Diwali started yesterday. I got a care package filled with New Year's treats. You could see the grease bleeding through the FedEx box. I know it sounds gross, but it's ghee not oil... and it's oh so delicious.
Perhaps it is another form of homesickness, or the realization that for all practical purposes I am now my own man, but I now, more than ever, long for the sense of family I left back in Texas. None of this is really actionable. Strangers are still strangers, and I still have my family. But this is different. It's bigger than finding someone. It's bigger than changing geographies. It's about duty.
Which brings me to the story of Lakshman. He was my favorite character from the Hindu epics as a child. He was quiet, resolute, and so loyal to his brother that he would not allow Ram to go into exile alone. One could call it irony, but there is no comedy in Lakshman's desire to be "a pillar" to a man, an avatar really, who had no real need for the strength of others. That, my friends, is devotion.
I'll admit that it has been a decade since I've read any scripture or attended a Sunday service, so I'm reading analysis on Lakshman at various websites. I find it funny that almost every description characterizes Lakshman's feelings toward Ram as one of love. The comedy lies in that having grown up in an Indian household, I didn't grow up giving hugs or telling my folks I loved them. Shit... people fall out of love. They love things. Hell, they love things more than they love people. They love feelings and they love themselves. How I feel is stronger than that, and calling it love feels like it cheapens it.
I'm not sure if there's a word to describe the intersection of love and duty, or if language even has the capacity to convey the meaning of something that can only been seen through action and over a sufficiently long time-frame. But I do miss feeling this on a daily basis. I miss not feeling like I have to prove it through words or arbitrary gestures. But I digress.
This is what I've always admired about Lakshman. And in this new year, and all the contemplation and celebration that comes with it, I feel a renewed sense of duty.
Happy Diwali!
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Sunday, November 4, 2007
A Skin Too Few
I can't remember exactly when I first discovered Nick Drake, although I remember the moment itself with startling clarity (does this happen to you?). I was sitting in an uncomfortably packed bedroom with some friends listening to music when out of nowhere came this sound I'd never heard before... guitar playing so clear, intricate, and fast that it sounds messy and a voice so heavy, so melancholy that you can't bear to resist, nay willingly, hand over your hope.
Anyway... apparently they filmed a documentary in 2000 on the life and family of Nick Drake. A few things about his life really stuck with me.
His mother used to write songs of her own. Based on the old tape recording his sister plays, you can hear the influence on his melodies... they're eerily similar.
Nick was all about impact and influence. The interviews with his friends, family, and studio reps shed some light on his depression. It was pretty widely known among those with whom he kept close company that the man was brilliant and full of natural talent. Yet, it was the ability to touch wide audiences with his music that he sought. I guess this is pretty typical among musicians, but it felt a lot more geniune and like a much greater struggle coming out of Nick Drake than it does coming out of Yellowcard or JLo. I'm just sayin', I spent a long period of of my life valuing brilliance over influence, and if I had just one to share with the world, I wouldn't be saddenned by my lacking the other. But what do I know? I guess my point is that it's ironic and a bit surpising to hear that a lack wide spread influnce is what drove such a talented person to clinical depression and ultimately over the edge.
The last thing, and one of the last scenes in the film, is the recitation by Nick's sister of a poem his mother wrote about him after his death. It's titled The Shell
Do you see?
I think it's available on youtube. It's titled A Skin Too Few.
Anyway... apparently they filmed a documentary in 2000 on the life and family of Nick Drake. A few things about his life really stuck with me.
His mother used to write songs of her own. Based on the old tape recording his sister plays, you can hear the influence on his melodies... they're eerily similar.
Nick was all about impact and influence. The interviews with his friends, family, and studio reps shed some light on his depression. It was pretty widely known among those with whom he kept close company that the man was brilliant and full of natural talent. Yet, it was the ability to touch wide audiences with his music that he sought. I guess this is pretty typical among musicians, but it felt a lot more geniune and like a much greater struggle coming out of Nick Drake than it does coming out of Yellowcard or JLo. I'm just sayin', I spent a long period of of my life valuing brilliance over influence, and if I had just one to share with the world, I wouldn't be saddenned by my lacking the other. But what do I know? I guess my point is that it's ironic and a bit surpising to hear that a lack wide spread influnce is what drove such a talented person to clinical depression and ultimately over the edge.
