a wise journaler once said, “never post anything while you are half-asleep or half-drunk.”
or was that just me, just now. well, damn.
listen, i meant to tally the votes on my reprise and record it before i skipped town but that doesn’t look like that’s going to happen, seeing as i’m supposed to be waking up in three hours for the airport. mmhmm. i also meant to catch up on my email before leaving. riiiiight. i’m lucky i got packed, at the rate i was going …
so this is not goodbye, but see you later. good health and good memories!
as stef mentioned, there have been some improvements to the ‘stedcam chat experience. (thanks, darius!) the next chat will be on tuesday, 9 january; i hope to see you and your holiday stories there!
speaking of the ‘stedcam, chris was over last night and that can only lead to goofy pictures. i mean, we sit around making each other laugh by saying, “that is some wack-ass shit, yo.” over and over. it’s great. it’s really like having a little brother.
i have to pick everything up off the library floor because the cleaners are coming over the holidays. i’m a teensy bit annoyed at the fact that 99% of the people who actually use the library just picked up under their own desks and then left early for vacation and didn’t bother helping me out in here, but i’m not surprised. the library is my desk; i shall not want.
tomorrow morning we leave for florida. i am absolutely beside myself with excitement. my in-laws and florida friends are terrific, not to mention i’m finally going to meet one of chad’s very best friends from high school: she and her husband live in hawai’i but they’ll be in florida for christmas! ahh, ten relaxing days with chad and family and friends in a wonderful house. i’m already purring.
this means you won’t see me around, though. i’ll either post short entries here from the in-laws’ computer, or i’ll post longer ones when i get back, depending on my mood. i have a feeling i’ll be having too much offline fun to post much, but i’ll recap when i get back.
now, to get back to what i’m always getting back to: cleaning this library.
three of my favorite things. heh.
i took my lunch-break late yesterday and wandered over to the embarcadero center to meet the sentimental curmudgeon for coffee. the city was trying extra-hard to charm me on the walk over: streetcorner christmas carols on steel drums, brass letters of street-names embedded into the sidewalk under my feet, diagonal crossings allowed at one-way intersections. i was in a great mood by the time i arrived at the café, and it only improved by chatting with curmudgeon. an hour went by so fast! she is so charming and animated and articulate; i can’t wait to hang out with her again.
right after work i meandered through the rush-hour pedestrians to the MUNI light rail to the inner sunset. malice treated me to dinner at p.j.’s oyster bed on the eve of her move to seattle. again, the time passed very quickly as we ate delicious seafood and talked about moving, people, going back to college. after dinner we couldn’t find a place to park and hang out before my ferry left, so she dropped me off early and i sat inside the ferry building and read my harper’s.
we all know the mark twain quip: “the coldest winter i’ve ever spent was a summer in san francisco.” so that’s a slight exaggeration, but it does feel cold here, comparable to the cold i’ve felt in both erie and chicago, where during the winters the wind-chill factor drops the temperature to twenty, thirty degrees below zero. of course, it’s nowhere near that cold in san francisco, but it’s cold. it feels damp, chilled, like someone poured a layer of ice water in between your clothes and your skin and then pushed you out the door.
i am bundled up anymore, with gloves and scarf and hat and warm coat and sometimes even tights beneath dress pants, because i have such pathetic circulation. the ferry is heated but even that slid off my shivering. nothing sunk in. inexplicably, i wore myself down with will o’ the wisp thoughts of grad school. will i make it there? will i succeed? sometimes picturing myself as a full-fledged librarian is a great motivator, and other days it’s overwhelmingly depressing that i’m not even close yet. i’ve never been very good at breaking huge projects down into smaller, manageable ones, and this is no exception. i know where to start, yet i don’t.
the ferry and i bobbed along like that for almost an hour. nothing was familiar on the other side, as if i had crossed an ocean instead of just a bay.
palm reading courtesy of yahoo! astrology:
from “the jerk” (1979, directed by carl reiner):
I’m picking out a thermos for you. Not an ordinary thermos for you. But the extra best thermos that you can buy, With vinyl and stripes and a cup built right in! I’m picking out a thermos for you, And maybe a barometer too, And what else can I buy so on me you’ll rely, A rear end thermometer too.
it’s not even lunchtime and i’ve jinxed and been jinxed already today. for those of you not familiar with this venerable practice, you can jinx someone when s/he says something at the very same time you say it. (singing along to the radio doesn’t count.) the first to proclaim, “jinx!” is the jinxer; the other is the jinxee. the jinxee cannot speak until the jinxer has spoken the jinxee’s name. some rules require the jinxee’s full, meaning first-middle-last, name to be said aloud, and other rules require only the first and last. i think it depends on your level of cruelty.
