the simple life

Yawn.
Sleepy eyes, caffeinated open,
Imagining the warmth of my bed,
how it will welcome me home
when I fall into it, asleep, sleeping
curled into unconsciousness.
Head to pillow, I look forward.
Yawn.

~Time seems to have stopped 30 seconds after the last time I looked. I want time to hurry up already, but know this kind of wishing only brings the creeping of slower existence. So, I thought I would spend some time posting something about something...yeah, I got nothing.

My intentions today are to power sleep 8hours then babysit. I have to say I am enjoying the babysitting experience. I am watching an actual baby, pre 6months, so besides fulfilling her basic needs, we kind of stare at each other. I do appreciate the fact that the baby gets excited when I sing. She begins to coo right back at me. I think her personal favorite is "I Got a Frothy Mouth & am doing fine." I am glad to say that I am not a one-hit wonder though, having a successful follow-up of a cover by U2, "MLK" and an original, "Baby, I'm Changing Your Diaper as Fast as I Can".

Afterwards, if I am not pressed to get more sleep before work, I want to go see my hairstylist at one of my favorite local bars with some friends. There is always good music playing there and someone stuck a "Vote for Pedro" sticker among all the graffiti and band stickers by the bar. That just brings a smile to my face whenever I see it...of course, so did the lecture I went to yesterday on Attachment Theory of Individuals, Groups, and Couples. I digress.

Apparently my hair stylist and her band are doing a CD release show at this bar. Sounds good to me. Music releases are a theme in my life lately. I won’t lie, I am very excited that she is back in town because I haven’t been able to find a decent hair stylist since she left. Yeah, I am not a vain person, but do appreciate a person who knows how to cut a decent du. I am very excited she’s back from Portland – like happy dance excited. This from the gyrl who spends most of her day in professional attire and having discussions about evidence-based practice and logic models. Little does the world know, I'm a groupie at heart for musicians and hair stylists.

Other then that, its work tomorrow night, sleep and then studying all day on Sunday at the library. This is my simple life.

Now back to pining for bed.

~GG

sleeves

Watching her sleeve move ever-so-lightly downward in a bent slouch as she reached up to pull the stop-signal cord on the bus, I remembered you. It was a long sleeve with a big cuff, oversized really, that when ‘laxed, fell comfortably around the palm ending appropriately at the beginning of the first set of knuckles. The cuff was sturdy and narrow, giving off the impression that it was a glove for the hand rather then the end of a shirt sleeve. When reaching, the sleeve casually with subtle lightness fell back to release the hand from the home it lived. I found myself surprised by how my heart worn weary on the edge of my own sleeve gave way to endearing love for hers.

You have been so forgotten for so long, lost between the louder rhythms panging in my head – studying for class, assignments due, and the tasky endeavor of creating a clinical program in hopes that a published paper may come out of the attempt; polishing my skills for the promotion at work and the preparations for the flight onwards. I treated you like a regimented cover, though weary, kept clean and spotless with that professional gleam I’ve been harboring. I forgot you hanging out exposed in my days, redirecting myself to more important things. But really I’ve never known how to work you, as evidenced by the sudden flutter from the simple movement of a stranger. You sang so loud it changed this cadence in self and all I wanted to do was remember you. Remember you.

pieces

I've randomly try and write poetry. Words on a page motivated out of words that just sound fun. I usually get a far as one stanza before I am done. Here is a collection of random pieces. I'm now going to go for a run...my brain hurts from studying too much. Peace ~GG

Unfurling
Spending time collecting self
Like an apron folded tight
Against the edge of a sunrise,
creeping through the windowsill.
All wound up, a clean clothe
Worn to scrap just sitting there,
Breaking threads unused
In their kept ness.
Its time to expand.
Its time to let go,
And go unfurling.

Echo Pitched Back
Standing at thresholds, the flesh pickled,
Eyes squinting to see the other side.
Sometimes even seers can’t see beyond
The echo pitched back.
What’s beyond this? What’s beyond this?

