This week I:
1. Made my first cold call.
2. Bought a pair of Frye boots.
3. Went on a 9 mile bike ride
4. Moved several boxes.
5. Lived with a married couple who were not related to me.
6. Received word that I got my first deal. (Not as a result of a cold call, though.)
7. Admitted to myself that I have a crush on basically all of the security guards at work. But I have a soft spot for one in particular. Even if he does call me ma'am.
8. Ate Turkish bbq
9. Survived longest, most humid bus ride of my life (most of it without a seat)
10. Bought a ticket for a 6:30 am flight (For work. You all know I would never ever do such a thing to myself voluntarily.)
SOTW: Tim Easton's Next To You and Taio Cruz' Break Your Heart.
Friday, October 12, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Looking For An Orange
I want a bright orange relationship.
Orange people are high-impact. They're smart, dedicated, sweet as the juice, with just enough tangy imperfection to make them the citrus they are. They come with a lot of relationship vitamins that keep things going smoothly. They grab your attention--mostly on the first or second time you talk to them. They wake you up, mentally, and when you wear them, you get looked at lots more often because it's the perfect shade for you (even though, chances are, you never would have tried it on in the store on first glance). They're interesting and interested. They talk and they listen. They wait and they push.
After being in a bright orange relationship, you never want to go back to pastels. Or dabble in earth tones. Or set yourself up with the high-maintenance jewel tones. You just want an orange.
Orange is a little intimidating because it doesn't go with everything, and not everybody likes it. It's eye catching and no-nonsense. There's no mistaking it; no other word for it, no substitutes, no rhymes. Orange is orange: necessary and unique.
There aren't very many oranges. They're few and far between. They don't apologize for who they are and they won't change to yellow or red if you ask them. Not that I ever would...because then I would no longer have an orange...and that's what I want. A bright orange relationship.
Orange people are high-impact. They're smart, dedicated, sweet as the juice, with just enough tangy imperfection to make them the citrus they are. They come with a lot of relationship vitamins that keep things going smoothly. They grab your attention--mostly on the first or second time you talk to them. They wake you up, mentally, and when you wear them, you get looked at lots more often because it's the perfect shade for you (even though, chances are, you never would have tried it on in the store on first glance). They're interesting and interested. They talk and they listen. They wait and they push.
After being in a bright orange relationship, you never want to go back to pastels. Or dabble in earth tones. Or set yourself up with the high-maintenance jewel tones. You just want an orange.
Orange is a little intimidating because it doesn't go with everything, and not everybody likes it. It's eye catching and no-nonsense. There's no mistaking it; no other word for it, no substitutes, no rhymes. Orange is orange: necessary and unique.
There aren't very many oranges. They're few and far between. They don't apologize for who they are and they won't change to yellow or red if you ask them. Not that I ever would...because then I would no longer have an orange...and that's what I want. A bright orange relationship.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Dreamscape
Just now I had a dream. (Keep in mind as you read this that it is 3:45am and I am not wearing glasses.This has not been edited.)
I had a deream that I was going somewhere. Eitiher LA or Seattle, I think. I decided to go last minute, and I was going to fly. (Must have been LA. I was going for an escape. I needed to get away from my situation as soon as possible. So wearing my trusty yoga pants and my in-n-out t-shirt, I went and got in my trusty car and drove to the airport (where, by the way, in the way that only dreams work, my car magically parked itself and disappeared). I got out, and I realized I had no luggage. I decided this was fine because I was, after all, just going for a weekend, and even though I didn't have all my medicine or a change of clothes or PJs or anything, I thought, I'm just going for a bit, somehow I'll be fine, and proceeded to get on the escalator.
Of course there was no security, so I went up the escalator and past the peple who help you board flights, and I didn't even sit down before I decided it was a mistake. The whole thing. I needed medicine, and I needed other stuff. Throughout my walk through the airport it had been niggling in the back of my mind that this was a stupid idea, but I over-rode it until after. I sat down and hadn't even put on my seat belt when for some reason I stood up and exited the plane, somehow intent on getting my luggage with my medicine in it.
