Philosophical Self-Analysis
I feel like I'm on a constant journey for self-improvement, letting go of all my childhood and teenage inadequacies.
It's never quite as successful as I'd like it to be. Possibly, that journey could reach it's final destination at any time, right? Nothing short of a miracle could make me a perfect person by the end of the day, but who's to say miracles are impossible? All my unfavorable personal tendencies could simply wash away, and I would be left with perfect personal satisfaction in every choice and action I make.
It makes a strange sense that this journey of mine, to a version of which few should label themselves unfamiliar, moves sluggishly: it's moving at the pace of life.
Also my skull is thick.
Life moves slowly! Personal character revelations, the big ones, would seem to naturally follow suit. That's all I mean.
(The olden ones always tell me, "Don't blink." I don't buy it.)
If I could learn everything today, I would. I mean, if learning everything had no negative consequences. Who can know?
There's an argument in favor of the slowness to be derived here: if I reached the end now, what fun would the rest of life be?
I disagree. There's ever an end to learning. Goals are to be reached, not constantly strived for and kept far away. Reach a goal, move on to the next one. That's more my style.
I am a conquerer. I am Ahab. I am also a little slow.
Class at Bar
Yesterday I met Florangela, my COM359 lecturer, at Big Time Brewery on the Ave. Stop, it was for class! We decided to meet there instead of her office. Flor wanted to have 15-minute conferences with each of us about our blogs and the two papers due that day.
I was over an hour early. Had homework to finish up. I approached the counter. There were about six people behind it, more than ready to help me out with whatever I needed. I grabbed a menu, made eye contact, smiled, nodded as if to say, "Let me look at this for a second and collect myself," and sat down. The closest person across the counter from me understood--he smiled and nodded back--a bar/restaurant worker to be sure.
I sit for a bit and peruse the menu. Make my choice. Reapproach the counter. No one there.
I stand there for a long minute. This sloppy-looking tall guy in a ball cap sees me from the back of the hallway-shaped kitchen stretching behind the counter. Walks over goofily.
"I need chili cheese fries!"
"What?" Seriously?
"Can I have some chili cheese fries please? And a Coke?"
He takes the glass, uses it to scoop ice from the ice machine. If I wasn't grossed out by his appearance already, that did it. That and I knew there was no hand-washing between touching my glass and the cardboard. Lord knows where his hands had been before that.
I ask him where to sit where I won't be in any big tables' way. He is very helpful in this respect. He's gross, but very friendly. But when he brought my food, there was no napkin, no silverware. Then I see that water, cups, silverware and napkins are up by the counter. So I leave my food to sit there and get cold while I get up, unnecessarily, to get a fucking fork and napkins.
When I open a bar/restaurant one day, my employees will be groomed and attractive.
Oh, also the bartender and I kind of had a few icy interactions. She seemed irritated with my questions about the beers, especially when I didn't order one. She didn't exactly turn me on to the idea.
Florangela was late--had a last-minute interview just before. It was perfectly okay with me--I have great respect for her. Our conference went 10 min overtime, however, setting the stage for the rest of her evening.
An hour or so later, a classmate texted me and said he had been waiting almost an hour for his!
I knew there was a reason I signed up first. For one, there's the convenience of being done quickly. For another, Big Time Brewery sucks. In my opinion. For now.
My Kids Are Mostly Awesome
In other news, Lucy and BB were angels today. BB is teething and her mouth hurts and she's constantly sweaty, sticky, tired and cranky. Poor girl. Lucy didn't nap. Like I said, angels.
I never talk about it when they're good, only when they're bad, I realize. I'm a try to correct that.
I feel like I'm on a constant journey for self-improvement, letting go of all my childhood and teenage inadequacies.
It's never quite as successful as I'd like it to be. Possibly, that journey could reach it's final destination at any time, right? Nothing short of a miracle could make me a perfect person by the end of the day, but who's to say miracles are impossible? All my unfavorable personal tendencies could simply wash away, and I would be left with perfect personal satisfaction in every choice and action I make.
It makes a strange sense that this journey of mine, to a version of which few should label themselves unfamiliar, moves sluggishly: it's moving at the pace of life.
Also my skull is thick.
Life moves slowly! Personal character revelations, the big ones, would seem to naturally follow suit. That's all I mean.
(The olden ones always tell me, "Don't blink." I don't buy it.)
If I could learn everything today, I would. I mean, if learning everything had no negative consequences. Who can know?
There's an argument in favor of the slowness to be derived here: if I reached the end now, what fun would the rest of life be?
I disagree. There's ever an end to learning. Goals are to be reached, not constantly strived for and kept far away. Reach a goal, move on to the next one. That's more my style.
I am a conquerer. I am Ahab. I am also a little slow.
***
Class at Bar
Yesterday I met Florangela, my COM359 lecturer, at Big Time Brewery on the Ave. Stop, it was for class! We decided to meet there instead of her office. Flor wanted to have 15-minute conferences with each of us about our blogs and the two papers due that day.
I was over an hour early. Had homework to finish up. I approached the counter. There were about six people behind it, more than ready to help me out with whatever I needed. I grabbed a menu, made eye contact, smiled, nodded as if to say, "Let me look at this for a second and collect myself," and sat down. The closest person across the counter from me understood--he smiled and nodded back--a bar/restaurant worker to be sure.
I sit for a bit and peruse the menu. Make my choice. Reapproach the counter. No one there.
I stand there for a long minute. This sloppy-looking tall guy in a ball cap sees me from the back of the hallway-shaped kitchen stretching behind the counter. Walks over goofily.
"I need chili cheese fries!"
"What?" Seriously?
"Can I have some chili cheese fries please? And a Coke?"
He takes the glass, uses it to scoop ice from the ice machine. If I wasn't grossed out by his appearance already, that did it. That and I knew there was no hand-washing between touching my glass and the cardboard. Lord knows where his hands had been before that.
I ask him where to sit where I won't be in any big tables' way. He is very helpful in this respect. He's gross, but very friendly. But when he brought my food, there was no napkin, no silverware. Then I see that water, cups, silverware and napkins are up by the counter. So I leave my food to sit there and get cold while I get up, unnecessarily, to get a fucking fork and napkins.
When I open a bar/restaurant one day, my employees will be groomed and attractive.
Oh, also the bartender and I kind of had a few icy interactions. She seemed irritated with my questions about the beers, especially when I didn't order one. She didn't exactly turn me on to the idea.
Florangela was late--had a last-minute interview just before. It was perfectly okay with me--I have great respect for her. Our conference went 10 min overtime, however, setting the stage for the rest of her evening.
An hour or so later, a classmate texted me and said he had been waiting almost an hour for his!
I knew there was a reason I signed up first. For one, there's the convenience of being done quickly. For another, Big Time Brewery sucks. In my opinion. For now.
***
My Kids Are Mostly Awesome
In other news, Lucy and BB were angels today. BB is teething and her mouth hurts and she's constantly sweaty, sticky, tired and cranky. Poor girl. Lucy didn't nap. Like I said, angels.
I never talk about it when they're good, only when they're bad, I realize. I'm a try to correct that.
***
My Girlfriend is Hot
My girlfriend is hot.
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