palmerpink

I just don't know where anything is heading anymore. So, I'm still frustrated with my job, halfassedly looking for a new one. I've been trying moderately unsuccessfully to rekindle my writing. Suddenly I've been considering finishing school. I need to figure out what's important to me. For some reason, that question's been leading me to my writing. My non-existent writing. I guess because it's expressive, it's enduring, it's relevant. Selling perfume? Not gonna be remembered someday for all the fantastic perfume I sold. It's not that I need to be remembered or adored, just that what I do with the rest of my life, however long that may be, actually matter to me and maybe someone else. Right now I'm about as far from that as I think I can get. The job, as I've said, pisses me off a lot. I'm not terrible at it, but I'm also not good at it. And it consumes most of my time and energy and leaves me not only exhausted but wanting more

Right now, I feel like I'm running around trying to do all kindsa things I think I want to do and think I need to do, while unsure what I actually want or need. It ends up a noncommital mess of half-assery instead of any of the useful things I'd wanted in the first place. Of course, I'm exaggerating, somewhat. In reality, the bulk of it is confined to looking for jobs, considering school, and weighing moving out. And it's the how's and when's, as well as the which and which nots. Do I really want to saddle up the responsibility of going back to school right after starting a a new job? Is moving out of my parents' basement with its marginal rent and into a real place with real rent at the same time as incurring more student loan debt really that good of a plan? But these are things that, if artificially, would move my life forward. And it's felt ungratifyingly stuck in one place for much too long--my patience is running out, which is probably the worst f

Asking for help can be tough, but sometimes tougher still is figuring out what to ask for. I'm sitting outside my therapist's office before my appointment. And I keep wondering--what am I going to talk about? It's more a "where do I start...?" than a "what is there to say...?" situation, but either way it comes down to needing helping and wanting help but not being totally sure how to ask for it. There is some major (or at least majorly frustrating) dysfunction in my brain; of this much I'm certain. I'm not sure, though, where it's tripping me up or how it manages to trick me every time. So how do I ask for help? What am I asking for? It's rather a tricky trouble. I suppose I could focus on specific frustrations of the week, then talk with him of ways of approaching them differently, etc. But it isn't just with him I need to work on asking for help. I have other resources I don't (adequately, responsibly) take advantage of. Fr

Things are slow sometimes; sometimes it's hard to see any changes at all. It's especially easy to overlook them when you doubt them regularly. But how much does worrying get you? I like talking big changes. Sometimes I'll break them out and talk myself into thinking it's all terribly easy, then let myself down anyway with a monumental lack of motivation. I've had better luck with aiming for smaller changes. Like, I've had "job look" in my to do list for an age and a half or so now, roughly meaning "look for/at job possibilities". Granted it can be pretty simple depending on interpretation--like, look on craigslist and see what there is that sounds reasonable. I've even done it a couple times and felt both bucked up and let down. Because even then, but especially in more broad implementation, there are other steps in "job look" that I have to get organized. And that can be scary. But even in that, I can try marshalling it alon

So the last couple posts weren't made from your conventional kind of computer. No, they were written on what experts call a "tablet". That's right, kids. I did it. I got my tablet. :) I opted for the Asus Transformer Prime--it's glorious. I love the keyboard dock--it's what I'm typing with, and what's extending my battery enough to even allow me to type this. Cuz, you know, I'd been playing so many games that it that the tablet's battery was about to die. What's nice is how long its battery does last--even without the extra battery in the dock. Also nice is how long my phone's battery can last now that i'm not using it to play games, type blogs, or check my calendar (or when there's wifi, watching youtube and hulu and stuff). I take it with me on all my lunch breaks, yeah to play games, but also, in the last few days, to catch up on the news and opinions and analysis of the day or continue reading some book on Kindle. Frankly