The last thing, and one of the last scenes in the film, is the recitation by Nick's sister of a poem his mother wrote about him after his death. It's titled The Shell
The Shell
Living grows round us, like a skin, to shut away the outer desolation.
For if we clearly mark the outer deep,we should we be dead long years before the grave.
But turning around in the homely shell of worry, discontent, and narrow joy,
We glow and flourish, and rarely see the outside dark that would confound our eyes.
Some break the shell.
I think that there are those who push their fingers through the brittle walls and make a hole.
And through this cruel slit, stare out across the cinders of the world with naked eyes.
They look both out and in, knowing themselves and too much else beside.
Do you see?
I think it's available on youtube. It's titled A Skin Too Few.
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Halloween '07
Halloween was pretty badass this year. Costumes are always fun, but coordinated/themed costumes are awesome. I went as the Tin Man, along with Dorothy and The Scarecrow. We found a Lion at the house party to which we went (fking Churchill criticizing my grammar from the afterlife). Mario & Luigi, Link & Zelda, Priest & Altar Boy, Itachi (custom contacts and all) & Sasuke, and The Ghostbusters were all in attendance. Despite being a house party, it wasn’t over crowded or too hot, and I got just wasted enough.
I guess that’s really all I have to say about that.
Today there were tons and tons of children, surprisingly mostly under the age of 6, around the office (with their parents of course). There were miniature ninjas, frogs, lions, dinosaurs, tigers, raccoons, and pumpkins all over the place. I left the candy in a chair outside the office and put on the headphones so I could get things done, but headphones couldn’t stop them. For example, I was interrupted by Superman wandering into my office and shoving me until he got my attention. Later, some high school kids were just flying through the halls collecting candy in their pillowcases. All of these shenanigans were set right by my very last visitors. By this point in the evening, almost everyone had cleared out of the building. A mother, an auntie really, stopped by with her two daughters. I can’t remember what the older one was dressed as, but she wasn’t collecting candy, she was collecting change for UNICEF. Badass. The younger one couldn’t have been older than two. She was dressed as a pumpkin, and insisted on trading a hand-melted MilkyWay (packing completely intact) for the last bag of M&M’s. She whined and pouted until the trade was complete. I was moved.
I had to work till 11 to finish everything I was supposed to finish during the day. I was not so moved.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Today
Today I:
-used a battery replacement kit to replace the battery in my iPod only to find that it really is my harddrive. shucks. the good news is that with all the new generations that have come out since '04, the kit only cost $10 shipped. 4G iPod battery anyone (it's really only the size of your current battery that matters, almost all iPods use the same voltage)?
-attended the second day of a leadership retreat/classroom training. I wouldn't say I'm naturally contentious, though I probably reached a gigantor peak sometime around 17 and a new low last December, but I found a classroom setting really brings it out. Note to self: don't be a bastard.
-i read some book on group dynamics and role-playing and hats. I would just call it dumb, except that was some value in reading about different angles of contribution to a group effort. The 14-point font didn't hurt either.
-reached new heights of pain on the stationary cycle. Luckily, Jack McCoy and Serena Southerlyn were there to lend ferocity and inspiration, respectively.
-spent waaaay too long watching The Boondocks. That show is so badass.
-caused the collapse of a happy hour to do some work i probably should've done earlier. It'll be fine irregardlessly, but if this doesn't come out brilliant, I'm going to feel like an arse.
-finally put The King of Swing on CD. Why has this taken so long? Will it have the same calming effect in traffic? How will I resist the urge to pretend foxtrot?
-spent yet another hour scouring House of Leaves for a morsel of coherent, intentional meaning. I only found more insanity. I guess there was no surprise here.
And tomorrow?
