Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing
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Monday, Mar. 15, 2004 - 2:03 a.m.
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Pounding Neighbors and Groping Children or is that Children Groping?
Well, just to spite fate, I am writing yet another essay in the entry box and not on word or some fancy dancy thing. That is just wrong. Like writing a loveletter on the computer and then COPYING it by hand later. urk.
Once again somehow it is 2am... it seems it was recently 5pm. But I guess I was busy with other things.
I DID go to the gym for the first time since like Christmas and actually did yoga stretches (my gosh!) and upperbody weights! Yay!
I decided I totally have to get both my flexibility and my strength up if I am not going to look like a hopeless dolt at the flamenco year end show.
So after the gym I went to the studio I'm renting with all those unknown kids (yeah, like 6 young artsy fartsies, most of whom I haven't met) and practiced my flamenco for an hour. It came to an abrupt end at 11:08pm when several bursts of fancy stomping were met with equally fancy bursts of pounding from an adjacent studio.
It seems some insane people, snubbing residential bliss to live in an industrial studio complex, seem intent on continuing their mainstream sleep-hour residential lives and in doing so hinder my god-given right to stomp Hispanically. (well what is the adverb for Spanish?) Sigh. The girl in whose name the studio is rented is going to find out what's up tomorrow.
OK, now look at this sketch I did for the Spelling people. Think about what might be objectionable about it. It needs a redraw. Look carefully. Yeah.
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| Spelling hopscotch kids, copyright 2004 Wench77 |
Ok, didn't find it? Well, they think we need to see both the boy's hands since he MIGHT be groping the girl with his hidden hand. Yup. I don't know about you, but if someone were groping me, I would pay them more attention, either positive or negative. I dunno. It must be a new "hands in plain view at all times" policy. Horrible. I think adults that think like this need therapy. Or should work in a radio station with Dangerspouse. yeah.
Well, end of this entry. I will write another about the bar last week, and last night. tah!
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previous meanderings - future past
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009
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