optional rules include the addition of “buy me a coke!” which has either been used as a jinx-breaker (jinxee buys the jinxer a coke to break the jinx) or as a way-out (jinxee can break the jinx but must buy jinxer a coke to make up for it). the beverage of your choice can be substituted for “coke” if dietary preferences require it.
this morning i’ve already discovered tons of interesting regional variants on this game. post yours here, if you like.
and if you think this is all too sophomoric and i am a big baby for playing this game … go poop.
well, it’s not like i had a hell of a lot of time to chat from work anyway. but still! damn.
“As of December 29, 2000, Bantu is discontinuing all free consumer services currently available at www.bantu.com including instant messaging, e-mail, calendar, postings and groups. Your account will be automatically deactivated on this date. As a courtesy to our users, we will forward your @bantu.com e-mail through January 31st, 2001. Bantu Instant Messaging will continue to be available to our corporate partners as a business service.”
the first round of requests for my reprise was brutal. the three nominations that were seconded are:
despite the incredible tales of debauchery involving my coworkers i didn’t go to my employer’s holiday party on friday night. instead, as soon as i got out of work an hour early, i meandered to MUNI and took the light rail to the caltrain station. the caltrain and i are friendly acquaintances, having met only once over a year ago on a trip back to the city from palo alto. my recent train entry was a direct result of me pondering caltrain, and i wasn’t disappointed. well, nothing that interesting happened, but i enjoyed the forty-five minute trip south. i sat on the upper level, which only has single seats next to a slender walkway on either side of the car, and looked out the window. about halfway down the peninsula, a man sat directly behind me whose aroma was one molecule shy of poop. i almost moved, but the smell kept tricking me into complacency, like old “friends” episodes. i concentrated on something else: real friends.
ergazork, sindrei, waldo and druid were waiting for me at the station in palo alto. (yep, those are handles.) druid and i have known each other since i first logged into his MUCK in ‘92 or ‘93, neither of us can remember when exactly. we weren’t friends immediately, though; no, far from it. my friends proceeded to annoy the living hell out of him and his friends so that they did their best to avoid or ignore us outright for years. when druid and i finally got to know each other independently, we had a pretty good laugh about all that. he did anyway. and we got over it. ergazork and sindrei i met recently, at the same MUCK; when chad and i first moved to san francisco they drove up to see us and carted us around a lot when we were still deciding where to live. and waldo is a good friend of ergazork and sindrei, and druid’s acquaintance, but i met him for the first time on friday.
i should explain why palo alto, why friday: druid was interviewing for a position where waldo works, and he was only in town for the day. i hadn’t seen druid in years and decided to skip out on my holiday party to visit with everyone. chad wanted to join us but there was no time for him to get from the north bay all the way to the south bay before druid’s plane left. that much i regretted, since they have become friends too.
missing chad, the five of us went in search of food, first to an overcrowded italian restaurant in downtown palo alto, then to a less-crowded italian restaurant in … somewhere … down the road? i have no idea. i was having too much fun chatting with everyone to pay attention to where we were going. it was only a short drive away, and we had called ahead to make sure they could seat us immediately. we had a huge, wonderful dinner together, and then waldo suggested a café since i mentioned something about loving egg custard. (did i mention that? i do.) we walked from the restaurant to the café as druid used a mobile phone to change his flight reservation from that night to the next morning.
that stress out of the way, we enjoyed a leisurely custard and tiramisu while a swingy, jazzy quartet started up. we checked the caltrain schedule before heading to a neat little bookstore and doing one of my favorite things, ever: group browsing. i love wandering through bookstores with people i like, pointing things out, asking questions, diverging and converging again. after a too-short time in the bookstore, i had to catch a caltrain back to the city, so we said our goodbyes and off i went.
warmed by the evening spent with friends, and the excitement of navigating a trip into and out of unfamiliar territory, i slipped into a light catnap. my sleepy sight blurred the smear of streetlights as the train slowed and sped up near the various stops along the way. i didn’t remember to be anxious about the rest of the trip home until we neared the caltrain depot in the city.
hm. i have fifteen minutes to make it from the caltrain depot to the transbay terminal. on foot and on MUNI. if i miss this bus, i have to wait an hour and a half for the next one. hm. okay, doable, right? it’s not that far …
i jammed out of the depot and was delighted to find a MUNI light rail waiting across the street. in true kung-fu transit babe style, i leaped into the railcar and stood, waiting for it to lurch to life.