Untitled
Rusted thoughts creaking in the head
under bellied routine,
they squeak sharply
stranded in time,
to press beyond the conditional
condition she has gotten herself into.

moral incontinence. Incontinent in morals. The inability to keep oneself from morally getting wet. The inability to be a good gyrl, a good soul…straight maybe. The lack of moral character. The act of transgressing randomly without notice (my favorite). The act of uncontrollably failing to live up to ones own morals.

my day

I set up house at the coffee shop, preparing my day of study, after spending the morning in quiet communion in a circle, then cleaning the dust bunnies of clutter that collected in my home. I pop in a new CD – Chris Bathgate, Silence is for Suckers – as I sit in silence with this self. I begin to type an entry, wondering what I want to say, but my head feels constipated with used up thoughts. I struggle to put any words to the page. I go outside to get a sense of something outside. Watching this gyrl in the distance playing with her red umbrella in carousel twirls, up and down, over and around and around and around. Her goulashes spin, a wobbly rotation between her and the unsteady ground. Caught with her red umbrella between the rains today, she becomes a dancer in the chilled wind, content and impish in her childhood.

I am distracted by my favorite entrepreneur who has gone door to door trying to find a space for the bongo people, who want to play but have no home today. Her smile always catches between my chest and lungs; I want to strive to live life with as much bubble and joy that erupts from her. She tells me about the cracked glass and tile dreams she has for this coffee shop as inserts of insight unfold about the bongo people that has sent her out in this day. I smile in myself while muttering the words bongo people, bongo people, bongo people in my head. I want to keep saying it over and over again, my own carousel of spinning happiness.

I come inside and start again to prepare for my day. Studying the top of the list, writing the primer for the studiousness, I am not ready to put my nose in the book or the book up to my nose. I murmur bongo people, letting it bong from my lips. My neighbor smiles and I smile back. I’ve learn not to explain me. It’s just best to let it be.

Typing my page, I realize, though I haven’t moved any of my clogged-up thoughts, I have eased them with the color in a day, this day,
my day.

There You Are, I Whisper

A bluesy day, but I’m feeling good. Woke up and rolled out of bed, turning off NPR blaring at my head. I tell myself, I simply cannot wake up to the news, shaking off the dream where I was in the news commentary, so close to Bush I thought I could tell him to [knock it off already]. Maybe it’s time to go back to classical music or white noise instead of the news first thing, I think to myself as I turn on the water for the morning brewed coffee. Turn on the light in the bathroom and look at this self in the mirror. There you are, I whisper at the smile coming back at me.

I am the comfortable old blue jeans I put on, with the undershirt and dress shirt buttoned just above the chest. Hair brushed down, the one exercise in patience for the day; I drink my coffee while flipping through a magazine. Today is the autumn equinox and I spot the balance in it all.

I am coming into myself or towards a new chapter. Like a reader reading a good book, I am excited by my turn of the page. I smell something on the horizon, though not sure what it is, I do know its coming and for the first time, I’m pretty confident it’s gonna be the best thing that ever happened to me. There is no concrete rationale for the thought, no proof of what I sense; it’s just a dousing rod kind of hunch smiling right at me. ;)

Happy Autumn Equinox.

A Look Through the Window

This new internship is different then the last one in regards to feeling comfortable. Last year, the Community Center had a smaller number of folks working there and a more casual feel. Working at a Veterinary Hospital has a much different feel as I walk past numbers of people I have never met, have no clue what they are doing and in turn they know nothing about me. In part, I feel cushioned by this anonymity of a working crowd. I am one of a number of people. However, when it comes to being…oh the social worker sometimes it’s hard riding the periphery of this place. I am supposed to get the staff and clients comfortable with the idea that I am around for counseling services – particularly in a crisis situation. Sometimes I hover on the periphery waiting to see if I can help someone, wondering if I am the interloper watching. I personally know that I don’t feel comfortable being watched for emotional reactions to things. I’m always accessing where everyone’s comfort level is including my own. I am also taking liberties to simply ask people if my presence is needed. Now mind this, everyone at the Vet Hospital wants this service provided. This program benefits all involved to have a person on staff that can focus on the crisis stressors in a situation. With that said, I am the new one in a pretty established routine. I can liken it to being the new kid in school – awkward, isolating, exciting, and sometimes just plain weird.

