At my last job, one of the ladies would come in and have an "hour of power" - she'd write emails, straighten up her office, make plans for the day, and get all the things that were left unfinished the day before, finished. I figure my "hour of power" is from 7am to 8am, when I schlep around the internet before actually starting my work. Although I don't really do much except harrass people on Facebook, IM friends that are up at this time too, and update the diary... there must be some validity in that. At least I enjoy it, I suppose.
Since yesterday was a no-go, this is my first official day "in charge." Wish me luck, wish me money, and for God's sake, can somebody discover me as the most genius thing ever today!? Love that! Thanks!

This Halloween (last weekend in KC)
... up there with one of the most debaucherous nights of my life.

Displaced

Well, the ole' xanga has outlived it's potential.. so we, the proverbial we, are moving here...

I have had to say au revoir to many a people in my day, and it is getting tiresome, it is getting harder; it is making me slouch and feel numb and make me put too much emphasis on what was said and who said it - what was done and whodunit. We try to keep people snug in our pockets, but they crawl out one day. And when we're old and gray, wrinkled and toothless, we'll realize we never kept in touch. That we don't have the huge array of friends we'd had when we were younger, that we don't socialize until 7am any longer - but maybe those that we shared everything with might still be at the party. Maybe they're still rifling through antique books, still kissing girls on street corners and walking home alone. Perhaps they're still running bases, still dancing on bars, still singing in a backroom in St. Paul, slurping cold beers on barstools, playing with brown-eyed puppies, longing for adolescence but excited about what the future holds, holding hands when no one is looking, crying on a Bedford stoop, and getting sweaty blackeyes.

It can't last forever.