I hate being sick more than just about anything I can imagine. Nothing can match the frustration and furious feverings, nor the lost time and energy. I love a good excuse to nap as much as anyone, of course, but tossing and turning between coughing fits and flashes of fever & chills is not cool . Then there's that fuzzy headed acheyness when your cranium gets all full up on phlegm and mucous. That soggy brained feeling mixed with a dull, ceaseless pain. Don't get me started on how much I hate snot in any form--a hatred conditioned over many years of terrible allergies. But let's not forget that infuriating uselessness--between losing the ability to form contiguous (nevermind cohesive) thoughts to the leaden ache in every joint and limb...how are you supposed get anything done like that?? But of course that's just it. Everyone stops expecting you to be a productive member of society when you're sick. Which you'd think would be some kind of blessing except

So I didn't want to go out the other day. I had off and told myself I wanted to do laundry, as I've done I now realize so many times before. It's a tempting fantasy, you know? The intention of doing right, of being responsible. There's a weak but still gratifying sense of accomplishment in saying "I'm going to do ____" or "I'm going to be responsible today..." . Even if you don't end up doing it at all. Even when you don't end up doing anything at all. Part of why my friends held an intervention for me was they wanted me to know I'm not alone; that I have people and resources to help me. Lord knows I have spent more than enough time trying to do or change things wholly on my own and never gotten anywhere nor even learned from that. I just keep going at it as self-sufficiently as I can and not getting anywhere by it. So when Parker asked me to go see our therapist yesterday, I realized what I'd done the day before. I'd t

Yesterday three of the people closest to me spoke with me about their concerns. I'll admit, they were my concerns also. But it felt so compelling to hear them say the same things I'd been saying to myself--only now with much less snark and sarcasm and deprecation as I'd used. They were concerned with things like my life's lack of order, goals, self-respect, and other stuff. Some things I hadn't quite gotten around to beating myself up over but hearing their concern was no less compelling because of that. Like personal hygiene. How often on days off I'll just forego a shower here or there. (It's my day off, I can be a dirty bum right?? Except that, more often than not, it's part of something broader and even less savory--a general lack of drive, self-respect, and ambition for the day. So I guess they had a point in bringing it up, eh?) They also wanted me to know they're there to help. That's kinda a terrifying offer for me; I guess I'm stil

Mornings are a very dangerous time. At least, that's what I've found. For me a simple poor morning choice or two can decide the quality and satisfaction of the rest of the day. It's nuts, but it's been hard to counteract so far. I'm sure this is in my top three most redundant and boring post topics, but alas it's what's on my mind today. I'll try to post about something more interesting later on--you know, like, about plants or something. I'll focus on days off since they're the most dramatic example, and today we're not interested in the ordinary. So, whether I end up spending a day doing laundry and working out and other gratifying things/chores or whether I waste it sleeping and masturbating and internetting mindlessly seems to come down to what commitments I make in the AM hours. Like, today, I slept in a bit, sure, but then I decided to do things. Like blog and check on bills and drink coffee and workout. Likely I'll continue w

And in a spasmodic shock, suddenly I find myself on the verge of moving out. Or something like that. Yesterday, Parker, I, and our friend Steph went around to a couple of apartment leasing offices and asked questions and looked at rents & square footages & numbers of bedrooms. Then we went to Pizza Hut to talk serious. Is this really happening? Suddenly I find myself talking things like weekly roommate meetings and shares of rent and pros+cons lists. Suddenly, things I'd been writing about months ago are just happening . Of course, they aren't really  just happening . We (read: Parker) got off our asses and started doing shit for a change. But I'm a good team player; I can fall in step--and run with it. I've already mathed out rent share scenarios and roommate contingencies. I'm planning to research some other apartment places in the area. I've even started thinking outside of the box and considered not rooming with Parker . It's a scary thought

