Tags
Blundering, Florida, Grins, Humor, Inspiration, Laughter, Light, Mistakes, Nature, Peace, Photography
Mirth at one’s own ridiculousness is a phenomenon I highly value. If I was unable to utter even the minutest chuckle at my own ineptitudes, a dour and dismal life I would lead. Grateful I am, thus, that I do not vise myself with seriousness. I simply accept that I am an unintentional lummox and aquatic baboon most of the time.
I find occasion to laugh at myself multiple moments a day. The inane way I word something, for instance. “Aquatic baboon?” What …? Some shaking of the cranium and some chortles are likely to ensue here.
Another common humiliation I find a bit of hilarity in- my falling habit, intentional or involuntary, no matter.
Sometimes (or often), I decide to take a spill, ardently keen on a particular angle of some “majestic” little scene to snap with the old camera. An individual observes Photographer up, ambulating about one moment; completely flattened, chin kissing the loam, the next. Observer gambols over to assist.
“Are you okay? Oh, you’re photographing something? That’s so nice! What it is?! It must be very interesting to make you crawl around on the ground like that!” cries Observer.
I get up and reply, “I was photographing a twig. Would you like to see it?”
And the preposterousness never ends there. A new acquaintance and I will be enjoying a most lovely conversation about a little snowy-white bird with a long, curved bill known as an ibis.
“It’s so cool,” he says licking his lips and looking to the right, picturing the dainty blue-eyed, crimson-billed bird in his mind, “how they sometimes hang out in huge groups, it’s like, so awesome, and they are so social, ya know?”
Here, I become excited, and what bugles from my thin lips is a habitual phrase I never become free of, “MOST indubitably!”
Eyes become glazed, body stiffens. Not mine, his. Every blasted time, the individual to suffer the onslaught of “indubitably phrase” disturbingly believes I have suddenly lapsed into a posh, stuffy, insipid, vodka-drinking-rich-old-lady type of superiority. Oh dear.
So, instead of sitting there mindlessly cackling, I decide to try and come to my own assistance, for social reasons, after all, “Yes, it is just fabulous! Is it not grand, too, when they emit those uncanny honks as they squabble about for a bit of crust? They must be the cutest birds on the planet!” Here, polite laughter should follow. (Why does that still sound like an insipid, vodka-guzzling snob?)
So, reader, you may be convinced now that the author is quite a sea of incessant.
Incessant blunders, I mean.
Just look at the wreckage of the way this post has been written. I think this may be the most annoying thing I have ever crafted. Ah, but at least I am grateful. I rather like this daily entertainment, whether it is the way I talk in an aggravating nameless accent from nowhere (people always inquire what country, what planet…), or my constant losing of hats, glasses, ties and phones, there will always abide my inner peace. Better to Accept, with great bowls of guffaws, I think, than to self-berate, always in fear of lurking mortification.
(Great bowls of guffaws?)
Many good cheers,
Autumn Jade
A Day in the Brine 
OK, I think I know you – you are me! Only I don’t fall on purpose – ever! Just a couple of week-ends ago I was stepping up on a brick ledge to get better view of a crowd of people at the beach, and ops. I just didn’t lift my leg high enough, and banged my camera against the bricks. Let me tell you, bricks are not good for camera lenses. My scrapes and bruises are almost gone, but so is my camera lens – to camera heaven. Love your blog. It’s gorgeous, and you are SO worth following!!!
As soon as I read your first sentence, I immediately lapsed into muffled laughter, as I was thinking, “Ah, a crony!”
Very distressing about your brick-collision. I am the same way, I get so focused on what I’m looking at, that I misjudge something, and gravitational tragedy ensues. One very memorable time was when I fell into a river. That was different. Some weeks ago, too, I fell into a large ocean wave that suddenly leaped at me, but I managed to keep the camera held above my head ( while I went under and surfers and beachcombers smiled away). In fact, I have fallen so many times into water with the camera, I have no idea how the poor thing has survived.
Oh no, your poor lens. I have had bumbling moments forgetting that I had a pendulum camera around my neck and heard that deafening crack sound as I’m clambering about on something made of asphault, brick, or upon rocks. Oh that sound is terrible!
I am delighted you have stopped by! Thank you. I am looking forward to future rambles together in this wonderful bloggy sea. Many ebullient cheers,
Autumn Jade
Well you inspired that story. I haven’t written anything tonight. What foible should we talk about tonight? I think falling may possibly be my best act, actually. I come by it naturally. My dad’s mom, we called her the little brick because she was 4’10” high and about that wide, was always climbing on her dining room table so that her hapless husband could pin the hem in her mile-wide hibiscus-print dresses. They all looked identical. About half the time she fell off the table. I just thought she didn’t get hurt because she was so fat, but I guess that wasn’t the only reason! I had hoped that I would grow out of it!
I think the spilling is my pinnacle, as well, although, I have a terrible affliction of upsetting chairs (sending them crashing very noisily), or other usually not-so-breakable objects, at the worst moments.
Then there is the losing of things….that is not exactly hysterically funny, in fact, it can really get in the way of the progress of life, very serious.
Like, for example, when one needs to absolutely have one’s favourite, most beloved, cigar-redolent, crumpled, old-man-hat to brave the day- but of course, no hat. Then one recalls after crashing, howling, stampeding about the house, bawling the perennial, “Have you seen my blasted hat?!”, which, of course, no one ever has; and then stopping suddenly, that inner voice saying so very quietly with just a touch of smirk in the tone, “Remember, you put it in that ‘special’ place, so as not to forget.'” Of course I forget! Every blinking time. I never remember these infernal “special” places. Should be relabeled “especially lost” places. If I just put it where hats should go, then I’d have it…well…maybe…and then by this point I glance at the time, as I am supposed to meet someone, so I blast out the door, into the garage, and there is a cloth bag hanging from a nail next to the door, looking especially bulky. For some reason, glance inside, and there’s the blasted checkered hat, smiling up at me, as contented as a nestling clam. A bag in the garage hanging from a nail?! And I am expected to remember that?!
Whatever topic you scrawl about, I know I’m going to love it. Your writing is brilliant! Great cheers to you,
Autumn Jade
P.S. I got so caught up in your site, I forgot to thank you for visiting mine. That’s how I found you. M:)
Oh the discussions you and I have had about falling. I will never forget gym class and all the discussions we had on the track!
Hahaha! I remember those discussions. I remember walking into things, too, all the time, upsetting chairs, etc. I still do that quite often. Oh bother. And the perennial phrase, “Whoa, I almost fell”