Ho-hum

I really try to avoid the mundane when posting here. Which is kinda tough, because so much of what goes on in one's life (anyone's really, just ask them) is pretty mundane. And nobody really likes to hear or read about the boring stupid shit. Nope, we want the REAL stuff. I read an editorial today that kind of summed it up well:

"Today our national narrative follows this big dramatic arc. Gossip reporting relies on it unfailinigly. It can never be that a Hollywood couple woke up one morning, like normal people, and decided they could no longer bear to hear one another chew. It must be that he was tortured by the success of her career, that she has been rocking the trailer on location with her leading man. It cannot be that they are just like us...

Of course, the more humdrum aspects of life do not make for gripping reading. To render them compelling, a writer must describe the universal in eloquent and evocative prose."*

I understand this notion completely. Hell, I once considerd myself a reasonably capable stage director. You know- live theatre. That wonderful, once vibrant art form that entertained the nobilty and the masses equally for thousands (yes THOUSANDS) of years. That art form which has unfortunately succumbed to the banality and idiocy of Hollywood, fallen victim to the "reality" cult and been crushed under the jackboot of coroporate capitalism and mass market media...

Excuse me, but that's a story/rant for another day.

What I'm trying to say is, if I learned one thing after all those years of "formal" education and training, followed by years of coaxing life out of the written word, it's the simple fact that REAL LIFE is fucking boring. And the only way to make it interesting to anyone other than yourself, is to add a little spice, a little flavor in order to get the juices flowing. Like one of those teeny-tiny, innocent looking red peppers that comes in your Mongolian beef. You know, the one that you bite into thinking, this little bitty pepper is kinda cute, I wonder what he tastes like......

HOLYFUCKINGCHRIST,
WHATISTHISRAGINGFIREINMYMOUTH!!!!!
PUTITOUTITOUT,PUTITIOUT,PITIOUT!!!!!

You know the ones I'm talking about.

Anyway, I try to keep the dull down to a minimum. But sometimes the dull just gets a little overpowering.

So at the end of a fairly light week (45 hours) at the Ranch, I get home from an all-day training convocation last night and am pretty much wiped out, I guess. I mean, I must have been, because after sorting throught the mail and chowing down on some reasonable Italian take-out, I realize that I'm nodding off on the couch, watching bad stand-up on Comedy Central. At NINE o'clock in the evening!

OK, this is cool, I think remotely. I had that demand package I wanted to work on this weekend sitting on my desk. I'll just get up early and crank some stuff out.

So I force myself to stay up for a couple more hours and eventually get to bed early for once. I awoke to the alarm, but allowed myself an extra hour to snooze, just for weekend's sake. Then proceeded to give the domicile a good cleaning. Mind you, I did not say a thorough cleaning (it's not Spring Cleaning time quite yet), but a good one. And admittedly, it needed it.

Next, I jet up to the local merchant sector known pragmatically as The Yoke to complete some transactions, pick up a few goods and utilize some services, then I'm back to the hideout where I put the final touches on an client abstract. Not the big one which I've been putting off for the past three weeks and intended to hammer on this morning when I was nodding off last night, but at least I'm out of distractions. I have to do the demand now.

So now that I've accomplished a good deal of what I intended for the day, I'm at a bit of a loss. I just spoke with FC, and she's apparently got a nasty case of food poisoning. Been throwing up since 10:00 last night, so I guess we're not going to get together as previously planned.

OK...

I'm going to see the boys tomorrow for football and poker, so they're all either with their respective FC's, working, or already cruising temporary FC's. And I don't feel like rolling as the 3rd-, 5th- or any other odd-numbered Wheel this evening. So where does that leave me?

Well, there's always the rest of that take-out in the fridge. I could warm that up and go back to work for a few more hours-rationalizing that I'm "preparing" myself for The Canons with all of this extra dedication and labor. Or I could crank up the X-box for some good ol' fraggin' fun!! Maybe I could read one of these five books I've set aside or purchased in the past month. There's always the new Netflix sitting on the idiot-box...

...


...


...(Sound FX: crickets)...


Boy, I'm really fucking lame.

Finally, there's always heading on out, "Lone Wolf style", as J-Catz the barman once called it, and seeing what kind of action I can find. While I am no stranger to this particular modus operendi, lately I've found that it's often more trouble then it's really worth. But hey, maybe I'll have one of those nights that makes for interesting reading on the blog, adds a little spice to get the ol' jucies flowing again, and thus elevate my out of this mundanity.

One thing's for sure: That leftover pasta is calling my name.


"Real Life, No Police Chases," by Anna Quindlen, Newsweek, Jan. 23, 2006