Time does many things. It endures, it supposedly heals all wounds and imparts with all a wisdom that the now only longs for. It’s the passing of it that leaves its wear and tear on the souls of those who sit anxiously waiting for it to work its magic.
Greta bore scars. So did Michael. They would not speak of them publicly; it seemed far more mature to suffer in silence. She would imagine their interactions with a polite smile and swift step; he would think of all the things he never managed to say.
Time did nothing for thoughts.
and I have many thoughts. So...many thoughts. I shall write them out in laundry list format as I sorely need to get back to an overwhelmingly intimidating work inbox.
1. Clearly I see why I'm currently single. Apparently, I was supposed to be born in the days of Sparta. Now before you start rolling your eyes and saying it's all about the six-pack...let me get one thing straight. Six-packs are nice, but what I love, love loved was the strength, the conviction, the valor and the grit of those men. I've always been a sucker for a man with the heart of a lion (and the humor, integrity and courage to boot). I suppose I need to put that in my online profile huh? (Only Spartans need apply)
2. I know there are some who claimed to be disappointed in this movie. I have to say...in the spirit it was intended, following the graphic novel by Frank Miller...how could you be anything but giddy with glee? There was not supposed to be anything "real" or "life like" or heavily historical. It was supposed to be fantastic, visually over the top as any material of the genre typically is. I sat down prepared to feel goosebumps rise on my skin from the sheer excitement of amazing sound, "squeal-worthy" effects designed to stagger the inner kid in me and lines that you only could hear in movies without rolling your eyes. I was given precisely that. On steroids. I had to practically keep my hand clapped over my mouth to refrain from remarking with incredulity at some of the fight scenes. What an eyegasm.
3. Tell me this movie doesn't make you want to spend the next fifteen years living, eating, sleeping at the gym? I'd be a liar if I said I didn't appreciate the uh...picture of health...those soldiers personified.
4. Would it have been absurd to stay right in that seat and wait for the next showing? I certainly could sit through that again.
5. I'd like the movie theater to come up with some carb free snacking options for me. Avoiding that popcorn is becoming increasingly difficult. How about some bacon bits, or cheese bites, without pretzel or nacho wrapped around it? Beef Jerky? Slim Jims? Salted nuts?
6. Did Dominic West keep his dress decidedly less revealing because his character was a politician of Sparta? Or because he didn't have time to purchase an ab lounge before filming? Inquiring minds need to know...
7. And while we're back on the subject of iron stomachs, heaving biceps and chiseled thighs...how much of those ridiculously perfect physiques were true, and what was...altered? The magic of cinema. I could hear men lifiting weights like they were possessed in my mind. There was a small piece of me that smiled at that. Enjoying them sweating and feeling "insignificant" as they watched the "popularized ideal" in front of their faces. Take that, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue. BITCHEZ!
I managed to play with my new pixelblocks yesterday, wee! Feeling a little bit better today...
My first creation.
God I loved this movie. Watching it with a Nyquil chaser just makes it extra fun.
Back when Vince Vaughn was funny and cute. (Now he's just got that bloated, rat pack look from too much partyin')
I loved this scene. Vince KILLS me.
"Don't make it like I'm dumb."
Scenario Overview
In response to some requests that I share some of the strangers replies in my online personals adventure.
The victim: We shall call him 'Tiny." Tiny because he is 5 feet 6 inches tall. Which is a respectable height, nothing wrong with it, except I am 5 feet 9 inches. Tiny is 32 (younger than me), an avid dancer (I am no dancer and live in terror of being asked to do it) and completely incompatible with me in every other sense.
He began leaving me notes over two weeks ago. The first one was kind. He liked my profile. I received two more very similar to that initial one, including his first stab at answering my "conversation starters." I read them, told him I appreciated him answering the questions. I was happy to know he found the questions, unhappy to know he "leapfrogged" my preferences in search of them.
He in turn asked me a few, I wrote him back and said I didn't think we'd be a good fit for each other, but in the interest of being cordial, I included my replies to his questions. I realize this may have been a mixed message, but as a successful software engineer, I would have expected him to take the polite answer and wish me well. Certainly he'd be bright enough to muster that.
Not so much.
