This Changes Everything
I have an opportunity I'm thinking about taking. Regardless of what I decide to do, two things are certain: I may not leave but I'm not staying where I am, and a lot of things will change and I guess I'll just know where the chips land when the smoke clears. Oh, another certainty being that I'll be tossing out lots and lots of verbal cliches as I maneuver through decision making.
And while I will make this decision for me and only me, I can't help but wonder if this is when I stop sliding through hands like sand and begin to slide like water. See? More cliches.
In honor of cliches, enjoy some song lyrics I've been pondering lately:
"You know I can't let you slide through my hands"
"I want you to notice when I'm not around"
"It's too late tonight to drag the past out into the light"
"It won't take much for me to show my life's not over yet"
"The worst timing I ever knew. I have to go. You already know. It's a long way back home"
Monday, May 22, 2006
Monday, May 15, 2006
Windy City, or the Past Few Days
Friday: Drove up to Chicago. Arrived at hotel on Ohio street, then walked to Water Tower Place for round one of shopping. Ate at the Burrito Beach across the street and instantly fell in love. BB > Q'doba. Took a shower and tried to stay up to watch the rest of Conan in Chicago. Fell asleep during the Obama interview and missed hearing Wilco.
Saturday: Woke up and straighted hair, gathered conference materials and ventured downstairs to meet the shuttle to McCormick Place. Befriended Heather, industrial hygienist with a chemical company in Maryland. We ended up splitting a cab across town when the poor instructions to the shuttle pickup point meandered us over to Michigan Avenue. Took the course on ventilation systems engineering and had one of those new asian salads from McDonalds for lunch. Took a seat next to an older fellow from North Carolina who was quite interested in American Idol. I think I made him mad when I commented on Kelly Pickler's miniscle vocabulary. He told me that Kelly is from a small town and thus hasn't been exposed to as much. I wanted to argue that it's because she's an idiot and not because she's sheltered. Case in point - I grew up in a town of under 4,000 and I toss around big words and can solve differential equations. Small town != idiot. Kelly Pickler = idiot. Took bus back to hotel, went to White Hen across street and bought an overpriced chicken sandwich that was promptly consumed after purchase. It fell between "decent" and "not bad" on the taste scale. Napped for 15 minutes then walked back to Water Tower place, where I obtained a pretzel, a new "city bag" (black messenger bag), and was made over at the Stila countered with lovely products that they didn't have on hand. Violet Convertible Eyecolor has been haunting my dreams since. Perhaps I'll need to find some of this before I leave Chicago.
Sunday: Woke up late and ended up having to take a cab to my session at McCormick. Unfortunately, it turns out my session was actually in the Hyatt adjacent and I ended up having to walk over a mile and a half back in the direction from where I had been in order to find my conference room. Showed up 10 minutes late, covered in sweat, breathless, and slightly irritated. Sat next to fellow that was in my class on Saturday and he greeted me with "You're following me." Later that day, he told me that I was "rude" when I told him about the ventilation course I took in college and that we referred to the teacher as "the hobbit" because of his big, white beard. Dude had it all wrong, I'm not rude and I wasn't following him. What would he know, he's from California!!! Speaking of people from California, when the day was over, I went to Navy Pier for a reception cruise of Lake Michigan and ended up spending the evening with a delightful crew from San Luis Obis. Joe is the safety guy, his brother Mark is adorable with glasses and floppy hair (just like I like 'em) and his wife Stephanie is my homegirl and I want to keep her. After the cruise, I took a cab to the Virgin Megastore down the street from my hotel and picked up a new journal for the road and a copy of Wilco's Kicking at Television...almost got Rebel without a Cause on a whim, but decided not to. Requested a copy of Revenge of the Nerds but they didn't have it. In my tipsiness, I must have looked quite dejected. Dejected enough for the guy to squeeze my shoulder and tell me that he was sure it'd be out en masse with special features in the future. I smiled like a simpleton when he said "speacial features." Stopped at Sayat Nova, the Armenian restuarant across the street on the walk back to the hotel. Visited with the cute fellow behind the bar for about 30 minutes while enjoying a beer and ordering/waiting for food. He signed my new road journal and gave me a card for one of his upcoming shows. Gotta love djs - that means he at least knows a bit about music. I'd say he's got pretty good taste based on the mediterranean mix he was playing in the restaurant. The music gave good atmosphere to the place yet had enough of a good beat to make me want to pay attention to what was playing. Well played.
Monday: Got to sleep in a bit, which is great as I didn't get makeup sleep this weekend. There should be a disclaimer on my profession about the morning hours. Among most of the things that make me want to hang up my safety glasses, it may be the early mornings that push me over the edge. I think I'll give this a bit more time and then go a PhD program. At least in a life of research, I'd get to ask more questions and then innovate a little bit. I'm so tired of just having to manage shit. I'm the kind of person that likes to ask why and then go find out. Talked to the U of I Chicago people Sunday on the cruise - I'd have to go full time in residency in Chicago, doing research in order to get a doctorate from them. I'm still considering this. And Cincinnati's program looks pretty sweet too. It may be cheaper to live in Cincinnati too...
Anyway, woke up and groomed and then went to wait for a shuttle down the street. After 10 minutes of waiting and realizing that with the other stops, I'd never get to my sessions in time, I hailed a cab and headed back to McCormick. Information in the Safety Management Program session was invaluable and the afternoon ergonomics sessions weren't too bad. Used my two hour lunch to eat an overpriced salad and then use the shuttle bus system to go to the Hilton Garden Inn across the street from Nordstrom. During "off peak" hours (10-2), the buses only run to two places, but I had to get away, so... Grabbed my complimentary beverage (Amstel Light) at the Exhibition Reception and then took the bus back to Ohio, where I then proceeded to hoof it over to the Esquire theater for a showing of The Notorious Betty Page. If I remember to, I'll speak about this film in greater detail later. It was a decent bio-pic and though provoking. But for now, I'll leave it with this line from the movie: "Adam and Eve were naked in the garden of Eden. It was only after they sinned that they put on clothes." Go see it if you're fortunate to live in an area that'd show such a film.
Stopped in Urban Outfitters, got a lock and key necklace and hailed a cab back to the hotel, where I ran across the street to round 3 of Burrito Beach (quesedilla today) and spent the evening in my room, underwear clad, watching Grey's Anatomy and balling my eyes out. "Stop looking at me!" And that's why Meredith Grey is my homegirl.
Tomorrow: Taking a bus tour of "The Untouchables" Chicago. All the Capone haunts, Dillinger, other infamous criminal types. I love it how I go do such fun things. Yacht trips on Lake Michigan (it had an open bar too, btw, and damn good white russians), Bus Tours of Gangster Era Chicago, Bettie Page...I bet you wish you were up with me and doing all of this too!
Friday: Drove up to Chicago. Arrived at hotel on Ohio street, then walked to Water Tower Place for round one of shopping. Ate at the Burrito Beach across the street and instantly fell in love. BB > Q'doba. Took a shower and tried to stay up to watch the rest of Conan in Chicago. Fell asleep during the Obama interview and missed hearing Wilco.
