RIM *giggle* *snort*

9:39am
Meeting in board room with new company
Topic of discussion: RIM data and RIM attachment
Can't stop thinking of RIM as something to do with rimming.

And I think, I think, rimming is frowned upon in the office? Maybe my new company is more open-minded than I gave them credit for? Oh dear. Am not up for rimming in the work place. Am not up for rimming, period. Perhaps rimming is part of my job responsiblilities? Surely not. That would be wrong and grounds for sexual harassment if one party was not up for it, right?

Commuting Hell

I fucking hate commuting to and from work 5 times a week. And I hate all my fellow commuters. Because they slow me down and get in my way. I am not very likeable whilst commuting, I'm afraid. Something bf found out this morning. I am all elbows and predatory in a proactive fashion during my commute to the Loop in downtown Chicago. I push people if need be and snarl in the general direction of anyone coming near me. Very territorial, you see. (Oh dear, am already rhyming on a Monday...).

"You change when you're commuting," bf said whilst we were on the move with thousands others like us.

"Look, no one's gonna fuck with me, alright? And I'm getting a seat on that train! Because standing up with hundreds of sweaty people and no where to breathe but the fat guy's arm pit is NOT an option." And then I scoot in front of people so I'm first on the carriage and I get the last seat! Hahahaha! Oopsy...bf has been lost along the wayside. No, no, there he is. Pushing his way past the throng of people to stand by me. "I should offer the seat to him, at least" I think and at the same time hoping he says no.

"Bf, do you want my seat?"

"No, don't be silly." Then I do the inward equivalent to the arm pumping "YES" gesture.

It takes approximately 25-30 minutes on the el before we reach our destination downtown. For some reason (karmic related, no doubt) the whole world alights at our stop. This is also true, I find, when returning home. The whole world gets off on my home stop, too. So, I can only surmise that Chicago's entire population lives in Logan Square and works in the Loop around Clark and Lake.

"You're really agressive right now. Maybe we shouldn't commute together in the mornings. I'm happy with my fellow commuters." Says the bf. Who is the nicest, sweetest individual in the entire world and therefore isn't really down with my anti-commuting style. Which is ok. I understand totally. And it is well and good that when with me he doesn't slow me down but if we commute separately and he somehow is that slow guy in front of me, he better watch it. Just saying.

Transition

Going through one of those life-altering transitions at the moment. Job is heating up, new flat with my boyfriend, and Burning Man. All good stuff really that just requires a bit more effort. This last weekend was heavenly. Because I did NOTHING. I watched James Bond continually (the Daniel Craig one *drool*), did yoga, began packing for BM, researched new music, and slept a whole heaping lot. It was lovely (with the exception of being responsible for a soup/glass bowl explosion...please, let us not go there).

I think the most lovely thing about this last weekend was the rain. It rained on and off continually and it was nice to be snug and cozy inside whilst it was gloomy and rainy out. There hasn't been a lot of rain in Chicago this summer so it was a pleasant change. Me with a steamy mug of coffee and my book curled up in the big ugly green chair listening to the pitter patter of rain made me happier than I've been in awhile.

The Mean Reds

A bit blue at the moment. And there is honestly no good reason to be. Back in the day, I used to be really depressed. Like really, really depressed. The kind where you need to be on something to maintain some sort of normalcy. This last year has been the best that I can remember in ages. Several Good Things have stumbled one upon the other to me. And I don't need those happy pills any longer. But every now and then I hit a black patch. As Holly Golightly phrased it, I've got a case of The Mean Reds.

Maybe I just need a banana popsicle and my favourite book (oh yeah, still on the Mark Twain kick). I have a feeling that once everything settles down a bit and life isn't one crazy stick of butter the bitter blues and mean reds will fade into something resembling a lighter hue.

Move

Pack.
Grunt.
Bend.
Lift.
Cry.
Scream.
Throw tantrum.
Pull hair out.
Bend some more.
Sprain wrist.
Bruise legs.
Drop bed.
Down stairs.
Wallow in self-pity.
Get over it.
Growl at people.
In way of moving stuff.
Ask bf.
If he still loves me.
Panic.
Lose keys.
Hyperventilate.
Breathe.
Break freight elevator.
Fix it.
Badly.
Move last items out.
Go back and clean.
Badly.
Sigh.
Take one last glance.
Close door.
Get in truck.
Drive to new place.
Start moving stuff.
ALL OVER AGAIN.

Indecision

I envy those people who can make decisions and feel happy and satified with them without wanting to change their minds every other single second like me. I could blame it on that Pisces thingymajobber that I am (if you believe in Astrology).

I am extremely indecisive and it is pissing people off. Last weekend I was asked to go to NYC and see a famous dj play in Central Park sometime soonish. "Yeah, let's do it!" I said, quite gung-ho. "But wait," I stalled, "How much is the ticket there and back? How much is the concert? The hotel?" I was explained to that it was all a very reasonable price and everything would be cool.

So today I'm looking at flights.

"Hey! The flight to NY is [such amount]. It arrives at LaGuardia...Oh! You're going there, too? Wicked. I'll buy the flight soon."

2 hours of stalling goes by whilst working and talking to bf. My gut isn't quite into the NY thing as it probably should be. I go to buy the flight after sending a text to friends letting them know I'll "see you in NY!" But my cheapy flight was bought. Was it wrong that I was somewhat relieved? It might be because these friends and I had a little tift over the weekend and everything was not as "cool" as they said it was.

