Life on Repeat

I have grown weary. I am losing track of days because they are all the same. Slowly melting into a pool of mundane nothingness. Today is Friday, and I should be happy. I am not. I am tired. My body has become immune to the effects of caffeine and everyday has become a struggle to stay awake.

I should be grateful. I have a steady paycheck in a shitty economy and I don't work at McDonalds. I am not the girl who makes my sandwiches at lunch who has a small shrunken "claw" in place of a fully functioning hand. It could be worse.

I am grateful, I really am. I have two hands. I have things. Good things.

I just wish that I could enjoy the 40hrs a week I spend sitting in front of a computer. Instead I find myself sitting at a shitty desk everyday, staring blankly at a computer. I dont even need to use my brain to complete my work. Instead I daydream while taping away at the keyboard.

My desk is filled with other peoples junk. Random dusty staplers sitting on the right corner. I wonder if they even have staples in them. Some sort of beer part has been sitting here since I first started. A giant metal rack to my right... filled with cords, random electronics.... carelessly strew onto the shelves. Crooked shitty cubicle walls seperating my desk from the "kitchen."

It almost makes me laugh to think this is my first office job experience.

Things that I can see without moving from my desk...because making lists makes me feel important:


1. Jack Daniels Bar Stool ( I work at a beverage company, it almost makes sense that its sitting right next to my desk... in the middle of the office.)

2. A map of the United States.

3. A small mug, with a cozy scene of small Italian men drinking beer in a pub. One is grabbing a womans ass. Of course she is the one serving food.

4. A book of matches and one AA battery. Located inside my desk, they are not mine.

5. A can of Hormel Turkey Chili.

6. A Tiki Bar.

7. A Bald Guy.

8. A picture of two fighting monkeys.

9. Coupons to El Pollo Loco.

10. Ms. Butterworth.

Magic and Fireworks

I should be sleeping but cannot stop thinking....
There are so many things jumbled up in this little mind o' mine.

The 4th of July... it was a good one. Thinking about it makes me smile. The few blurred moments I can remember, I will try not to forget those too. I saw no fireworks that day, but I'm sure I felt some. On the other hand, it could have been the vodka.

There was a boy... in green. and sunglasses. He was perfect in every aspect... except that he was from West Virginia. He bought me a hotdog and we danced.

Booze was spilt. Friends slipped and crashed into the concrete dance floor. Tears were trickled over lost loves. Too tiny bikinis were worn. and so were fuzzy footie pajamas covered in baby ducks. Needless to say, it was my kind of day. The only thing missing was the sun.

Eyes blinked, the weekend magic was gone. Goodbyes were said. Kisses were given. Airplanes departed.

All thats left are the movie clips flashing on the backs of my eyelids.

Its dark now and I lost my camera.

Creamed Corn

I am not a Blogger. And this is not my first Blog.

Lately, I've found myself thinking about Age. Like... Alot. I recently turned 28, which is by no means "Old." In fact, most people seem to put me at around 23... MAYBE 24. But definitely 23. Of course this initially pleases me, because what woman doesn't love to hear that youth isn't running out on her quite yet. However, there is some small underlying part of me, deep deep down, that is a little bothered by this. Perhaps its because I am fully aware that I will never actually be 23 again. That time has passed. I am 28 and I no longer live in a worry free world. I am working on being okay with that.

OLD AGE, lately this is more of what I find my self reflecting over... rather than years past. I have this strange fascination with growing older. I am so curious about the elderly community. I am pretty sure the fact that my upstairs neighbors are living relics is what initially piqued my interest on this subject. I have only met the older male occupant... his name is Harold. I couldn't have been more pleased.

Since then their lifestyle has really got me wondering and I've come to a few personal conclusions on the complexities of old age.

Fact 1: Old people have amazing names. It's required. Both of my grandmothers are the perfect example to this rule. Wanda Mae and Nola??? Those names don't even exist anymore. I've come to the conclusion that it will be necessary to change mine when I reach a certain age. Megan just won't cut it.

Fact 2: Upstairs neighbors displaying shrunken frail physiques does ensure a peaceful and quiet living environment for unfortunate downstairs occupant. Apparently knitting potholders and playing solitare causes more of a ruckus than previously assumed.

Fact 3: All elderly folk have an affinity for creamed corn and Matlock reruns.

Fact 4: Birds. Once you have reached a certain age, you become strangely intrigued and excited by their existance. Owls in particular. Sometimes you will collect feathers.

Fact 5: Synthetic fabrics will be you're new best friend. Your energetically colored jogging suits will last an eternity carrying your legacy on with them.

Fact 6: Dinner will be rescheduled to 4 p.m. and bedtime to 8 p.m. No one knows why. I suspect this is in direct correlation with peak bird watching hours, which are dusk and dawn.

Fact 7: Everyday is a holiday. This means extra servings of creamed corn and a good poop.

Fact 8: You are Old. The best excuse in the book. Do as you please and when in doubt... just "forget" where you are and what your name is.

Fact 9: There was a dog and BINGO was his name-o.

Fact 10: This is the end. Literally.