Earlier in the day, I was processing myself in regards to these feelings. How does it feel to be the new kid? Am I pressuring myself to be at a level (Social Work skill wise) that takes time? What should I being doing today to take care of myself? You know the usual touchy feely, check in kind of stuff.

While doing this, a memory popped through my head of looking through the window of the 6th grade class when I was in 3rd grade. (I do this often). I went to an elementary school that was shaped like an L. On one wing was 1st thru 3rd with kindergarten the Caboose and 4th thru 6th in the other wing with the gym/cafeteria/auditorium the corner of the L. It was a big thing for 3rd graders to get excited about 4th grade because they we were moving into the next wing of the school. In a sense, it was our first right of passage where we were officially the big kids. Coming back to the story that came into my head, I remembered being in 3rd grade looking through the 6th grade window with a friend. We were watching the last grade in this school reading a selected novel in class. I remember the books were huge! They were thick and blocky, and gave off this intimidating presence of I AM A BIG BOOK! I can remember thinking how slightly intimidated I felt by watching them read. Though I was excited to some day be in the 6th grade and read that size book, I also had trepidations. How would I ever be ready to read something that size? I remembered that my friend and I talked about that. In kid form, we gabbed about what it would be like to be reading that book in 6th grade to look up and see 3rd graders watching us with amazement in their eyes.

I held this memory turning the corner of grades in our school, into fourth grade and beyond. I even remember reading those huge books in 6th grade realizing they weren’t so scary after all, and I wasn’t behind as I worried I would be. I use to look up in 6th grade out the same window wondering if there would be 3rd graders looking in.

The memory, like the true grace of universal lessons, reminded me that I am right were I am at right now in regards to my internship. I’m like the 3rd grader a little intimidated by this new world through the window, but knows soon enough I’ll be on the other side doing fine.

Well, I'm not actually a 3rd grader, more like a 30 year old intern at a Vet clinic....but I hope you get my point. :O).

As We Grow Further Away From Our President

I have been reading some really wonderful insights and responses to our government in world news and with 9/11. I wanted to pass along some links for others to check out, if you come by this way.

The Wisdom of Jimmy Carter and American 'Dolls' Write to Bush
Rodeo Clown at Ground Zero and Dust
Grudges
The Gospel According to St. George W. Bush

Top Ten List on a Late Thursday Night

I am at the library with a cohort from school. We are working on our first group project for a class, having those random conversations that go nowhere, and we all stop to ask each other, "how did we get here?" I just get a kick out of these types of conversations.

Here is our Top Ten List of Things We Wish We Were Doing Right Now:

10. Putting on our PJs
9. Snuggling
8. Watching random bits of TV (Grey's Anotomy is the top pick)!
7. Watching the previews for Grey's Anotomy
6. Eating a real meal (i.e., homemade and spicy).
5. Laying on the couch drooling while watching Grey's Anotomy
4. Preparing our graduation invites, instead of this presentation
3. Surfing the web to see if Grey's anotomy is spelled with an A or an E.
2. Laughing at someone else who thought it was a good idea to be in grad school.
1. Sleeping after watching Grey's Anotomy

It's All About The Techno: Please Standby

I’ve had a technologically yucky day. My internship office is not set up for internet access or printer access yet. I don’t even have a work computer there, so have become resigned to use my own in the office. This comes with an agreement that if my computer fails at work, it gets fixed and paid for by them. It’s not that the parties involved aren’t helping. This program is getting a lot of support from everyone, but we all are diving into the bureaucracy of working, so things take time. With that said, I have hit my limit of techno complications. I was about to throw out all my ideas and begin to think handwritten everything. The sad thing is, my typing is better then my handwriting and in the bigger scheme I am willing to wait through…going on 24 hours of works worth of waiting to not subject people to my scribble.

