Mental Rehab Post #25
Sometimes there are no excuses. You have to stand up and do those things that have to be done, make those moves that have to be made, damn the personal cost. And so this weekend when the nightlife was running hot and my alter ego was rolling his cage back and forth I did what had to be done. I studied.
And it's come to this?
These weekend updates have gotten way easy since I stopped doing anything.
My sole weekend adventure was in the form of joining the hunt for fuel on Friday night, as in Atlanta we have the weirdest little gas shortage going on. Due to an EPA restrictions, the city of only gets an ultra clean low sulfur summer gas (with gasititve additives and a twist of lime) but due to the Hurricanes in the Gulf earlier this year that special blend is in short supply. So everyday in Atlanta the good folks get together and re-enact the the scenes of cars waiting for gas you see in those pictures from the 70s.
I had tweaked it down to the fumes even with limiting my trips all week, but live on the Westside, work on the northwest side and go to school downtown, so I can only do so much.
Friday night, with the hand three microns above empty I set out. All total by my count I passed about thirteen gas stations, only one of which had gas where I actually waited in line for 15 minutes before giving up (the line hadn't moved) before I found a gas hideout. Or a fuel oasis, if you will. Oh there was line, but it was maybe a five minute wait. Five minutes. And no limit. Yes, in parts of the city they limit you, which is kinda screwed up since it means you'll just be back in line sooner.
So with a full tank of gas and memo to write, the only thing that could happen did.
Of course, my sinuses closed up. I mean like completely. No air. So I eke out the outline and general gist of the arguments I want to make before breathing through my mouth and the constant drool make me stop, take two night time Comtrex and pass out on the couch listening to the Direct TV's jazz channel labeled Watercolors, which is like jazz without the edge. Elevator music. Good elevator music. I have to apologize to Schmoopy's whose birthday party I missed on Friday.
I wake up Saturday and get at it. I don't go to the FAMU-TSU game.
I wake up Sunday and get at it. I dont' watch the Cowboys-Redskins game.
My outings when they come are brief. I see Spanky for the first time since she's been in town for all of thirty minutes over a late breakfast at the Waffle House, which by the way I think I'm about over the whole WH experience. Then I'm back at it. I see Shade briefly and find out she's joined the Army Reserves, so suddenly I'm in bizzaro world as earlier this week in one of many phone conversations I find out her little girly ass played Rugby in college and now this. And then...I'm back at it.
My memo, in my humble opinion is brilliant. And by that I mean I copied as much as I could from the good memo the prof gave as an example. A momentary scare when I printed it out as the spacing was wrong I was about to browbeat a computer into submission, but I fixed it.
I'm down to writing these blog posts at the office when I get some spare time, because when I'm home it's all about the books. I don't think I studied as much in a year of undergrad as I have in the short time I've been in law school. And that's scary.
Barkeep...three black coffees and a shot of Wild Turkey. What? It's what Einstein would drink!
Monday, September 29, 2008
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Late Nights and Books of Gobblety Gook
Mental Rehab Post #24
Nothing like real life to get your head out the clouds, or your own ass, and get the new-ish you headed in some direction. It may not be the direction you want to be going, but anyplace other than here might be a better yet. My grandfather used to counsel that no matter how bad the storm got, even if you were just crawling along, to "keep moving." It's a bigger metaphor than I remember.
Last night I got home around 9:30pm, figured out what i was going to make for dinner. turned on the oven, opened the laptop to get started on the next portion of Research assignment, worked through roughly 90% of it....and then suddenly it was just after midnight. Just like that. Whoosh. I had fallen asleep.
So dinner was lunch meat sandwich and glass of kool-aid.
Since I was up, I went ahead and re-read for the class I had tonight. This would be the class I think I understand the most. And quite strangely the words on the page had returned to gobblety gook after the previous two weeks I had thought I had a good handle on things. I actually like the prof, he's quick on his feet, a good communicator, interesting to listen to, so I had been getting it the past few weeks.
But I got my first memo back last night before my other class, and that may have colored everything.
In class I joked after we reviewed how it was supposed to look that she could just keep mine. I wasn't that far off. Apparently I'm going to have to either unlearn how to write like I'm writing now, or learn how to turn off one type of writing and turn on the other. It's a tricky thing. Most people don't write except when they have to, but I write because I like it. It's how I express myself. So I'm going to have an issue a lot of my classmates won't: how to change a fundamental part of who am...In addition to a fundamental change in my way of thinking, which is the overall process of law school.
Great.
On the social front...well, that about wraps that up.
Shade is in town for, er, something. We're doing a birthday brunch this weekend. We've been on the phone a lot the past few days as she clarifies her current relationship with her ..um... suitor. I always find the idea that a woman can be confused about a man's intentions a funny concept. When we were eighteen we were supposed to be coy. As we get older we all should have figured it out somewhere along the way. To get what I want, I have to give them what they want. And I keep meeting people who act surprised that other people have their own wants and needs.
And I guess we'll call her Spanky...is also in town for the FAMU-TSU game this weekend in the Georgia Dome which it looks like due to my educational responsibilities, I will NOT be attending. A four hour football game and the hustle bustle before and after is just too much. Spanky will be disappointed, or not, because I think her "plans" will be arriving. A hour and half for brunch on Sunday for Shade's birthday might be too much as well, but that will be a "game time" decision.
Work is work, only really compressed. I'm still the point man on so many issues it's not funny. And the soap opera drama...if only I could put the names to go with this. The chick whose going away party I attended a few weeks ago had a skeleton bone fall out of her closet since she left. She was the "office tease." Which in turn dominoes this other party's business into the street. That would be the "office high post." And since it involves married and unmarried peoples involved in increasing unlikely and odd combinations of nekkid shenanigans and the associated falsehoods plus misrepresentations that accompany such occurrences, let's just say I don't even miss television right now.
Now this isn't the first time this has happened around the office. Where I work is a colorful place that just seems to be a hotbed of ... she used to do what, Maury "you are the father" moments, criminal enterprises, odd couplings and drunken confessions, but this one is just so...blatant. And since the parties came across as the kind of people who just didn't do this type of thing...you know.
Anyway...Paper looks on schedule, homework done for Wed. class A, working Wed. class B tonight, done my reading, started on my outlines...starting to get in the groove of this. Maybe.
