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The wrong foot
Mar. 5th, 2007 12:12 pmThe expression, "Got out on the wrong side of the bed" has always confused me.
We live in an age when the large portion of the world lives out its days inhabbiting a small apartment or single room which is too small to accomedate placing a bed in the middle of the room. As a result, most beds are pressed into a corner or butt up againstr a wall, making it so that it is only possible to roll off of bed in one direction without hitting a wall. Even in surburbian life, the bed is often placed against a wall to conserve space.
The purpose of the expression is to display the tendency for a day to start off with something amiss. With the onset of the first event of the day, rolling off the bed, one assumes that the individual has already made an incorrect decision despite the fact that the individual rolling out of the bed has no legitimate data with which to logically deduce the optimum side of the bed to roll off of. In truth, there is no manner to correctly establish a "right" and "wrong" side of the bed to roll off of; the decision is arbitrary. This sense that the day has gone wrong without the fault of the individual rolling out of the bed is the crux of the medaphor.
Today has been an odd day. Nothing has really gone very wrong today, but I am experiancing the same feeling that this analogy has attempted to hint at. While I have not made any overtly incorrect decisions, I feel that the day is conspiring against me. This all begun with my first decision of the day: Which foot do I get off the bed with?
Some short backstory.
I went hiking with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bmwman91 and Dan yesterday. While we had a lot of fun, I nearly lost my leg. That may sound absurd, but I assure you that I am only slightly joking.
As often happens while hiking, the group of people reverted into a bunch of cavemen. The most commmon effects of this transformation include climbing up hills, leaping from stone to stone to cross rivers, and an over arching belief that the mountain was our bitch. The most stark embodiment of this frame of mind during this hiking trip was that we were all suddenly vastly entertained by throwing rocks into a river. In fact, not just into a river; we were vastly entertained by throwing rocks at other rocks, seeing how high we could throw rocks, and on several occassions picking up the heaviest rock we could lift and seeing if we could climb up a nearby ledge while holding afore mentioned giant rock. Most of the time, any of these forms of age-old homo sapien entertainment would climax by watching the rocks spark, splash, or shatter. Then, in another age-old form of homo sapien entertainment, we would hide behiind other rocks as the sharpest rock shrapnel ever seen would fly in all directions in an attempt to slice open our limbs. It was good wholesome fun.
We were in the middle of enjoying our latest episode of, "throw the rock" when I decided that I was getting thirsty. Curtailing my primordial caveman activities, I walked over to our synthetic plastic and cloth backpack to pull out some fine bottled water. Unfortunately, Will was not done being a caveman yet. I walked in front of him just as he sent a 250+lbs boulder careening off the side of the rock face.
"ROCK!!!" he yelled, unable to think of anything more intellegent to say. I thought this was absurd. Of course there were rocks. We were standing on rocks. We had been throwing rocks for the last several minutes. Why wouldn't there be rocks?
As if in slow motion, I look to my left and see a knee-high giant rumbling ball of spherical doom tumbling towards my person. "Oh. Rock!!" I thought unintellegently. Of course, what else would I think? I considered my options: I could run away from it ala India Jones, dive to the left, or stand there and have my ankle or leg bone snapped by this stone. Some basic part of my brain kicked in and I LEAPT over the rock. I would love to say that this was a gracefully olympic high-jump style leap. But in all reality, I simply whipped my left leg up and somehow managed to scramble sideways over the stone in an odd arch.
The rock hit my right tibula and left a cruel bruise, but I managed to jump over it and watched it tumble into the river. I'd wine, but I'm just happy that I still have my right leg. With the momentum that thing had, it could have easily snapped my leg and Will and Dan would have had to carry my ass back over the river.
Let's snap back to this morning.
I walk up, yawn, and roll out of bed. Unfortunately, my right foot, the one which was smacked by a huge boulder, was the first to hit the ground. OWWWWW!!!!! OMGOMGOMGWTFPAINWHY!?!?!
Today, I got out of bed on the wrong foot. This displays how a seemingly insignificant decision at the start of the day can be the onset of a bad day. The leg is feeling a bit better, but it today I have already eaten a bad peice of fruit, take a crap and realize that there is no toilet paper, been late to class because of afore mentioned toilet paper incident and nearly missed a quiz in class. Due to an unrelated set of bad decisions, I'm devouring my lunch atm and will most likely be late to Modern Dance. Let's hope things can shape up later today.
The world is a dangerous place.
Every morning, from the moment you step out of bed, you risk being at the mercy of billions of things which you have no control over. Work, school, and a determined schedule rule the daily working day with an iron fist. Yet, every day we make the decision to get the fuck out of bed and make something of your day. If would be so much easier to lay there and avoid all of this.
I normally roll out of bed due to a sense of responsibility and a shameless optimism.
