Ramblings Post #1
It's a new year and I'm changing the title of the posts that don't directly deal my issues in relationships or about relationships, or anything like that into my brand new category - ramblings from the mental broom closet, which aptly enough is right down here on the dark end of the bar. Damned convienent. Or Ramblings because I really don't feel like typing all that out every time. Well, here goes.
I've been trying to do one of those self portraits lately. The ones where you hold your arm out with the camera, snap a photo of your mug and it comes back looking like your stylist did an extra good job. My shots look like I'm someone's perverted uncle or should avoid church towers or dark spooky castles lest I be pressed into service.
Or so I think.
I've been told I have soulful eyes. I've been looking in a mirror lately. Maybe she needed glasses.
Okay, there are days I think I'm not doing too bad. True I need to get back in the gym or on the track, but this first year of school has been hell on my schedule. It's not crazy bad because my pants are still falling off my shrinking ass, indicating what little rear I did have may be leaving. And trust me, my ass is spectacular.
I was home over the holidays and my father - who thinking of engaging in a new career in public speaking - was able to take self portraits that didn't look half bad. My father who I think can now actually legally be considered elderly is able to shoot the cool self shots and I can't. What the hell is going on here? What about that picture - or mental image - just doesn't sound right.
The real issue that we, or rather I, normally do not see myself. There is the glance in the mirror in morning as a brush the teeth or comb the hair, but not the scrutiny of others observations. So seeing the shape of my own head form a different angle, the idea that no I do not look quite like I imagined is actually slightly disturbing. I could have sworn I looked better than that. It's got to be the lighting.
Or my camera. Cause it damn sure ain't me.
Cause I am good looking.
My momma told me I was. And my mother wouldn't lie to me. So there.
Barkeep. Let me a have a tall mango juice with a strawberry blend.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Monday, January 12, 2009
I Got Extras!
Vent Post #3
The following is a vent post, where for the purposes of venting some frustrations I will roll over a point in my mind that strikes me as silly and rant over it for a few lines. Breathe it. And for the sake of argument and in the interest of full disclosure, they'll usually be directed at one of the great mysteries of my life: women. If I happen to step on a metaphorical toe, it might means your mental feet aren't where you thought they were.
So Slim, who I hadn't spoken to in a minute calls with what else - man problems. All my women friends appear to have these issues with the men they choose, but Slim's seem to currently be more pronounced than the rest. Though Spanky is giving her a good run for her money.
So in the course of the chat Slim tells me that one point when the guy was supposed to call and didn't or sent a text for like the 100th time that day (damn an unlimited plan!) that she had left the country. Curious I asked and she told me she'd gone to Cozumel, Mexico for the New Year. Wowzers. She's going at it Big time. Then she hits me with that statement I hate:
"I had an extra ticket. I should have called you."
How do you have an extra ticket to Cozumel? You have an extra ticket to the movies. You occasionally have and extra ticket to a concert. You got extra coupons all the time. But an extra ticket to Mexico? Okay once in college someone had an extra ticket to Paris that could have been mine if they had known I was in town, but ...oh, never mind, but anyway, I told her I was going to pretend that she didn't just say that.
How do you have an extra ticket to a resort? That bugged me so much. I didn't bring it up again in the phone call, but that really really bugged me. Really.
I mean it bugged the shit out me.
A free ticket to Cozumel? I mean I know me and Slim ain't like that, but we're both grown. We could have shared a room for a week and nothing would have happened. Or I could have scooped a room when I was down there. I'm broke but ain't nobody that broke. I mean damn. Okay if she cooks - oddly for vegetarian she cooks meat all the time - if she cooks she will call for me to get a plate, so I shouldn't be complaining.
I shouldn't but I am. Cozu-freaking-mel? As much as need a vacation too? I only had how much time off?
I wish I was drinking.
Bartender, how about a big vanilla shake. Extra whipped creme.
The following is a vent post, where for the purposes of venting some frustrations I will roll over a point in my mind that strikes me as silly and rant over it for a few lines. Breathe it. And for the sake of argument and in the interest of full disclosure, they'll usually be directed at one of the great mysteries of my life: women. If I happen to step on a metaphorical toe, it might means your mental feet aren't where you thought they were.