So it was mother's day yesterday, yeh? so here's what my family did: Ordered pizza, watched tennis, and chilled. Today we might go out and golf ! If it stops raining. Heck, maybe even if it doesn't. They wouldn't have it any other way, either. We're a bit odd. We barbecued Easter dinner, for heaven's sake. But I love them, mostly. I dunno if it's because they're my family and I have to love them or if they're my family and I can't help  but love them. They raised me, helped make me who I am, and have always been a bit kooky about it. So it's what I've come to expect, to enjoy about them. After a quarter century of this, it seems a bit normal to me. If I say "...and I wouldn't have it any other way" it's probably because I don't know any other way they could be and still be the people I've known and loved for 25 years. It just wouldn't be them to be any other way, and that's why I like it. Beca

No, not really, but I did have a blast last night and damn proud of it. Three friends and I hit up some gay joints in town and made a night of it. Wonderful times were had and friendships were deepened. Except with Parker, who was clearly too straight to be cool like the rest of us. Bitch wouldn't even fake dance. But we forgiae him because he's sweet. See, I don't normally do stuff like this. I'm secretly kind of shy and a bit timid. Like a lot a bit. But it's something I want to do more--go out with friends, mingle with queers, check out hotties, get my ass grabbed now and then by weirdos (and occasionally hotties). It's a good time and something I know I don't do enough of. So when my friend Matthew invited me out, I jumped at it. When I got Aaron and Parker on board, I got pretty stoked. Part of why I never go out like this is, as I said, that shyness and stuff; having friends to go with, people to feel comfortable around--it's what I need to get

So I realized last night I cant think of a favorite color anymore. It used to be green, like sage or olive greens, but now...I can't really say it's my favorite . I think it's from working on retail. I no longer shop in terms of "ZOMFUG!! I love that green thing!!" but rather "oh, that's nice, that is very nice..." "that is such a nice green (or red or navy blue or gray or whatever color; it's less out of generally loving that color family as seeing specific colors on specific items that I react to specifically)." or "that looks so cute with this (or that thing I have at home)". Which is another side effect of retail, if being surrounded by and considering endless items & combinations of clothing: I sometimes sound dangerously like Daria's sister Gwen ("oh, that is so cuuuuu ute!! ").... So I can either get used to it and accept what a who're for retail the retail industry has made me or I can rise up

I dunno what to call it, just that it was really nice. I didn't ret up particularly early, but neither did I fritter much time on wanking or sleeping excessively. Specifically, I got up, poked around on my phone for a bit, then decided how nice it would feel to go get my bag packed for work. Just get everything outta the way and outta mind until I had to leave (I still had, at that point, about 4 hours until I needed to be anywhere). So I did, and it was relatively painless. Then, while I was already in my clothes area, I gathered up some laundry and took it upstairs to put it in the wash. Then I made some breakfast and loaded the dishwasher. Then I ate my oatmeal and drank my coffee while catching up on some reading on the porch. I helped mom with some porch furniture related stuff, worked out a bit, showered, biked to work and still had time to spare. It's amazing what you can get accomplished when you decide to actually get up and do something. Any or all of those things I

I was discriminated against the other night. In fact, I've been discriminated like this every day of my life. Truth is, I don't entirely care; I'm not interested in 'bucking' the System' so much as 'strongly questioning' it. Very strongly. So, I bike to work. Naturally I wear regular street clothes for that. No need ruining good work clothes with the commute--especially with summer on its way. When I get to work, I go in through the Associate Entrance, put my things in my locker, then proceed to the other side of the store to change my clothes. I realized earlier this week that on my way to the bathrooms, as I walk through that lingerie section, women's ready to wear, and whatever that other one is, I must be passing at least two fitting rooms. Like, areas with a dozen fitting rooms each. It occurs to me--those are actually closer, and easier, and more reliable, than the stall in the men's rooms. I have to ask myself--why not hop in a fitting

So I'm down to the last week or so of my The Patch regimen. So I haven't had a cigarette in basically forever. It's weird; this step uses a 7mg patch (the step before it was 14mg for 6 weeks), but I often forget to put it on. In that, I hardly notice when I haven't put a new one on. It's an odd feeling. I almost forget that I ever smoked. I smoked for 7 years, and, although never quite a chain smoker, you'd think that might still register. That was, I suppose, why I opted for The Patch instead of cold turkey. I knew those odd habitual moments or split second decisions/cravings would destroy my attempts at quitting. Turns out The Patch worked better than I anticipated?

