I have always loved a good Friday. It is full of the promise of the weekend to come. It shines like a diamond at the end of the week. Or perhaps more appropriately, the portal to another world of fun and freedom. That is weird for me because, I do not work the typical work week of 9 to 5 or 7 or 9 depending which slave ship you serve. Still the beacon of the weekend is my favourite time. Not that I do not cherish Saturday. I do.
I suppose if I am going to linger in the world of analogy, Friday is the foreplay and Saturay is the the down and dirty intercourse of the weekend. Again a little odd, given my own preferences. Maybe (given that analogy) I love Friday because, I know that Saturday is definitely going to arrive! and Wahooo!
Which makes Saturday night the orgasm. Stands to reason I suppose and would account for the sweet meloncholy of Sunday.
Sunday is the afterplay, the afterglow if you will...the time for pillow talk and tenderness.
At any rate I digress. I love Friday and I really seem to love Fridays in the fall. Perhaps because it is a little cripser and cooler and reminds me of school days- when Friday meant freedom and no homework.
The sex thing had not worked its way into my world at that point, but had it, I am sure the analogy would have still been valid.
Friday is the night for a quiet smoke, a glass of wine and a bon fire. It is the time for an walk in the dark. A night for an adventure. It can be mysterious and dangerous. Or the start of something amazing that will carry on through the entire weekend, only to be interupted by that most heinous of weekdays, Monday. (Except holiday Mondays! they are a special thrill- a stolen moment).
So this is Friday. I will do all those happy Friday things, work out hard, clean the house (my pre-sex shower I suppose) and curl up by a fireplace to watch my favourite shows on the giant TV.
It is funny to me that originally Xfiles was on Friday night. I was a huge fan and it just made my Friday all the more fabulous. I was somewhat bummed when they moved it to Sunday nights...but it let me have a reason to look forward to Sunday night.
Now my fav. shows are back on Friday night and the universe turns as it should. Or maybe, just maybe I will venture outside my four safe walls and find an adventure to still my soul. I might just find some mischief to get into and out of my Monday morning.
So I will slip into my mental friday lingerie and start this day with all the anticipation it deserves.
Who knows because it is Friday and you just never can tell.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
the brain at night
Some times my late night brain kicks on. This is one of those kind of nights. It was a big day. Ryn's scores a new gig, just like she said she would. Of course she did because she can do anything she sets her mind to.
I am hoping to do a whole new type of writing that will just add to my own professional tool kit.
Then I watched a documentary on volcanoes and heard once again how Jellystone is going to blow its super volcano mind any day now and I wonder, what are we all doing anyway?
But you can't think like that.
It seems to me that we are now more capable than ever of seeing our species own doom. We predict it, as we have been doing for centuries with scientific pinpoint accuracy of sometime between the next 100 thousand years and Thursday of next week. Well the Mayans did better than that thousands of years ago. At least they had the balls to give a specific date. Nostradamus stuck his thoughts in rhyming couplets. I guess everybody has to have a schtick. Now if I were any sort of prophet, I would write in limericks:
The answer is in the sky
it gets clearer as time goes by.
Impossible to avoid
we'll be hit by a 'roid.
So kiss your ass goodbye.
See prophecy made fun!
When I get all freaked out like this I think- Are the ants upset? Hell no. They will just go on being ants until the big fire swallows them up. So I guess I should like from the insect world.
This is what happens when my brain stays up passed its bedtime.
I am hoping to do a whole new type of writing that will just add to my own professional tool kit.
Then I watched a documentary on volcanoes and heard once again how Jellystone is going to blow its super volcano mind any day now and I wonder, what are we all doing anyway?
But you can't think like that.
It seems to me that we are now more capable than ever of seeing our species own doom. We predict it, as we have been doing for centuries with scientific pinpoint accuracy of sometime between the next 100 thousand years and Thursday of next week. Well the Mayans did better than that thousands of years ago. At least they had the balls to give a specific date. Nostradamus stuck his thoughts in rhyming couplets. I guess everybody has to have a schtick. Now if I were any sort of prophet, I would write in limericks:
The answer is in the sky
it gets clearer as time goes by.
Impossible to avoid
we'll be hit by a 'roid.
So kiss your ass goodbye.
See prophecy made fun!
