saint-louise's Diaryland Diary
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My brain. My bane.
One of the best things about posts like my last one is that I am almost immediately admonished by the Powers That Be (whether those Powers are deities, or karmic forces, or my own self-deprecating nature, or a dog in Newport Beach named Spanky...it�s all factory-processed lunch meat to me). Last night, I said no less than four things that came out Completely Wrong. Minus points on top of that in my little cosmic gradebook, for not making the effort to clarify anything. Although � to my limited credit � I most likely did not do so because my brain�s security system kicked in, shutting down all vocal abilities with the alarm: �ABORT. ABORT. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. SAFETY CAP FAILURE. OVERLOAD OF STUPIDITY PRODUCTION, SECTOR 141-A. NO FURTHER SPEECH ALLOWED AT THIS TIME.�
So, despite my frustration last Thursday that still lingers, I am applying the almighty Benefit of the Doubt, curtsying dutifully (if not particularly prettily), and letting it go.
Of course, I�m still waiting for retribution regarding my internalized anger toward the battalion of robins and starlings that annually shit all over my patio during the winter. The anger stays on the inside because I know there is a really good reason for my particular domicile being their restroom of choice. But one of these days I�m going to let it out. And there is a bird out there somewhere, on standby, waiting to crap on my head in retaliation.
You heard it here first. And I�m sure you�ve been slapped silly by the profundity of it all.
8:35 a.m. - 2004-02-18
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