July 29

Yesterday was my birthday.

Better Days

I heard a saying the other day that was something like, "Make today better than yesterday, for tomorrow will be better than today." Actually the words were far from that, but you get the picture. I'm actually somewhat impressed with myself for that "quote" I just wrote. I should write fortune cookies. If I wrote fortune cookies they would say something like, "you have just gotten food poisoning." (....IN BED!)


So I was wondering if that would actually work. If you actively attempted to make each day better than the next, would you see results? This concept seems like it only belongs on a fortune cookie and not in an incredibly intelligent blog like the one you find yourself reading today. But what if we attempted it on a smaller scale at first. Yesterday I fell asleep with my contacts on. Tonight I won't. Yesterday I experienced road rage. Today I won't. Yesterday I drank too many Mexican Martinis. Tonight I'll just drink wine.

Recently I found myself in a bout of depression for several months at least. One day I decided I was tired of being depressed and from that day forward I was going to push negative thoughts out of my head. As the good becomes overshadowed by the bad, we begin to forget everything wonderful in our lives. So I made active attempts to concentrate on the good in my life and ignore the bad. Well I'm happy to say that, for the most part, it worked! It was my first step towards feeling better. So now that I've worked on my world internally, I'm ready to overcome bad days externally. If yesterday I got soaked in the rain, today I won't leave my house without an umbrella. If yesterday I felt lonely, today I'll call an old friend. Eventually this could become a worldwide movement with everyone taking small steps and then big steps to creating better days. I can't wait until tomorrow!

heart

I want to place my heart in your hands and walk away.

Love in an Elevator

Recently I was coming back to work after my daily Lean Cuisine lunch that I drive home for most days. Upon entering my office building with a belly full of Chicken with Basil Cream Sauce, I see a portly man walking into the "up" elevator that I was about to step on. This "gent" was about 5'7" and probably in his fifties. He looked as if he lived in a land where grease was an accessory and Denny's was Valentine's Day with the Missus. Let's just say I was pretty confident he didn't work in the law office across the hall.

Anyways, he held the door ajar as I stepped on. Our elevator doors in my building have a brass sheen that allows me to check my hair, makeup, and outfit when I'm alone in the elevator. When I am sharing the elevator ride, that awkward social hot box is an excellent place to study strangers and their social behavior. I use the reflection to occasionally glance at the other person in the elevator. I question whether the other person is doing the same, which they most likely are. I wonder where they're going and where they've been. Why did she wear that hideous Angela Bower blouse? Is he getting off on this floor? I wonder how old he is? Is he picturing me naked? If not, should I put my clothes back on?

When the doors closed I studied his brass reflection. He was leaning against the rail that was clearly installed along the back of the elevator to offer some degree of support to passengers. However, I think he was taking the rail's support for granted. Elevator Man was treating the rail as his best friend that he only calls when he needs money, but Rail is such a nice guy he just can't say no and ends up giving it to him even though Rail's water will be shut off and he hasn't bathed in weeks. As he was leaning on the rail he had his feet spread about two feet apart. You'd think we were going to be a while with how he relaxed in a matter of seconds.

I continued to watch him as he began to open a soda that I didn't realize he had. He cracks it open, takes a juicy swig, produces a loud swallow, and then quietly says, "You smell good."

His words cracked through the two-way mirror my subconscious had formed during my social study. I turned to him, gave an overcompensating smile, and said, "Thanks!" much too loudly. A man of few words I'm sure, or maybe because he could have fallen asleep at any moment, he had no words to follow his awkward comment. He only raised his right hand about chin-high as to say, "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to kill, rape, or touch you. I just wanted you to know that I very much enjoyed spending this short time on the elevator with you and your scent." Yes, it was a hand gesture of many words. Right as he lowered his hand, I heard a beautiful ding that only Zack Morris could identify with. I was saved, the doors parted, and I walked off the elevator.

I scurried to my office, sat at my computer, opened Internet Explorer and typed w-w-w-.-c-r-a-i-g-s-l-i-s-t-.-c-o-m. I then clicked Missed Connections and posted this message:


Subject:
Round, Greasy, Loved My Smell Man--w4m(26)


Message:

Sorry I didn't stay and chat on the elevator. I hope you read these. Message me. On our next ride we can go down! (giggle) (j/k) (ha) ;) ;) ;)

You’re So Funny! (giggle, hair flip)

Have you noticed that when a woman says she wants a guy with a great sense of humor, she means she wants a guy that will make her laugh? And when a man says he wants a woman with a great sense of humor, he usually means that he wants a woman that will laugh at his jokes. The truth is a lot of guys just aren't that funny.


