. My obsession hit an extremely high point when I was 18. I plucked every single night before I went to bed. Any stray hair or tiny new hair that had grown in came out. Golden Arches? I had 'em. I saw a picture of myself from this time period and I definitely had the highest, skinniest eyebrows of any woman under 60 I've ever seen. Pyschologists (and myself) liken obsessive behaviors such as this to cutting and disordered eating, but much less severe, obviously. It's a form of control and it just so happens to hurt. I didn't even mind the pain, in fact I kind of liked it. It was real. So tonight when I was pulling weeds, I enjoyed every sliver of crab grass I yanked out of the ground. There was no pain, but there was a sense of control.
