Tuesday, August 23, 2016

sparking inferno

While SB was out of town, I launched my semi-annual ritual of purging and cleaning. When you live in a tiny home with a borderline hoarder and two spoiled pooches, it is an important and sanity saving ritual. I try to schedule SB's vacations when the seasons change over so that I can do a review of all of the warm weather clothing before storing it and pulling out the cold weather clothing. 

I also try to do one major project. Last December I reorganized all of the dishes and kitchenware. This time I tackled Will's closet, not a feat for the weak. After determining that 90% of his clothing was made up of t-shirts or athletic trainers, I devised a better way to fold and store them. The normal way of stacking t-shirts does not work out very well for people who collect them like precious pieces of gold. SB had a closet filled with leaning and collapsed towers of shirts. I devised a method of folding the t-shirts into rectangles with the logo facing up, and then arranging them in his drawer so that he could see all of his shirts. I also was able to pack in all of his shirts into three large drawers.

When SB returned, I showed him the magnificent job that I did and gave him a tutorial on folding his t-shirts. Three weeks later, he has been maintaining the technique, albeit not as beautifully as when I did it, but effective nonetheless.

SB's t-shirt folding prowess

One of my friends, upon hearing me crow about my successful organizing (it was a slow news day) told me that it sounded a lot like the Kondo-mari method. We ended up boring the bartender to tears talking about organization, and I went home to try out the "spark joy" technique.

I told SB that according to Ms. Kondo, we should hold our items in our hands and if they sparked joyful feelings of happiness, we should keep them. If the objects did not cause happiness, then we should get rid of them. I had images of de-clutter dancing in my head as I pointed SB to his closet. 

Half an hour later, I found SB wallowing in a pile of unfolded clothing and knick-knacks. The clutter seemed to have multiplied. SB was sitting on his throne of fabric and objects, happily reminiscing that time that he went to a tournament and was given a free Coors Light t-shirt. He beheld the tattered and stained shirt as he smiled happily. The same went for every single item, down to the sombrero that had washed up on the beach and was joyfully claimed by Mr. Packrat. 

Then I spend the next hour tidying up after him as SB went from room to room, dragging out all of his precious artifacts and reliving their moments. So for us, the Kondo-mari method had the opposite effect of the intended getting rid of clutter, but I can't call it a complete failure because it made SB so happy. I can't say that I was particularly sparky but sometimes you take one for the team.

Tuesday, August 16, 2016

that word does not mean what you think it does

On Fox Business, Trump's spokesperson Katrina Pierson said that reporters "literally beat Trump supporters into submission".

"She literally does not know what 'literally' means," wrote a commenter, beating my identical comment.

I am struggling not to spend the rest of my day creating witty comebacks.

Monday, July 11, 2016

film reeling

I don't understand why so many people are panning Tarzan. Many reviews are saying bad things blah blah stilted dialogue. Was there even dialogue? I don't recall. I thought that the movie was brilliant. Alexander Skarsgard was perfect; he managed to look hot for every second of every scene, for the entire 1 hour and 50 minutes of the movie. Every angle of his physique was amazing at all times! Each pore in his ridiculously sculpted physique acted to shift, flex and shine for every wet, shirtless moment of the movie. It was worth every dollar that I spent to be able to observe Alexander Skarsgard's six pack in a dimly lit, air conditioned room. I'm pretty sure that I was flushed for most of the movie and yet I managed not to pass out. Those obliques were perfectly directed to flex in accordance with the rippling abs, each muscle rippling and undulating as Tarzan swung through the forest. I hope that this movie has a sequel where he loses his trousers. I can't recommend this movie enough.

Friday, July 8, 2016

fodder for thought

I'm not especially fond of the man who works under the Senior Manager with a personality disorder, but I recognize that he is a productive worker and does the best that can be accomplished under such unusual conditions, the conditions being that the senior manager is barking mad. I tried not to care when the senior manager inexplicably (but then almost everything he does defies linear thought) turned on him. The underling is often left to clean up messes and actually accomplish tasks and it was as per usual except in this case, the senior decided that the underling had overstepped. Never mind that the underling was the only reason work was proceeding while senior manager concerned himself with sending out diatribes of spam-like quantity and increasingly unhinged accusations (always blame, never solution).

So for the past week I have had a front row seat to numerous humiliating emails sent out to all of the consultant teams, instructing us to no longer address any items to the underling as he no longer had decision making authority. By yesterday evening, upon reading the last email in its Comic Sans, multiple font and color glory, I could only shake my head at why the seniors of the senior manager had not yet discreetly reminded him that spewing your internal conflicts to your external consultants was probably inadvisable.

This morning during one our our numerous weekly coordination meetings, I told found myself complimenting the underling for how he managed us over a complicated interface issue, in front of all of the senior managers. Underling looked over at me in surprise (recall that we aren't especially fond of one another). Sometimes when you are shipwrecked together on an island, you find yourself sharing shelter for a moment or two before reminding yourself that there is no room for humanity, and then you go back to trying to cannibalize each other.

Thursday, July 7, 2016

fear and prejudice

You would think that you should know yourself well enough but then the truth slaps you in the face. When I was in college, I knew that I wasn't a bigot. But then one of my black friends told me that he passed by hundreds of people every day on campus and sometimes he went the whole day without anyone making eye contact. On my way back to my dorm, I passed a black guy and my eyes slid away. Huh, wasn't that interesting. And there was the truth, slapping me in the face.

Monday, June 13, 2016

waiting

This has been one fucked up day. Say what we will about the evils of Facebook, but it has been a lifeline. I have been logged in continuously, searching for news that my friends are safe, shocked that the 'mark safe' feature should even be a thing. I am torn up inside, part joyful when I see another friend checking in, and part terrified every time another post shows up, begging for help finding a lost loved one. Two of my friends, both active in the LGBT community, have still not checked in. D contacted me a few weeks ago to ask if I was going to attend our high school reunion. It had been years since we last talked. I am desperate for him to reply to my message. Please be okay.