Absolutely Broken
To say that everything is broken really isn't an overstatement. In this past week, I've had a complete breakdown of technology, job sassification, relationships, and health.
When my computers weren't 'throwing up' on me, I was being attacked by people who aren't brave enough to voice irriation at the people who actually have the power to change the source of irritation. It was just enough to push me over the edge to want to go from wanting to change the system to just doing enough to stay afloat until I can move on. Now if I can actually bring myself to go through the motions with anything is something that I have yet to see.
As far as relationships go, I'm so angry that I've allowed myself to be subjected to cruel remarks and mental tortue to the point that now, years later, I get intense fear of being "crazy" and "unstable" should I want to express caring for another person. The fact that I want exclusive relationships with people makes me "posessive" and "controlling." Basically, three years after the fact, I'm absolutely battling that awful internal voice telling me that should I pursue a relationship with anyone, I turn into Glenn Close from "Fatal Attraction." But yet my voice of reason keeps reminding me that the situation that I was in wasn't about me being crazy. It's absolutely not acting crazy to be very angry to be in an arrangement where I'm being lied to, mistreated and actually slapped across the face.
And I'm really working hard on believing that there's nothing wrong with me. Having people apologize when they've been mean to mean and call to see if I'm okay helps. It kills me, actually, to have someone show regard for my feelings. I'm not used to this.
But none of that really mattered after the doctor's office called on Friday morning. I have some abnormalities in routine testing, you see, and this means that on Wednesday, I go back and get checked over again. I'm pretty positive that it was just lab error and I'm going to be fine. It is a strange thought that I would have to potentially be too sexy for my hair and get to see first hand all the effects of physical agents I've studied for so many years.
Every day, I realize more and more, how fragile and fleeting life is and how we're just a heartbeat away from the great beyond. Moments like that make all the bullshit that we subject ourselves to just fade away. Who cares about spats and old grudges? There's no time for neuorses or hangups. As for me...I think all of this is going to be the catalyst for finally letting go of everything and just throwing myself into life and relationships with the knowledge that while it all won't always be rosy, having displeasure at a situation doesn't make a person crazy or wrong. It's just a sign that something's broken and needs to be rechecked and fixed. It's a sign that I need to start giving more regard to myself and first and foremost believing my own perceptions. Life's too short to dwell on the things that don't really matter when there are millions of things out there that do. And I take peace in knowing that whatever I find out this week, oddly enough, everything will be okay...
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Where is the Happy Place
Twenty minutes after midnight, I close my eyes and all the pain in my back from this 18 hour day fades. The grittiness in my eyes, the frustration in my lungs, the cut on my hand, the pounding in my brain...for a moment it is gone.
To say that today I suffered from a case of the Mondays is an obvious statement. From the moment I woke, feeling the crusty sting of a fresh stye on my left eyelid and heaviness in my chest from lack of sleep, I knew that it'd be a grand task to keep the spirits high. Cold breakfast sandwich, meetings that drag on, and news that a wall is growing old and dropping its blocks were the good morning news of the day. I thought I made some prgress with reports, etc and then hit a brick wall. I'm nearly positive that I'm mocked behind my back...is it that obvious that I'm such a stupid girl? A joke? Out of my league in more ways than several? The screen on my home laptop went out tonight. I rushed it to Best Buy's Geek Squad with service plan in hand and proud that I had the where-with to put it in a case and be calm and matter of fact, rather than wrapping it in a blanket and huffing and crying, as many of my kind are expected to do. Even ordering a muffin from Starbucks on University was a chore. Every time I requested something that they just could not do, I resisted the urge to counter with "the one at Grand Prairie can do it." There I go again, always comparing things to others...
The "G" key snapped off The Beast., my work laptop. I shoved it back into the keyboard and willed it to stay put...telling it that it knows what's good for it. I'm surrounded by people that bully and brute toward the desired outcome. Shouldn't it be natural that I'd want to eventually lean that way too? Afterall, it works for them. I feel I'm nearing a crossroads with my life, but have no idea which path to take. I sure never thought I'd end up where I am now. Somedays, everything in the universe is pushing me to just run away and try again while others, it seems like I have to look for reasons not to stay. But really, how many 'stay' reasons do I have? Most of them are like a celestial cycle and once in a blue moon, I could see myself here forever. Then I realize I'm being foolish and try to look for other reasons and signs. Perhaps I get sidetracked before I can truly realize that there just aren't any there. Nights like tonight, I feel utterly adrift at sea.
So the only logical thing to do is to go to the happy place. Gotta love the happy place, that spot in your mind where all is good and tomorrow shines as a brighter day. Sometimes, if I think about my happy place hard enough, it actually materializes before me. Then there are times like right now, where all the wishing in the world won't make my Monday seem better.
...The "G" button just snapped off my keyboard again. I "glued" it on there with clear nail polish. It worked on my old saxophone, why not this computer?
Anyway, I guess the only rational thing to do at a moment like this is to crawl in bed and try again "tomorrow." The idea of sleep is phenomenal...so I suppose for now, that is my happy place.
Twenty minutes after midnight, I close my eyes and all the pain in my back from this 18 hour day fades. The grittiness in my eyes, the frustration in my lungs, the cut on my hand, the pounding in my brain...for a moment it is gone.
To say that today I suffered from a case of the Mondays is an obvious statement. From the moment I woke, feeling the crusty sting of a fresh stye on my left eyelid and heaviness in my chest from lack of sleep, I knew that it'd be a grand task to keep the spirits high. Cold breakfast sandwich, meetings that drag on, and news that a wall is growing old and dropping its blocks were the good morning news of the day. I thought I made some prgress with reports, etc and then hit a brick wall. I'm nearly positive that I'm mocked behind my back...is it that obvious that I'm such a stupid girl? A joke? Out of my league in more ways than several? The screen on my home laptop went out tonight. I rushed it to Best Buy's Geek Squad with service plan in hand and proud that I had the where-with to put it in a case and be calm and matter of fact, rather than wrapping it in a blanket and huffing and crying, as many of my kind are expected to do. Even ordering a muffin from Starbucks on University was a chore. Every time I requested something that they just could not do, I resisted the urge to counter with "the one at Grand Prairie can do it." There I go again, always comparing things to others...
