It's a sickness, I tell you
I don't know what virus Hurricanehead has, but it's certainly worn out its welcome. I called on my zombie-arts training to get through the last two days with minimal sleep but I'm achey myself and reaching my crankiness threshold. So I might as well talk about the way some dude killed my yoga buzz Saturday morning.
When I get out of yoga class I'm about half-stoned because I am very good at clearing my mind during meditation and relaxation. I don't know why and I don't care to speculate because no flattering theories suggest themselves. When Hombre and I took hypnobirthing classes, my instructor said I stayed deeply out of it during one session while my three-year-old tried to destroy a plastic skeleton in her office. I had to take her word for it.
Saturday I had to fax something after yoga. No, I don't have a fax machine or a fax utility on the computer. I only recently got an electric pencil sharpener, and I figured why make space on the desk for something I rarely need, unpack it, and learn how it works -- or worse yet, try to get software to work right the first time with Windows -- when every little mail store in the world has a fax for hire?
Now I know exactly why. One, it cost me fourteen dollars to send this particular missive. Two, I had to listen to a middle-aged white guy tell me his take on politics.
Please don't ask me how that second thing happened. I was still groovy from yoga and not paying attention to the drift of the small talk. Next thing I know, we're talking about how no one in Congress seems interested in upholding principles, and before I can change the subject -- and before my fax is done -- I get to hear about how the Democrats are craven and shameless because they abandoned Joe Lieberman.
I thought about focusing my mind and launching a response, since we were having a conversation and all, but then I realized it was no longer a discussion. It had become a lecture. I decided to cling to what remained of that calm feeling I'd had just five minutes earlier. I listened, sort of, and got the idea that he thought Lieberman had been treated unfairly because, after all, he'd been in politics a long time. Then my lecturer said he was going to vote against all the incumbents in November. No cognitive dissonance there.
Sure enough, the monologue continued unabated until my fax was done and paid for. Did he learn anything from our little chat? I don't see how he could have. Did I? Yes. I learned that in his self-described conservative worldview, party loyalty counts for more than right action. I learned not to talk to strangers right after yoga. And I learned that it's best to have your own office equipment.
When I get out of yoga class I'm about half-stoned because I am very good at clearing my mind during meditation and relaxation. I don't know why and I don't care to speculate because no flattering theories suggest themselves. When Hombre and I took hypnobirthing classes, my instructor said I stayed deeply out of it during one session while my three-year-old tried to destroy a plastic skeleton in her office. I had to take her word for it.
Saturday I had to fax something after yoga. No, I don't have a fax machine or a fax utility on the computer. I only recently got an electric pencil sharpener, and I figured why make space on the desk for something I rarely need, unpack it, and learn how it works -- or worse yet, try to get software to work right the first time with Windows -- when every little mail store in the world has a fax for hire?
Now I know exactly why. One, it cost me fourteen dollars to send this particular missive. Two, I had to listen to a middle-aged white guy tell me his take on politics.
Please don't ask me how that second thing happened. I was still groovy from yoga and not paying attention to the drift of the small talk. Next thing I know, we're talking about how no one in Congress seems interested in upholding principles, and before I can change the subject -- and before my fax is done -- I get to hear about how the Democrats are craven and shameless because they abandoned Joe Lieberman.
I thought about focusing my mind and launching a response, since we were having a conversation and all, but then I realized it was no longer a discussion. It had become a lecture. I decided to cling to what remained of that calm feeling I'd had just five minutes earlier. I listened, sort of, and got the idea that he thought Lieberman had been treated unfairly because, after all, he'd been in politics a long time. Then my lecturer said he was going to vote against all the incumbents in November. No cognitive dissonance there.
Sure enough, the monologue continued unabated until my fax was done and paid for. Did he learn anything from our little chat? I don't see how he could have. Did I? Yes. I learned that in his self-described conservative worldview, party loyalty counts for more than right action. I learned not to talk to strangers right after yoga. And I learned that it's best to have your own office equipment.
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