When I get all freaked out like this I think- Are the ants upset? Hell no. They will just go on being ants until the big fire swallows them up. So I guess I should like from the insect world.
This is what happens when my brain stays up passed its bedtime.
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Wednesday
Wednesday should feel better, if not only because it is hump day, then because at least Monday and Tuesday are done and dusted. This week Wednesday just feels like I am reaching Everest base camp. Maybe it should be called whinging Wednesday.
Reasons to complain:
- My heart is in the Grand Canyon and my ass is in Ontario.
- It is getting colder.
- That's about it really.
So do I have any reason to complain to probably not, but it is the North American way. We complain because we are not earning enough money, or we do not have a big enough house, or all the toys we want or are asses are too big because we eat too much.
I am reading a fantastic book by Jon Turk called "the Raven's Gift". In it he writes about the life of tribes that live on the Siberian Plain. They have little in the way of material wealth. In fact they have had all their natural wealth (raindeer herds) stripped away from them in exchange for vodka.
The folk that can avoid alcoholism are, by western standards dirt poor, and yet when a stranger comes to them, they share what meager food and supplies they have joyfully. They live simply and do not talk about what they don't have.
Perhaps that is the idealism of the Western world- we want to make enought money to be able to go for a walk with our dogs. And that is what the tribesmen and women of Siberia do daily. Walk with their dogs to hunt and range and survive.
So it goes.
I hope I don't have to move to Siberia to be less grumpy and more grateful.
Time for a reality check. Yep I still have two legs and I can go to the bathroom by myself.
I guess life is better than I thought.
Reasons to complain:
- My heart is in the Grand Canyon and my ass is in Ontario.
- It is getting colder.
- That's about it really.
So do I have any reason to complain to probably not, but it is the North American way. We complain because we are not earning enough money, or we do not have a big enough house, or all the toys we want or are asses are too big because we eat too much.
I am reading a fantastic book by Jon Turk called "the Raven's Gift". In it he writes about the life of tribes that live on the Siberian Plain. They have little in the way of material wealth. In fact they have had all their natural wealth (raindeer herds) stripped away from them in exchange for vodka.
The folk that can avoid alcoholism are, by western standards dirt poor, and yet when a stranger comes to them, they share what meager food and supplies they have joyfully. They live simply and do not talk about what they don't have.
Perhaps that is the idealism of the Western world- we want to make enought money to be able to go for a walk with our dogs. And that is what the tribesmen and women of Siberia do daily. Walk with their dogs to hunt and range and survive.
So it goes.
I hope I don't have to move to Siberia to be less grumpy and more grateful.
Time for a reality check. Yep I still have two legs and I can go to the bathroom by myself.
I guess life is better than I thought.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
How Shae-c's it
I am bummed. It is fall already and I am wondering where the hell the summer went. Not that I don't love fall, I do. I just don't love winter all that much. It is not the season itself. I am aseasonal but, it is the cold and ice and snow. If I could have winter with out that, I am sure I would enoy it.
But I live in Canada and the chances of that happening are slim to none.
The thing is, I love a hot summer day. I love the way it feels, the way it smells. I love the look of it. Folks who whinge about the heat in the summer earn nothing but my contempt, because you know it will be the same whiny loogans that will bitch about the cold. So shut up! Remember how incredibly beautiful and hot it was in August because in February it is going to be cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Now that you can whine about... it is a whineable opportunity.
Regardless of my feelings, fall marches on.
Fall is like a beautiful heartless woman... Stunning and getting cooler by the minute.
I can only watch and admire her, grudgingly enjoying her progress and knowing she will loose her fleeting beauty and end up like all of us old, wrinkled and covered in snow.
But I live in Canada and the chances of that happening are slim to none.
The thing is, I love a hot summer day. I love the way it feels, the way it smells. I love the look of it. Folks who whinge about the heat in the summer earn nothing but my contempt, because you know it will be the same whiny loogans that will bitch about the cold. So shut up! Remember how incredibly beautiful and hot it was in August because in February it is going to be cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey. Now that you can whine about... it is a whineable opportunity.
Regardless of my feelings, fall marches on.
Fall is like a beautiful heartless woman... Stunning and getting cooler by the minute.
I can only watch and admire her, grudgingly enjoying her progress and knowing she will loose her fleeting beauty and end up like all of us old, wrinkled and covered in snow.
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