The "G" key snapped off The Beast., my work laptop. I shoved it back into the keyboard and willed it to stay put...telling it that it knows what's good for it. I'm surrounded by people that bully and brute toward the desired outcome. Shouldn't it be natural that I'd want to eventually lean that way too? Afterall, it works for them. I feel I'm nearing a crossroads with my life, but have no idea which path to take. I sure never thought I'd end up where I am now. Somedays, everything in the universe is pushing me to just run away and try again while others, it seems like I have to look for reasons not to stay. But really, how many 'stay' reasons do I have? Most of them are like a celestial cycle and once in a blue moon, I could see myself here forever. Then I realize I'm being foolish and try to look for other reasons and signs. Perhaps I get sidetracked before I can truly realize that there just aren't any there. Nights like tonight, I feel utterly adrift at sea.
So the only logical thing to do is to go to the happy place. Gotta love the happy place, that spot in your mind where all is good and tomorrow shines as a brighter day. Sometimes, if I think about my happy place hard enough, it actually materializes before me. Then there are times like right now, where all the wishing in the world won't make my Monday seem better.
...The "G" button just snapped off my keyboard again. I "glued" it on there with clear nail polish. It worked on my old saxophone, why not this computer?
Anyway, I guess the only rational thing to do at a moment like this is to crawl in bed and try again "tomorrow." The idea of sleep is phenomenal...so I suppose for now, that is my happy place.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Check Your Demographic at the Door
On Friday afternoon, I had to complete some career planning forms with my supervisor. One of the items to provide information for is relocation contingencies. Parameters on my move could have been based on 1) Having a spouse, 2) Having children, or 3) Having a spouse and children.
I have none of these. Yet there was no box for me to check. In order to move on through the software, I had to check that any relocation is affecting my theoretical spouse. Whatever happened to consideration for the singles? I want my box that says I will move whereever I please, not having to consider husbands and children, seeking only a place that offers more money, more fun, more life satisfaction opportunities! I want a box that says I'm holding out for something spectacular and was willing to wait rather than just do what should logically come next.
Go to college. Get a job. Get married. Have children.... What happened to the adventure? What happened to it being okay to be alone for a while and learn how to live with one's self and only one's self? And is there ever really a logical order for anything? There's no set way to do things, right? Why the stigma of being alone?
But I never really came up with any good answers for this as I just checked the box for the theoretical spouse and moved along, knowing that it was more pragmatism and less wishful thinking. I need to get promoted to something else. Maybe then I can start having an actual rather than theoretical life.
On Friday afternoon, I had to complete some career planning forms with my supervisor. One of the items to provide information for is relocation contingencies. Parameters on my move could have been based on 1) Having a spouse, 2) Having children, or 3) Having a spouse and children.
I have none of these. Yet there was no box for me to check. In order to move on through the software, I had to check that any relocation is affecting my theoretical spouse. Whatever happened to consideration for the singles? I want my box that says I will move whereever I please, not having to consider husbands and children, seeking only a place that offers more money, more fun, more life satisfaction opportunities! I want a box that says I'm holding out for something spectacular and was willing to wait rather than just do what should logically come next.
Go to college. Get a job. Get married. Have children.... What happened to the adventure? What happened to it being okay to be alone for a while and learn how to live with one's self and only one's self? And is there ever really a logical order for anything? There's no set way to do things, right? Why the stigma of being alone?
But I never really came up with any good answers for this as I just checked the box for the theoretical spouse and moved along, knowing that it was more pragmatism and less wishful thinking. I need to get promoted to something else. Maybe then I can start having an actual rather than theoretical life.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Leave the Lion Alone!!!
There's a sculpture of a lion just outside of Bergner's at the fancy outdoor mall. It's completely anatomically correct. This is something that I noticed but just disregarded after realizing this because really, what does it matter if a lion sculpture sports a pair of testiclees? Lions do have those, you know.
Apparently as the youth of Peoria saunter by this bronze creature, they just have to stop and...manipulate the genitalia on this lion. And this really bothers Barista Alicia. The taking of the pictures, the repositioning of the lights so that they shine upon the testiclees in all their bronze glory...she'll see this happen while gazing through the window of the coffee shop and just flip out that the kids won't leave the lion alone.
Now, as a lion enthusiast, I'm all for bronze lion rights. However, I see greater humor not in the groping and assualt of said lion, but rather the reaction of the people who witness this every day. Last night, while tidying the shop, I'd watch her suddenly just flip out and start shouting at the window "LEAVE THE LION'S BALLS ALONE! MY GOD PEOPLE!!!" Now picture this multiple times a day...one moment you're trying to get a cup of coffee and the next, your barista is screaming about lion balls.
There's a sculpture of a lion just outside of Bergner's at the fancy outdoor mall. It's completely anatomically correct. This is something that I noticed but just disregarded after realizing this because really, what does it matter if a lion sculpture sports a pair of testiclees? Lions do have those, you know.
Apparently as the youth of Peoria saunter by this bronze creature, they just have to stop and...manipulate the genitalia on this lion. And this really bothers Barista Alicia. The taking of the pictures, the repositioning of the lights so that they shine upon the testiclees in all their bronze glory...she'll see this happen while gazing through the window of the coffee shop and just flip out that the kids won't leave the lion alone.
Now, as a lion enthusiast, I'm all for bronze lion rights. However, I see greater humor not in the groping and assualt of said lion, but rather the reaction of the people who witness this every day. Last night, while tidying the shop, I'd watch her suddenly just flip out and start shouting at the window "LEAVE THE LION'S BALLS ALONE! MY GOD PEOPLE!!!" Now picture this multiple times a day...one moment you're trying to get a cup of coffee and the next, your barista is screaming about lion balls.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
V for Victory Day
Today is/was Valentine's Day. And, I never really noticed.
I started the day with a pain in my shoulder, but a spring in my step knowing that warmer weather and brighter days are just around the corner. I was going to use this post to wax philosophical about Valentine's Day is about loving yourself and being with friends, but instead I'll just say that today was a Victory. I had a good day, didn't eat any of that nasty chocolate, spread joy to the world, and reveled in the fact that today was a beautiful day.
Today is/was Valentine's Day. And, I never really noticed.
I started the day with a pain in my shoulder, but a spring in my step knowing that warmer weather and brighter days are just around the corner. I was going to use this post to wax philosophical about Valentine's Day is about loving yourself and being with friends, but instead I'll just say that today was a Victory. I had a good day, didn't eat any of that nasty chocolate, spread joy to the world, and reveled in the fact that today was a beautiful day.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Misogynist Manual
Tonight, I did something that is akin to giving money to the nazi party. I bought the Tucker Max book. And I was so excited about the book that I left, forgetting to pick up a copy of the new Vanity Fair where Lindsey Lohen talks about doing drugs and is scantily clad on the cover.