Saturday: Woke up and straighted hair, gathered conference materials and ventured downstairs to meet the shuttle to McCormick Place. Befriended Heather, industrial hygienist with a chemical company in Maryland. We ended up splitting a cab across town when the poor instructions to the shuttle pickup point meandered us over to Michigan Avenue. Took the course on ventilation systems engineering and had one of those new asian salads from McDonalds for lunch. Took a seat next to an older fellow from North Carolina who was quite interested in American Idol. I think I made him mad when I commented on Kelly Pickler's miniscle vocabulary. He told me that Kelly is from a small town and thus hasn't been exposed to as much. I wanted to argue that it's because she's an idiot and not because she's sheltered. Case in point - I grew up in a town of under 4,000 and I toss around big words and can solve differential equations. Small town != idiot. Kelly Pickler = idiot. Took bus back to hotel, went to White Hen across street and bought an overpriced chicken sandwich that was promptly consumed after purchase. It fell between "decent" and "not bad" on the taste scale. Napped for 15 minutes then walked back to Water Tower place, where I obtained a pretzel, a new "city bag" (black messenger bag), and was made over at the Stila countered with lovely products that they didn't have on hand. Violet Convertible Eyecolor has been haunting my dreams since. Perhaps I'll need to find some of this before I leave Chicago.
Sunday: Woke up late and ended up having to take a cab to my session at McCormick. Unfortunately, it turns out my session was actually in the Hyatt adjacent and I ended up having to walk over a mile and a half back in the direction from where I had been in order to find my conference room. Showed up 10 minutes late, covered in sweat, breathless, and slightly irritated. Sat next to fellow that was in my class on Saturday and he greeted me with "You're following me." Later that day, he told me that I was "rude" when I told him about the ventilation course I took in college and that we referred to the teacher as "the hobbit" because of his big, white beard. Dude had it all wrong, I'm not rude and I wasn't following him. What would he know, he's from California!!! Speaking of people from California, when the day was over, I went to Navy Pier for a reception cruise of Lake Michigan and ended up spending the evening with a delightful crew from San Luis Obis. Joe is the safety guy, his brother Mark is adorable with glasses and floppy hair (just like I like 'em) and his wife Stephanie is my homegirl and I want to keep her. After the cruise, I took a cab to the Virgin Megastore down the street from my hotel and picked up a new journal for the road and a copy of Wilco's Kicking at Television...almost got Rebel without a Cause on a whim, but decided not to. Requested a copy of Revenge of the Nerds but they didn't have it. In my tipsiness, I must have looked quite dejected. Dejected enough for the guy to squeeze my shoulder and tell me that he was sure it'd be out en masse with special features in the future. I smiled like a simpleton when he said "speacial features." Stopped at Sayat Nova, the Armenian restuarant across the street on the walk back to the hotel. Visited with the cute fellow behind the bar for about 30 minutes while enjoying a beer and ordering/waiting for food. He signed my new road journal and gave me a card for one of his upcoming shows. Gotta love djs - that means he at least knows a bit about music. I'd say he's got pretty good taste based on the mediterranean mix he was playing in the restaurant. The music gave good atmosphere to the place yet had enough of a good beat to make me want to pay attention to what was playing. Well played.
Monday: Got to sleep in a bit, which is great as I didn't get makeup sleep this weekend. There should be a disclaimer on my profession about the morning hours. Among most of the things that make me want to hang up my safety glasses, it may be the early mornings that push me over the edge. I think I'll give this a bit more time and then go a PhD program. At least in a life of research, I'd get to ask more questions and then innovate a little bit. I'm so tired of just having to manage shit. I'm the kind of person that likes to ask why and then go find out. Talked to the U of I Chicago people Sunday on the cruise - I'd have to go full time in residency in Chicago, doing research in order to get a doctorate from them. I'm still considering this. And Cincinnati's program looks pretty sweet too. It may be cheaper to live in Cincinnati too...
Anyway, woke up and groomed and then went to wait for a shuttle down the street. After 10 minutes of waiting and realizing that with the other stops, I'd never get to my sessions in time, I hailed a cab and headed back to McCormick. Information in the Safety Management Program session was invaluable and the afternoon ergonomics sessions weren't too bad. Used my two hour lunch to eat an overpriced salad and then use the shuttle bus system to go to the Hilton Garden Inn across the street from Nordstrom. During "off peak" hours (10-2), the buses only run to two places, but I had to get away, so... Grabbed my complimentary beverage (Amstel Light) at the Exhibition Reception and then took the bus back to Ohio, where I then proceeded to hoof it over to the Esquire theater for a showing of The Notorious Betty Page. If I remember to, I'll speak about this film in greater detail later. It was a decent bio-pic and though provoking. But for now, I'll leave it with this line from the movie: "Adam and Eve were naked in the garden of Eden. It was only after they sinned that they put on clothes." Go see it if you're fortunate to live in an area that'd show such a film.
Stopped in Urban Outfitters, got a lock and key necklace and hailed a cab back to the hotel, where I ran across the street to round 3 of Burrito Beach (quesedilla today) and spent the evening in my room, underwear clad, watching Grey's Anatomy and balling my eyes out. "Stop looking at me!" And that's why Meredith Grey is my homegirl.
Tomorrow: Taking a bus tour of "The Untouchables" Chicago. All the Capone haunts, Dillinger, other infamous criminal types. I love it how I go do such fun things. Yacht trips on Lake Michigan (it had an open bar too, btw, and damn good white russians), Bus Tours of Gangster Era Chicago, Bettie Page...I bet you wish you were up with me and doing all of this too!
Sunday, May 07, 2006
Selling the Lifestyle
I went into a Hollister for the first time this weekend. The vibe of the store is pretty cool, though I'd love to place a Quest (shameless endorsement of product) Dosimeter in one to see what the TWA for noise level exposure is. The thumping music was pretty rad, but I'm pretty sure they're out of compliance for noise exposure.
In addition to high prices and small sizes, I did notice that like Hot Topic and other stores, Hollister carries a wide array of magazines, cds and other accessories to accent the lifestyle promoted by the store. When did stores start selling the lifestyles to go along with the clothing? Fashion is ceasing to be a statement, but rather now a way of life. Does what we wear make us who we are?
And furthermore, if I decide to embrace the Hollister lifestyle and take up surfing, just where will I go to do it? ...in Illinois.
I went into a Hollister for the first time this weekend. The vibe of the store is pretty cool, though I'd love to place a Quest (shameless endorsement of product) Dosimeter in one to see what the TWA for noise level exposure is. The thumping music was pretty rad, but I'm pretty sure they're out of compliance for noise exposure.
In addition to high prices and small sizes, I did notice that like Hot Topic and other stores, Hollister carries a wide array of magazines, cds and other accessories to accent the lifestyle promoted by the store. When did stores start selling the lifestyles to go along with the clothing? Fashion is ceasing to be a statement, but rather now a way of life. Does what we wear make us who we are?
And furthermore, if I decide to embrace the Hollister lifestyle and take up surfing, just where will I go to do it? ...in Illinois.
AWOL
I haven't stepped foot in my apartment since Friday morning when I left for work.
