(no subject)
Well, I think next week is going to quite the busy thing. Rumor has it that I might possibly be working all of seven days. I can't say I'm disappointed, as I missed a shift this week due to conflicting work schedules.
I subtlety introduced myself to our new tenant. She's...27, I think, and most certainly a step up from our previous rather tentative space-filler. I guess it was rude to casually walk by our laundry machine while she was doing her laundry. But then, when have I ever been politically correct?
Bah...I'm rambling. In truth, I don't have a whole lot to write about right now. I guess I could meander along the fine line between fact and fiction. Maybe I could write a scathing review of the latest pop-trash-NASA-voice-edited-crapola that is being spewed out of the radio at work. Maybe I could immerse myself in poetry and convey my deepest and most vague emotions as shadow puppets on bedtime walls. Perhaps I should not even write at all. Scratch that last option.
I went to the gym last night, although it was slightly different. I brought along a friend of mine. I insisted she came. (Hmm actually I didn't, although I would have if there was apprehension) It felt kind of funny: working out in front of the opposite sex, mainly because it was someone I knew. It's hard to describe really. So in complete rebellion of my previous habit of trying to over-explain things to the point of obscurity, I'll just shutup about it. I'll let you decide and not give you any preconceived notions as to the nature of the oddity. EH?
Although I am probably going to be scheduled for all 7 days next week, I MIGHT get one day off. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten and guarantee time will be made. Bah...no guarantees. It WILL be made. Don't worry...worry.
I sometimes worry, or at least I used to. I used to worry that if I wasn't spending 110% of the time furthering my endeavors that I would be failing. It's similar to an old friend of mine's analogy that if you aren't working when you can be, you're losing money. I don't necessarily agree with that philosophy, although I tend to relate to the principles of it. I think I've learned to regress more so now though. I can just kind of let things...slide. The cares of the world don't always need my shepherd's hand tending them to prevent decay. It's kind of nice. I like being able to leave an unfinished cup of coffee (proverbial--everyone knows I hate it) and come back in a month or so to find it warm and enriched.
I must get up at 6:30 tomorrow. I'll have 1 cup of oatmeal (dry), a protein shake, a piece of fruit and it will be like any other day. This is discipline.
I subtlety introduced myself to our new tenant. She's...27, I think, and most certainly a step up from our previous rather tentative space-filler. I guess it was rude to casually walk by our laundry machine while she was doing her laundry. But then, when have I ever been politically correct?
Bah...I'm rambling. In truth, I don't have a whole lot to write about right now. I guess I could meander along the fine line between fact and fiction. Maybe I could write a scathing review of the latest pop-trash-NASA-voice-edited-crapola that is being spewed out of the radio at work. Maybe I could immerse myself in poetry and convey my deepest and most vague emotions as shadow puppets on bedtime walls. Perhaps I should not even write at all. Scratch that last option.
I went to the gym last night, although it was slightly different. I brought along a friend of mine. I insisted she came. (Hmm actually I didn't, although I would have if there was apprehension) It felt kind of funny: working out in front of the opposite sex, mainly because it was someone I knew. It's hard to describe really. So in complete rebellion of my previous habit of trying to over-explain things to the point of obscurity, I'll just shutup about it. I'll let you decide and not give you any preconceived notions as to the nature of the oddity. EH?
Although I am probably going to be scheduled for all 7 days next week, I MIGHT get one day off. Don't worry. I haven't forgotten and guarantee time will be made. Bah...no guarantees. It WILL be made. Don't worry...worry.
I sometimes worry, or at least I used to. I used to worry that if I wasn't spending 110% of the time furthering my endeavors that I would be failing. It's similar to an old friend of mine's analogy that if you aren't working when you can be, you're losing money. I don't necessarily agree with that philosophy, although I tend to relate to the principles of it. I think I've learned to regress more so now though. I can just kind of let things...slide. The cares of the world don't always need my shepherd's hand tending them to prevent decay. It's kind of nice. I like being able to leave an unfinished cup of coffee (proverbial--everyone knows I hate it) and come back in a month or so to find it warm and enriched.
I must get up at 6:30 tomorrow. I'll have 1 cup of oatmeal (dry), a protein shake, a piece of fruit and it will be like any other day. This is discipline.