This morning I woke up and realized I spent the whole night fighting sleep, wanting to wake up and put my c-pap machine on my face, but falling back asleep every time I remembered. I had repetitive dreams revolving around the numbers 11 and 18. I had to line people up in sets of 11 and then later something to do with the number 18. I don't know...maybe I should work them into the lottery somehow. Numbers are a recurring theme in my dreams, especially ones that are out of place for the scene they are in. Such as a $7 bill, or 57 o'clock. Any ideas?
Before going to bed, I caved in to one of my guilty pleasures: nerdy science fiction. I was watching a program I DVR'ed at my parents house in a series called "The Prophets of Science Fiction", episode: "Philip K. Dick". Sooo fascinating. Which is exactly why falling asleep was the last thing I wanted to do. I must've fought with the rewind button for two hours. It was insane, the one moment I have to shamelessly watch a nerdy show no one would want to sit through with me, and I can't even sit through it myself! AAArgh!
I decided I was going to spend more time listening to what people say and less time interrupting them with an anecdote of my own, no matter how fitting. So today, I did just that...now my Mom and daughter think i'm acting "weird". Now, I know my second middle name is weird, so this was not at all a "weird" thing to say, but, the reason they thought i was being "weird" in a way that was weirder than the usual weird, was because I was staring blankly at them. Making them uncomfortable. I guess if I am going to actually listen to a person talk, I should try not to go off on tangents in my mind unrelated to anything.
...there are a lot of euphamisms and catch phrases involving the word Tom. Peeping Tom. Tom, Dick and Harry. Tomboy. Tommy Gun. Tom Turkey. Pat & Tom. Tom Tom...
See what I mean? Speaking of blank spots, such is this rainy Seattle-esque day. I mean, just plain blah! This weekend at the parents house, I was not joined by my BF Qual. He had to work. My daughter went to a birthday slumber party, then came back today ready to do her homework. My nephew left with my sister and brother in law just moments ago and my dad snuck off to the store while I was typing this blog when he knew I needed to go. (I am not supposed to drive in the state of missouri...i don't wanna get into it) My mom snuck off to the store before i woke up. hehehe I know what's going on here...I spend too long in the store and no one wants to be bothered. In fact, I don't even want to be bothered with this boring blog, but i just keep going and going anyway...what was I saying?
On that note, I think I should go. I need to be alert in case someone should feel so kind as to drop me off at the store. I don't have internet at my house, but I am here every weekend. I will be posting an extra long blog for the entire week on Saturdays. The next blog will be sooner because of the Thanksgiving holiday. That should be an interesting blog, indeed. So stay tuned. Or as I like to say - Plugged into the Matrix.
Until then...
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Social Outcast
Just came across a revelation today...social networking isn't designed for people like me. Even though i'm a social butterfly, my wings always wind up flapping in the faces of voyeurs.
That's fine if my followers are Peeping Tom's, keeping their opinions to themselves, the watchers, the easily distracted, the easily entertained at a daycare, sitting in a huddle, listening to the passing bag lady weave tales of awe and awkwardness, a big pinwheeled lollipop in one of their hands and a huge styrofoam mascot-type thumb over the other.
Luckily I haven't gotten to the point where I talk to walls or other inanimate objects. (Although I do have a tendency to keep talking after a person has walked away just to get my point across, or inspire listeners to pray they contract a nagging case of Attention Deficit Disorder in order to tactlessly change the subject entirely) In fact, at this point, some readers may have already stopped reading, or simply stopped paying attention to the meaning of the english language altogether. But to those troopers desperately and morbidly curious enough to stick around for the trainwreck, you are in for a real treat. I can't guarantee it won't be filled with empty calories, however.
I sit here on the bus on this mostly cloudy Saturday afternoon. I just finished nearly five hours of voluntary overtime. A headphone-clad coworker at one point started singing country music as loud as she possibly could, piercing the tense silence...
clacking fingertips on keyboards suddenly stopped, nervous laughter ensued. The supervisor chimed in with nervous laughter for a moment, until the loud off-key yodeling persisted, until nervous laughter felt more like concerns she'd finally snapped, the slightly-strange-always-conservatively-dressed-colleague who'd always been teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
Was today the day?
The supervisor's nervous laughter suddenly stopped. As she approached this mental tightrope act, I couldn't help but be reminded of the times I was acting obnoxiously as a kid in an attempt to distract my mother from remembering she told me to do something, only to be greeted with the simplest ultimatum of them all: "1...2..."
by the time she was thinking about the number 3, the coworker immediately stopped singing and said quickly
"Alright! I'm done. Seriously. I'm done"
...we all went back to what we were doing. Mind numbing data entry. It was almost legendary. Almost.
On my walk to the Metrolink, I stopped by a sandwich shop in the Union Station Tourist Trap Mall. I ordered a sandwich and wanted it exactly as it appeared on the menu board, so as to minimize confusion. The staff seemed to have no clue what really came on the sandwich, as they continually asked if I wanted toppings not listed and not asked for. Then, once I stated what I wanted on the sandwich, the cook still tried to put toppings on it that weren't listed and weren't asked for. I repeated what I wanted two more times, wondering if "not listed and not asked for toppings" was some sort of elaborate special order. When the cook was done, he slopped the sandwich in styrofoam, shoved the styrofoam in an oversized bag, and mumbled my order quickly before walking away...
