Michelangelo sibyl from the Sistine Chapel

 

my empire

The storm yesterday cut into my sleep and left me a zombie for most of the night. I doubt that I could have held a conversation with someone if I had been called upon to do so. I just sat at my computer renaming directories for my journal as the hours slipped by like nothing. I was amazed at how much that I accomplished in that state of mind and continued in that mode through my shift at work.

Now I am not a culinary genius, but sometimes I just want to smack Martha Stewart. That woman is so condescending. This morning she was demonstrating how to make grill marks on boneless skinless chicken breasts. Are people really this dense? She gets paid for showing the obvious? Maybe I overlooked some subtle detail in her technique. Perhaps I should have taped it for future reference so that I could be more like her.

I want to build an empire just like Martha. I can see it now. The online journal will become a monthly magazine giving tips on how to sleep during the day. There will be interviews with former coworkers of mine telling tales of me eating during morning meetings. Candid photos of me at my keyboard typing journal entires will adorn the cover. Page after page will be filled with my witty stilted prose. Soon I'll start marketing tee shirts and coffee mugs with my journal logo on them. The craze will sweep the nation as I make the television talk show circuit.

Um, feel free to stop me any time here.

I'll be the first to admit that this has been a slow week for me. The entries have delved into such gripping topics as the weather and my house being without heat or water. I try to make some of this interesting, but sometimes there just isn't that much drama to my life. Then as the cliche says drama is really life with all of the boring parts taken out.

I also have to wonder about the people who live vicariously through other people. What makes me like a journal is the emotional content not what crazy adventure they had during the day. I like to see the world from a different point of view when I read a journal. I like someone who says something that I have felt.

I also refuse to see my life as boring. I will not accept that description. There are simply days where it is just me thinking. I try to give it more of a zen feel, but maybe it comes across as droning to others. I like to think that I have been true to myself throughout this journal. My writing style has been consistent if anything. I try not to be arch, but I do resort to sarcasm on occasion.

For the past few days I have been cobbling together an entry for Valentine's Day. It isn't bitter or negative. I like to see it as some of my thoughts on the concept of love and what it means to me. People have been writing about love for centuries, so I should be able to grind out a few short paragraphs on how it relates to me. If I can't then maybe I better check to see if I still have a pulse.

Now I won't be so crude as to say what I like about sex or anything along those lines. I just want to address what the word means to me.

 
audio input at the moment: Car Wheels on a Gravel Road - Lucinda Williams
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