sometimes the smallest things...

it really is the little things, o beloved non-existent readers.

it's the "fuck this, i've had it!" escapism drive down i-95 at speeds in excess of 70 mph in the interceptor with rainer maria emoting "you just can't turn me on and off" and the sun shining through the window and the ac blowing ice cold.

it's the pleat in a pair of my dressy pants and the looks i draw as i walk to my class (hey, i'm happily married, i aint dead! everyone still wants to feel sexy, right?) to knock the kiosk presentation i have been unduly stressed about out of the fucking park like a grand slam homerun that wins the pennant.

it's the final project for autocad 3d that won't be easy but won't really be hard either and for which i have already picked my subject.

it's the friend of mine from my pictorial drafting class that says, "you wanna do the final project as a team?" which i do. and while the teams have to do more work total than the individuals, if you divide it evenly between two people, it ends up being less than you would have to do if you did the project alone. we will be designing a bar/club for the international space station, since he wanted to do a bar, and i wanted to continue with my space theme.

these tiny things become the real life equivalents of a sit down on a hard stool and a bag of ice for my bruised face, and i know that i will be ready to step back into the ring at the bell and take a few more hits.

and what is funny is i used a line from rainer maria's song "catastrophe" for my post about being on the ropes, when in reality i should've used something from this song by them:

southpaw, by rainer maria

Cracked knuckles, and my fists
are bandaged up for the fight.
Am I ready?
There's the bell.
How many rounds can I go?
And how can soften the blows?
Can I avoid them altogether?

But my heart isn't in this.
I'm supposed to be a seasoned fighter.
It feels like my first hit.
(and it hurts like...)
I didn't see this coming anyway.
(yeah, it hurts like hell)

So don't tell the crowd...

Black eyes, black threads, and bandages for the fight.
Who are the odds on,
me or him?
How many tricks do I know?
And how can I soften the blows?
Or can I avoid them altogether?

But my heart isn't in this.
I'm supposed to be a seasoned fighter.
It feel like my first hit.
(and it hurts like...)
I didn't see this coming anyway.
(yeah, it hurts like hell)

So don't tell the crowd,
but I'm gonna let my guard down.
You're the only one now.

My heart isn't in this.
I'm supposed to be a seasoned fighter.
(I'll let you take me)
It feel like my first hit,
and it hurts like hell.
(I'll let you take me)
Black eyes, black threads, and bandages.
(I'll let you take me)
It feels like my first hit,
and it hurts like hell.
(I'll let you take me)
My heart isn't in this.
I'm supposed to be a seasoned fighter.

thanks for playing along.

darth sardonic