I got off the plane. I was just going to go to the hotel and get my bag. It was already packed, because I had stayed the previous night at a cheap hotel. [Why hadn't I brought it with me?] So I left the plane, to get a drink, and then I decided, no, it's not worth going back, you don't have time before the flight leaves, so I headed back toward the tarmac. I had been on a small plane - the kind that only has three seats to a row - and as I trotted down the ramp toward the plane, I saw it take off, without me. I yelled angril at the traffic controller, Hey! I need to be on that plane! Are you going to stop it?
He started talking into his walke talkie and gestured to me that they would turn the plane around. I said, sir, I need my medicine, it's in the bag in the hotel that's attached to the airport. He just looked at me consideringly and asked me if I thought that I could be back in time...was it worth their while to turn the plane around for me. I assured him I would be back, even as I saw the plan start to slowly circle back around the windy U-turn path it would need to take to turn around and approach the gate again, and I immediately ran up the ramp to go to the hotel and get my bag.I wasn't sure if there was medicine in my bag, but I knew there was some in my car, so as long as I could get to my car, I'd be fine.
The hotel lobby was swanky. I went up to the front desk and said look, I need my bag, but I don't hav ea room key. (I was in yoga pants. Where would I have put the key?) and he just looked at me and said okay, we'll give you a key, but we only do this four times for customers. I said, okay, fine, and got my key and ran for the elevator. It was gold inside, with lit buttons in that goldy orange yellow hue backlit - you know the kind I mean. Anyway I was so exited that I didn't even push a button, and somehow five other people got off, at 9, 44, 63, and 83. I was on floor 84B. There were two towers to the hotel, apparently, and I was in B. I was so impatient to get off the elevator that I almost got off on 63 and 83, but restrained myself, in that jokey self-deprecating way I have. (i was defending my jumpiness to my elevator neighbors.) I rushed in and grabbed my trusty black travel bag, and then got in the elevator, where I was conveniently alone (no stops on the way down to hinder me from making my plane as it turned around expressly for me). I pushed the buttons, which had changed slightly. 84, and then there was a button that was kind of like a volume control button on a TV remote A was up, and B was down. but they were on the same button. I was having trouble just getting the "B" pushed. I got in the elevator and wanted to go to the lobby, and sure enough the elevator started moving, but it went down to floor 9. I wanted to go to 84b though! So I carefully re-touched the butttons and waited....nothing happened except the elevator went up and down a little, like it was burping.
Now in a panic, sure that I was going to miss my plane, I started pushing buttons like crazy, to no avail. I was stuck. Precious seconds ticked by, then minutes. I lunged out of the hotel lobby when finally arrived, and then started running for dear life for the gate, knowing in my heart that the plane was gone and they turned it around for nothing and every single one of the people on the plane would have been angry because even though the plane tecnically left me early (the stated departure time had not yet passed, and why would they leave knowing that one of the people wasn't on the plane, who had checked in and sat down?)
I was utterly dejected. I missed my flight, and I had tried so hard to escape.
Then I woke up. I felt sticky icky inside.
And I thought. And I thought some more.
And I realized it wasn't morning. And I realized I had a gigantic headache. And I realized that my dream made no sense.
First, I wasn't even clear where I was "escaping" to.
Second, my car magically disappeared, and turned into a hotel.
Third, I was so intent on my medicine in my bag that I left the plane....only I hadn't brought a bag with me in the car.
Fourth, I hadn't stayed in a hotel. I had just gotten in the car, parked, had my car magically whisked away by the parking elves (no, there was not valet parking), and had run inside.
