1/28/09

How many wishes do I get?

I wish I could STOP BEING CRANKY!

1/20/09

Benign neglect

I have been shamefully neglectful of this blog, and lazily tumblin all over the place. (To my #1 cousin who thinks I have endless free time, posting stuff on the tumblr is way, way easier than using thought and typing about things!)

In other news, I am striving to be memorable, lovable and fit. In some sort of order. I may or may not have given up on incredibly wealthy.

1/13/09

Bloggity blog!

Yet another place to see my stuff (hooray!)

I Can Bring Home the Bacon

for women in business for themselves!

1/10/09

Dreams revisited.

I am lucky to have such good friends, even those who are yaks.

This deserves reprinting in its entirety (a comment on the previous post) because it says much about the writer and the writee, as it were. Who may be the only people to whom it makes sense, which is fine.

Thanks. Keep on trucking, dogsledding and skateboarding.

I would say that you have what others call dreams, but you just don't call them that. Perhaps "don't consider them that" would be more accurate?

Here's a game. First solve for X in

I want to _____X______

Now solve for Y1 or Y2:

I want to X because I want to Y1 or because of Y2.

Now solve for Z1 or Z2:

I want to Y1 because of Z.

The reason Y2 affects me is Z.

Once you get to Z (or perhaps a few more iterations), I think you may be on to something.

On the other hand, if it takes getting to Z (or a few more iterations to ZZZZ...), doesn't that mean sleeping, which counterfeeds back into the title of the post?

Off to sleep myself ...

1/9/09

Dreams are for people who sleep.

It is horrifying to wake up at a rather advanced age and realize you don't have a life's dream.

Watching too much fair-to-middling reality TV will bring this home.

I wish I was blissfully ignorant enough to think that I could just pick up and 'make it' in New York, Las Vegas, LA, wherever.

Unfortunately, all I see are broken plans and downsides and struggle and unanswered phone calls and three-AM sweats.

What, I say, the fuck?