Those Lobsters

They don't, by the way. Scream. The lobsters. But for months, I thought they did. I myself am not a shell fish kind of girl—if something looks on my plate like the creature it just was a moment ago in the kitchen, I'm not eating it. That would include lobster in all its forms. But after hearing this tale of horrific lobster treatment--how they scream when dropped into boiling water--I was shocked.

I spent many a night thinking of all the lobsters all over the world who were dropped into a pot of boiling water for what was likely some extravagant, overindulgent dinner for a bunch of overweight and over-rich compulsive know-it-alls. I could hear their little screams in my mind, pictured Clarice crying for the lambs as I'd tear up for the oh-so-cuddly lobsters. I condemned our society for the cruelty (can ya plunk 'em in the cool water and just politely warm them up?!). I envisioned an anti cruelty campaign for lobsters across the globe. "Stop the screaming, warm them up!" I wondered about all the people who aren't even bothered by the screaming and grieved for our loss of compassion as a people. A race. A species. After all, aren't we supposed to have compassion as the superior species?!

I thought. I wondered. I perseverated. A lot. Which of course by definition is perseveration. Or obsession, though semantically I would say this was not obsessive. I save obsession for the important things, like my Top Five Celebrities I'd Do If I Could list. (George Clooney, George Clooney, George Clooney, Angelina, and George Clooney.)


Except they don't scream. The lobsters. Once I began to dig into the horrors and realities of lobster preparation in my quest for lobster peace, I discovered that lobsters don't, in fact, contain any sort of mechanism for vocalization.

Huh.

Come to think of it, they really don't have a sound, do they? No "quack." No "meow," "woof." Huh. No lobster flash cards in the Baby Einstein animal set.
It took an article from a university professor in Australia to convince me my screaming lobsters were not, actually, screaming. Turns out that sound is the release of air from beneath the shell.

Huh.

Still crueler than it needs to be? Maybe. Probably. Well, ok, yes. But the point is that Screaming Lobsters turned into a good lesson on life for me. About the time, the energy, the SLEEP TIME, the angst, the dread, the emotional and mental energy we spend on things that aren't even as we assumed them to be. We make assumptions. We read between the lines. We anticipate. We think our interpretation of everything, every person, every scenario, is IT. But in reality, our perspective is merely a slice of the whole pie. A single view. Not a complete perspective. In fact, there is probably no such thing as a complete perspective, even of ourselves. And I would bet, the vast majority of the time, those things we are obsessing about—the perseveration—is for something that doesn't even exist as we assume. It's wrong. We're wrong!

So my lobster campaign has become a personal mission: To stop the perseveration. Or at least turn those repetitive thoughts toward positive fabulous things. Like winning the Powerball. (Note I didn't settle for the pittance a mere lottery win might entail.) And have I done it? Stop the perseveration? HELL NO. I do it every day. I'm doing it right now, in fact. I do it constantly. I haven't quite managed to turn my powers of perseveration toward positive things—world peace, feed the starving children of the world, eradicate disease and famine. Win the Powerball (two mentions in the first blog entry does not perseveration make). But I'm trying, as I navigate this life of mine.

Halle Barry was recently quoted (well her PR flack was recently quoted) as saying that she's happy with the woman she's become at 40. SHIT. Shit shit shit. Now I did perseverate on that for awhile, because I personally haven't the foggiest idea who I am at 40. What was I supposed to be when I grow up? What is my passion? What are my hobbies? I have no clue!!!!

Apparently I'm behind. Since life doesn't afford me the indulgence of wasting a couple of years while I Eat, Pray, and Love, I hope this blog may help me navigate the waters, connect to the rest of us who are hitting mid life and trying to limit the perseveration—and just trying to find our bliss.
So I hope you enjoy Screaming Lobsters. They are my personal musings on those things that leave me perplexed, hold me back, make me wonder, make me dream, and make me laugh.