Really? I asked for an item on your menu and suddenly i'm to blame that you have no idea how it's made? Why do ignorant people think their ignorance is a badge of honor? Why?
More importantly, why am I wasting money buying food that will make me unhealthy? In fact, why do I get irritated when some yank can't prepare my toxins to specification? Have I gone mad?
Somehow, I will find a way to eat food with simple ingredients that I have prepared myself. I have to. Laziness only breeds more laziness. From poor eating habits to lack of exercise. Period.
Later...
ok ok ok...As I ate my fast food sandwich all I could think was:
"Damn, this is the best toxin sandwich I've ever eaten!"
Even later...
hours have passed since that tastebud delight and I realize my mind was justifying being fed it's fix: "It has vegetables on it, it's good for me" ...Eve thought the apple was good for her when she bit into it...i'm just sayin'...
So anyway, as a result, I have come up with five simple rules for living:
1. Eat food that is simple, fresh, and prepared myself whenever possible
2. Stop watching so much television. When you are rating commercials from most to least favorite and have favorite programs each night of the week, it's simply too much!
3. Write more...hence: the reason for this blog
4. Get more rest. Dark circles under the eye, and that haggard ten-years-older expression is not a good look.
5. Exercise more. I do Darth Vader impersonations spontaneously now...need I say more
That's fine if my followers are Peeping Tom's, keeping their opinions to themselves, the watchers, the easily distracted, the easily entertained at a daycare, sitting in a huddle, listening to the passing bag lady weave tales of awe and awkwardness, a big pinwheeled lollipop in one of their hands and a huge styrofoam mascot-type thumb over the other.
Luckily I haven't gotten to the point where I talk to walls or other inanimate objects. (Although I do have a tendency to keep talking after a person has walked away just to get my point across, or inspire listeners to pray they contract a nagging case of Attention Deficit Disorder in order to tactlessly change the subject entirely) In fact, at this point, some readers may have already stopped reading, or simply stopped paying attention to the meaning of the english language altogether. But to those troopers desperately and morbidly curious enough to stick around for the trainwreck, you are in for a real treat. I can't guarantee it won't be filled with empty calories, however.
I sit here on the bus on this mostly cloudy Saturday afternoon. I just finished nearly five hours of voluntary overtime. A headphone-clad coworker at one point started singing country music as loud as she possibly could, piercing the tense silence...
clacking fingertips on keyboards suddenly stopped, nervous laughter ensued. The supervisor chimed in with nervous laughter for a moment, until the loud off-key yodeling persisted, until nervous laughter felt more like concerns she'd finally snapped, the slightly-strange-always-conservatively-dressed-colleague who'd always been teetering on the brink of a nervous breakdown.
Was today the day?
The supervisor's nervous laughter suddenly stopped. As she approached this mental tightrope act, I couldn't help but be reminded of the times I was acting obnoxiously as a kid in an attempt to distract my mother from remembering she told me to do something, only to be greeted with the simplest ultimatum of them all: "1...2..."
by the time she was thinking about the number 3, the coworker immediately stopped singing and said quickly
"Alright! I'm done. Seriously. I'm done"
...we all went back to what we were doing. Mind numbing data entry. It was almost legendary. Almost.
On my walk to the Metrolink, I stopped by a sandwich shop in the Union Station Tourist Trap Mall. I ordered a sandwich and wanted it exactly as it appeared on the menu board, so as to minimize confusion. The staff seemed to have no clue what really came on the sandwich, as they continually asked if I wanted toppings not listed and not asked for. Then, once I stated what I wanted on the sandwich, the cook still tried to put toppings on it that weren't listed and weren't asked for. I repeated what I wanted two more times, wondering if "not listed and not asked for toppings" was some sort of elaborate special order. When the cook was done, he slopped the sandwich in styrofoam, shoved the styrofoam in an oversized bag, and mumbled my order quickly before walking away...
Really? I asked for an item on your menu and suddenly i'm to blame that you have no idea how it's made? Why do ignorant people think their ignorance is a badge of honor? Why?
More importantly, why am I wasting money buying food that will make me unhealthy? In fact, why do I get irritated when some yank can't prepare my toxins to specification? Have I gone mad?
Somehow, I will find a way to eat food with simple ingredients that I have prepared myself. I have to. Laziness only breeds more laziness. From poor eating habits to lack of exercise. Period.
Later...
ok ok ok...As I ate my fast food sandwich all I could think was:
"Damn, this is the best toxin sandwich I've ever eaten!"
Even later...
hours have passed since that tastebud delight and I realize my mind was justifying being fed it's fix: "It has vegetables on it, it's good for me" ...Eve thought the apple was good for her when she bit into it...i'm just sayin'...
So anyway, as a result, I have come up with five simple rules for living:
1. Eat food that is simple, fresh, and prepared myself whenever possible
2. Stop watching so much television. When you are rating commercials from most to least favorite and have favorite programs each night of the week, it's simply too much!
3. Write more...hence: the reason for this blog
4. Get more rest. Dark circles under the eye, and that haggard ten-years-older expression is not a good look.
5. Exercise more. I do Darth Vader impersonations spontaneously now...need I say more
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