nothing. right. okay. so, we’re going … now! still nothing. okay, i’m going to be late, people, let’s go let’s go let’s go!
five minutes (or an eternity) later it started up and deposited me at the embarcadero with only five minutes to hustle several blocks. so i ran. o, was that not a good feeling. o, am i a little doughy ball of unhealthiness. i’m not even a smoker anymore and i couldn’t manage that run. gah.
i did make it in time, because the bus was late, and even though i felt quite pathetic about the overexertion of jogging it was so nice to be on the last leg of my journey. i called chad to ask him for a ride from the bus stop, and then nestled into the seat to watch some more of the world go by.
(which translated into a nap. i’m so predictable. if you get on a bus in san francisco and there is a disheveled, sulky-looking sleeping girl on it, chances are that’s me.)
i walked in the door at 00:30 saturday morning; the return trip had taken almost exactly three hours. i slept so well that night, and dreamed of running marathons.
since my parents split when i was eleven, i spent a good part of each holiday traveling. at the start, i only took amtrak trains, which traveled directly between erie, pennsylvania (my dad) and chicago, illinois (my mom). the in-between-ness of the trip would leave me in a sort of persona limbo; i hadn’t yet figured out who i was independent of who my parents were.
so i would pretend to be someone else.
at first, this manifested itself in only thinking about things on the train i wouldn’t allow myself to think about elsewhere. since i was such a devout catholic, the thinking was usually done about sins people commit, why they do so, what happens to them, to their victims, when they do.
(sociology 101. always my father’s daughter.)
later, when i hit puberty, i stared at people a lot, and even let myself get so far as think about kissing them before i beat those feelings down into their proper repressed place.
then there was the accent.
i would affect a (horridly americanized) british accent, and talk to people. my mother is an excellent actress and has a full command of accents and dialects, because that’s her job. i picked up a few of the general nuances from being around her so many years, and i even spent a summer at cambridge university, but i cannot pretend to be very good at any of it. in fact, i know i’m frightful. i didn’t then.
one trip i decided to sit in the lounge – where the sinners (read: cool people) sat, talked, played cards, smoked, drank – and write in my journal. i immediately noticed a group of three people slightly older than me when they entered laughing and toting a box of froot loops cereal and a deck of cards.
i was entranced. i watched. the girl had short, dark hair and olive skin, pixie-like; one of the boys was blond and fair, and the other had darkest brown skin and dreadlocks. they were all so together and just the sort of people that this me would want to know. finally, somehow, i worked up the nerve to join them at their table, and struck up a conversation about the froot loops in my faux british accent.
they bought it. oooo, where are you from? they wanted to know. i had done so much thinking about what i’d tell anyone if ever asked that i came up with this entire background, most of it fueled by the places i saw when i was in england.
i can’t exactly remembered how we all got to truth or dare, or why we incorporated it with the “spin the bottle” random choosing mechanism, and i definitely don’t remember why we used my trusty plastic cow instead of a real bottle, but there it is. it didn’t take long for the two “couples” to pair off, both brunettes together and me with the blond, gawky, utterly charming artist boy.
one dare involved the two girls wearing our bras on our heads for ten minutes; another involved asking someone sitting in the lounge car for a sip of their drink and then chugging the whole thing. (what newfound freedom! what little beasts we were! four of us against the whole train!) both truths and dares soon turned to sex, of course, albeit the most innocent kind: the very last dare involved the boy kissing me for exactly one minute and no tongues were even involved. it was that movie-star, closed lips-to-lips mashing sort of kiss, and i remember it so fondly: it was the first time i had forgotten to feel guilty for happiness.
when we opened our eyes, the other couple had disappeared, presumably to give us privacy. the boy and i spent the rest of the time sitting together back in the coach, holding hands, talking about our lives – i had a life? o yes, that drab old thing back there – and promising to write letters, to keep in touch. to somehow hold onto the innocence of kissing cleanly a stranger whose last name i would never know.
i remember him, though. i remember the letter that came in the mail just a week later, that i never responded to. the old-me just didn’t know what to say.
it has come to my attention that my rendition of britney spears’ “oops i did it again” demands an encore. so as my holiday gift to you, i am taking requests for one more song. please post your top choice here, and the song with the most votes wins.
