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My so-called best friend has gotten back on Facebook and has basically abandoned me. I lose best friends and boyfriends to three things: (1) the Internet (or Facebook, specifically), (2) the Catholic Church (a couple have joined the priesthood, although there's nothing at all wrong with that and I'm 100% for it), and (3) the U.S. Air Force (again, there's nothing wrong with it).
I was also thinking about how the month of February looks like a perfect rectangle this year. There are no odd pieces sticking out. Makes the perfectionist in me smile and be happy.
Argh, the Patriots won the Super Bowl. I forgot all about the big game until people from work came in and started asking each other whether they had watched the game. From overhearing conversations, I gathered that the Patriots had won, and most people at my workplace weren't too happy about it. The Patriots win all the time. I am personally sick of hearing about them and wish the Seahawks could have won because I never hear much about them. I always root for the underdog. If they haven't won in a while, they are due for a win soon.
So I heard that there is a measles outbreak. I wonder how much of this is attributed to people being afraid to vaccinate their kids because of autism or because of immigrants coming into the country who haven't been vaccinated. People, please! An autistic kid is better than a kid who dies from the measles (or any other disease). The more kids are vaccinated, the more we will have that "herd immunity" to prevent the next generation from ever getting sick. People believe in a lot of silly things nowadays, but they need to believe that vaccines really do work!
I keep having the urge to write song parodies, which is something I haven't done in earnest since high school.
On a totally different note, I am trying to determine whether my loneliness stems from hormones or from actually wanting to be around people. I'm getting very weepy these days, and it mostly has to do with missing people and getting melancholy that I will never see them again. These are dead people I'm talking about, so I guess I'll see them if I get to heaven, if they're there also. I have no clue, so I'll be good.
There were a bunch of books sitting out on a table in the break room at work. They all appeared to have been written by black authors (I can't say African American because I'm not sure that they were all American or all had origins in Africa). So I picked up a book of poetry by Rita Dove. Never read anything by her before (that I know of), so we'll see if this is interesting. I haven't read poetry in ages, let alone written any. I used to be so poetic, but only during times when I was in love.
Yesterday, the Internet died just before I was about to post my 100 words. While the web page stalled, I quickly copied my entry over to Notepad for safekeeping, so the entire thing would not be erased. Then I got the little dinosaur showing up on my Chrome telling me that I had no Internet.
OK, my life is really boring when I have been reduced to posting in 100 Words about how I posted (or almost didn't get to post) my 100 words. But I don't mind. At least a boring life is comfortable. No chaos equals much peace.
God is worth so much more, infinitely more, than my greatest weakness. Yet I keep clinging to my greatest weakness, in hopes that it will be an easier way that will somehow yield the same reward as following God. I know intellectually that this is not the case; however, the emotional sentimental mushy-gushy part of me still wants to believe that it's true. Blessed are those who do not see, yet still believe. I have not seen God himself, but I have witnessed his goodness and his power and the work he has done in mine and others' lives.
I want search engines to be my friends again (although not on this site). I turned off search engines on my blog and my pageviews went down to almost nothing. I don't think pageviews are always an accurate representation of how much your posts get read. A bunch of my readers read posts on their email, so I'm not sure if that counts as a pageview since they didn't actually go to my blog. Either way, they read the post, so it counts for something, right? And if they read the post on the blog reader, does that not count?
My shoulder hurts. I think I pulled a muscle when I was trying to exercise and it hasn't felt normal since. You know, I would go and work out on the machines at the gym at work (this is a serious case of first-world problems, so bear with me), but I do not want to get to work any earlier to work out and I don't want to stay any later because my commute is so long and I live far away from work. I could be walking uphill both ways and I could be without a job, though.
Having a hard time getting to a place where I feel like I can write. I always have to goof off on the Internet for a few moments before I get "in the zone" and it only works if I have coffee. Oddly enough, I can only concentrate if I haven't eaten recently because my mind is sharper when I'm hungry. It's so conditional. Most of the time, I can concentrate just fine, but after work, it's like forget about it. Six in the evening and I just want to sleep until the next day. Something is wrong with me.
