If you were dating a secretary would you get her something for secretary's day? She's not your secretary, you didn't make her a secretary, in fact, she brings work home all the time and makes you a part time secretary too. Then she expects some gift for secretary's day? That would be completely unreasonable.
sleep like a baby...
i never understood that. people say sleep like a baby when they are trying to describe a peaceful, restful sleep.
babies wake up and cry every couple hours. doesn't seem very restful to me. not to mention the whole having to eat, then burp, then throw up, then rest in your own excrement. i'd cry too. definitely not something i would consider in any way peaceful.
also, this is pretty cool:
the varied states of corn
i never really considered how being friend-zoned basically implies that (assuming the friendzoner is a lady, and the friendzonee is me) it is somehow the fault of the lady for not being into me, as opposed to being my fault for being into her.
as much as it always seems like "i just can't help the way i feel about you," why is it suddenly so bad a thing that she just can't help the way she doesn't feel about me, you know?
don't get me wrong, ladies, i'm still a pathetic romantic with more emotions than i know what to do with. but i'll try better to not hold it against you for not being interested in such a hot mess. not that i blame you in the slightest, and not that i don't feel awful in the rare event that i'm the friendzoner, but there still is some residual subconscious resentment and awkwardness there. and that is wrong.
the more things change, the more they stay the same
*greetings from michigan:
my first lengthy stay away from home has come to a close. i haven't touched any alcohol in two weeks. i still don't know what the hell i'm doing with my life. and i already miss tahoe.*
i'm beginning to remember why i really didn't miss having the internet that much.
i don't need to know about your stupid kid, or what you're having for dinner, or the 10 reasons you belong in house baratheon.
i really don't.
the only time i missed it is when there was some silly piece of trivial knowledge that i couldn't remember, or i had to file an important form, or needed to pay a bill.
that's basically it. maybe watch videos, or steal music from somewhere, since i'm online. download shit to make my laptop work when i invariably fuck it up and delete something i wasn't supposed to.
not spend hours poring through meaningless babble about shit that doesn't really matter, in the lives of people who i haven't seen in years, who are only trying to make themselves look as accomplished and successful and happy as they possibly can. apparently it's working, because what started as mild curiosity - purely for the hell of it - proceeded into nostalgia, and eventually progressed to the inevitable "what have i done with my life?!" there are also a few unfortunates thrown in that (i would assume, in the light of those apparent successes) have resorted to more of a cry for help or attention, because they are at least honest about how much life can suck sometimes, combined with buying into everyone else's bullshit.
the sad part is, it is so enticing still. sure, i don't NEED any of this stuff, but why not enjoy some diversions, right? i'll read the entirety of that blog, just because i can. i guess it was marginally entertaining. enriching my life? no. i suppose, if nothing else, it kept me occupied for three hours. and that's something. maybe. i don't know. depends on what your time is worth. and what you choose to spend it on.
time to be more discerning about what it's spent on, rather than finding ways to burn it.
What if we just swam around in warm water all day every day?
For instance, on the planet Earth, man had always assumed that he was more intelligent than dolphins because he had achieved so much - the wheel, New York, wars and so on - whilst all the dolphins had ever done was muck about in the water having a good time. But conversely, the dolphins had always believed that they were far more intelligent than man - for precisely the same reasons.
Cancer update: Still sucks. Dont get it.
Mortality is an odd concept. When faced with someone you love keeling over it looms large in your mind. It changes alot of how you feel about your own life.
When the protagonist of that story rolls off her death bed and decides to keep living its really a bit jarring. I'm not complaining, its wonderful, but to a certain extent I was very ready to deal with Gloria's death. A lot of mental turmoil goes into preparing for that. For the time being, though, I can continue pretending everyone will continue living forever.
I just realized something while I was typing this. Now I know which of my parents I get my procrastination streak from.
I feel like a 16 year old girl again. Not the best time in my life...
The same man keeps breaking my heart time and time again.
I canít help but always be there for him. I am unable to separate myself from him.
And itís fucking killing me.
I broke up with my past 3 boyfriends. It just wasnít right. I know this.
But how am I supposed to move on when I gave my whole heart to someone else?
Thatís not fair to the men I am dating. And I know that.
What I donít know is how to make these feelings stop.
After a year and a half of not being with you, you come back into my life and itís like Iím unable to function. Paralyzed by your presence.
What the hell is my problem.
Why canít I just leave you and be on my merry way?