So Slim, who I hadn't spoken to in a minute calls with what else - man problems. All my women friends appear to have these issues with the men they choose, but Slim's seem to currently be more pronounced than the rest. Though Spanky is giving her a good run for her money.
So in the course of the chat Slim tells me that one point when the guy was supposed to call and didn't or sent a text for like the 100th time that day (damn an unlimited plan!) that she had left the country. Curious I asked and she told me she'd gone to Cozumel, Mexico for the New Year. Wowzers. She's going at it Big time. Then she hits me with that statement I hate:
"I had an extra ticket. I should have called you."
How do you have an extra ticket to Cozumel? You have an extra ticket to the movies. You occasionally have and extra ticket to a concert. You got extra coupons all the time. But an extra ticket to Mexico? Okay once in college someone had an extra ticket to Paris that could have been mine if they had known I was in town, but ...oh, never mind, but anyway, I told her I was going to pretend that she didn't just say that.
How do you have an extra ticket to a resort? That bugged me so much. I didn't bring it up again in the phone call, but that really really bugged me. Really.
I mean it bugged the shit out me.
A free ticket to Cozumel? I mean I know me and Slim ain't like that, but we're both grown. We could have shared a room for a week and nothing would have happened. Or I could have scooped a room when I was down there. I'm broke but ain't nobody that broke. I mean damn. Okay if she cooks - oddly for vegetarian she cooks meat all the time - if she cooks she will call for me to get a plate, so I shouldn't be complaining.
I shouldn't but I am. Cozu-freaking-mel? As much as need a vacation too? I only had how much time off?
I wish I was drinking.
Bartender, how about a big vanilla shake. Extra whipped creme.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
The Office Moguls - Part 2
Mental Rehab Post #48
Before the madness of school kicks back in, and this becomes a virtual montage of griping about having no free time and I can't believe they want us to do all that, I gonna halfway empty my mind (partially to make space) and because the foolishness around me just won't end.
"My new plan is to make 3% per day."
This is an actual statement made by one of my co-workers, one of the new age super day traders who apparently don't actually read the finance pages. Makes you wonder what the hell the old plan was, because this is his revised low key edition. The "office moguls" lately have been lamenting so lesser than stellar portfolio performances, and the talk is now a bit more subdued. One almost hopes they'll reconsider and actually start doing their jobs.
The three percent per day plan is leaps and bounds past what Ponzi master Bernie Madoff was selling, and if you could make 3% a day trading stocks reliably the term "finance guru" would be used to describe the people who listened to the guy who washed your Porsches on Thursdays. The guy who washed the Ferraris on Friday would be an actual financial genius. It's like they don't understand math.
I'm not against the dream. I told my older brother years ago that we obviously had no real desire to "get rich," as we both knew how to do it but were chasing other endeavors. But even the methods we were aware of involved hard work, research, dedication and time. My question to the office moguls is, if it was so easy just trading stock part time...then why isn't everyone doing it? Do they think they've discovered something or realized something nobody else knows? I like to think of it like Texas Hold'em poker. For a hot minute everyone was playing, then suddenly it was over. And since the market really is a big casino - I won't even get into that - this really is a form of gambling. Which is worse.
Also, my brother got a guitar for Christmas and I'm almost certain his acoustic album will be out next winter, so look for it.
Now my favorite of the office moguls didn't even understand that trades have to settle before he can use that money to buy a new stock until last week or so. He really didn't get it that when they confirm a sell order it doesn't mean that stock sold at that very second and money changed hands. He did it on the internet ya know, and if it happened on the internet it must have been instant, he's sure, and they're just holding his money to spite him. Yet he KNOWS he can make 1% per day for a few years. The 3% claim is from the guy who advises my favorite mogul, and also invests. They're a matched set.
All I can say is that somebody better save Social Security, because these folks are gonna need it.
Barkeep, I'll have a smoothie with that B-12 kick, my friends here will need something stronger.
Before the madness of school kicks back in, and this becomes a virtual montage of griping about having no free time and I can't believe they want us to do all that, I gonna halfway empty my mind (partially to make space) and because the foolishness around me just won't end.
"My new plan is to make 3% per day."
This is an actual statement made by one of my co-workers, one of the new age super day traders who apparently don't actually read the finance pages. Makes you wonder what the hell the old plan was, because this is his revised low key edition. The "office moguls" lately have been lamenting so lesser than stellar portfolio performances, and the talk is now a bit more subdued. One almost hopes they'll reconsider and actually start doing their jobs.
