Twisting and Turning

Somebody said to me today: 'You always land on your feet.' And I was so shocked by this that I tripped over the misperception and fell face first into a rose bush. No, that's not even remotely true. Start over. Somebody said to me today: 'You always land on your feet.' And it caught me for a moment. What does that mean? And no, it wasn't meant in the literal sense. Smartass. But where do people get this idea from? For it's not the first time I've heard it... I can see two possibilities. One, the world is very accommodating of me and allows me to stumble through, blind, yet happy. And the other is that I'm very good at pretending to be blind and happy.

Now which of those is more worrying?

Band Together

So there I was, washing my hands in the tea room at work, when I caught a finger on my right hand in the rubber bands on my left wrist. And in that moment I had the sudden vivid memory of having broken those rubber bands last night, pulling on them ‘til they snapped. Something that didn’t particularly jive with the two rubber bands still encircling my wrist. All of this, when viewed together, means that last night I had a very lucid dream about breaking the rubber bands that I wear as bracelets. Great. So now I’m dreaming about certain accoutrements that I still don’t even know why I wear. Because I feel naked without them. Fine. It’s true, but it doesn’t answer the original question. Because they’re lucky. Because they hold a personal significance, of which the particulars are insignificant. Because they remind me not to forget to remember... something.

Because in this life, you never know when you just might desperately need a rubber band.

To the Victor Go the Spoils

In my book, any night in which the lead singer of a band says he wants to be you, and then asks why you and a friend aren’t sword fighting in front of the stage like you did for the last band, is a good night. It was a good night. Add to that moving into an absolutely gorgeous new house, talking of starting a band, taking up membership with the local swimming pool, visiting the grandparents and finding them vastly improved from a few weeks ago, and watching my hockey team, between 2 and 5 in the morning before work, win in quadruple overtime to advance to the next round of the playoffs, and I’d say it’s been a pretty good weekend. The shite bits of life are being consigned to the midden heap, and we’re looking forward to a glorious summer.

I’d call that dice.

Tanning in the Work Environment

What luck! To be sat beneath one of two skylights in the office, so that at precisely 12:24 of an afternoon, a heavenly luminescence spills over the lip of the transom and flows gently down onto my workdesk. And to think some invariably close the shades when the sun's in their face! Now granted, the glare does reduce my visibility to nil and a bit, meaning the only work I feel competent to do is write this. But nevertheless, I savour this half hour. A chance to lean back in my lounge chair, put the sun block on, strip down to board shorts and flip flops, and bring summertime right on into the office.

These walls can't hold me.