Son of a bitch...
-used a battery replacement kit to replace the battery in my iPod only to find that it really is my harddrive. shucks. the good news is that with all the new generations that have come out since '04, the kit only cost $10 shipped. 4G iPod battery anyone (it's really only the size of your current battery that matters, almost all iPods use the same voltage)?
-attended the second day of a leadership retreat/classroom training. I wouldn't say I'm naturally contentious, though I probably reached a gigantor peak sometime around 17 and a new low last December, but I found a classroom setting really brings it out. Note to self: don't be a bastard.
-i read some book on group dynamics and role-playing and hats. I would just call it dumb, except that was some value in reading about different angles of contribution to a group effort. The 14-point font didn't hurt either.
-reached new heights of pain on the stationary cycle. Luckily, Jack McCoy and Serena Southerlyn were there to lend ferocity and inspiration, respectively.
-spent waaaay too long watching The Boondocks. That show is so badass.
-caused the collapse of a happy hour to do some work i probably should've done earlier. It'll be fine irregardlessly, but if this doesn't come out brilliant, I'm going to feel like an arse.
-finally put The King of Swing on CD. Why has this taken so long? Will it have the same calming effect in traffic? How will I resist the urge to pretend foxtrot?
-spent yet another hour scouring House of Leaves for a morsel of coherent, intentional meaning. I only found more insanity. I guess there was no surprise here.
And tomorrow?
Son of a bitch...
Tuesday, August 7, 2007
Retreat
I had a pretty lackluster weekend. I didn't do anything exciting or make much progress on anything important (other than watching The Rock twice in two days). I made up for it these past two days.
My class of analysts and I went on retreat. It kicked off with a lecture about personality types. I missed out on taking a test to figure out which one I am (16 combinations), but was able to make it entertaining anyway. We were broken into teams to play a game. Immediately, I knew we had to win. It was a fairly stupid game, though it illustrated its point, that pulled the rug out from beneath the team (ours) that laid down a 20+ point margin of victory by applying different meanings to synonyms. We should've known. In any case, trash was talked, jokes were made, rhetoric was spewed, and lessons were learned. And when it was all said and done, we had been in a room together long enough that we were all in a good mood about leaving to do more exciting things. We proceeded to drive a few hours and set up at two cabins someplace incredibly close to Mt. Baker. Through the combined efforts of KJ and myself, everyone agreed to refer to our 15-passenger van as Prancer Goodspeed. We spent the night, and early morning, grilling, laughing, and playing games, and got up with just enough time to make the 12pm checkout deadline.
The rafting trip was down the Nooksack river... so many jokes. It was a class 2.5, but very front-loaded. After the first half hour, things calmed down and I spent the rest of the ride trying to splash other rafts and looking for bald eagles. You'd think that after a lifetime of living in the states, these birds wouldn't arouse any kind of excitment. Think again. First, they're gigantic. Second, they manouver suprisingly well through the air. They're beautiful birds.
The ride home was surprisingly quick. By this time, almost all formalities had been thrown out the window. We all swore and gestured at drivers who drove too slowly, and Andrew's aggressive driving and Prancer's daunting stature helped scare drivers out of our lane. We made incredible time.
This morning an obituary went out to our listserve:
PRANCER GOODSPEED.
Returned 8/7/07.
Leaves behind family of 16, gray interior, and ability to switch 4 lanes at one time.
Message from the late before its passing: “Beep.”
Good times.
My class of analysts and I went on retreat. It kicked off with a lecture about personality types. I missed out on taking a test to figure out which one I am (16 combinations), but was able to make it entertaining anyway. We were broken into teams to play a game. Immediately, I knew we had to win. It was a fairly stupid game, though it illustrated its point, that pulled the rug out from beneath the team (ours) that laid down a 20+ point margin of victory by applying different meanings to synonyms. We should've known. In any case, trash was talked, jokes were made, rhetoric was spewed, and lessons were learned. And when it was all said and done, we had been in a room together long enough that we were all in a good mood about leaving to do more exciting things. We proceeded to drive a few hours and set up at two cabins someplace incredibly close to Mt. Baker. Through the combined efforts of KJ and myself, everyone agreed to refer to our 15-passenger van as Prancer Goodspeed. We spent the night, and early morning, grilling, laughing, and playing games, and got up with just enough time to make the 12pm checkout deadline.
