Overthunk

That title, in a nutshell, is why I've been absent from these hallowed halls the past 14 days -- the inherent duality of the universe has been completely and utterly evident in that space of breathing and blood flow that I occupy, trapping me inside an existential yin-yang constructed of both ouchy mountains and comfy clouds. Carpet A fortnight ago, my bathroom toilet decided to plot its revenge for my continual assaults and quietly overflow while I was at work. Of course I didn't discover it until several hours later, so I returned home not only to my usual floor-full of already-stained, beige, tract housing carpet, but with the added bonus of squishy sound effects, and after a few days, unbearable stank. All the carpet in the house had to be pulled up and industrial fans had to run for about a week to dry the place out. I suppose it's not so bad. I wanted laminate anyway. Honor Though nominated last year, this year, I was elected Teacher of the Year for my particular sch

Sometimes, I entertain random messaging on the interwebs. Sure, I know it's foolish but I sometimes do. I think it has something to do with ongoing research about what percentage of the human race has anything interesting to say. By current estimates, data approaches approximately 1.2%. And you, of course. The other night I was bantering boringly with some random jackass. The conversation wasn't moving along very swimmingly at all. He kept quizzing me about general life info: what do I do, kids, family, hobbies, sorry your parents are dead, blah, blah, etc. Then after about 40 drawn out moments, in which I was giving halfass answers and chatting with two other (interesting) people, reading Wikipedia or some such at the same time, he says, "So do you want to be my gf?" Hmm. GF. Garden Funder? Grappling Fondue? Gargoyle Foot? He also refused to send any pics at first, asking, "Is my appearance all that important to you?" and then when he did, it looked like he

Do you ever just come home from toil and go and lie down, not sleeping nor waking? "Who has time?" you may ask. I don't have time either, but I do it anyway. Always have. It's a need, sort of. When I do this, odd stuff floats to the surface of my consciousness. Just now, this thought emerged slowly from the unformed ether: "If I die tomorrow, I will at least know this about myself:" A few seconds later, a rough-edged, unvarnished truth emerged: "I live more in the world of ideas than in the real world." It's true, I say. ----------------------- "Say hello." -- Deep Dish (Angello & Ingrosso remix)

I don't get Lou Reed. By "don't get" I mean I don't understand what the big deal is about him and why he's considered so influential when the majority of folk have only ever heard one song. With a lot of crusty, bleak, grim artists (see Pink Floyd), maybe I don't like their stuff but I get it, I fathom their influence; however, with Reed, no. Just no. I'd rather listen to Skid Row's "I Remember You" and be called a musical cretin than sit through just one more time of "Walk on the Wild Side." Ugh. Sebastian Bach up. If you do get him, please explain.

When at Starbucks, I have a moral, jingoistic, and/or Texan instinctual thing going in which I refuse to order in Italian, as posted on and imposed by their menu. I also don't order a latte, or half-caff anything. I just say "a large coffee with cream and Equal." The other day when I did this, I actually had to explain what I meant by large: Baristo: "You mean venti?" Me: "Uhmm, yes. ::thinking to self:: " We're still speaking English. You are officially brainwashed, you clueless cog in the international corporate machine, you." -------------------------- Being part of a huge, lumbering, mammoth, inefficient school district, I occasionally have to attend trainings which seem virtually pointless. I had to do this recently. While there, someone corrected my drawing of a multiplication array. I drew this: 3 X 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Her contention was that I should've drawn this: 3 X 5 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . My assertion is tha