capitulate the physical body, and just live.

i took claire's advice and ran until my legs shook and my heart felt as though it was pounding out of my chest (when in actuallity, i did not run very far - 2 miles, maybe? - note to self - quit smoking). i felt like a horse. such a large animal with distinct muscles that one can acknowledge when shifted. while running, i felt this metaphor in action.

a few random things. a neighbor (which of course, this is the one and only title that links us together) waved at me from his back yard porch. such an odd place to propose a confrontation. maybe he was just friendly, like all of my neighbors are. such "good" people they are. also, i noticed a large cluster of fungus growing on the side of a wooden wall near my driveway. in anger, i kicked it.

while on the drive home from somewhere, i tuned in to wqed pittsburgh's classical station. radio is rare (for me). i held a conversation with a certain someone who was not physically present in the car with me, though i felt like if i spoke out loud, maybe he could hear my thoughts. i asked him questions about life that have been running through my head recently. i told him everything. i poured.

back to the whole jogging idea. why do i do it?

is this whole 'hardly eating-excessive cigarette smoking- sometimes i feel like running' diet in action to benefit me, or possibly the consumers? or is this another power hungry attempt at perfection (which occurs more often than one would think)?

perfection is unattainable; which is why it is so damn appealing to me.

i work nearly forty hours a week now. i am a slave to the work force, constrained to passavant with a ball and chain. it is not the manual labor or long hours which are difficult, (trust me, i consume my spare time with low sodium rice puffs and sugar free cocoa) it is the fact that i possess no universal common sense. i make the lame mistakes that no one else makes, such as misplacing the puree meats. when i am caught in the mistake, the nurses look at me like i am an idiot - causing me to actually feel like an idiot. this isn't right. i can't help it if i was brought up a certain way. my knowledge permeates in the surreal world, not the world where people pump gas and pay with debit (both of which were major challenges for me). my grammar is much better than those 'just out of nursing school because there was nothing else to do with my life' nurses. when i am serving food, they look at me as though i am some kind of rich perfectionist snob, taking several minutes to arrange the food in an appealing and convenient way. ha! why do i even care what they think of me. they are from the slums of ellwood which cannot be found on our maps. what do they know of the culinary arts?

well, i am done ranting. or writing. whichever you prefer.