Needless to say, only a few of things I set out for myself to do Saturday actually got done/worked on. I'm not exactly surprised nor guilted, but something occurred to me this morning. Part of my problem is, and has always been, putting enjoyments before responsibilities instead of earning them through responsible decisions & progress. Like, that night last week where I did all that laundry and polished my shoes and felt kinda normal; when I made the to-do list at work that day I committed myself to accomplishing most or all of it before I could even touch  my computer. I decided that I would have to earn the right to goof off on the computer by taking care of (long overdue) chores. And it actually worked. Heck, I wasn't even worrying too much about all the computer game playing time or masturbation I was missing out on while I did my laundry, and I hardly even worried about it after I was done, too. And most importantly: a very large amount of my laundry was actually

Today I am officially (credit card) debt free! The balance on my long-expired BofA card is at -$6, actually. So now they owe me. Yippee! But there are other grownuppy things mingling about this morning.... There are of course some of the many irresponsible distractions skulking about, too. I just went on a 5 - 10 minute facebook diversion, followed by a 5 minute music decisioning bit (I actually call that more of a neutral player as I think we can all agree that now and then life is no good without the appropriate soundtrack). There is of course blogging this post, too, but it's a necessary sacrifice of inertia as I haven't been blogging much of anything lately. It might even focus me some. One tricky thing, though, is despite this rare urge to confront things like mounds of paperwork & filing, tidying & cleaning, workouts & self grooming, and such, it's kind of a listless  sort of urge at this point. Almost a restlessness--a responsible  restlessness,

But it kinda is--but don't worry cuz it totally isn't! It's called  network marketing , see?? Oy. So I spent about three hours of my day off yesterday participating in a group interview for this job offer I got. Of all the job offers I've gotten on the salesfloor at Macy's, the one I actually followed up ended up the skeeviest. Thanks, life. This guy explained through his life story, two presentations, and a otherwise info-overloading how we could make a ton of money, and what a no brainer! 'Of course we don't need to hear about any specific products (it's patented NDS technology and 30 day money back guarantee sell itself!!!), but obviously we do have a product because that's what makes us legal. Oh, btw, buy our product then get people to sign up with you. Power of two!!!' Between all the info-overload, the buzzwords, and stats and the bit about buying in and recruiting more "business partners"...I didn't quite feel at eas

So I've been biking to work again. As I realized this week, I could  have been again for a while, but was prolly just too pussy/lazy. Lame. Meanwhile, I rediscovered my saddle-bag-like-bike-attachy-bag thing. You know those things. Yeah. Anyway, it's waterproof. And big enough to pack an entire change of clothes and then some. So basically if I suit up with a light raincoat, my bag-thing, and push off on rainy days like today, I can still get to work and burn some calories and feel good and change and be awesome. That's pretty cool, right? What's also nice about the bag thing is, since it's not slung over my shoulder but hooked to the side of my bike, it's not throwing off my weight as much. For realz. I've discovered I can do all the wibbly wobbly things again, like leaning into turns and directing the bike with my abs/lower body. It's really cool! It also feels so much nicer than those heavy ass bags giving me all kindsa back aches. Mhm. Anyway

Besides the obvious and infuriating irony of the situation , I think part of why losing my wallet upset me as much as it did was due to my long, frustrating habit of losing things. Usually at bad times. Or so my brain tells me. It probably comes as no surprise that I'm a bit absent-minded, harebrained even. A nutty professor type (crossed with strains of Hunter S. Thompson and Joan Didion, or so I console myself). That I lose things--lots--is just part of my shtick. But it's really fucking annoying most of the time. Recently I've lost three-ish things that were of moderate to significant importance to me, the aforeblogged wallet my housekeys (which also had a copy of my bike key and the little scanny thing for the gym) my bike light (that thing was badass). Sigh. It's just frustrating. And sucky. And it keeps happening. I wonder if it's a problem of personal organization? Or stuff? Probably. But that would prolly require some organization on my part to g

