Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

Dear Mr. Sandman, I would like to know why you have waged war on me? I desperatly want to sleep.  I need my sleep.  I love me sleep.  I enjoy dreams, the warmth of the covers, and the loss of five or six hours every night to blissful slumber.  I would even welcome some warm drool on my pillow right about now.   If I could only sleep, I would embrace some tricked out dreams too.  Seriously.  Me, being a good girl and all, requires someone to buy me a few dinners before inviting him into my bed.  But, Mr. Sandman for you I will always make the exception.  I have always been good to you, letting you have your way more nights than not . . . Sigh.  Apparently, you have not enjoyed me as much as I have enjoyed you.   Well, two can play this game.  I will wage my own war on you . . . I do not forgive you for taking me off of your route.  Bully! Sincerely, Sleep Deprived

There are things you can put on your Facebook status, and then there are things that you can not.  This blog is one of those things. I realize that everyone needs to bitch on occasion, and I realize that I do that from time to time.  What I can not understand is the desire that nothing is ever good enough or that everything must be suited to you.  Little pisses me off more.  Perhaps I am finally hitting my mark on these points because of recent events , crap of recent and old , or it is just life and my personality . Yet, I have the following to make note of here. I am fully aware that living up north for eight years has given me a skewed sense of winter.  I also know that living in Fort Wayne, Indiana (or Fort Rain, Windyana--as a friend's Mom noted it) for three years of my teens made me slightly indifferent to mass snow and rain.  I have a slew of other states and weather conditions I could make note of haired weather conditions, but those should su...

In light of the upcoming Naked Baby Angel Day holiday, and my known in-difference and often contempt for it , I bet many thought I would be spilling all kinds of ruckus humor at the latest infusion of candy coated pink and red assault of late. Yea, if I hadn't just gotten the news that I did you can bet your candy coated fingers and diamond studded jewelry that I would be. But . . . as life goes crap happens and February can now officially piss off. Tonight I got to read the news that an old friend and former grad school roommate died. Pisser indeed. You might remember mention of Heather from the Dave Diaz posting.  I met Dave via her, and rifling through my memories connects to two together in some ways and divides them apart in others.  Heather and I met by chance in Las Cruces, back in the fall of 1999. We were living in the grad apartments, and we shared the bathroom. Well, we quickly teamed up and moved off campus. We had a quaint little two bedroom on Foster R...

What can I say . . . a Shitty McVille Week. Sunday I came back from the mountains, just missing the downpours in Roanoke and Salem, and the drive was uneventful. I enjoyed the peace and comfort of the drive, and when I got back I went for a late night run. Then . . . then I got the joy of finding out that Jackass had a conversation with me about moving there and being with him hours before heading to the church and reception hall to get married. In case you need to review have a looky loo . Technically that occurred on Monday morning, which certainly didn't make the week project very well. I blew off some steam on my bike, after filling the tires with air, but the ride proved that my shocks are GONE and my endurance has gone to the wayside. On Tuesday I went to the library to do some work for the literacy council, which isn't so bad. But, since too many people view the library as their personal babysitter a four and five year old decided to make friends with me. T...

Tonight should have been a laid back and relax after a run kind of night. I should have been a good one, considering I just signed up for my favorite race (the Monument Ave 10K in March). But, the fates had to tinker with my relative state of calm . . . And some people can't leave well enough alone. Does anyone remember the last paragraph of this posing. Here is where I should tell you that no one is allowed to say just be done with it. Yea, you sit in my shoes and not have a single emotion. That is crap. You can be over someone, and then a moment like this will not bring back emotions of love. It will bring out emotions of outright contempt, hatred, and disgust. Not just for him--in this case--but also for me. I should note, that he gifted me a Tiger Army album a few years ago that I still haven't listened too. I got it two days after I encountered him and his now wife in a Starbucks parking lot. It was hours after conversing with me. Why I didn't hit him tha...

As I lay in bed, I blog from the Crackberry as I still can't sleep! Tonight, well in all fairness this morning, I attempted to run. I won't lie and say I've been gliding along...Posh! I haven't slepted my fat ass along the asphalt in months. But, today I decided I'd been stationary long enough (two months is too long). So, I plugged in my iPod--which I will not share with you because you'll know what kind of crappy music I listen too--tied on my trainers, donned a hoodie and entered the night air. It wasn't bitterly cold, so all was good. Then...about a mile in two red necks in pickups decided to turn on their brights. Yup, they blinded me so that I couldn't see, and in their wake my line of sight was speckled with little yellow dots. My zone was disturbed, and I ended up walking. As so many times before.. What is it with folks around here and going outta their way to screw up a run? I'm not making them run, so why they gotta bother me? Posh, indeed.

About a month and a half or so ago I had to go to an in-service type thing. Yea . . . yea . . . it connected to the Literacy Council I am running programs for so it was necessary. Aside from the strange looks and odd remarks about my being a PhD and all, things were okay. In terms of in-services it could have been a lot worse. I've had training meetings that were not remotely enjoyable. So this one wasn't painful at all. None the less, in the course of the day one of the GED instructors from a relatively close area (not the sticks like I live, but I won't tell you the city . . . confidentiality reasons) popped up and said "Yes, yes. I like to let the students help with the areas they are good in . . . or with math since it's harder for me. You know, like my Chinese students I always ask them to do the math on the board, since all Chinese are good with math." Yup, you got it. Excuse me, did anyone catch that racial stereotype/slur? ****** As of lat...