Stressed-the-fucked-out

It’s summer vacation, but life is as unpredictable as the weather. Hot one day, cold the next. Where is the in-between? I miss Goldilocks and her just-rights. I need a calm, ordinary day. Perhaps I would be lounging on my bed, reading the latest novel. Or maybe even gazing at the sky, daydreaming.  But I am not doing that, or any vacation-related activity. Instead, I am stressed out every single day trying to please people who don’t know how to be pleased. Ugh. I hate being social. If this is what customer service is supposed to be, I have to give those people a big, fat award for dealing with snotty customers everyday. How THICK can a person get?

Dumb question.

empty static

Death is such an impersonal thing. It tears you away from the people you love at a distance far away from you. It feels like the end to someone you’ve known all your life should happen in front of you, with you. So you can feel their pain and watch as their life fades from their bodies.

But that seldom happens. Instead, all you get is a phone call probably, an impersonal notification that it’s happened. Where is the proof? Where is the feeling? Isn’t death supposed to be tragic? But a tragedy is filled with gore and violence and women holding their breasts with their heads torn through the sky and crying like there’s no tomorrow. But there is a tomorrow. And a day after. And a day after that. Life goes on even if you don’t want it to. Some essential part of your life has been lost, stolen away, but there is that unceasing part of you that still keeps ticking. Like the energizer bunny.

If only life were so funny.

le moulin

a thousand words entangled into one. is there any day as beautiful as this?