The unknown

Once upon a time, there was a red apple. It didn't remember coming to be, it just always remembered being a red apple. The red apple was in a narrow plastic canal, and moving steadily forward. Behind the red apple were other apples, green, golden and other reds. In front of the red apple were more apples. The apple looked to the side and saw parallel rows of apples, all moving in a single file down their respective canals, all moving forward in more or less the same pace.

"Where are we all going?" the red apple asked the apple in front of it.

"We're all just going," the apple in front replied.

"But where?"

"That direction," the front apple said as it nodded forward.

The red apple strained its stem to survey the room. And for what seemed for miles and miles were similarly constructed canals filled with a single row of apples, all moving in the same direction. Then the red apple looked over the edge of the canal.

"Don't look there!" the apple behind barked.

"Why not?" the red apple asked.

"It is the Unknown. Some apples have fallen down there."

"And what happened?" the red apple asked.

"We don't know. That's why it's called the Unknown."

"But we don't even know where this row is taking us."

"No, we know. We're moving in that direction. This is a canal for apples. We are apples. All the apples roll down this canal. This is our purpose."

"If that's not circular reasoning, I don't know what is," the red apple said. "I know we're rolling in that direction. But why?"

"You ask too many questions. Just roll with it."

The red apple complied and rolled with it. Rolled and rolled. The canal never meandered. The scenery never changed. It went on and on. Then one day, the red apple heard a juice-curdling scream.

The apples gasped and turned to the apple that emitted the scream. It was a green apple, and its stem was shivering and it had stopped its row from moving forward.

"I can't take it anymore," the green apple said. "I'm getting out."

Everyone gasped. "No no, that is not the way!"

"I'm getting out," the green apple repeated, and slowly started rocking itself over the edge of the canal.

"No you mustn't! You mustn't go into the Unknown!" the apples cried in unison. The red apple looked over the edge of the canal and could not see anything. There was no darkness, there was no light, there were no colors. It just seemed to be absolutely nothing, yet infinite at the same time.

The green apple rocked itself with enough momentum to slowly yet deliberately careen over the canal's edge. As it fell over the edge, it looked at the red apple, before plunging down into the Unknown.

The apples screamed in horror as the green apple fell.

The apple behind the red apple shook its stem. "Poor sucker."

"Does it die?" the red apple asked.

"We don't know."

"Then why the hell is everyone so horrified by this so-called 'Unknown'?" the red apple demanded.

"Because it's Unknown."

"Fug this," the red apple said. It too started rocking from side to side. "What are you doing?" the apple behind asked.

"I'm getting out too. Who wants to roll in this canal another eternity? I want to check out the Unknown."

"No!" the surrounding apples protested. The red apple rocked and rocked until it had enough momentum to teeter over the edge of its canal. A bolt of fear went through its core as it peered over the edge. This really was the Unknown. Who knows what would happen to the red apple once it fell? Would it regret this plunge? It did have a choice, stay or go. It didn't know.

"Fug it," it said, and went off the edge.

And the red apple fell. The screams of the other apples soon dissipated. Suddenly it felt warmer, and before the red apple could gather where in the heck it was, it landed on something.

"Oof," the red apple said. "I think I bruised myself."

"You sure did." The red apple gasped and looked around. "It's you."

The green apple nodded. "I knew you were next."

"But where are we?"

"I just got here, I have no idea," the green apple replied. "But this is the Unknown. And we're not dead."

"So where have all the other apples who went to the Unknown go?"

"Dunno," the green apple replied. "I guess we'll find out."

Special apologies to Mrs. F

Last night, I dreamt I married Brett Favre.

Brett Favre, former quarterback of the Green Bay Packers.

Brett Favre, current quarterback of the New York Jets

Brett Favre, 38 years old, married, with kids.

What the heck?! Why Brett Favre? Why not Brad Pitt? Or Tom Brady for that matter?

The dream was very strange. I was preparing to get married. Things were behind schedule and everyone was rushing to get ready for the wedding. In my dream, I was not in love with Mr. Favre. And for that matter, it didn't seem that he was so much in love with me. We were somehow getting married though.