Barkeep...a tequlia shooter with a dash of St. John's Wort.
Nothing like real life to get your head out the clouds, or your own ass, and get the new-ish you headed in some direction. It may not be the direction you want to be going, but anyplace other than here might be a better yet. My grandfather used to counsel that no matter how bad the storm got, even if you were just crawling along, to "keep moving." It's a bigger metaphor than I remember.
Last night I got home around 9:30pm, figured out what i was going to make for dinner. turned on the oven, opened the laptop to get started on the next portion of Research assignment, worked through roughly 90% of it....and then suddenly it was just after midnight. Just like that. Whoosh. I had fallen asleep.
So dinner was lunch meat sandwich and glass of kool-aid.
Since I was up, I went ahead and re-read for the class I had tonight. This would be the class I think I understand the most. And quite strangely the words on the page had returned to gobblety gook after the previous two weeks I had thought I had a good handle on things. I actually like the prof, he's quick on his feet, a good communicator, interesting to listen to, so I had been getting it the past few weeks.
But I got my first memo back last night before my other class, and that may have colored everything.
In class I joked after we reviewed how it was supposed to look that she could just keep mine. I wasn't that far off. Apparently I'm going to have to either unlearn how to write like I'm writing now, or learn how to turn off one type of writing and turn on the other. It's a tricky thing. Most people don't write except when they have to, but I write because I like it. It's how I express myself. So I'm going to have an issue a lot of my classmates won't: how to change a fundamental part of who am...In addition to a fundamental change in my way of thinking, which is the overall process of law school.
Great.
On the social front...well, that about wraps that up.
Shade is in town for, er, something. We're doing a birthday brunch this weekend. We've been on the phone a lot the past few days as she clarifies her current relationship with her ..um... suitor. I always find the idea that a woman can be confused about a man's intentions a funny concept. When we were eighteen we were supposed to be coy. As we get older we all should have figured it out somewhere along the way. To get what I want, I have to give them what they want. And I keep meeting people who act surprised that other people have their own wants and needs.
And I guess we'll call her Spanky...is also in town for the FAMU-TSU game this weekend in the Georgia Dome which it looks like due to my educational responsibilities, I will NOT be attending. A four hour football game and the hustle bustle before and after is just too much. Spanky will be disappointed, or not, because I think her "plans" will be arriving. A hour and half for brunch on Sunday for Shade's birthday might be too much as well, but that will be a "game time" decision.
Work is work, only really compressed. I'm still the point man on so many issues it's not funny. And the soap opera drama...if only I could put the names to go with this. The chick whose going away party I attended a few weeks ago had a skeleton bone fall out of her closet since she left. She was the "office tease." Which in turn dominoes this other party's business into the street. That would be the "office high post." And since it involves married and unmarried peoples involved in increasing unlikely and odd combinations of nekkid shenanigans and the associated falsehoods plus misrepresentations that accompany such occurrences, let's just say I don't even miss television right now.Now this isn't the first time this has happened around the office. Where I work is a colorful place that just seems to be a hotbed of ... she used to do what, Maury "you are the father" moments, criminal enterprises, odd couplings and drunken confessions, but this one is just so...blatant. And since the parties came across as the kind of people who just didn't do this type of thing...you know.
Anyway...Paper looks on schedule, homework done for Wed. class A, working Wed. class B tonight, done my reading, started on my outlines...starting to get in the groove of this. Maybe.
Barkeep...a tequlia shooter with a dash of St. John's Wort.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
I took Wednesday off...
This is Mental Rehab Post #23
Just when you think you've everything under control, or in my case when you've just got everything semi where you can see it, if you lean real far and squint, life takes your best laid plans and concepts and goes "I wonder what would happen if I did this?" and then stands back to watch the fun. It's as though someone up there doesn't have enough to do already.
I took Wednesday off from work to catch up on the homework I was supposed to have done Sunday when I was out doing good deeds. I have a month of off time that I haven't used yet - and that doesn't roll over - so I figured what is one day in the grand scheme of getting where you want to be. Since I've been there I've given the company back roughly 13 weeks of vacay time, and we won't even go into the bonus money they were nice enough to let me know they were supposed to pay me...right before they changed the program and didn't make it retroactive.
But as actual events unfolded, Wednesday was when I figured out why people take such great pains to make the bathroom of their homes, especially the master bath, more than just a utility room. I now understand the moldings, plants, the artwork, the layout consideration, the occasional view and the whole idea of making it into a space of light where one can find oneself against the back drop of a cold cruel world.
Guess why.
I'd been a little queasy Tuesday night, but I shrugged it off. I'm a guy...you shrug things off. If it persisted I was going to go back to my Grandmother's tried and true flour, warm water and salt recipe to quiet it down. But when I drifted off I thought I was fine.
At 4:30am I found out I wasn't.
At 6:00am I still wasn't.
You can go in varying 15 and 30 minute intervals from here.
I tried to do a little reading for class but couldn't concentrate. I leafed through some magazines and looked at the pretty pictures. I considered painting the bathroom walls a ocean blue. I lay on the bed for while guessing the worst was over...but I was wrong. I drank the Milk of Magnesia. I leafed through the pictures in another magazine. I considered painting the walls of the bathroom a Terra cotta orange. More of the Milk of Mag. I realized I needed some new magazines.
I think I lost between five and ten pounds in 8 hours.
My original plan had been to rise early, make a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns, and get started with the homework. The research assignment was to be done by noon. If I finished early I was even going to see if I could get my haircut. Run by the bank and grocery store, back by one thirty. Read up on the other assignment, brief a case or two. Get to campus around five ready to go, not rushed. Bright eyed and bushy tailed is how they used to say it.
The...er...exodus stopped around 1pm. Let's do the math and see just how far off schedule I was?
Way far.
So I battled through the assignment I knew was due first. The one I had started last week but had let slide because I didn't think the questions were that hard. I am so brilliant! And then I started on the assignment I knew was also due the same night, but second. The one I had actually taken the day off to do but had been preempted, yeah that one. The one a classmate said had taken him an hour to do the first 10 of 30 questions. An hour doing the easy ones before the essay answers....