While walking out of work on Friday, I decided to call my parents because well, let's face it - talking to parents make everything better. We decided to meet in Lincoln for dinner, the second night in a row - what a treat. A huge plate of green beans and biscuits at CrackerBarrell and a spin around town later and I decided to eschew typical Cinco de Mayo festivities for an impromptu trip to Springfield. So I made a weekend of it and didn't even pack a bag.
Yesterday morning I was wandering around Dick's Sporting Goods getting some balls and other assorted items so I could play some impromtu golf on my impromtu trip. Of course I had my clubs with me - they're a permanent fixture in my car just in case I get the urge to play. But yeah, I had no clothes, so I went digging through the closet and ended up wearing a bubble gum pink shirt and a pair of mom-jeans. I adore mom jeans because they're so comfortable and for that way they give even the FUPA-less a FUPA. And did I mention the white sunglasses I was sporting. If Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen's street urchin sunglasses mated with Kanye West's bling sunglasses, this pair would be the unholy offspring.
Spent the weekend just hanging out - visiting with parents, watching tv and reading magazines, playing golf. I applied sunscreen everywhere except my left earlobe, which is now bright red. I look perpetually embarassed. Hit 3 over par on the 4th hole today though. And had as much fun driving the golf cart around as I did actually playing.
Returned to Peoria around 9 this evening, just in time for Grey's Anatomy. Meredith's "you broke it" speech to McDreamy had resonance. It was eloquent and truthful and a lot better than anything I muster. I feel very Meredith Grey some days. But (as I tell myself every Sunday night) it's all going to change...someday.
Out of work for 1.5 days this week - surgery on Tuesday. I'm excited though. I will absolutely, 100% be free of any form (pre-post-etc) of cancer. Don't get me wrong - I'm not happy about being poked and prodded on, but I'm jazzed about a healthy body.
I haven't stepped foot in my apartment since Friday morning when I left for work.
While walking out of work on Friday, I decided to call my parents because well, let's face it - talking to parents make everything better. We decided to meet in Lincoln for dinner, the second night in a row - what a treat. A huge plate of green beans and biscuits at CrackerBarrell and a spin around town later and I decided to eschew typical Cinco de Mayo festivities for an impromptu trip to Springfield. So I made a weekend of it and didn't even pack a bag.
Yesterday morning I was wandering around Dick's Sporting Goods getting some balls and other assorted items so I could play some impromtu golf on my impromtu trip. Of course I had my clubs with me - they're a permanent fixture in my car just in case I get the urge to play. But yeah, I had no clothes, so I went digging through the closet and ended up wearing a bubble gum pink shirt and a pair of mom-jeans. I adore mom jeans because they're so comfortable and for that way they give even the FUPA-less a FUPA. And did I mention the white sunglasses I was sporting. If Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen's street urchin sunglasses mated with Kanye West's bling sunglasses, this pair would be the unholy offspring.
Spent the weekend just hanging out - visiting with parents, watching tv and reading magazines, playing golf. I applied sunscreen everywhere except my left earlobe, which is now bright red. I look perpetually embarassed. Hit 3 over par on the 4th hole today though. And had as much fun driving the golf cart around as I did actually playing.
Returned to Peoria around 9 this evening, just in time for Grey's Anatomy. Meredith's "you broke it" speech to McDreamy had resonance. It was eloquent and truthful and a lot better than anything I muster. I feel very Meredith Grey some days. But (as I tell myself every Sunday night) it's all going to change...someday.
Out of work for 1.5 days this week - surgery on Tuesday. I'm excited though. I will absolutely, 100% be free of any form (pre-post-etc) of cancer. Don't get me wrong - I'm not happy about being poked and prodded on, but I'm jazzed about a healthy body.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Observations
1. Pulsing toothbrushes will scramble your brains while cleaning your teeth. They're almost not worth it.
2. People with a different ring tone for every person should be shot. Esp when one of those ringtones is "Gold Digger."
3. BYOB Restaurants are where it's at
4. I need a stronger alarm clock
5. Sharpening eye pencils is deceptively difficult
The 31 Days of Awesome Counter
Day 1: New golf clubs; sushi; new episode of "How I Met Your Mother"
Day 2: Day one of Transportation of Hazardous Goods training; trying out new clubs
Day 3: Gyro at the lunch cart on Adams Street; new golf shoes
Day 4: Dinner with Parents; snitzel strips, salad, 2x baked potato, tea. OMMMMMGGGG!
1. Pulsing toothbrushes will scramble your brains while cleaning your teeth. They're almost not worth it.
2. People with a different ring tone for every person should be shot. Esp when one of those ringtones is "Gold Digger."
3. BYOB Restaurants are where it's at
4. I need a stronger alarm clock
5. Sharpening eye pencils is deceptively difficult
The 31 Days of Awesome Counter
Day 1: New golf clubs; sushi; new episode of "How I Met Your Mother"
Day 2: Day one of Transportation of Hazardous Goods training; trying out new clubs
Day 3: Gyro at the lunch cart on Adams Street; new golf shoes
Day 4: Dinner with Parents; snitzel strips, salad, 2x baked potato, tea. OMMMMMGGGG!
Monday, May 01, 2006
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
Da Bomb
By sheer chance, I happened upon the Peoria Emergency Response Expo this evening. The highlight of this was getting to check out the bomb squad robot and spend some time asking a bunch of questions about the bomb squad program, uses for the robot, the cost of such a rig ($200,000 including training and spare parts), and the average number of times the bomb squad is dispatched each year (about 30 - not well publicised). This was by far the coolest thing I did today. And now, when we have a jar of picric acid that's become dried out and unstable, I can call up the Peoria PD and ask for an officer by name. "Hi, remember me? The one with 30 questions? About that robot...we're gonna need it."
By sheer chance, I happened upon the Peoria Emergency Response Expo this evening. The highlight of this was getting to check out the bomb squad robot and spend some time asking a bunch of questions about the bomb squad program, uses for the robot, the cost of such a rig ($200,000 including training and spare parts), and the average number of times the bomb squad is dispatched each year (about 30 - not well publicised). This was by far the coolest thing I did today. And now, when we have a jar of picric acid that's become dried out and unstable, I can call up the Peoria PD and ask for an officer by name. "Hi, remember me? The one with 30 questions? About that robot...we're gonna need it."
Back from Life
I had been typing this long and glorious post about my time in Kentucky and my newfound love of Coheed and Cambria and the Mars Volta. I mentioned my joy in being able to visit with sisters at the loveliest of formals and how buying that dress may have been the best thing I've done for myself all year. There was talk about feeling more alive than ever when feeling cool night area across my naked back and arms and wet sand between my toes. I do believe I spent a sizeable amount of time proclaiming my love for my friends. There was at least a paragraph on the sorrowful beauty that is "The Widow" by the Mars Volta and how this song resonates because it captures that feeling of being haunted.
But all of that was wiped when Firefox was closed.
I had been typing this long and glorious post about my time in Kentucky and my newfound love of Coheed and Cambria and the Mars Volta. I mentioned my joy in being able to visit with sisters at the loveliest of formals and how buying that dress may have been the best thing I've done for myself all year. There was talk about feeling more alive than ever when feeling cool night area across my naked back and arms and wet sand between my toes. I do believe I spent a sizeable amount of time proclaiming my love for my friends. There was at least a paragraph on the sorrowful beauty that is "The Widow" by the Mars Volta and how this song resonates because it captures that feeling of being haunted.
