Inspirational Facebook Posts

Facebook posts I wrote long ago that inspired someone to say Girl! Start a Blog!  

So here's a tribute to myself!

Go Me!

  A Facebook friend you and I became. Messages exchanged with stories at the start. And then the messages came no more. A chance is taken with each post on the rejection of “no reply.” Some people occasionally respond with a “kickback” response on your wall, instead of taking the time to make a call to express care or concern. Some people accumulate friends as if they are sticky gummy treats, and sticky gummy post they post that feed today’s individual souls. Pictures are posted that show good times, and a simple 100 Happy Birthday posts are posted your wall for your B-day, without thought of an original post. Chit, chat; let’s chat and take away the need to compose a full sentence. And now our posts are not even thoughts, but updates of your whereabouts for all to know. And so we empty out less of ourselves, and more about our locations of where we have been and where we are at. If only we could share the whereabouts of where our hearts have been and where our hearts are at. Time is not what if once was, and neither is the human connection of a many spoken word.

So a little over two years ago, I recall always posting what I thought were creative posts to my Facebook page. And I recall being frustrated at the limitations of the 100 or so characters you had to maintain to post something. Then someone suggested that I start a blog to add length to my creative thought. And for those of you that read my blog... oh what great length I have added. I no longer even try to post creative thought on Facebook. Facebook updates for me are old news, something of yesterday.  

And so I am going to post some of my old posts on Facebook, just so you can all have fond recollections of when I used to post things on my page! 

Personification…

• Oh, but I care about you a little more then the others, you’re not the average ordinary… You look good and have some personality. Oh the loss of you will be felt, as one without the other simply does not work. (a lost black floral sock)

• I would like to occupy that empty space; however I sense your movement, your sudden movement to propel yourself ahead, to gain access to that void before me. You move forward as I slow down my pace, and somehow we don’t collide as we come to fill the same space together. And onward we continue to our destinations. (two cars coming to merge into the same lane)

• Every day I set out to maneuver around you, as your gaping holes of emptiness are of an inconvenience to me. And so it goes, my expectations of you potentially ruining my day, if I should run across you. But today (at least there) you were fixed, and it made my day! And perhaps tomorrow; there, you will be fixed. (potholes getting repaired)

• I feel you might snap at any moment, give way, part ways… You rumble as we go along, and oh how you shudder when action is required of you. It seems I can not ignore your protests any longer, but that I must fix you… or else you will surely abandon me on the side of the road. (my broken wheel)

• I didn’t check you out yesterday, but today when I did; you hadn’t bothered to come anyway. No “mail” love, but “mail” love is never any good anyway.

• I think that it is your way of telling me you given up, that you lived the good life, that you’ve given me your all. You keep tripping me up and coming undone. I put you together at the start of the day, and then undone you come over and over as the day continues. But your attachment to your sole purpose creates a problem I will just have to deal with. (shoelace on my shoe coming undone always)

• Yes, I push your buttons all the time, just because you are the first in line; yet I cringe each time you rush up and volunteer to assist me to bring me to where I need to go. I quickly push their buttons and hope one volunteers, as they are much faster at doing what you do. You are slow and quite often smell. (the big freight elevator vs the 3 smaller freight elevators at work)

Poems about random people

• When I see someone at the gym going really fast on some cardio equipment, I don’t think “Wow, that’s awesome!” I think instead, “Whoa, Whoa, no need to for such excitement, you can go ahead and calm the fuck down, no really calm down.”  

•  She said “Here’s your ‘creamer,” when I had asked for a “steamer.” So I thought I was drinking steamed cream, and not steamed milk, and I was to shy to say “Excuse me, did you say Steam or Cream?” Thanks a lot barista lady for ruining my drink for the day by placing preconceived notions in my head, as I refuse to drink Steamed Cream.

•  Dear Mom, I love that I can text, and that you text me back! However, LOL, does not mean “love you a lot,” it means “laugh out loud.” And if you were laughing out loud for the text I sent you, well we need to talk.

• To the new personal trainer I decided to try out today: sure holding hands is great, but not when you are making me balance on bosu ball and do squats when my legs are shaking uncontrollably, and I am completely relying on our hand holding to keep me upright! Just made me soo not be into you. I don’t want to see you ever again.

