Burning crotch...
...yes, now I know the pain felt by that oh so clever woman who made millions off of the Golden Arches. In what turned out to be not one of my best moments, I spilled half a cup of scalding coffee on my lap while driving. My leg hurts like hell, and I'm pretty sure my penis never wants to talk to me again. I suppose I wouldn't talk to someone who dumped scalding liquid on me, so I guess I can relate.
Just finished the third season of West Wing DVDs. I can't describe how much I love that show, but I am always a little depressed when I watch it. This depression has two reasons. First of all, it is depressing that those in our government are not of the same quality as those portrayed on the show, and they really should be. The second source of depression is that it always makes me acutely aware of how little I do with my own life. Nothing that I do has anywhere near the importance of the issues that truly matter in this world. I have been at 84 for almost a year now and I have decided enough is enough. I am working on my resume and I am looking for a job that I can care about. I hereby declare these past 12 months "The Lost Year" and I hope to never have another. Many things in my life are going well, but I fear that I shall soon ruin them by letting my unhappiness with work poison them.
New topic: The lack of communication with those I used to call friend.
I find it odd that while the old gang was all in the small world of Z-ville, we talked on LJ and IM almost constantly, but now that we are all spread out, to Columbus, Pennsylvania, and now D.C., that we now never use this excellent method of keeping in touch across far distances. Of course, these very facts mean that most of the people I am now addressing won't even read this anyway, as will be born out by the small amount of comments this entry will no doubt produce. I guess I will just end by addressing all of those aforementioned non-readers by saying that I still miss you all dearly, and I wish we hadn't all lost touch as much as we have. That being said, it is a two-way road and I am as guilty as everyone else of letting things go. Kelly turned out to be a little too accurate when describing how friendships are largely based on convenience.
Just finished the third season of West Wing DVDs. I can't describe how much I love that show, but I am always a little depressed when I watch it. This depression has two reasons. First of all, it is depressing that those in our government are not of the same quality as those portrayed on the show, and they really should be. The second source of depression is that it always makes me acutely aware of how little I do with my own life. Nothing that I do has anywhere near the importance of the issues that truly matter in this world. I have been at 84 for almost a year now and I have decided enough is enough. I am working on my resume and I am looking for a job that I can care about. I hereby declare these past 12 months "The Lost Year" and I hope to never have another. Many things in my life are going well, but I fear that I shall soon ruin them by letting my unhappiness with work poison them.
New topic: The lack of communication with those I used to call friend.
I find it odd that while the old gang was all in the small world of Z-ville, we talked on LJ and IM almost constantly, but now that we are all spread out, to Columbus, Pennsylvania, and now D.C., that we now never use this excellent method of keeping in touch across far distances. Of course, these very facts mean that most of the people I am now addressing won't even read this anyway, as will be born out by the small amount of comments this entry will no doubt produce. I guess I will just end by addressing all of those aforementioned non-readers by saying that I still miss you all dearly, and I wish we hadn't all lost touch as much as we have. That being said, it is a two-way road and I am as guilty as everyone else of letting things go. Kelly turned out to be a little too accurate when describing how friendships are largely based on convenience.