As someone who considers herselves to be on the front line of feminism, I should feel bad about reading - let alone buying - a text chronicling the exploits of a self-professed womanizer. This text should serve as a warning, but instead it's entertaining. I could look for deeper meaning in this collection of stories or analyze the author as sad or making a "cry for help." But read the stories about the sushi pants, almost getting killed by cowboys, and trying...sex in a very uncomfortable place (like in the back of a volkswagon?) and you'll laugh. A lot. And then read it aloud for the other people in the car on the way home from St. Louis.
Tonight, I did something that is akin to giving money to the nazi party. I bought the Tucker Max book. And I was so excited about the book that I left, forgetting to pick up a copy of the new Vanity Fair where Lindsey Lohen talks about doing drugs and is scantily clad on the cover.
As someone who considers herselves to be on the front line of feminism, I should feel bad about reading - let alone buying - a text chronicling the exploits of a self-professed womanizer. This text should serve as a warning, but instead it's entertaining. I could look for deeper meaning in this collection of stories or analyze the author as sad or making a "cry for help." But read the stories about the sushi pants, almost getting killed by cowboys, and trying...sex in a very uncomfortable place (like in the back of a volkswagon?) and you'll laugh. A lot. And then read it aloud for the other people in the car on the way home from St. Louis.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Inconceivable
Sometimes we're faced with possibilities that just can't be conceptualized. We can't do this because the idea is so far fetched or fantastic...sometimes the thought is too horrible to even comprehend. I feel this way when (even though I try) I can't even imagine things being any other way.
There are some people in this world that I just can't imagine not being around. This could mean in my life in some capacity and this can mean even walking the earth's surface. Certain people not being around in any capacity at all - something I can't even imagine and yet it's something that someday will inevitably have to be faced.
My uncle was in St. Louis all week with congestive heart failure.
A good friend is in ICU in Paducah.
I have no clue what the world would be like without these people in it. All I can say for sure is that it would never be the same.
Sometimes we're faced with possibilities that just can't be conceptualized. We can't do this because the idea is so far fetched or fantastic...sometimes the thought is too horrible to even comprehend. I feel this way when (even though I try) I can't even imagine things being any other way.
There are some people in this world that I just can't imagine not being around. This could mean in my life in some capacity and this can mean even walking the earth's surface. Certain people not being around in any capacity at all - something I can't even imagine and yet it's something that someday will inevitably have to be faced.
My uncle was in St. Louis all week with congestive heart failure.
A good friend is in ICU in Paducah.
I have no clue what the world would be like without these people in it. All I can say for sure is that it would never be the same.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
"Shut the F*** Up, Donny"
Today I had a Theodore Donald Kerabatsos moment...
I'm sitting in a meeting and of course things got off track. The topic of conversation shifted to this book about the 5 love languages. Immediately, all the men in the room were intrigued and asking questions. I really wasn't paying attention, being too busy manning the computer and trying to save the world.
I overheard something about love languages and spun around in my chair and said "I don't think anything can sound romantic in German. It's such an aggressive language." Everyone stopped and looked at me and then just went back to talking about ways of sweet talking their wives.
At that moment, I could hear the voice of Walter Sobchak shouting over my shoulder to shut up. Some days I'm just oblivious to the world around me.
...I am the walrus...
Today I had a Theodore Donald Kerabatsos moment...
I'm sitting in a meeting and of course things got off track. The topic of conversation shifted to this book about the 5 love languages. Immediately, all the men in the room were intrigued and asking questions. I really wasn't paying attention, being too busy manning the computer and trying to save the world.
I overheard something about love languages and spun around in my chair and said "I don't think anything can sound romantic in German. It's such an aggressive language." Everyone stopped and looked at me and then just went back to talking about ways of sweet talking their wives.
At that moment, I could hear the voice of Walter Sobchak shouting over my shoulder to shut up. Some days I'm just oblivious to the world around me.
...I am the walrus...
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Closed Captioned
Tonight after stuffing myself with breadsticks and seriously considering buying a rabbit, I decided to swing past the gym on my way home and go for 3 miles on the elliptical trainer. Now, I wouldn't normally work out after Tuesday Night Out, but today a new girl in the building had "thin" and "hot" used as descriptive terms (vague, but it gets the point across) when pointing her out, so I felt it best to take my fatguttery to the gym and sweat away in vain over the pipe dream that someday I would be described as such. ...After reading that last sentence, I just realized that someone has just written themselves a voucher for one free cockpunch.
Anyway...
I'm hoofing away, arms flailing, NIN blasting on my ipod when I found myself drawn to the episode of Boston Legal on the television screen. This show holds much appeal in theory in that it features both Captain Kirk AND Murphy Brown in the courts of law with Mr. Sinister Hotness, James Spader. I've never watched an entire episode, yet even watching the captions at the bottom of the screen, I found myself glued to the screen. Keep in mind that when "running" in place at a resistance a 10 (feel the burn!), it's hard to follow a storyline, however, I was anxiously awaiting to see if Murphy Brown had won her case. When the time came for the reading of the verdict, I was riveted to the screen. Beads of sweat pouring down my face, sweat staining my shirt, the defendant is found...
and then the captions just stopped. It just stopped!
There are some things in this world that should work consistently. Air bags, jet engines...one could probably argue a case for cellular service. Close captioning should work all of the time. It's not so much that it's a life/death situation but rather that I've noticed that this never consistently works. Most closed captioning is garbled gibberish. This is way wrong. If I were one of those sue-happy people, I'd scream class action lawsuit and rally the hearing impaired over this.
Tonight after stuffing myself with breadsticks and seriously considering buying a rabbit, I decided to swing past the gym on my way home and go for 3 miles on the elliptical trainer. Now, I wouldn't normally work out after Tuesday Night Out, but today a new girl in the building had "thin" and "hot" used as descriptive terms (vague, but it gets the point across) when pointing her out, so I felt it best to take my fatguttery to the gym and sweat away in vain over the pipe dream that someday I would be described as such. ...After reading that last sentence, I just realized that someone has just written themselves a voucher for one free cockpunch.
Anyway...