·      

  

Dirty Jobs

Dirty details of my job, mind you not entirely.

And normally I am not a category 5, what am I?

I work at a place where people sway from side to side as they walk with fierce determination to the nearest bathroom, and back to the bar again. Once someone walked with the familiar drunken sway, and spewed small amounts of vomit along the way to mark their way back to the bar. People sometimes arrive at my place of work with bloodied faces and hands from the drunken fight that they encountered on their way back home. Many people arrive without the means to open the door to the place they wish to sleep, and they yell and pitch a fit when we refuse to accommodate them as they are not listed on the “lease.” 

And I am not a pilot inspector, what am I?

It is always the ladies of the wedding party that are the most ridiculous of them all. She says “I ordered pizza an hour ago from Pizza Place of Such, and I am so hungry I could chew off my arm, what the F are you going to do about that?” I tell her I can connect her to the location of which her pizza would be originating from and she tells me that that is not good enough, I personally need to take care of her dilemma!! After much swearing and no reasoning, I hang up on her. She calls back, I hang up on her. She calls back again and again, irate that I am hanging up on her. She tells me that customer service does not allow for the employee to EVER hang up on a customer! She then comes down the location of my whereabouts, and insists on spewing venom at me in person. The young blond is eventually escorted away by the father of the bride who is called only because she refuses to give up on her tirade, until I can take back the hang up’s.

And I am not of a Pepsi Product, what am I?

Sometime they come pint sized, and it always about the bathroom. One would think I work as a bathroom attendant. And so he comes to me and asks that I unlock the bathroom. He is of short stature, and he is mean in the face. He yells at me with great ferocity saying “I am paying to stay here, and you are saying I have to go up to my temporary place of residence and use MY bathroom!??!” He emphasizes the ridiculousness of having to use HIS bathroom many times to me. He is a very important person and he is entitled to have me leading the way to the bathroom, heavy keys of many swinging from my belt to unlock the bathroom just for him. “Please sir, pee at your leisure, I will wait patiently to lock the facilities back up, and Sir if you need someone to wipe your ass, please just give a shout out.” And so with much anxiety over the first encounter; his words of “I will be reporting you;” ringing heavily in my head, on the very same night, a lady with slight shortness arrived before me and implied how desperately she needed to use the bathroom. Given her very modern, much in fashion attire, I gave her the benefit of the doubt and marched her promptly over to the restrooms and unlocked the heavy door. And there I stood patiently waiting. I could hear the clicky of her shoes as she shifted back and forth in front of the mirror attending to her face and its many layers of her perfect shade of foundation. After a fair amount of my wasted time, I politely opened the door and told her she needed to leave the women’s restroom fairly soon… in the nearby future. She told me I was creepy and she continued with her grooming. She departed a long 5 minutes later. Well this awful lady came back two more times to clinch her teeth together in anger and pull back her lips in a growl to tell me that I had not jumped fast enough or high enough to help her with her needs. Oh what an ugly face that was with its terrible snarl.

You may think you have guessed as to what I am,

but if your conclusion is one of a “To Catch a Tiger Assistant,”

you are wrong. What am I?

And once; pause; I took a call at the midnight hour, to have the man tell me how awful we were as this place of employment to not tell those arriving that they were staying in a busy downtown location, and to warn them they might hear noise from outside. Certainly we the employees where not Christians when we could not warn those who might slumber later that night that they might hear music from nearby night clubs. Was I aware of reverberation and of sound bouncing upward to his high location on floor 31!?!?! Double strike for us and how our non-Christian ways had us placing him high up in the building to HA! Sleep away the night! He was a Born Again Christian, and certainly this was not treatment Christ intended for him to suffer.

And I like to travel in clockwise direction at my place of work. What am I?