So I bared my teeth, winked at the crowd and dove in headlong.
And for those who wonder, in the little impromptu competition in class, my answers for the team were correct. I even got a small pack of M&M's a prize, thank you very much.
But I start on next week's homework tonight. Know this.
Barkeep. One of them Pepto Bismol martinis
Just when you think you've everything under control, or in my case when you've just got everything semi where you can see it, if you lean real far and squint, life takes your best laid plans and concepts and goes "I wonder what would happen if I did this?" and then stands back to watch the fun. It's as though someone up there doesn't have enough to do already.
I took Wednesday off from work to catch up on the homework I was supposed to have done Sunday when I was out doing good deeds. I have a month of off time that I haven't used yet - and that doesn't roll over - so I figured what is one day in the grand scheme of getting where you want to be. Since I've been there I've given the company back roughly 13 weeks of vacay time, and we won't even go into the bonus money they were nice enough to let me know they were supposed to pay me...right before they changed the program and didn't make it retroactive.
But as actual events unfolded, Wednesday was when I figured out why people take such great pains to make the bathroom of their homes, especially the master bath, more than just a utility room. I now understand the moldings, plants, the artwork, the layout consideration, the occasional view and the whole idea of making it into a space of light where one can find oneself against the back drop of a cold cruel world.
Guess why.
I'd been a little queasy Tuesday night, but I shrugged it off. I'm a guy...you shrug things off. If it persisted I was going to go back to my Grandmother's tried and true flour, warm water and salt recipe to quiet it down. But when I drifted off I thought I was fine.
At 4:30am I found out I wasn't.
At 6:00am I still wasn't.
You can go in varying 15 and 30 minute intervals from here.
I tried to do a little reading for class but couldn't concentrate. I leafed through some magazines and looked at the pretty pictures. I considered painting the bathroom walls a ocean blue. I lay on the bed for while guessing the worst was over...but I was wrong. I drank the Milk of Magnesia. I leafed through the pictures in another magazine. I considered painting the walls of the bathroom a Terra cotta orange. More of the Milk of Mag. I realized I needed some new magazines.
I think I lost between five and ten pounds in 8 hours.
My original plan had been to rise early, make a hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns, and get started with the homework. The research assignment was to be done by noon. If I finished early I was even going to see if I could get my haircut. Run by the bank and grocery store, back by one thirty. Read up on the other assignment, brief a case or two. Get to campus around five ready to go, not rushed. Bright eyed and bushy tailed is how they used to say it.
The...er...exodus stopped around 1pm. Let's do the math and see just how far off schedule I was?
Way far.
So I battled through the assignment I knew was due first. The one I had started last week but had let slide because I didn't think the questions were that hard. I am so brilliant! And then I started on the assignment I knew was also due the same night, but second. The one I had actually taken the day off to do but had been preempted, yeah that one. The one a classmate said had taken him an hour to do the first 10 of 30 questions. An hour doing the easy ones before the essay answers....
So I bared my teeth, winked at the crowd and dove in headlong.
And for those who wonder, in the little impromptu competition in class, my answers for the team were correct. I even got a small pack of M&M's a prize, thank you very much.
But I start on next week's homework tonight. Know this.
Barkeep. One of them Pepto Bismol martinis
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
They got me...
Mental Rehab Post #22
I believe I may have bitten off a bit more than I can chew. Or want to swallow. Or something. There are times in your life you get overwhelmed. And at those moments we have choice. We can a) cower and fret and accomplish nothing or b) we can grin like we know what we're doing, give the crowd a wink and go at it like there's no tomorrow and the clock says it's 11:59.
Guess which camp I'm in?
There is no weekend recap this weekend because my weekend while emotionally fulfilling was a educational disaster.
Saturday and Sunday, at the behest of my junior partner and erstwhile chum Schmoopy I marinated about 24 pounds of prime chicken and slaved over a hot stove using my Grandmother's recipe to make Sweet Potato Pie. The chicken I parted out into two pound bags, drenched in Soy sauce, this yellow stuff, some other stuff and then a broth and stuck in the fridge and then the pies took like forever. Measured wrong then other stuff, and I also figured out why my pies never quite taste like my grandmothers. Now all have left is the get the crust like her's and then I'll make them and she can eat.
We all got together for the final cooking. After we'd spent all day in a very nice house in Sandy Springs drinking wine and fretting over minor stuff, myself and the rest of the aptly named Team Rafiki (I may not have spelled that right) drove our dinner of chicken w/gravy, mashed red potatoes, corn, mixed veggies and salad down to this house near Grant Park for families in transition, people who've been dealt a bad break and are working to get back onto something. I loathe to say homeless because they're just folks who for a bit of whatever could have been me.
See, old Schmoopy is all into giving back, and since I support her 1000% that means I am too. Lucky me.
It was emotional. One girl got a little teary in the kitchen. We held babies and I cracked jokes and served food and I felt bad because the cake we got had nuts in it and the little guy who wanted cake couldn't have any. I may have to do that again because I think I owe that kid a dessert.
And all this emotional uplift was buoyed by Sporty's response to her birthday words. She said they were more important to her than the oft desired "three words." Okay...that's a little scary really. But I'm not asking no questions.
But as an educational situation, I blew it. My second memo is due and I've only skimmed the cases. My class preparedness has to get done, so everything else slides to the back for a minute. The simple assignment I thought we had one of my classmates said took him an hour for the first of 12 of the 30 questions. And I'm behind on the digital lessons too.
And I'm sitting here writing this.
I gotta get some sleep. And get it going. Be caught up by Friday. Watch me now, smile, wink at the camera. Here I go.
Barkeep. Let's get some!
I believe I may have bitten off a bit more than I can chew. Or want to swallow. Or something. There are times in your life you get overwhelmed. And at those moments we have choice. We can a) cower and fret and accomplish nothing or b) we can grin like we know what we're doing, give the crowd a wink and go at it like there's no tomorrow and the clock says it's 11:59.
Guess which camp I'm in?
There is no weekend recap this weekend because my weekend while emotionally fulfilling was a educational disaster.