So. I left the plane, and I had no money, no medicine, and no bag. Maybe I did this because I knew in my heart that without at least money and medicine, this escape would be deemed by any judge to be poorly executed and impossible to achieve. But something told me that this was the last plane to Glory, and that I was "reasonably there." And I left it for a nonexistent bag that was in a nonexistent hotel room. This thought was utterly horrifying. And I was so disgusted with myself that I had left my house totally unprepared. It made me think of the ten virgins parable. And it made me wonder, am I doing something in my life that I need to change so that I don't miss my escape plane from this existence? I don't want to miss my plane over, literally, a figment of my imagination.
So now I know: dreams make no sense. It was a failed dream escape. LA is definitely not my glory. And I still have that blasted headache, and I'm still mad that I left the plane for such a ruse. I don't think I would have enjoyed my trip much, even if I'd stayed on the plane. I think it turned out better that I missed it.
The weird thing, I know this dream was brought on by some holiday ticket trauma - I have to change my Chreetmat tickets after having bought them and I am nervous that I won't be able to in time (work peeps are holding up the decision. Yes, I had asked for time off, but for some reason they decided to tack on a holiday party the week before christmas...). And also the bed I am sleeping in makes me sleep more lightly and I have had weird dreams all week. But none that were as crazy as this.
Imagine missing your escape plane for a nonexistent bag! Although I don't know what I was escaping from, and I didn't have a plan for what I was going to do (except visit Kimmy and Marti). I think whatever I was going to do, luggage wasn't needed. I think that where I am going is back to sleep. I'm not leaving my bed, and I'm certainly not going to the airport. So I think I"ll just try to catch the train to sleep glory again and call what happened a dreamscape.
I had a deream that I was going somewhere. Eitiher LA or Seattle, I think. I decided to go last minute, and I was going to fly. (Must have been LA. I was going for an escape. I needed to get away from my situation as soon as possible. So wearing my trusty yoga pants and my in-n-out t-shirt, I went and got in my trusty car and drove to the airport (where, by the way, in the way that only dreams work, my car magically parked itself and disappeared). I got out, and I realized I had no luggage. I decided this was fine because I was, after all, just going for a weekend, and even though I didn't have all my medicine or a change of clothes or PJs or anything, I thought, I'm just going for a bit, somehow I'll be fine, and proceeded to get on the escalator.
Of course there was no security, so I went up the escalator and past the peple who help you board flights, and I didn't even sit down before I decided it was a mistake. The whole thing. I needed medicine, and I needed other stuff. Throughout my walk through the airport it had been niggling in the back of my mind that this was a stupid idea, but I over-rode it until after. I sat down and hadn't even put on my seat belt when for some reason I stood up and exited the plane, somehow intent on getting my luggage with my medicine in it.
I got off the plane. I was just going to go to the hotel and get my bag. It was already packed, because I had stayed the previous night at a cheap hotel. [Why hadn't I brought it with me?] So I left the plane, to get a drink, and then I decided, no, it's not worth going back, you don't have time before the flight leaves, so I headed back toward the tarmac. I had been on a small plane - the kind that only has three seats to a row - and as I trotted down the ramp toward the plane, I saw it take off, without me. I yelled angril at the traffic controller, Hey! I need to be on that plane! Are you going to stop it?
He started talking into his walke talkie and gestured to me that they would turn the plane around. I said, sir, I need my medicine, it's in the bag in the hotel that's attached to the airport. He just looked at me consideringly and asked me if I thought that I could be back in time...was it worth their while to turn the plane around for me. I assured him I would be back, even as I saw the plan start to slowly circle back around the windy U-turn path it would need to take to turn around and approach the gate again, and I immediately ran up the ramp to go to the hotel and get my bag.I wasn't sure if there was medicine in my bag, but I knew there was some in my car, so as long as I could get to my car, I'd be fine.