But all of that was wiped when Firefox was closed.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Top 5 Questions of the Day
1. What exactly does it mean when someone has listed "Random Play" in the Looking For: section on a facebook profile?
2. How kind I stop slicing when I drive a golf ball?
3. Why are people concerned with me understanding the source of their scarcity? And why am I up past midnight overanalyzing this? (That doesn't count as a fourth question, btw)
4. What kind of rod and reel should I get and where in my house shall I store it?
5. In which grocery store can I obtain pretzel bread so that I can make my own pretzel sandwiches at home? (Bonus question - what shall I pack for tomorrow's lunch?)
1. What exactly does it mean when someone has listed "Random Play" in the Looking For: section on a facebook profile?
2. How kind I stop slicing when I drive a golf ball?
3. Why are people concerned with me understanding the source of their scarcity? And why am I up past midnight overanalyzing this? (That doesn't count as a fourth question, btw)
4. What kind of rod and reel should I get and where in my house shall I store it?
5. In which grocery store can I obtain pretzel bread so that I can make my own pretzel sandwiches at home? (Bonus question - what shall I pack for tomorrow's lunch?)
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Pretty Much a Perfect Tuesday Evening
I left work around 5 this evening and hurried home to retrieve the UPS tag from the door so that I could arrange to run down to East Peoria and pick up my dress for formal. The dress...it's gorgeous. From there it was off to the indoor mall to pick up some "royal jelly" cream from Bath and Bodyworks. I'm a sucker for all things honey and have been infatuated with the new Savannah Beeswax line. After some mall crawling, I stopped by DiDough's Twisted Pretzels where I "rushed" the girls working there and got to try every flavor of slushy while waiting on the most awesome sammich ever: turkey and cheddar cheese between two pieces of pretzel bread garnished with lettuce, tomato, and "beer mustard." So, so good. Top it off with an ice cold hand shaken lemonade and a rerun of America's Next Top Model and a new Veronica Mars and that's what I call a great Tuesday.
I left work around 5 this evening and hurried home to retrieve the UPS tag from the door so that I could arrange to run down to East Peoria and pick up my dress for formal. The dress...it's gorgeous. From there it was off to the indoor mall to pick up some "royal jelly" cream from Bath and Bodyworks. I'm a sucker for all things honey and have been infatuated with the new Savannah Beeswax line. After some mall crawling, I stopped by DiDough's Twisted Pretzels where I "rushed" the girls working there and got to try every flavor of slushy while waiting on the most awesome sammich ever: turkey and cheddar cheese between two pieces of pretzel bread garnished with lettuce, tomato, and "beer mustard." So, so good. Top it off with an ice cold hand shaken lemonade and a rerun of America's Next Top Model and a new Veronica Mars and that's what I call a great Tuesday.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
That Wasn't So Bad, Was It
I've survived yet another weekend in downstate tiny.lake.town. I didn't run into anyone I used to know. However, I did make an appearance in one of the local newspapers. If you take a picture of yourself with a copy of the Breese Journal in some exotic location, they'll put it in the paper. It would be perversely funny to take pictures of myself with this small town rag and just periodically send them in. Look at me! I ventured outside of Clinton County and lived to tell about it? Where's my cookie? Where's Waldo? Waldo's at the Sear Tower...
On Friday, I went to the AB Brewery with my parents to take the tour. All these years living around St. Louis and never going to the brewery. I can't believe it took so long because the brewery tour was awesome. It has everything I love: pressure vessels, fermentation, generous complimentary beer samples and pretzel packets. Unfortunately, on my 2nd Budweiser Select, I became that person when the cup slid through my hands and onto the carpet. People are becoming less surprised when I drop stuff and make a scene. I can't even make it through 8 oz of beer before I'm making a scene these days. Learning all about the brewery process gave me a greater appreciation for beer and has piqued my interest in wanting to try out a little home brewing. I feel like I've just made a pilgrimage to someplace holy.
After touring the brewery, we went to the Science Center to check out the Titanic exhibit. Impeccible timing, it was, as we were there on the 95th anniversary of the ship striking the iceberg. It was odd to lay eyes on items that had been at the bottom of the ocean for nearly a century. The exhibit had corridors that were designed to replicate passageways and rooms from the ship as well as a put visitors in the middle of the grand staircase. After seeing this, not only do I have a greater appreciation to the magnitude and impact of the tragedy, but I can also better appreciate the attention to detail that went into the making of the 1997 Titanic movie. Upon entering the exhibit, we received boarding passes to the ship that had names and brief stories about the people on the ship. At the conclusion, we could reference the names on our boarding passes to the list of those lost and saved at sea. The name on my card was a 2nd class survivor. After I saw this, I took a seat on a bench and looked up and saw a quote on the exit wall that read "We are all passengers on the Titanic." An odd sense of relief washed over me.
I've survived yet another weekend in downstate tiny.lake.town. I didn't run into anyone I used to know. However, I did make an appearance in one of the local newspapers. If you take a picture of yourself with a copy of the Breese Journal in some exotic location, they'll put it in the paper. It would be perversely funny to take pictures of myself with this small town rag and just periodically send them in. Look at me! I ventured outside of Clinton County and lived to tell about it? Where's my cookie? Where's Waldo? Waldo's at the Sear Tower...
On Friday, I went to the AB Brewery with my parents to take the tour. All these years living around St. Louis and never going to the brewery. I can't believe it took so long because the brewery tour was awesome. It has everything I love: pressure vessels, fermentation, generous complimentary beer samples and pretzel packets. Unfortunately, on my 2nd Budweiser Select, I became that person when the cup slid through my hands and onto the carpet. People are becoming less surprised when I drop stuff and make a scene. I can't even make it through 8 oz of beer before I'm making a scene these days. Learning all about the brewery process gave me a greater appreciation for beer and has piqued my interest in wanting to try out a little home brewing. I feel like I've just made a pilgrimage to someplace holy.
After touring the brewery, we went to the Science Center to check out the Titanic exhibit. Impeccible timing, it was, as we were there on the 95th anniversary of the ship striking the iceberg. It was odd to lay eyes on items that had been at the bottom of the ocean for nearly a century. The exhibit had corridors that were designed to replicate passageways and rooms from the ship as well as a put visitors in the middle of the grand staircase. After seeing this, not only do I have a greater appreciation to the magnitude and impact of the tragedy, but I can also better appreciate the attention to detail that went into the making of the 1997 Titanic movie. Upon entering the exhibit, we received boarding passes to the ship that had names and brief stories about the people on the ship. At the conclusion, we could reference the names on our boarding passes to the list of those lost and saved at sea. The name on my card was a 2nd class survivor. After I saw this, I took a seat on a bench and looked up and saw a quote on the exit wall that read "We are all passengers on the Titanic." An odd sense of relief washed over me.
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
Bark < Bite
On the way home from work this evening, I called my Dad to visit for a little while as my Dad is quite awesome and I'll just call him up to say hello. He told me that he couldn't talk long because he was at the emergency room.
(it went down sort of like this...)
"What happened?!?"
"I was bitten and I'm at the emergency room." (repeat from the statement that started it all)
"Who bit you?"