I'm hoofing away, arms flailing, NIN blasting on my ipod when I found myself drawn to the episode of Boston Legal on the television screen. This show holds much appeal in theory in that it features both Captain Kirk AND Murphy Brown in the courts of law with Mr. Sinister Hotness, James Spader. I've never watched an entire episode, yet even watching the captions at the bottom of the screen, I found myself glued to the screen. Keep in mind that when "running" in place at a resistance a 10 (feel the burn!), it's hard to follow a storyline, however, I was anxiously awaiting to see if Murphy Brown had won her case. When the time came for the reading of the verdict, I was riveted to the screen. Beads of sweat pouring down my face, sweat staining my shirt, the defendant is found...
and then the captions just stopped. It just stopped!
There are some things in this world that should work consistently. Air bags, jet engines...one could probably argue a case for cellular service. Close captioning should work all of the time. It's not so much that it's a life/death situation but rather that I've noticed that this never consistently works. Most closed captioning is garbled gibberish. This is way wrong. If I were one of those sue-happy people, I'd scream class action lawsuit and rally the hearing impaired over this.
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Sometimes I'll...
...wave my hand to the side and pretend I'm using Jedi powers to open the door when I pass through automatic doors.
...take off my shoes and rub the bottoms of my feet against textured surfaces because it feels good.
...put my fedora on top of the television and giggle because it looks like everyone on tv is wearing my hat.
...think about just getting in my car, turning off my phone, picking a random direction and just going awol for a week or two.
...I'll seriously think about getting a guinea pig.
...wish I could have beer for breakfast or lunch.
...I'll open an old calculus book and solve problems "for fun."
...take stuff apart and not be able to put it back together but be too embarassed to get help getting it back together.
...think about getting a pair of glasses without the prescription lenses to sport over my contact lenses because I think I look cute in glasses, but not ones as thick as mine.
...scratch my back with a fork.
...wave my hand to the side and pretend I'm using Jedi powers to open the door when I pass through automatic doors.
...take off my shoes and rub the bottoms of my feet against textured surfaces because it feels good.
...put my fedora on top of the television and giggle because it looks like everyone on tv is wearing my hat.
...think about just getting in my car, turning off my phone, picking a random direction and just going awol for a week or two.
...I'll seriously think about getting a guinea pig.
...wish I could have beer for breakfast or lunch.
...I'll open an old calculus book and solve problems "for fun."
...take stuff apart and not be able to put it back together but be too embarassed to get help getting it back together.
...think about getting a pair of glasses without the prescription lenses to sport over my contact lenses because I think I look cute in glasses, but not ones as thick as mine.
...scratch my back with a fork.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Refreshingly Cold
My day in review:
Woke up at 5:45, turned off one alarm, turned on tv, sat down on bed and fell asleep until 7:04. Though I have no official hours, work starts at 8. As I'm driving into work at 5 'til 8, I see Nicole, who points and laughs. I feign distress, throwing my head back and a forearm over my forehead, all while operating a motor vehicle.
Meetings. Meetings. Meeting preparation.
Lunch. It was pizza day. Work is a lot like college in that everyone gets excited over the themed food days in the cafeteria. I sat with the girls and at one point we all turned around and stared at one of the engineers behind us at the cash register. I suggested we pass him a note during study hall. We discussed the social awkwardness of our coworkers and then traded notes on how to react to the building "boob lookers."
Monthly take cover drill. I'm starting to enjoy the emergency drills if nothing else, for the sheer joy of throwing a wrench in other peoples' afternoon plans. Cari was right, I am "becoming evil."
Two more meetings. I looked at someone's chair and decided to not even try to fix it, instead opting to have it replaced with a new one. ...Must remember to follow up on that next week. "Hey, how's that new chair working out for you?" I hung out in other people's cubicles and watched them have too much fun with a pair of ear plugs, fashioning them into a noose, then a headpiece (with antennae), and finally a headband, complete with a "Lord of the Dance" type in-chair gyration. Then we laughed at the engineering pit across the hall and how we could hear them laughing and yelling "BULLSHIT." It was even funnier when the lifer in the adjacent desk turns around and said "What are they smoking?" I returned to my desk and tinkered with intra-office instant messanger and then turned around and noticed that someone had drawn a picture of Yoda on my markerboard.
Left work. Wallored in self pity for 15 minutes. Cheered up. Dumped uncooked spaghetti all over my feet. Decided to eat the other part of that Bennigan's Monte Cristo sammich...a quick note about this sammich: Ham, Turkey, Cheese. Sounds normal so far, right? Deep fried - the whole damn thing. Then coated in powdered sugar and served up with a cup of raspberry jam. Who in the world thought of this? I consider that one of those 'experience foods.' You've experienced them and then you order something new off the menu.
Trip to the mall for a mani-pedi. Had a stand in for my usual nail lady. I left there wearing flip flops with my pant legs rolled up to my knees. My usual nail lady once scurried outside to stop me as I headed out with pant legs still rolled. This guy was kind of like...fend for yourself. So I walked the quarter mile or so to my car, the freezing temperatures stinging my bare legs. I could have been irritated, but instead decided that I'd consider the cold to be refreshing.
But that's just me...I try to find the benefit/good in everything.
Three days down. Two left to go.
My day in review:
Woke up at 5:45, turned off one alarm, turned on tv, sat down on bed and fell asleep until 7:04. Though I have no official hours, work starts at 8. As I'm driving into work at 5 'til 8, I see Nicole, who points and laughs. I feign distress, throwing my head back and a forearm over my forehead, all while operating a motor vehicle.
Meetings. Meetings. Meeting preparation.
Lunch. It was pizza day. Work is a lot like college in that everyone gets excited over the themed food days in the cafeteria. I sat with the girls and at one point we all turned around and stared at one of the engineers behind us at the cash register. I suggested we pass him a note during study hall. We discussed the social awkwardness of our coworkers and then traded notes on how to react to the building "boob lookers."
Monthly take cover drill. I'm starting to enjoy the emergency drills if nothing else, for the sheer joy of throwing a wrench in other peoples' afternoon plans. Cari was right, I am "becoming evil."
Two more meetings. I looked at someone's chair and decided to not even try to fix it, instead opting to have it replaced with a new one. ...Must remember to follow up on that next week. "Hey, how's that new chair working out for you?" I hung out in other people's cubicles and watched them have too much fun with a pair of ear plugs, fashioning them into a noose, then a headpiece (with antennae), and finally a headband, complete with a "Lord of the Dance" type in-chair gyration. Then we laughed at the engineering pit across the hall and how we could hear them laughing and yelling "BULLSHIT." It was even funnier when the lifer in the adjacent desk turns around and said "What are they smoking?" I returned to my desk and tinkered with intra-office instant messanger and then turned around and noticed that someone had drawn a picture of Yoda on my markerboard.