Well, that's an exaggeration, but it's in the name of...um...a mildly ironic play on words necessitated by a lack of anything cleverer. Totally. So I got asked on a really lovely date for last night. Nothing too crazy. Just grabbing gelato in Chinatown and walking the National Mall. Kinda sweet, really; certainly a lovely way to meet and get to know someone, yeah? But I'd lost my wallet. Of course, I'm too proud/unsmart to think to ask someone to lend me cash (like, 3 different people all said they would've), and of course I look everywhere. So I got to look kind like a lameass. I mean the guy seems to be pretty understanding but...still. I feel  like a jerk all the same. What sucked was I couldn't even buy myself a pizza to console myself! How unfair is that!? You know, in a totally it-was-prolly-for-the-best-you-didn't-you-fat-asshole kinda way. But then I found it. I found my damn wallet. In my gymbag. In the pocket I normally would have put it

So many things wrong with that. I mean I know she has a penis but I doubt I'd want to touch it. (score one for suggesting 'strong' women are actually men! >.<) Point is, I'm gay, and evidently liberal, also ostensibly frontal-lobe capable, so it's an absurd suggestion. And yet some ad-bot seems to think otherwise. Clearly, she's in a fairly weak disguise on the right.  As I was browsing and replying to some hot guys on OKcupid, the adslot on the right was trying to hook me up with some hot local singles! Except they were girls. (Clearly, the adbot is under Coulter's influence!) I wasn't really paying any attention (as is often the case with anything that has boobs) until one face caught my eye--Coulter badly disguised as a glossy lipped, dark haired harlot!! Supposedly these adbots are supposed to stalk your interests and deliver enticingly relevant goodies you can't help but click. Right? So while I suppose it's on track with offer

A good several weeks ago I plagiarized/stole/otherwise made off with a rather brilliant idea from a friend of mine : He had inherited a couple of bow ties along with a bunch of neck ties when he came to DC to work as a senate aide, so since he didn't have enough to wear one every  day he declared Bow Tie Tuesdays. So now, every Tuesday I work at Macy's, I wear bow ties. Sometimes suspenders, too. It's kinda pretty much awesome. I have about 4 bow ties now (purple+polkadot, black, orangeblacksilver plaid, and black&white plaid) and they rock. It's funny, people see you/me with a bow tie and assume that a) it's a thing or b) you're awesome. I'm okay with either of those conclusions because both are obviously true. So: Everyone: wear a bow tie today if you can. Preferably one you tie yourself (don't be a poser), and preferably a cool one (redundant!). Let's make Bow Tie Tuesday a thing!

There are many things I should do more of. Laundry. Poetry. Cleaning my cat's litterbox (but who really wants  to?). I feel like lately I've devoted a lot of time to blogging about things I should be doing more of (including, of course, blogging.) There's some disconnect, unsurprisingly enough, as, despite all the times I've written about needing to do stuff more, I never really seem to. /obviousness. It's prolly something worth figuring out--getting myself into action more. Being less grandiose & sweeping might help, now that I think about it. I usually make these comprehensive-ish plans that sound all good and thorough and reasonable....yet still fall through. Like that whole getting up in the morning to bike to the gym before work? Hasn't really happened. Maybe I should break it up--get into getting up at 6something and staying  up. Start off catching the bus or something a few times until I'm used to/value the routine of going to the gym enough t

It feels like a cop out saying this, but I guess I got busy? Thing is I can't exactly  say what I was so busy with--work, dating, relaxing, or miscellaneous. I do that though. You give me free time, I expend it randomly but thoroughly. It sucks that there have been some interesting things in the news or articles I've read that I wanted to comment on but never got around to. I guess I'll see if any are still viable relevance-wise. Honestly, nothing too serious seems to have happened. Maybe that's why I wasn't blogging--nothing to blog about. (Plus laziness; the fewer juicy, angsty, or otherwise intriguing things that happen the less my posts write themselves.) A lot of the stressy credit card stuff at work has lifted (I still need credit but I'm less worried about it). Basically, I have a better grasp of its relevance while also playing to my strengths...and stuff. Oh well, this post sucked, I'll try to post something useful/relevant/interesting later