The three percent per day plan is leaps and bounds past what Ponzi master Bernie Madoff was selling, and if you could make 3% a day trading stocks reliably the term "finance guru" would be used to describe the people who listened to the guy who washed your Porsches on Thursdays. The guy who washed the Ferraris on Friday would be an actual financial genius. It's like they don't understand math.
I'm not against the dream. I told my older brother years ago that we obviously had no real desire to "get rich," as we both knew how to do it but were chasing other endeavors. But even the methods we were aware of involved hard work, research, dedication and time. My question to the office moguls is, if it was so easy just trading stock part time...then why isn't everyone doing it? Do they think they've discovered something or realized something nobody else knows? I like to think of it like Texas Hold'em poker. For a hot minute everyone was playing, then suddenly it was over. And since the market really is a big casino - I won't even get into that - this really is a form of gambling. Which is worse.
Also, my brother got a guitar for Christmas and I'm almost certain his acoustic album will be out next winter, so look for it.
Now my favorite of the office moguls didn't even understand that trades have to settle before he can use that money to buy a new stock until last week or so. He really didn't get it that when they confirm a sell order it doesn't mean that stock sold at that very second and money changed hands. He did it on the internet ya know, and if it happened on the internet it must have been instant, he's sure, and they're just holding his money to spite him. Yet he KNOWS he can make 1% per day for a few years. The 3% claim is from the guy who advises my favorite mogul, and also invests. They're a matched set.
All I can say is that somebody better save Social Security, because these folks are gonna need it.
Barkeep, I'll have a smoothie with that B-12 kick, my friends here will need something stronger.
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
The Truth shall set you free
Mental Rehab Post #47
There things you don't realize you can't do until you try to do them. I know I'm not a great dancer because well, I've tried. I can move to the beat, in a crowd, and once took ballroom dancing lessons. But I'm not a middle of the dance floor, "hey watch this", dancing with stars wanna-be type of cat. And then I realized something else.
I can't do days off
This past year was an odd year for me. The holiday season year afforded me the longest stretch of off time in nearly six years. I had nine days total - five days after Christmas and four days after New Years. I spent Christmas with the family, but New Years was right here in Atlanta.
I don't know if I can ever do that again.
Sporty used to razz me about vacation time. She utilized hers to the fullest when we worked at the same company, but she knew I never used any of mine. Any. A quick look in the system today, courtesy of a person who formerly worked personnel, showed that since 2003 I've taken only 15 days. That would 5 days in 2005 for a car accident, and 10 days this year mostly for school. Yeah, in 2004, 2006, and 2007...I took no days off. Zero. Nada. Zilch.
That means for roughly 1320 days -the six years I've been here - I've taken off 15 or 0.0113 percent. I would be at work 98.8% of the time.
Sporty may have been right. I may have forgotten how to vacation.
Given all that time off, I woke up one day at three in the afternoon. I played video games until sunrise the night before because I didn't have to get up for work. I ate snacks and lunch meat sandwiches, because with the exception of Spanky telling me she was going to run through, I didn't want to be bothered to heat up the stove. I relished any function that got me out of the house because it gave me direction and something to do.
Maybe I'm just not a self starter.
Okay, I used to imagine vacations with well, you know who, where we would travel and do things, vacation type things, but now I wonder if I could manage free time like that. And if that isn't a troubling statement, I don't know what is.
Barkeep...I'm getting back on the smoothies! Let me get that Pineapple with Passion fruit.
There things you don't realize you can't do until you try to do them. I know I'm not a great dancer because well, I've tried. I can move to the beat, in a crowd, and once took ballroom dancing lessons. But I'm not a middle of the dance floor, "hey watch this", dancing with stars wanna-be type of cat. And then I realized something else.
I can't do days off
This past year was an odd year for me. The holiday season year afforded me the longest stretch of off time in nearly six years. I had nine days total - five days after Christmas and four days after New Years. I spent Christmas with the family, but New Years was right here in Atlanta.
I don't know if I can ever do that again.