Shortly after 11pm one night I received a call from a mother who was residing in a room with her children who had just attended an exciting Teeny Bobber Music concert. She called to state that one of her children had found a green pill on the floor. She was very concerned about this pill as it was a green capsule with white substance in it, and it was unmarked. She stated that she was a registered nurse, and implied the pill was not legal, and that her child could have been poisoned both in putting the pill in her mouth or by touching it. She told me that the child was excited and thought it was one of those “towel in a capsule” toys. She insisted I come up to the room and collect the pill. She continued to tell me about how dangerous it would have been for a toddler to have gotten a hold of the pill. (all 4 children looked to be at least 8 years and older) I listened, empathized, and apologized and collected the pill carefully. I also notified my co-workers. (oh and she said they had not noticed the pill prior to their departure to the concert, and they found it after, so they all checked their items to ensure nothing had been stolen (while the drug deal had gone on in the room during their time at the concert)).

These stories are only six of a thousand. What am I?

I am a helper of all things. I can find your lost friend. I can transfer you to china. I can tell you where you might shop for antiques in the city across the border. I can tell you where you can purchase just about anything from cuff links to prophylactics. If someone called your cell phone, and you don’t know who the caller is, I can track that person down. I solve impossible problems and allow people’s persons to take out the frustration of their life or the day out on my person. I deal with the intoxicated and those who are most in touch with their inner stupid. This is my life. This is what I do. 

What am I?

Suprise Party!

“Waking up this morning, I smile. Twenty-four brand new hours are before me. I vow to
live fully in each moment and to look at all beings with eyes of compassion.” “

― Thich
Nhat Hanh

My mother does not like surprises. One year when my siblings and I were young; mmm say
between the ages of 8 and 12, we thought we should throw our mother a surprise
party. At this time I had not come anywhere close to obtaining my ninja like sneaky
skills or great knack for lying and therefore; my sister and brother and I were
quite obvious about being up to something about particular incidents that might
occur on the day of July 21^st, the day of my mothers birthday. The
three of us had decided we would invite our dear friends, the Schleup family to
our house; there was five of them; three parents and two children. Our family
was to head into town in the early afternoon hours to pass the time at the
nearest bowling alley to have fun playing low scoring bowling games, and when
we were almost done with the 3^rd game, (as we always played 3
games), we would call the Shleups and let them know to head out to our place
and wait for our arrival. Never mind that we lived in the country, and that
there would be no where for them to hide the car, as immediately upon driving
up the driveway, there their car would sit. Never mind that we did not think to
somehow leave a door unlocked so they would not have to sit in a hot car, or
stand outside in the dry summer heat. Never mind that cell phones were
something of a foreign and future concept, so once that phone call was made
from the bowling alley giving the heads up to head out, contact would be no
more as they waited at the house for our dusty rumbling Chevy Suburban arrival.
(You could see a vehicle a mile away approaching down the gravel road, as we
lived upon a hill with no distractions but flat wheat fields to keep your eye
from following the tire rock kicking approach of any vehicle)  And so to continue…

As the third game was coming up on its final frames, my brother decided to head over and
make the call. When he was half way across the bowling alley, he yelled out to
my sister and me, “Hey what’s the Schleup’s number?’ Well, I shot him a look
like, ‘Who are the Schleups and what do you want with their number?” Then I
said something that would obviously explain the situation to my mother without
giving away the truth about the needed phone call. “Tyler,” I said “Yes, I think I do baby-sit
for them tomorrow; why don’t you call and make sure for me?” Well, oddly that
didn’t do the trick and my mother had confirmation then that a surprise party
was indeed part of the afternoon game plan for her birthday celebration. This
is where we came to find out how much my mother dislikes surprises.

She suddenly thought it would be a great idea to play a 4^th game of bowling. She
did this with great excitement, and I believe she might have even got a Turkey during
the 4^th game. Us kids threw a lot of gutter balls, and I think a few
times we reset the pins for the 2^nd ball just to get done faster.
With great relief we packed up our bowling balls and returned our shoes and
headed out into the bright Montana sun, and piled into the truck and fully
anticipated our mother would drive us straight home to our awaiting guests.
Well with very little warning, my mother announced that she needed to pick up
some potatoes for next week’s dinner, as she took a left turn out of the
parking lot, instead of the right that would have taken us in the direction of
home. The three of us were asked to stay in the car, a usual occurrence for us;
to sit in the car, and so we sat, and my mom took her time and shopped for a
few more items other then potatoes. Well, once again she started up the truck,
and we continued on the way of “Mom is driving, and therefore mom goes where
mom wants to go,” journey. We stopped to top off the nearly full tank of gas
too. Nearly an hour later as we dipped down into the approaching valley before
our house, we could see little people standing outside the house, with their
car gleaming in the hot sun. Needless to say my mother didn’t stop with the continued
pleasant courtesy for their time and she said a curt hello and let them in the
house. She treated them just like us, like naughty children that needed
punishing and the whole thing was quite awkward. Needless to say the experience
scarred me so much that I have and never will throw a surprise party for
anyone, even for someone who might express great joy in a surprise party.