"Cliff's dog."
"Big dog?"
"Cliff's dog."
"What kind of dog?"
"...Pomeranian maltese mix. It's 12 years old. Cliff told me that I could stick my hand out so it could sniff me and the dog latched on to my hand."
"Did it get your left hand?" (he had surgery on his right hand a few months back)
"Yes."
"At least it didn't get the right hand. Now you have two bum hands?"
"I'm going to have to go in a minute. Paperwork."
He called back a few hours later and told me that the dog went after Cliff too. They both had their wounds cleaned out with alcohol, etc and were given tetanus shots. And then they went to Spaghetti Night at Angelos. Dad just chalks it up to another life experience. I chalk it up to yappy dogs being evil.
On the way home from work this evening, I called my Dad to visit for a little while as my Dad is quite awesome and I'll just call him up to say hello. He told me that he couldn't talk long because he was at the emergency room.
(it went down sort of like this...)
"What happened?!?"
"I was bitten and I'm at the emergency room." (repeat from the statement that started it all)
"Who bit you?"
"Cliff's dog."
"Big dog?"
"Cliff's dog."
"What kind of dog?"
"...Pomeranian maltese mix. It's 12 years old. Cliff told me that I could stick my hand out so it could sniff me and the dog latched on to my hand."
"Did it get your left hand?" (he had surgery on his right hand a few months back)
"Yes."
"At least it didn't get the right hand. Now you have two bum hands?"
"I'm going to have to go in a minute. Paperwork."
He called back a few hours later and told me that the dog went after Cliff too. They both had their wounds cleaned out with alcohol, etc and were given tetanus shots. And then they went to Spaghetti Night at Angelos. Dad just chalks it up to another life experience. I chalk it up to yappy dogs being evil.
Plugged In
Sometime in the months that passed since the night I rushed my ailing laptop to Best Buy for repair, the laptop was recalled and I grew as a person by virtue of simply not having a computer so accessible.
I was without home computer from February 20 - April 11. In that time, I took up a new hobby, started feeling better about life with each passing day, and lost 6 lbs. I was forced to be more creative with passing time and learned to just stop waiting for life. I also gained a greater appreciation for buying an unlimited text messaging package as in that computer-less time, I've sent and received roughly 300 text messages. So now that the computer is back and the weather is warmer and it's lighter longer and all of this wonderful stuff, how am I spending my free time? Well, I'm blogging right now and earlier I was putting information thought to be lost back on my new computer (which is like my old one, but faster and cooler - it has a tv tuner and fingerprint data protection). Tomorrow I'm driving down to St. Louis for Easter. If it weren't for my folks wanting to see my replacement rig, I'd leave it up here as I'm growing accustomed to a life without zombification via computer screen.
Here is the portion of this entry where I could be complaining about how long it took to get a replacement computer, but instead, I'll say this about my experience at Best Buy yesterday afternoon: I tried to have eye sex with a floppy haired, bespectacled boy wearing a hoodie and a tshirt with some witty saying on it and then I contemplated getting some Stereophonics cds. After that, I made arrangements to pick up my laptop after the data transfer had been completed and then went good will store hunting and grabbed a bite to eat before returning a few hours later to triumphantly claim my new sweet computer. And that was pretty much it.
Sometime in the months that passed since the night I rushed my ailing laptop to Best Buy for repair, the laptop was recalled and I grew as a person by virtue of simply not having a computer so accessible.
I was without home computer from February 20 - April 11. In that time, I took up a new hobby, started feeling better about life with each passing day, and lost 6 lbs. I was forced to be more creative with passing time and learned to just stop waiting for life. I also gained a greater appreciation for buying an unlimited text messaging package as in that computer-less time, I've sent and received roughly 300 text messages. So now that the computer is back and the weather is warmer and it's lighter longer and all of this wonderful stuff, how am I spending my free time? Well, I'm blogging right now and earlier I was putting information thought to be lost back on my new computer (which is like my old one, but faster and cooler - it has a tv tuner and fingerprint data protection). Tomorrow I'm driving down to St. Louis for Easter. If it weren't for my folks wanting to see my replacement rig, I'd leave it up here as I'm growing accustomed to a life without zombification via computer screen.
Here is the portion of this entry where I could be complaining about how long it took to get a replacement computer, but instead, I'll say this about my experience at Best Buy yesterday afternoon: I tried to have eye sex with a floppy haired, bespectacled boy wearing a hoodie and a tshirt with some witty saying on it and then I contemplated getting some Stereophonics cds. After that, I made arrangements to pick up my laptop after the data transfer had been completed and then went good will store hunting and grabbed a bite to eat before returning a few hours later to triumphantly claim my new sweet computer. And that was pretty much it.
Sunday, April 09, 2006
All Hail the Open Road
This weekend I road tripped down to see the folks and participate in Trivia Night to raise money for the school. Our table won 3rd place, and we gave the prize money back to the school. The people that won 2nd and 1st, however, did not (boo!). Call me righteous, but I think that if you participate in a fundraising event and win, you should give the money back to the cause. Of course, the money went toward bettering my mother's school so you can see my bias on this issue, but I think regardless, I'd still feel the same.
Although it's only about a 90 mile drive, a lot can happen on the open road. This evening, I actually got to experience a "what if" situation I had once spent some time pondering...
So I'm driving up I-55 and I see something drop in front of the radio. I turned my head to get a better visual confirmation - something better than a glance out of the corner of my eye. And there it was... a brown spider! Oh no of nos, what do I do. It was still on the console, crawling over my badge, coins, and assortment of lip glosses (Cargo Kalamazoo, Nars Orgasm, American Beauty Watermelon Crush). I break out in a cold sweat, wondering what I do when it jumps over on me and brandishes its gigantor fangs. Traffic was a bit dense and quick moving, so I pushed the spider out of my mind for a few minutes as to get away from the lumber truck in front of me. And then I couldn't see the spider anymore. So I spent the rest of the trip back to Peoria periodically slapping myself in attempt to get the imaginary spider. A little while later, after arriving back at my abode, I saw a spider (same one? I don't know, they all look alike) and killed it. There - piece of mind.
This afternoon I also became reaquainted with the Reverend Horton Heat. Digging through the console, I came across my copy of Holy Roller, the 1999 compilation of songs on both record labels the band's been on. My favorite tracks include "Wiggle Stick," "Where the Hell Did You Go With My Toothbrush?," "One Time for Me," and a nifty cover of "Folsom Prison Blues." If you like good, dirty rock and roll, check out this cd. But listen to it with the car on cruise control, this is drive-fast-music.
This weekend I road tripped down to see the folks and participate in Trivia Night to raise money for the school. Our table won 3rd place, and we gave the prize money back to the school. The people that won 2nd and 1st, however, did not (boo!). Call me righteous, but I think that if you participate in a fundraising event and win, you should give the money back to the cause. Of course, the money went toward bettering my mother's school so you can see my bias on this issue, but I think regardless, I'd still feel the same.
Although it's only about a 90 mile drive, a lot can happen on the open road. This evening, I actually got to experience a "what if" situation I had once spent some time pondering...