What makes you get out of bed?
Truly,
~Kigs
We live in an age when the large portion of the world lives out its days inhabbiting a small apartment or single room which is too small to accomedate placing a bed in the middle of the room. As a result, most beds are pressed into a corner or butt up againstr a wall, making it so that it is only possible to roll off of bed in one direction without hitting a wall. Even in surburbian life, the bed is often placed against a wall to conserve space.
The purpose of the expression is to display the tendency for a day to start off with something amiss. With the onset of the first event of the day, rolling off the bed, one assumes that the individual has already made an incorrect decision despite the fact that the individual rolling out of the bed has no legitimate data with which to logically deduce the optimum side of the bed to roll off of. In truth, there is no manner to correctly establish a "right" and "wrong" side of the bed to roll off of; the decision is arbitrary. This sense that the day has gone wrong without the fault of the individual rolling out of the bed is the crux of the medaphor.
Today has been an odd day. Nothing has really gone very wrong today, but I am experiancing the same feeling that this analogy has attempted to hint at. While I have not made any overtly incorrect decisions, I feel that the day is conspiring against me. This all begun with my first decision of the day: Which foot do I get off the bed with?
Some short backstory.
I went hiking with
bmwman91 and Dan yesterday. While we had a lot of fun, I nearly lost my leg. That may sound absurd, but I assure you that I am only slightly joking.As often happens while hiking, the group of people reverted into a bunch of cavemen. The most commmon effects of this transformation include climbing up hills, leaping from stone to stone to cross rivers, and an over arching belief that the mountain was our bitch. The most stark embodiment of this frame of mind during this hiking trip was that we were all suddenly vastly entertained by throwing rocks into a river. In fact, not just into a river; we were vastly entertained by throwing rocks at other rocks, seeing how high we could throw rocks, and on several occassions picking up the heaviest rock we could lift and seeing if we could climb up a nearby ledge while holding afore mentioned giant rock. Most of the time, any of these forms of age-old homo sapien entertainment would climax by watching the rocks spark, splash, or shatter. Then, in another age-old form of homo sapien entertainment, we would hide behiind other rocks as the sharpest rock shrapnel ever seen would fly in all directions in an attempt to slice open our limbs. It was good wholesome fun.
We were in the middle of enjoying our latest episode of, "throw the rock" when I decided that I was getting thirsty. Curtailing my primordial caveman activities, I walked over to our synthetic plastic and cloth backpack to pull out some fine bottled water. Unfortunately, Will was not done being a caveman yet. I walked in front of him just as he sent a 250+lbs boulder careening off the side of the rock face.
"ROCK!!!" he yelled, unable to think of anything more intellegent to say. I thought this was absurd. Of course there were rocks. We were standing on rocks. We had been throwing rocks for the last several minutes. Why wouldn't there be rocks?
As if in slow motion, I look to my left and see a knee-high giant rumbling ball of spherical doom tumbling towards my person. "Oh. Rock!!" I thought unintellegently. Of course, what else would I think? I considered my options: I could run away from it ala India Jones, dive to the left, or stand there and have my ankle or leg bone snapped by this stone. Some basic part of my brain kicked in and I LEAPT over the rock. I would love to say that this was a gracefully olympic high-jump style leap. But in all reality, I simply whipped my left leg up and somehow managed to scramble sideways over the stone in an odd arch.
The rock hit my right tibula and left a cruel bruise, but I managed to jump over it and watched it tumble into the river. I'd wine, but I'm just happy that I still have my right leg. With the momentum that thing had, it could have easily snapped my leg and Will and Dan would have had to carry my ass back over the river.
Let's snap back to this morning.
I walk up, yawn, and roll out of bed. Unfortunately, my right foot, the one which was smacked by a huge boulder, was the first to hit the ground. OWWWWW!!!!! OMGOMGOMGWTFPAINWHY!?!?!
Today, I got out of bed on the wrong foot. This displays how a seemingly insignificant decision at the start of the day can be the onset of a bad day. The leg is feeling a bit better, but it today I have already eaten a bad peice of fruit, take a crap and realize that there is no toilet paper, been late to class because of afore mentioned toilet paper incident and nearly missed a quiz in class. Due to an unrelated set of bad decisions, I'm devouring my lunch atm and will most likely be late to Modern Dance. Let's hope things can shape up later today.
The world is a dangerous place.
Every morning, from the moment you step out of bed, you risk being at the mercy of billions of things which you have no control over. Work, school, and a determined schedule rule the daily working day with an iron fist. Yet, every day we make the decision to get the fuck out of bed and make something of your day. If would be so much easier to lay there and avoid all of this.
I normally roll out of bed due to a sense of responsibility and a shameless optimism.
What makes you get out of bed?
Truly,
~Kigs
