ages

so it's been ages since i wrote. i feel ages older. But i'm not looking back -and perhaps, neither should you.

my predicament now is school and work. It's a combo.
Now, Gentle Reader, you may wonder, what is the problem? You enjoy your job, do you not? You're not in school are you? Right on both counts you most attentive reader.

Sooo without divulging too much information, let's just say that i don't have letters after my name and so i can never be the boss. Proposals won't list me as running the show without a license and "IIDA" on my business cards -though i'm perfectly capable of doing so -and have done in the past.

This, shall we say, perturbs me. To be presented as a CAD monkey, the lowest of the low. To be brought down to the same level as the newbie after 7 years of experience. All this, kind reader, sort of piles up on a gal.

And now you may be asking, why don't you just go out and fetch some letters of your own? To that i say, if only it were that easy. Despite already having 4 years of a 5.5 years master degree, i cannot find a single university in the commonwealth of Virginia or the District of Columbia who are willing to let me finish this degree. One illustrious university who shall remain nameless has graciously decided to consider my FOUR YEARS OF MASTERS DEGREE WORK as a second undergraduate degree. They'll let me take their masters program, of course, in it's entirety, start to finish.

Huh.

Well that's a screamin' good deal and not at all a smack across my academic face. What's worse is if i had another 20K$ hanging about i might consider taking the tossers up on it. I'd throw aside another 2.5 years of my already dominated-by-entirely-too-much-schooling life and finish the fucker.

But i don't have 20K$. I'm still paying off the first four years of masters work.

And so i'm screwed. The only letters i can add will be LEED-AP. Hoopie do. Do any of you (soon to be) faithful readers fail to see the problem inherent in the system? If you have a solution to this most perplexing conundrum i would love to read it.

cheers,
D

sorry

i say this a lot.


i can't possibly be wrong as often as i say it.

good day

i'm so sad that you weren't here with me.

I got to have one of those tough 'you're royally screwing this up' conversations with an engineer. I even got the boss' permission to threaten firing the guy.

For a non-confrontational gal such as myself, these conversations are more than a bit trying.

But you would be proud. I gave him a polite what-for. I didn't back down, i didn't do anything that would make me feel like i needed a shower afterward. I presented my points, sternly but professionally. And his reply - silence. As MB said, you can't defend an argument when there's no argument for your defense.

So there, i had a nice big professional how-do-you-do and i won.

tuesdays

i was told to go drinking tomorrow night.


so i will.

saving me

tonight writing about dead kids and raining in baltimore are saving me. i think i could do this all night.


i might need to

- -

i was trying to sort something out today. something i've been thinking about for quite a while now. often the answer begins with a more well defined query. today i realized something that might just help.

i have been trying to suss out why i get so bored.

i've been bitching and moaning about this terrible ennui which has afflicted every fiber of my being. i like to think i'm a happy person but often i find, not so much. that's not fun. it's not the way to go through life. what if i only get one? i don't want to spend it bored. i want to spend it creative, drunk, in love and crazy. a previous post states my 'make your own happy' motto, if you will. i really do believe this. and of course all that bitching means i'm owning up to the fact that i hadn't sorted that bit out.

still, recognizing what i must do does not explain why i take such issue with boredom. it's should be a non-issue should it not?

but it's not the boredom that i can't bear. it's nothing. it's feeling nothing. it's like feeling pain is preferable to nothing. does that sound like a problem?

and i have an addiction. that first moment. that moment right before the first kiss. the first touch. unknowing hands. butterflies everywhere. just thinking about that... that's all i need. some folks need to jump off a bridge on a bunji, some folks need porn. all i need is that new moment.

maybe it's the butterflies that i am so in love with.

refrigerator poetry

smooth the bitter whisper of death
with the easy language of skin and sweat

morals: friend or foe?

in an effort to prepare for an impending debate, lets discuss society's innate, unspoken, unenforcable (mostly) rules: morals.

Issue #1: Defense for cowardice. This one is fact. but is it the dominant pro argument?

Issue #2: Do unto others. i think this is the one i buy into most. it does make one massive assumption: that others feel the same as i do. If wouldn't want my ass grabbed by some guy, i shouldn't grab some guys ass. Wrong. What is said guy doesn't mind? In fact, he might dig it. hm. at a basic level, this one is true 99% of the time isn't it? i wouldn't like to be stabbed in the back, therefore...

Issue #3: The hereafter. i'm not sure i'm qualified to tackle this one. lots of those same people who dig this item also think that child molester down the street can repent in his last minute and go hang out with my grandma and St. Peter.

Issue #4: Protection. Let me clarify. by that i mean morals are maybe meant to protect you from yourself. quite often, doing whatever one likes, can put one in unfortunate positions

Issue #5: ya hurt the ones you love. morals are supposed to stop that. right?

i'm sure there are more. lemme think about it. anyone else?

you know what's not fun?

it's not fun when you know you're not good at your job.

it's more not fun when you don't particuarly like your job.

luckily for me the better i get at my job, the less i have to do it.

whew.

Track 12, Special Reserve

makes me want to turn up the bass, turn down the lights and light up a joint. And of course, dance real slow.

A sure sign of good tunage is that you can't keep your head/hips still when listening.

My friend Stella

She's keeping me company for now, but disappearing fast.

What's that you say? you don't know Stella? She and i go way back. A dear friend in Boston introduced me to her. At a tiny little bar called Bukowskis. Truly.

Annnnnyway. I had a fucking monday.


Thank goodness for Tuesday. Tuesday might make up for this shitastic Monday. And actually, via email, i just discovered that Tuesday might be outstanding in that capacity.

i have something exciting & new to read, so off i go.

The Selfish Giant

Shockingly, J cannot abide this film.

Off topic: i had suuuuuuuch a stupid day today. One of those days where you turn away from a conversation and on the walking away think 'good lord, i AM such a twit'.

Ugh.

So, the more i watch Stephen Fry the more i'm convinced that i have known several hetero- or bi-sexual incarnations of Mr. Wilde, over the years. Every one of them insanely tempting, madly intrigueing. So what does that make me?

Yoga - let's discuss

Hop in cold car.
Sit in traffic.
Drool over dark blue Cayman S.
Sit in traffic.
Park in lot several miles from home so hubby can have nice front door parking spot for monster truck.
Walk dogs until hands freeze and nose falls off -and still dogs aren't 'finished'.
Turn on giant television size of, well, me, intending to flick on yoga dvd. when -gasp- what to my wondering eyes does appear? Why it's Food Network in HD.

So i sit here thinking, gotta go get on the yoga gear and pull out the mat -and pull down the shades, STAT. Then i thought, uuuug, yoga pants, what the f* was wrong with the person or persons behind yoga pants? Synapses misfired in a fairly severe way my friends.

"I know! I know! If these twits are going to be turning themselves into human crazy straws in an effort to lengthen and strengthen, I say we complete the scene."

That's when yoga pants were invented. Sewiously. [in my best Homestar voice which isn't very good at all]. If you're doing yoga, it's most assuredly NOT because you already look like Heidi Klum. So why oh why would you make pants out of SPANDEX? I don't care if it's disguised with cotton so it looks all soft and fuzzy. Or like mine where they added flared legs like trendy jeans. You can't fool me. It still grabs your ass like a misbehavin' prom date. Ug.

Damn. Now Good Eats is on. And i have to go don spandex pants and a tiny tank?? You have got to be kidding me.