Saturday and Sunday, at the behest of my junior partner and erstwhile chum Schmoopy I marinated about 24 pounds of prime chicken and slaved over a hot stove using my Grandmother's recipe to make Sweet Potato Pie. The chicken I parted out into two pound bags, drenched in Soy sauce, this yellow stuff, some other stuff and then a broth and stuck in the fridge and then the pies took like forever. Measured wrong then other stuff, and I also figured out why my pies never quite taste like my grandmothers. Now all have left is the get the crust like her's and then I'll make them and she can eat.
We all got together for the final cooking. After we'd spent all day in a very nice house in Sandy Springs drinking wine and fretting over minor stuff, myself and the rest of the aptly named Team Rafiki (I may not have spelled that right) drove our dinner of chicken w/gravy, mashed red potatoes, corn, mixed veggies and salad down to this house near Grant Park for families in transition, people who've been dealt a bad break and are working to get back onto something. I loathe to say homeless because they're just folks who for a bit of whatever could have been me.
See, old Schmoopy is all into giving back, and since I support her 1000% that means I am too. Lucky me.
It was emotional. One girl got a little teary in the kitchen. We held babies and I cracked jokes and served food and I felt bad because the cake we got had nuts in it and the little guy who wanted cake couldn't have any. I may have to do that again because I think I owe that kid a dessert.
And all this emotional uplift was buoyed by Sporty's response to her birthday words. She said they were more important to her than the oft desired "three words." Okay...that's a little scary really. But I'm not asking no questions.
But as an educational situation, I blew it. My second memo is due and I've only skimmed the cases. My class preparedness has to get done, so everything else slides to the back for a minute. The simple assignment I thought we had one of my classmates said took him an hour for the first of 12 of the 30 questions. And I'm behind on the digital lessons too.
And I'm sitting here writing this.
I gotta get some sleep. And get it going. Be caught up by Friday. Watch me now, smile, wink at the camera. Here I go.
Barkeep. Let's get some!
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Tick tick tick
Relapse Post #2
It's Sporty's Birthday today. I hope she's having a great time. I just realized one of the reasons I'm not actively pursuing the one or two opportunities I may have had...it's that I don't want to be that guy that talks about the last woman to the next woman. It's sad, it's creepy... and I don't want to be that guy. Whoever it is deserves my complete attention.
What follows is what I sent her today, in addition to the actual physical gift she got earlier this week. She used to joke that all my gifts came with words, and they did. Only this time the right words weren't ready when the box was.
It's a derivative of something I read and it just fit her, but it's the first time what I have to give in words isn't mine. The words come a little harder now.
For your birthday I wish for you these things...
a place of comfort when things appear difficult
endless hugs when she feels low
friendships that make life even better
and beauty for her to know
laughter to echo though her soul
countless smiles to brighten her day
faith for when she feels empty
and joy for when she finds time to play
confidence for when she doubts herself
and courage so she can achieve
the patience to wait until the world is ready
and love because that's how it should be.
Happy Birthday Sunshine...
It's Sporty's Birthday today. I hope she's having a great time. I just realized one of the reasons I'm not actively pursuing the one or two opportunities I may have had...it's that I don't want to be that guy that talks about the last woman to the next woman. It's sad, it's creepy... and I don't want to be that guy. Whoever it is deserves my complete attention.
What follows is what I sent her today, in addition to the actual physical gift she got earlier this week. She used to joke that all my gifts came with words, and they did. Only this time the right words weren't ready when the box was.
It's a derivative of something I read and it just fit her, but it's the first time what I have to give in words isn't mine. The words come a little harder now.
For your birthday I wish for you these things...
a place of comfort when things appear difficult
endless hugs when she feels low
friendships that make life even better
and beauty for her to know
laughter to echo though her soul
countless smiles to brighten her day
faith for when she feels empty
and joy for when she finds time to play
confidence for when she doubts herself
and courage so she can achieve
the patience to wait until the world is ready
and love because that's how it should be.
Happy Birthday Sunshine...
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Thoughts of things past
Relapse Post #1
This is Sporty's birthday weekend. First time in a long time we didn't hang out. Journey of a thousand miles starts somewhere. And me with no frequent flier miles.
I still think of her daily. It's sad that I still do that, but I can't help it. Why can't you just let it go you ask? It's over, it's done, why are you still here is the question? If you can toss away a relationship like a napkin without a look back, then it it says at lot about you and how you think of people. I like to think I'm more than that, better than that. And since I've tried living my life on other peoples terms and having found that my opinion does really mean something, this is how it is. I'm not gonna apologize for who I am or how I feel.
It will fade eventually...hopefully. Until then I see her face and imagine her in scenes in my mind and as I trod the path of daily life, both fantastic and mundane, the simple and the exciting.
A black sweater dress from a magazine ad drapes over her body.
A hoodie and jeans, her head tilted to the side just slightly. Her face shines out.
Profiling in the back of the Bentley, shades on.
Just a towel, her skin slick and wet.
On a motorcycle, red and black with her number on the side, a devilish grin on her face.
In a sleeveless deep purple evening gown holding a champagne flute.
In a tank top and long shorts, sweaty with her hands wrapped fresh from a boxing workout.
In a mini skirt and halter top, leaned against the bar taking shots of tequila.
In a man's t-shirt and boy shorts, on the couch curled up and comfy.
Laughing as the jeep gets airborne as we race over the dunes.
Grocery shopping.
Stockings. Garter. Bustier.
On the beach in Greece, in a bikini top and a wrap, watching the sunset.
She is far too much to classify with a single image of imagination, to much to see as anything but whatever it is she wants to be. That's why the vision varies. Strong, sexy, elegant, fun, cool, comfortable. Sporty.
The last one is a memory.
Her elbows on the table, hands on her chin cupping her face, her eyes kinda looking up.
She would do it occasionally during our conversations after a dinner, as we sat soaking up the ambiance and alcohol. It was the only time I ever heard her little girl voice. It was the only time I ever liked hearing any woman's little girl voice.
Absolutely beautiful.
It's so hard to let go.
This is Sporty's birthday weekend. First time in a long time we didn't hang out. Journey of a thousand miles starts somewhere. And me with no frequent flier miles.