But not YOU! You're hilarious! (giggle, hair flip)

Oddity

...the door to the women's bathroom at my office says my name when it closes.

Stoplight

During the torrential ice storm that rocked Austin's world, I was driving around town just as I wasn't supposed to. While stopped at a light, I noticed a crate resting quietly on the median where I'm sure a homeless person once stood. The crate housed four or five fast food drink cups encased in ice that overflowed from the liquid inside the cups onto the crate and then onto the pavement. As I noticed and then, in turn, stared at the frozen crate on the street, my mind began to wander. First of all, why would a homeless person have so many drinks? Maybe it was a group of homeless people. Or maybe they weren't even homeless. Maybe it was a group of those firefighters that pick an intersection and then split up asking for money to be tossed into his golash? (ha. Is that the singular for golashes? This is the first time I've ever found the need to not speak of golashes in a pair.) I have to admit that I've seen many scraggly people begging for money on the streets and instead of handing them money, more often than not, I ignored them; I checked my face in the visor mirror; I made a phone call; I looked at the car to my right as to not make eye contact to the person in need to my left. I'm that girl. Yet when the hot firefighters are asking for money, I somehow find it in my heart or wallet to give them some money. However, the dollar bills do happen to have my phone number written on them, but that never works out. I have had to change my phone number several times because I keep getting these veterans and orphans calling me and asking me out. The veterans aren't so bad, but the orphans have a mommy complex.

..That reminds me of a time when I was putting my groceries in my car in the HEB parking lot at Congress and Oltorf. As I was loading my groceries, a man who was not employed by HEB walked up to my cart and began grabbing my groceries and handing them to me and putting some in my car. In a different world, that would have been a chivalrous thing to do. But in this world, when I'm a young woman and he's a homeless man, it's not so chivalrous. I luckily only had a few left when he arrived, so I said my polite 'thank you' and was ready to jump in my car, loudly lock my doors, and get the hell out of there. Instead he began his speech, "Hi ma'am. I was just, uh, I was just wondering if you might have a dollar or sumpin' to give me." I honestly didn't have any cash, but I did have change in the ashtray in my car.
I told him, "Unless you take debit or mastercard, this is all I have." Okay I didn't say that. I just said, "I'm sorry, I don't have any cash, just change." He welcomed it and I handed him a handful of assorted change.
As I was about to shut the door, he began another speech, "Uh, hey, uh, do you think I could get your number?" Although so far he showed promise to be a fantastic boyfriend after all his chivalry, I weighed the options and decided that his lack of looks, job, home, and hygiene far outweighed his chivalry and money-begging skills.
Because I have an innate reflex to quickly be sarcastic back to someone (I have to work on that.), my first reaction was,"(smirk) uh, yeah." I could actually see his eyes widen and chest fill as he was astonished by my positive reaction.
He replied, "Really?" For some self-absorbed, evil reason, I actually thought he would have gotten that I was joking.
I quickly broke the news to him and said, "Uh, no." He deflated, thanked me and left. Let's hope he wasn't the one.

...Anyways, the crate. So then I began to ponder about who was going to pick up that crate that has since frozen to the ground. Thieves certainly aren't going to take it. It isn't of any value. If all people were geniunely good inside, then we could leave whatever we wanted on the ground and just pick it up later. "Where did I leave my guitar? Oh it's on 6th and West...I'll get it tomorrow."

"Oh look at that stereotypically-cartoon moneybag on the sidewalk...Someone may trip over it!"

"I hide my diaphragm on the onramp of North 183 coming from I-35. It's a little inconvenient when I'm in the moment, but it sure beats having anyone I don't want to finding it."

Instead of having that luxury, we must hoard and hide all of our belongings. The common criminal is like the bottom feeder of the human world. Without their assistance in "cleaning up," everyone's junk would clutter the streets! Instead of imprisoning thieves, maybe we should take this moment to thank them. I thank you, dear thief, for inspiring me to keep my valuables close, to hide what must be hidden, and to keep my money in a bank instead of on a sidewalk in front of your house.



...and then the light turned green.