And let us end.


“When you plant lettuce, if it does not grow well, you

don't blame the lettuce. You look for reasons it is not

doing well. It may need fertilizer, or more water, or

less sun. You never blame the lettuce. Yet if we have

problems with our friends or family, we blame the other

person. But if we know how to take care of them, they will

grow well, like the lettuce. Blaming has no positive

effect at all, nor does trying to persuade using reason

and argument. That is my experience. No blame, no

reasoning, no argument, just understanding. If you

understand, and you show that you understand, you can

love, and the situation will change”

― Thich
Nhat Hanh

About Procrastination

Today I wish to discuss alarming people. To begin, I was walking to my car the other day, and without much paying attention, a bicyclist was headed in my direction with his head down, and just as he was about to pass me, he lifted his head, and I had a brief heart stopping moment. But more about that later. 

(I'm going to try to see if I can hold your attention until the end, as I have much to talk about today) 

So, I remember at one time just a few years ago, (a time when I got up early, made myself dinner, and headed to work to stand in front of the time clock, and wait for 10:52pm to arrive, so I could punch in early, as that was the earliest it would allow you to clock in) But more on all of that later. So back to the sentence I just finished, but the start of that sentence; I once thought it appalling to cook a frozen TV dinner meal in the microwave! I mean how could a microwave do justice to this lovely pre-made delectable dinner I wanted to eat. I am embarrassed now to think that I used to not only get up early, but that I got up early enough to bake my frozen dinner in the oven! Then somewhere along the way, I didn't quite make the leap to embracing cooking my meal in the microwave; but instead, I took the next logical step which was to realize I could sleep later, should I decide to eat a granola bar in the car on the way to work; and so began sleeping later. Then I discovered breakfast "shakes," if placing it in a sealed cup and shaking it is what defines it as a shake. So I went about preparing these before I headed out the door and drinking it in the car on the way to work, and sometimes I delighted my early morning, (late evening) taste buds, by complimenting the shake with a granola bar, (or milano cookies, whichever came first). 
I don't know when exactly the change occurred where I no longer found myself at the time clock waiting for the 10:52 hour, but I remember I more often arrived just on time; at the 11pm hour. I was pleased with this. 
I don't quite recall what the next step was to my fall from being a prompt on time person, but I think it happened somewhere between my junior and senior year of college, which for me was my 10th year of on and off again college. I recall how it became quite obvious to me that you could put in a great deal of time and preparation into preparing for a test or putting together a paper, and the outcome could not be 100% guaranteed to result in an A, or even a B. Perhaps the transition into procrastination took place one semester where I worked diligently on a group paper, I took much more time to do my section of the paper, I carefully edited and rewrote sections of the other participants sections, I stayed up all night the final night, feeling so right about the final paper, and then we, or rather I!, received a D on that group paper. However, ironically the teacher graded on curve, and when the class had finished I was the top person of the curve, earning me a solid A in the class, a 100%! So with these two separate incidents having taken place in one class, the great disappointment in a D on a hard worked paper, yet a final A for the class, the shocking conclusion came to me, that the best work and the best outcome came with great procrastination, and little thought. 