I still think of her daily. It's sad that I still do that, but I can't help it. Why can't you just let it go you ask? It's over, it's done, why are you still here is the question? If you can toss away a relationship like a napkin without a look back, then it it says at lot about you and how you think of people. I like to think I'm more than that, better than that. And since I've tried living my life on other peoples terms and having found that my opinion does really mean something, this is how it is. I'm not gonna apologize for who I am or how I feel.
It will fade eventually...hopefully. Until then I see her face and imagine her in scenes in my mind and as I trod the path of daily life, both fantastic and mundane, the simple and the exciting.
A black sweater dress from a magazine ad drapes over her body.A hoodie and jeans, her head tilted to the side just slightly. Her face shines out.
Profiling in the back of the Bentley, shades on.
Just a towel, her skin slick and wet.
On a motorcycle, red and black with her number on the side, a devilish grin on her face.
In a sleeveless deep purple evening gown holding a champagne flute.
In a tank top and long shorts, sweaty with her hands wrapped fresh from a boxing workout.
In a mini skirt and halter top, leaned against the bar taking shots of tequila.
In a man's t-shirt and boy shorts, on the couch curled up and comfy.
Laughing as the jeep gets airborne as we race over the dunes.
Grocery shopping.
Stockings. Garter. Bustier.
On the beach in Greece, in a bikini top and a wrap, watching the sunset.
She is far too much to classify with a single image of imagination, to much to see as anything but whatever it is she wants to be. That's why the vision varies. Strong, sexy, elegant, fun, cool, comfortable. Sporty.
The last one is a memory.
Her elbows on the table, hands on her chin cupping her face, her eyes kinda looking up.
She would do it occasionally during our conversations after a dinner, as we sat soaking up the ambiance and alcohol. It was the only time I ever heard her little girl voice. It was the only time I ever liked hearing any woman's little girl voice.
Absolutely beautiful.
It's so hard to let go.
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Poetry
Little bits of heaven
rain sometimes
fall in the drops between drops
the space between spaces
and potential fills with
the collective of humanity's dreams
rough and unrefined
raw as the hand hewn breadth of our souls
we are filthy with dust of life
hobbled by fate and illusion
the spill
cleanses us of regret
and leaves us pure
for the coming of tomorrow
for the coming of hope
for the arrival of the next dream
and the world continues
I wish it would rain.
rain sometimes
fall in the drops between drops
the space between spaces
and potential fills with
the collective of humanity's dreams
rough and unrefined
raw as the hand hewn breadth of our souls
we are filthy with dust of life
hobbled by fate and illusion
the spill
cleanses us of regret
and leaves us pure
for the coming of tomorrow
for the coming of hope
for the arrival of the next dream
and the world continues
I wish it would rain.
The Weekend Recap - Once again
Mental Rehab Post #21
Here we have what they call in the business the relapse. Better known as falling of the wagon, I opened up my "dream box" and it's something I probably need to close. I almost wish she either mad at me for not getting it or just ignored me, but then I hear from her and ....let's just say I shouldn't still feel like that. But I do. And the band played on.
Friday - Studying. My first complete legal memo was due Monday so I hunkered down, got my paperwork and got my arguments together, reviewed the details and worked out a overall sketch and outline of what I intended to write and how all the elements fit together following the layout we had discussed in class.
And the sad part is you believe all that.
Okay, that was the plan. Really. The reality is Sporty didn't agree with me that my idea of getting her something for her birthday was a bad idea. So although I had the best laid plans, in reality I sat on my couch looking at my laptop screen unable to concentrate. Had I actually done something like oh, watched TV or a movie or read a book I might even have reason to be mad at myself, but I as planned I on turned on the Jazz Channel and looked at the little laptop screen with one the cases on my lap staring off into space.
Until I woke up around 4am and went to bed.
So Saturday my head is clear, and I'm going to get at it. I actually do read the cases and do the actual outline and kind of mess around and don't do a whole lot else.
To reward myself for nothing I take Saturday off (I'm so smart) and go to a birthday for a friend of mine down in the Castleberry District. It's a new little spot called Tapas 255, which is done really well as far as the decor and the atmosphere. Unlike the walk-in closet sized M Bar next door, the spot has some space, the deck looks great and the crowd looks like their old enough to order drinks. That last part is occasionally a problem in Castleberry.
One special note, I passed a party of what I considered OLD people, you know people in suits of the primary colors with matching shoes and hats (red, green, that sort of thing) and a few of the younger dudes looked at me and said it looked like my kinda crowd. Wanted to kick him in his young ass.
I was only staying an hour, so like three hours later I finally get the ass to leave. I would have left earlier (seriously) but the waitress disappeared with my credit card. Mine and like six other peoples. For like forty five minutes. I'm checking my balance daily for the next few weeks. Okay, maybe I would have stayed because It's been awhile since I did the "club thing" and girls don't usually wear skirts that short to house parties. There were a few I knew couldn't bend more than ten degrees forwards or backwards without ...er...getting friendly with the world.
The party was nice. Traded a little gossip, got some free cake, and had a woman approach me on her own initiative. I did look good in the black though.
Sunday. I had no choice. I got to actual work. And then I realized my folly. Around say...8pm I realized I hadn't eaten dinner yet. Or lunch. Or breakfast for that matter. This was much harder than I thought, even though I had an outline. I had even missed most of the Cowboy season opener to get this done! What's really going on? (Thank god for SportsCenter) So I keep at it till, revising and rewriting till...2am? ...and finish up the last paragraph and polish at the office.
Let's hope this is lesson learned. But I doubt it.
Barkeep. Aw man forget it, I'm going to bed.
Here we have what they call in the business the relapse. Better known as falling of the wagon, I opened up my "dream box" and it's something I probably need to close. I almost wish she either mad at me for not getting it or just ignored me, but then I hear from her and ....let's just say I shouldn't still feel like that. But I do. And the band played on.
Friday - Studying. My first complete legal memo was due Monday so I hunkered down, got my paperwork and got my arguments together, reviewed the details and worked out a overall sketch and outline of what I intended to write and how all the elements fit together following the layout we had discussed in class.
And the sad part is you believe all that.
Okay, that was the plan. Really. The reality is Sporty didn't agree with me that my idea of getting her something for her birthday was a bad idea. So although I had the best laid plans, in reality I sat on my couch looking at my laptop screen unable to concentrate. Had I actually done something like oh, watched TV or a movie or read a book I might even have reason to be mad at myself, but I as planned I on turned on the Jazz Channel and looked at the little laptop screen with one the cases on my lap staring off into space.
