Friday

Nov, 2, 2001

I should be glad

The scale says I weigh 183 pounds this morning. I try again and it says 182 as if it is afraid of the truth. The food wasn't that good. I didn't have dessert. Must be the Jason's. Or all the Halloween candy.

I was dreaming last night, I think, of people who are dead now.

I should be glad it's the weekend. I should be glad that I have such a wonderful life. That I can go cast my futile vote for mayor and local propositions and amendments to the messed up Texas Constitution.

And, of course, I am. Glad. Happy. Sort of.

I work. I don't seem to work. But what I'm trying to do coalesces gradually. That's good.

I vote. Yeah. Early voting. I have to leave early on election day. Besides I like to vote early now that you can do so without an excuse.

Get to go to the grocery store (Randall's) and try out a new electronic voting system. I feel a little cheated although at least there is no hanging chad. Did it really know I voted? Is it running on Windows? How do you boot this thing? You go through the usual paperwork with the retired election judges and then get a code printed out by a small device. You use it to vote on a tablet that's about 8 1/2 by 16. They give you an 'I voted' sticker. This is the first time I've worn a flag. That isn't a flag with a Palm device...it's a flag with the voting tablet in the middle of it. When you are done and finish off your ballot, it thanks you with a waving flag. FFP voted at Central Market. They didn't have this.

After I vote, I buy some sodas on sale for the holiday entertaining. Then I'm hungry.

I decide to go to Sonic. I think I'll be sorry when I'm actually confronted with a Super Sonic Cheeseburger and tater tots. (Hey, I got the diet Coke.) But I'm not. I happily eat it all, dripping mustard on my shirt. So now I have mustard and a flag sticker with what looks like a Palm in the middle. I am an official dork.

After work, I go home and change out of my dork shirt (with mustard and sticker) and dress more nicely. We go to a party. It's an event leading up to the opera next week. Faust. The conductor (a Viennese guy, young with big biceps) is interviewed by the general and artistic director. Then we hear some bits from a CD. Should be a good production. I have really started to appreciate opera.

We go home. And sit in our chairs. I read my papers. And...doze. I have been a slug lately.

Whatever else is on my mind. Slips it now...

"We are all born originals - why is it so many of us die copies?"

Edward Young, poet (1683-1765)

Meta:
Business as usual here as much as you can ever say that.

JUJUST TYPING
Happy.
Or sad.
Is it arbitrary?
Is sad.
Self-defense?
Staying wary.
Of happy?