chunking my blog

as is tradition, i’ll be damn glad when january is over. ugh, this month! what is it about this month?

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everytime i’m in the kitchen slicing a lot of something, i think about that late series episode of Dawson’s Creek in which Pacey is working in the restaurant owned by that kind of jerky rich guy. he’s given a bushel of potatoes and told to slice them as thinly as he can. after something like a month of slicing bowl upon giant bowl of potatoes he finally has a Pacey-style hissy fit and is all “why am i slicing all these goddamn potatoes?!” and his dick boss hands him a dish and says “so you don’t waste these super-expensive truffles”.

i don’t know why i think of that, but i do. then i think about how that was kind of a pivotal moment for Pacey as he finally found something he was willing to suffer through to the end because it was like he knew cooking was going to be the one thing he was really good at. lucky for him he found someone to teach him.

btw, i may have that all completely wrong, but it’s how i remember it. so there.

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seriously, why do you people like me?

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i haven’t been to the gym since…early october? maybe late september. i can practically feel my muscles turning into fat. i have so many owies it’s like i’m 80 when i try to get out of bed at 5am. you’d think that would inspire me to get back to it, right? you’d be wrong. besides the fact that i barely have enough energy to get from work to home and from the car to a supine position on my new couch means that just the thought of — shudder — exercise exhausts me. then all the ow which i know will come from abusing what’s left of my muscles… ugh. no thanks.

seriously, they’re not kidding when they say the hardest part of working out is just getting in the gym.

i’m trying to gear myself up mentally for it. but… that’s three hours less kitten time per week! how could i ever survive?

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speaking of kittens, i think they’ve broken me.

pre-cats i was a sucker for animal and senior welfare, but now i seem to be some total pansy-ass compassionate do-gooder. or at least i would be if i weren’t too scared to talk to strangers.

it just seems that i’m suddenly finding myself being empathicly drawn to people and creatures which seem to be in distress. and, if i can’t actually help them, find myself getting all sniffly and worrying about them long past my observation of them.

last week, i saw a pigeon in distress while i was driving back to work after lunch. i cried all the way to the office because i couldn’t help it because i had to go back to the office.

yesterday, i saw this woman on the sidewalk being held tightly on the upper arm by a man. she wasn’t looking at him, but out at the cars driving by. i wanted to turn around and find some excuse to interrupt them to ascertain if she was being manhandled. later on my commute, a man was squatting down while holding a small black book against his face with the palms of his hands. it looked like he might be crying. i wanted to go back and ask him if he was okay.

but, i didn’t.

and i worry that makes me a bad person.

what’s worse? not noticing these things and feeling a compassionate need to assist or noticing & feeling but not doing anything but fucking blogging about it?