At the close of the same week, I receive another message, this one seeming to suggest he has a serious problem with selective memory. He told me he was interested in getting to know me, he liked my profile. Ahhhh, yes. We established that. The rest of the conversation went as follows:
On 03/16/2007 02:47 am CDT, M wrote: On 03/21/2007 03:29 am CDT, M wrote: On 03/22/2007 07:55 am CDT, you wrote: On 03/26/2007 08:35 pm CDT, M wrote: On 03/27/2007 12:30 pm CDT, you wrote:
I really do not want to waste your time. You seem like a really cool
guy, I just know for me it's not going to be a good fit. I'm
wishing you the very best of luck and an awesome weekend.
Take care,
Cherrie
What I actually wrote:
Again, I am wishing you the very best.
- C
What I wanted to write:
1. Because you do not fall within the height preferences
2. Because you do not fall within the age preferences
3. Because you're creepily annoying with this persistence
4. Because I don't like your profile photo
5. Because you have not honed the art of reading between the lines
6. Because you just used 4 question marks to emphasize your concern
Woke up sweating last night at 2am, with a scratchy throat. Not good.
Woke up again 4am with cotton mouth and plugged nostrils. Not good.
Woke up at 6:30am feeling generally sleepy, cloggy in the head with glassy eyes. So not good.
Today is a sick day.
Supplies have been purchased, teas ingested, sleep inducing meds consummed. No work for RPM today. Just hazy rest with a box of tissues, the remote control, lots of soups...oh...and these:
Gamany, they simply could not have arrived at a better time. Now while I stare blankly at movies watched way too many times, I can utilize whatever brain cells have survived infection to make super cool things. Once I'm feeling a bit more chipper...I might bring out the legos too.
Now all I need is a scalding hot shower and my pajamas and it is on. Don't look for me today world. I hide, sleep and play.
Hey...when I have kids...do I have to share my toys with them? I never was great with that sharing toys thing....
The entire album is a treat.
Happy Monday folkses. I'll be around to annoy you later.
Cheers!
RPM
By way of Erin*Carly
If I knew then what I know now...
I would have said no a lot more, yes a lot less...been unafraid to demand what I’m worth and moved a lot sooner.
My life would be simpler if...
I didn’t always wait til the last minute to get my work done.
Bikini or Thong?
Remember when panties were panties? I want my wonder woman underoos back.
What's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to you?
You complete me. Oh wait...was that mini me?
You had me at hello. Shit. Sorry...that was Jerry Maguire
Did you ever know that you’re my h... Music lyric.
Actually, I’ve had such kind and loving spirits in my life, I’m not sure I could tag one as the nicest...but this comes close.
What was your most embarrasing moment?
Having the people in ER think I had overdosed on drugs during my vertigo session two years ago. The fact that I had vomit chunks stuck to my hair, a stained shirt and the chills while being unable to keep my eyes from rolling in my head probably had nothing to do with it.
What's your favorite place in the world?
Any place she is.
Biggest waste of time?
George W. Bush.
What surprises you most about adult life?
How childhood seemed to trickle by...and how adulthood flies faster than the speed of light.
The big decision I am currently wrestling with is...
I’m pretty blessed to not be struggling with making any
decisions right now. I have a great job, love my home, love my friends, enjoy
the time I’m in and I’m pretty clear. Nothing is truly pressing me. So...the
biggest decision might be...
Roll solo to Cabo...or take someone with me? If so...who?
Something tells me I might have more fun if I go it alone.
I was working in my office when I heard it.
Mecca's distinct snarl indicating someone unfamiliar has entered our private space.
I jumped out of my chair, and ran to my patio glass in search of her. My yard is gated, so hence the snarl. Someone had to be in the yard. And there was. The utilty man.
I keep the yard unlocked with a "Beware of Dog" sign on the door. Not because she's anything to be wary of, but because that gate is unlocked and I want anyone feeling brazen enough to just come on in, to know there is a dog onsite. This however, does not seem to deter the utility man from just walking in each month to "read the meter."
I look and see Mecca offering a warning bark. She's crouched low, and she's barking very loudly as if to say, "Not supposed to be in here." I look and see Mr. Utility man yielding a long, metal baton, which he is using to jab Mecca under her arm, in the soft fold seperating her joint from tissue. She is angry and she snarls, he pokes again...with a grin on his face.
Mecca is a pitbull.