So I'm driving up I-55 and I see something drop in front of the radio. I turned my head to get a better visual confirmation - something better than a glance out of the corner of my eye. And there it was... a brown spider! Oh no of nos, what do I do. It was still on the console, crawling over my badge, coins, and assortment of lip glosses (Cargo Kalamazoo, Nars Orgasm, American Beauty Watermelon Crush). I break out in a cold sweat, wondering what I do when it jumps over on me and brandishes its gigantor fangs. Traffic was a bit dense and quick moving, so I pushed the spider out of my mind for a few minutes as to get away from the lumber truck in front of me. And then I couldn't see the spider anymore. So I spent the rest of the trip back to Peoria periodically slapping myself in attempt to get the imaginary spider. A little while later, after arriving back at my abode, I saw a spider (same one? I don't know, they all look alike) and killed it. There - piece of mind.
This afternoon I also became reaquainted with the Reverend Horton Heat. Digging through the console, I came across my copy of Holy Roller, the 1999 compilation of songs on both record labels the band's been on. My favorite tracks include "Wiggle Stick," "Where the Hell Did You Go With My Toothbrush?," "One Time for Me," and a nifty cover of "Folsom Prison Blues." If you like good, dirty rock and roll, check out this cd. But listen to it with the car on cruise control, this is drive-fast-music.
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Changing Tastes
In the movie "Runaway Bride," there is this running question of how Julia Robert's character likes her eggs...and the answer is always that she likes them the same way of the man she's engaged to. Ultimately it's revealed that the reason for this is because she doesn't really know who is she or what she's like. The way one likes (or dislikes) their eggs must be indicative of one's sense of self?
I think this is true for beers. A person has their beer. But then they meet someone else and start drinking the same beer of the SO. It could be constant drinking of this beer, social drinking of this beer. It's justified, saying things like "well, I've always liked this, but had forgotten about it," and "it was cheap beer on special." Would said beer even have been given the time of day if it hadn't been for the influence of the other person?
I will admit to having fallen victim to this form of mimicking...choking down several watery bottles of Coors Light. However, I just couldn't do it. It's not who I am. Or is it that I'm just resistant to being changed by relationships? But this can't be true as every relationship changes us. Regardless of it ending happily ever after or going down in a flaming spiral, once we decide to love someone, date someone, exist in someone's sphere of influence, we're forever changed. (This goes along with my asertment that love is indeed a true chemical reaction.) Our world is opened up to new and exciting beers. We broaden our horizons. We strengthen our resolve to only drink real beer.
So if all of the aforementioned is an indication of who we are, then analyze this: I like Budweiser. Not Bud Light. Budweiser. And I love a good Guiness. In a pint glass. And my eggs, nothing less than over easy.
In the movie "Runaway Bride," there is this running question of how Julia Robert's character likes her eggs...and the answer is always that she likes them the same way of the man she's engaged to. Ultimately it's revealed that the reason for this is because she doesn't really know who is she or what she's like. The way one likes (or dislikes) their eggs must be indicative of one's sense of self?
I think this is true for beers. A person has their beer. But then they meet someone else and start drinking the same beer of the SO. It could be constant drinking of this beer, social drinking of this beer. It's justified, saying things like "well, I've always liked this, but had forgotten about it," and "it was cheap beer on special." Would said beer even have been given the time of day if it hadn't been for the influence of the other person?
I will admit to having fallen victim to this form of mimicking...choking down several watery bottles of Coors Light. However, I just couldn't do it. It's not who I am. Or is it that I'm just resistant to being changed by relationships? But this can't be true as every relationship changes us. Regardless of it ending happily ever after or going down in a flaming spiral, once we decide to love someone, date someone, exist in someone's sphere of influence, we're forever changed. (This goes along with my asertment that love is indeed a true chemical reaction.) Our world is opened up to new and exciting beers. We broaden our horizons. We strengthen our resolve to only drink real beer.
So if all of the aforementioned is an indication of who we are, then analyze this: I like Budweiser. Not Bud Light. Budweiser. And I love a good Guiness. In a pint glass. And my eggs, nothing less than over easy.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Wide-Eyed is All I Can Do
I caught a glimpse of myself in a plateglass window and realized that when I'm "into" someone, all I can really do is look at them all wide-eyed. It's a combination of the facial expressions I do when shopping at Sephora, ordering cheesecake, buying shoes, looking at tools at Sears, and anticipating really good news...and have just been given a keg of really good beer.
There are all of these words in the English language that are used to describe a person trolling for booty. Lusty. Randy. Horny. Aroused. But why is it so hard to sum up in a single word what a person is feeling when they've got it for someone. I'm talking the kind of got it when someone realizes that their entire existence would be made by being able to walk up to him and put the head under his chin. The kind when talking to him makes you realize that all the tears shed over the unworthy were pointless because there are much better men out there. It's the kind of feeling when you really want to get to know a person and let everything else that comes along with it just fall into place.
But my big issue is now knowing what to do other than being wide-eyed. It's so easy to aggressively seek things - promotions, positions of power, etc, but how does one aggressively seek matters of the heart? The biggest problem with free will is that you can't *make* others want to reciprocate feeling. I'm scared of coming on too strong but at the same time I know that I have to put myself out there and send signals...it's a fine line to walk. The more I think about it, this person has pretty much everything I think is awesome in another human being. And if it works, that's awesome because I'm pretty sure this boy would be one of the greats. And we all know how I adore the greats. But until I figure out just what to do, I'll continue to look at him like he's a rack of Craftsmen tools at Sears.*
*Though on direction of Allison, my very own personal Hitch, I'm to be girlie around this boy, so I'll look at him like a display of Nars lipstick at Sephora.
I caught a glimpse of myself in a plateglass window and realized that when I'm "into" someone, all I can really do is look at them all wide-eyed. It's a combination of the facial expressions I do when shopping at Sephora, ordering cheesecake, buying shoes, looking at tools at Sears, and anticipating really good news...and have just been given a keg of really good beer.
There are all of these words in the English language that are used to describe a person trolling for booty. Lusty. Randy. Horny. Aroused. But why is it so hard to sum up in a single word what a person is feeling when they've got it for someone. I'm talking the kind of got it when someone realizes that their entire existence would be made by being able to walk up to him and put the head under his chin. The kind when talking to him makes you realize that all the tears shed over the unworthy were pointless because there are much better men out there. It's the kind of feeling when you really want to get to know a person and let everything else that comes along with it just fall into place.
But my big issue is now knowing what to do other than being wide-eyed. It's so easy to aggressively seek things - promotions, positions of power, etc, but how does one aggressively seek matters of the heart? The biggest problem with free will is that you can't *make* others want to reciprocate feeling. I'm scared of coming on too strong but at the same time I know that I have to put myself out there and send signals...it's a fine line to walk. The more I think about it, this person has pretty much everything I think is awesome in another human being. And if it works, that's awesome because I'm pretty sure this boy would be one of the greats. And we all know how I adore the greats. But until I figure out just what to do, I'll continue to look at him like he's a rack of Craftsmen tools at Sears.*
*Though on direction of Allison, my very own personal Hitch, I'm to be girlie around this boy, so I'll look at him like a display of Nars lipstick at Sephora.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Wicked Wednesday
This morning, I woke up to an unusually bright bedroom and feeling very odd about an evening of vivid and lurid dreams just experienced. I won't go into too much detail about it, but all experienced in dreamland was an amalgum of retail, bear fights, and other sensations. Upon first waking, I was thinking of the ocean but soon realized that the sound of running water was actually my private bath toilet running wild. Call Father Marin - we need an exorcism.
