Rain 1

It has been raining all day. At 8:30pm we heard shots coming from the back of the yard. We looked at each other, squinched up our faces, and began looking around. The dog ran to stand on the couch, and bark out the window.

"It sounds like a B-B gun, but what animal would be out in all this rain?"

Husband got up to look out the sliding glass door, I knelt next to the dog to peer out the window.

I noisily sucked in air and breathed out, "It's the blue tarp neighbor! Look, I see his flashlight on the roof!"

"Oh yeah, he's using a slap-hammer. That's not good, think about it, he's putting more holes in the roof."

"Maybe he's gone through all his other options."

We stared knowingly at each other, each nodding in grim remembrance, thankful that those days are past.

"Remember how bad that was?"

"Yeah, I remember. Poor blue tarp man."

Sunday

Admittedly, the past couple of years, Sundays have been getting better. Traditionally Sunday is my day of self-loathing and pity parties with some anxiety attacks to spice it up.

The trick that did it for me has been touching base with family. Who knew that keeping in contact with the supposed beginnings of my miserable existence would be the panacea to hate-to-be-me Sundays. I write my Dad in jail. His being there has forced me to sit down and write a letter out, it's really nice. Also I try to touch base with my younger cousin or email my baby brother. (Since Facebook is not my thing, it is totally in my court to keep up.) A phone call to an aunt or uncle. People I am extraordinarily fortunate to have in my life, and they have to talk to me, we're related.

In addition to the above, I do laundry. Starting the week with all clean clothes helps things, plus it keeps me busy, plus I don't have to feel that I leave EVERY house-hold chore to the husband, plus I can read a book or watch TV in-between loads but still feel like I'm a productive person.

Don't forget Miss Appalled, if you do, come back and re-read.

Things may not be so bad, or maybe they are

The deplorable work conditions have motivated me to scrutinize my 401k asset allocations and to start (start is a subjective word here) working out. Working out requires further explanation as it is not a logical next step. But my future work endeavors may require physical labor, because my brain has had it.

Anyways I don't know why I get all paranoid about being completely iced out at work. I'm confident I could always find SOMETHING to pay the bills. And I'm not above just about any job. Changing jobs or not working for a while always invigorates me, and thus makes me fresh and impressive to new employers, until they find out I can't stand working. Or, who knows, perhaps I could stumble upon a job I actually like and can stick with for some years. See, this is looking better and better, why do I get so grumpy?

Though getting in better shape is definitely some good insurance...

Apalled at...2

Highway noise

Apalled At....

Big box stores.....Especially WAL-MART
Excessive product packaging
Health insurance
Forcing numerous children, all within one year of age from one another, to spend the whole day together
How little people expect to pay for services rendered by other people

Lacks Social Skills/Organization/ Optimism, Otherwise Good Student

Work has been horrific, truly, horrific. And I don't know what I'm gonna do about it. Keep going in each morning is the only thing I can think. And horrific just in my own little brain, I mean, there's nothing particularly newsworthy going on or anything. But I continue to feel like a freak lone-wolf with completely inadequate social skills and borderline satisfactory work ethics. If I could get away with doing nothing all day and knew nobody would find out, you bet I would do just that. I don't have any quick ideas however, like I said, I'm going to just keep showing up every day and see what happens.

This has been going on for many many years now. I give myself credit, I have moved around and tried new things. I have not sat at the same job for years and years and not done anything about it. The sad thing is, is wherever I go there I am, and that just keeps happening over and over. So where can I go where I'm not there?! The future. Somewhere into the future I'm going to find a place to go where I ain't, and I can't wait to get there.

At the beginning of 2010 I signed up to read 100 books in a year. It was a link on somebody's blog. The year is more than half over and I have read 11. Eleven books, out of 100. The exercise did bring to my attention that I like to read parts of books and then put them down for awhile. Furthermore I read poetry and Buddhist books, but I don't read them cover to cover nor from front to back. I skip around and sometimes re-read sections over and over before moving on. A book not completed cannot be added to the list.

So what about people who do read 100 books in a year. What is going on with them? Do they remember the books, do they skim through them hurdling beyond their mental speed limit? Do they pick easier, thinner books so they can quickly add it to the list? And because of this are they avoiding books like, Anna Karenina and The Brothers Karamazov? This line of thought leads to, what good is it to read 100 books in a year?

Maybe they want to add their name to an impressive looking list on the Internet with a link to their blog. Maybe it is desperateness for attention and to be a part of a group;

I mean, hey, that's totally my reason.

But now I have a list on my blog of the books I have read, and it will be interesting to note what year it is when I hit the 100 mark. Let me put it out there now, July 2014 is my prediction.

Finally I Remembered

I like to stare at stuff. As far as I know this activity does not afford me any special insight. The staring generally occurs after profound productivity demands are put upon me. Often at lunch-time I must leave the confines of the office and venture out alone to stare at some things. Generally the objects of my meditation may include whatever vegetation is available, rocks, people if I’m in an airport or DC, birds are a readily available subject, squirrels and clouds work too. Sometimes just a shadow will do.

Stare at the colors, shape and movement; wonder at the personality and feelings of the other. The allure is the high at seeing objects in the moment, objects that grow and move and have not always been where they are now, and may not be there long. When I leave the solitude and go back to work I keep with me the knowledge that the clouds still move, shadows will morph, rocks may get caught in rain storms, flowers will bloom, fade, and drop seed, -never mind that I am not a witness. The objects I have studied will continue to exist, no matter the grief, regret or angst that awaits me that afternoon.