Where I was...

This post is mostly a link to one of my favorite posts. This is where I was a year ago. I've been rereading some of my blog randomly lately. I've been astonished to read some of the things I've written. Finding gems amonst the mud and muck like a treasure hunter. I'm not surprised by this post though. It's never the wrong time to tell someone what you want.

Incessant ticking

TIme. We all want more time. Or less time. Or we are happy we are on time. All these things in our lives revolve around the swing arms of a mechanical beast called a clock. The period between particular moments is called time. Yes, We all know this.

I'm reflecting on time, because this week, I seem to have found a control for time in my life. I'm not saying this is everyone's control, but it's an interesting one that I've discovered. It's probably not the only time control in my life either, but it's one that has me intrigued at the moment, so we'll deal with it.

When my life is ordered and my home is clean and neat, time passes much more slow. I'm not saying it drags, but rather that time moves at a pace which feels like I don't have anything to do. I don't. No dishes linger in the sink, no clothes on the bedroom floor. No snack plates or cups left at the site of the last feeding.

With less to do, you feel as though you have more time. On Monday, I'll invariably hear a plethora of people commentate on their weekend that it went by too quickly. In my mind, I'm going to wonder if it's because of mental clutter. If your mind was clear, would your weekend have proceeded at a higher rate of leisure? I don't know. I'm not living your life, I'm living mine.

What controls time in your world?

Dreamscapes

Do you have one of those points in the morning when you are trying to sleep, but you suddenly do something and you are awake. Not wide alert awake, like a bolt of lightning coursed through you, but awake enough to sense in your mind that you aren't going back to sleep no matter how comfortable the bed and the soft sheets are?

I hate this moment with an absolute passion. I'm thinking about morning people and how they rise to meet the day. I have this little theory. These people don't have vivid dreams. See, I like to sleep. It means I'm dreaming (Or I'm going to be.) I have epic dreams. Action, adventure and sometimes even a little romance. There is no over acting, no misplayed parts. Adrenaline surges and if it were a theater, you'd hear the oohs and ahhs from the very last row.

So, my theory is that Morning People have no internal entertainment system. Sure, they dream, but they don't dream vivid epics. Otherwise, they wouldn't want to get out of bed so bad. Perhaps they have Dream Light. Perhaps they even dream in black and white. How horrible would that be? Dream Light - enough dream to keep your body rested with what it needs, but no entertainment value. Perhaps it's like old re-runs where you know what is going to happen so you don't pay much attention, more of a peripheral kind of thing.

Some words i like

Verklempt

Skulk

Obsequious

Sagacious

Cranium

Jiggle

Back from hell

You ever have a very good day and at the end you feel unease? You can't identify the cause. You think you covered all the bases. Went to work on time, hit every meeting. Nailed the big presentation. Maybe you even smiled at the secretary that helped you in someone else's office. Got home at a reasonable hour and even managed to eat at what most people consider dinner time.

Mix yourself your favorite cocktail and sit and relax knowing you did no damage today and perhaps even some good. You didn't curse anyone in traffic (loudly anyway). Maybe you didn't even aggressively drive. You didn't kick the dog or cat (I have neither so it's a moot point).

Then you realize you've reengaged a nervous tick you thought you squelched years ago. Just a little. You tell yourself it's OK. That you can stop it. And you do. For a few minutes. Then you catch your self in that familiar pattern. Again. And again. Again. FUCK!

Happiness today

Today, happiness is a clean and ordered house. I had the maids in today and I just love the feeling of walking through my house after they leave. The carpets bear only one set of marks. My solitary footprints meandering through the soft textiles. The countertops glossy and unmarred by any mark. Not a spec of dust on any surface I can see. Yes, a clean and ordered house. Happiness contained.

Swallow this

There is something decidedly romantic about drinking an aged wine fresh from the cellar with the dust of time layered upon the bottle. The simple act of selecting such a wine for consumption. Then the ritual of setting foil cutter to capsule and subsequently removing the cork with a hand held corkscrew. An act tat has been played more than hamlet for years upon years.

The delicate pour like spring rains after a long drought. The fresh clean aroma of fruit rising from the glass. The first sip to ascertain the quality of the choice. Nectar upon your palate. Complex flavors to tease and arouse the senses. Each sip from the delicate glass a burst of flavor and sensation. A veritable carnival of decadence and lust brought to fruition.

Core delight

Why is the center of a cinnamon roll the absolute best tasting part? Is it because it's the last bite and you are trying to soak every minute particle of savory excellence from the bit of bread, sugar and cinnamon remaining? Perhaps you squandered the first few bites in your rush to devour the treat before you. Perhaps it's because there are no hard edges on the center roll. I think perhaps this is how that cinnamon roll company (I won't name) makes such fantastic rolls. No hard cooked edges. Just all delectable morsels to be inhaled. Gooey delight that you couldn't pick up without a fork if you tried. If you did, you might end up chewing off your little fingers.

All that AND a bag of chips

People often date themselves by talking about the price of gas. "I remember when when gas was .29 a gallon or .69" or whatever price it was.

I've found a new measure. A bag of chips. Used to be a bag of chips weighed 1 pound and it cost 99 cents. Now, you get a mere 2 3/4 OZ for 99 cents and 4.5 oz for 1.39. I don't even think you can buy a 1 pound bag of chips anymore.

I went to the store to buy some chips for the 4th yesterday (I mean, you can't really have the 4th of July without some traditional BBQ food can you?) I picked up the bag and it felt like all I had grabbed was the plastic foil bag and a pile of air. I had to do a double take to make sure I'd actually picked up the bag.

I saw a clip on TV a few years ago and the producers were trying to claim that the smaller bags (then about 9 oz) was consumer driven. Yeah, I know so many people were writing to Lays, Doritos, Utz, etc... saying, "Look, the bags are just too big, we can't eat that many chips. Can you please make them smaller? Oh, and while you are at it, can you keep the price the same so we think we are getting the same thing in the bag?"

Pretty soon, we'll be paying 99 cents for 5 chips. That's not even a Portion is it?


Image Copyright Doritos

Simply put

Today, just for a minute stop somewhere when you are in a hurry around other people. Look around and see what is really happening. Really see, don't just look. Is there something in your vision that you can affect? Can you make someone smile? Can you make someone's day easier?

See, I'm not in a good mood tonight. Too much packed in my head and no way to get it out. This one thing keeps circling though. Like a little speck of flotsam that won't go down the drain. How much more could we do if we just slowed down a couple of times a day. Not save the world kind of stuff, but just little things. We don't ever imagine we are going to save the world, but perhaps we can make it a little more than it was.

Is there an echo in here? *sigh*