There was fun in all this though. I had email access for about 2 minutes where I wrote a friend an email, and then I lost the connection. We were all cheering our success only to form this communal sigh when I lost the connection. I laughed so hard. The beauty in life keeps me going. Eventually this will all be solved and I can move forward with my lit searches, prints, and it all. I won’t lie though, this hold up is frustrating. I find I am scheduling in more time to work out the bugs then doing my job, and all my patience doesn’t take away from the fact that my workload is heavier because of it. It’s times like these when I want to call all the technologically savy folks in my life and ask them to come in and just take care of it. Then buy them dinner.

I came home from the long day and immediately changed my clothes. There is something about putting on a new outfit that changes the energy of the body. I’m wearing college student casual this evening which consists of my favorite pair of corduroy and my university sweatshirt. I have the hood up at the moment ‘cause it makes me feel good. I did a little meditation where I exhaled the wiry frustrations of the day (it was a long exhale), and inhaled the energy I need to do the next to do on my task list, which is study.

I wanted to post about this tag that was in one of my new office drawers. It’s the code sticker and is already peeling. I wanted to write a little story about the life I imagine it will have, maybe peeling off slowly or getting ripped when the drawer closes. I even thought of an ending where its little numbered face was treading the floors of the Hospital on the bottom of a shoe, only to be a mysterious thing peeled off and thrown away at home. It was a cute little story in my head. That’s about all the time I have to write it though. I figure that little sticker deserved a few words, if not a whole story. Apparently my techno problems deserved most of the page tonight. I just think if I write about it, maybe it’ll go a little faster and I’ll be a little closer to taking it off the list….

If I Don't Move To London, it's 'Cause I Bought a Cat

Disclaimer: Free Thought Ramble that needed a public forum to be just as it is!


Wow! I tell you, my dayz are full. A good kind of full. What is taking up my time is…well school. My internship this year is at the University Veterinary Hospital. Yes, that’s right…an animal hospital. My job as a social worker is working with the clients who are in crisis. Those who have animals can probably attest that their pets are like family members. When we see them suffer or have to make really hard choices about life or death, sometimes its good to have someone in your corner listening, advocating, and offering resources. That’s where I come in. What I like about this particular internship is that this program is at the ground floor. I get to help develop this program, as well as develop evaluation protocols. I also get to hone my counseling skills in another setting outside of mental health organizations. In other words, I get to build skills I intend to use in my master plan to take over the world. Please stay tuned. :O).

I thought that this internship would curtail my need for a pet of my own, but I feel more wanting of a pet then ever before. Since I am moving to London I do not think this is a good idea at this time. About 2 years ago I helped to save an abandoned cat in winter. I wasn’t living a lifestyle conducive to cat care. I worked two jobs and traveled every month for the music company job. I did get this cat her shots and helped her care for 6 kittens she gave birth to. She was pregnant when she came into my charge. I believe that was why I came into her life. I found each one a good home, and made sure Mom was healthy. By the way, my cat’s name was Basil. I know, very cute. Unfortunately, I was not home enough to qualify as a good pet mom/owner/caregiver, albeit at the shelter, she wouldn’t have lived because of the pregnancy.

My goals were to get back to school, and I needed two jobs to make this happen. There is no GoGo Trust fund in my world or a GoGo Visa. It’s my dollar that gets me anywhere I want to go. I traveled for one job because it made the constant workload feel a little less heavy. I’ve lived in this State all of my life and knew in order to leave this State, I had to see the other ones. These were my goals at the time. I had friends take care of her while I was gone, but still how fair is it to the cat? Not very.

I’ve grown up with pets. Dogs, cats, rabbits… an abandoned goat. I was raised knowing what a good pet owner was, what animals needed, and the contract one has with a pet when one becomes a pet owner. With Basil, I was like the proverbial husband bringing home the bacon, but barely home for a good rub. It’s just an analogy…don’t go there.

This time around, I was not a good cat owner.