You cared less about the outcome and it was far easier to receive a B or a C on a paper, if you gave little effort, but oh how awesome it was to receive an A on a project of which you didn't pay much attention too until the few days before it was due. I only regret I discovered the art of procrastination in my 8th year of college. Perhaps I would have been a traditional student and partied my way through my many freshman and sophomore years, instead of deciding to fit into the category of a "non-traditional" student, who is basically a "student that doesn't party."
I came to discover that the most fantastic shit was spilled out on paper and came together with less needed edits, and thinking and rethinking if you wrote a paper at the last minute. I found that I no longer needed to highlight in the book (and wow! I highlighted sooo much shit, as everything seemed as if though it might be an important detail), and then write diligent notes on notepaper, and then I would write questions and answers on color coded note cards, and go to the gym, and walk around the track reading the note cards, reading the question, then pausing and reading the answer written on the back, over and over, walking a reading, and flipping my note cards back and forth. Oh right so my point was I came to discover that it was much easier to only half listen in class, and hear the subtle 'Ok, pay attention, as you will find this on your quiz next week,' tones in the professors lecture, (although one particular professor actually did announce exactly what would be on the test and repeat several times the exact question that would be asked, it's answer, and then give you a study guide of what to study for, (I got a 100% on every exam). I came to stop taking notes; I stopped highlighting, particularly when I noticed that the headings, sub-heading, bolded words, and a selective sentence read here and there really did suffice in providing adequate enough knowledge to score well in exams. 
My whole world changed. I began to feel really good about being a solid B performer, I began to stop calling people back on the day that they called me. I stopped listening to my voice mails as soon I got home and noticed my blinky light flashing on my (oh what were those things called; oh right; oh no; ummm, you bought them all by themselves in the store, and you proudly put your recording on the... wow, I can not recall what those machines that singularly held the position in the household of answering your phone when you were away, and waiting patiently with it's mouth opening and shutting blinking silently a red light to announce the message to you when you arrived home!) OH! An answering machine! Gah! 
I remember setting up appointments and get together's and then standing people up with a last minute phone call or no phone call at all that I would not be coming. And everyone else was doing just that as well. I started now just having all my shake stuff at work and making my breakfast shake only once I arrived at work. The lovely breakfast snack went by the wayside, as it saved time at the grocery aisle if you skipped the cookie aisle all together. And, then something incredible happened one day, I discovered that frozen TV dinners were way better cooked in the microwave, not because it tasted better, but it saved you an incredible amount of time. I came to spend less time at the grocery store, as this requires list writing, and thinking ahead, and I found myself spending more time in the line at Starbucks picking up a chai tea and pastry, (as my tastebuds still required some delight). Heck, I stopped writing to do lists, or list of any sort all together. My sticky notes have come to serve no purpose but to take up space in my desk. And my most recent proud accomplishment is having a second set of makeup at work, and waiting until I get to work to Get Ready! Wow, what a concept, get ready for work when you are at work! Oh the snoozing that occurs now! And, it gets better, the time clock operates on a 6 minute cycle, so you can punch in as late at 6 after 11, and still look as if though you are on time! 
Well, a child of about 4 has just woken up for the day, and she is requires my attention, and I find I would very much so like to give her my attention, and go about heading to the zoo for the day! 
Oh, more about the cave man later, with the protruding brow. 

To be easily influenced...

