Splendiferous Conventionality

01/25/2010 its possible that i am not using that term correctly. its the word of the day for tomorrow actually... i think somehow its a clever usuage... potentially (something may become, actual, or possible) noetic (relating to, or based on the intellect) vomitting (a term coined to categorize this type of writing). although i am also listening to The Hound of Baskervilles by the great Sir Arthur Conan Doyle while doing this- and with his great descriptions of the moor and the Baskerville estate- i may not be able to fullfil the adjective noted in my title. there was a movie based on 'signs' by the same name. its a favorite of mine for its ingenious connections from the menial, mundane everyday things to great, momentous events that affect the characters' lives. this causes me to consider several 'little' things in my own life. i glance at the various owls sitting in various sizes and locations on my desk and in my office- and wonder if there is something tha

It is Sunday evening and daylight savings time has allowed the sun to still shine brilliantly through our abundant living room windows. The couch and my rear-end congregate quickly and smoothly like long lost lovers reuniting. Over the last several months, I have created a human imprint in this space. It has been a combination of ennui and debility, crashing like colossal waves; over and over and over again. Think of those scorching summer days at the city pool. From opening to close. Swimming, laying out, swimming, snacking, and swimming some more until the pool closed. You were starved, sun kissed, and sun drained; and that overwhelming urge to grab forty winks took over your body. It has been like that, but without the fun, exercise, and vitamin D. There have been snacks, however. I have Hoovered an abundance of sucrose and salted treats; desperately seeking the dopamine. I have tried every marshmallowly sweetmeat I can find (thank Chuck for cotton candy peeps) and binge watched

Its been a long time, my old friend. So long, I am not certain that I still have the capacity to pen the way I once did. Story-like and somewhat jovial in our struggles and still quite hopeful for the future to be different from the melodramatic somewhat overwhelming hell we have experienced over and over; year after year.  But since that time (i know you should not start with 'but' but I'm gonna anyway); I think I have changed a lot from who I was once or who I once was. I have felt this fluctuation, deformation, rectification coming for some time and it seems there was no way to prevent its inception. I was told, or more aptly put; warned that this would happen and the transformation of what I knew my life to be was inevitable.  It is impossible not to expect as much. I went from a mindset of carrying an imagined world upon my worried shoulders; to actually carrying the responsibility of doing right by an entire community, as well as one of the largest institutions i

Its 2152 hrs, on a Wednesday night. I can't say that this will be eloquently penned; I'm not sure I still have the capacity to write that way. It has been so long since I have written, and so many things have transpired since my last note. I am only writing now, because I am honestly too lazy tonight to "chore" around the house and tired of looking at work related materials. originally started early 2017

It's 12:39 am, a Tuesday night, or Wednesday morning rather; the house is asleep. Everyone but me and the television. Dexter Season 5, episode 8 I believe. We are actually on Season 8, but since my love has a sleep schedule different than my own; I am going back mostly for sound... and possibly a lesson in boorish vocabulary via Debra Morgan. Her character uses the 'F" words in ways I have never thought of. *I just realized that the Netflix provided closed captions edit all the cuss words on this episode! Ha. I am on nights until May. I start my shift in the dark and come home in the dark. I revel in any minute of sunshine I might catch in the hour or so before I have to ready myself and head to work. I close my eyes and feel the sunbeams lay their long fingers upon my forehead and cheekbones; warming my face in those tiny moments. I look forward to warmer days, but we have many days of winter left before then. Although I had a most lovely night with my darling, we try

Well, well, well... we meet again. It seems I always find myself back here. A need to speak to no one in particular or to no body at all but yet everyone or anyone that finds themselves here.  Let's see. I graduated in December with my Masters. I went the very quick route; no thesis and 12 credit hours a semester. I completed it as I intended although interestingly enough, accolades are not given for grades as they are in undergraduate studies. I have to remind myself that more than just an extra title or 'award' received, I wanted to the scores for me. Somewhere along my life's journey, I have collectively grouped all the voices that said 'I couldn't' into a faceless and terrifying entity that sits squarely on my shoulders. It holds in one hand a direct line to my subconsciousness and in the other a recorded, looped message doubting my abilities. Its claws hold tightly and I fear I'll never be able to shake it off of me.  I vaguely remember a line