Actually, part of the flushing mechanism is going out and water is being pulled down because there's not a good seal. One of these days, I'll stop trying to fix it myself and call the maintenance person. Until then, I try to make it stop and have actually shouted at the toilet to "shut up!" This is even more futile and ridiculous than that time a frog got into my apartment and I opened the front door and shouted at it to "get out of my house!" while pointing at the door. The frog just looked at me like "yo, I'm a frog, this is funny."
Two more days of work...and this afternoon, I made five different slide shows. I'm almost as tired of powerpoint as I am of hearing myself speak. Sometimes I want to splice in questionable pictures and sayings (Only safety glasses can protect you from a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick to the face!) for the slideshows that other people will be using but don't actually look at before presenting. However, I never get tired of coloring my opinon of the science of beating the odds with offbeat and grim anecdotes. Or trading stories about people getting shot in the eyes with lasers. Or talking about killing critters with gardening tools, smoking out groundhogs...
I had an engineer approach me and tell me that he had a safety issue because there was a mouse in the console room.
"There's a mouse in the console room."
"Well did you kill it?"
"No."
"Did you catch it?"
"..."
"You want me to go down there and get it for you? Just give me a minute and I'll be down there with a broom."
"Um...can I put in a Safety Observation."
"Just put in a Safety Work Order. Call WGI helpdesk and tell them you need someone to get rid of a mouse for you."
"What if it chews through my wires?"
"That's why you call someone to get rid of it for you."
I'll admit - it would have been funny to have gone after a mouse with a broom. It would be akin to that time with the consulting firm when we had wasps in the financial office and I had to go in after them with a can of bug spray and a fly swatter. And after the wasps had been terminated, I had to climb under a desk to retrieve the bodies because the boss wouldn't be satisfied until she saw the dead wasp bodies.
After work, I went home with every intention of working out, but cereal and America's Next Top Model got the best of me. Veronica Mars isn't too bad of a show either. Kristen Bell is pretty hot too, but I read in Maxim that she has a "wonky" eye and she's also a Detroit Red Wings fan...not too sure we can work with that. Did some mild tidying to the house and pen and ink drawing before taking out the trash and breathing in the soy-corn-fermentation scented air (it smells like beer. a lot) and sitting in my car. I just sat out in the parking lot in my car for a good five minutes, enjoying the new car smell still retained and the cold night air. It's been months since I've had such an enjoyable time just chilling out in a car. No radio, no company, no nothing. Just me and the cool night air. And then one of the best songs ever, Sophie B. Hawkin's "Damn, Wish I was Your Lover" as I pulled into the garage. Bills for the mail in the front passenger seat, new bottle of water ready for tomorrow's commute, an old favorite mix cd queued up in the dash...I think I'm ready to face one more day.
This morning, I woke up to an unusually bright bedroom and feeling very odd about an evening of vivid and lurid dreams just experienced. I won't go into too much detail about it, but all experienced in dreamland was an amalgum of retail, bear fights, and other sensations. Upon first waking, I was thinking of the ocean but soon realized that the sound of running water was actually my private bath toilet running wild. Call Father Marin - we need an exorcism.
Actually, part of the flushing mechanism is going out and water is being pulled down because there's not a good seal. One of these days, I'll stop trying to fix it myself and call the maintenance person. Until then, I try to make it stop and have actually shouted at the toilet to "shut up!" This is even more futile and ridiculous than that time a frog got into my apartment and I opened the front door and shouted at it to "get out of my house!" while pointing at the door. The frog just looked at me like "yo, I'm a frog, this is funny."
Two more days of work...and this afternoon, I made five different slide shows. I'm almost as tired of powerpoint as I am of hearing myself speak. Sometimes I want to splice in questionable pictures and sayings (Only safety glasses can protect you from a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick to the face!) for the slideshows that other people will be using but don't actually look at before presenting. However, I never get tired of coloring my opinon of the science of beating the odds with offbeat and grim anecdotes. Or trading stories about people getting shot in the eyes with lasers. Or talking about killing critters with gardening tools, smoking out groundhogs...
I had an engineer approach me and tell me that he had a safety issue because there was a mouse in the console room.
"There's a mouse in the console room."
"Well did you kill it?"
"No."
"Did you catch it?"
"..."
"You want me to go down there and get it for you? Just give me a minute and I'll be down there with a broom."
"Um...can I put in a Safety Observation."
"Just put in a Safety Work Order. Call WGI helpdesk and tell them you need someone to get rid of a mouse for you."
"What if it chews through my wires?"
"That's why you call someone to get rid of it for you."
I'll admit - it would have been funny to have gone after a mouse with a broom. It would be akin to that time with the consulting firm when we had wasps in the financial office and I had to go in after them with a can of bug spray and a fly swatter. And after the wasps had been terminated, I had to climb under a desk to retrieve the bodies because the boss wouldn't be satisfied until she saw the dead wasp bodies.
After work, I went home with every intention of working out, but cereal and America's Next Top Model got the best of me. Veronica Mars isn't too bad of a show either. Kristen Bell is pretty hot too, but I read in Maxim that she has a "wonky" eye and she's also a Detroit Red Wings fan...not too sure we can work with that. Did some mild tidying to the house and pen and ink drawing before taking out the trash and breathing in the soy-corn-fermentation scented air (it smells like beer. a lot) and sitting in my car. I just sat out in the parking lot in my car for a good five minutes, enjoying the new car smell still retained and the cold night air. It's been months since I've had such an enjoyable time just chilling out in a car. No radio, no company, no nothing. Just me and the cool night air. And then one of the best songs ever, Sophie B. Hawkin's "Damn, Wish I was Your Lover" as I pulled into the garage. Bills for the mail in the front passenger seat, new bottle of water ready for tomorrow's commute, an old favorite mix cd queued up in the dash...I think I'm ready to face one more day.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Anger is Easy
Ever notice how people want to act pissed off and throw stuff around after they've hit their hand with a hammer?
After much deliberation, I've decided that it's easier to feel anger than any other emotion. Most anger is irrational and thoughtless. It's more socially acceptable to be angry. When's the last time there's been a great movie about people just sitting around being sad? It's all about the anger and the resulting kill crazy rampage that follows. There are no good sorrow movies, but there are several really, really good ones about anger and revenge.
Lately I've tried to be angry and go with it. It's easier than wallowing in the overwhelming sense of defeat that swallows me about three times a day. Today, I was told that I look "down and out." Well, honestly? I am. Today is actually the first day in one month and six days that I've not cried at least once. Today? Not a single tear. And it's because I've committed to just being angry.