I am a person who is easily influenced. I tend to think that I am not, but as I sit here and ponder the recent activities of my day, I have things to share. I find that I am most easily led to doubt my actions most often while driving.
To begin, I am a person who enjoys being helpful to my nearly blind grandmother and being her chauffeur running her around town to various appointments and locations. I myself am a person who runs myself around to various appointments and locations. I get very confused in keeping all these places and locations straight in my head. I also greatly lack directional skills.
Today, I was to bring my grandmother to her chiropractor appointment. I very confidently had the office location in my head, and as we left our first location for the day, I navigated my way through the neighborhood to the chiropractor appointment. My grandmother was even helpful in providing the details of a new route to take to our location. When I positively arrived at our intended destination, my grandmother squinted her eyes and looked at me, and asked why I had brought her the dentist office. I then immediately realized my error, and then quickly panicked as to how I was going to get from the dentist office to the chiropractor office. Where the hell was I located in proximity to the chiropractor office? I then set out on my way, now with no confindence, as my grandmother continued to squint her eyes to determine our whereabouts, being of no help in providing guidance.  She told me that the chriopracter office was down the road past Zane Street. As we approached Zane, she made a frantic motion with her arm that I needed to take a right on the street we were passing, which was Zane. I did a little jerk of the wheel, promptly cut someone off, without the use of my blinker, and took a right on Zane. I then expressed my confusion as to why I was turning on Zane, when I was suppose to have gone past it. My grandmother then said, "Oh yes, you need to turn around, and keep going down Brooklyn Blvd." So I made a right on the very next right, and then flipped a U'y in the parking lot to my left, and then went to make a left back on Zane to get back to the Brooklyn Blvd. As I am making the left, my grandmother tells me that I need to make a right (back onto Zane), in which I would then have been continuing on in the same wrong direction. (although I do recall a time my brother was in the car with me, and I was headed east down the road, and then felt I was going the wrong direction, and flipped a U'y in the parking lot, only to turn and continue going east again)
So we get back to Brooklyn Blvd, and my grandmother continues to think I have made a terrible error and yet I am recognizing the area as being very near to where we need to end our adventure. So now I am gaining confidence as my grandmother is losing hers. I then recognize the place we need to be while my grandmother makes two urgent requests for me to turn into office building parking lots prior to our destination, insisting that is it right there. Needless to say with a fair amount of frustrations on both our parts we arrived for her appointment with 15 minutes to spare.
And so this lengthy story got me thinking, to the times that a passenger is in my car and how easily they can be confused; I can be confident yet, I make sudden lefts, when I know it should be a right, and I cut off people, change lanes, and make a complete fool of myself when a passenger is in the car trying with confusion to aid me in my navigation to a location.
I have been driving down a one way before, and suddenly will take note that I am driving in the left lane, while everyone else for the past mile has been driving only in the right. I then panic and think "Oh no, this is a two way, not a one way, and I'm driving into oncoming traffic!" Then I look at the dotted white lines, and the street sign as I pass through the intersection, and realize that it simply a coincidence everyone is only driving in the right lane, and indeed I am on a one-way."
I have easily stopped behind a stopped car and patiently waited, only to realize that the light is green and that the driver in front of me has not realized this, and is in their own world as well, stopped at a green light. I have sat at stop signs as well waiting for the "green light."
I have to think very hard when I need to take a highway going either east or west; I quite often panic as I approach the first exit to go one direction, and I say over and over with great urgency, east or west, east or west, which one am I suppose to take?!? And this is when I am going to places I have been many times before. Never once have I orientated myself with accordance to the moon or the sun in the sky.
Many times after a particularly lengthy lost session through the city, I wish that I could watch my car on a satellite image as a little marked dot on the map, and my location marked with an arrow, and see just how terribly close or far I came to my location, and how I most likely kept taking turn after turn in the wrong direction, but somehow amazingly in the lengthiest way possible made it to where I needed to be. I think it could be a movie that people pay to watch and laugh hysterically at as they see the dot of where I am to be, and watch again as I approach an intersection, as I hesitate, (they start shouting at their TV, take a left, take a left) and they groan as I make a sudden jerk of my wheel and take a right! 
Yet I do so well navigating in very efficient manner around the grocery store, seldom needing to backtrack for an item, and never referring to the signs above the aisles. Hmmmm. 

A Letter About the Weather and Whether or Not

Dear Person Locked Away,

To you, I would like to write a letter every day, as I know all too well what it is like to be locked away, and held captive of only what your thoughts will allow, and of the people locked away with you, and to wait apprehensively for who might visit you during visiting hours. You were once a visitor of mine, as I was trapped inside my mind, and I only wish to repay the kind favor.

One always begins a letter writing about the weather, as the weather is an easy conversation to have. One always cares about the weather, as it affects us greatly. It gives shape to the clothes that hang in our closet that we select from each day of the year, to wear. It gives worry to moving day, should rain be in the forecast. It gives great joy to planned outdoor activities, should it be a compliment to what you have in store. It can greatly enhance an evening out under the stars, should it be a pleasant temperature, little wind, and clear skies. When people are talking about their days off; should the forecast call for inclement weather, they make statements about “It would be crappy weather on my days off,” and they celebrate; should it be fantastic weather. I tend to never care to look up the weather, and I remember many times at being surprised by it, but never the less it always is drifting in and out of my mind, as there is always some reaction as I step out into the elements. It can cause happiness and joy and a good time done better! It can create anger, as well as destruction to a day, to a life, to a home, to a city. Oh, the weather and it great effect!

