Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Weak in a week

Have you ever thought you had life handled and a week later you realized you cannot control your feelings and are the same person you were in high school? WTH Peterson!

I am strong. I am woman. Busy. Woman. Busy. Therefore, I should not have time for those concerns taking up all my background brain space. You know, when the back of your mind fills up with suggestions you completely TRY to ignore.

For example, when I see burrito fixings in my fridge and try to think of anything else for immediate consumption and end with an epic fail- that’s a good one. Or when you think you need a stuffed crocodile for display and yet how could that possibly make your standard of living higher? (Besides the obvious fact you’d have a sweet croc in your house- an excellent, semi-rare addition to your home, this may at a later date start to smell, epic fail #2.)

Unwittingly dwelling on such things is like trying a certain food you hate, once again, when you already know you don’t like it. Not only do I dislike figs, but would add I deplore them. Fact. I do not need to try them twice a year to do that, yet I consistently do it. Bah Peterson, be proactive towards your decision of disliking figs and do not try them again. You do not like them and probably never will.

Also, why does it bother me when people do not change their answering machine message on their phone, when I myself have decided I need not change my personal message? It’s not like I’m going to say anything infinitely more interesting the next time I record, and oftentimes it is infinitely less so.  

The unanimous decision is verily thus, I will finish that book this week. The book I am reading, not the one I am writing. Not yet. I am on a roll and do not wish to tumble off from the moon to everlasting outer space. Outer space is currently indebted to the noun time, as are we all.

Currently, I have a bone to pick with time. Time; who has been sending the short end of the emotional stick to ring my doorbell and put me out of sorts. Time: You and I are in a fight. This is no paltry fight, but a seriously serious fight in which I ultimately pinch you and win the caboodle.  There you have it time, prepare to be dominated as I finish reading my book and thereby lose all sense of you and finish my projects and books in one fell swoop.

Watch me own you and lose this feeling at the base of my loaded wits I never desired, did not ask for, nor deserve. I will conquer this and yes, I will do it today. I do not have a monopoly on time and it will surely be quite occupied tomorrow.

Also, time, when you lose, you can tell your friend I no longer have you.  You are free and thereby have no association with me. My one consolation is my hair grows longer daily and will surely be in the dreams of some unlucky man for the next three weeks. Take that! Time. 

1 comment:

emilyf said...

I wrote a letter to Time the other day. Told it to go to hell. Yep. Don't know what it'll do there, but may they go mad with it.