i installed a [Hit Counter] to prove to myself that I am the only person that reads this. turns out, i am the only person who reads this.

dang it.

feeling affronted.

Bob-the-[Not]-Builder, my boss, just insulted me personally.

He called Dave Matthews a "whiny bitch."

His days are numbered.

Its why I am unlikely to agree
Why I am climbin out of my monkey tree

Why I am still here dancin with the GrooGrux King

We'll be drinkin Big Whiskey while we dance and sing

And when my story ends its gonna end with him

Heaven or Hell I'm goin there with the GrooGrux King

It's Why i am the apple of your pretty eye

Why I am a snake in the woodpile

Why I am still here dancin with the GrooGrux King

.dave.

This is what I do when I am bored at work:

Enter graphic design competitions.
awesome.

Bits of Mirrors.

I've been doing a little theorizing lately, and have come to a conclusion that's been running just below the surface for quite some time now.

People come in and out of your life, but the ones with staying power are bits of mirrors, reflecting back to you different facets of yourself. The thing is, these reflections never fully complete the entire picture. They are bits of smoke and glass, scattered across the floor, catching pools of light, flickering gently in the darkness.

I've been thinking and talking a lot about love these days, as I have, for the moment, decided that it is the one true currency we have, the continuum along which we measure ourselves, and it is somewhat responsible for the reflection we see in our bits of mirrors.

A few adjacent souls stand out in my mind as good examples of this discovery, and each has reflected back to me a portion of myself. [The reflection is not necessarily yourself, but rather a suspension of yourself mixed with the mirror, it is not always truthful, but it is not necessarily an illusion either].

The child, full of imagination, wonder, questions and energy is innocent in love, simply delighted, and delighted in the simplicity. The best friend, the partner in crime, is confident and silly, and full of life, forgetful, strong. The comedian, quick witted, biting, and sarcastic, this character is slippery, difficult, and often callous. The mother, caring, giving, selfless to a fault, she often forgets herself until it is too late, dissolving into the warm blackness, tear-streaked and barefooted.

But the picture is not always flattering, and often tells us more than we are willing to see.

The uncertain, insecure and filled with doubt, this character is shifty and blearly eyed, crawling in their own skin, unable to sit still and quiet. This is the most hideous manifestation of a character, as it is one that is most uncomfortable with itself.

But my soul, ancient and deep running, has brushed up, and run parallel to quite a few in the course of my life, and love, like energy has neither been created nor distroyed. Each of these mirrors, with their reflections are not dissolvable, and hang suspended in the continuum.

…A true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that’s holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you’ll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with a soul mate forever. Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank God for it.

Good Question.

Are we human, or are we dancers?

History Boys

Mrs. Lintott:

History is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. What is history? History is women following behind with the bucket.

Can you, for a moment, imagine how depressing it is to teach five centuries of masculine ineptitude?