hebetude \HEB-uh-tood-; -tyood\, noun:
Mental dullness or sluggishness.


Hrmph. “A terminal funk of hebetude and sloth…” Methinks that is the way I am feeling today.

Work… you say? But of course.

Cyclical like banter
Singing chants like cantor

Job: The second cousin to Aunt So-AND-So, that nobody likes…every year she brings the same Jell-O mold.

Picked up a bucket of muse on the moon
Wished it were a pitcher of you
Sang a song about rumination
But Deliberation made “methinks” anew.

Thought about thinking
Walked without winking
Pots and pans clinking…

Cogitation in lieu.

So I grabbed a thicket of unreality
And put it in my Alpha-Caboodle Stew
Swirled it around with some subconscious decision
And my thoughts were still focused on Who.

Walked along a trail of indecision
Until it got off track
So now I find myself at the start of beginning
Tripping over truth with the facts.

Judged about judging
Drudged without nudging
Smear without smudging

Consideration says, “I do”.

So I set free a vile of anti-dissension
And got it out of my Alpha-Mélange Soup
Twisted it up in blender of Me
But Infallibility was thrown for a loop.

… and life on her planet will never be the same.

I felt so sneaky. There, in the snow, slyly covering my tracks like a fox on the trail of its newfound prey. I laughed. It was one of those hearty guttural laughs that brought back memories of childhood playfulness and mid-life crisis. My arms were numb, and my legs resembled a snowy incline, complete with avalanches and snow-slides. I wondered if my glove did cease to be a glove when it no longer protected me from the harsh reality that is winter. Frantically I continued. It was like I couldn’t stop, exhilarating me, exhausting me, taking every ounce of my being.

The snow danced on my face, the cold bit my feet, the ice stabbed my ears. But I continued. Gallantly. (QUICK! GET DOWN!) I thought someone was peaking out of the window. My adrenaline was pumping and my body glistened with sweat despite the frigid weather. I almost gave myself away. As I rounded the edge of completion the victory was mine. I had accomplished, defeated, life summoned me to a task and I was its owner. Then as I quickly ran away from my prey, I knew that somewhere, somehow, someway I made a difference. I was the catalyst. I made a change. The possibilities of outcomes were endless. I walked home, a victorious warrior returning to her rightful habitat.

…and when that family goes outside to start their car, they will see the result of my handiwork. For, their car was happily cleared of all snow by the Walk-By-Car-Clearer-Bandit. Their lives might never be the same.

I never ask why I received the mission, I never complain, I never think “why me”. I just do it, because that’s what life is all about. Make Change.

THE BLAME GAME: Tonight’s featured guest: The Downfall of Me

So let’s just say that you take responsibility for your own actions. And that you decide that the reason you couldn’t win the race was because you relied on Me to get you to the starting line.
Guess what, I have to rely on Me… Maybe there’s not enough to go around.
Guess what, Me needs a vacation.
Guess what, Me needs to curl up in a corner and read a good book.

So, you decide the reason you couldn’t pick up the reward money was because you relied on Me to bring you the bag to put it in.

Down on Me
Down on Me
Down on Me

Because You just got Up.

I have to admit…I’m a fan. The Apprentice has got me hooked. HOOKED I SAY! Let’s just start this by stating that I am a business-exalter. Business is how I thrive, processes, methodologies, and departmental breakdowns; those are my passions (sad, I know). I love the way people interact when they have a common goal. Methinks that is why my ex-boyfriend playfully dubbed me as “business-bitch” whenever I would get into my rant and rave mode about companies and events that peaked my interest.

Now with that preface, let’s talk about the show. Donald Trump: I’m diggin’ him. From his clear-cut decisions, to his perseverance and his playful mannerisms…he’s just the sort of billionaire you love to hate and hate to love. But, come on Mr. T… methinks it’s time for a hairstyle change. That puff of cotton candy you have protruding from your forehead is quite unbecoming (and just think, you didn’t even have to pay an image consultant for that advice). Let’s stick with the main point here: The Apprentice. Men vs. Women. VersaCorp vs. Protégé. Man vs. Himself. Woman vs. Machine. Money vs. Power (I see an upcoming made for TV movie here).

Things I love to hate about the show:
The random sampling of men and women chosen for the show are horrible. The women bicker and fight, the men can’t get their act together. There is not one among the sampling that seems intelligent enough or that has enough drive to be chosen as the apprentice.