Sporty used to razz me about vacation time. She utilized hers to the fullest when we worked at the same company, but she knew I never used any of mine. Any. A quick look in the system today, courtesy of a person who formerly worked personnel, showed that since 2003 I've taken only 15 days. That would 5 days in 2005 for a car accident, and 10 days this year mostly for school. Yeah, in 2004, 2006, and 2007...I took no days off. Zero. Nada. Zilch.
That means for roughly 1320 days -the six years I've been here - I've taken off 15 or 0.0113 percent. I would be at work 98.8% of the time.
Sporty may have been right. I may have forgotten how to vacation.
Given all that time off, I woke up one day at three in the afternoon. I played video games until sunrise the night before because I didn't have to get up for work. I ate snacks and lunch meat sandwiches, because with the exception of Spanky telling me she was going to run through, I didn't want to be bothered to heat up the stove. I relished any function that got me out of the house because it gave me direction and something to do.
Maybe I'm just not a self starter.
Okay, I used to imagine vacations with well, you know who, where we would travel and do things, vacation type things, but now I wonder if I could manage free time like that. And if that isn't a troubling statement, I don't know what is.
Barkeep...I'm getting back on the smoothies! Let me get that Pineapple with Passion fruit.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
New Year - Same Stuff
Mental Rehab Post #46
At this time of year we tend to look forward to better tomorrows, usually to find that by mid-February that the days look just like the ones from last year, and that health club membership doesn't work because they don't have the ice cream and that exercise machine is misnamed because you still have to the exercise yourself. But this year I'm not worried. Because I won't have time.
The first grub of 2009
I eschewed my traditional first meal at the Waffle House - a long standing tradition going back 20 years - and instead, er...stayed home. It was freaking Wednesday night! Seriously I was not feeling it. I had tickets to the thing at Utopia, could have gotten in at the Fox, knew of at least two house parties but instead just turned on the lap top and a got at it.
It being Grand Theft Auto IV for the PC. I've been playing for the past three weeks since school started and will have to stop when school starts, barring the occasionally need to vent frustration. I had heard horrible stories about the PC port - but mine runs great. I figured out that the folks complaining are the most part mad that that can't dial up the detail to "awe-inspiring" and have to settle for plain ole "incredible".
Now around 10pm New Year's Eve, Spanky calls up and asks me to bake biscuits for breakfast. She and a friend who is a model are going to hang out but will stop by after for eats and on the phone they plead with me to cook. I reluctantly agree and thus ring in the New Year on the stove. I know exactly how fast a New Year's party can break up once the clock is hit, so I go through my shelves and put out a pretty nice spread - Fried some fish, grits, hash browns, sausage, bacon, egg, the biscuits and I am getting into it. Man I love cooking.
But one comes and no phone call saying they're on the way. Then two comes. And three. Here is where I get pissed.
Spanky shows the next AFTERNOON hungry. Alone so I don't even get to meet the model friend.
Spanky is on my less than happy list.
I spend most of Thursday and Friday playing GTA. Per the game I'm now at Fiend addiction level. The game don't know me. I'm geeking out something fierce.
Saturday is the Pajama party. The less said about that the better. The phrase I'm going to use is the ratio was wrong for conducive good times. The reality is that it was becoming a "hard leg" convention. They're were a couple of stunners, dont' get me wrong - but PJs tend to not have pockets and if you've ever been separated from your keys for a long period of time.
And that was it for the break.
The second semester starts Jan 5th, and that good feeling I had when I walked out the finals will evaporate into a haze of I could have sworn I knew what I was doing. I find it funny how fast my brain just clicked back over when I logged in to make sure my financial aid was in line, my classes were straight and what I needed to read for the first day. I'm hoping my brain continues on this line as I get deeper into the process.
Well Barkeep...You know what time it is. Sweet Tea and slice of lemon.
At this time of year we tend to look forward to better tomorrows, usually to find that by mid-February that the days look just like the ones from last year, and that health club membership doesn't work because they don't have the ice cream and that exercise machine is misnamed because you still have to the exercise yourself. But this year I'm not worried. Because I won't have time.
The first grub of 2009I eschewed my traditional first meal at the Waffle House - a long standing tradition going back 20 years - and instead, er...stayed home. It was freaking Wednesday night! Seriously I was not feeling it. I had tickets to the thing at Utopia, could have gotten in at the Fox, knew of at least two house parties but instead just turned on the lap top and a got at it.