I did the next best thing and found her a good owner with 3 other cats to live with. I waited long enough for the kittens to be old enough to go to good homes, and gave her to this woman once all her kittens were gone. This was a very hard thing. I made the decision without telling my friends and then proceeded to mourn without telling anyone. When I say mourn, I mean every time I saw one of her forgotten toys, I balled! Every time someone asked me where Basil was, I gave the generic answer then cried later. I finally got to a place to ask myself, why am I not sharing this? I realized because I felt ashamed that I wasn’t ready to make room for a cat. I think I am in a place now where I can honor both the pet owner I want to be, the student I needed to become, and the part of myself who did help Basil through a transition. I also can say, I’m still certain I need to be in a settled place in my life or at least moving within the United States to own an animal.

I am glad I helped Basil, and still wish I could have been present with her. I know I want to take this big leap to London and it wouldn’t be fair to a cat or dog. I don’t want a goat. I also don’t think I could ever give up a pet again…I want to be in a place where we’re together until one of us dies.

I’m not marrying the cat, I’m just saying.

Anyway, I am excited about the internship. I’m surprised it’s brought up herstory of mine. I find my time busy right now with it all, but I’m enjoying this experience. It’s given me a place to learn at the professional level, while healing/connecting/being at the self level.

I still miss you, Baze.

~ GoGo

Prickly Finger Tips Touching Orange Blossoms

Fall came poring down today under gray sky and cold wind. I wake after a long day of sleep between work shifts and go for a walk. Though the day gives off a sense of glooming, I feel none of it, contented by the themes of autumn unfolding. I finally get to wear that sweater, wrapping my feet in hiking shoes, and head covered. My memory walks down lanes of Apple Festivals, football games, autumn hikes and bond fires. My mind remembers how much I have loved fingers exposed to the prickly cold of autumn’s chill, palms rubbed frantically and then held to the mouth for rushing spurts of warm breath on finger tips.

I come home to a house full of Japanese Lanterns dangling from my mantel. On this fall day, I welcome the orange blooms. On this day, I am filled with joy and awe. I am also busy beyond belief and my tiredness may be influencing my disposition. I take reprieve in simply enjoying the beauty of today and this self.

Hmm. I guess this is me scribbling a love note for this moment. Seems about right.

Post Number 240

Post Number 240

I don’t know why I am on this page, having nothing to say.
Acting the adult throughout this day,
Then cut out during the early evening
and let myself play.

Projects already coming due,
That presentation. The paper.
Internship tomorrow,
Then work the next day.

I’m gearing up for busy.
Gearing up, but still not ready
To commit to staying this way.
~ ~

Someone asked me this evening,

“You working on your own story?”

The response,

unspoken, but spoken in my head said,

“Who the fck knows.”

Whatever I’m doing here,

is just something I got to do.

It doesn’t fit this career forming,

the Social Worker,

therapist,

doesn’t fit with this

clandestine writer

scribbling bobbles about her day.

Don’t get me wrong,

I am committed to getting that piece of paper –

that Master’s hanging over my desk.

Yet, I know there is no absolution

for the other half of me

who likes scribbling away –

for all she has to say.

I’m a simple girl.

I can only hold a few

solid

projects happening at once.

School, internship and work

are about all I can handle on this plate,

yet

if I could just refocus this energy

I put on this page,

I’d start writing that story

that’s always brewing in my head.

Hmm.

Then I smile

as I look at my sidekick pile of things

that I need to do tomorrow

and how time just pushed me into later –

resigned to what’s been written

is about all I have in me today.

Until then, I guess this is my story I’m working on.

You'll Be The Teacher & I'll Be the Lesson

Getting out of the car, one foot in front of the other, I kick up dust while locking the door. I capture children’s laughter in the air while heading inside. The day feels dry like crispy autumn leaves and there is a smell of burnt coals wafting from somewhere. I feel contentment in my day. Waking up to a late morning from a later night at an impromptu party where the conversation flowed and the music played, I spent the morning getting the bug out of my craw that said, “The sunroom MUST be cleaned today.” Two cups of coffee and a few hours later, I have taken my sunroom back from the leftovers of summer’s fun. I left my home feeling right with the world, looking forward to reading in the fading sun of fall in this room.

