devoted

Where does devotion come from? Sometimes, it is truly altruistic…though even as I write this those words ring hollow. Do you ever do anything without getting something in return? Even when that something is the self-satisfaction of helping someone in need; or the deeper darker self-satisfaction of martyrdom in the face of impossible odds.

As of late, I’ve been devoted to my sweet sweet mistress, Gainful Employment. Even now, at 11PM, I’m sitting at my desk at hour 14 in counting. Hardly a drop in the bucket to the day after day that have looked just like this prior. I’m reflecting on the canceled vacations, late nights on the weekend clicking on the keys of a company-sponsored laptop, my fingers glued to my iPhone and responding to emails even as I’m driving home.

What am I getting out of it? War stories, weeks turning to months of unused vacation, people who deserve my attention growing bored while waiting for it.

It ain’t for the money, that’s for sure.

I sure hope I look back on this time with a smile and not a grimace. Gainful Employment, ye be a harsh mistress…

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proof is in the pudding

blond ambition
Now c’mon, that’s pretty blond for brown hair, no?

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how blond is your vanity?

An anonymous commenter asked me if I used to be a redhead (based on the pic below). This, coincidentally, is something I was thinking a lot about while visiting my parents over Christmas, and we discussed in great and bewildering detail.

I did not used to have red hair. I did, however, use to have blond hair. In fact, the bulk of my arm hair still turns blond during the summer…maybe this is common for everyone, but I like to think it makes me special. The thing I don’t understand, though, is that my birth certificate says Hair: Brown.

I was pretty obviously blond for the first few years of my life (as to be proven with photographic evidence, later). How did they know I would end up brunette? Did they even care or notice? Did they make the Brown determination based on the not inconsiderable amount of placenta I probably had plastered all over me?

Did anyone else just throw-up a little in their mouth?

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by way of aplogy:

You’re welcome…

Then and Now

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It’s like facebook has replaced floorpie. Tragedy!

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lukewarm milk

Why is it that, in movies, when one of the characters is eating cereal for breakfast, there is always milk on the table? Be it either a half-filled gallon, a quart carton, or some kind of glass carafe, it’s always there.

Who does this?
Do you?
I don’t.

Why would you ever just leave milk on the table to sit there and get warm? That’s like making pancakes and leaving a box of Bisquick next to you, isn’t it? Or are there re-fillers out there?

Weirdos.

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be sure to take your vitamins

Parents have things they say. This may have been obvious to you. Parents have things they say like mantras, and they end every conversation. “I love you” is one, though now that I write this I realize that that’s not something my parents actually say very often. They (we) say “Lovingly” right before hanging up the phone, or walking out the door. And we say it like it’s at least two words: “Love-ing Lee!” And as I was growing up, I actually thought that it two words and that it was a phrase that I just didn’t understand, yet…which is true, as I apparently didn’t know that “Love” had an adjective form at the time.

For some reason, I never questioned it.

It honestly wasn’t until my early 20’s when my mom and dad said it to me in the usual singsong voice we use when I had a vision of a handwritten not seen from the perspective of the writer, her quill pen just scribing the salutation…”Lovingly,” and I then realized what I had been saying for 20-odd years.

I still hear “Love-ing Lee”, though. And in my head I don’t think of “Lee” as a person, but instead the lee of a rocky outcropping, a safe haven in a storm.

No, I don’t know what is the matter with me either.

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Happy Thanksgiving

You know, the thing that sucks about being alone on the holidays is…oh wait.

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I’m cheap, but you still have to buy me dinner

The one good thing to come of out the current economic crisis…other than the obvious of low low prices on brand name items… is that I paid a little over $30 for a tank of gas yesterday. Which is $20-$30 less than I paid over the summer. Think of all the drugs I can buy with that money! Finally I can trade-up to sweet sweet cocaine instead of that dirty crack!

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i just want to bang on me drum all day

I think a lot.
Too much.

I need a lot of input to keep me occupied, which is odd as I also have astounding bouts of laziness.
Or at least what I consider laziness.

I listen to multiple conversations in a restaurant at the same time. Not because I eavesdrop, but because I just do. It’s as if my brain has some extra space sitting by and it takes up the task on it’s own. The people I’m with at the time, especially if they’re, say, a woman I’m on a date with, probably find it rude when I answer a question they didn’t ask but that the person at the next table did. Even so, they can’t complain that I’m distracted, because I never am, I’m listening to them, too.

Sometimes, when I watch TV, I also am listening to my iPod in one ear… and reading a book. To be honest, I’m not sure how terribly effective this is as I’m probably retaining none of it…there was a time during my freshman year in college when I was sitting in my dorm room on the back of my desk chair studying, while I also had my stereo blasting in the background. Given the year, it was probably some kind of guitar virtuoso like Joe Satriani or Steve Vai (two coolest last names, linked with two boring first names, by the way). My door was open, as was the style of the time, and one of my floor-mates was walking by on the way to who the hell cares where. He was a particularly dorky kid (not that I was giving James Dean anything to worry about) who liked to be called Tiger.

Which is really annoying. If there are any rules to nicknames, and there are, the first and most important one is: you do not give yourself a nickname. Which is why I made a point of calling “Tiger”, Brian and “Morg”, Chris…loudly and clearly, which is no small feat for a chronic mumbler.

At any rate, Brian was walking by my room when he glanced in, saw me perched on my chair staring at a Physics book with the strains of Surfing With The Alien rattling the windows. “You’re studying!” he exclaimed. I gave him a bemused look. This kid really annoyed the hell out of me. “AND you’re playing music!” he squeaked. My bemused look turned to confusion, and I mouthed a drawn-out and questioning, “Okaaaaaay?” to him. His eyes dropped and he muttered while turning away, “That is so cool!”, mentally adding that to his list of things to emulate later to up the cool-factor of his Tiger persona.

I’m fairly sure he wasn’t making fun of me and was actually sincere… he just wasn’t the asshole-type (like me). I remember thinking how odd his observation was, because this kind of brain-filling (or multi-tasking) is something I’ve always done.

But back to the effectiveness of it, judging by my freshman year grades, I probably should have spent more time quietly in the library, and less time bobbing my head to Eric Johnson while trying to understand differential equations. But perhaps there were…other…distractions when it comes to that.

I’m a multi-tasker at work, too…though Science will tell you that multi-tasking is actually strictly impossible. Instead it’s some kind of crazy rapid switching back and forth. At any rate, I’ll work on something for 10 minutes here, then switch to something else, then back, then to another thing and on and on, all day long. It works for me, somehow. In some ways, I feel like my brain is working on how to do something while I’m not actively thinking about, and then I get back to it when I’m ready.

What is my point?

My point is that despite this being the way that I do things, I feel like I need a break. I just want to sit in silence for a bit and not get antsy, or have my mind start racing, or feel like I’m wasting my time.

I need to learn how to meditate.

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