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Showing posts from April, 2011

Calling All Angels

Yesterday I arrived at work determined to have a good shift.  I had slept more than in any previous night this week (eight full hours), it was Friday, and damn it all, it was just going to be a good day.  I clocked in at 6:30am, but when I did this I think I actually clocked out of those good intentions.  Once I got on the floor and surveyed the landscape, I picked up the negative vibes right away.  Or maybe those were actually mine.  Who knows.  Either way, a slow but steady descent into misery was underway.  Initially I tried to just put it on cruise control and keep a smile going.  But as the minutes dragged on (seemingly eternally), I became more interested in everyone else's foul moods around me.  People were clearly unhappy and making it known.  Heck, why not join in?  And so I took the easy way out, and did just that.  I continued to perform my job tasks robotically, but inside I felt like my soul was collapsing.  I started to hum to myself.  That might sound innocous eno

Lei It On The Line

There are some traditions that just seem right.  And then there are others that, well, let's just say they probably shouldn't have made it past their inaugural proceedings.  Personally, I have never considered myself a traditionalist of any sort.  I was always the kid who thought it was cool that other families were having ham, or even better (or worse?) tofurkey, on Thanksgiving.  Why not change it up a little?  For as much as I love turkey, cranberries and the whole nine, I was especially excited one year when someone introduced me to giblet gravy.  And corn bread stuffing instead of the usual bread crumb/stove top variety.  And then one Easter, I was served eggplant parmiaggiana instead of ham.  Beautiful.  I felt like standing up and applauding.  I have never really understood why we follow certain traditions and their accompanying rituals.  One particularly crazy tradition that has always escaped me is the whole five-day workweek thing.  I mean, come on already!  Who i

Life in Retro

When I used to live in Georgia, I would occasionally stop by the Waffle House for a deliciously unhealthy meal, normally during the wee hours of the morning after an all-night visit to the local watering hole(s).   My regular southern-fried feast of choice would include hashbrowns, but not your typical boring shredded potatoes.  Nope.  These suckers would have to be ordered using a multitude of adjectives, verbs, or both.  Either way, I always used to enjoy proudly asking for mine scattered, smothered and covered.  I don't remember what any of that means exactly, it has been so long, but I certainly can tell you there was alot of cheese and grease involved, and of course, a lot of deliciousness (especially when eaten during those drunken visits).   I recall this all as I sit here, reflecting on the past week.  Like those potatoes, I too have felt scattered (indecisive and impulsive), smothered (in my past), and covered (like a heavy blanket is slowing me down).  I have searched h

Celestial Reasonings

Today was a perfectly, gloriously average day.   I began the adventure at work by 6am.  It was, you know...average (or whatever that is lately).  I smiled, did my best, talked with customers, and felt rather nonplussed about it all.  Afterwards, I went to the gym and had a typical workout.  Then I grabbed some dinner, came home, did my laundry, talked with a couple of friends, and watched the sunset.  During all of this inaction, I felt fairly calm and centered, and (somewhat surprisingly) never bored.  Nothing much seemed to be happening.  It was just another day in the life.  And now, here I am, writing about all of this inactivity.  So far, so average. There was, however, one strong undercurrent to all of the non-excitement of today.  I kept recalling the talk given this past weekend at a meditation sitting I attended.  Greg, the regular speaker at these gatherings, was commenting about life and death.  He made several good points by my estimation, but one phrase really stood out

Spring Cleaning

OK, I admit it.  I really don't like to clean.  I mean, truly, I don't often get much satisfaction out of it.  Some might even say I loathe it.  But when I came home from vacation and through clear eyes saw the squalor I had been living in for months, it caught me by surprise.  Now, this is not to say that I am a total pig by any stretch.  In fact, if you don't ever look too closely, my apartment (at most times) can seem orderly and actually fairly civilized--that is, until the tradewinds blow a dust bunny across the floor in plain sight.  Oops.  Where did that come from? Anyhow, this past week I finally decided that enough was enough.  I set out to clean my place and was dead set on getting it done this time.  Well after about a week had gone by (see how it got this way in the first place?), I finally got into the cleaning spirit.  The first order of business: take care of the ceiling fan.  I hadn't even noticed its dusty buildup whirring feverishly every single day