Poems are such funny things. I don't know if I said this before on here, and I probably have, but I only write poems when I'm in love or having some kind of hormonal moment. But what is love? (Baby, don't hurt me...) Seriously, what is it? I can't differentiate between love and just feeling "horny." I think love is when you suddenly are overcome with affection for a person and you turn to them and say, without warning, "You know what, I really love you." I get that quite often, and I'm pretty sure it's not just hormones talking.
I'm slowly but surely retagging every single post I've ever written. That's a lot of posts, and it will most likely take six months or more if I go at the snail's pace that I've been going. But a little bit here and there is better than nothing. There is nothing at all like a sense of accomplishment, especially when you've done something that's taken forever or required a lot of work and effort. Ugh, now I feel like Captain Obvious. Seriously. If Captain Obvious was real, I would be his wife. We could be obvious together all day long.
The time I look forward to most is the time when I get up in the morning on Saturdays, when I can have a few quiet hours to write and not think about anything else besides the fictional world I have created in my head. Those are my happiest moments lately.
And then I had another thought: sex before marriage is like eating dessert before dinner. It's not good and spoils your appetite for the real thing. So many analogies on sex and love, and only a few are accurate. I doubt mine is one of the accurate ones.
Happy Valentine's Day! I don't have a valentine, but it doesn't matter that much because I'm loved anyway. Some people at work told me they love me, and it's weird because that's not the most "open up and be affectionate to your coworkers" kind of job. Oh, well. I guess it was the spirit of the Valentine's season. I have five furry Valentines at home, so I can cuddle them. And I have family and a couple of good friends. That is really all I need. And my Sunday school kids. I love them to pieces. That's it for today.
I'm at a stage in my writing where I can't show what I'm doing to anyone. It's just an outline, and when I think about it, I wouldn't care to see any of my favorite writers' outlines or deleted scenes or anything that got them closer to the final product of their story. I think all of those things are private and personal. Yeah, it's fine to talk about those things and how you arrived at the final product, but don't actually show them. They're part of the mystery, the intrigue of creation. There is no reason to share them.
It's the Snowpocalypse again, and I have nothing to think about but how glad I am to be working from home tomorrow (provided that the power doesn't go out). I can mutter out loud to myself without disturbing my officemate, I can scream at the top of my lungs if something outrageous happens, and I don't have to make the horrendously long commute where I inevitably get tailgated by some guy in a truck who thinks he's got somewhere to be. I know, I know, I'm complaining again, but what is the Internet for except complaints on a grand scale?
Well, the "snow" was underwhelming and mostly ice or sleet or freezing rain. I have not been outside at all, so I do not know what it's like, and I'm hoping that they don't close work again because my neck hurts from sitting at my uncomfortable desk at home (well, it's uncomfortable to sit at for 8 hours a day, nonstop). There is no such thing as a true snow day when you have a job that allows you to work from home (unless the power goes out, but that's another story. How frustrating if you were on a deadline).
I figured out what I'm going to do for Lent. Recite the Divine Mercy Chaplet. The terrible part of why I'm doing that is because it's shorter than the rosary, and I often don't have enough time for the rosary. The good part of why I'm doing that is because I don't pray often enough and I lose patience with asking for the same thing over and over again... I know that you're supposed to pray unceasingly, but I am not sure whether half the things I'm praying for are worthy causes. I feel silly asking for things for myself.
It is the year of the sheep today, and it is so cold outside that I wish I had a sheepskin blanket to sleep under.
There is such a thing as professional cuddling, and there is also such a thing as an invisible boyfriend (or girlfriend, if you like girls). I think that is pitiful that people don't want to get a real relationship or are too busy with work to get a real relationship, so they find a cheap facsimile of love that will not get them anywhere. This is a pretty sad world in which we live.