(if you have no idea what i’m talking about, or simply want to revisit the insanity, just download the mp3.)
bush, you cocksucker. i could have had it all, bitch. in four years, fear me.
ode to the young blonde golden gate transit commuters
ripping out my ticket i am noticed by the two blonde women i know not at all at my bus stop. they have never repeated an outfit, between them. they own orange leather shoes. staring at nothing i watch those pointy, impossible noses, the blunt cuts.
and it can only get better! (at 27, i am neither qualified nor unqualified to make this statement.) already the metabolism slows, the butt widens, curves become less intended, more interesting –
i drop off the demographic radar. i no longer exist. ghost-free. but these women do, the ones who buy and sell, phase out while i sleep, have country homes in other countries. i drink warm water, feet up on the tire-well hump
and fantasize about the woman who dyed her dog to match her outfits, her hair; how lucky that dog must have been! how lucky and how patient with life, with the whim of women, with the endless afternoons of matching everything with everything else, of matching exact brow-bones with those pointy, impossible noses the blunt cuts
the blunt cuts
— Halsted M. Bernard
yes, indeedy, the ‘stedcam chat is on for tonight! it will start at 19:00 local time (that’s 7p PST, 8p MST, 9p CST, 10p EST, terribly late/awfully early for the rest of the world) in #stedcam on DALnet. i have a few discussion topics in mind but your suggestions are welcome, so bring them with you or post them here. also, someone please bring the crowbar to pry this song out of my head. thank you.
you know, it’s a wonder i am continually drawn to make new friends. on days like today i am reminded of the awful choices i have made in trusting some people. there’s just no way for me to know ahead of time if someone is going to be trustworthy or not, so i suppose the cautious thing to do is not give my trust so freely.
also, i am continually amazed by how some people will distort the events surrounding a situation, thereby taking the situation out of any context. it’s easy to prove equations when you get to change the meaning of, say, “multiply”.
i suppose this is what we all become at some point, me included: crazy, scrambling creatures desperate not to have any fingers pointed at them. well, point the fingers at me if need be. i’ve certainly fucked some shit up in my time, and i’m not proud of that, either. but no matter what you could ever say about or to me, i know what happened.
the one who turns her back first doesn’t have to deal with the responsibility of the betrayal; it’s the one who turns her back last.
so much is happening to me inside these days that it seems like i will never write about it all. every day there’s something i enjoy, feel, or connect with, and i am scrambling to remember everything.
saturday was just fun. more of this real fun i’ve experienced in the past few months, not the fun i’ve faked at large social gatherings in the past.
chad and i got our stuff together and drove into the city to the hotel, which is conveniently right next to the civic center, but also in a semi-lousy neighborhood. i say “semi-lousy” because the tenderloin is nowhere you want to be navigating alone at night but it’s harmless if you don’t dally.
the hotel, even though we had a confirmation number, screwed us out of a king-size bed and stuck us in a room with two double-beds instead. it was still a really nice room, and i would have taken pictures of it if i hadn’t been in such a rush to put on my party dress.
chad was donning his tux (with bowtie, vest, and handkerchief in the purple of my gown, might i add) while i was getting into my dress and doing my hair and makeup, so we both got the full effect of each other’s outfits at the same time. it was a sparkly moment, reminiscent of the first time we saw each other in our wedding outfits. mostly we just grinned goofily at each other and then got ready to leave.
the civic center is a lovely building on the outside, somewhat less so on the inside, but it was full of food and drink so it’s forgiven. we found some of chad’s coworkers amongst the thousands of lucas companies’ employees and started in on the refreshments. finding an empty table was quite a score, so we sat down with another couple and were joined by random people throughout our buffet-style nibbly dinner. everyone was murmuring about the main event. i hadn’t even known there was a main event; i thought we were there to eat and drink and dance, just like at the other lucas parties. but apparently we would be entertained as well, so we started our own speculation about what it might be. i think we finally settled on “barney on ice” or “puppet mimes on ice” before they opened the auditorium doors and we filed into the balcony seating.
the place was black except for a swirling blue-purple-teal lightshow on the stage below … and for the glowsticks on the chairs surrounding the stage. i love glowsticks. we didn’t have any so one of our companions went downstairs to retrieve some. glowstick in one hand, glass of chardonnay in the other, i was having a marvelous time.
the main event did not involve barney or ice (damn!) but rather an “urban aerial performance company” called anti-gravity. they were pretty amazing, even without the glowsticks. i had seen similar choreography (particularly the mid-air sequences) about ten years ago from a dance troupe named ISO, but anti-gravity was more of a blend of that and traditional gymnastics set to club music. they were fascinating, particularly the guy who rolled around in a big metal cylinder; the control he must exert over his own body overwhelms me.
