W/Wings
136 weeks past is 136 too many.
I was perusing through Livejournal catching up on some friends' lives and realized there aren't many people left posting on this thing. This community. You'd think I'd have something to show for that great a passage of time.
136 weeks has ushered in our digital era. The moment after meeting someone they are Googled and searched for on Myspace and Facebook. Remember Friendster? Born and buried in 136 weeks.
I'm afraid to see what I wrote two, three, four years ago. I did look at my profile in its current state of obsolescence (SP?) and I plan on spiffying that up soon. Hardly anything on it is true anymore. This layout was never mine. Michelle Reed did it for me, I lent her my password. She's a cupcake, that girl.
I think I must have been about six years old (in the memory I'm going to recall). I was standing on a stool to reach over the kitchen sink with a can of frozen orange juice concentrate. I got it open and I knew that in order to make the juice you had to add water to it. The faucet water was hot and it sure did melt the orange juice, but I had forgotten one crucial ingredient.. a FUCKING pitcher. So I watched the block of juice melt away and I felt that awful rush of feelings ( that I wish I could feel all at once again) of sadness, anger and confusion. Over some orange juice. Your mistake David, is that you had all the tools at your disposal, all the makings of a refreshing drink packed with vitamins, and you pissed it down the drain. Don't let it happen again.
January is a dead wintry month. To me, the month is to remind me there's more stars than people and to count my blessings. So, for a salesperson, the month is devoid of sales. I worked the closing shift with an older man, Dominic, and he recounted this amazing story about a conference he went to where he'd organized this dinner party for 80+ people to Medieval Times in Orlando, Florida. He told me all about this wild conference, running a booth, giving presentations, nights in the hot tub, and then he mentioned that this was the place he'd met his wife. I saw a glimmer in his eye. I thought he'd been telling me something that had happened last week! He was telling me about 1986. I realized that to him, it could have been yesterday.
I was perusing through Livejournal catching up on some friends' lives and realized there aren't many people left posting on this thing. This community. You'd think I'd have something to show for that great a passage of time.
136 weeks has ushered in our digital era. The moment after meeting someone they are Googled and searched for on Myspace and Facebook. Remember Friendster? Born and buried in 136 weeks.
I'm afraid to see what I wrote two, three, four years ago. I did look at my profile in its current state of obsolescence (SP?) and I plan on spiffying that up soon. Hardly anything on it is true anymore. This layout was never mine. Michelle Reed did it for me, I lent her my password. She's a cupcake, that girl.
I think I must have been about six years old (in the memory I'm going to recall). I was standing on a stool to reach over the kitchen sink with a can of frozen orange juice concentrate. I got it open and I knew that in order to make the juice you had to add water to it. The faucet water was hot and it sure did melt the orange juice, but I had forgotten one crucial ingredient.. a FUCKING pitcher. So I watched the block of juice melt away and I felt that awful rush of feelings ( that I wish I could feel all at once again) of sadness, anger and confusion. Over some orange juice. Your mistake David, is that you had all the tools at your disposal, all the makings of a refreshing drink packed with vitamins, and you pissed it down the drain. Don't let it happen again.
January is a dead wintry month. To me, the month is to remind me there's more stars than people and to count my blessings. So, for a salesperson, the month is devoid of sales. I worked the closing shift with an older man, Dominic, and he recounted this amazing story about a conference he went to where he'd organized this dinner party for 80+ people to Medieval Times in Orlando, Florida. He told me all about this wild conference, running a booth, giving presentations, nights in the hot tub, and then he mentioned that this was the place he'd met his wife. I saw a glimmer in his eye. I thought he'd been telling me something that had happened last week! He was telling me about 1986. I realized that to him, it could have been yesterday.