A Shattered Face To Hold The Door

I know that title might flash a scene where someone's face gets slammed into by a door...but even that picture was an afterthought for me. Simply...I use a shattered face to hold my bedroom door open. (It's a piece of a sculpture that was given to me as a gift and I use it as a door stop)

I slept at home last night and woke up to read a magazine. I don't read often so when I make a conscious effort to browse an article that has an eye-catching title it's almost as big a deal as the The Queen Mother passing gas in public.

It's nice to sit on my bed and be surrounded by the sound emanating from my speakers. Not having showered yet, sitting here like this is like bathing in sound waves and my body naturally starts to rhythmically move as each vibration can literally be felt on my skin. The tingles start. Little hairs start standing up as goosebumps form. My entire body becomes a gigantic nerve that excepts the musical stimuli and tears actually start to form in my eyes. I smile.

I need to make a more concerted effort to get back here regularly. It's Summer and I've been to the beach three times this year. What's wrong with me? Music, dancing, the beach & my friends.... I've let them all fall by the wayside with all of the time and effort I've been putting into work and my relationship. This is a familiar pattern. (As I type that I stare at the lights on the Winamp electronic oscillating frequency display. Beat. Beat. Beat...patterns) I should not make it sound as if my efforts are in vain. The allocation of time has all worked in my favor and now it's just a matter of balancing everything back out.

The article I read was in the the September issue of DETAILS magazine. Shia LaBeouf (who I love not for his acting but because his name has every vowel of the alphabet in it) is on the cover and apparently can't get laid. He was not my reason for reading. An article with the title, "Would You Marry A Porn Star? Meet Guys Who Did" caught my eye. One of the quotes that was blown up and printed in bold was, "Life with a XXX actress has its perks--hearing about her day isn't one of them." Even though it had a straight-focus, I figured the issues I deal with would be universal and after reading the article...They are. Usually people find comfort in relating that they are not alone and that there are other people out there dealing with the same things. I've never been comforted knowing that I'm like other people.

I find comfort right here--right now; in the brief dinner with Charlie last night and conversations of our colleagues; in the cuddles of J Squared; in the faces of babies giggling as they experience the world around them; in eating mountains of sugary ice cream; diving under a wave as its about to crash down on me and coming out the other side. I find a lot of comfort in sleeping.

I was going to go into work about noon today, but I really need the time away right now. I just spent the last hour reading different people's blogs--something else I never really do. I stopped when I came around to one that had a link back to my own journal and when I clicked on it I realized that my last entry was on the day before my promotion at work. In just under two months I've become the Assistant Manager of the place. I'm sensing all the things about work that I don't want to be dealing with as I start to form thoughts about what to write about it so I won't. I have one more month left of my evaluation period for the place before I make a stay or leave decision. I'm sticking to my initial 90 day commitment.

Time to cut the hair...