A Little Something Sweet Fo' Dat Monday Mo'ning Ass...
The last two weeks have been annoyingly long. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I've only had two full days off and the rest of the time I'm trying to get people to host a foreign student or checking said students in/out of the dorms here on campus. It's been a long summer.
Nothing new is really happening. The free wireless didn't work out like I'd hoped. The signal must be from another building or something because the signal is shit +1. I've given up trying to connect.
The good news is that I'm almost unpacked. I helped Ahniwa move on Saturday, thereby using up my free day, but that morning I opened a TON of boxes and started to actually put stuff away. I haven't put up my dartboard yet but that's just a matter of time. The drawing table is up but I haven't taken advantage of that part yet. And more's the pity. But I will. And soon.
The g/f and I were having a conversation about God the other day and it led me to go off about the more modern religions being more like advertisements for God and Jesus than anything deep, spiritual and wrought with meaning. Replacing ritual with a frenzied mob mentality by removing a choir and introducing a rock band does modernize a church, but it takes away a lot of the substance.
The rant I was on ended up with me embarassing myself and wishing I hadn't started. But when I get tipsy I get very adamant about things.
Anyway, it somehow led to a story I thought I'd share with you guys. I had a paper route all through high school and on this paper route was a house that I hated to collect the money from each month. The man inside smelled like he never came out and each time he opened the door I could see stacks of newspapers going all the way up to the ceiling. He told me once that he was collecting them. One for each day since the 70s or something. At the time I kinda dismissed him as just a crazy old man.
Well, a few years later I found out he died and saw a recycling truck out in front of his house. They were hauling away all his papers. The man didn't have a job, he didn't have any family that he ever told me about (I knew he had never been married) and so the papers were really the only thing that seemed to tie him to the world. When I saw them taking away the newspapers I realized that I couldn't let myself go that far, ever, to where my only legacy would end up in the recycling. And though I do realize that there are some things in life that we cannot control (alzheimers being a huge-ass one) I've realized that the effect we have on other people is our legacy and after some careful thought, I understan that this gentleman had an effect on me. We can't control how other people see us, for the most part, but that 'footprint' really is all we leave.
Don't watch "Diary of a Mad Black Woman".
Do watch "The Clearing".
Nothing new is really happening. The free wireless didn't work out like I'd hoped. The signal must be from another building or something because the signal is shit +1. I've given up trying to connect.
The good news is that I'm almost unpacked. I helped Ahniwa move on Saturday, thereby using up my free day, but that morning I opened a TON of boxes and started to actually put stuff away. I haven't put up my dartboard yet but that's just a matter of time. The drawing table is up but I haven't taken advantage of that part yet. And more's the pity. But I will. And soon.
The g/f and I were having a conversation about God the other day and it led me to go off about the more modern religions being more like advertisements for God and Jesus than anything deep, spiritual and wrought with meaning. Replacing ritual with a frenzied mob mentality by removing a choir and introducing a rock band does modernize a church, but it takes away a lot of the substance.
The rant I was on ended up with me embarassing myself and wishing I hadn't started. But when I get tipsy I get very adamant about things.
Anyway, it somehow led to a story I thought I'd share with you guys. I had a paper route all through high school and on this paper route was a house that I hated to collect the money from each month. The man inside smelled like he never came out and each time he opened the door I could see stacks of newspapers going all the way up to the ceiling. He told me once that he was collecting them. One for each day since the 70s or something. At the time I kinda dismissed him as just a crazy old man.
Well, a few years later I found out he died and saw a recycling truck out in front of his house. They were hauling away all his papers. The man didn't have a job, he didn't have any family that he ever told me about (I knew he had never been married) and so the papers were really the only thing that seemed to tie him to the world. When I saw them taking away the newspapers I realized that I couldn't let myself go that far, ever, to where my only legacy would end up in the recycling. And though I do realize that there are some things in life that we cannot control (alzheimers being a huge-ass one) I've realized that the effect we have on other people is our legacy and after some careful thought, I understan that this gentleman had an effect on me. We can't control how other people see us, for the most part, but that 'footprint' really is all we leave.
Don't watch "Diary of a Mad Black Woman".
Do watch "The Clearing".