Until I woke up around 4am and went to bed.
So Saturday my head is clear, and I'm going to get at it. I actually do read the cases and do the actual outline and kind of mess around and don't do a whole lot else.
To reward myself for nothing I take Saturday off (I'm so smart) and go to a birthday for a friend of mine down in the Castleberry District. It's a new little spot called Tapas 255, which is done really well as far as the decor and the atmosphere. Unlike the walk-in closet sized M Bar next door, the spot has some space, the deck looks great and the crowd looks like their old enough to order drinks. That last part is occasionally a problem in Castleberry.
One special note, I passed a party of what I considered OLD people, you know people in suits of the primary colors with matching shoes and hats (red, green, that sort of thing) and a few of the younger dudes looked at me and said it looked like my kinda crowd. Wanted to kick him in his young ass.
I was only staying an hour, so like three hours later I finally get the ass to leave. I would have left earlier (seriously) but the waitress disappeared with my credit card. Mine and like six other peoples. For like forty five minutes. I'm checking my balance daily for the next few weeks. Okay, maybe I would have stayed because It's been awhile since I did the "club thing" and girls don't usually wear skirts that short to house parties. There were a few I knew couldn't bend more than ten degrees forwards or backwards without ...er...getting friendly with the world.
The party was nice. Traded a little gossip, got some free cake, and had a woman approach me on her own initiative. I did look good in the black though.
Sunday. I had no choice. I got to actual work. And then I realized my folly. Around say...8pm I realized I hadn't eaten dinner yet. Or lunch. Or breakfast for that matter. This was much harder than I thought, even though I had an outline. I had even missed most of the Cowboy season opener to get this done! What's really going on? (Thank god for SportsCenter) So I keep at it till, revising and rewriting till...2am? ...and finish up the last paragraph and polish at the office.
Let's hope this is lesson learned. But I doubt it.
Barkeep. Aw man forget it, I'm going to bed.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Poetry
why
why couldn't have I have been
been him
the one you called your man
he who fit your plan
been the smile that made you smile
the groove that fit your style
the wind that filled your sail
that special piece of male
a pair of arms to hold you tight
in the deep recess of night
the spring to fill your soul
you see
I was part but not the whole
why not I
why couldn't have I have been
been him
the one you called your man
he who fit your plan
been the smile that made you smile
the groove that fit your style
the wind that filled your sail
that special piece of male
a pair of arms to hold you tight
in the deep recess of night
the spring to fill your soul
you see
I was part but not the whole
why not I
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Odd Quotes
Love is what you've been through with somebody.
~James Thurber, quoted in Life magazine, 1960
~James Thurber, quoted in Life magazine, 1960
Friday, September 5, 2008
Watching McCain
This is a Political Post
I find it odd that both candidates are touting change as the big ticket item this year as the campaigns go forward. Stephen Colbert put it best when, and I paraphrase, "The Republicans believe that only the Republicans are in the right position to fix the mess the Republicans made." Maybe. I don't know. But it's gonna be an interesting ride finding out.
I listened to Obama, so in all fairness I sat and listened to McCain.
Well, let's just say that McCain doesn't have the same resonant tone as is his opponent.
I watched a few minutes of Cindy McCain as well, and I will say this, she does really care for her husband. True she looked plastic, almost Stepford-ish standing on stage, but then that's probably what's best for showing off love.
I didn't watch Palin the night before, but I understand she came off either very forthright or very mean spirited depending on your point of view. But I felt compelled to tune into what could be the future President (at least for while provided his heart doesn't give out) and give him my ear just like I gave it to the democratic nominee.
The crowd looked like the country club. I kept looking for minorities in the crowd shots (sorry, just my reaction). And they sounded like they were in still in Beijing cheering on Micheal Phelps. USA! USA! And just once I'd like to see McCain introduced without mention of his time as a POW. He's done quite a bit since then.
Oh kay.
John McCain isn't really a great speaker, but we're supposed to judge him on his words. He touted his maverick credentials and his long service. He brought up how those on his side of fallen to temptation. Which I found interesting.
Then he warmed up the mike and started singing what sounded like the hoary old Republican song...denigrating his opponent and acting for the most part like he didn't tune in last Thursday and at least get his facts straight. Obama will raise taxes. Obama will take away jobs. Obama thinks he's been anointed by God. Obama will (fill in the blank with the disaster of your choice).
He did mention he hated war, which seemed odd for a man willing to commit our troops for 100 years.
And he talked about change. Which seems for odd for man who has been inside Bush's back pocket for 8 years.
Then he talked about bipartisanship... which was good.
Then he talked about transparency.... which was good.
He mentioned service...always a good concept.
Then he talked about Vietnam.... for a while.
One cannot deny that John McCain has served his country. We can also agree that he's not the greatest speaker in the world. But he touted service, and change and ....er....lots and lots of service.
So now onto the debates.
Just floating this out there...why debates? Why not a discussion. Three chairs. McCain in one, Obama in the other and stranger off the street every five minutes with a new, unrehearsed question that both men chime in on, back and forth. Give'em two hours, televised with breaks every thirty minutes. What do you say?
Maybe someone from a network reads this blog....and maybe I'm just dreaming
I find it odd that both candidates are touting change as the big ticket item this year as the campaigns go forward. Stephen Colbert put it best when, and I paraphrase, "The Republicans believe that only the Republicans are in the right position to fix the mess the Republicans made." Maybe. I don't know. But it's gonna be an interesting ride finding out.
I listened to Obama, so in all fairness I sat and listened to McCain.
Well, let's just say that McCain doesn't have the same resonant tone as is his opponent.
I watched a few minutes of Cindy McCain as well, and I will say this, she does really care for her husband. True she looked plastic, almost Stepford-ish standing on stage, but then that's probably what's best for showing off love.
I didn't watch Palin the night before, but I understand she came off either very forthright or very mean spirited depending on your point of view. But I felt compelled to tune into what could be the future President (at least for while provided his heart doesn't give out) and give him my ear just like I gave it to the democratic nominee.