I love news stories about cars that crash into buildings. That sounds horrible, but I mean "love" in a sarcastic sense. (Hard to tell over the Internet, right? They really do need a sarcasm font.) Makes me wonder what was wrong with the person and why they crashed into the building, because the news stories never really give the reason. If it's a certain time of night, you can assume the person was drunk. If the person was older than, say, 70, you can assume that they were under the influence of medication or couldn't see well in the dark.
The temperatures will crawl above freezing today, but it's going to rain. I can't wait until spring and warm temperatures and humidity. The dry air of winter hurts my nose and causes all my blood vessels to break, which is not a pretty sight. OK, there I go again complaining. There are good things about winter. I enjoy the sight of snow, the brilliance of sun reflecting off it, drinking warm drinks while curled up with a book (or furry animal). Christmas and Lent. Getting time off work. Slower times at work. There's actually a lot to love about winter.
You know how a lot of writers wrote while they were under the influence of alcohol or drugs? Also, a lot of writers write when they're smoking or drinking coffee. I'm one of the latter. I write best when I have been slightly caffeinated. I wonder why that is. Maybe we do need something to kick our minds into inspiration. I know that I can write without coffee, but I always get better ideas when my brain gets a boost. If I was drunk or high, I could probably write even better things... after they've been edited twice as much.
There's a picture on the CNN main page of a little girl getting a vaccine and screaming. Three or four people are holding her down. I would hate to be a pediatrician solely for that reason. I imagine that the doctor would be a hated figure for many children, at least until they're old enough to understand that the doctor doesn't intentionally inflict pain upon the child. When I was a kid, I hated doctors and was convinced that doctors hated me. I carry the dislike of doctors into my life now, but it's much less severe than it was.
It's Snowpocalypse Part II where I live, and it took me 2 hours to get home today, mostly because everyone was going super slow on the interstate because there was a lot of ice. I think they probably cleared the roadways now (or at least, they should have). Even so, I don't want to drive to work tomorrow. I'd rather work from my nice cozy house. Then I have two days off, but my appointments will most likely be canceled on account of the snow. That's a topic in itself: whether canceled should be spelled with one L or two.
I am really bad at console games. I guess I don't have the hand-eye coordination for it, and I can't figure out the split screen, especially when it's split among more than two players. I know that was a random topic, but this is my outlet for random stuff, so here's another random thing: songs that get stuck in your head. What is it about the song? The infectious melody or the rhyming, sing-song lyrics? What causes some songs to get stuck and some songs to be forgotten and only brought up once they've become an Internet meme?
If you want to feel small and insignificant, look at a picture of the universe. Look at the cosmos and the nebulas and comets and galaxies. Today (or sometime this week), scientists in China discovered a black hole that's many, many times larger than the sun and 900 billion years old. That is so big and so old that it's terrifying. What is out there? What, if anything, lives in those distant galaxies. What kinds of things has that black hole devoured over its long life? How many years will earth continue before it gets sucked into a black hole?
I hate looking back through old journal entries from 2007 and 2008 (on here and on the tons of sheets of paper in my bedroom). I'm ashamed of how I was back then, and I think I have begun to make amends for all the stupid things I did. It's funny... I used to think that I was so much better, so much holier-than-thou, so much more pure than the other girls my age, but I really wasn't. I was no better, no worse. We're equally depraved. It's taken a lot of wake-up slaps to realize it.
Well, I had my entry written, but I think I must have forgotten to choose the date before clicking submit. Ironically (or coincidentally), I was writing about drafts. Does Gmail save all of the draft emails to the cloud? What if all those embarrassing drafts somehow were revealed? What if the server failed? I think about things like that all the time. Like when you accidentally hit "reply all" on an email at work, and suddenly everyone at work knows about your private conflict with your boss or a coworker.
In other news, NaNoWriMo starts on Sunday this year.
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