The rafting trip was down the Nooksack river... so many jokes. It was a class 2.5, but very front-loaded. After the first half hour, things calmed down and I spent the rest of the ride trying to splash other rafts and looking for bald eagles. You'd think that after a lifetime of living in the states, these birds wouldn't arouse any kind of excitment. Think again. First, they're gigantic. Second, they manouver suprisingly well through the air. They're beautiful birds.
The ride home was surprisingly quick. By this time, almost all formalities had been thrown out the window. We all swore and gestured at drivers who drove too slowly, and Andrew's aggressive driving and Prancer's daunting stature helped scare drivers out of our lane. We made incredible time.
This morning an obituary went out to our listserve:
PRANCER GOODSPEED.
Returned 8/7/07.
Leaves behind family of 16, gray interior, and ability to switch 4 lanes at one time.
Message from the late before its passing: “Beep.”
Good times.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Turning 24
Two weekends ago I was in San Fran, seeing friends so very dear to me. I spent last weekend in Vancouver debauching. Yesterday I got reviewed on my performance on the last 6 months of my work.
If there is one thing that is abundantly clear after this first year out of school , it's that you must take charge of life lest you become subject to it. I guess this is something I've practiced most of my life without really understanding its consequence. I'm not sure when in school I lost sight of this truth, but something has made damn sure I am aware of it now.
Yes, it has now appeared twice as the theme in television shows I watch regularly. And yes, travelling does not necessarily equate to taking action or directing you life, but these are really the only hard facts I have to corroborate a renewed, old perspective. It really has come to frame everything again.
I've mentioned/alluded to my fears surrounding my loss of passion before. The idea in its extreme forms still terrifies me. But it's not how I feel now. Time will continue to pass. The challenge is to not fight it, but to accept it. To bestow just the right amount of importance upon it. To embrace one's humanity. To be cognizant of consequence. To mind the long-term while living for the short-term. To feel empowered.
I feel good. I feel great.
If there is one thing that is abundantly clear after this first year out of school , it's that you must take charge of life lest you become subject to it. I guess this is something I've practiced most of my life without really understanding its consequence. I'm not sure when in school I lost sight of this truth, but something has made damn sure I am aware of it now.
Yes, it has now appeared twice as the theme in television shows I watch regularly. And yes, travelling does not necessarily equate to taking action or directing you life, but these are really the only hard facts I have to corroborate a renewed, old perspective. It really has come to frame everything again.
I've mentioned/alluded to my fears surrounding my loss of passion before. The idea in its extreme forms still terrifies me. But it's not how I feel now. Time will continue to pass. The challenge is to not fight it, but to accept it. To bestow just the right amount of importance upon it. To embrace one's humanity. To be cognizant of consequence. To mind the long-term while living for the short-term. To feel empowered.
I feel good. I feel great.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Swimmin
I've wanted to start swimming for a while now. The last time I swam with any consistency was during the first two weeks of my semester abroad. I'm currently using leg fins cause I suck at swimming, but I hope to get rid of 'em in a month of so. Oh right, I started swimming yesterday. I decided to buy my gear at REI. Bad call. I think the hardest part of this is a horrible, heavy feeling I'm left with throughout the day. That'd better go away too. My body weary.
On a separate note, I don't know what to do with myself during the weekends.
On a separate note, I don't know what to do with myself during the weekends.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Get back to work
Tomorrow afternoon I leave for Redmond again. I really don't want to go. No, I mean I really don't want to go back. I can already feel the tension throughout my heartstrings.
I've been listening to "Big Country" by Bela Fleck and Flecktones. It's the theme song to this past week in the soundtrack of my life.
