Can’t help myself

I just spent my lunch hour looking at random shit on the Web. It’s one of my favorite pastimes. I have almost no filter when I do this; nearly any topic is fair game.

Side note: If I’m being honest, I have little patience for people my age who won’t admit that they enjoy spending hours looking at weird shit on the Web. That’s about like telling me you’ve never masturbated; I just don’t believe you and now we can’t be friends because I won’t trust you. Anyway, I digress. Continue reading

Excuses, excuses

I haven’t written on my blog in over three weeks. I really didn’t think anyone was paying attention, but now people have begun asking why they aren’t getting emails about new posts any longer. How sweet of you, readers; I didn’t you know you cared.

This post is not really meant to be a blog post, at least not in the spirit of why I started this blog. It’s more like a rambling list of excuses for the people who keep asking what’s up. I hope you’ll accept some of them.

Here are some things that have been happening lately:

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Dear scruffy, tattooed man,

Let’s get something straight, first: You aren’t my type. Really. Don’t get me wrong; I dig the tats. When I saw you walking your dog outside of my apartment building this morning, they were the first thing I noticed about you. But I don’t go for blondes. And those soccer sandals, worn over ankle socks, really killed any chance we ever could have had. Sorry. You probably just rolled out of bed like that. I’m a tough critic.

Now that we have that out of the way, I want to tell you a few things. Continue reading

Come on, fate

I love talking to strangers. I have a habit of getting into deep, personal conversations with new people, peeling away as many layers as I can to see who they really are, maybe hear their best stories. In my mind, there is something so thrilling about what could be. A nice-looking man at a cocktail party could turn out to be my girlfriend’s future husband, but not if I don’t go meet him and get them talking. That odd-looking fellow, seated at the bar, could be a writer, too, and maybe he’ll say the thing that finally breaks through my writer’s block.

All of this is just an extended flirtation with possibility. In each new encounter, I’m taunting fate: Come on. Show me what you’ve got. 

Sometimes my fascination with strangers leads to bizarre, and maybe even dangerous situations. But sometimes, it creates pure magic.

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Other people’s words

A friend tried to recommend a new book to me today and I almost snapped at him; I already have too many books in-process right now, and it’s stressing me out. It’s time to start finishing some of them to make room for the next crop.

I don’t know why I’ve been allowing this current class to linger for so long. Maybe I’ve grown a bit of an attachment. I like coming home to find those familiar friends hanging around.

I’ve compiled a list of favorite passages from some of the books I’ve been reading lately. I’m hoping this will help me get comfortable letting them go. I know it’s time to finish these books and move on, but it’s just so hard to say goodbye. Here goes nothing… Continue reading

This is discipline. Really.

cheese

I want to work on my blog today. I mean, I really want to write. I’ve been writing something in my head for a couple days and I am itching to put it on the screen. When I get ideas like this, they’re all-consuming until I write them down, so I usually just give in and start writing. But today, I absolutely don’t have time for it.

I’m trying to work on being more disciplined about how I spend my time, particularly during the work week. Today, that means admitting that I don’t have time to work on my blog and tackling some big work deadlines instead. It pains me. Look — I’ve already written two paragraphs about how I am not writing anything today.

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SWF seeks perfect coffee shop

chai
The best chai latte I’ve found in Denver (so far), made in-house at Drip. But I’m still searching…

I’m on a quest for the perfect coffee shop.  Like most modern cities, Denver has endless options. I’ve been introduced to several of them over the past year, but I still haven’t found The One. Or if I have found that special match, I haven’t realized it yet.

There are people in my life who believe that “The Universe” always provides us with everything we need; but sometimes, we have to be willing to ask for it. I struggle with this view, to be honest, but I’m willing to give it a shot. (“The Universe” is my generic placeholder for all the different labels we ascribe to a thing that makes sense of why we’re here.)

As I understand it, the teaching is that you have to clarify your intentions and then make them known, to yourself, everyone around you, and The Universe. And once you’ve made your intentions clear and you’ve aligned your efforts with them, the conditions are ripe for magic to happen.

In my search for The One, I think I could use a little magic right now. After all, we’re talking about my second-favorite beverage and a suitable place in which to worship it. This is serious business.

Today, I sat down and attempted to clarify my intentions in this quest (thank you, #procrastination). It turns out, the things I seek in a coffee shop are many of the same things I seek in a mate. That sounds like it could be a problem to address in another post — or maybe one to take up with a professional. But for now, I’ll offer my statement of intentions.

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The Hyperjitteranx

I didn’t sleep last night. It isn’t that I attempted to sleep but couldn’t bring myself to a restful state. I actually didn’t even crawl into bed. I had too much to do to get ready for a work trip, and needed to be dressed like a grown-up and on a plane at 5:30 a.m. It wasn’t an ideal situation, but it needed to be managed because I like having a paycheck.

I hoped I could sleep for a couple hours on the plane, but I was wired. I had a middle seat and there was a hot, young guy seated next to me. I opted to chat with him, rather than risk passing out and drooling on him. We ended up talking through the whole flight. It was a fun conversation, but in hindsight, I probably should have just gone for the drool. I live in Denver, after all; hot, young guys are everywhere.

Now it is 12:14 p.m.  It has been 30 hours since I last slept.

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