The weather is warm here today, yet there is a heavy, cold dampness that clings to me as I walk through the parking garage. It could be entirely pleasant, given the warm weather, but instead, it reminds me of the winter that, although it barely came, has just given way to spring. And can we call it spring, given the quickly rising temperatures? The trees are still bare, and the grass is still smashed, brown in color, and dirty and littered.  My indoor plant has finally died, given the lack of outdoor sunshine time. Oh, what kind of summer are we in for? The radio shows wonder this out loud, as to just how hot will it get. Will we have several dozen days scattered through the summer of 100 degree plus days? I now question greatly our choice in moving into an apartment at the start of April that lacks an air conditioner. This is Minnesota after all; hot, humid summers, and I don’t own a boat, so my summers aren’t entirely spent to the maximum capacity of enjoying the moist air, and plethora of lakes. In addition, my choice of purchasing a car five years ago that has leather seats, and no tinted windows, only adds to great pains in the summertime. (This is also not helpful in the winter months). Why the hell do they sell cars with leather in such a state as this?

Well enough about the weather; shall we talk about whether?

I most often worry about the “whether or not” of all things. Currently I am stuck trying to make this decision as to whether or not I continue on with this blog, or decide to pack some more boxes, or to go to bed for the day. Earlier I had to decide whether or not I picked up breakfast from a fast place of options, or come home and eat the only food I have, oatmeal bread with peanut butter spread on top. I chose the peanut butter bread, and now wish I had stopped and gotten myself some pancakes, instead. A whether or not done wrong. I could continue on about the whether or not, but I find it to be not nearly as exciting as talking about the weather.

Does anybody who reads my blog wonder if I only do my very best to use as many words as possible in as twisted of way as possible to create the longest sentences, to create the most amount of confusion. Well I confess this is a small amount of my ulterior motive, but mostly my thoughts occur in my head just as I write them, and it makes every moment of my day an interesting contemplation.

Today, as I was passing by on Hennepin (pause) prior to the 8am hour (pause) on this fine Sunday morning in the downtown area, (pause)  I came to witness a model doing a photo shoot (pause) right there on Hennepin in the bike lane. It was a funny thing to witness (pause) as she was in a long flowing gown (pause) unique with its patterned yellow and black circles and swirls against white (pause) strutting up and down a dirty street (pause) which had yet to be tidied up from the marvelous St. Patrick’s Day celebration of yesterday. The sky was overcast (pause) and the scene of the photo shoot looked quite desolate (pause) as very little traffic roamed about at that early hour of the morning. She was giving her best walk (pause) and her sexiest daring looks to the little wind blown man that hid behind the camera. It was amusing never the less. Wow!, someone invent the comma already!

I am a prompt packer, and I have packed away the humidifier, without all it parts intact, and packed away the cd case, without paying attention to the cd’s still laying out and about. I should not tape things up so quickly. When I moved last time, I left the house with what I thought were all of my belongings, and with my great attention to cooking, didn’t realize until 2 weeks later, that I had left all my pots and pans in the drawer under the stove. And I didn’t even realize it, except for the new tenants of my old place called to ask if I was giving them my pots. I only wonder how long it would have actually taken me to realize I was without these all important kitchen necessities. Well necessities to other people. And why pots and pans? Which are the pots and which are the pans? Neither word seems to sum them up all that nicely. I think really; I know what a pot is, but is a skillet a pan? A cook such as myself ought to know. “Hand me that pan,” makes me want to giggle.

Well, I find the day to be entirely too short, the weather to be warm, cloudy, and great for sleeping. I have therefore decided that whether or not, the day would be a waste, should I not get something done, before I return to my bed for another day of dreams.