I've been listening to "Big Country" by Bela Fleck and Flecktones. It's the theme song to this past week in the soundtrack of my life.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Coming Home
I took this week off of work to come home and see my family and friends. I haven't lived in this house very much, but it's been long enough to have undergone significant life events.
Coming back to the exact same place with the exact same feel is about par for the course. The fact that home never changes is what makes it such a fantastic place to come back to. This is a thought that crosses my mind each time I come home, but last night a new one joined it. The people you grow up with never change either. They often surprise you with the their talent, dedication, or humanity, but they are fundamentally the same people you've always known. This is both endearing and frustrating depending on the moment. Earlier in the week I found the realization demoralizing, but last night it was my gateway to feeling like I was 18 again.
Almost everyone you talk to will tell you that college is one of the best times of your life. I had a mixed experience. I think it was a time of incredible personal growth, but it was littered with harrowing experiences. My life, in the all-encompassing sense of the word, in the dorms was incredibly different from my life thereafter. I was single again when I began my 3rd year. I was at the beginning of some family business that wouldn't find resolution for years, I was coming to the realization that I had lost my passion for everything, and I had developed a bad case of wanderlust. The world around me changed very quickly and boyhood/teenage Anand found himself unfit to go on. Up until that point desire had always yielded to reason, and curiosity kept everyday exciting. It's strange that "maturation" brought on poorer habits and the loss of perspective, but to the best of my recollection, this is how it went down.
Years later, this too has passed.
I guess this brings me to the point. Though we were just sitting around playing Wii, listening to music, and thumbing through photographs, last night was an eye openning look at all that's transpired since I met my friends. I was able to follow the story from beginning to end with a new perspective, while from moment to moment remembering who I was and how it felt to be me when I was 18. In the broad, over-arching sense, not much has really changed since then. Sure we've all grown up, gotten jobs, and done or achieved things we could've never predicted, but we're all more of less the same people. I like this. I really do.
Coming back to the exact same place with the exact same feel is about par for the course. The fact that home never changes is what makes it such a fantastic place to come back to. This is a thought that crosses my mind each time I come home, but last night a new one joined it. The people you grow up with never change either. They often surprise you with the their talent, dedication, or humanity, but they are fundamentally the same people you've always known. This is both endearing and frustrating depending on the moment. Earlier in the week I found the realization demoralizing, but last night it was my gateway to feeling like I was 18 again.
Almost everyone you talk to will tell you that college is one of the best times of your life. I had a mixed experience. I think it was a time of incredible personal growth, but it was littered with harrowing experiences. My life, in the all-encompassing sense of the word, in the dorms was incredibly different from my life thereafter. I was single again when I began my 3rd year. I was at the beginning of some family business that wouldn't find resolution for years, I was coming to the realization that I had lost my passion for everything, and I had developed a bad case of wanderlust. The world around me changed very quickly and boyhood/teenage Anand found himself unfit to go on. Up until that point desire had always yielded to reason, and curiosity kept everyday exciting. It's strange that "maturation" brought on poorer habits and the loss of perspective, but to the best of my recollection, this is how it went down.
Years later, this too has passed.
I guess this brings me to the point. Though we were just sitting around playing Wii, listening to music, and thumbing through photographs, last night was an eye openning look at all that's transpired since I met my friends. I was able to follow the story from beginning to end with a new perspective, while from moment to moment remembering who I was and how it felt to be me when I was 18. In the broad, over-arching sense, not much has really changed since then. Sure we've all grown up, gotten jobs, and done or achieved things we could've never predicted, but we're all more of less the same people. I like this. I really do.
Sunday, June 3, 2007
What I fear the most
After thinking about it for quite sometime, I have finally identified my greatest fear. I really worry about never feeling or thinking about things with the same intensity and passion I had when I was 19.
