Who I Read
March 10, 2003
Sanity breaks are a mandatory happenstance at AcronymCo. Last week (Tuesday, I think it was?) a girlfriend and I left work at 3:00 ("Hi, D!" "Get me outta here! I'm about to commit a homicide." "Yo, we are so gone.") in the afternoon to go to a local place called Angel Sweet, and get some Italian Gellato. The sun was shining, the windows were down, and we were thumping tune-age on the radio (and enjoying it despite the fact that the amp's wasted and the bass kept switching on and off). On the way back to work, we were highly tempted to just keep driving until we reached California. Really! It's not that far. Six hours and we're there, looking up the hot San Diego night spots and searching for umbrella-clad drinks. It'll be fun! We don't need our toothbrushes! Or jammies! I have a scrunchie in my bag, who needs shampoo?? We can sleep in the truck. Our spouses will forgive us, really!
So, we didn't. It was a close thing, though. I think what clinched it was that we only had, like, four good CD's in the truck. Oh, and the aforementioned spouses. I adore road trips. Especially with sunshine, good tunes and good company to go with it.
The reason this comes to mind is because at this moment Depeche Mode is taking a ride with their best friend. I heart LaunchCast. It's the only thing that keeps me sane while I'm writing my weekly report.
I'd just like to mention something good that happened to me a couple of weeks ago. I was standing in line in the AcronymCo cafeteria, waiting to pay for my breakfast (oatmeal). There was a gentleman ahead of me, whom I didn't really take much note of. I couldn't describe him now if I had to, let alone pick him out of a crowd. Anyway, I got up to the cashier, and she said, "You're all paid for."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"The guy ahead of you paid for your breakfast."
"Oh, man! That was so nice of him! I don't even know him!" I was verklempt. The guy had taken off rather quickly, and I couldn't spot him again so I could thank him.
"Oh, yeah," she said. "He does that all the time."
Isn't that nice? He did something nice for someone he didn't even know, and didn't even expect a "thank you" or make a show of being generous. We need more people like that.
Last week, I was stuck in the most boring teleconference in history. Each one is more boring than the last, and some day I see myself slipping into a drooling coma, gathering dust and beginning to funk up the office until some day, weeks down the road, the janitor vacuums me up, mistaking me for a dust bunny. In order to prevent this singularly inelegant demise, I perused my regular journal reads. I came across Elle's all-quiz entry. Man, what a way to blow the last half hour of this torture! I did a few, generally unimpressed, until I came across this:
Congratulations. You are the
Kiss My Ass Happy Bunny.
You must be so proud.
which happy bunny are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
I don't think I can think of a single thing that describes me better. I'm the "Kiss My Ass" Happy Bunny! The KMAHB. That's me. That's so me. I take no shit, and do it with a smile! Captain Happy with an attitude! The epitome of sarcasm, the essence of cheer! I won't do what you demand, but I'll make you happy you asked!
Dude. Don't mess with the Bunny. Seriously.
I had such a good time on Friday. My department went to a spring training game (Diamondbacks vs. Cubs), and I dragged Marie and Heather along. My daily supply of vitamin D provided by the sun we were soaking up, some nice cold ($6.00!!) beer, and Heather and Marie to banter with. Who could ask for anything more? Oh, yeah, a frickin' stereo with bass!!! Seeing as we were stuck in traffic for the better part of an hour, trying to get in to park.
I wonder if anyone is tired of hearing about my wonderfully wonderful life? I can write the minutiae of it here, but the texture escapes. I can say that Calvin and I went for a nice long ride on the motorcycle on Saturday, but I can't adequately describe how soul-satisfying it is to wrap my arms around him, and receive a pat on my leg in response to my squeeze. I can describe our instinctive and wordless interaction as we move with each other, with the flow of traffic, but you might not think our unspoken communication and body language was anything important. I can describe how we stopped at a bar with a nice outdoor seating area, and drank three Sam Adams Light's apiece (note: neither of use reacted like the people on the commercials, but they are good), and talked. But you didn't hear the conversation, and even if you had, would it have mattered as much to you? Because what we were talking about wasn't as important as the fact that we were there, facing one another, enjoying the sun and the breeze and the happiness and the contentment. I can tell you about how we watched a bunch of movies this weekend (The Four Feathers and One Hour Photo and Stealing Harvard), but you may not understand how much the three of us love to be piled together on the couch under blankets, snacks and drinks and each other close at hand. You can't feel how warm it makes my heart to rest my head on Marie's shoulder, you might not share our amusement while we watch Calvin nod off, you don't have Heath Ledger as a secret boyfriend. You may not have the opportunity to feel the sense of peace and being cared for that I felt as I feel asleep last night, Calvin tickling my back, the TV playing quietly in the background.
You may know exactly what I'm talking about, and you may be just as happy. You may know exactly what I'm talking about, and you may feel an absence. You may just wish I'd shut the hell up, because who cares anyway?
With so many people feeling fear, or loneliness, or unhappiness, I can still stand unashamed and unafraid of my own happiness. To live it is not to flaunt it. To tell about it is not to brag. To experience it is not to turn my back on the reality of the way the world is today. It is to live in defiance of the darkness, the cynicism, the numbness.
I cherish, and I am cherished. I feel joy, and I'm not afraid to admit it.