I took a cold shower this morning. That’s enough to set your day off wrong. I am in a very pissy mood and the coffee isn’t helping. Cold showers suck, unless you have no power, then cold showers are a lovely indulgence. My pores puckered beneath the trickle of mostly cold water that turned icy when it hit my skin. Do you ever do that dance in the shower where you are trying to get your hair wet, but the rest of your body refuses to join in on the torture? I skipped all over the bathtub in a vain attempt to get my body just wet enough to lather up. That final plunge into the water to rinse succeeded in chilling my mood for the day. Did I mention that I am grumpy?
My Editing Essentials class revealed that I am not the only writer that has a problem with the language of language. My fellow students, mostly weathered night scholars like me, stared at Lezlie with frightened eyes, glazed over by a fear of misunderstanding and failure. It’s hard to ignore her enthusiasm. She loves language. She is language’s biggest cheerleader. But I am having a hard time understanding what is what and why it does what it does. I have hope. It’s small and fragile, but it’s still hope.
Yesterday my Lush products came. I forgot to order soap (yay for my memory!) but I did get my other stuff. Because of the lack of a long shower, I didn’t get to use the face wash and the shampoo bar. I am hoping that I can get a ride in tonight so I have an excuse for a nice, long shower.
Cat and Brian begin their trip to Portland today. I wish them happy trails. D and I hope to join them next year, but for now, I will text them until their phones run out of juice. Yes, I am that kind of friend.
It’s Thursday, which is closer to Friday and it’s my short day (although I was at work at 6:30). I have class and a test. Then I want to ride. The weekend must include 3 rides in order for me to fulfill my goal. I like goals. They give me purpose.
A continuation of my pissy mood – Why is it that people feel the need to share their life stories at work? I have just a few true friends here at work. I know that one will stay in touch with me after I leave. But the rest of them, well I am curious as to why they share all of the intimate details of their life. I stopped letting people in that far. When I did, I got fried for it, so I keep my distance, albeit a polite and professional distance. I am sitting here listening to people talk for the sake of talking. Can’t I listen to Deep Dish without being disturbed?
I am working on the final stretching stage for my ears. My goal is a 2 gauge. I bought stretching tapers for a 2 when I actually have 6g holes right now. I managed to squeeze 4g rings into my ears, but in order to get them all the way to a 2 I must wear the tapers for a week or so. They look like clear plastic straws, and aren’t the least bit subtle. I know it’s kind of tacky, but I would like to get a nice set of plugs. I think My bottom holes (I had 11 holes in my ears, but have since left a few of them to close) are the last interesting piercing I have, besides my 6g septum. I don’t wear my septum that often these days. Laziness pervades. If I could get a nice pincher that would be easy to conceal, then I would be happy. I shall search some more.
It’s time to get work done… I guess.
September 7th, 2006 at 10:11 am
I think I am one of those people who seems to always bring up my personal life; nothing too intimate but if someone mentions their life, I chime in. I don’t really like this about myself either.
September 7th, 2006 at 10:50 am
Okay, I want to clarify that statement. People here tend to speak just to hear their own voice. It’s constant chatter in the background of my grumpy mood, and as such, annoys the piss out me. They just happen to talk about their lives a lot. That makes sense. It’s familiar to them. I guess my bitterness is born of a lack of understanding, so although I get what they are talking about, they don’t understand a damn thing about me. The other problem I have is that they have the same conversations over and over. They seem limited to one topic, which they beat to death, and then start at the beginning again. Varation would muffle my annoyance quite a bit. But annoyed I remain and I am listening to a co-worker moan about his son’s car for the umpteenth time…..
September 7th, 2006 at 10:53 am
Ahh yes, then that would be quite irritating. I know a bunch of people who have told me the same story a bunch of times and each time, I cannot help but think, “Do they not even remember saying this? And must they go on and on about this crap?” But I endure it.
September 7th, 2006 at 10:59 am
I thought the repetative thing was exclusive to my older relations (how many friggin times am I going to hear about Mom’s crazy boyfriends and how mean my Great Grannie was?!?) but I think people start the repetition so that they can place the memory in you, fearing they would lose it themselves. That’s the idealist in me. I also think they have just run out of stories. But if you run out of stories, you aren’t living, and that brings up a whole new mess of questions.