Left work. Wallored in self pity for 15 minutes. Cheered up. Dumped uncooked spaghetti all over my feet. Decided to eat the other part of that Bennigan's Monte Cristo sammich...a quick note about this sammich: Ham, Turkey, Cheese. Sounds normal so far, right? Deep fried - the whole damn thing. Then coated in powdered sugar and served up with a cup of raspberry jam. Who in the world thought of this? I consider that one of those 'experience foods.' You've experienced them and then you order something new off the menu.
Trip to the mall for a mani-pedi. Had a stand in for my usual nail lady. I left there wearing flip flops with my pant legs rolled up to my knees. My usual nail lady once scurried outside to stop me as I headed out with pant legs still rolled. This guy was kind of like...fend for yourself. So I walked the quarter mile or so to my car, the freezing temperatures stinging my bare legs. I could have been irritated, but instead decided that I'd consider the cold to be refreshing.
But that's just me...I try to find the benefit/good in everything.
Three days down. Two left to go.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
Wednesday, January 25, 2006
Obligatory Showgirls Post
The wonder/horror that is Showgirls is currently on Vh1. This means I'll stay up too late watching this movie that is so bad that it falls into territory that's well...good.
Why do I like this film? It's certainly not for the nudity. For starters, those ladies have nothing that I don't see on a daily basis when exiting the shower. Also, it's not that sensational or naked. The dialogue is clunky, the way it's shot looks dated, and the actions of the characters make no sense. The idea of motive is there, but not really. I think Nomi Malone has some sort of a behavior disorder. And how about Kyle Mclaughlin's Flock of Seagulls-inspired hair? Gina Gershon comes away unscathed as always. But the biggest "what's up with this?" in this movie is the dancing itself. This is a movie about dancing (granted, with no clothes on, but dancing nevertheless) and all the moves look down right grand mal.
Maybe this movie speaks to me on some sort of a subconscious level. It is a movie about chasing your dreams, no matter how sordid and low brow they may seem. Afterall, not everyone gets to grow up and be an astronaut...
The wonder/horror that is Showgirls is currently on Vh1. This means I'll stay up too late watching this movie that is so bad that it falls into territory that's well...good.
Why do I like this film? It's certainly not for the nudity. For starters, those ladies have nothing that I don't see on a daily basis when exiting the shower. Also, it's not that sensational or naked. The dialogue is clunky, the way it's shot looks dated, and the actions of the characters make no sense. The idea of motive is there, but not really. I think Nomi Malone has some sort of a behavior disorder. And how about Kyle Mclaughlin's Flock of Seagulls-inspired hair? Gina Gershon comes away unscathed as always. But the biggest "what's up with this?" in this movie is the dancing itself. This is a movie about dancing (granted, with no clothes on, but dancing nevertheless) and all the moves look down right grand mal.
Maybe this movie speaks to me on some sort of a subconscious level. It is a movie about chasing your dreams, no matter how sordid and low brow they may seem. Afterall, not everyone gets to grow up and be an astronaut...
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Tiny Cat Pants' Guide to Illinois
Allison sent this link to me and it was awesome. So true, so true...
Illinoisans have two pastimes--building towns right next to each other, even though there's plenty of room to spread out* and experiencing odd things.
We'll get to the odd things in a second, but let's dwell on the twin cities phenomenon. Now, anyone who's ever looked at a road atlas can easily discern that the farther east you go in the Midwest, the more accommodating and easy to get along with people are. Ohio? Who doesn't get along with people from Ohio? Indiana? Yes, it's disconcerting that their Amish people drive trucks** and that everyone knows either Axl Rose or John Mellencamp or both, but, over all, okay place. Then you have Illinois, where we get a little grouchier--downstate*** hates Chicago, Chicago hates downstate; everyone who didn't go to the University of Illinois hates the University of Illinois and the University of Illinois hates them; coal miners hate the farmers; people of northern Italian descent egg the houses of people of southern Italian descent; people whose families came over from Germany 250 years ago still refuse to speak English; and so on, but as long as everyone stays in their designated area, there's very little overt hostility. Then there's Iowa, where it seems nice and peaceful, but only because there's no one in the state who's still talking to each other.
So, the twin town thing in Illinois is peculiar, but I suspect it's born out of our inherent grouchy tolerance. You can almost imagine how it happened in, say, Bloomington/Normal. The settlers were like "We need a name that will let people know that this is a happening place. Things are busting out--this is a booming town. No, that implies industry. We don't want industry. Let's call it a blooming town. Yes, that's it. Bloomington." "Industry? You jackasses don't want any industry? What kind of freaks don't want any jobs in their town? Fine. You do things your way. We'll be here on our side of this creek in 'Normal people's town.' You can call it Normal for short."
And the towns, separated more by ideology than inches, soon grow intertwined until you can't tell where one town starts and the other stops.
But, if you're going to basically tolerate the people you don't like who live near you--thus ruling out a great deal of ethnic and religious violence****--you end up with not a whole lot to do.
Which is, I suppose, how some lucky towns end up with some strange thing, like the Watseka Wonder or the Mad Gasser of Mattoon. Or they end up implementing really strange community improvement ideas.
Take for instance, Aledo, Illinois (home of Suzy Bogguss). Even though the town has, maybe, 3,000 people in it, they decided to rename all of the streets to make it easier for folks to find their way around town. Only two streets were left with actual street names--College Avenue and Main Street. All the other streets were given numbers--with streets being east-west roads and avenues being north-south roads.
You're still not seeing the lunacy, I know, but bear with me. Each street or avenue was numbered, starting with 2nd, from either College or Main. So, there was a North 2nd Street and a South 2nd Street and a West 2nd Avenue and an East 2nd Avenue. Which means that, in a town small enough you can walk across it and still meet friends for lunch up at the Garden Family Restaurant, you can stand at the corner of 2nd and 2nd at four different places in town.
Really, you almost must see it to believe it.
*See Urbana/Champaign, Bloomington/Normal, LaSalle/Peru, Rock Island/Davenport/Moline/East Moline/Bettendorf/Milan (better known as the Quad Cities. Yes, everyone knows there are six cities. Don't be petulant.), etc.
**It's a little known fact that most traffic accidents in rural Indiana are caused by Illinois drivers going "What the fuck? Is that an Amish dude driving that truck behind me?" and turning around to take a look and ending up in a culvert.
***"Downstate" constituting anything south of I-80 or west of Aurora, thus leading to the peculiarness of Galena somehow being downstate of Chicago.
