Last evening I had a premonition
that I would have a bad dream during the night.
And I did.
So now the question is:
is the dream
also
a premonition?

Happy Birthday to ME!

(hellooooo debt)

Had a great birthday and weekend... thanks for the comments. Enough for a cheesy happy face - :D

Now I'm in the frantic last scoop of time before I have to be at the airport in Kansas City at... 6am? What was I thinking? Looking forward to seeing some of you, and missing the rest of you.

1989

Why do you write these things down? Resolving, dedicating your efforts to a consciously created change in your life. I have no use for that kind of resolutions although I make them again and again. The choices that matter were made already. You made them without needing to enunciate them to yourself, even in your own mind. I didn't need words to convince myself or relate to anyone what I already knew.

"I kept thinking, if I just keep living, someone will come along eventually who understands me." - approximate quote from the movie 'Adaptation'. Not because I explain myself - no one ever understands another person, in a true way, wholly understands them, because they have fully explained themselves. I just thought someone would come along one day and need no words at all.

And how would you understand me? All I have to give up are my stringy thoughts. Self-indulgent and themed only around myself and the pool of created anxiety in which I live. Now I'm even making you read them. And why do people say that beauty is sad? Because it is. But we're only saddened by beauty when we are trying to explain it to ourselves.

I sat on the beige couch, beige with little blue pineapples all over it in some neo-colonial urge of the 80's. I touched the little pineapples with my toes. One by one. Behind the couch was a window facing the street. I looked out at our happy suburban neighborhood and thought, I am lonely. I have no real connections to any other person here.

the mundane details

I'll be flying to VA on the 21st, into Newport News/Williamsburg in the afternoon. Only eight little days left!

Update on the car situation: I picked one out, tried to talk the guy down to no avail, agreed to buy it anyway (of course) and now am waiting for my check to clear the bank, which the nice bank ladies said it should do on Monday. This is, naturally, much longer than I want to wait. It really makes me feel like I'm about six and there's some huge shiny present under the tree with my name on it. Except it's actually a really dirty and salt-coated car sitting on some guy's driveway.

Yesterday I applied for a job as a dispatcher at a cable company (what does this mean? I don't know). Hopefully, they will love me, hire me, pay me a lot and not mind if I quit three months from now. If I can make it to March I'll be free from temping FOREVER!

And that's all I've got.

"Blogger: Term used to describe anyone with enough time or narcissism to document every tedious bit of minutia filling their uneventful lives."

- http://maddox.xmission.com/

10:04 am

I sighed and pushed the uncomfortable cheap black headset off my head and placed it on the desk. I can tell that my eyes look slanty and tired like when you first wake up in the morning. I stand up and walk out of the cubicle that I'm sharing with currently four other women. Only one of us works without stopping all day, and I can't really tell what it is that she's doing. It involves a lot of faxing and computer work. I walk down the narrow hallway, on the nubby multi-colored carpet, to the lunch room, a smooth name for a room containing five vending machines, four tables, a fridge and a sink. And a coffeemaker. I think they make the coffee the night before, based on its general texture and aroma. I pour some of it into a green plastic cup and stir in some sugar with a white plastic knife, the only utinsil occupying the flourescent-bulbed room.
This job is starting to feel like the movie Groundhog Day, where I got sucked into some strange cycle where today is supposedly my last day here, every day, every week. I never know I'm coming back tomorrow but always do, living in my own personal Office Space. I watched way too many movies about offices like this one before working in one, resulting in my inability to shake the feeling that I'm now permanently living in a movie that didn't do well at the box office.
Fortunately, this current and, by nature, temporary position is spiced up by the fact that a) I'll be in Virginia in 16 days, and b) I'm going to buy my own, non-shared with anyone car before I go.
I'm currently debating between a 90's Honda, Toyota or Volkswagen (the last of which are proving to be hard to find). Any input is appreciated. The criteria for these choices are: 4-door (I don't know anyone who really likes crawling over a slanted front seat to be stuck riding in a teensy back with no leg room), 4-cyl (for fuel efficiency) 5-speed, for $5000 or less. Go.

Today I'm making gingerbread cookies as Christmas presents for people (I never said I wasn't cheap) and Nate is watching football on the tiny tv that my neighbor dumped on me when she moved out last month. I say dumped to maintain my righteous stance that I don't believe in having a tv, although I really did want it. I like to be a hypocrite and then expose my own hypocrisy, therefore making light of it and undermining its wrongness.
Anyway, as I pulled a cookie sheet covered with perfect little brown men out of the tiny oven and glanced into the living room, I saw the next fifty years of my life go by. I'm already someone's nice little grandma baking cookies after church.
I just thought I'd share.




The End.

shoo, the gas station burger comes with fries

Firstly: I am now paying more attention to what I eat than I ever have in my life. The primary reason for this is that I have, in a very official way, stopped buying any products containing partially hydrogenated oils. This may sound extreme to some, but did you know that even one gram of trans fat, eaten on a regular basis, can increase your risk of heart disease 20%? (Will site source for this when re-find it.) It is also linked to cancer amongst other afflictions. Plus, if you don't eat it for a while you realize that it actually makes you feel mildly ill when you do eat it.

Anyway, this also means that I've almost completely stopped eating fast food over the past few months. So now, at my horrible temping job, I usually bring a lunch that is comprised of whole grains, raw vegetables, cottage cheese, etc. Yesterday the people who sort of share my cubicle were talking about where to go for lunch. One of them wanted to go to Burger King, the other wanted to go to the gas station across the parking lot, which incidentally sells burgers as well as fuel (lucky public!!). This in and of itself wasn't so bad, but listening to them discuss the details of their preferences, and having my mind filled with the merits of flat, greasy, death-inducing burgers and soggy fries made me feel sick.

I think I may have crossed some line. I might now be one of those food snob health-junkies who annoys everyone by snacking on carrots. I'm sorry.