This is not like me.
The Deathwish Plague (so-called because nearly everyone I know has contracted it from someone else present at the January Deathwish) that has been threatening to hit since Friday began to arrive in earnest during coffee yesterday afternoon with TC. I am unsurprised and it was worth it. I'm still functioning clearly. But sore throats and coughs are annoying. So is weeping uncontrollably for no reason. Apparently, I've got that symptom too.
Ugh. Really.
from a Charlie Sheen meme |
Peej, just today, wrote about EXPECTATIONS. Those tricky little bastards. Coincidentally, I've been thinking a lot about them. And you all remember what I think about expectations...right? (Wow! I write a lot of blog entries about expectations. And reading through these, I like what I see.) So when someone tells me it's OK to have a few expectations, make a few assumptions, I have to say, "Thank you but no, really. Because no."
It's no slight. It's not mis-trust. It's not about the other person at all. Managing my expectations is about me and about knowing human nature and about knowing that, at any given moment, everything could change on a dime and become a swirling hurricane of chaos that renders said expectations null and void. I'd rather just enjoy each moment for what it is. So when that swirling hurricane of chaos sweeps us all out to sea, I can still smile and say, "I'm glad that happened."
So there's that.
Remember when liquor stores would deliver?
Me neither. But allegedly it used to happen.
I scribbled the following down in the middle of the night having awakened suddenly from an intensely vivid dream: "It's just like a virgin looking for the g spot. First he's got to find the right hole."
I have no context for it. I remember nothing more. But I think there's going to be one hell of a story surrounding it...once I'm ready to think about it.
I've got a poem on the tip of my tongue...not one I've written (I know, *whew*, right?) but one I can't quite remember. Something I've read, something I've been reminded of but cannot quite recall.
Instead, you're going to get this:
What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.
I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuff
that is fine -Walt Whitman from Song of Myself
I need more tea and comfort. Where's that cat?
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