****Though it'd surely be something to watch the Lutherans and the Methodists take on those young upstart Assemblies of God.
Allison sent this link to me and it was awesome. So true, so true...
Illinoisans have two pastimes--building towns right next to each other, even though there's plenty of room to spread out* and experiencing odd things.
We'll get to the odd things in a second, but let's dwell on the twin cities phenomenon. Now, anyone who's ever looked at a road atlas can easily discern that the farther east you go in the Midwest, the more accommodating and easy to get along with people are. Ohio? Who doesn't get along with people from Ohio? Indiana? Yes, it's disconcerting that their Amish people drive trucks** and that everyone knows either Axl Rose or John Mellencamp or both, but, over all, okay place. Then you have Illinois, where we get a little grouchier--downstate*** hates Chicago, Chicago hates downstate; everyone who didn't go to the University of Illinois hates the University of Illinois and the University of Illinois hates them; coal miners hate the farmers; people of northern Italian descent egg the houses of people of southern Italian descent; people whose families came over from Germany 250 years ago still refuse to speak English; and so on, but as long as everyone stays in their designated area, there's very little overt hostility. Then there's Iowa, where it seems nice and peaceful, but only because there's no one in the state who's still talking to each other.
So, the twin town thing in Illinois is peculiar, but I suspect it's born out of our inherent grouchy tolerance. You can almost imagine how it happened in, say, Bloomington/Normal. The settlers were like "We need a name that will let people know that this is a happening place. Things are busting out--this is a booming town. No, that implies industry. We don't want industry. Let's call it a blooming town. Yes, that's it. Bloomington." "Industry? You jackasses don't want any industry? What kind of freaks don't want any jobs in their town? Fine. You do things your way. We'll be here on our side of this creek in 'Normal people's town.' You can call it Normal for short."
And the towns, separated more by ideology than inches, soon grow intertwined until you can't tell where one town starts and the other stops.
But, if you're going to basically tolerate the people you don't like who live near you--thus ruling out a great deal of ethnic and religious violence****--you end up with not a whole lot to do.
Which is, I suppose, how some lucky towns end up with some strange thing, like the Watseka Wonder or the Mad Gasser of Mattoon. Or they end up implementing really strange community improvement ideas.
Take for instance, Aledo, Illinois (home of Suzy Bogguss). Even though the town has, maybe, 3,000 people in it, they decided to rename all of the streets to make it easier for folks to find their way around town. Only two streets were left with actual street names--College Avenue and Main Street. All the other streets were given numbers--with streets being east-west roads and avenues being north-south roads.
You're still not seeing the lunacy, I know, but bear with me. Each street or avenue was numbered, starting with 2nd, from either College or Main. So, there was a North 2nd Street and a South 2nd Street and a West 2nd Avenue and an East 2nd Avenue. Which means that, in a town small enough you can walk across it and still meet friends for lunch up at the Garden Family Restaurant, you can stand at the corner of 2nd and 2nd at four different places in town.
Really, you almost must see it to believe it.
*See Urbana/Champaign, Bloomington/Normal, LaSalle/Peru, Rock Island/Davenport/Moline/East Moline/Bettendorf/Milan (better known as the Quad Cities. Yes, everyone knows there are six cities. Don't be petulant.), etc.
**It's a little known fact that most traffic accidents in rural Indiana are caused by Illinois drivers going "What the fuck? Is that an Amish dude driving that truck behind me?" and turning around to take a look and ending up in a culvert.
***"Downstate" constituting anything south of I-80 or west of Aurora, thus leading to the peculiarness of Galena somehow being downstate of Chicago.
****Though it'd surely be something to watch the Lutherans and the Methodists take on those young upstart Assemblies of God.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Hurts So Good
I forsee duckwalking into work tomorrow as I let my arms and legs have it at the gym these past two days. Throw in some super situps and I'll be good to go until the next gym session. Though, evertime I find myself suspended over the floor, using my (soon to be) awesome abs to lift myself back upright, I can envision the arm on the device I use snapping off, sending me facefirst into the floor. I do this for two songs, alternating between left side of waist, right side of waist, and back muscles, going until each group is fatigued and then repeating until I've gone through two whole songs. Even though I've been listening to a lot of Pink Floyd lately, I dare not to do this routine to any of their songs (as a lot of them are 15 minute-ers or more).
It's becoming increasingly apparent what an integral part of fitness the ipod has become. Choice of music is essential for ensuring that a workout goes well. Obviously the fast stuff is great for cardio...stuff from Madonna or Gwen Steffani is good. I also find that My Chemical Romance helps me keep on running. When it comes to lifting weights or wailing on the abs, I'll listen to stuff from Nine Inch Nails or Jay-Z. For some reason, I like alt country and/or rockabilly stuff for lifting and ab work. I like more interesting music for the last set of cardio - this is where having some Richard Cheese in que is great. It's funny enough that it keeps my spirits high and I make a deal with myself that if I go an extra couple of miles that I'll keep listening to the music.
Today I worked out for almost two hours. The first 45+ minutes was cardio followed by arms routine, followed by more cardio. As I was completing my second set of cardio, I ran into stair-stepper extraordinaire (and all around awesome gal) Christa and spent the next hour bike riding and treadmilling while chatting. It makes the hour fly by. Gave the stairstepper a whirl, but not only is it rough on my knees, I have no aptitude for using this device. At least I'll always have my love, the elliptical trainer.
And yes, once again I saw a buck naked lady in the locker room.
I forsee duckwalking into work tomorrow as I let my arms and legs have it at the gym these past two days. Throw in some super situps and I'll be good to go until the next gym session. Though, evertime I find myself suspended over the floor, using my (soon to be) awesome abs to lift myself back upright, I can envision the arm on the device I use snapping off, sending me facefirst into the floor. I do this for two songs, alternating between left side of waist, right side of waist, and back muscles, going until each group is fatigued and then repeating until I've gone through two whole songs. Even though I've been listening to a lot of Pink Floyd lately, I dare not to do this routine to any of their songs (as a lot of them are 15 minute-ers or more).
It's becoming increasingly apparent what an integral part of fitness the ipod has become. Choice of music is essential for ensuring that a workout goes well. Obviously the fast stuff is great for cardio...stuff from Madonna or Gwen Steffani is good. I also find that My Chemical Romance helps me keep on running. When it comes to lifting weights or wailing on the abs, I'll listen to stuff from Nine Inch Nails or Jay-Z. For some reason, I like alt country and/or rockabilly stuff for lifting and ab work. I like more interesting music for the last set of cardio - this is where having some Richard Cheese in que is great. It's funny enough that it keeps my spirits high and I make a deal with myself that if I go an extra couple of miles that I'll keep listening to the music.
