Oh my. Sara Evans is one of a handful of female vocalists whose voice can drive me straight into some Freudian ID-ish primal zone. Sarah McLachlan is another - she can hit certain notes that almost bring me to tears, like kicking open a door that holds so many memories long sheltered. And what’s with the Sara(h)s?
It’s been a while, Diary. I can call you Diary, right? I know the long defunct place that stole a couple of hundred bucks from me doesn’t exist anymore, but it’s just a noun. A person place or thing?
It is cold here in Maine. It feels more like February than December. The three snow falls so far have melted and refrozen so many times the landscape looks like wedding cake frosting decorated by a dog with the runs. And yet there is another nor’easter on the way. Miserable winter so far. Makes Costa Rica sound like a plan about this time every year.
I’m four weeks into the last term on the MBA. In fact I am just off the phone with my advisor. She worries about me because she sees everything online, and notices I don’t give a fuck about this degree. I have already decided I am not going back into project Management.
My AP Physics partner, JS is a computer engineer. He works and lives in Rhode island. The last conversation we had included him telling me project management is the worst career path - at fault and to blame for everything and not credited for anything. It is true to a certain degree - but if you go through life looking for accolades you are likely to be disappointed. I did the work I did at BIW for the challenge. The money was nice, but it wasn’t why I put up with that place for three years. It was because I was closing in on having that feeling again. That feeling of doing something that matters.
So after much brainstorming I re-arrived at the decision to dip my toe into the paralegal pond. The money is decent, and most of what I see in Maine requires some database experience. Plus I argue with the DAs on law and order every time I watch that show. The only drawback is having to dress for work every day. I figure Men’s Wearhouse can hook me up with ten identical gray suits lickety split. I already have forty silk ties.
I binge-watched “The 100” this weekend.
Man if this is what dystopia looks like, sign me up. It is on the CW - so 25 year old girls playing teenagers and showing plenty of cleavage is fine by me. I wish they had come up with a better name for Octavia.
Absolutely crappy writing. The drop ship arrives on earth. Octavia is first out the hatch. Lands with both feet and proclaims “We’re back, Biotches!”
Why not “Yo, yo, yo! We’re back biotches! Fer shiznit!”
Idiotic pop-culture crap is a pet peeve.
but.
At least I get to see sweaty 25 year old hot-chick cleavage!
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