To say that girls drive me mad is giving them too much credit. If they cause madness deliberately, then they might glory in the deed. Yet I've found it more often the case that girls are either unaware of their power over men, or they underestimate how far it extends.
I've written, rewritten, and ultimately abandoned various continuations of this idea. They made me variously self-conscious, uncomfortable, and anxious of their affect on my persona.
I think that Joe Diffie sums it up nicely.
"Then she walks right by and that all goes out the window
and your IQ starts to dwindle at the mention of her name"
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Return
Since by nature I am no writer, I find myself writing only when I have some need, or when I have nothing else to do. Unfortunately for those wishing to attain an accurate impression of my character, the time I am most liable to write is when there is a pall over my mood, and my mind is filled with dark and brooding thoughts. Indeed, though I am newly come from a weekend spent passing from joy to joy, the dream has now ended and I am again beset by normalcy. Consequently, I find myself writing not to convey my temporal gladness but as a means of dealing with the weekend's considerable emotional fallout.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
Anti-depressants
Daffodils are my favorite flower. There's something about them - I can't quite put my finger on it - something that speaks to me of hope. It's hard to be affected by even a touch of gloom when my most beloved flower is nearby.
With these pleasant thoughts running through my head, I conclude my stroll through the garden and head inside for some breakfast. It is music to my ears to hear the soft and soothing sound of vitamin D milk poured over my Honey Crunchin' Oats. Indeed, I can hardly imagine a sound more glorious. Each flake of cereal sends rapturous feelings coursing through my body. Content, well-fed, and ready for the day, I hit the road.
The Washington beltway has never been more inviting. Say what you will about rush hour traffic, but I find in it a great sense of camaraderie, community, and yes, even love. A fellow driver flashes me a winsome smile as they wave me in from the on-ramp. Ahead of me I see a family, voices raised together in song. Everyone is taking their time, and why not? All the better to soak up every moment of a picture-perfect morning.
After parking I head to the train. All around me are polished people dressed in shiny suits. On my way to the platform, I spot two gentlemen playing a lively game of hopscotch. The train arrives just before I do and I dart towards the door - only just in time! The other travelers laugh and smile good-naturedly at my small triumph. The train arrives at my stop all too soon. After an in-depth discussion with those sitting across from me, I am reluctant to leave my new friends.
Few are as blessed as I am in the workplace. It seems as if my position were carefully molded and crafted specifically for me, with all my likes and dislikes, my strengths and weaknesses taken into account. Nobody else could collate insurance policies with the same unquenchable enthusiasm and vigor! A pile of applications - nay, a tower of opportunities - is presented to me and I eagerly yet patiently enter each little character into the computer. I take pride in my speed and accuracy. The printer runs out of paper and I refill it, once, no, twice! Though much of the day passes with me accomplishing little more than the compression of my seat-cushion, I must be ready. Duty calls unexpectedly, and when it does, I must answer swiftly. As I relax comfortably during my evening train ride, I think to myself, "This is my life. This is happiness."
With these pleasant thoughts running through my head, I conclude my stroll through the garden and head inside for some breakfast. It is music to my ears to hear the soft and soothing sound of vitamin D milk poured over my Honey Crunchin' Oats. Indeed, I can hardly imagine a sound more glorious. Each flake of cereal sends rapturous feelings coursing through my body. Content, well-fed, and ready for the day, I hit the road.
The Washington beltway has never been more inviting. Say what you will about rush hour traffic, but I find in it a great sense of camaraderie, community, and yes, even love. A fellow driver flashes me a winsome smile as they wave me in from the on-ramp. Ahead of me I see a family, voices raised together in song. Everyone is taking their time, and why not? All the better to soak up every moment of a picture-perfect morning.
After parking I head to the train. All around me are polished people dressed in shiny suits. On my way to the platform, I spot two gentlemen playing a lively game of hopscotch. The train arrives just before I do and I dart towards the door - only just in time! The other travelers laugh and smile good-naturedly at my small triumph. The train arrives at my stop all too soon. After an in-depth discussion with those sitting across from me, I am reluctant to leave my new friends.
Few are as blessed as I am in the workplace. It seems as if my position were carefully molded and crafted specifically for me, with all my likes and dislikes, my strengths and weaknesses taken into account. Nobody else could collate insurance policies with the same unquenchable enthusiasm and vigor! A pile of applications - nay, a tower of opportunities - is presented to me and I eagerly yet patiently enter each little character into the computer. I take pride in my speed and accuracy. The printer runs out of paper and I refill it, once, no, twice! Though much of the day passes with me accomplishing little more than the compression of my seat-cushion, I must be ready. Duty calls unexpectedly, and when it does, I must answer swiftly. As I relax comfortably during my evening train ride, I think to myself, "This is my life. This is happiness."
The Deterioration of Life
Reality is sharpest in the morning, before my farce of a job has time to beat me into sullen submission.
I wake in the grass beneath the trees, an escape from my corporate captivity. I drive, though the train is faster, savoring the comparative freedom of sitting in my hardly-moving car. I choose the least helpful escalator and exhaust myself in a rapid ascent. I spend the minutes afforded by my haste briefly savouring a book. I then trudge resignedly into the lobby and complacently travel skyward to the thirteenth floor. I walk trance-like through the static, hauntingly familiar halls. With my words and my smiles I lie to well-meaning colleagues as they make their oft-repeated how are you's, unaware of the danger of receiving an honest answer.
I wake in the grass beneath the trees, an escape from my corporate captivity. I drive, though the train is faster, savoring the comparative freedom of sitting in my hardly-moving car. I choose the least helpful escalator and exhaust myself in a rapid ascent. I spend the minutes afforded by my haste briefly savouring a book. I then trudge resignedly into the lobby and complacently travel skyward to the thirteenth floor. I walk trance-like through the static, hauntingly familiar halls. With my words and my smiles I lie to well-meaning colleagues as they make their oft-repeated how are you's, unaware of the danger of receiving an honest answer.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Incubation
I'm trapped in a glass case of emotion.
Something unholy is doing its level best to burst out of my person. I feel it writhing. I feel the heat of its anger and frustration. At times it even lets out a cry to split stones and rend the very earth. Yet it lives inside me still. I cannot suffer it to remain forever.
Something unholy is doing its level best to burst out of my person. I feel it writhing. I feel the heat of its anger and frustration. At times it even lets out a cry to split stones and rend the very earth. Yet it lives inside me still. I cannot suffer it to remain forever.
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