whine and cheese

:: sigh ::

There is a lot to think about when you’re alone. I’ve been spending so much time with my family lately, that I have no time to think for myself or about myself. It’s overwhelming to have peace for a moment. So in the past hour of being all alone, I think about the lack of real love I have in my life. Sure, my family and my friends love me, but I’ve never had the feeling of loving someone else. I want it, desperately. I keep thinking that every new place I wander in - maybe, just maybe, he’ll be there. It will be cosmic, all the stars will align, flowers will bloom, birds will chirp, ya know all that good stuff. I’m getting older, and well I’m wondering if it’s ever going to happen. I know it must be my fault, a vibe I give off. I’m working on it. I guess I’ll always be a work in progress, I just need to find someone who doesn’t mind.

Sorry for spitting out crap. I’m over it now, I think.

-d

“Cheer up, Charlie!”

So as I am avoiding my inevitable work, I’m also watching Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. I love this movie with the exception of the “weeeee” part when Charlie and Grandpa Joe are drinking the fizzy lifting drink - that part to this day weirds me out. Anyway, this is just a thought that occurred to me.

If Charlie is supposed to “cheer up,” this would have significantly changed the outcome of this story. Now this is only in reference to the first movie version, but Charlie at this point knows that all five tickets have been found. He’s upset and as he’s walking with his head down (in the dumps, if you will) he spots that extra money in the storm drain. If Charlie wouldn’t have been upset and cheerful instead, he may have never found that extra money to purchase the Wonka Bar with the golden ticket. Am I saying (or singing) “head down, Charlie”? No, but if you think about it a sour mood changed the boy’s life. Now Charlie can cheer up! Maybe timing is everything?

Oompa-loompa.

Hoarders: Buried Alive

I have to admit that I keep a pretty neat space. I’m not obsessive about cleaning, but I do my dishes and make sure that there are no miscellaneous items strewn across the floor of my apartment. I manage to throw away things that are no longer necessary, and I give away things like clothing once they’ve “lived out their fashionable lives” in my closet. However, there is one thing I hoard — email.

Guilty as charged. I may very well be a cat lady in a moo-moo dress with curlers in my hair watching as a TV crew walks into my Gmail account home and gasps at the site. Last time I checked, there were over 10,000 emails, of which approximately 7,000 were never even read. Thanks, Old Navy, Bloomingdale’s, Bath and Body Works…(the list goes on.) Junk emails. But, can’t I just delete them? No — that’s a part of my disease! I want the “Delete all” function, but there may be an email or two (or twenty) that are relevant.

My name is Drew and I have a problem. HELP. SOS. **shoots off flare gun into the sky**.

Until next time…

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