I used to think about what I would do when it eventually happened and could never really come up with a good plan as the whole prospect was just so freakin' inconceivable. It would have been easier to conceptualize a massive blast of solar radiation from the sun frying the earth than it was to know what life would be like after. So...I guess maybe the denial stage of the stages of loss/grief/etc was kicking in on that one. That must mean that then came the depression...and the grief over my inability...to just be. And the cursing...curse me and my complicated ways. Me with my multisyllabic, odd name that can't be found on "customized" toothbrushes and pens. Me with my degree in the physical sciences, big boobs, and authoritative position in this "upwardly mobile" life I'm trying to build for myself. Me with my wanderlust, graceful clumsiness, and curious ways. Me with my rogue reproductive system. Me. But why be angry with myself when it's so much easier to be angry with other people. Granted, logic says that anger should be directed at the situation, for if there's any deserving party, it's the situation. But anger defies logic, you see, so fingers certainly cannot be pointed at the deserving party.
I want to be angry. I really, really do. But the oddest thing happened - I committed myself to anger but when faced with the entity at which I want to direct my rage, I can't be angry. I'm enjoying myself too much to be mad. I never saw this coming...unexpected outcomes. Then again, I never thought I'd feel progressively worse about something with each passing day - wtf with that? But yeah, I want to roar and rage and rampage, but I fear I just don't have it in me. And though it's in my nature to want to lash out (similar to the manner an injured animal does) when hurt, I get distracted and laugh and have fun. I genuinely enjoy myself. Perhaps deep down I know that anger will get me nowhere. Deep down I know that sometimes shit just happens. The philosophy of there being no good and no bad, just what's there and it's all in what we make of a situation...appreciating the cards we've been dealt. Deep down I know that I don't really have a good reason to feel so bad...there are the greats and then there are the best of what's there. And then there are situations where being the best of what's there is like being the smartest kid with down's syndrome. What about that is worth mourning over? At least no one's dead.
...except for the Monday Night Girl. I think she's lost and gone forever, but where's the loss in that?
Ever notice how people want to act pissed off and throw stuff around after they've hit their hand with a hammer?
After much deliberation, I've decided that it's easier to feel anger than any other emotion. Most anger is irrational and thoughtless. It's more socially acceptable to be angry. When's the last time there's been a great movie about people just sitting around being sad? It's all about the anger and the resulting kill crazy rampage that follows. There are no good sorrow movies, but there are several really, really good ones about anger and revenge.
Lately I've tried to be angry and go with it. It's easier than wallowing in the overwhelming sense of defeat that swallows me about three times a day. Today, I was told that I look "down and out." Well, honestly? I am. Today is actually the first day in one month and six days that I've not cried at least once. Today? Not a single tear. And it's because I've committed to just being angry.
I used to think about what I would do when it eventually happened and could never really come up with a good plan as the whole prospect was just so freakin' inconceivable. It would have been easier to conceptualize a massive blast of solar radiation from the sun frying the earth than it was to know what life would be like after. So...I guess maybe the denial stage of the stages of loss/grief/etc was kicking in on that one. That must mean that then came the depression...and the grief over my inability...to just be. And the cursing...curse me and my complicated ways. Me with my multisyllabic, odd name that can't be found on "customized" toothbrushes and pens. Me with my degree in the physical sciences, big boobs, and authoritative position in this "upwardly mobile" life I'm trying to build for myself. Me with my wanderlust, graceful clumsiness, and curious ways. Me with my rogue reproductive system. Me. But why be angry with myself when it's so much easier to be angry with other people. Granted, logic says that anger should be directed at the situation, for if there's any deserving party, it's the situation. But anger defies logic, you see, so fingers certainly cannot be pointed at the deserving party.
I want to be angry. I really, really do. But the oddest thing happened - I committed myself to anger but when faced with the entity at which I want to direct my rage, I can't be angry. I'm enjoying myself too much to be mad. I never saw this coming...unexpected outcomes. Then again, I never thought I'd feel progressively worse about something with each passing day - wtf with that? But yeah, I want to roar and rage and rampage, but I fear I just don't have it in me. And though it's in my nature to want to lash out (similar to the manner an injured animal does) when hurt, I get distracted and laugh and have fun. I genuinely enjoy myself. Perhaps deep down I know that anger will get me nowhere. Deep down I know that sometimes shit just happens. The philosophy of there being no good and no bad, just what's there and it's all in what we make of a situation...appreciating the cards we've been dealt. Deep down I know that I don't really have a good reason to feel so bad...there are the greats and then there are the best of what's there. And then there are situations where being the best of what's there is like being the smartest kid with down's syndrome. What about that is worth mourning over? At least no one's dead.
...except for the Monday Night Girl. I think she's lost and gone forever, but where's the loss in that?
Thursday, March 23, 2006
Damn Thursday
I started my morning, waking up oddly refereshed for it being 1 am and then proceeded to lie in bed and watch part of a Discovery Channel documentary on volcanoes before going through the morning routine of washing, drying, straightening, painting, perfuming, and dressing before driving into work.
The way the streets always seem to glisten and the stoplights can be seen clear down the road tend to give the middle of the night a certain uncharacterizable charm. This is probably the only time of the day that can be as interesting at the end of waking hours as it is at the begining. Even the radio stations play better music at night. Usually, I try to find the old "AM Gold" standards - Moody Blues, Three Dog, etc, but this morning it was all about the hair-rock. Can't really recall the song on the radio, but can tell you that it was one that inspired me to think of the last time in the middle of the night, I kicked back and enjoyed the radio. Sitting on couches, somewhere in Kentucky, listening to "Sweet Child of Mine" and marveling over the GuitarGod known as Slash. The night is always conducive to etching even the most mundane into the brain.
So here I am, sitting at my desk in what is now almost my 4th hour at work. Considering hopping in the car and driving into town for a real (unhealthy) breakfast and a newspaper and a good view of the sun rising. Today I must remain in motion for if I stop, it'll be too tempting to sleep. Under the desk? Out in my car? In the bathroom? There are very few good options for refuge from the waking world. And too many options for thought. I think I think too much. I think I need to decide what all to see and do while back up in Chicago for the weekend. I think I need to go get some breakfast.
I started my morning, waking up oddly refereshed for it being 1 am and then proceeded to lie in bed and watch part of a Discovery Channel documentary on volcanoes before going through the morning routine of washing, drying, straightening, painting, perfuming, and dressing before driving into work.
The way the streets always seem to glisten and the stoplights can be seen clear down the road tend to give the middle of the night a certain uncharacterizable charm. This is probably the only time of the day that can be as interesting at the end of waking hours as it is at the begining. Even the radio stations play better music at night. Usually, I try to find the old "AM Gold" standards - Moody Blues, Three Dog, etc, but this morning it was all about the hair-rock. Can't really recall the song on the radio, but can tell you that it was one that inspired me to think of the last time in the middle of the night, I kicked back and enjoyed the radio. Sitting on couches, somewhere in Kentucky, listening to "Sweet Child of Mine" and marveling over the GuitarGod known as Slash. The night is always conducive to etching even the most mundane into the brain.
So here I am, sitting at my desk in what is now almost my 4th hour at work. Considering hopping in the car and driving into town for a real (unhealthy) breakfast and a newspaper and a good view of the sun rising. Today I must remain in motion for if I stop, it'll be too tempting to sleep. Under the desk? Out in my car? In the bathroom? There are very few good options for refuge from the waking world. And too many options for thought. I think I think too much. I think I need to decide what all to see and do while back up in Chicago for the weekend. I think I need to go get some breakfast.
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