Scribing Life: Yin and Yang

I'm not feeling very original today, so much so that I'm actually borrowing (okay, stealing) words that only minutes before were uttered by someone else. I'm very disappointed in myself, I know. Me, a supposed writer, not coming up with my own witty copy, new dialogue so fresh and so full of perspective that you can not help but look on me in wonder.

We were talking about balance, in life, in relationships, in nature, I suppose, and I was at a loss for another word to describe this precarious walk of life, of finding a lid to fit your pot (yes, I also stole that too, but this time from a book and I'm not telling you which one so you'll spend all of your free time wondering how you can find your own gems - stolen gems, that is).

So, what did I use? Yin and yang, the traditional symbol of balance, of good and evil, light and dark. It fit, it was just too bad that those words had just left my friend's mouth. And yes, I was accused of stealing, and I looked on sheepishly and felt shame, but not so much that I would admit to outright stealing. After all, it's not copyrighted and who would be able to prove that such a daliance took place, a thievery of words and phrases. I sure as hell wouldn't own up to it - I have a rep to manage.

One could say that I was merely in agreement and wanting that person to feel accepted and understood. Imitation is supposed to be a form of flattery after all, and all I want is for people to know I understand them and empathize.

The yin and yang of it is that although I consider myself to be a good person, I sometimes slip up. Word Thievery is among my charges. The others may be too many to list completely but the top ones are (get ready for this):

Taking the last of the toilet paper and not changing the roll;
Idling my car as I wait in the line-up at the Tim Horton's drive-thru (I know it's probably faster to go inside the store but sometimes I don't feel like it);
Leaving packages in my car that I think I will take out next time or until I have to put someone in the back seat;
Getting sucked into really bad straight-to-TV (and not even video) sappy, chick flick movies;
Channel surfing - my dad did it and now I do it - I'm afraid I'm going to miss something (and I really detest commercials);
Leaving the popcorn bag and empty pop cup at my seat at the movies for others to clean up;
Emitting a huge burp and then giving myself the highest rating on the burp-o-meter;
Calling my mother June Cleaver (to her face and while calling into her office) because she always dressed up for Dad coming home and told me never to leave the house without lipstick;
Getting a fake nose ring while away on a trip to prepare the fam for the real thing;
Tying my nephew's and niece's socks together EVERY TIME I saw them;
Letting one rip as the waiter walked by and waiting as my friend blamed him;
Leaving just enough time to get anywhere and thinking that half an hour is really enough time to drive to Scarborough... or Burlington... or Ajax - you get the picture;
Forcing friends to watch said chick flicks, or better yet, musicals like West Side Story and then threatening to recreate them in the grocery store.