The crowd looked like the country club. I kept looking for minorities in the crowd shots (sorry, just my reaction). And they sounded like they were in still in Beijing cheering on Micheal Phelps. USA! USA! And just once I'd like to see McCain introduced without mention of his time as a POW. He's done quite a bit since then.
Oh kay.
John McCain isn't really a great speaker, but we're supposed to judge him on his words. He touted his maverick credentials and his long service. He brought up how those on his side of fallen to temptation. Which I found interesting.
Then he warmed up the mike and started singing what sounded like the hoary old Republican song...denigrating his opponent and acting for the most part like he didn't tune in last Thursday and at least get his facts straight. Obama will raise taxes. Obama will take away jobs. Obama thinks he's been anointed by God. Obama will (fill in the blank with the disaster of your choice).
He did mention he hated war, which seemed odd for a man willing to commit our troops for 100 years.
And he talked about change. Which seems for odd for man who has been inside Bush's back pocket for 8 years.
Then he talked about bipartisanship... which was good.
Then he talked about transparency.... which was good.
He mentioned service...always a good concept.
Then he talked about Vietnam.... for a while.
One cannot deny that John McCain has served his country. We can also agree that he's not the greatest speaker in the world. But he touted service, and change and ....er....lots and lots of service.
So now onto the debates.
Just floating this out there...why debates? Why not a discussion. Three chairs. McCain in one, Obama in the other and stranger off the street every five minutes with a new, unrehearsed question that both men chime in on, back and forth. Give'em two hours, televised with breaks every thirty minutes. What do you say?
Maybe someone from a network reads this blog....and maybe I'm just dreaming
Thursday, September 4, 2008
I can feel my blood pressure
This is a health post
I'm getting old. What can I say. And things that should be swinging freely are starting to creak. No not that...minds in the gutter. But as my father likes to say, "getting old is better than the alternative." And the band played on...
A few years ago I had a chest pain, and Sporty insisted I go to the doctor, something I normally would not have done. In most cases, being a typical guy, I would have shrugged it off until the pain subsided then found out twenty years from now that my condition had existed since when I should have taken my ass to the doctor long ass time ago. But anyway I did go to the doctor because she said to and found out I had high blood pressure.
I say had because it's much better now. Going to the doctor and finding out fairly early probably helped. She might have saved my life.
I mean, you ever see one of those movies where the doctor's goes "Excuse me sir, are you sure you're breathing?" Yeah, that was me the first time I went. Numbers at the far end of "you might want to lie down, take a few breaths and try to relax." Looking back I'm fairly amazed they didn't call for an ambulance. Now it's down to merely a little high from time to time. Like now.
Maybe it's the school thing, and the job thing, and the house thing, and the money thing and every other damn thing all coming together in a lovely multi-threaded stress weave but lately I have a sensation that I haven't had in years. Back in my heavy drinking days I would wake up after a good drink and feel my blood pressure in my ears. I was a eerie feeling, sort of a low rumble in my head which I knew if I just stayed still for a while would pass. When I stopped drinking like that, those moments alone in bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings hoping I hadn't drunk myself to death passed for the most part.
And that was true until a week ago. I can hear it again. And it scares me.
I mix up the diet - salads, oat bran, baked foods, veggies and juices mixed with fried whatever and the occasionally extra greasy greasy something. I stopped eating crazy portions, now I just eat until I'm full throw the rest away. My weight is still down, my belts and pants loose.
Is it the diet? The stress? The whole of my existence?
Barkeep...something calming and soothing. With some rum in it.
I'm getting old. What can I say. And things that should be swinging freely are starting to creak. No not that...minds in the gutter. But as my father likes to say, "getting old is better than the alternative." And the band played on...
A few years ago I had a chest pain, and Sporty insisted I go to the doctor, something I normally would not have done. In most cases, being a typical guy, I would have shrugged it off until the pain subsided then found out twenty years from now that my condition had existed since when I should have taken my ass to the doctor long ass time ago. But anyway I did go to the doctor because she said to and found out I had high blood pressure.
I say had because it's much better now. Going to the doctor and finding out fairly early probably helped. She might have saved my life.
I mean, you ever see one of those movies where the doctor's goes "Excuse me sir, are you sure you're breathing?" Yeah, that was me the first time I went. Numbers at the far end of "you might want to lie down, take a few breaths and try to relax." Looking back I'm fairly amazed they didn't call for an ambulance. Now it's down to merely a little high from time to time. Like now.
Maybe it's the school thing, and the job thing, and the house thing, and the money thing and every other damn thing all coming together in a lovely multi-threaded stress weave but lately I have a sensation that I haven't had in years. Back in my heavy drinking days I would wake up after a good drink and feel my blood pressure in my ears. I was a eerie feeling, sort of a low rumble in my head which I knew if I just stayed still for a while would pass. When I stopped drinking like that, those moments alone in bed on Saturday and Sunday mornings hoping I hadn't drunk myself to death passed for the most part.
And that was true until a week ago. I can hear it again. And it scares me.
I mix up the diet - salads, oat bran, baked foods, veggies and juices mixed with fried whatever and the occasionally extra greasy greasy something. I stopped eating crazy portions, now I just eat until I'm full throw the rest away. My weight is still down, my belts and pants loose.
Is it the diet? The stress? The whole of my existence?
Barkeep...something calming and soothing. With some rum in it.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Weekend Update - with me!
Mental Rehab Post #20
Nothing like good honest hard working to get your mind off those things that keep lingering on "done issues." Didn't work all really since she texted me to check on me, but I like to think ... I like to hope anyway... that I'm putting this in the proper perspective. They say time heals all wounds, but then I guess I've always emotionally been a bleeder. But I keep moving. Not always fast, not always pretty and yet the band played on.
Friday was spent in. Yes it was a three day weekend but taking into consideration my "educational responsibilities" I decided to get to work in earnest, maturity being what it is. Due shortly was my first legal memo, a daunting task that my professor joked by the end of the semester, "we'll be able to cut a swath through in a few hours." One can only hope that time comes soon.
I spent most of Friday evening with the jazz channel playing in the background, outlining and reading then re-reading the a) case, b) cases to reference c) the sample case to work from on the handout d) the 70 or so pages from the book that were supposed to give us some mental footing and e)my notes from class. I fell asleep on the couch at 3am with only the outline and marginal understanding of what I'm going to do. My plan is be done with the whole thing by Sunday morning.
