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Monday, March 26, 2001 
My understanding of certain things at the moment is beyond me. I'm sick and tired and worn and frustrated and feeling just a little bit bruised right now. Both my physical and mental exhaustion are the reasons for ambiguity on the matter. So much for letting it all out. I'm cranky. Stay outta my way.
As I wandered down the aisles of the grocery store earlier, I couldn't help but think of how much more convenient it would be if they simply arranged all of the items according to types of people. For example, the single bachelor section could include frozen pizzas, toilet paper, beer and so on. Breakfast cereal, baby food, fresh meat and numerous other healthy foodstuffs would of course be found in the family section. Canned tuna, bread, pet food and the lottery counter likewise for the senior section. After a while I realized that it probably wouldn't be a good idea since most people would likely get mixed up easily and find themselves wandering outside of their respective sections. Hurried young men pushing past mothers to grab the last box of Captain Crunch or elderly gentlemen looking around in the bachelor section for softer toilet tissue. Yeah. It'd probably be a big mess. That's what I get for going to the grocery store on an empty stomach anyway. My thought processes were a little out of whack with all of the grumbling going on down below. I was just trying to keep my mind off of it by thinking of an easier way to do my grocery shopping without having to go back and forth and up and down again between sixteen long aisles for just one or two things.
When my alarm went off at 4 a.m. yesterday morning I was almost completely sure I didn't want to get out of bed. Visions of overcrowded and undersized bars accompanied by one-too-many-not-nearly-enough irish beers were still swimming around in my head. Ugggh. It felt like I just got home. I did just get home, didn't I? Almost three hours before. I mean it was Sunday....people sleep in on Sundays. I hit snooze and sunk back into my warm covers while pondering the thought of calling my mom. Telling her I was sick. Telling her that I... My phone rang: "Mrrmmph...hellloo-o?" So. I picked my mom up. End of story. Note to Reader: Additional note to Reader: Additional note to additional note:
Beware the Ides of March! (errr....I mean, Happy Birthday!) Today is my mom's birthday. The only reason I remember every year is because it falls on the same day that Julius Caesar was assassinated. Why I remember it this way, I don't know. But I never forget. So. Uh. Hi mom!
I met the gang earlier for dinner at a Japanese restaurant which Matt suggested we all go to. It was a nice departure from the one we usually frequent, even though the cook to table ratio is 1:6 and from the outside the building looks like an old run down gas station in the middle of slumville. But then, looks can be deceiving. Our meal was fantastic, I might have discovered my new favorite beer and our cook, Ken, enlightened us all on the benefits of pre-marital sex. Tonight my tummy is full and happy (as is the rest of me) and I'm sitting here alone in my apartment thinking about things in the way that one thinks about things when they are alone...has time to think about such things. Good things. Important things. Sometimes it helps keep me sane. I've been giving myself more alone time lately. It's something that I never used to really be comfortable with. I'm not sure if some of my friends really fully understand. I'm afraid that they may feel as if I am neglecting them, or don't like hanging out with them as much anymore. I guess I should know better than to think that though. They are as much a part of me as I am of them. I value them more than anything in the entire world. I love my friends. They help keep me sane. It's a beautiful paradox.
The only thing more annoying than banner ads and/or pop-up "window commercials" on the web is having to design them. Yipes! Is it Friday already? In other news: Megnut is dead. Or is she? Maybe I just know something that you don't. Then again, maybe I don't.
This might seem strange, but it just occurred to me that it's been a reaaaaally long time since I've held (or even touched) a pencil. You know...the good old fashioned No. 2's. Yellow but not really yellow. I used to twirl them between my fingers or hold them up to my nose taking in the thick sweet aroma of wood and graphite. Oh, and the teethmarks. You can never own a pencil without teeth marks. Of course, now the passing thought of not having a pencil makes me wish I had a pencil. And the want of a pencil leaves me frustrated for not being able to find such a desired pencil. Goddamnit. Somebody find me a pencil.
Earlier today I spent a couple of hours rummaging through endless aisles of assorted junk and over priced throw-aways at one of the local "mega antique malls". It's fun to ponder over the necessity of owning tiny stuffed crocodiles dressed in tuxedoes or seeing what is possibly the nation's largest collection of salt and pepper shakers. I'm not really a collector or "antiquer" (in the truest sense of the word anyway). I just find it to be a unique and interesting experience everytime I go. Everything seems to have a story to tell. Personality and character...it's things like this that fascinate me you know. |
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