Hola! Greetings from the Writing Center!
Yep, I'm updating my blog at work. And I learned in my law class that if you work for the government--which technically, I do--then any non-confidential material on your computer's hard drive, including emails, could potentially be published in a newspaper/another form of media.
So, note to any editors out there... I'm cool if you're cool. I trust you not to out me to the whole world. And even if you do, I'm looking forward to increased readership.
Anyway, my life:
I dropped the boyfriend off at the airport last night. So I will have the entire weekend to do as I please--without distractions. And I'll need it. I have to do this huge 10-page paper for Thursday and I've been complaining about it more than I've been working on it. But that's me.
HOWEVER
The weather is so GLORIOUS outside that I'm not sure I'm going to be able to deny the seductive call of the swimming pool. Decisions decisions.
GAR!
Friday, March 6, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Flipping out or flipping off.
So I've been sitting on this idea for awhile. I've been thinking about starting a blog for all of you voyeurs out there--which might include only me.
I've also been sitting on this idea of what to write about for my very first blog. And then it hit me.
I happen to have the worst road rage--when I'm alone.
I hit my steering wheel with a large amount of force when people go too slow in the fast lane. I scream when people don't get over when someone is speeding up behind them. I pull my hair out watching two semis pass each other.
It gets kind of ridiculous.
This last time I drove down from Phoenix, I was going through the usual hair-pulling, teeth-gnashing bit. Lets just say, it was getting pretty biblical. And apparently I was screaming really loudly or gesturing a little too wildly because when this car moved over to let me pass, the strangest thing happened. I looked out my passenger side window to give the perfunctory "you obnoxious fool" scowl, and the guy was leaning out his window giving me... the peace sign?
That's when I started rationalizing to myself. I was totally within my right to be angry. the stupid slow Tahoe was going approximately twelve miles UNDER the speed limit in the fast lane--just an estimate. Just because he was going the speed he thought everyone ought to, doesn't mean he is suddenly the I-10 speed monitor, right??
And then I became unbelievably sad. Because all that lost hair and high blood pressure, well, that was really all for naught.
So, maybe next time I pull up behind the world's slowest mini-cooper in the fast lane, I might not honk six times. I might only honk three times. What say you, peace-sign giving Tahoe man?
I've also been sitting on this idea of what to write about for my very first blog. And then it hit me.
I happen to have the worst road rage--when I'm alone.
I hit my steering wheel with a large amount of force when people go too slow in the fast lane. I scream when people don't get over when someone is speeding up behind them. I pull my hair out watching two semis pass each other.
It gets kind of ridiculous.
This last time I drove down from Phoenix, I was going through the usual hair-pulling, teeth-gnashing bit. Lets just say, it was getting pretty biblical. And apparently I was screaming really loudly or gesturing a little too wildly because when this car moved over to let me pass, the strangest thing happened. I looked out my passenger side window to give the perfunctory "you obnoxious fool" scowl, and the guy was leaning out his window giving me... the peace sign?
That's when I started rationalizing to myself. I was totally within my right to be angry. the stupid slow Tahoe was going approximately twelve miles UNDER the speed limit in the fast lane--just an estimate. Just because he was going the speed he thought everyone ought to, doesn't mean he is suddenly the I-10 speed monitor, right??
And then I became unbelievably sad. Because all that lost hair and high blood pressure, well, that was really all for naught.
So, maybe next time I pull up behind the world's slowest mini-cooper in the fast lane, I might not honk six times. I might only honk three times. What say you, peace-sign giving Tahoe man?
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