Another Schmaltzy Quizlet...

What Type of Parrot Are You?
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To Blow, Or Not to Blow!

Most of us work in an office, with a company, for somebody else, and with co-workers. It is only the valiant few who work from their homes and are blessedly exempt from the trauma of the confines of "The Office".

Working for a close relative in a small family-owned business, the stress of close quarters is amplified. No escape to the "break room", no seclusion in the "copy room", and no fleeing from the dimness that threatens to engulf me. If I were more "zen", I guess I would breathe for a bit, contemplate my navel and feel my frustration drift away into the ether like so much incense smoke. However, I am NOT "zen" and I am most definitely not even "Zen-like" at this particular juncture. In fact, you might say that I am anti-"zen", with a GMAT (MBA entrance exam) looming large tomorrow, Christmas menacing me from close range, Mom's b-day on Sunday, and the usual daily stresses giggling like evil imps under the toadstool.

Sooooooooo, what I do not need or want or even should have to tolerate, are the aimless shufflings and idiotic grins of my all male co-working staff as they revel in the absence of the boss - swilling coffee, cackling wildly at eachother's sexist jokes, absently answering the telephone only to relegate the proceedings to a dusty bin in the back recesses of their teeny, weeny little helpless brains. Meanwhile, I, the faithful servant (not even self-righteous at all), slave away in the warehouse (40 degrees cold) counting, answer inquiries that only a bacterium could not discover for himself, and attempt to maintain a semblance of normalcy until the whistle blows.

Now I have wasted my brief lunch period on you goobs... off again to the dungeon!

The Flash

Brains. Involved in the most mundane of daily routines, and the brain decides to have one of those eye-popping, breath-stopping epiphanies that bring you to your knees and make your heart feel as if it will burst. Life is illuminated by a cosmic light through which you can clearly see that all of the trappings of our material world are merely that - trappings. Preventing us from experiencing and realizing the fundamental precepts of this simple existence.

This morning unconditional love was defined for me and another piece of the puzzle has become complete.

Another Cheezy Profile...

You're the Fashion Plate!
Take What sort of Hipster are you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

You know what's "in" and what's "out," and you give those trends the finger! You wear what you want and get damn respect for it. You still own pants you wore in high school. Your hair is five different shades of hip. You make it cool to shop at Goodwill, the Gap, and even Walmart. You hang out in crowded bars and restaurants, but don't care if anyone is even looking at you (though they are). You're swank and friendly and at ease just about anywhere. You're well-liked and talked about. The world wants to be just like you.

Communication vs. "ANAL"-yzation, and Coinkidinks

Just this morning I was discussing the value of open communication in relationships - not just romantic, but familial, friendship and coworker as well. And as "coinkidink" would have it, I checked one of my regular blog reads and today's post examined the "thinking too much" syndrome that some "anal"-yzers encounter when faced with relationships. Then, being the "anal"-yzer that I am, as well as embarking on better communication techniques, I concluded that whether cogitating or relating, "anal"-yzing is just a severe and inhibiting form of communication. In English, what I am trying to convey is that communication at its most honest and straightforward is the comlier cousin of analysis at its most OCD. For many years I wondered why my relationships floundered even though I had a marvelous vocabulary and the intense counseling to back it up. However, I failed to recognize that I was not only analyzing my communication but "anal"-yzing it and ending up communicating very little and expecting perfect results from what I thought were very detailed communiqués.

Realization is the first step, practice is the scary, "go-out-of-your-comfort-zone" skip, and expectation fulfillment is the leap. I'm trying it, and it's working out more grandly than I could ever have imagined.

Updates to follow.

Complaint Department

Sometimes, specifically at this time, life is just too good for me to be posting. My job fits me perfectly, my family keeps encouraging me to gain weight, I have three living grandparents, a fourth date (with the same person) is pending, the Goose is running like a charm,... what do ya say to all that?? At forty, I look like I'm thirty, feel like I'm in highschool and have the wisdom of fifty (give or take). Mostly I write here when I am examining something, whether internal/external, emotional or physical, however there is precious little that bears close scrutiny just now. Perhaps I should be looking over my shoulder for that big glob of pookie hurtling towards my head. Or maybe I should just ride my happy wave and accept that I've rather got it together. Lord knows it will all start unravelling soon, but for the nonce I can't think of a sinlge thing to bitch about other than the fact that I remain the most UN-photogenic person in the galaxy.

Kiss, kiss and toodles