palmerpink

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

(Is that even the plural...? Oh well, too late; it's already written, and I've decided my ear thinks it's pretty.) I could write reams about how I feel when I see a hot guy. In fact, I know I have; there are embarrassing notebooks overly versifying the subject already--embarrassing not so much for raciness as, more often than not, lameness. Anyway, besides the more directly libidinal thrust a hot guy can put into normal daily rhythms, there's also those deeper effects and reflections. Prolly merely my usual overthinking, but sometimes it can't be helped. Today, there were two guys that got me off kilter like that. Damn them--for being hot and being frustrating! The first was some kinda nurse or doctor or dentist--he was in scrubs, let's leave it at that. He had blonde hair and sunlit eyes and a glorious smile. He came in looking for some cologne though wasn't too sure what as he hardly wears any. For all I knew he was 35 but damn if he wasn't th

I skipped work yesterday. There, I said it. I'm not sure why. I guess I didn't want to leave the house somehow. Or maybe I was sick of responsibilities. I'm sure some filaments of anxiety were woven into it. It was like a spinny angry mess in my head, but maybe less severe than that sounds. Much less severe, to be sure, than times past. Certain questions and hounding thoughts pressed on through the day. 'What am I doing with my life?' 'What happened to the things I love?' 'I don't want to do this anymore.' 'I'm never gonna move out of this place.' 'What do I really want?' Maybe, in staying home, I was hiding from these things. At home, in my room, in my bed, I have things--tried and true, however abused--to distract myself from my somewhat OCD like worrying. I have, at the least, a false sense of control. In those times past when my worrying and anxiety got really bad, I would hole up here, withdrawn from everything th

A long while back I set up Disqus to manage comments on this blog. There were two reasons. The lesser was a vain one: I wanted to be notified when people commented. I wanted to know I was being noticed and (hopefully) loved. Silly, yeah? le sigh.  Well, Disqus did. The bigger reason (although I'm not altogether convinced this is really how these two reasons were weighted) was linkbacks. At the time, it seemed blogger didn't do any kind of trackback or refback or pingback linking when someone linked to my blog. Disqus did. Plus, Disqus sounded all integratey--like you could comment and it could be posted to facebook (or so it seemed?) which helped my vanity as a form a free publicity. Other stuff seemed neat about it too. For reasons I'm entirely sure of, either, I've decided that I think I'll consider removing Disqus. FOR NOW. Right now, it's not like I'm so swamped with comments that I need it to help manage the conversation or shit. (Read: nobody e

So I had an interesting Valentines afterall. There was even a date in there, of sorts. Such a romantic. Erm, literally? Work was kinda ridiculous. Remember, I sell fragrance. Perfume. Evidently that's what people love getting eachother on Valentines because it was nutty Monday and insane yesterday. But I was dressed sharp and on the ball all day. It was, I'll point out, a Tuesday. I recently stole my friend's idea  decided to make Tuesdays "Bow Tie Tuesdays". Having recently taught myself to tie said ties, I was down for it. Of course, being a holiday, I had to dress up more than usual (which is kind of saying something), so out came the three piece suit and pocket watch and shoe polish. It was, as was to be expected, busy. I made bank, dawg. I was everywhere and ringing everything--and, even with almost all my coworkers there at once, I still pulled in a sweet 4 grand or so, which means about $130 of comission. In one day. That's a lot of bow tie

About a week ago, I watched some stuff on the NatGeo channel with my mom, my dad, and my  Parker . I'm surprised they didn't tie me down or use strong sedatives: I was foamingly angry/outraged/flabbergasted at how stupid the shows were. Now, not exactly movies, this is a review of sorts. So I'm gonna call this a Bad Movie Monday .