that’s the sort of dance i wanted to choreograph. another life, now. i can hardly remember it.
after that, the band started playing, although we went to see the art gallery first. in the gallery, we met up with some of chad’s coworkers from his tester days and their dates, and chatted a bit. most of what i remember from the conversation was that one woman mentioned having her nipples pierced. she said after the piercings healed, her nipples were outrageously sensitive (in a good way) and kept getting more sensitive, which must have really sounded like a great idea to me because i declared, “i’m getting my nipples pierced!” only i hadn’t realized that chad’s current boss had wandered up to join the conversation by that point and i declared it pretty much in his face. good thing he has a great sense of humor, plus he’s known me for a while.
dancing with chad was fun, of course, aside from the gaping hole accidentally created in my foot by some mambo mama with her stiletto heel. chad decided the band wasn’t as good as grooveline, although they were definitely similar; i hadn’t realized that they weren’t grooveline. when it comes to ‘70’s cover bands, it’s all good. i mean, can you really screw up disco? anyway, hours passed, and we finally exhausted ourselves so we headed back to the hotel.
an annoying squeaky-wheel sound from the maid’s cart woke us up sunday morning. the ten o’clock wake-up call happened a little closer to ten-fifteen, but it was still way before check-out time. we made a leisurely start of the day and returned to marin county a little groggy but in high spirits.
the downstairs was a little messy so we spent the day cleaning. my neck started to ache a little, as if i had experienced whiplash, although neither chad nor i could remember anything that would have caused it. in the evening, chad played poker with chris, clay and dan while i researched more about library science and grad school. later, i spent an enjoyable time with friends in #stedcam on DALnet, something that is becoming increasingly addictive. i tried to get to bed on time but failed miserably; i did update the best of the ‘stedcam gallery but was unable to get the party pictures uploaded due to a serial cable snafu. those will have to wait.
today my neck definitely feels sprained, but it’s a small price to pay for a weekend of real fun. i’m almost prepared to face the workweek … almost.
chad and i commuted into and out of the city together yesterday. we also had lunch together, and he finally saw the library. i didn’t expect to be so proud of it, but i just puffed right up when he complimented it. also, i introduced him to one of the designers i work most closely with, and he said something along the lines of, “your wife is doing a phenomenal job here,” which was a bit of an exaggeration but it still made me feel all warm and sqwudgy inside.
chris, chad and i went to see “dungeons and dragons” last night, on principle. it was so very bad. i keep thinking i’ll write epinions on these fiascos but in retrospect i rarely have anything to articulate aside from “that sucked.”
i spent some time in stef’s chatroom last night and it was intense. one of the things i miss most about staying up late is having these talks, when my own defenses are down and i can just blab, ask the questions i really want to ask, without worrying or feeling self-conscious. it’s almost like being a bit tipsy, and letting that giddiness wash out the residual paranoia about being misunderstood.
speaking of getting tipsy, tonight is the lucas companies’ holiday party downtown. i’m so excited, doubly so because i get to make this announcement: chad got a promotion! i’ve been sitting on this bit of news for over a week now, can you believe it? we’re going to dress up and have fun and take lots of pictures. it’s so strange how much i look forward to parties and meeting new people now; i used to have panic attacks at the mere mention of social gatherings. i also used to say, “i don’t know what changed,” but i do now. i know exactly what changed: i worked through that anxiety and got to the other side of it. now i’m rather belligerent about it; i throw empty beer cans at it, from this side, and sneer.
it’s a good feeling. i wish it for other people.
o, it’s all going to be okay. sure, work has sucked, and i’m desperate to enact my future academic plans, but we have debt to get through first and that’s not so bad. it’s ramping me up so when i get into grad school finally, i’ll be that much happier to be there. i will have earned it. temporary setbacks are just that: temporary. this probably makes for a truly boring journal but as long as i’m not bored with it, it will continue.
aren’t we lucky?
after work tonight, sarah and i bused home together and saw “dark days” at the rafael, then had okay sushi at the place we remembered as outstanding. we took a tour of one of the health clubs in downtown san rafael because sarah might get a membership to one for christmas from her mom. the one we toured wasn’t impressive, but then again, i am not impressed by health clubs.
sarah has many bus admirers. one was on the bus tonight and he actually reseated himself so he could eavesdrop on our conversation. i caught myself being less articulate than usual because i knew we had an audience. and hey eavesdropping guy, if you’re reading this, you are not slick. we saw you. we giggled silently at you, as girls are wont to do. sucker.