"Oh no! My cheapy flight was bought! Did you know, I've been calculating stuff up. It's gonna cost me like [large amount] for 2 days in NY."

"So, you're not going to go? It's cool. You don't want to hang out with us last weekend and now you don't want to go to NY after just telling us that you were going to?"

Now, I could offer up a lot of excuses but what this person just said is the absolute truth. I am a total tard at the moment. There are several reasons probably worth mentioning but I won't. Bottom line is that I have a bad feeling about this whole situation with everyone and as the old lady in my office said, "Go with your gut. It's not meant to be. They're probably just pissed that your going to save [large amount] and they have to pay more. But they already had the stuff booked before inviting you so who cares? They'll get over it. And if they don't, oh well."

Stupid indecision. For once the old woman is right, I reckon.

I heart Mark Twain

Someone in my family gave me Mark Twain's Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World recently and I am totally enchanted. Who knew Samuel Clemens was such a traveler? Probably everyone except me. I had never really gotten into Tom Sawyer or Huckleberry Finn even though I know they are American classics and whatsits.

This guy is so witty and brilliant I can't keep my hands off the pages! It was written back in 1897 and early photographs from his travels are included in the book (right now I am looking at The Blue Ribbon otherwise known as the equator when he crossed it in September of that year). The way he goes about describing events and nature is like a time machine. I am there. I can see the sunset over the Hawaiian Islands more than a century ago:

"The long sloping promontory projecting into the sea at the west turned dim and leaden and spectral, then became suffused with pink--dissolved itself in a pink dream, so to speak, it seemed so airy and unreal. Presently the cloud-rack was flooded with fiery splendors, and these were copied on the surface of the sea, and it made one drunk with delight to look upon it."

Twain also goes on to give moral advice. I like this one best: "There are people who think that honesty is always the best policy. This is a superstition; there are times when the appearance of it is worth six of it."

He also mentions that the Southern Cross in the skies of the Southern Hemisphere shouldn't be called the Southern Cross at all but the Southern Kite as it actually makes heaps more sense. Kites are at home in the sky whereas crosses are not. He's right, I reckon. The Southern Kite is a much better name.

I also like how silly Twain is. Such as when the ship he is on passes the 180 degree mark and a day is lost as he is heading west on the Pacific towards Australia. He remarks on how different the weather is at the bow of the ship where it is still September 8th than it is at the stern where he is standing on September 10th. Also that food tastes different in both places, too. I think my favourite bit of this silliness is at the end when he jokes:

"If the ships all moved in the one direction--westward, I mean--the world would suffer a prodigious loss in the matter of valuable time, through the dumping overboard on the Great Meridian of such multitudes of days by ships' crews and passengers. But fortunately the ships do not all sail west, half of them sail east. So there is no real loss. These latter pick up all the discarded days and add them to the world's stock again; and about as good as new, too; for of course the salt water perserves them."

Throughout this book, I have discovered just how charming Mark Twain is. And I'm not even halfway through it! It is chock-full of good stuff. I thoroughly recommend you take a browse sometime. Very funny and uplifting.

Pigeon This

Like most people, I suspect, I have a soft spot for animals. When it comes to domestic pets I enjoy the fatter ones. Like cats and dogs. Gotta be fat. So fat they wobble when they walk. Jiggly action prominent, I adore (by the way, this does not apply to humans). No, I wouldn't stuff them with food unwillingly like those poor duckies for their apparently tasty but un-pc fois gras. But I would give them hefty and healthy portions. Because let's face it. The majority do not like bone-stick skinny pets. Do they? Do they? (Except those weirdos who give love to greyhounds. Those things are eerie. But each to their own).

Ahem. Moving on. On the weekend whilst moving some of my junk from one place to another I saw a pigeon dying in an alley. I think I've mentioned before that I like birds. In Sydney I actually had a couple of budgies (aka parakeets) named Walter and Speedy Gonzales. They didn't love me as much as I loved them because one day they flew out my window that I had accidentally left opened and before my eyes I watched Speedy smack head first into the opposite skyrise flats. It was a sad day.

Back on track. This pigeon made me quite upset. The poor thing was walking in half-hearted circles as one of its wings didn't seem to function any longer. I wanted to save it but was due to my apartment to move stuff and I wasn't sure if I should touch it because according to everyone in the world that I know (or is this just me?) pigeons have got a bad rep. Flying rats, I believe they are commonly referred to as. I take it this is due to being disease-riddled. Or so it is said.

So I left. Without helping the pathetic creature. On arrival back from across the City, I walked through the alley and saw the pigeon. Dead. Keeled over and starting to be attacked by flies already. Guilt-stricken, I looked around desperately to see if there was somewhere we could bury it. "Bf, should be bury it?" I asked a bit panicky. Instead bf tried to pick it up with some wire but couldn't so he just picked it up with two fingers and threw it in the nearest dumpster.

Oh, dear. I felt a bit sick. I suppose the dumpster was a bit better than rotting in the alleyway for all to see but I still felt a bit upset about it lying next to all that crap. Was worried about bf actually touching it but he went to wash his hands. That poor pigeon. But honestly, what could I have done? Taken it to a vet? Who does that?

Still. I can't get the image of that bird going round in sad half-circles as if dazed from a knock on the head. I think I need a holiday.