Oh the excitement!
Saturday morning...what was left of it, I wrote out a rough. Well, technically it was the rough's rough. The beginning of the part where you begin to get your ideas together. I'm not sure it qualified as a rough draft. Well then to clear my head, I did some laundry and ate something then got back at it. And sketched out a few arguments and started getting the general gist of it.
A scant five hours later I'd finally finished. The rough. Okay, there was a nap in there somewhere and I cleaned up the house a little, but I was feeling like I'd accomplished something. So when my RP called about the Urban Soul pool party I played hooky for a hot minute. And yes, I put the laptop in the trunk.
The party was sparse, but good. People actually got in the pool! At most parties I go to the pool is really more of a decorative item or theme piece than an activity. But I hung for a couple of hours and then took it to the house. Feeling good about the world I found then I made a horrible mistake. No, I hadn't erased anything or done the wrong assignment, but I converted my work so far into the proper format for submission to see how far along I was. The paper had to be three pages. Because I'd used a smaller font and spacing, I somehow typed up nearly four pages. Neat. Great. Whatever. I said fuck it and went to bed.
So Sunday was editing day. Plus my professor had told us this neat co-inky dink where on some printers the document printed out correctly, and others it the lines per page didn't sync between screen and paper. So we might have to jerry-rig something in a bad printing situation. So I edited this, and removed that and looked how to do this again, when around 3pm my RP calls. He's been an attorney for over a decade. His advice? Stop working on it. According to him, no matter what I turn in they're going to turn it to mincemeat. It's part of the process. Tear you down to build you back up in their image. Yada yada yada.
He couldn't have told me this Saturday?
Monday was a holiday. Oooh yeah. First time in a while that I've had a day devoted to nothing. I re-read my assignment again and got my stuff together, looked over my other homework, did more laundry , and then I um...went shopping for Sporty's birthday.
Yeah. So what?
Nothing extravagant. Not the custom action figure of her I was thinking about having made. Not a bevy of the graphic tees she loves from the web. Not the over the top home flower delivery (she loves tulips). Not the one of the many "other items" I was considering ...as far back as May. Last year.
And it's called taking an interest, thank you! My emotions are merely... misdirected... at the moment.
In any case I did that down in Little Five Points, the ATL's little bohemian corner, among the nick-nak shops and record stores then called it a day. And fell asleep again on the couch at 9pm. Thank god I hadn't put the steak in the oven.
On the plus side I did wake up and actually get out of bed at 6am! One day down...four years to go!
Barkeep, Wheat juice with a carrot chaser! and a shot of B12!
Nothing like good honest hard working to get your mind off those things that keep lingering on "done issues." Didn't work all really since she texted me to check on me, but I like to think ... I like to hope anyway... that I'm putting this in the proper perspective. They say time heals all wounds, but then I guess I've always emotionally been a bleeder. But I keep moving. Not always fast, not always pretty and yet the band played on.
Friday was spent in. Yes it was a three day weekend but taking into consideration my "educational responsibilities" I decided to get to work in earnest, maturity being what it is. Due shortly was my first legal memo, a daunting task that my professor joked by the end of the semester, "we'll be able to cut a swath through in a few hours." One can only hope that time comes soon.
I spent most of Friday evening with the jazz channel playing in the background, outlining and reading then re-reading the a) case, b) cases to reference c) the sample case to work from on the handout d) the 70 or so pages from the book that were supposed to give us some mental footing and e)my notes from class. I fell asleep on the couch at 3am with only the outline and marginal understanding of what I'm going to do. My plan is be done with the whole thing by Sunday morning.
Oh the excitement!
Saturday morning...what was left of it, I wrote out a rough. Well, technically it was the rough's rough. The beginning of the part where you begin to get your ideas together. I'm not sure it qualified as a rough draft. Well then to clear my head, I did some laundry and ate something then got back at it. And sketched out a few arguments and started getting the general gist of it.
A scant five hours later I'd finally finished. The rough. Okay, there was a nap in there somewhere and I cleaned up the house a little, but I was feeling like I'd accomplished something. So when my RP called about the Urban Soul pool party I played hooky for a hot minute. And yes, I put the laptop in the trunk.
The party was sparse, but good. People actually got in the pool! At most parties I go to the pool is really more of a decorative item or theme piece than an activity. But I hung for a couple of hours and then took it to the house. Feeling good about the world I found then I made a horrible mistake. No, I hadn't erased anything or done the wrong assignment, but I converted my work so far into the proper format for submission to see how far along I was. The paper had to be three pages. Because I'd used a smaller font and spacing, I somehow typed up nearly four pages. Neat. Great. Whatever. I said fuck it and went to bed.
So Sunday was editing day. Plus my professor had told us this neat co-inky dink where on some printers the document printed out correctly, and others it the lines per page didn't sync between screen and paper. So we might have to jerry-rig something in a bad printing situation. So I edited this, and removed that and looked how to do this again, when around 3pm my RP calls. He's been an attorney for over a decade. His advice? Stop working on it. According to him, no matter what I turn in they're going to turn it to mincemeat. It's part of the process. Tear you down to build you back up in their image. Yada yada yada.
He couldn't have told me this Saturday?
Monday was a holiday. Oooh yeah. First time in a while that I've had a day devoted to nothing. I re-read my assignment again and got my stuff together, looked over my other homework, did more laundry , and then I um...went shopping for Sporty's birthday.
Yeah. So what?
Nothing extravagant. Not the custom action figure of her I was thinking about having made. Not a bevy of the graphic tees she loves from the web. Not the over the top home flower delivery (she loves tulips). Not the one of the many "other items" I was considering ...as far back as May. Last year.
And it's called taking an interest, thank you! My emotions are merely... misdirected... at the moment.
In any case I did that down in Little Five Points, the ATL's little bohemian corner, among the nick-nak shops and record stores then called it a day. And fell asleep again on the couch at 9pm. Thank god I hadn't put the steak in the oven.
On the plus side I did wake up and actually get out of bed at 6am! One day down...four years to go!
Barkeep, Wheat juice with a carrot chaser! and a shot of B12!
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