palmerpink

The trick to expectations isn't so much to not have any as it is to identify their merit, accept their context, and allow them to change. Failure to do so? Likely causes that disappointed feeling you can never quite pin down when things don't work out. Yesterday was my birthday; last night was going to be 'part 1' of my birthday celebrations. A sort of mild midweeky get together. I had hoped--I had expectations of--a good group of friends would come, we'd see something thought provoking, and then get some food and discuss stuff--life, the universe, and everything, or just the movie. Why were those my expectations? I like doing those things; I value them highly. I like my friends for their points of view, their senses of humor, their articulateness; I love discussion as a means of exploring different perspectives and relishing being alive & close to people. And I love a good movie. Really, really love. I don't get to do these things anywhere near enough,

Now my relationship with pasta can be more geekishly intimate than ever before.... Pasta Geometries - Interactive Feature - NYTimes.com - http://pulse.me/s/4SK7B

It's not unique in this regard, I'm sure, but my sense of humor is something wicked. I like to use the graphic from my favorite t-shirt to describe it: Usually dark, always absurd, sometimes offensive, and not so rarely macabre. I imagine that if I really wanted/had the meanness in me, I could be an excellent asshole. Like, worst 'jerk around' material. I may not always say it out loud, and usually not to the person it concerns unless I feel comfortable/know they won't garrote me for it, but it's in there. A frothy, sometimes roiling pool of meanness and wit (usually lacking actual  spite, but still...). Like, I saw headlines last night about Beyonce's miscarriage . And while I perfectly sincerely questioned on twitter why anyone ever needed to know about it (I only just now saw that it was revealed through Jay-Z's song, not sleazy journalism) and while I also know perfectly well how traumatic and awful and heartbreaking the misfortune of miscarr

So, it's the craziest thing. I've been reading again. Like, books  and stuff. More accurately, ebooks, but still. Right now I'm working on Wuthering Heights ; it's kinda fantastic. I'm somewhat baffled at how I could possibly have forgotten how much I love reading. I find myself getting sucked into a book and recall  yestermoments of the same, and wonder how I've let so much time go by since I really let myself embrace a good book. It's a bit frustrating, I guess, but really, it's nice to be reading again. This little reading renaissance started when I realized how easy it was to read books on my phone. Holy shit, Batman. Imagine that. When the holidays hit, my reading somewhat tapered; but as they ebb into the past, I hope to spend more random moments reading again. Mostly it's been during random downtime--like busrides or waiting about for stuff. It works remarkably well. Anyway, I figured I'd share that as my brain refused to come up w

So Parker and I are all kindsa bent on moving out. You know, once everything comes together. We have no idea where we're gonna move, when we're gonna move, or any of that. We just know we will  move and it will be awesome. With my full time job at Macy's and Parker's possible/probable assistant manager position, we're a helluva lot closer to  something  now than we were a year ago. And that is pretty rad. I don't know if you know this, but I'll be 25 at the end of this month. To some almost 25-year-olds in the throes of a quarter-life-crisis, living  anywhere that isn't his parents' basement seems vastly better than living in his parents' basement. There are considerations to be made, however.... For example, soon enough, Parker and I will likely be working at different malls. So something in between with plenty of ways to get around to things would be more than modestly convenient. I'd say possibly even downright necessary. Either way,

It feels like just last Thursday I was gearing up to bail on retail. I was so many kinds of over it. The surly customers, the daily goals, the shitty & unsteady hours, the barely above minimum wage pay. And now...now I've committed to a dimension of retail I could not have foreseen and would not have guessed. Certainly not last year when I came into this mad, fun, frenetic world of customers and sales, nor last month when I was so eager to wash my hands of it. But I am getting ahead of myself--and dangerously florid. So this whole turn of events began back in mid-October when I inherited a part time position in visuals at Macy's from Parker. It was a pretty sweet gig, though short term. The excellent pay, stable hours, and manageable workload spoiled me some and, as it came to an end, that's what pushed me to such a breaking point with retail as a whole. Simply put, I wanted to keep getting that kinda money with a nice steady schedule and, having realized such thi