I remember the dress was strapless, a cream-colored off-white dress that had a stiff fabric for the top part, and a billowy bottom part. I was frantically looking for shoes in my house (not my condo, but my home where I grew up). I found a pair of silver shoes that were clearly my mom's -- strappy sandals, very 1990's style, and not so stylish. I started looking for these other silvery shoes that I had for another wedding.

Rush rush rush. There was something inside of me that felt like this was all too rushed, that I shouldn't be pressured into marrying a guy I wasn't in love with. Maybe I could call off the wedding and back out. But I just said, fug it, get married.

All throughout these events, I saw my ex-boyfriend lingering in the background. Walking through a room while I was getting ready. Hanging around the wedding party. Not talking to anyone really, and not talking to me.

The strangest thing of all of this -- if it could get any stranger -- was that my boyfriend (my PRESENT boyfriend) was nowhere to be seen. Completely absent. Literally nonexistent.

Then I woke up. What the F was that about? It was so realistic. And so eerie.

I don't have a crush on Favre. I know he's one of the greatest quarterbacks of all time, and he never struck me as one of those cocky, arrogant NFL players who mug for the camera or talk smack about teammates. Seems like a genuinely nice, down-to-earth guy who treats his momma well. I think he's attractive for a quarterback (but most quarterbacks are rather handsome, aren't they?). But I never swooned at the sight of him throwing the ball in the air.

Moreover, I like the dorky awkward types, not the rugged athletic types. What the heck? What does it mean?

Dreams are weird.

It's Sunday night

And you know what that means. The same sentences repeat in my head again and again: "I so don't want to go to work. I so don't want to go to work. But I have to."

I won't discount the importance of having a job, much less a modest salary, in this economy, especially with my extravagant lifestyle of Starbucks coffees and kabobs from the Middle Eastern take-out stand.

I'm starting to think that being happy isn't dwelling on what you don't have, but on what you do have, and what you could have, if you work for it.

(That sounds about right, right?)

Samo Samo

Again, I haven't blogged in a while. The reason for this is simple: Nothing is going on with me. Nothing good. Nothing (new) bad. Just the same ol' ish. Every. Day.

The same question lingers. I don't know what the next 'phase' of my life is. Nothing is really propelling me towards anything. Nothing is really inspiring me. Everyday is Groundhog's Day.

So when inspiration doesn't find you, you should find it, right? I've talked to a lot of lawyers in different fields and in different stages of their careers. I've talked to legal recruiters as well. Most, if not all, lawyers are unhappy.

What other options are there? Teacher? Consultant? Sketch artist? What?

The other day, I was talking to my galfriend about this existential yuppie funk. We wondered if other girls our age in similar stages of their careers were going through the same phase. We then figured, a lot of girls our age are married with kids. And, apparently, marriage and kids can take a lot of time away from ...well, complaining about how there's nothing going on.

As my mom likes to remind me, I'm 30 years old now, and it'll be another 5 years before my eggs start drying up and my chances of bearing a child with Down Syndrome doubles every year after 35. "You must get married," she insists, "you must have children. Otherwise, you will live and die alone."

Okay.

I do eventually want to get married and have kids. But just not now. I am so not ready. Hell, I still am a kid! I don't have time to vacuum my bedroom and I overboil my pasta sometimes--I can't even take care of myself, how could I ever have take care of a kid?!

Looking at all my peers, a number of whom are married with children, I can't help but suspect that maybe I'm ... behind the ball? I realize it's probably social convention that makes me feel this way. But I have to concede that, medically speaking, my chances of having a healthy child starts decreasing after the age of 35 and continues into my 40s. And, feeling lethargic at this age already, I know I won't have the energy to raise a young feisty toddler in my forties. (Mad props to the moms out there who do it -- they're so much more resilient than I am.)

So I'm hoping that I'll "figure it out when the time comes," and everything, in the next few years or so, will somehow fall into place. Right? Right.

It's funny. Lennon once said, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans." I'm not making other plans. So maybe this is why I'm not feeling alive.

Man I need a hobby.