Saturday, May 19, 2007
Dirges for imaginary friends
I went to bed at 9:30 last night and for some strange reason, I’m now wide awake. The cause is well understood but completely devoid of reason. It’s the dreams. Good god the dreams. I abandoned the obvious solution to this pesky problem quite a while ago in the hopes that enough time had passed and that I’d once again be able to sleep in peace. In reality, an exhausting evening workout usually ensures 8-9 hours of solid sleep, but my body’s weary from this week’s workouts and I took the day off. So here I am, sitting awake at 3:10am, trying to reason through the inexplicable.
Sunday, May 13, 2007
88 Keys
I've had an eventful weekend. Friday night I caught the new Spiderman flick at the IMAX downtown. I must say, I was impressed. I was expecting crap, but they actually dished out the entertainment. There were obviously a some flaws with the movie (i.e. MJ being a drama queen when in the CB she's nothing of the sort, and sandman disappearing for a long stretch in the movie), but they also had Toby McGuire strutting around the streets of nyc and sliding in a way that only Sarfraz would. I also liked that Topher Grace plays Eric Foreman in this movie. I like that character a lot and aspire to someday be a sarcastic jackass of that magnitude. Good time.
Yesterday evening I went and saw the Mariners get beat by the Yankees. I've been watching baseball games most of my life as something of a father/son thing (though my father would never leave my sister behind). I guess you could call it a family bonding thing. Anyway, this wasn't that. This was $8 beers, hanging out with friends, and the standard douchebaggery that results from the combination of those two things. I guess I don't have much to say about it, except that the stadium is freakin beautiful. We ran into something other friends at the ballgame... well I guess we knew they'd be there cause tons of people we knew were already going to the game. Naturally, we made plans to go out afterward. Unfortunately for me, I went directly to the bar with them while my friends went and "moved the car." They actually got in the car and moved it back to our apartment. I was notified by text message. Thanks guys, that didn't make me look like a desperate wierdo... 'ppreciate. ANYWAY, that gets me to the best part of the weekend. This place is called 88 keys cause it's a duelling piano bar. They have a drummer, but otherwise, these two guys just take requests and play songs all night. They know a lot of freaking songs. I had a bonding experience with a stranger at the bar when the bar tender skipped over this poor guy and his girlfriend like 8 times. I was the 8th time. I ordered a apple-tini (not for me), bourbon on the rocks (for me), and whatever that guy was having. Sure it was pricey, but it felt like the right thing to do. Naturally, he covered one of my orders later in the night and he, his lady friend, and I spent 30 minutes talking about bourbons... good times. At another point in the night, I was laughing and singing along when out of no where a "big-boned" woman in a party dress came over and stroked my hand for way too long while she described how a person realizes they need to have as much fun as possible after they turn 40. I appreciated her candor, and spoke to her until she walked away.
Bah good times. I did some pretty serious damage at the bar last night. My head still hurts, but it's not the worst thing I've ever felt. I really enjoyed meeting new people and talking to strangers. It's the sort of thing I was incredibly comfortable doing back in the south, and the sort of thing you can't really do out here. For example, my neighbor won't reply to "how're you doing?" In fact, he really only talks to us when he's asking if we have an real estate needs. Maybe the people who founded Seattle were misanthropists who kept moving away until they hit the Pacific... who knows.
Until next time,
Yesterday evening I went and saw the Mariners get beat by the Yankees. I've been watching baseball games most of my life as something of a father/son thing (though my father would never leave my sister behind). I guess you could call it a family bonding thing. Anyway, this wasn't that. This was $8 beers, hanging out with friends, and the standard douchebaggery that results from the combination of those two things. I guess I don't have much to say about it, except that the stadium is freakin beautiful. We ran into something other friends at the ballgame... well I guess we knew they'd be there cause tons of people we knew were already going to the game. Naturally, we made plans to go out afterward. Unfortunately for me, I went directly to the bar with them while my friends went and "moved the car." They actually got in the car and moved it back to our apartment. I was notified by text message. Thanks guys, that didn't make me look like a desperate wierdo... 'ppreciate. ANYWAY, that gets me to the best part of the weekend. This place is called 88 keys cause it's a duelling piano bar. They have a drummer, but otherwise, these two guys just take requests and play songs all night. They know a lot of freaking songs. I had a bonding experience with a stranger at the bar when the bar tender skipped over this poor guy and his girlfriend like 8 times. I was the 8th time. I ordered a apple-tini (not for me), bourbon on the rocks (for me), and whatever that guy was having. Sure it was pricey, but it felt like the right thing to do. Naturally, he covered one of my orders later in the night and he, his lady friend, and I spent 30 minutes talking about bourbons... good times. At another point in the night, I was laughing and singing along when out of no where a "big-boned" woman in a party dress came over and stroked my hand for way too long while she described how a person realizes they need to have as much fun as possible after they turn 40. I appreciated her candor, and spoke to her until she walked away.
