Its the week of a holiday and apparently my department decided to take the entire week off; I have nothing to do. Others seem to be working, but I at the bottom of the hill of shit to roll down have successfully moved the manuer piles as they come at me and am now left with nothing to do but muse.
Thought One to Chew On: I met a guy for dinner last night that I'd never met before. He read my online profile (that I wrote of myself in an astonishingly honest and upbeat mood), emailed me for two days (where we talked of much but mostly how much I rock and how he so wants to spend time with me), got consent for the date (when I refused to divulge experiental data online and demanded an address to meet him at), and after all that me-talking-about-me his assessment of me at near first glance (as his impression was made of me and the picture posted of me laughing wildly in a mall six months ago) was "under rated".
I'm a little confused because I didn't once flaunt that I graduated University and have been at menial desk jobs since. Never spouted at how I never complained at the dishes in the sink when all the roomies I've ever had pick this as the worst offense. Didn't brag at my standardized test scores or my enrollment in special classes to keep me from turning to drugs for stimulation. Not once did I foreshadow my desire to be great in the very near future or the possibility that I am in a position at my company where they can see my potential and use it instead of wait for me to get bored and leave.
He had no explanation to support his phrase. And its been on my mind since it fell out of his mouth. He also had no support for "its your face - people think you party because of how you look" as I looked down at my half size too big jeans, kahki and white tennies, and spring colored pinstriped shirt with my hair in a 50's style single ponytail and moderate-to-look-natural makeup. Not sure why this guys assessment is sticking with me, but maybe he cfame into my life to buy me sushi and Sapporo and thought nuggets that get stuck in my brain for a bit.
Thought Two to Chew On: Is consideration really a sliding scale of a personality trait or is it a pass/fail test?? For your consideration...
Miss Menthol is one to take an incoming call on her cell phone, start it at her desk, decide its rude and rush to take it outside, come back STILL TALKING, sit at her desk with both feet up on the computer, leaning back in her chair, flipping her hair furiously over my desk and demand "I have to go" only after she has emphatically forcefed her point to the sap on the other end as she hits End to make her point the last given. She will then let out a "Sheesh" and describe to me the whole conversation no matter what I am doing- unless I don't look up, in which case she "hurmph"s loudly and goes about her business. This is surely a part of her day she could modify to be ACTUALLY considerate if in fact we are on a sliding scale model. She obviously knows shes participating in a possibly inconsiderate activity or why else would she leave for the duration of the body of the conversation? Oh, she is just so important no one should hear what she has to say until she gives the final report two seconds after hanging up.
Also, I have a roomate who does not understand cohabitation. There is no reason for her to see a room with a conversation happening as anything besides a room with a computer she wants to be at. To check her email. For the fourth time in the hour. To see if the guy on the other side of the world woke up and emailed her yet. She can not comprehend that if she is at said computer and the cat who lives exclusively in that room wants to eat, he will just walk the table in his normal fashion with no regard that she is watching the monitor. As if she wasn't there. To her, there is no respect for her being there and how dare he act as if the room was only there for his purposes. As she finally acknowledges the two humans in the room (15 minutes since her entry) to complain of devilish the cat who obviously needs to be trained respect her presence, she finds two animal lovers (strike one) who avoided a conversation mid sentance because she walked into the room (strike two) with mouths agape at her need to talk over the tangential conversation just to complain that her IM date was interupted by a damn cat who ::gasp:: wanted to be the center of attention for two seconds while grabbing a bite (strike three). She left in a huff that we were not more agreeable to her plight.
This indifference to any other mammals right to exist in the space deemed theirs at the moment would have me believeing consideration is in fact a yes or no question to answer on the MMPI. Though I find my personal habits of consideration to be more of a sliding scale... like some days I ask the dog "excuse me please" and other days I start with the side of my foot pushing the hind end out of my way and only when they (there are two dogs I will do this to) stand up do I say "thanks, dang!"
Thought Three to Chew On: I have taken to having a big bottle of our "filtered" office water that tastes like stale ass at room tempurature at my desk and filling a full ice cup as my hydration source. I used to refill the 6oz cup in the kitchen as many times a day as I could remember; the evolution provides a much superior method. Here's the thought - there is something about pouring my desired drink from a bottle over resting ice that is akin to my weekend of pouring from the bottle of vodka over ice. Is it that I have figured out a way to avoid the afternoon thirsties or that I so want the ritual involved in drinking so much it has overlapped into my work day?
Thought Four to Chew On: The flu is going around my office. When Aunt Flow brought her torture devices last week, I left early and the office assumed I caught the bug. I insisted I was healthy and that this month's rendition of "so you didn't get pregnant AGAIN?!?!?" was being an especially rowdy performance, but they only heard 'sick' and dismissed me eagerly.
Today I can hear an obviously not allergy induced sneeze across the cubicle hallway, a wheeze from the office behind me, a stuffy head kiddycorner, and from My Miss Menthol a cough that screams bronchitis which I know very affectionately as the Maja Rumble. My grandma had the same constantly sick lungs being smoked over the entire time I knew her and she sounded exactly the same as the woman who shares my 18 square feet 7 hrs a day. The problem with this is that I can't catch smokers cough - I can catch a chest cold to mimic the sound. And with the "everyone is sick" thoughts around here, all I can think is "I'm Healthy" as a mantra to keep their negative thoughts and virus loaded exhales from sinking in at my holiday dinner.
Thought Five to Chew On: If I spend this Thanksgiving with a family and not my family, is there anything wrong with that? There is bound to be rash judgements, mountains of food, plenty of inside jokes and a swarm of sidelong glances and winks - just like any family get together of mine - and I will be welcomed as part of theirs with open arms... but they are not my bloodline. Its not that my family isn't around or that I haven't been invited. I would rather go to a home I've never been in to eat a cerimonial meal with people I've only heard of and participate in razing insecurities of near strangers while asking them to pass the unfamiliar mashed potatoes and pour me another glass of wine. Seriously, is there any reason to think a guilty thought on this subject?
Thought Six to Chew On: If my spiffy new phone/iPod can hold 100 songs but I only uploaded six albums this weekend, how many times can I listen to the same album I've already listened to once a week for over a year before I 1)don't hear it anymore and its used solely for drowning out the sicky noises or 2)I can't stand the sounds anymore and I must listen to the sicky noises for fear of pulling my ears off?
All this thinking has really got me hungry. I'm going to raid the leftovers from the conference room for bite sized brownies and chicken salad and find a schedule of gym classes to plan the ones I'll go to. And if my duplicitous actions (well planned out I'll have you notice) have you wondering if I've fallen off my rocker, check out Avatar's description of a perfect woman and revel in the glory that is Pretty Damn Close.