my own bus silence has been broken. this morning i arrived at my stop to discover the bus guy there. really, i need a better name for the bus guy. marc. he looks like a marc. and it’s a library acronym too. (it stands for machine-readable cataloging.) okay, so marc was at my bus stop this morning, which hasn’t ever happened before; sometimes when i am running late, i’ll show up to his. but he was at mine and it threw me all off so i chirped, “good morning!” at him as i took my place beside him in line.
he blinked and said, “hey, how’re you.”
i replied, “good!”
that’s about when the brainpower ran out. but i am hopeful; i keep thinking he and i will chat and i’ll have a full-fledged bus buddy and maybe his wife will be cool and then the four of us can hang out and do the ever-elusive couple-things.
or maybe not. i get my hopes up like this a lot. why are all the cool couples far away? we need to import some. or i just need to get offline more often. that’s probably it …
all this like i’d really engage in a conversation with anyone new. it’s tough when i’m just so misanthropic these days. many of my idle daydreams are vaguely violent and i am hoping that venting this aggression is better than repressing it, just like the shrinks and self-help books say. otherwise, we’re all doomed. after all, i have a vast supply of 4”x4” marble samples at my disposal, and they do well in short trajectories.
last night, my bus was quite late in picking me up for the commute home. i found out why: the screaming woman got on it again, and popped our sweet and gentle bus driver in the nose. nice. we wish you a merry christmas and a happy black eye.
the librarian from one of the other offices called me today to ask for my help. this is a big deal (for me, not for her).
so i start to research the question – and this is really the best part of my job, this is the part i look forward to, savor, and reminisce about – and i discover the one database that could really help me is under figurative lock-and-key. if i were a member of an academic institution, or even a professional organization, i might be able to access it.
so i am left to comb the search engines. i don’t think most people realize how wildly uncategorized the web really is. heh, at least it’s public.
part of my frustration with being a newcomer to the field of architecture is that i haven’t made enough contacts yet to schmooze my way into password-protected databases. and so much of this job is drudgery that i want to do this one exciting thing right. maybe then i’ll feel like i’m worth something here, that i’m pulling my own weight, that i’m contributing to any sort of process. aside from throwing away carpet samples, of course.
god, i’m just pathetic today. i hope david wasn’t too repulsed by me at lunch.
i resisted as long as i could. but i’m alone in the library, the table’s clean, and i’m wearing my schoolgirl outfit.
yes, it’s time to dance to hanson.
i blame mtv.
this just in: one of the new admins at work couldn’t remember my name. (after only being introduced to me once, and not yet seeing my name in print, i couldn’t blame her. it’s a toughie.) she asked sarah what it was, and then said i looked like a melissa.
to me, melissas look like my stepmom, or melissa gilbert, neither of which i resemble physically, so i find this funny.
further amusement ensued when i found out that sarah thought my birthname was in fact “melissa”. now that would have been creepy.
has anyone thought you looked like you should have a different first name? if so, what was the name? how far off were they?
(and yes, i still owe you that entry about my name change. it’s coming …)
stress-related insomnia sucks. i have exhausted my options for dealing with it and must now go lie in bed for a few hours. but first a poem from rob’s amazing poem generator:
minor snafu with just sitting there, was shocked to kick and made it only been so they all went GO home together which stunned me how to be dropped us decided to the grinch which i say that we spend thanksgiving with a very very much, louder and i guess. when dad spend thanksgiving day so i came back, were eight spouts you know to be taken of a store is that goes like a few of my hands instead; of left and then the world has a computer for that. i took a wedding band. funny how yahtzee is good. home.
nothing to say about today except this: i thought friday was a pretty bad workday, my worst since starting this job, but i let go of my anger and enjoyed the weekend.
and then today happened.
i can now say with surety that friday was not the worst workday because today definitely was. i won’t get into detail here because the one person who did all she could to make a positive impact on the badness today reads this journal and i’m not going to put her in a lame position, no matter how much i want to spew.
hi, sarah. i know i already thanked you but thank you again, especially for hugging me at the bus stop, because i knew then that you are not just a great boss but a great friend.
i also have one other person to thank. this one is obvious. chad, i know you have had a positive influence on my life because i didn’t fall apart today, no matter how bad it got, and it got pretty bad. thank you for teaching me how to laugh instead of cry.
i think i’ll make some soup and do more laundry now.