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Grey Pants

I was running in a snow storm today. And it was very unpleasant. Snow was getting in my eyes. It was an icy snow. And a woman was delivering mail in the snow. For about a mile or so as I was running she would get ahead of me and then stop at a mailbox and I would catch up to her and pass her and then she would pass me until she reached the next mailbox.

And we went on like this for a ways. In a snow storm. It wasn't all that interesting, really. Unless you are a kind of selfish person like I am. Then you can't help but wonder what she thought when she saw me.

Probably nothing. It's hard to impress people. You shouldn't try it. You should try to be impressed by others. Way more satisfying to be impressed.

I'm impressed with that mail lady. Driving around in her white CR-V. Delivering packages and letters in all kinds of weather. It was the middle of the day, too. That'd be a sweet job if you could sleep in for it. Any job would be a sweet job if you could sleep in. If you can sleep-in and have a job, I'm impressed by that.

I heard that Michael Bubble-y song today, "Haven't Met You Yet" and the chorus has a part where he goes, "I promise you kid, that I'll give so much more than I get--"

Is that really a good promise? To give so much more than you get? Does that mean the other person is getting so much more than they give? If giving is better than getting then aren't you denying the other person the better thing by taking more of the good thing. You're getting more giving.

Shouldn't it be, "I'll give just as much as I get?"

It lessens the other persons contribution by either claiming that they can't give as much or that the singer giving capabilities far surpass anything the other person could give.

This was a great post and I'm really excited about it. Off you go into the internet!

Post Apocalyptic Wasteland run by robot spiders

And salsa.

Plotting Along

Ran a PR for 5k today. 15:48.

Rearranged the apartment. It looks much larger now. More floor space.

Took the GRE on Saturday. 164 Verbal and 154 Math.

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Things To Do:

-Final for Shakespeare Class
-Apply to be a student next semester
-Write Essay and Resume and Finish Application for School of Ed.
-Run More
-Make...SOMETHING!

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I am ready for changes! This is a good thing!

Hi my name is Brak!

If you want snack then poot on down to Brak! Poodles.

Gregorn and Space Hair

Trust the reach. Hands and fans and glowing bands. Oof ow oof ow!

Boredom is a gift.

Hostile Wookie Embellishment

Yelling screaming throwing- getting chopped in half. Chiefly the enemy of all that is unbesmirched. Shards of flaming vitriol and detritus from the grizzled backs of smokey mountain ridges. All this in a boiling sweating cauldron and bones and nails and teeth too.

Different Ways for Different Days

Changes will change me. Rabies will give me itself. But the only thing I can depend on in this warbly world,

Is the thoughts I haven't even thunk.

I bet that you look on the dance floor

Kids like to live in the moment. Or, they have to. It's kind of frustrating for them. They're like little mechanics.

Dork and My On

The carrot of my dreams never comes true.

True expression is never. Only pies, prunes, and cheez.

No Cake Problems

This picture can't survive lava or criticism. But it can teach you how to love if you open you heart door to it.

For snack todayyy...

Crickety Crakket

And then, Burt (the main character) went into the kitchen and made himself some toast. He ate the toast. Standing up. In front of the toaster. He was sleepy. He was always sleepy in the morning. 

Sometimes he'd wake up at around 5 in the morning and be completely awake. But, he didn't have to wake up until 6. So, he'd just lie there and feel like it'd be the easiest thing in the world to wake up and do all the stuff he had to do.

But he always went back to sleep. When his alarm went off at 6 he was incredibly tired and had to force himself out of bed. What kind of cruel trick is that?

Why did it have to be so hard to get out of bed? Should it be hard to get out of bed?

It should! It should be hard to get out of bed! This was his daily toll. His Sisyphean task. To roll his lumped mass out of bed only to have it come crashing down about 14 hours later. 

That was the moment where he chose to be a person for another day. No small choice. If the difficult of physically removing himself from the bed was indicative of the difficulty of the choice. There are so many things Burt is going to mess up. And so many things he's going to ruin forever. And yet he's going to matter so little.

It's like choosing to be a grain of sand in an hourglass. He is part of the process of covering up and obscuring everything that fell before him. And at the same time he is being covered and obscured. 

Plus it's just plain hard to get up! He's low blood-sugar. His brain is booting up. Physically it's hard.

Maybe, the difficulty of getting up makes the act worthwhile in itself. It gets down to something basic. That early in the day, there isn't enough time to think about and imagine the constructive things that can be worked on. There isn't enough time to rationalize or motivate. Even hunger or needing to go to the bathroom doesn't really jump-start the day.

There needs to be some kind of basic urge to just be present. If it wasn't hard to get up then that urge wouldn't mean as much. And if that's one thing that everybody has to endure then that's one reason to respect everyone that started their day.

