My Saturday Night

I do realize that a lot of what I tend to write about are small domestic scenes, and I'm okay with that. They're easy, and more or less a stream of consciousness type of writing that is good for me, before turning my mind to more creative pursuits.

I do have several writing projects that have been kindly set to one side for the last few months. Even the books I've recent weeks have been neglected. I bought Amanda Palmer's book for Christmas, plus a few more from Neil Gaiman before Christmas and I haven't been able to much more than get a few pages in before gently put aside on my nightstand - the stack is steadily growing, I'm afraid.

Work has basically consumed my life for the last 2 months or so. I was prepping for a big promotions interview earlier this week. It didn't quiet go as planned. I spent 2 months getting ready for it, and while I did ... okay ... I didn't quite get the result I wanted. My promotions interview was broken down into several different sections, and you were graded on how well you performed in each section based on the questions you were asked and the answers I provided. I passed all the section except one - thankfully, my company believes in Do Overs! So, I have to wait a couple of weeks, get some extra preparation in for that section and line up a few meetings with various department heads and get ready to go and slam that section in to the ground! I was pretty disappointed when I found out. I had put so much effort and hard work in to only to miss it by "that much."

I'm not ashamed to say that I cried. Granted, I locked myself in a private bathroom and did that weird, hideous, silent cry. You know the one ... the one where you try not look at yourself in the mirror because it's that bad, and then you get all confused about what you're crying about - "Am I crying because I'm sad? Or am I crying because I look terrible when I cry? Or am I crying because I am that vain to be concerned about how I look when I cry?! What is wrong with me?!?"

And then it just turns in a vicious cycle of crying ...


Sometimes, cable television really friggin' nails it. Now, as much as I am a fan of the Star trek reboot and Chris Pine, nothing can really compare to William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, and sweet sweet George Takei.

Goddamn, Ohoura!! Girl got MAD skills, yo!

That was probably one of the single best moments in television history!

Now Dev's gone and changed the channel. That man is most definitely not a Trekkie. To be fair I'm not a die hard Trekkie either, but me and my older brother Ernie would watch it when we were kids, so it holds a bit of a special place in my heart.

So, instead of watching Ohoura grind up on top of a sand dune doing an interstellar slo-mo cha cha, we've changed gears (a little) and have settled on Big Bang Theory. Meanwhile, I'm probably going to change the channel again anyway because we do hella marathons of BBT around here. MIB3 is also on as well. It wasn't the best one in the franchise, but it was kinda fun.

Besides, he's cooking supper ... his vote is basically moot.


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