So right now I'm operating at less than optimum efficiency. I'd really rather be in a nice soft dark warm cubicle, rather than the hard, brightly-lit veal-pen that I'm in.
I'd truly like to be all deep and contemplative, but my contemplation organ is feeling a little under the weather today, so you get a break from all my angsty goodness.
The snow from yesterday is gone. There was frost, and a reminder that I need to get a winshield scraper/brush since I left mine up in Minneapolis like a dork.
Okay, one little bit of angstiness:
This morning I woke up to my clock radio saying to me "when she stops loving you, it's over. There's nothing you can do to fix it". Full of gravitas. Mancow in a serious moment.
And in that half-awake highly suggestive state, I knew that it was true, that She really didn't love me anymore, and that I needed to just give up and move on.
Then I woke up completely and thought "wait a minute, something is wrong here...".
The weirdness of it was that the woman who had stopped loving me in my imagination was a composite of a number of women in my life. I don't know if this composite-woman was someone who I had been dreaming about, or some sort of Jungian archetype that was invoked by the words from the clock radio, but the analytical part of me finds it interesting that I would create the "perfect" woman out of components of women friends. Kind of Frankensteinish.
She was cute, too.
Is it meaningful? Hell, I don't know. I think it might be in a very abstract way. The things that I find attractive in my women friends are the things that I want in the perfect woman, but that's not really news then, is it?
Then that whole perfect woman concept is a myth.
It takes several women to be perfect.