So I remember when I read about this whole war on contraceptives/religious liberty in a New Yorker article and thought "Ah, well that's a sucky red herring", and kinda expected that to be that. Apparently it's, like, a big deal or stuff . Although I'm sure many conservatives legitimately oppose this--that is, as a matter of personal beliefs and not simply  political sleight of hand --it still feels shifty to me. As the USA Today article points out, despite all the infighting and bloodletting in the Republican Primary, this issue "was a battle cry the divided party could bellow in unison". It seems, too, like a case of a loud minority acting like a victimized majority. USA Today quoted a Fox poll demonstrating "61%, of Americans approve of requiring employer health plans to cover birth control for women". Approve.  Only 34% disapprove. I hope, as that New Yorker article I originally read had, that it isn't an enduring distraction

I posted this to my facebook earlier, but I couldn't help blogging it, too. This video is touching in so many ways. I love her honesty, her warmth. I also love that she supports gay marriage, of course. I won't lie, if more republicans--if more politicians--were as cool as her, I think the country would be a different place. I'm sure that if I looked I'd find she could very well have some terrible track record as a conniving bitch or something awful like that, but I like believing in these things. Especially when they agree with my beliefs.

Ugh. I've been avoiding blogging about this for a reason. A probably dumb reason but still a reason. I've been thinking it's about time to quit smoking. GASP. People refuse to expect my smoking habit more than they refuse to believe I'm not  just barely 21 years old. I suppose I should be flattered--seeming both wholesome and young is surely useful somehow--but it's odd. Smoking is something I've partly taken for granted over the past 7 years even as I've grown to depend on it. But lately I keep getting this odd feeling--"Why do I still smoke, anyway?" or "What's this really accomplishing for me?". The odd part is that, while I won't claim I'm not an addict, I'm not exactly a chainsmoker, either. I'm sure I smoke more than I realize but it's felt like only a pack and a half a week for at least 5 years. Maybe it's more like 2 packs or 2 1/2. I've always felt I was more of a habitual smoker; after meals

Yeah, I'm one of those guys who's never really been with someone around Valentine's. I am sometimes baffled how other people manage these things--and why I can't. To be fair, it's probably as much my not trying enough and trying too hard as it is anything pariticularly wrong with me. Like, I know I don't get myself out there enough to meet guys and when I do it's probably compensatory and usually flawed from the start. The other question is--why does it matter so much to me? Evidently it seems like something I want but something I'm scared of, too. It may also be something I'm just not very good at. I'm secretly timid and fearful of most confrontation and directness. For all my communication skills, I always seem to chicken out when it comes to talking to guys in a healthy, sustaining way. I'm a dreamer who wants something nice badly enough to stick to something for the concept of having it more than the reality of dealing with it; I want t

Yeah, I've written about it before-- the wanting-to-get-up-early thing . So I'll be brief, or try. So I ostensibly like getting up early. It's a good time for doing things. Practically nothing is ever planned  before 11ish so it's good me-time. I've also got a clear head and (mostly) high energy levels. But I usually get lazy/indulgent and go back to sleep when I don't have to be up right away for anything in particular (and sometimes even when I do...). Am I robbing me of my me-time? Well, yes and no. Sometimes I fill that time with more indulgent me-time--porn, okcupid/dudesnude, facebook, lord knows what else. Normally, I'd want to spend this time writing or reading the news or blogging or just preparing for the day. Not so likely, especially lately--I've been sleeping in or wanking early far more than is necessary. Can't porn or okcupid or whatever wait until the end of the day? isn't it just as easy to wack off before  bed as  after ?

But I did make it as far as my home gym! It's almost the same. You know, without all the cardio machines, challenging weights, and hot guys to check out. Other than that basically the same. From about Thanksgiving until somewhere in late December I was doing pretty well at going to the gym. I was even beginning to look fantastic. Then things got...busy? or I got lazy. One of those. Let's see if I can not make overblown promises to myself here, publicly. I think if I actually looked at my schedule I'd see plenty of opportunity to get to the gym. And if I actually committed to it, I could actually do it. Cuz let's face it. I like the gym. I like being buff/sexy. (If I were cockier I might even say it isn't that hard for me to be once I actually try and exercise....) So why haven't I? I'm really not sure. Inexplicable nervousness, maybe? Intimidation? Utter lack of planning/time management? Resilient, persistent doubts? Or maybe it's that commit