Onesome:Desperate times-- Hmmm... The ever present time crunch. Do you have a story of a time when you needed to be somewhere and it just didn't look like it was going to work out? Did you make it? No??? What happened?
Brent and I were driving from my hometown to the "car suburb" to pick up his girlfriend/my best friend Diane. Then the three of us were to pick up my roommate Mike from the airport in the big city. Brent and I left at probably 8 PM, heading north on the river road. We had a map, but neither of us had ever driven anywhere close to that area before, nor had either of us ever driven in a large city. As we got close to the metro area and were about to get on the interstate, and traffic was getting heavy, Brent was driving. I said, "Get on the interstate." He said, "OK, East or West?" I said, "I...don't...know." We just froze (although the car was still moving). Utter silence, followed by complete pandemonium. I was nearly hyperventilating while he was shrieking, "EASTORWEST?! EASTORWEST?!" If he hadn't been piloting the craft, I'd have slapped him to snap him out of it. Instead, I did the only thing I could do--I yelled, as loudly as I could, "JUST FUCKING PICK ONE." So he did. And he chose correctly, as we cruised right up to the car suburb, found Diane's parents' apartment with no trouble, collected her, wandered around for a while, went to the airport in time to meet Mike's 5 AM flight (and let me tell you, driving across the metro area at 4-something in the morning is drastically preferable to doing it on a Friday or Saturday evening). The 3 of us walked through the enormous--but almost completely void of people--airport until his plane from Las Vegas landed. (Mike had driven to Arizona with a friend who'd left for college at ASU, then continued to Vegas, stayed for a week, and flown back.) He stepped, or rather lurched, through the door wearing a camp shirt buttoned once, baggy shorts, flip flops, and clutching a beer pitcher from the airport bar in Vegas. He was annihilated, drunk off his ass. And he'd been reading motivational books while on his vacation, so all the way back to our town he would half-pass out, then snort himself awake and say, "You know, Harriet Beecher Stowe said it best when she said...." And then pass out again.
That was a surreal but excellent day. I was awake for 2 1/2 days straight and enjoyed almost every minute--apart from the 'EAST OR WEST?!' issue, which still makes my heart beat a little faster.
Twosome: lead to-- What leads you to write at your place? What strikes your fancy and leads you to your keyboard to share it with the blogosphere?
The urge to write comes on strong and frequently. I resist more often than I capitulate. Lots of times I'll just make a draft post or notes in my written journal and save ideas until they've had time to percolate.
I definitely write more while I'm at work than I do from home though. Curious.
Threesome: disparate measures-- Hey, what is it you do that's really different from your friends or family or acquaintances that drives them to distraction? Is it something as simple as the way you put the toilet paper roll on? ...or maybe your habit of eating all your vegetables first? Come on, you know there's a little something it's safe to share with the gang!
My mom would love to cure me of the habit of drumming on things around the house. It's a habit of my dad's that I picked up a long time ago that drives her bananas. I think that T would be happy to influence my wardrobe selections more strongly. Any number of people at work would be gratified if I would get out of the Uncle Kracker/Puddle of Mudd/Limp Bizkit/Papa Roach mode. I don't exactly get complaints about it, but I'm sure that my coworkers (particularly the nearest one) would be pleased if more effort went into making my penmanship comprehensible. There have been suggestions of "no more photographing under the influence," too.
Bottom line, though, I'm at a point where I see a lot more flaws than anyone else is emphasizing. It's not such a bad thing to be reminded that other people think gently, or at least neutrally, of me.
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