Life is a Bag of Mixed Nuts

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In cobra country a mongoose was born one day who didn't want to fight cobras or anything else. The word spread from mongoose to mongoose that there was a mongoose who didn't want to fight cobras. If he didn't want to fight anything else, it was his own business, but it was the duty of every mongoose to kill cobras or be killed by cobras.
"Why?" asked the peacelike mongoose, and the word went around that the strange new mongoose was not only pro-cobra and anti-mongoose but intellectually curious and against the ideals and traditions of mongooism.
"He is crazy," cried the young mongoose's father.
"He is sick," said his mother.
"He is a coward," shouted his brothers.
"He is a mongoosexual," whispered his sisters.
Strangers who had never laid eyes on the peacelike mongoose remembered that they had seen him crawling on his stomach, or trying on cobra hoods, or plotting the violent overthrow of Mongoosia.
"I am trying to use reason and intelligence," said the strange new mongoose.
"Reason is six-sevenths of treason," said one of his neighbors.
"Intelligence is what the enemy uses," said another.
Finally, the rumor spread that the mongoose had venom in his sting, like a cobra, and he was tried, convicted by a show of paws, and condemned to banishment.

Moral: Ashes to ashes, and clay to clay, if the enemy doesn't get you your own folks may.

In cobra country a mongoose was born one day who didn't want to fight cobras or anything else. The word spread from mongoose to mongoose that there was a mongoose who didn't want to fight cobras. If he didn't want to fight anything else, it was his own business, but it was the duty of every mongoose to kill cobras or be killed by cobras.
"Why?" asked the peacelike mongoose, and the word went around that the strange new mongoose was not only pro-cobra and anti-mongoose but intellectually curious and against the ideals and traditions of mongooism.
"He is crazy," cried the young mongoose's father.
"He is sick," said his mother.
"He is a coward," shouted his brothers.
"He is a mongoosexual," whispered his sisters.
Strangers who had never laid eyes on the peacelike mongoose remembered that they had seen him crawling on his stomach, or trying on cobra hoods, or plotting the violent overthrow of Mongoosia.
"I am trying to use reason and intelligence," said the strange new mongoose.
"Reason is six-sevenths of treason," said one of his neighbors.
"Intelligence is what the enemy uses," said another.
Finally, the rumor spread that the mongoose had venom in his sting, like a cobra, and he was tried, convicted by a show of paws, and condemned to banishment.

Moral: Ashes to ashes, and clay to clay, if the enemy doesn't get you your own folks may.

that's it i give up. even commas i think i will do without for a while. i've had enough. it's not working and i am not getting anywhere. or i should say i give in. i think i will do with for a while. i want more. it is working and i am getting somewhere. surely denial was invented for a purpose and so i shall live happy in denial but happy. only commas maybe as a sign of silent protest i shall continue to ignore. semi colons are they commas? do they deserve the same treatment?

i was out tonight. it's all going to start to make sense. i was out dancing. we danced on the dance floor. we got nearer. we danced together. that screamed headwreckage in my headwrecked head but i let it happen. my poor heart my poor head thinking at two hundred miles an hour sweating what will happen when we have to talk about it you know it. no you don't of course but lets just say it is a pain in the neck it is an obstacle to building something.

so we dance and we touch and we touch and we dance. i like it. not the same it obviously. but we dance and we dance and i touch but we dance. you know subtle like. so we dance and my head is on his shoulder my knees between his knees and the music is pumping or i can not remember the music it is not good anyway and i don't care about the music so much since he put his hand on my shoulder. so we kiss. we dance. we kiss we kiss we kiss we kiss.

it's unfortunate he must be special that i break my one or two week old vow of celibacy like that but no he is no more special than anyone else in the room other than for the fact that he kissed me. and i kissed him. that's nice. but it's on my mind. that it. the monster. i want don't want want don't want. the music is pumping and he is a smoker i can smell his breath his clothes but he is nice and he is a smoker and i used to be and i am tolerant. desperate? no tolerant and disgusted. so he goes out for a cigarette and he comes back and we dance and kiss and that's fine. then he goes out for a cigarette and i go out to watch him smoke and he has a friend who does not say anything to me and they talk to each other and i am not allowed to listen but it has to be bad.

so i go back and dance. i dance cause i came to dance and nothing more. oh get your body on the dance floor. so he gets his body down but we don't dance and we don't kiss and we don't talk and we don't smile. yes he smiled quite a bit. but now he is not smiling to me because he is not on the dance floor but i am. and i go "oh headwreckage" i know it is not a word usually but right now it is a word like a head on collision of my head chasing collisions. and i never find him again but i look just in case. but in case is not happening. no in case. nothing. not even a nostril hair left behind to tell me that i didn't have a nightmare.

so that's why i give up and i give up on commas tonight and tomorrow or the day after everything will be fine again and i will forget i was never going to use commas again.

I wrote a fifty thousand word novel in thirty days, while working a 36.3 hour a week day job and studying for an evening class. I also applied for a second job...

OK, I forgot to eat (but made up for it later) and could not get out of bed some days. Starved, sleepy and deprived, I became irritable. Despite all this I managed to go out, have fun, and share in all the things life only throws at you when you have a full schedule.

I am exhausted now! Next challenge, please?

A short documentary about what you eat / Get free stickers at peta2.com.

The bad news is...  November means NaNoWriMo means insane National Novel Writing Month. What is insane about is that I commit to writing fifty thousand words in thirty days when I hardly have the time to write three-word emails to my nearest and dearest during the week. That's only 1666 words a day, when you think about it, if I write every day. Gasp!

Follow my progress, or lack of progress, on this blog (recommended) or read my masterpiece as I make it up via my NaNoWriMo pages (seriously not recommended).

Now here is something for you to think about: will you too write a novel this month? www.nanowrimo.org.

Not only can you find friends and lovers on the internet, it’s also possible to learn how to tie a tie. The lesson comes from www.tie-a-tie.net, as shown in this illustration taken from their website.

The idea was that I would present myself to today’s interview as a high-flying consultant, who knows how to tie a tie in an appropriate and distinguished manner. Having dusted the old suit and assorted shoes, I picked a pink shirt and red tie (yes, they worked together, just trust me on that one) and proceeded to tie a Windsor knot. Neat!

This image thing helped me resolve another long-standing dilemma: if I had to spend a lump sum in September, should I use it towards a bicycle or renewing my gym subscription? On the one hand, either will contribute to my fitness (while clearly the bike gets me around at no extra cost), on the other hand, it is likely I will stop using both after the initial enthusiasm has faded (which causes an additional transport problem). That dilemma was solved shortly after my interview when I bought three proper, consultant-grade shirts for the price of a small bicycle.