Life is a learning curve. Sometimes it’s a lazy spring PCH meander, other times it’s a Mulholland Drive Saturday night blindfold fest in a jet propelled shopping cart.
Won’t come back from dead man’s curve…
Here’s a learning curve slow pitch for you: Why does everything relate to California metaphors? Easy: we planned it that way. It’s our way of proving that the world revolves around our pinpoint axis on this hacky sack globe. Oh we may be smaller than Alaska, but while they’re busy tongue tipping elk-cicles and protecting us from the Russian hordes breast stroking over the Bering Strait, we’re lying on the beach saving America from the great whale invasion and getting really good tans.
Which would you rather do? That’s why I’d never try to be vice president. Yup, the only reason. I’m too busy learning to be pretty. Yeah, I know. That’s one learning curve I just can’t make.
I learned to be divorced just fine. Yeah, it took some practice, but it’s actually easier than falling off a skateboard, and leaves the same scars. We Californian’s have lots of scars; we like to cover them with trendy tatts. Yeah, that barbed wire bicep lasso? That’s our way of protecting our vaccination scars from you. Vaccinations are a sign of weakness. Our barbed wire says, “I’m a rock hard flesh sculpture.” The tramp stamp? That says something else. I don’t know what.
Oh…
I’m sorry; I hadn’t reached that point in the learning curve yet. I’ve been taking it slow up till now. See that’s part of the curve: you slow into it, and then accelerate out of it. I’m only now starting to get out. Tramps and stamps are not things I collect. And what do you call those? The collectors. I mean a stamp collector is a philatelist, right? What’s a tramp collector?
Bret Michaels? Huh, I didn’t see that curve coming; guess you learn something everyday.
Some curves are blind. Maybe that’s why I’m so shapely. I dunno. I didn’t see my divorce coming. I should have. The wavy arrow signs were reflecting in black and white back in my face. I guess I was just too busy enjoying the ride. I know, “Typical California driver.”
My life slowed into the divorce curve because of traffic: too many rubberneckers. I learned to readjust my speed and balance, picking up speed as I pulled out. My grunge pixie friend sees it differently. She doesn’t have the Socal eye view. Her Space Needle aerie looks down on California vermin. I squeak my metaphor but she just licks her talons. I don’t know what that means. It can’t be too bad; she reads my blogs.
From her perch, she talks about how it’s like a balance beam. You know, something throws you off balance, and then you overcompensate and something else makes you nearly fall to the other side? That’s what Grunge Pixie compares it too. I know. It’s ok, she’s not a Californian. I forgive her. Me, I don’t speak balance beams. I never learned. I fall off. That analogy means nothing. I only speak in curves.
Still, she has a thought. We all approach the curve differently. I do it in a car, she does it on a slim stick of wood. If she were riding a piece of flying wood, I could call it a broomstick, but then again if I told her she rode that, she probably wouldn’t be as eager to see me. See, I’ve learned from that curve before. It was an ugly fiery wreck.
Never associate women with witches or anything that rhymes them.
That’s my dating mantra. It’s worked so far.
As it is, she’s a pixie and she flies on her own design. I don’t have to worry about the stick or where she puts it. Me? I’m accelerating out of the divorce curve. I want to leave that as far behind me as possible. The important question is this though: did I learn anything?
If I didn’t I’m just going to end up another flaming heap at the bottom of the cliff, cuz some learning curves cause permanent damage. Despite the California sunset illusion allusion, all curves lead somewhere real or we fly out into oblivious oblivion. Just ask Jan Berry.
So now I’m flying off to see the Grunge Pixie for Christmas. It’s exciting. It’s not the curve of divorce, and it’s a road I’ve never taken. Oh, I’ve been down similar routes, but this ones fresh. Oh, it’s still unlit, and my Shopping cart has nitrous—so It’s scary. It’s fun. It’s a learning curve snaking away from the Socal skyline. All I can do is strap myself in, and hope I’ve learned my lesson.
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