I don't really want to get caught up in the Google Privacy Policy fray because a) flamey controversy sets my teeth on edge and b) so much of it sounds like self-interested competitors and self-interested media-holes putting spins of various sort for either profit or attention and c), as far as I can tell, I don't much care. Maybe it's because I'm such a millenial; the internet is my home. All the same, if you're not totally caught up on it here's a Slate article explaining the big problems with and some possible solutions for Google's Privacy Policy. I generally like Slate for most things interesting, though I would point out some irks I find in the article. But mainly I want to point out some different perspectives on this--my own, at the least--to maybe lend some depth to the discussion. Fat chance, but it's all I've got to say. For one, I personally have more than one google account, one for porniness, one for everything else; I also ha

I don't want you getting the wrong idea, of course. Yes, last night's post was probably angstier than necessary, but really I'm fine. Considering how much worse I could have bitched & angsted (and, in the past, have been known to), it was a pretty mellow post. I usually avoid too much angst--and certainly too much finger pointing--as it rarely helps. It usually only ends up making me look whiney and lame. Not sexy. The title referred to that--that the post could have been so much worse. It also referred to the fact this guy was a pretty good find--heartening evidence that there are good guys out there I get along with. It may not have worked out quite to my liking, but frankly, it was still kinda a win. I think what really had me more upset was that I didnt' need to feel so upset and knew as much but still felt upset somehow. Besides being counterproductive, I knew feeling so frustrated was largely unwarranted. And yet my emotional mind often wins over my other

Lord knows I really want to rant right now; I've been angrier, sure, and I've felt more hurt, but the temptation is there to tear into this guy. But I'm supposed to be a grown up. He's supposed to be my friend--and I do care about that. I'm not supposed to even be taking these things so seriously anymore. So why the fuck am I? So I was dating a guy recently; we had four dates. I thought we were really starting to click. I'll admit it--I'd even begun to like the guy. Not quite like-like him, but there was a definite fondness growing. As I was learning more about him, I was liking what I learned more and more. We seemed to have chemistry, too. It was pretty nice how I could talk about smart stuff with him without either a) feeling like I was supposed to be talking down to him or b) feeling like he had to challenge me to a contest of who was the smartest fuck in the room. It was natural, intelligent, fun conversation. And that was really cool. I was defin

So I mused (to myself) a bit on this in the other day's post, but The other day I blogged about self-determination in Afghanistan . In that post, I referred to Max Fisher's article in The Atlantic , in which he explains the significance of the recent outbreaks of violence in Afghanistan in terms of muzzled self-determination. Part of me wanted to muse, then, on whether he really meant ' popular sovereignty ', though I soon figured he prolly didn't. Still, it was interesting, if utterly idle, to reflect on the differences between the terms, and what impact the choice of either would have had on the content of the argument. While self-determination deals with a nation's right to make decisions for itself without outside intervention, popular sovereignty seats the authority & legitimacy of a legislative body and its laws with the people it governs and is elected by. Still, though, if you look at the article he could have meant some mixture of either. T

It is no secret that a good deal of my personal philosophy is rooted in principles of self-determination and such. So when I read this article in The Atlantic, " If Afghans Want to Reject the U.S. and Embrace Theocracy, That's Their Right ", I was pleased as punch. That part of the article's title--"That's Their Right"--is philosophically delicious. In this article, Max Fisher argues that whatever path Afghans choose, regardless of whether it is "right" or "wrong", it is their right to make that choice, not ours. This whole Afghan outrage itself may signal the end of our continued presence's justifcation. "If Afghans reject the international force then the most basic conceit of this decade-long war -- Westerners partnering with Afghans to rebuild their country -- will have collapsed, and the U.S.-led mission along with it." That analysis may sound rough-handed, I guess, but it's honest. Frankly, I agree with it.