Hey, it's hard getting up. You did that. That was difficult. Everything else you're bothering yourself with might be stupid and pointless and destructive or amazing or fantastic and it's probably different than the stuff I'm bothering myself with. But we did it. Here it is.

Hoo-rah. 

Mutual Confusing Hate

I'm pretty sure the girl I work with hates me. I'm pretty sure. She has every reason to. I don't really ever look at her or talk to her and I probably look morose whenever we're the only two people in the room together.

Fortunately there are normally about 30 kids in any room that we're both in so that creates enough of a distraction.

But, to be fair, in my mind, she's a terrible person. I don't think I've heard her ever engage in a conversation that doesn't consist mainly of one of three things:

-pointlessly arguing with the person she's talking to
-talking about something you buy or pay for or consume in some way
-complaining about something or someone

Those three things. That's a more fully-formed reason to not like her though. I've never really thought about it that way. But anyway, I don't like her. Can I work with her? Yes. But I don't like her.

That's not really the problem though. It's not like it's hard to dislike someone. My problem is being aware that, if she does hate me, she's completely justified in doing so. I'm not a nice person to her.

Almost every time I go to work I cling to the idea that I can dislike someone without simultaneously becoming like that person. A bitter person with nothing nice to say deserving of contempt.

It makes being mad at someone seem pointless and self-serving. I lower myself. Because, ultimately, it's my choice to be upset. She doesn't wield some awesome power of stupidity that forces me to hate her against all better judgement.

Maybe the best I can hope for is a suspension of judgement. Or more ignoring. I'm fine with her doing that to me. If I was a good person I would try to find some common ground or something. But, you don't have to like everyone. Maybe just be okay with knowing that everyone you don't like will think you're a big jerk. It's not like that's a point of pride though. It's just contributing to the amount of hate in the world. That's part of being a person. Contributing to hate and sadness. And then maybe you'll get some guilt and understanding if you're lucky. And then you become a better person. Maybe.

4114569870

I was biking home from work a few nights ago and I looked to my right and saw a woman running barefoot from her car into the street.

Then I looked forward and saw a deer crouched up against the curb about twenty feet in front of me. I get off my bike and move over to the sidewalk and watch the woman run up to the deer and say, "Hey little guy. You're okay. It's okay."

The deer, hearing this assurance, gets up and begins charging directly at me, as I'm straddling my bike. I don't know how close it got because I scrunched my face up like a weenie and turned away, preparing for the hit. But, I guess the deer had enough sense to stop and turn around and run back across the street in front of the cars that the barefoot woman had stopped. It made it across safely and disappeared.

I go back to biking and I see a guy who had been standing in front of me bring his cellphone back up to his ear and say, "Oh, it ran away. I guess it's okay now."

Then I went back to doing when I had been doing before all of this happened...

singing "Tomorrow" from Annie but reducing every word to one syllable

da sun cm ut, tmrru. burt yr bttm dalr dt, tmmru, der be...sun.


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What if I had been hit by that deer though? That would've made for a much better story.  And proper punishment for me butchering a song sung by a girl who has faith in the goodness of the world despite not having parents.

I went right back to singing it too.

duh sun kirm oot, tmroh. Brt yr bddm dalr durt, tmroh. Dur be...sun!

Beard Poem 4

Beards! Beards! Beards! Beards! Beards!
Melanie had heard from an old talking toad
that the way to the dragon was down Blubbergum Road.
And there, on the road, was the first enemy she faced.
It was the Blunnnnghderous Blechhh from Outer Space.
He said, "Puny Beard Warrior, prepare to be erased.
I'll crush you and smush you and I will leave no trace."

Beards! Beards! Beards! Beards! Beards!
The Blunnnnghderous Blechhh was a gruesome sight to behold.
A tall, fat, mean, greasy monster dripping with mold.
He lurched at Melanie with his Spicy Skunk Fist
but Melanie's reflexes made the blow miss.
The Blech laughed, "Haha! You'll never suspect this!"
And he unleashed his Deadly Fuzzy Lip Kiss!

Beards! Beards! Beards! Beards! Beards!
Oh! Melanie gagged and choked and her lips were burning,
she was sick to her stomach and her breakfast was churning.
"You are a gross, slobbish, pig!" Melanie said with disdain.
"With stanky stank breath and a head with no brain!"
And Melanie's righteous scolding the Blech with great guilt-pains.
He fled weeping and sobbing while Melanie, standing strong, remained.

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And then that happened.

Poogy the Giant Dinosaur

We traced this from an overhead projector! Cool times! I made the left food and the open hand!

I am the Maxx! (Note: claw has been moved to index finger to make decent for viewing by elementary childrens)

not traced. Not that it's good enough that it looks like it had to be traced. But...I was proud of it!

That's Poogy. I drew it during quiet time today. Poogy wants mad cupcakes but has sad thumbs.