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Jun. 27th, 2003 01:10 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clayhornikAnger. Co-worker making me nuts today... again. Customer making me nuts again. A customer lectured me on how impressionable children were when it came to cartoons, she specifically cited TOM AND JERRY in her argument. I think for the most part (my nephews EXCLUDED) today's children are inordinately stupid. Never mind the reading 800+ page books, which are of course lures to worship Satan any way. ( sort of... *
Am still stalled on The Novel, working on a lighter piece to keep the momentum up. Read a book tonight. Star Trek Voyager novel. I feel almost guilty reading those damn things. I take longer to eat a good meal than I do reading a Star Trek novel. But in it's defense, this one had The Borg in it. Mmmmm. Leather. Metal. The complete subversion of one's will to another, being part of a collective, and BEST OF ALL complete renunciation of personal responsibility. Why haven't The Borg caught on like the Klingons? That's easy... can you imagine some of those guys trying to fit into a Borg outfit? Ok, that's terribly sizeist of me. BUT in my defense, Star Fleet costumes come in XXL sizes. "Worst episode ever."
--
Since Lust isn't really something I think about... stop laughing... I've decided to count lust and gluttony as pretty much the same thing. Really. Stop laughing. Have the "burnt cream" desert at Kincaids sometime. You'll know what I mean. Plus it's made using a blow torch. I can appreciate food prepared with something used to cut through steel.
--
Pride. I'm down to 178 lbs. From 196. Pride.
--
Calmed down a little from the beginning of this entry. I sometimes fear I'm a terribly unpleasant person to deal with. But then my arrogance circuit cuts in and I think "why should I care what other people think." It's not that I don't. It's just that I think too much. It's easier to turn it off than work it through.
--
Last night I went to a sports bar for dinner with my mom and dad. Good food, but as we approached the door, my father pointed out I should probably tuck in my t-shirt. First: I loathe fascist type establishments with dress codes. I was actually prepared to part company with my parents over it. Places like that that have dress codes need them to keep their clientele in line because they attract people who have to be told to behave. Brimless headgear was prohibited... let's see them explain that, eh, Rabbi? And brimmed capes, ie baseball caps, have to have the brim turned to the front. For Heaven's sake, it's a sports bar, demographically designed to appeal to neanderthal sports fans. I realize I graduated from high school well over a decade ago, but this place is a temple for the people who made over a third of my existance a living hell. The food was wonderful though- ham and corn chowder, and fried chicken livers. We sat in a more formal dining area, so I didn't have to listen to any of the games being broadcast on HUGE television screens. Instead, we listened to some rather pleasant jazz.
--
I wish I could apprecaite sports better. Envy. I wish I wasn't such a bitter person over such petty things. I've become rather good friends with several golfers. A couple of people who spend lots of time in the gym. A runner. I watched a several basket ball games and a little boxing. I was making some pretty good progress. Then I went in that place. Need to work on my reconditioning. Of course, seeing what my tormentors have become, at least as recently as our reunion in '97, I can say one thing: living well is the best revenge.
Am still stalled on The Novel, working on a lighter piece to keep the momentum up. Read a book tonight. Star Trek Voyager novel. I feel almost guilty reading those damn things. I take longer to eat a good meal than I do reading a Star Trek novel. But in it's defense, this one had The Borg in it. Mmmmm. Leather. Metal. The complete subversion of one's will to another, being part of a collective, and BEST OF ALL complete renunciation of personal responsibility. Why haven't The Borg caught on like the Klingons? That's easy... can you imagine some of those guys trying to fit into a Borg outfit? Ok, that's terribly sizeist of me. BUT in my defense, Star Fleet costumes come in XXL sizes. "Worst episode ever."
--
Since Lust isn't really something I think about... stop laughing... I've decided to count lust and gluttony as pretty much the same thing. Really. Stop laughing. Have the "burnt cream" desert at Kincaids sometime. You'll know what I mean. Plus it's made using a blow torch. I can appreciate food prepared with something used to cut through steel.
--
Pride. I'm down to 178 lbs. From 196. Pride.
--
Calmed down a little from the beginning of this entry. I sometimes fear I'm a terribly unpleasant person to deal with. But then my arrogance circuit cuts in and I think "why should I care what other people think." It's not that I don't. It's just that I think too much. It's easier to turn it off than work it through.
--
Last night I went to a sports bar for dinner with my mom and dad. Good food, but as we approached the door, my father pointed out I should probably tuck in my t-shirt. First: I loathe fascist type establishments with dress codes. I was actually prepared to part company with my parents over it. Places like that that have dress codes need them to keep their clientele in line because they attract people who have to be told to behave. Brimless headgear was prohibited... let's see them explain that, eh, Rabbi? And brimmed capes, ie baseball caps, have to have the brim turned to the front. For Heaven's sake, it's a sports bar, demographically designed to appeal to neanderthal sports fans. I realize I graduated from high school well over a decade ago, but this place is a temple for the people who made over a third of my existance a living hell. The food was wonderful though- ham and corn chowder, and fried chicken livers. We sat in a more formal dining area, so I didn't have to listen to any of the games being broadcast on HUGE television screens. Instead, we listened to some rather pleasant jazz.
--
I wish I could apprecaite sports better. Envy. I wish I wasn't such a bitter person over such petty things. I've become rather good friends with several golfers. A couple of people who spend lots of time in the gym. A runner. I watched a several basket ball games and a little boxing. I was making some pretty good progress. Then I went in that place. Need to work on my reconditioning. Of course, seeing what my tormentors have become, at least as recently as our reunion in '97, I can say one thing: living well is the best revenge.