I have to do something but am completely at a stand-still.
I would rather have you in my life than not. Even if itís just as friends. Because after all, you are my greatest friend.
Things I do that don't make any damn sense (to be added to later)
I drive from Northland and 14 mile to Northland and 12 mile almost every weekday. Every time I come close to the Northland and 13 mile intersection I get afraid that the right lane is going to become a right turn only lane and I move to the left lane. The right lane does not become a right turn only lane.
Whenever I see an Art Van truck, I check to see if Big Dave is inside of it. It's been at least 3 years since Dave worked for Artvan, and over a year since I've talked to Big Dave, but I still always check to see if he's sitting in the passenger seat when I see an Art Van truck.
2013 15 September :: 8.47pm
:: Music: Man on Fire-Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros
PhDing and teaching. It involves lots of reading. And grading. Eventually, there will be writing. This year marks my 4th academic publication, and 2014 will hold conference presentations 7-9 at major conferences.
I really hope there will be some semblance of a good job at the end of all of this.
1 bag of frozen tater tots
1/2 onion diced
3 cloves minced garlic
1 can large black olives, pitted, strained, and diced
2 tbsp. basil pesto
cayenne pepper to taste
1 fuckload (but not too much) butter
lightly saute everything but the tots. veggies should not be completely cooked, just softened.
toss sauteed mixture with frozen tots in large mixing bowl.
evenly distribute in a casserole dish (metal works better than glass). cover with tin foil.
bake for 30 mins at 425. uncover. bake an additional 15 mins (or until desired crustification is achieved)
don't burn your mouth, and devour indiscriminately.
welp. we're here. i was pretty excited on the drive out. there was some drama the night we were supposed to get here, which delayed our arrival until yesterday, so we spent the night in reno. it also put me in a less pleasant space than what i probably should be in. but, it was worked out (ish), so i just need to get over it.
then this morning, mom called to tell me that uncle pete died. i wasn't nearly as close to him as bruce was, but it's still a shock. yet another reminder that none of us are here forever, and something rather opposite a boon to my emotional state. there's still so much in the air. i can't stop trying, that will be the end of it. so i will keep trying. because i have to. but it just doesn't have that thrill of adventure that i was hoping for. it's just a constant oscillation between being awestruck by the fact that i'm here (and here is absolutely amazing, by the way), and mortified that i've made a terrible, terrible mistake.
so, it's great that i'm alone and i'm here and it's super neat. and it's awful at the same time.
i don't know. just keep trucking. that's the main thing.
2013 26 April :: 12.21am
:: Mood: the usual
:: Music: David Bowie - The Next Day
Auschwitz, this one's for you
i don't even know if you bother to read this shit.
hell, i don't even know you bother to do this shit. so, i obviously am not reading yours. so, no. odds are good you won't be reading this.
but, nonetheless, this comic made me think of you. and i hope it helps. i'm somewhat afraid to encroach upon some of the touchy, weight-related subjects. but this seemed important.
WE have body issues. societal cultures and norms and gender constructs, in addition to inferiority complexes and mental and physical shortcomings and inabilities. but we are all people. and people need to get better at being a society that thrives on support of one another as opposed to condemnation of those that are, well, not us.
(my post about modern medicine and society's struggle with death is closely related, but for a later time.)
It was a 4/20 miracle!
So last night on the way home from a party in saranac with my girlfriend, Stacey, I ran out of gas. We were about 2 miles from a gas station, but it was 1 at night and we were in the middle of nowhere (the wrong side of 12 mile and lincoln lake road) so we started walking. I expect Stacey to complain because it is all my fault but she's a fucking trooper and never said a negative word. Anyway, we get maybe a half mile down the road, with me holding out my gas can for everyone who passed us to see, before we see brake lights. Our savior was in a red truck, and his name was Mike. Before we get another half mile, Mike asks if we smoke. We say hell yes, and he passes us a bowl. Stacey starts talking about how lame the party we came from was (we basically all sat around calling people trying to get dope all night) and the guy gives us a little bag with about a gram in it. He gets us to the gas station and back, and our night was a million times better.
the even bigger issue is that you could rack up a $70 tab, after getting a discount, and each person can still only tip 67 cents? c'mon, people. the minimum total tip on that should be at least $10.50, regardless of how awful your experience was. and i suppose that was the joke, them only leaving a $2 tip ... but still, i just get so mad at people who make math harder than it is.