May your day be well read, without the greatest grammar, but with a fantastic amount of inquisitive thought. Until next time…

Of Wherabouts and Roundabouts

Wow. It’s been a while. Whereabouts have I been since I last wrote a blog. Well the people of which I spoke of in my last blog have departed the company of our company, and now are in the company of other companies and company. And mostly I feel this is a good thing because meeting new people always gives you good stories to tell, but mostly if only these new people come with an assortment of people who don’t have boundaries. I am a person without boundaries, and mostly I feel people say in their head, of those who hear me speak, think “Wow, did she really just share that?!?” but then they follow it up with that “in your head” smile you only smile when someone has shared something embarrassing, and then someone on a radio show will think, let’s ask the audience who has a great story to tell about someone who doesn’t have boundaries. And mostly people will call in and say they had a co-worker tell them about their hemorrhoids and how much they bleed and hurt, and there really won’t be any good stories. But come on people, turn on your TV’s. If I’m not doing it (not having boundaries), some actors are acting it out. Then again their getting paid and I’m not.

So one time I had this older guy named art who admired me. He would come into my fast place of work, and pretend to read a newspaper, all the while peeking over the top of his newspaper at me. Well, me, being a person who is of a great deal of interest, doesn’t generally notice when someone is noticing me. Co-workers would point out art admiring my details. Well I wasn’t very flattered, as this art, was kind of bland and lacked fine lines. Well one day art came up to the counter and dared to get my attention, and slid a folded up letter across the way to me. Well being full of secrets myself, I waited until the end of my shift to read this “letter.” I don’t remember too much of it, really only one thing in general; he was indicating he was in love with me, that he had a fireplace, and he would like me to be present sometime to sit in front of the fireplace with him on any given cold winter day, preferably with the snow falling gently down; (yet in a little bit of a hurry) to fill up the ground and overflow, and cause me to be snowed in with him. Picture perfect art. Well I was a young adult at this time, not quite right with the ways of the world and I once sat and talked to art after work, and he came to know of the vehicle I drove and he saw me drive by him one day (an unknown error on my part) and art followed me to my residence, and knocked on my door. Imagine my horror when a knock on the door was met with awful art being just on the other side. So I moved to another state. And now I only have art on my walls, but actually sitting on my floor, as I am too lazy to hang it up.

And just yesterday, the alignment of the planets must have been slightly off, because as I was leaving work, I came across someone backing up, a fair ways, on a one way street. But to continue, as I was driving down the highway, someone, who had to have been distracted, took a nice nosedive off of the exit ramp and was facing backwards into traffic at the bottom of the hill. And then just a little ways up, a patrol car was slowing creeping along behind a guy who was stumbling along the highway. His whereabouts seemed questionable and he was nowhere near any roundabouts of the sort that might indicate his confused state of mind. Needless to say I made it home without incident although I thought for certain all these were signs that my car and I were doomed for some terrible adventure of remodeling of some sort.

Small side note: I am a cautious optimistic, very cautious similar to the way one is cautious about lighting a candle in a place that smells like rotten eggs, and that has a gas burning stove, (on).

And I remember with great detail how I so loved the idea of the ecosystem when I was first introduced to it in Science class. The Science teacher told me that because of the ecosystem, all things; microorganisms, bugs of all sorts, rodents, lions, mountain goats, and the birds high in the sky all belonged together and completed one another. What a fantastic story! The story was complete with this wonderful illustration in the book that showed a beautiful forest picture with this roundabout circle coming out of the earth and around all the way up to the sky and back down to the ground, and decorated with pretty pictures of different creatures. The eagle at the top really did it for me. I try to tell myself this story each time I come across a spider in my place of residence. But most recently, in the last decade, I came across these horrible awful bugs called House centipedes. And much to my great dissatisfaction, when I tried to Google what this bug could possibly be, after my first encounter, (of it being in a glass in which I tried to drink water), I was most discouraged at this creatures general whereabouts, as they were calling it a HOUSE centipede. What part of the damn ecosystem does this creature have to do with? Ok so it eats bugs, but I can think of a few other more pleasant bugs which eat bugs. And now my house is part of the ecosystem?!? That wasn’t part of the illustration! To continue, I can think of about a 1,000 more creatures that the ecosystem would do just fine without.

Well to my faithful followers, (you know who you are; me not so much as no one leave comments) this is actually a blog which I find to be short on creative ideas; and…I find myself departing. I feel most certain there is still more positive to occur today. I am after all going to return once again to my bed for the 3^rd time this week, given that I consider the start of the week to be Saturday, and my bed is a wonderful place to find sleep at.