And in other news, I love this commercial:
Britt could be a preacher if she wanted to be. She preached a sermon about forgiveness yesterday that was very inspiring for a lot of people, including me. It inspired me to admit that there are things I refuse to forgive. And then my boyfriend left a comment on that post which clearly shows he is a better person than I am because he forgives.
Well, this girl right here clearly Sucks at Life™ because there are things in my past I choose not to forgive which I feel allow me to continue being who I am. And there will be things in my future I choose not to forgive which will shape me into the person I will become.
Forgiveness changes people. Unforgiveness molds people. I can forgive certain things, certain people. But there are incidents in my past that I’m not ever going to let the people involved have the satisfaction of my acceptance of what was done, because to do so would make it ok that it was done.
Never will be. Even when I am dust in the ground eternity will still permit that your transgressions are preserved in their foul, vile putrescence. Live with that.
And I will continue to live each day with my unforgiveness for all that I have done to others for which they cannot forgive me.
Fair is fair.
I have decided I am both a bad guest and a bad host.
I am a bad guest because I refuse to keep people informed of my departure and arrival times, I prefer to ransack your home being self sufficient rather than being taken care of, I leave dirty dishes everywhere, and show up late then leave early with no host appreciation or parting gift, and I do my best to piss you off so our goodbye goes faster. (I hate goodbyes. They’re acknowledgements of separation that is generally a fact of life anyway, so why acknowledge again that you won’t be in each other’s presence as you most of the time aren’t anyway? Meh.)
I am a bad host because I don’t like having anyone over to my home except: me, Dawg, Allie, Ripley, and Georgia. And the new kitty when we get him eventually.
Ps – Transformers was very entertaining to me but I’m pretty sure I have a sunburn on my neck from it…
Before Dawg and I moved in together I lived in a garage apartment with the kitties and no television. I used my work computer to watch Hulu, YouTube, and DVDs. Dawg and I would daydream about buying a TV when we lived together.
I moved to NYC with no TVs of my own and was graciously permitted to view the TV that sat in the entertainment center in the basement of Dawg’s parents’ home. We continued to daydream about buying a TV when we lived together.
A month later when Dawg and I moved into Fort Fourth Floor he didn’t own a TV either so we permanently borrowed the one that happened to reside in the basement of his parents’ home, at which time I finally noticed that the colors bled green in the upper left corner and if the set was left on for any length of time it would whine at a pitch that drove me slightly insane until several months later when I had finally deafened myself to it by listening to my iPod Touch too loudly too many times on the train. (ahhhhhhhhhh) We, surprisingly didn’t daydream about buying a TV now that we lived together… because there were other things to spend our money on.
And then it became ten months later and a momentous occasion to come: Dawg and Poppy’s birthday month approaches. We each schemed on our own what we would do for each other for our birthdays. Dawg quietly pondered and decided upon his gifts for me without need for discussion, but I spent many hours trying to debate with myself the merits of gifting him one of two items, both of which would require his input:
1. A no-longer-Windows-74 computer
. WIN in my eyes: this gift would only be for Dawg
. FAIL: he hates his birthday
. FAIL: Vista sucks
. futureWIN: but Windows 7 is coming!
. FAIL: but he has a lot of “custom software” that would be hard to move to the new machine
2. a television for us
. WIN: a present for both of us!
. WIN: we both get what we want!
. WIN: we both get to choose the features!
. WIN: we finally get that thing we’d daydreamed about together for so long!
. WIN: Dawg gets to stay home and supervise its arrival while men paid an hourly wage lug the damn thing up the stairs!
. WIN: dude, it’s a fucking TV, do I need to keep explaining its merits to you? C’MON!
Sooooooooooo, today after work I broke down and told him about My Debate with Myself and we decided together on the TV! On sale! From Best Buy! Delivered on Dawg’s birthday! Because his is first! But I’m not telling you when! But we all have one so you know it’s within a year’s time!
We both still have other tricks up our sleeves for each other’s birthdays but we are keeping those secret. :grins:
Had a rejuvenating evening with my boy and am feeling a lot better. Just in time for my monthly Tuesday-Wednesday with just me and the girls while Dawg goes off to learn Kumbaya a little bit more than the month before. (Thank you, Mom, for asking.)
The red line of DC Metro had a pretty bad accident Monday during the start of rush hour. I rode that line while I was there. The article also references a 1982 accident at the Woodley Park-Adams Morgan station, the starting point of the red line that B and I rode on. I feel all Final Destination all of a sudden. I’m not absolutely certain, but I’m guessing that NY Metro was assessing the situation in DC, which caused my ride home to have long delays for no apparent-to-us reason. I appreciate that, in retrospect. Always good to make sure not every Metro system is a target of something at the same time.
Aaaaaaaand, yes, I’m riding the NYC Metro (that’d be the subway) today. Go, me!
Here are some really great dads who mean a lot to me.
I got totally dorked out during a conference call WebEx with an AV vendor on Thursday. They were telling me how their product works to detect and stop zero-day threats and I almost lost my shit, I was so fucking stoked. We talked so long that we had to actually schedule another conference call for this morning because everyone on the call had to bail but me. I do have my certification in incident handling, so when I actually get to talk shop about how products work I get a little kid in a candy shoppish. I made everyone laugh several times with my thorough enjoyment of the product.
Dawg and I are seeing Def Leppard in July! I just scored us orchestra tickets. And by scoring I just mean I went to the website and paid for tickets. SCORE! He will be my wingman, much like I was Bella‘s wingman at NKOTB. I LOVE DEF LEPPARD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! POUR SOME SUGAR ON ME!!!!!!!!!! WOOHOOOOOOO!!!! yup.
It occurred to me on the way home Thursday that I bet my brother thinks I’m a big liar. He had asked me why I didn’t take up his offer to have a Guinness with him when I was in Vermont and my honest answer was that I don’t like to drink and drive, even if I’m driving hours later after I’m drinking. But then on the walk home my mind flashed to a photo of this huge-ass frozen margarita I had with him at The Ground Round in the spring of 2008. In fact I had two that day, and then went back to work. I have no defense for the inconsistency other than I’m human. I really don’t drink and drive.
That’s, like, the second time I’ve ever done that. The first time was back in college and if I’d been pulled over I would have ended up in jail. I was housesitting for a couple and had some tasty beverage that night, but they came home a day or two early, at night when I was in bed, and I had to get out of bed and get out of their house. I wasn’t in trouble with them or anything, they just were all done with their trip so they came home. But then I was stuck driving myself home while I definitely had the tunnel vision going. I wouldn’t recommend that to anyone ever. It’s no good. So, honestly, really, I try to make sure any alcohol is completely out of my system before driving — except that one defiant time I was hanging out with my brother at lunch. I was going through a very rebellious phase.
Wow, that all sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it? I’M A JACKASS.
I could really go for one of those beef corn tortillas I used to get in Vermont all the time. I bet a chili taco from the Chinese place would substitute nicely…
My mind would like to be on the F train riding and riding and riding to destination unimportant while I listen to dance music on my Touch and read magazines and books. I’d prefer to be sitting so I don’t have to worry about keeping my body upright or moving around as people enter or exit the train. I want no direct human interaction, but want the possibility of that interaction, the promise that it’s there if…when I need it.
Instead my mind is everywhere but there, and anywhere but here.