I head out to visit with a friend. We drink more coffee and spend our time punting philosophical contemplations back and forth. This is a unique friendship – rare, familiar, and I would never have had just a few years ago. We pick up our feet and go to the park, walking the new path. I show her where a friend and I road our bikes down and up hills, and she showed me where her grandchildren use to play. Laughter sent me home, tired from the long day cleaning and relaxing.

Came home, where we started this entry, and made some dinner, while checking the emails from the day’s past. I still have 4 chapters to read for class tonight, but wanted to scribble some words before getting into that devout student role again. I’m listening to Nervous but Excited, a band that I am sure will do just fine. I was going to start this post writing about music. I wanted to say that I have quite enjoyed live music in my life. I have had the luck of meeting so many traveling musicians while in the process of writing their songs. I’m no groupie and musicians who are my friends know I am very precarious about any friendship that leads down that path, but I do enjoy the opportunity of experiencing music as it is formed. I am a storyteller who surrounds herself with storytellers in many forms…music one medium. I am happy to say this about myself and know it as a truth. I am excited to see how this will continue to play out in my life, in London, and beyond. Ah, but as I now reread this I realize I’ve rambled a loop around my day. Its time to let go of loosened thought and get those chapters out of the way.

Good Night,

~GoGo

P.S. This entry was written while listening to Blessings from the band, if you want to know the background in this post. I can't get enough of that song. :O).

Community of Spirit

Having time to shed some words on this page, I wonder what’s present with me tonight. My mind goes down a spiritual path, collecting perspectives and want. That seems to be a theme that has flared up again these days – spiritual synergy. I’ve come to place in my journey where I can look back on my own religious experience with both fondness and understanding. Religion has been disabused of any sense of "God’s" authority, and I find no comfort in doctrines or Parish that blindly believe a text as divinity, nor the assumption of one god genderized. And yet, I hold my own spiritual aspects as a part of me that has walked with me from birth. I am a person who takes comfort from the notion I have a spirit to nourish.

Over the course of the past few years, an innate part of self has been looking++ for a community to share in this spiritual aspect of my journey, having visited++ well respected friends churches just ruminating with the question, "Does this really feel right?" I’ve read friends perspective on spirit, allowing a teaching from the shared experience, always asking "Does this feel right?"

I am no Christian, though I do honor my experiences growing up. My mind wanders down old corridors of the church I went to growing up. I look fondly on the pictures of Jesus hanging on the wall, including the one I called 3D Jesus knocking at a door. Seriously, it was a 3 dimensional pose all pious and jumping out at you. There was also a velvet back light portrait of JC praying on the mount. A black light shown through from the back illuminating the moon and and his face as he looked upward praying to his God. Oh, but my favorite was the corn seed colleague hanging in the coat room. It was a picture of Christ’s hands while various colors of light permeated out - completely made out of a variety of corn seed colors making a picture. I remember making a macaroni necklace for my Mom as a kid and being very disappointed that it didn’t turn out as well-crafted as that picture.

The church I grew up in was very small. A one room parish with basement, a residual from when the area was farmland. The outside was token white with a modest belfry and a simple cross on top. The pews took up the entire room, with exception of two walk-ways on either side and the alter in front. The stain glass windows were abstract and closed off the view, except in the summer when they were cracked to let in the sounds of the katydids beckoning us kids to go out and play already. The whole room stayed a constant shrine to farm-folk piety, except for the alter cloth that changed to the Christian Seasons - purple, white, gold, and black. I don’t remember when and what the meanings for the colors were.

Though I have no intention of ever living the Christian life again, I look back fondly of the experience as it was. Remembering when my sister, brother and I take turns ringing the bell to call in the parish. The numbers were small – very small – five being the usual number. I remember reading the scriptures for the reverend or kids week when we taught Bible study to the adults. I can remember reading a trivia question wrong, thinking Jesus had 8 siblings instead of Jessie (sp). Yeah, I argued with the parish, until I realized I read it wrong. Too bold even at a young age.

