The Revelator

So, I’m sometimes pretty funny.  Maybe only to myself, but I figure that’s a good start, towards eventually, accidentally, making someone else laugh.  And laughter helps heal a lot of wounds.   My boss had a very funny and very dirty typo and it was my duty to point it out before it was spread to the general public, but it made me laugh and leavened my heart.  Then, I made them all laugh, and they all stood in awe of my wit and I remembered that’s sort of my personality and it was nice to be who I am – if only just a shade of it.

So I’m sitting here in bed, with my half-eaten Atkins bar next to me (which I will finish in just a moment), and I’m just trying to get myself nearer to sleeping mode.  I feel like it must be nearly midnight, but that’s just because of the long day I had – an 11 hour day full of meetings and fancy lunches which I did much better at than I even expected myself to  – and now I want to write and be creative and do everything I typically stretch out over a weekend.  And I want to do it in an hour and a half.

That’s not going to happen.

But some of it is or could if I keep marching forward.   And not letting myself get distracted by Mumford videos on YouTube.  I definitely still need to pick up the junk I’ve dumped all over my clean room including my sugar free Margarita mixer packets that are staring me in the face here.  This reminds me.  I apparently have signed up for an alcohol awareness course at 9:00am in the bloody Saturday morning.   Yeah.  It’s so that I can serve alcohol at our events – though I never do, it’s more of a just in case situation – and it’s also so my co-worker can get off my back about it.  However, this is like a 2 hour class.  I think that’s a bit excessive.  Well, it’s technically a four hour class, but she told me they did it in two.  I hope nobody gets too excited about the whole concept and asks questions or ridiculous shit like that.

I feel rather Holden Caulfieldesque today.

Um.

I’m glad that people seemed to like yesterday’s bit of fiction which is a bit of a much larger piece, a novel really, and eventually I’ll peel it off the page here and work on straightening it up so it makes sense contextually.   See, I do have other ideas than just lists of crap I did and will do and won’t do ever again.

Someday, you know, I’ll fall in love and have a baby and all of this death at the edge of a roaring infinity shit will seem quite quaint and naive.

Yet tonight, I still need to get back on the bike and pedal my little heart out for ten minutes.  Ten minutes a day, every day, over a significant length of time makes a habit.   That and some situps and I’ll feel satisfied with myself.

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