Bah good times. I did some pretty serious damage at the bar last night. My head still hurts, but it's not the worst thing I've ever felt. I really enjoyed meeting new people and talking to strangers. It's the sort of thing I was incredibly comfortable doing back in the south, and the sort of thing you can't really do out here. For example, my neighbor won't reply to "how're you doing?" In fact, he really only talks to us when he's asking if we have an real estate needs. Maybe the people who founded Seattle were misanthropists who kept moving away until they hit the Pacific... who knows.
Until next time,
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
Begin again
I'm taking a second swing at online blogging. I maintained a xanga site through the second half of college and into the beginning of my professional career before beginning to feel self-conscious about the things I had shared and the pictures I had posted. I had the good sense to keep things relatively clean. But as in the case of most of my personal writing, I experimented, wrote on impulse, and often used language far too strong for the context.
I'm sitting here awake because I slept until late in the day. I went into work at my usual time, but soon found that I couldn't steady my eyes long enough to read my e-mail and that I was sweating profusely. I came home thinking that maybe I'd gotten sick. I don't have any firm proof, but I'm convinced it was the Chili's I had last night.
Enough foreplay....
I usually apply reasonable solutions to the problems I encounter in my personal life. I make amends because I'm often wrong or because a gesture is a small price to pay for friendship. I slow down and take my time to get something right after f'ing it up the first time. I try not to take risks with other people's well-being (emotional, material, financial, etc.). But when reasonable solutions fail, or when a situation no longer appears to have solutions, I immediately run to the extremes; I either drop it all together or make radical changes. I have a habit of throwing everything away and starting over. No, not in the material sense... that would be completely irresponsible. I'm talking about the periphery... the places I frequent, the people I see casually, the things I do for fun. It is my solution to waking up and realizing that my life is not headed in the direction that I want.
I can recall three great razings in the history of being me. Only once has it resulted in happiness, though it never fails to permanently close the doors of temptation and short-sighted decision-making. I guess I should know by now that changes must be slow, well explored, and masterfully executed. Maybe this time I'll get it write. What can I say? I'm an old dog...
I'm sitting here awake because I slept until late in the day. I went into work at my usual time, but soon found that I couldn't steady my eyes long enough to read my e-mail and that I was sweating profusely. I came home thinking that maybe I'd gotten sick. I don't have any firm proof, but I'm convinced it was the Chili's I had last night.
Enough foreplay....
I usually apply reasonable solutions to the problems I encounter in my personal life. I make amends because I'm often wrong or because a gesture is a small price to pay for friendship. I slow down and take my time to get something right after f'ing it up the first time. I try not to take risks with other people's well-being (emotional, material, financial, etc.). But when reasonable solutions fail, or when a situation no longer appears to have solutions, I immediately run to the extremes; I either drop it all together or make radical changes. I have a habit of throwing everything away and starting over. No, not in the material sense... that would be completely irresponsible. I'm talking about the periphery... the places I frequent, the people I see casually, the things I do for fun. It is my solution to waking up and realizing that my life is not headed in the direction that I want.
I can recall three great razings in the history of being me. Only once has it resulted in happiness, though it never fails to permanently close the doors of temptation and short-sighted decision-making. I guess I should know by now that changes must be slow, well explored, and masterfully executed. Maybe this time I'll get it write. What can I say? I'm an old dog...
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