I also remember the hymnals, my favorite was "Christian Soldiers" loving the melody. As time grow on, the words did not sit right though – "Onward Christian Soldiers marching onto War." The division in me growing as what I was being taught was contradictions in understanding God. One moment to be Christian was to love and in another I was a soldier in his army. I remember asking questions, and getting no sense of truth. As a kid, having no language to express my restriction of understanding, the picture of God continued to remove itself from any spiritual sense of growth. I have the words now to express to myself the stunted growth of the teachings taught to us, that cut my soul off from understanding and asked me to blindly except the fact. Three things removed me from this Church and sent me walking years of disconnection with the spirit in order to heal – the church would not celebrate Earth Day, they began to ask me to be submissive to gender roles, and they asked me to fear something I should love. Living out the experience of fear and love in my daily life, I was pretty convinced this was a role I was not going to break bread with any longer.

But here I am at the end of my page, reflecting on what was my past as is, and where I am at today. I cannot get around the knowing that I am a spiritual person...personal and my own, but still wanting a sense of community to grow this part in. In this flare-up of a community of spirit*, I have come to a place where I may have found a place, if only to rest my feet for a moment while I walk my path.

++Referencing old entries
*You can read Rumi's Community of Spirit with this link. Its my fave, so I thought I'd share again.

Mad Hater Rampage on the Page

How is Spam mail able to send me spam with my own email address?

No, seriously. I got an email from me to me that wanted to let me know that being overweight can be empowering once I bought a fat reducing pill to take care of it. Not only was it SPAM, it was like SPAM slapped me in the face because I’d never tell anyone something like that. Never. How many other people are getting GoGo on a Page anti-fat empowerment crap in their inbox?!

I am sure there is some computer techy answer about the html missing an l and having too much T or something, and I really don’t want to know in the end. I appreciate computer savy people because they get a world I only like to brush lightly with my finger tips. I’ll save delving for a few other worlds I like to hang in.

With that said, the person(s) who came up with the idea of generating junk mail must have been a pretty smart person(s). With that kind of talent, all they could come up with is SPAM!

The whole process is named after reprocessed meat, people!

With this kind of ability, I’d send spam mail that said "Stop the Irag War" not buy Viagra ‘cause it makes your dead willy grow. Maybe I’d write little fortunes for the person like "today you will open email and tomorrow you will do the same", not let you know some inside trade deals that are so Bogus even the CEO of Enron couldn’t pull it off.

Please note, when I capitalize a word, it means you should emphasize that letter while reading...so bogus wouldn’t be bogus....it would BBBO’gus. Just in case you wanted to crack my poor grammar skills. And yes, when I write SPAM all caps, it means you should read it like Emeril Lagasse says BAM. Just so you know.

I know this whole post is a sarcastic rant...I just don’t like that somewhere out there in the world, someone might have just read an email by GoGo that promotes buying a pill to feel empowered about the self. What’s worse, there is nothing I can do about it.

AND, I was really excited to see I had sent myself an email, only to find out I was SPAMED!

Thanks for reading my mad hater rampage on the page. I feel better just getting off my chest.

and yes, I know spam has nothing to do with html...i think. ;O)

Why I'm Moving to London

~They have a really good transportation system that is affordable and I won't need a car
~They have affordable transportation to other countries
~Whenever I have to find resources for clients, I always find that the UK is on top of the issue.
In fact, I've found more webpages for UK services then in the U.S. Seems reflective of a place I want to live. Their webpages look better...that really has nothing to do with anything, I'm just saying.
~Anne Boleyn was able to rock the kingdom from the top and got her daughter to be queen. I just want to walk through this history.
~Channel 4. Film buffs will know what I am talking about.
~They speak English, but I can travel cheaply to Spain to practice my Spanish.
~They have classes that are affordable to practice my Japanese.
~The history I will be walking through
~Environmentally ahead of the US
~Socially conscious
~Most people don't like Bush either
~I want to live outside the US for a minute and work.
Well, I'd prefer not to work, but have long since come to the understanding that for me to travel, the ole work ethic is involved.
~Fantastic Queer Community
~I'll be the first person in my family who went to college, then got her masters then went to live abroad.
~I believe my professional career in Social Work will benefit from working in London (i.e., the experience I can bring back for my clients).
~One word: Discotech
~Two words: Bloody hell
~And the list really goes on...