The hotel lobby was swanky. I went up to the front desk and said look, I need my bag, but I don't hav ea room key. (I was in yoga pants. Where would I have put the key?) and he just looked at me and said okay, we'll give you a key, but we only do this four times for customers. I said, okay, fine, and got my key and ran for the elevator. It was gold inside, with lit buttons in that goldy orange yellow hue backlit - you know the kind I mean. Anyway I was so exited that I didn't even push a button, and somehow five other people got off, at 9, 44, 63, and 83. I was on floor 84B. There were two towers to the hotel, apparently, and I was in B. I was so impatient to get off the elevator that I almost got off on 63 and 83, but restrained myself, in that jokey self-deprecating way I have. (i was defending my jumpiness to my elevator neighbors.) I rushed in and grabbed my trusty black travel bag, and then got in the elevator, where I was conveniently alone (no stops on the way down to hinder me from making my plane as it turned around expressly for me). I pushed the buttons, which had changed slightly. 84, and then there was a button that was kind of like a volume control button on a TV remote A was up, and B was down. but they were on the same button. I was having trouble just getting the "B" pushed. I got in the elevator and wanted to go to the lobby, and sure enough the elevator started moving, but it went down to floor 9. I wanted to go to 84b though! So I carefully re-touched the butttons and waited....nothing happened except the elevator went up and down a little, like it was burping.
Now in a panic, sure that I was going to miss my plane, I started pushing buttons like crazy, to no avail. I was stuck. Precious seconds ticked by, then minutes. I lunged out of the hotel lobby when finally arrived, and then started running for dear life for the gate, knowing in my heart that the plane was gone and they turned it around for nothing and every single one of the people on the plane would have been angry because even though the plane tecnically left me early (the stated departure time had not yet passed, and why would they leave knowing that one of the people wasn't on the plane, who had checked in and sat down?)
I was utterly dejected. I missed my flight, and I had tried so hard to escape.
Then I woke up. I felt sticky icky inside.
And I thought. And I thought some more.
And I realized it wasn't morning. And I realized I had a gigantic headache. And I realized that my dream made no sense.
First, I wasn't even clear where I was "escaping" to.
Second, my car magically disappeared, and turned into a hotel.
Third, I was so intent on my medicine in my bag that I left the plane....only I hadn't brought a bag with me in the car.
Fourth, I hadn't stayed in a hotel. I had just gotten in the car, parked, had my car magically whisked away by the parking elves (no, there was not valet parking), and had run inside.
So. I left the plane, and I had no money, no medicine, and no bag. Maybe I did this because I knew in my heart that without at least money and medicine, this escape would be deemed by any judge to be poorly executed and impossible to achieve. But something told me that this was the last plane to Glory, and that I was "reasonably there." And I left it for a nonexistent bag that was in a nonexistent hotel room. This thought was utterly horrifying. And I was so disgusted with myself that I had left my house totally unprepared. It made me think of the ten virgins parable. And it made me wonder, am I doing something in my life that I need to change so that I don't miss my escape plane from this existence? I don't want to miss my plane over, literally, a figment of my imagination.
So now I know: dreams make no sense. It was a failed dream escape. LA is definitely not my glory. And I still have that blasted headache, and I'm still mad that I left the plane for such a ruse. I don't think I would have enjoyed my trip much, even if I'd stayed on the plane. I think it turned out better that I missed it.
The weird thing, I know this dream was brought on by some holiday ticket trauma - I have to change my Chreetmat tickets after having bought them and I am nervous that I won't be able to in time (work peeps are holding up the decision. Yes, I had asked for time off, but for some reason they decided to tack on a holiday party the week before christmas...). And also the bed I am sleeping in makes me sleep more lightly and I have had weird dreams all week. But none that were as crazy as this.
Imagine missing your escape plane for a nonexistent bag! Although I don't know what I was escaping from, and I didn't have a plan for what I was going to do (except visit Kimmy and Marti). I think whatever I was going to do, luggage wasn't needed. I think that where I am going is back to sleep. I'm not leaving my bed, and I'm certainly not going to the airport. So I think I"ll just try to catch the train to sleep glory again and call what happened a dreamscape.
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