It being Grand Theft Auto IV for the PC. I've been playing for the past three weeks since school started and will have to stop when school starts, barring the occasionally need to vent frustration. I had heard horrible stories about the PC port - but mine runs great. I figured out that the folks complaining are the most part mad that that can't dial up the detail to "awe-inspiring" and have to settle for plain ole "incredible".
Now around 10pm New Year's Eve, Spanky calls up and asks me to bake biscuits for breakfast. She and a friend who is a model are going to hang out but will stop by after for eats and on the phone they plead with me to cook. I reluctantly agree and thus ring in the New Year on the stove. I know exactly how fast a New Year's party can break up once the clock is hit, so I go through my shelves and put out a pretty nice spread - Fried some fish, grits, hash browns, sausage, bacon, egg, the biscuits and I am getting into it. Man I love cooking.
But one comes and no phone call saying they're on the way. Then two comes. And three. Here is where I get pissed.
Spanky shows the next AFTERNOON hungry. Alone so I don't even get to meet the model friend.
Spanky is on my less than happy list.
I spend most of Thursday and Friday playing GTA. Per the game I'm now at Fiend addiction level. The game don't know me. I'm geeking out something fierce.
Saturday is the Pajama party. The less said about that the better. The phrase I'm going to use is the ratio was wrong for conducive good times. The reality is that it was becoming a "hard leg" convention. They're were a couple of stunners, dont' get me wrong - but PJs tend to not have pockets and if you've ever been separated from your keys for a long period of time.
And that was it for the break.
The second semester starts Jan 5th, and that good feeling I had when I walked out the finals will evaporate into a haze of I could have sworn I knew what I was doing. I find it funny how fast my brain just clicked back over when I logged in to make sure my financial aid was in line, my classes were straight and what I needed to read for the first day. I'm hoping my brain continues on this line as I get deeper into the process.
Well Barkeep...You know what time it is. Sweet Tea and slice of lemon.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
What I learned 2008
Our current President for the next few weeks said when they realized the economy was taking a bad turn that we'd just hit a rough patch. Well, quite frankly for me, all of 2008 was a rough patch. A whole lot of things I didn't think would happen occured, a few things I didn't want to happen took place, and a few turns I never intended to take got, well...tooken. No, there isn't a better word for that. With any luck...okay, let's be honest, it can't get too much worse without hospital time...with any luck, 2009 will be much better. My horoscope even said so!
Love is hope.
More times than you know you'll have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again. So get ready.
Every ache and every pain means something.
Just when you thought you knew, you don't.
People give advice for a reason. Most times it's because they see things you don't.
I'm beginning to think God really doesn't like me.
Little things lead to big things. Occasionally it just takes a while to get there.
Real Love doesn't ever end. Ever. You might be able to hold it in, but's always there.
Every relative older than me I've known my whole life. This one I had to think about.
Just because you think it's impossible, that doesn't mean it can't happen.
No lie hurts worse than the one you've told to yourself.
You don't have to take every opportunity, but you can't miss them all either. Regret is hell.
There is a point you realize all your dreams aren't going to come true, and that its okay. I'm not there yet.
It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all is a very stupid concept.
Vanilla ice cream. Sometimes you have to get back to the basics to appreciate the complex.
My passions scare me with their intensity.
Swagger is a lot more important than you think.
Love is hope.
More times than you know you'll have to pick yourself up, dust yourself off and start all over again. So get ready.
Every ache and every pain means something.
Just when you thought you knew, you don't.
People give advice for a reason. Most times it's because they see things you don't.
I'm beginning to think God really doesn't like me.
Little things lead to big things. Occasionally it just takes a while to get there.
Real Love doesn't ever end. Ever. You might be able to hold it in, but's always there.
Every relative older than me I've known my whole life. This one I had to think about.
Just because you think it's impossible, that doesn't mean it can't happen.
No lie hurts worse than the one you've told to yourself.
You don't have to take every opportunity, but you can't miss them all either. Regret is hell.
There is a point you realize all your dreams aren't going to come true, and that its okay. I'm not there yet.
It's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all is a very stupid concept.
Vanilla ice cream. Sometimes you have to get back to the basics to appreciate the complex.
My passions scare me with their intensity.
Swagger is a lot more important than you think.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)