Why'd Ya Go And Do That?

Did you know that Mandy Patinkin and Madonna recorded a Sondheim duet together? These things do happen.

If I Clean Your House, Please Don't Take Offense

For a few reasons:

1. It comes from a place of love. I can't cook, knit, sew, or build anything to contribute to the group. But cleaning is a skill you can learn, and when I put my mind to it I can clean pretty well. So that's what I can contribute to the cause. I do it to help out, not because I think you are dirty. I do it to give you one less thing to worry about. I do it for that great feeling of getting something done that you didn't have to do yourself. I do it to brighten your environment in a way you didn't expect.

It's all I can contribute. Please allow me.

2. For a little while, I get to distract myself from whatever is going on. It's usually when I'm alone, I pop in some headphones and go to town. Meditatioin.

3. My out of shape ass makes it an aerobic exercise. It's good for me. That's built in stress relief while achieving a measurable goal: mentally and physically healthy.

I'm not saying I do a perfect job. But I try to cover whatever I think is important for you. And I try to stay out of your personal stuff.

When To Call It, What To Call It

Here's one way to tell it: 

• Woke up and my foot is still a problem. The blister has left a crater in my heel. Were I a grosser, more sadistic person, I’d post a photo. Shoes hurt.
• Running behind, can’t stop for breakfast. And by breakfast, I mean my RDA of the Pepsi Colas and the Dr. Peppers. 
• Get to parking garage, lock keys in car.
• Locked out of computer at work. (Noticing a theme here?) Spend 10-20 minutes on hold with IT trying to get back on.
• Get pulled into surprise conference call at work. Literally have a phone to each ear as I try to coordinate getting locksmith.
• Locksmith arrives 30 minutes early. Good thing I finally answered my phone.
•  Locksmith can’t get into parking garage. Clock out from work and walk down to garage. . .
•  . . . Where I proceed to give the locksmith the wrong street entrance. Twice. Good times.
• Somewhere in all of this, traditional period cramps return with a surprising amount of vigor.

  

It’s fair to say that somewhere in all of this I got extremely flustered. But there’s an important point here of which I try to remind anyone who thinks my life is too awful:

In this world, there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so. The story is all in how you tell it. Because: 

• I’m wearing my most comfortable pants and a fairly pretty new shirt today.
• My hair is not perfect, but it looks a bajillion times better than it did Monday. Also the zit on my nose mysteriously disappeared overnight.
• On a hunch and motivated by financial desperation, I called Ye Olde Credit Carde Company. I get AAA-like benefits and can get my car unlocked for free.
• I packed my dorky and inappropriate but very comfortable sandals. I wear them to run down to the garage.
• The sun is out and it’s a beautiful day.
• Even though I totally bollocks the directions, the locksmith is super friendly and nice when I finally do meet up with him.
• I use my clock out time to grab some beverages and jerky. To go.

"I'll take a glazed doughnut. And a bottle of anything. . . to go!"

Upon returning to the office, I decided to invoke a McConaugheDay, modified, of course.

For those of you new to the concept, a McConaugheDay is when, no matter what, everything is just “alright, alright, alright.”

It’s related to No Fucks Given. I’ve only invoked them in the past on a day off. Usually bowling is involved.

But here’s the thing about life: it tends to get easier the more slack you cut other people. There may not even be such a thing as true altruism, from my perspective, since most things are done to indirectly benefit the self, in some way. Rather than focus on the depressingly selfish side of that, I like to think of it as a really great incentive to make the world a better place.

So I’m calling it a McConaugheDay. It’s gonna be a test of my Zen and ability to Give As Few Fucks As Possible. But I think it’s worth a shot.

And no sooner was I looking up that lovely David Lee Roth image above than the Senior Partner comes over to educate me about how the expense report I submitted was wrong* and how I should stop my boss from doing such thing**.

And you know what? I ain’t even mad. Not upset, not victimized. not guilty, not picked on.

Perhaps the McConaugheDay is more powerful than I credited. We shall see.

*he don’t know the half of it. srsly.

** as if! ha!

Unexpected Phone Interview

There is nothing like being loopy and totally unprepared for a phone interview. Cheese and rice, that was stressful.

And he was a lawyer. Normally, I'd be ready to go. But I am not myself today and having some congestion medication loopiness. Took stuff this morning because, I foolishly thought, "I got nothing going on today. Don't even have to drive anywhere."

Ha ha. Handy J needs a ride to work after all. Lawyer calls to grill me. Yikes.

Also unexpected: landing an interview from this phone call. I have to go buy some kinda suit for my fat ass. Yuck.

While this is good news, in a sense, it's mostly filling me with an unspecified dread. This is a real job, not something I can just screw off and do. I will have to learn stuff.

I obvs need to do this, because financial reasons. Furthermore, I should probably give up the ghost on any of my dreams and start getting real about my future.

I've had all this time to make something happen and I haven't. Doesn't that mean it will never happen? Maybe I'm not hungry enough. Maybe I didn't try hard enough? I am not sure what to do even now, so I think that's probably a given. Maybe I just didn't have what it takes to really go for it.

(EW*): Untitled (Viscera Bard)

last time I saw him he seemed so sad,

sad down to the bone.

And maybe I’d be more mad about the emotional effluvia that kind of Sad produces,

(it gets all over you

alloveryou

and eats your heart

replacing it with shadow)

but I’m a might busy trying to stop the soup,

my heart,

from sloshing out of my ribs.

how can i tell a man, no matter his faults,

his cruelties,

his mistakes,

that the Sadness he feels isn’t breaking his heart all the same?

Aware and recalcitrant or oblivious and angry,

how can i possibly say

what lattice work of shards has soaked down through his skin?

In that kind of Sadness, aren’t we all saying the same thing: How the fuck did this happen? This is not what I want.

So, no, i really have no one else to blame

for letting the truth slip in.

Ignorance or activation,

it’s this inaction that’s a sin.

You Know When You've Been Up For Awhile?

And you're bipping around the house, and after you've spontaneously wallered on the floor with the cat and zipped up and down the stairs a few times, you realize that you are Just A Wee Bit Cracked Out and Manic?

And you think, Hmm, why am I in this weird mood?

And there's this brief, brief flash of color, sound, memory--something you must have dreamed the night before.

But as soon as you try to grab a hold it melts and drifts away.

So you are walking around feeling like somebody told you a great joke and you just got done laughing, but you can't remember the punchline.

That feeling.

ALSO: the NFG tour has received its first submission!

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