Здравствуйте! Как поживаешь? Рада тебя видеть.
¡Hola! Buenos días, buenas tardes, buenas noches and hello!
I am on a high right now. I don’t fully know why, but working with people (even when I’m being misanthropic) gives me immense satisfaction. I’m very cheery. I’m so pleasant, it’s ad nauseum. I could tell myself off right now. (Shiny, happy people… *grumble*) Haha! No, first day at work. I feel normal again. I rather enjoyed myself, and I like the people I work with (at least so far). I’ve been warned not to call people “Darlin'” or “Hon” unless I want angry bikers and nasty hobos trying to get into my pants (they’re by Dickies, and so comfortable. But they’re mine– stay out!) What I find even more interesting, is that everyone else in my house is as crabby as ever today. How unusual… My Mom was quite terse with everyone, and my poor sister has the flu. I wish I could spread my joy. (I know… barf, right?) The only bad (well, not bad… uncomfortable) part of my day was these acrylic french tips I have on. My Mom, in her expansive intent to be kind, talked me into getting a manicure with french tips. So my nails look fabulous… however I discovered shortly thereafter that they are a flawed design. My stuff is still packed, in boxes that are stacked up to my ceiling. How do I unpack without ruining my blatant display of vanity? I’m going to either wreck them or they are going to wreck me. I see it coming. I can tell you this: I have truly realized how much I rely on (and miss) full use of my hands. Today, I opened a can of diet pepsi with my teeth. Yesterday, my sister had to unbuckle my seatbelt 3 times. I hate being this high maintenance. I’m just a simpleton. Honestly. I swear.
I’m coming to terms with the fact that for the most part, I am a dull, totally average person. You know what? I’m not this particularly interesting person in the universe (jai guru deva om)… and I like it that way. It dawned on me today that is one of the many reasons I love the city. You open your eyes and it’s a constant flood of visual information. For me, travelling through the city wasn’t just a trip. Sometimes I would go the long way on purpose just to see what was there to be seen. All of this I find tragically confusing, because for someone with a 146 IQ, I’m extremely silly, in an almost childlike way. I love being silly… it’s the wind in my sails, so to speak. Fret not– knowledge is not how much you know… it’s how you know it.
Sometimes I don’t know how I can be so completely different than that at the same time. I used to want to be a lawyer. I took prelaw, and I loved it. But again, I think a lot. I’m starting to believe that my divergent thinking is becoming a self-destruct button. I became caught up in this trap of worrying that my ethical and moral foundation would forever prevent me from doing my job as a lawyer, and if it didn’t, was that really the person I wanted to turn into? Could I live with myself, fighting to free a guilty person, or fighting to condemn an innocent one? Could I live with the possible ambiguity of never knowing what the real truth is? Do I want to allow myself to be so judgemental, and manipulative of the truth? So I digressed into tangents of unrelated thought and never once revisited my momentary dreams of law school. To thine own self, be true.
Someone needs to sit me down in front of many rorschach inkblots and dissect my brain.
I live inside a melody and love inside the lyrics.
I lay within notes and arias (contatas and oratorios)
Inside a song I’m free-
within the chords and bars I find myself (flats and sharps and stocatta)
In song I am entirely me.
My life has been in a state of entropy for so long (negentropy, in fact) that I’m enjoying the idea of ectropy for a change, and in turn recognizing extropy! I love words. They are in themselves an unending cycle of ekphrasis.
नमस्ते! ऊँ शान्ति! آزادی ! Salaam! ♥ Kassi