Woke up at seven to a temperature of eight degrees outside and quickly decided it would be unfair of me to curse the recent trend of season appropriate, frigid weather patterns without acknowledging such a generous boost of the thermometer. So I was up and out by 7:30am, walking like it was early October again. Granted, the heavy winds are pushing like an arctic blast of fury, so what was anticipated to be a comfortable stroll has turned into another episode of frigid fingers and icicles from the nose. Luckily I put on my big boy, winter warm underwear so I remain committed. You got me though, Mother Nature, you got me.
I'm taking advantage of a short indoor respite before heading out again but the sun is on the rise and I will be out walking soon enough with a grin on my face. Not too big a grin mind you, as I'm afraid my face will literally freeze that way and I refuse to give my mother satisfaction by lending credence to her early childhood warnings.
Whatever the temperature that awaits you as you begin your day, I wish you good will and fortune as you step forth into another Tuesday. Amazing how they seem to show up every seven days or so.
Tuesday tunage to accompany a shiver or two: Thomas Dolby "She Blinded Me With Science".
OK, I'm at my desk - dressed, showered, caffeinated, wearing my new slippers from Giant Tiger, and my sexy koala earmuffs from the Dollar Store. Time to give this morning another go and be someone else again. I'd say be myself again but then I'd still be a cranky bastard with a pessimistic outlook and questionable motivation so I'd like to try something different and see how it goes.
But you be you, people. You're doing just fine.
Also, I posted a new poem today titled She Is That Strong.
Wow. Now that was a brutal crawl out of sleep and into a new day. Like an infant slug forcing its way through the membrane of a balloon. When the muffled sound of your phone's alarm burrows its way into your consciousness through several feet of water, while someone slowly increases the volume until you can no longer convince yourself you're deaf to its existence and the first utterance you can muster is "Awwww no, no, no, no, no" as you fumble clumsily through the dark, cursing your inability to physically choke the life out of the object of your torment, rather than struggle for what seems like a lifetime, manipulating dead fingers across its dimly lit screen in a futile attempt to mash the tiny icon that will finally bring back the blessed silence. You debate resetting it for another hour of sweet unconsciousness, but begrudgingly accept defeat when you realize you will only be stealing from yourself and cursing your decision when you're scrambling to squeeze too much work into too little time and wondering where the day went.
And thus Monday is born and another week is upon us. If I wasn't an Atheist I might plead to God to have mercy on my soul. As it is, I'm content to make do with a simple "shit" uttered through clenched teeth.
Song of the day: The Soup Dragons "I'm Free".
Sunday morning and the temperature has dropped back down to zero but I was up at eight, showered and dressed, and here I am, already outside and on the move. A big change from yesterday morning. On the outside, at least, but this is the first step to changing the inside. It may not make a difference but at least I know I will feel better that I tried. That I didn't just roll over and go back to sleep. That I didn't choose to hide. If depression wants me today, it can come and find me. I don't see why I should be the only one doing all the work.
P.S.: I finally figured out how to put on my scarf properly but as I have it wrapped around a hoodie and I'm still wearing my motorcycle jacket, I fear whatever I might have gained in intellectual progress, I have sorely lost in fashion acumen. I still have to work on that whole "hat" thing.
Sunday sing-along: Otis Redding "Hard To Handle".
Very late start today. I find when I sleep in I am more vulnerable to the negative thoughts and emotions that can plague me so I try to make sure I get up first thing, even when it's hard. This morning I slipped and sure enough, Depression came to visit with its brothers Hopelessness and Worthlessness in tow. At first I was prepared to just give in but then I decided I didn't want to waste another day. So I said "fuck you," threw on some 80's music, grabbed a shower, got dressed, and got my ass out into the sunshine. Some days, all it takes is a pair of red Converse and a red cup of coffee and you're back on top.
Music to get moving: Clarence Carter "Stroke It".
The kettle I use to make my coffee is manufactured by Betty Crocker. I keep trying to get it to make me cupcakes but it's stuck on the hot water setting. I figure more coffee will help me figure it out.
According to Bon Jovi, someone has been giving love a bad name. My hope is it isn't a name like "Ignatius Thunderbottom". Enough people have difficulty telling others they love them and this sort of thing will kill any hopes of getting them over that hurdle. Not to mention how difficult it's going to be signing those little cards you send with a bouquet of flowers. I think that person is being very selfish, making everything much harder on the rest of us, simply because they have a grudge against a simple four letter word.
It's been great chatting with you. Be sure to give my Ignatius Thunderbottom to your mother for me when you see her.
Today I've got a little bounce in my step, a little pep in my stride, a little go-out-and-get, and nothing to hide. There's also a little tear in my underwear but let's agree to focus on the positive, OK?