This work crap has gotten a bit better but it still dogs me badly. At this point, I'm less absorbed by the agonizing worry & overthinking than I am simply painfully aware not meeting my own exaggerated demands. Slight improvement, yeah? This is literally what I look like at work. That is something, though. I've realized that much of this boils down to a few bad habits of thinking and a lot of anger. It's just got my head all wrong really; these bad habits of thinking prey upon something basic in how I operate. The result is the sorta-nervous-wreckness I've been experiencing the last half a week or so. Although my managers may want me to get dozens of people to sign up for credit cards each week, I only really need  about 5 a week. Anything more is awesome (more Macy's Money and stuff!) but as long as I can get 5+ cards, I = success. It's easy though to get caught up in my managers' expectations, to make their demands my own, to measure myself by

Every time I struggle with something, it seems to always boil down to the same thing: that initiating moment, that starting point. Some stupid mental block I've put in my own way keeps me from beginning  and it stresses me out. Case in point, the topic of last night's blogpost . The funny thing is more often than not I'm perfectly capable of whatever the task is, I'm just too panicked to give it a go. A therapist once described it this way: it's like I imagine my comfort zone to be very, very small, when in fact it's actually quite a bit larger. 'Who knows  what could happen if I try this? Anything could happen--and that's scary.' The result? Plenty of things I'm perfectly capable of doing but perfectly scared of trying. This is the sort of thing I've prayed about from time to time; it usually helps, I should probably get back into it. It's rarely anything fancy--usually invoking Walt Whitman for moral support of some kind--but it'

I'll be brief, perhaps...for once...I'm weary. You may be in luck. For reasons beyond my caring, my store--my department, especially--has upped its game credit wise. That is, in getting people signed up for our store credit card. All well and good--in fact when I actually talk to people about credit I can be pretty convincing and find it fairly easy (the talking about it part, at least). But now we've added a new dimension. I don't know if it's just our new way of doing things or simply because it's slow, but we've taken to the aisles to solicit  people to apply for our card. Nobody else seems to have had any trouble with this. I, on the other hand, have been near my breaking point for two days in a row. It's not that I can't talk about our credit card or lack confidence--I could list a dozen ways to save and how they're relevant to you and your interests--it's just the talking  part. To random people. About something they might (might!

I shouldn't have been surprised that, although really excited to go to the gym in the AM to the a-gain , that this morning would prove difficult. Today I have work at 1:30pm instead of 9:45am. That throws things off more than you might expect. My brain is a stupid thing much of/pretty much most of/all of the time. If it perceives any leeway, it overrides any sensible use of time. Lack of discipline. Give it an inch, it takes a mile, or however that goes. So on mornings like today, when I don't have  to be anywhere until much later, it/I will happily forget/rationalize other important things I merely  wanted  to do, regardless of how important they were to me. I first woke up at 6:30am to Garrison Keillor reading me a poem called "1000 Yard Oar Boat" or something; I took my meds and went back to sleep until 7 when my phone went off. Typical morning although trying to break that habit bit by bit (it used to be I'd routinely dismiss the 7am alarm and sleep till 8

So I actually went to the gym before work today. About a week or two ago I mathed that working out before work--before my Macy's opens at 9:45am--was not only feasible but a great idea. Today I actually did it. And you know what? It was a good idea. It gave me a solid excuse to get up at 7ish, for one. As long as I can tell myself "I don't need to be  anywhere until, like 9:30..." I can keep hitting that snooze button and rolling back over for another 5minutes. Today...I don't know. Whereas the last week or so I continued as I had--lazing out instead of working out--I got up and went. Maybe it was because I was getting a ride from Parker. Maybe I was just fed up with the assholes who pump iron in the evening. Whatever was different about today, I went. And it was really nice. There was hardly anyone there, and those that were were such a better, nicer mix of people. Between the people squeezing in a nice, if leisurely, bit of lifting for their health before