Today I worked out for almost two hours. The first 45+ minutes was cardio followed by arms routine, followed by more cardio. As I was completing my second set of cardio, I ran into stair-stepper extraordinaire (and all around awesome gal) Christa and spent the next hour bike riding and treadmilling while chatting. It makes the hour fly by. Gave the stairstepper a whirl, but not only is it rough on my knees, I have no aptitude for using this device. At least I'll always have my love, the elliptical trainer.
And yes, once again I saw a buck naked lady in the locker room.
Monday, January 16, 2006
Can't Keep My Eyes from the Circling Skies
Somehow, I managed to find the LBL airport yesterday afternoon. It's wonderful - on top of a hill, in the middle of the woods, loveliness surrounding it. The kind of imagery well suited for sharing, but photos just don't do it justice.
After standing at the top of that hill, I would like to get a pilots license so that I could fly into beautiful airstrips on hilltops and go places like that at a moment's notice.
Somehow, I managed to find the LBL airport yesterday afternoon. It's wonderful - on top of a hill, in the middle of the woods, loveliness surrounding it. The kind of imagery well suited for sharing, but photos just don't do it justice.
After standing at the top of that hill, I would like to get a pilots license so that I could fly into beautiful airstrips on hilltops and go places like that at a moment's notice.
Friday, January 13, 2006
The Weatherman Says Fair
When I left for work this morning, a thick and slushy snowfall was rapidly coating everything in sight. Chagrined that I forgot to park my car in the garage last night, I scraped off the soupy sludge of frozen ice and water before starting my 15 mile journey to work. Not caring the exact time I reached my desk, I decided to stop at Starbucks for caffinated fortification in the form of a vanilla soy latte.
Once I arrived at work, I wasn't 10 steps past my car when my work cell phone popped out of my pocket and skidded across the wet pavement. My phone is dead. It's not dead-dead, but rather...zombie dead. It's sort of alive, but really not. It can do outgoing calls and incoming calls, but it won't ring and I can't say anything into it nor can I hear anything out of it. I spent all morning trying to fix it to no avail. I will be without a work cell until sometime late next week. And because my phone was dead, I didn't receive the call about a punctured oil pan in a truck "barfing" oil everywhere. On the bright side, I gave myself a lovely case of spreadsheet hypnosis and a case of paranoid dejection. I also went to Arby's with the admins and even that had a dark shadow cast over it - with personal problems abound and a sandwich that was subpar. Even the tea wasn't that great.
So sometime around 6, I left work...it's stopped slushing out but it's quite colder. I can't decide if I want to drive to my parents house tonight or wallow in ennui and give it a whirl tomorrow morning. Either way, there will be ennui involved.
And curly hair as I've decided to roll it all up on a whim. I want old school hair - with the wave in the bangs and everything. Everything old is new again, you know.
Speaking of old, I hit the quarter century sometime within the next 100 hours. Here's to another quarter century of holding it down.
When I left for work this morning, a thick and slushy snowfall was rapidly coating everything in sight. Chagrined that I forgot to park my car in the garage last night, I scraped off the soupy sludge of frozen ice and water before starting my 15 mile journey to work. Not caring the exact time I reached my desk, I decided to stop at Starbucks for caffinated fortification in the form of a vanilla soy latte.
Once I arrived at work, I wasn't 10 steps past my car when my work cell phone popped out of my pocket and skidded across the wet pavement. My phone is dead. It's not dead-dead, but rather...zombie dead. It's sort of alive, but really not. It can do outgoing calls and incoming calls, but it won't ring and I can't say anything into it nor can I hear anything out of it. I spent all morning trying to fix it to no avail. I will be without a work cell until sometime late next week. And because my phone was dead, I didn't receive the call about a punctured oil pan in a truck "barfing" oil everywhere. On the bright side, I gave myself a lovely case of spreadsheet hypnosis and a case of paranoid dejection. I also went to Arby's with the admins and even that had a dark shadow cast over it - with personal problems abound and a sandwich that was subpar. Even the tea wasn't that great.
So sometime around 6, I left work...it's stopped slushing out but it's quite colder. I can't decide if I want to drive to my parents house tonight or wallow in ennui and give it a whirl tomorrow morning. Either way, there will be ennui involved.
And curly hair as I've decided to roll it all up on a whim. I want old school hair - with the wave in the bangs and everything. Everything old is new again, you know.
Speaking of old, I hit the quarter century sometime within the next 100 hours. Here's to another quarter century of holding it down.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Low Brows
I had my brows waxed at the salon tonight and she got them a little...a little much was taken from between the brows. Granted, I'm probably the only one that really notices it, but I'm paranoid that I'll end up looking like this girl I saw this weekend who had brows that didn't begin until her irises. I took some Smashbox Brow Tech in Taupe to them and the brows look decent, but I'm still adjusting to the look. At least my hair is good - it's extra floofy now and the long bangs are the pefect length to perfectly accentuate the adorableness that is me in safety glasses.
Sugar Bad!
While I don't believe in declaring myself to be "bad" for eating an unhealthy meal, I may do so on tonight's occasion of burger, fries, and regular soda from the standpoint that I feel like I've eaten a clump of dirt. So now my goal when choosing meals on the fly is to remember how gross I feel internally right now each time someone asks if I'd like fries with that.
The Forgotten Dog Dream
I woke up suddenly around 4 this morning when I had a dream that I had a dog but forgot that I had a dog? Confusing? In my dream, I was standing in my kitchen when this emaciated pomeranian comes crawling up to me and plops at my feet. I started to freak out and cry because I realized that I had a dog but forgot that I had a dog and thus hadn't been feeding it and it was on the verge of starving to death. And once again, all thoughts I've had of getting some sort of small critter have been dashed. I guess Turbo the Guinea Pig won't be a reality until later this year or maybe next. That's right folks - I want a little blonde guinea pig and I'm naming him or her "Turbo" because that's a damn cool name for a guinea pig.
First Birthday Gift?
I was given a garage/basement band cd today and it made me happy because not only did it come from an adorable boy, it's the style of music I loved when I was young. One of the songs has strong shades of Del Shannon. For years, my favorite song was "Runaway" and I'd listen to that and many other gems while drawing pictures of poodle skirts and hep cats. My parents are pretty sure that I wasn't fully aware that it wasn't 1957 until I hit the age of 10.