I open the patio glass, jump into the yard and call Mecca's name while he continues to jab at her and she gets increasingly upset. She does not respond to me, and her growl takes an ugly turn I am not used to. I call out to the Utility man to stop it, and to stand still. He looks up at me, amusement dying slowly from his eyes, and he lets down the metal baton. Mecca continues to bark, but she does not move toward him as I've told her to "wait." Which for Mecca means, "freeze." This man sees the anxiety in my face and offers his feeble hello and explanation for being in my yard.
"Is there something wrong with you?" I exclaim wildly, having collared Mecca and ushered her into my house.
"I was just keeping her away from me." He offers with a shrug.
"Wrong. You were antagonizing her. Big fucking difference. Why would you stand there grinning and jabbing her that way? You see my truck in the yard, you KNOW I work virtually and you KNOW I am home. So why would you walk in the yard, and initate something that foolish when I've asked your company repeatedly to KNOCK to let me know you need access to the YARD?"
He apologies and casts his eyes away, immediately uncomfortable with my anger. He knows better. We both are painfully aware of this.
"This is a pitbull. Okay? And yes, she's been raised with love and she's mostly harmless, but that does not mean it is in anyway logical for you to walk into this yard, jab her with an object, toy with her anger and expect that to be acceptable knowing full well if she were to bite you, I'd have a thousand reporters in my backyard reporting on another savage attack by a wild and unmanageable breed. I would have to destroy her, because you have no common sense. From now on, there will be a lock on that gate to remind you to do what I asked your company to do - each month for an ENTIRE year."
In between his apologies, I took his name, and reported the incident to the Utility company. And then, I put a lock on that gate. Not because my dog is vicious. Not because she's bitten any one ever in her eight years of living. Not because she has an aggressive bone in her body. I did it because pitbulls have a reputation. I did it because it's the smart thing to do (even if my lease says I cannot prohibit access to the yard). I did it because I understand the NATURE of the breed, and I respect the job I signed on for when my Dad purchased her for me when she was six weeks aold. I did it because I love my dog and I will do anything to protect her. I did it, because I don't want my lack of vigilance to incite a pitbull ban in yet another city. I did it because I am a RESPONSIBLE PITBULL OWNER.
I am tired of the stories. Children, innocent people injured because of the lack of responsibilty demonstrated by ignorant pet owners. Media: stop fanning the fires with stories designed to encourage fear and loathing. Everyone that owns a pit, is not a drug dealing, rebel rousing troublemaker. For every story you burn the wires with about a child, an elderly senior citizen or random person on the street that is the victim of a terrifying attack, there is another pitbull that is afraid of cats, napping somewhere in a ray of sunshine on the carpet who's bark is far more meaty than their bite - because they've NEVER BITTEN ANYTHING BUT KIBBLE. There is another pit that gets jabbed, poked, tortured and overbred to help foster a sterotype, there is another irresponsible idiot watching the news, getting excited about the notion of a "killer beast" who is neglecting a puppy, feeding it meat tinged with battery acid and letting it dangle from a chew toy thrown over a laundry line with a 20 pound chain around it's neck.
DIG. DEEPER.
Another story here. Another story there. Everytime there is an attack, someone calls me to inform me of it. The answer is not banning. The answer is not lazy reporting. The answer is education and different initiatives, different laws that punish the OWNER and not the dog. Put some laws in place. Stop running innocent pitbull owners out of town like they're fucking Frankenstein. Make me pay for a yearly license to carry her, since you want to make her a loaded gun. Threaten me with jailtime if she's caught in an attack that appears unprovoked. You'll get no complaint from me, because I KNOW the love, time, energy and commitment that was put into my pitbull. I know I am responsible. And I know to take the ownership of my animal EXTREMELY seriously. Many of us with pitbulls, do.
Ignorant, sonsofbitch lazy OWNERS are.
Let's do something else besides chase monsters with angry sticks and ugly chants.
It was feasible to love people in different ways. Greta scoffed at Michael when he suggested such a thing. There is that overwhelming, once in a lifetime love that defies definition. The other love means well and means no harm, but lives eternally in the shadow of its more passionate twin. The latter eventually feels the ire of the former and dissolves into a vengeful battle of will. The former simply looms too large to be avoided if it is not completely destroyed. The two cannot exist peacefully in any circumstance.
Fate will see to that if the universe doesn’t.