What disturbs me most:
It’s all about money. All contestants focus on the fact that they want to have Trumps money, and that is what drives them to compete. Money isn’t everything folks… gaining respect form your peers, helping others in need, using your power and money to make a difference, now that is a worthwhile cause (can I get an AMEN?!).

Predictions:
Methinks they are going to choose the black female (Omarosa) in the end… she’s a political consultant and PhD candidate. Although I can’t stand her attitude and her “black power” trip, she seems like the most levelheaded and mature person for the job (which is not saying much). I’m not too impressed with any of the guys that are on the show, not in brains, or brawn, or individuality.

Tune in next week…

PICTURE THIS… it’s below zero outside. The exhaust of a thousand vehicles droning by like worker bees has tainted the new fallen snow. In the distance is an apartment; some might call it a home even though by nature it is a temporary dwelling. Our humble narrator can be seen in the distance, snuggled up close.
Shared existence, like parasite to host.
A host.

So, tonight a book is my long lost love.

And I’m the Queen of Chivalry
And I’m the Princess of Gallant
And I’m the Epitome of Courageous


lost

In the nadir of the narrator’s soul…because that is where I reside.

Wrap me up in a handshake
I’ll show you the depths of my smile
Cradle my feelings in a covenant of love
And delight me while your ambiance beguiles.

I can’t be your analgesic
But pain is the breath of a sigh
So when you feel the fingertips of life’s progression
I can help the pain to subside.

Wrap me up in a lullaby
I’ll show you the widths of my ease
Support my opinion in a pledge of devotion
And I’ll guide you with a passion that doesn’t cease.

I can’t be your magic potion
But I just might have the cure
So when you feel the birth pangs of resolution
My soul is an open door.

Be my BuildMeUp, so I can be your Try…

Enter me.

It slapped me in the face… the sting of realization in my eyes. You go along fighting, wondering, trying, being. And sometimes you don’t know what is right. And sometimes you put up a fight. But in the end it’s always the same theme.
Did I mention a moral?

Our humble narrator has come to some realizations, and they have always been there, perhaps it is the first time (again) she has decided to acknowledge them.
And life won’t be the same.
And her world does not remain.

I AM THE NARRATOR’S SOUL,
AND I’M RESTIVE,
AND I’M EXCITED.
DID I MENTION RELENTLESS?

So I e-mailed my heart, and I told it I was ready (CARBON COPY: Catalyst; BLIND CARBON COPY: Change).

So she’s restless again, and she thinks it’s about that time to throw life into the wind and see where it falls, more importantly see where G-d leads it. This is just the beginning…

Curtain remains open. Exit stage left.

Her life spilled out onto the canvas
A smear of anxiety
A dollop of doubt
A smidgen of fear

And it seemed pieces of her
were in every
stroke
of
the
brush.

A bit of blue
A slit of gray
A douse of black

and red was an afterthought.

bus•y P Pronunciation Key (b z )
adj. bus•i•er, bus•i•est
1. Engaged in activity, as work; occupied.
2. Sustaining much activity: a busy morning; a busy street.
3. Meddlesome; prying.
4. Being in use, as a telephone line.
5. Cluttered with detail to the point of being distracting: a busy design.

Let’s just say these past few week have been a little less than hectic, a little more than demanding, and just about eventful.

FACT: Vacation from work is not the same as vacation from mind
FACT: Friends, family, and acquaintances were all in alignment this week
FACT: I need a break. A BREAK I SAY!

So yeah, our humble narrator has found herself entertaining and being entertained more oft then not these weeks. And I just want to relax at home. And I just want to be alone. And I don’t want to answer the phone.

You get like that sometimes, right? Like you want to shut the world out for a while so you can think
And breath
And ponder
And create
And be… without outside influence. Well, my muse is not really suffering, but I haven’t found the time to…

Let’s talk about New Years. 11:45, Alpha The Great on the West Side Highway, no traffic.

And she screamed at the top of her lungs.
And she was in her car alone, which she loved.

So I went to this party in the city… and for some reason people want to be around each other for events, and for some reason people don’t want to be alone, and for some reason people get depressed when they are by themselves.
Not me.

So your humble narrator thought… he’s here, and he’s got money, and he’s got “friends”, and it seems he’s living it up. But I wonder how many of those people were here for him. You know? I mean how many people did he even know? That is what parties are about though… put a bunch of people in a room with some music and alcohol. In the end everyone just wants to get laid, or brag about who they are, or get laid, or brag about who they are, or get laid, or brag about who they are…


This IS New York, isn’t it?