I had my brows waxed at the salon tonight and she got them a little...a little much was taken from between the brows. Granted, I'm probably the only one that really notices it, but I'm paranoid that I'll end up looking like this girl I saw this weekend who had brows that didn't begin until her irises. I took some Smashbox Brow Tech in Taupe to them and the brows look decent, but I'm still adjusting to the look. At least my hair is good - it's extra floofy now and the long bangs are the pefect length to perfectly accentuate the adorableness that is me in safety glasses.
Sugar Bad!
While I don't believe in declaring myself to be "bad" for eating an unhealthy meal, I may do so on tonight's occasion of burger, fries, and regular soda from the standpoint that I feel like I've eaten a clump of dirt. So now my goal when choosing meals on the fly is to remember how gross I feel internally right now each time someone asks if I'd like fries with that.
The Forgotten Dog Dream
I woke up suddenly around 4 this morning when I had a dream that I had a dog but forgot that I had a dog? Confusing? In my dream, I was standing in my kitchen when this emaciated pomeranian comes crawling up to me and plops at my feet. I started to freak out and cry because I realized that I had a dog but forgot that I had a dog and thus hadn't been feeding it and it was on the verge of starving to death. And once again, all thoughts I've had of getting some sort of small critter have been dashed. I guess Turbo the Guinea Pig won't be a reality until later this year or maybe next. That's right folks - I want a little blonde guinea pig and I'm naming him or her "Turbo" because that's a damn cool name for a guinea pig.
First Birthday Gift?
I was given a garage/basement band cd today and it made me happy because not only did it come from an adorable boy, it's the style of music I loved when I was young. One of the songs has strong shades of Del Shannon. For years, my favorite song was "Runaway" and I'd listen to that and many other gems while drawing pictures of poodle skirts and hep cats. My parents are pretty sure that I wasn't fully aware that it wasn't 1957 until I hit the age of 10.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Raves: First Edition, 2006
These are a few of my favorite things...
1. Conair hot lotion dispenser: not since teenage boys has one been so enthusiastic about lotion. Hot, soothing, lotion!
2. Black liquid eyeliner: as part of my pin up training, I got a retro makeover at the Clinique counter. Their liquid liner is superior to all because of the felt tip. I can really poke it down in the lashes without worrying about my brush going limp. This stuff is a revelation.
3. Tiny beaded necklaces: I found a bunch at Claire's for cheap. They're like the ones that Allison used to make, so there's definitely nostalgia value there. A simple way to dress up an outfit.
4. Starbucks Vanilla Soy Lattes: I've had 3 in the past 24 hours. It's like a meal in a cup and it's the perfect temperature. The soy taste is different and it leaves the most refreshing after-taste in my mouth as opposed to the after-funk of dairy lattes.
5. Uncle Tupelo: Check out the Anthology 88-93 to get a nice overview of the goodness that was this band. All hail my new favorite thing to come out of Belleville. Alt-country never sounded so good.
6. Pabst Blue Ribbon: I had one last week because he was buying. I've had a few other since then as I realized it's not that bad. And props to the iconic can. However, yes, this is just a phase.
7. Red, flannel sheets: Now all my bedroom needs is a "Hot Light." Methinks I'll drive over to the Krispy Kreme in Bloomington and steal theirs. But yes, it really adds that something that was missing to my room. Deep red tones are really growing on me. Oh, and the sheets are soft...quasi-floofy. And so you know, "floofy" is my favorite texture.
These are a few of my favorite things...
1. Conair hot lotion dispenser: not since teenage boys has one been so enthusiastic about lotion. Hot, soothing, lotion!
2. Black liquid eyeliner: as part of my pin up training, I got a retro makeover at the Clinique counter. Their liquid liner is superior to all because of the felt tip. I can really poke it down in the lashes without worrying about my brush going limp. This stuff is a revelation.
3. Tiny beaded necklaces: I found a bunch at Claire's for cheap. They're like the ones that Allison used to make, so there's definitely nostalgia value there. A simple way to dress up an outfit.
4. Starbucks Vanilla Soy Lattes: I've had 3 in the past 24 hours. It's like a meal in a cup and it's the perfect temperature. The soy taste is different and it leaves the most refreshing after-taste in my mouth as opposed to the after-funk of dairy lattes.
5. Uncle Tupelo: Check out the Anthology 88-93 to get a nice overview of the goodness that was this band. All hail my new favorite thing to come out of Belleville. Alt-country never sounded so good.
6. Pabst Blue Ribbon: I had one last week because he was buying. I've had a few other since then as I realized it's not that bad. And props to the iconic can. However, yes, this is just a phase.
7. Red, flannel sheets: Now all my bedroom needs is a "Hot Light." Methinks I'll drive over to the Krispy Kreme in Bloomington and steal theirs. But yes, it really adds that something that was missing to my room. Deep red tones are really growing on me. Oh, and the sheets are soft...quasi-floofy. And so you know, "floofy" is my favorite texture.
Good Bye Rose Colored Glasses
I started 2006 by smashing the rosy tinted lenses through which I tend to see the world by seeing the good for what it is: good; and the bad for how it is: bad. No coloring of perceptions or hopes or dreams or chances or (dare I say it)...possibilities. Just the cold, hard facts in front of me.
...And it's been some time since I've felt so at peace with the world.
I don't even feel hopeful. I feel brave and amused by all that is forthcoming. Surely the future holds more adventures and more of the funny little things that make life...life. Who cares of deeper meaning when living in such a strange world. I'm striving to appreciate things how they are and not for how they could be. Good times, bad times, just the times - all are only what we make of it. Seeing things exactly as they are and appreciating them as such shall possibly be one of the roads to a life well lived.
I started 2006 by smashing the rosy tinted lenses through which I tend to see the world by seeing the good for what it is: good; and the bad for how it is: bad. No coloring of perceptions or hopes or dreams or chances or (dare I say it)...possibilities. Just the cold, hard facts in front of me.
...And it's been some time since I've felt so at peace with the world.
I don't even feel hopeful. I feel brave and amused by all that is forthcoming. Surely the future holds more adventures and more of the funny little things that make life...life. Who cares of deeper meaning when living in such a strange world. I'm striving to appreciate things how they are and not for how they could be. Good times, bad times, just the times - all are only what we make of it. Seeing things exactly as they are and appreciating them as such shall possibly be one of the roads to a life well lived.
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