the worst thing about being talked about by someone else is when you don't know exactly who said the gossip. it's like having a faceless enemy, and the only thing you can do is keep living your life the best way you know how, and pray others won't judge you for it or misconstrue something perfectly innocent and harmless. it's interesting to me how relationships can be destroyed so easily on hearsay. of course, if that's all it takes to destroy a relationship, then i guess there wasn't much to it in the first place. interesting conclusion...
*j*
Monday, September 28, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Weird, I’m just plain weird.
So, I realized this morning that I have this weird habit of picturing the people around me in medieval times.
Yes, you did just read that.
I picture everyone around me in medieval times and wonder what they would be like.
Would they have survived?
Instead of the shop worker/laborer in our times, would they have been king back then?
I think this is rooted in the mere fact that I believe I was born in the wrong time period. So I guess I like to think on those times as much as any historian with an obsession. Also, I’m an avid reader, and have always had a proclivity for the medieval and renaissance periods.
So, while in one of my numerous meetings this week, and stemming from the fact that Jen has been gone all week (I might be going a little mad), I started fantasizing about the people being time-warped into the past.
Like this huge bulky shop supervisor. He isn’t fat, just enormous in proportion. His hands are gigantic, his stature is imposing. He’s not a bad looking fellow either, and I was thinking that if he were in medieval times he would probably be some sort of gladiator or famous warrior that throngs of women worshipped or men followed into battle to die with.
But here in Pryor, OK in 2009, he is a shop worker, nothing all that significant about him except perhaps the missing potential I see of him having lived a thousand years ago.
What am I in this fantasy of the past?
I think I would be either the puppeteer behind a politician of those times. You know, like Guinevere to the King Arthur. I would be the real brains and savvy behind the reign. (Ahem…Minus the little infidelity part with Lancelot…) Or I would be like Joan of Arc, and be a national heroine, with no holds barred, willing to die for my convictions.
But here in Pryor, OK in 2009, I’m a glorified secretary. Yes, I’m not afraid to admit it. I’m everyone’s gopher. But hey, you got a question about Excel, I’m your girl. (I’m just hiding the sword underneath my blouse.)
\m/
Yes, you did just read that.
I picture everyone around me in medieval times and wonder what they would be like.
Would they have survived?
Instead of the shop worker/laborer in our times, would they have been king back then?
I think this is rooted in the mere fact that I believe I was born in the wrong time period. So I guess I like to think on those times as much as any historian with an obsession. Also, I’m an avid reader, and have always had a proclivity for the medieval and renaissance periods.
So, while in one of my numerous meetings this week, and stemming from the fact that Jen has been gone all week (I might be going a little mad), I started fantasizing about the people being time-warped into the past.
Like this huge bulky shop supervisor. He isn’t fat, just enormous in proportion. His hands are gigantic, his stature is imposing. He’s not a bad looking fellow either, and I was thinking that if he were in medieval times he would probably be some sort of gladiator or famous warrior that throngs of women worshipped or men followed into battle to die with.
But here in Pryor, OK in 2009, he is a shop worker, nothing all that significant about him except perhaps the missing potential I see of him having lived a thousand years ago.
What am I in this fantasy of the past?
I think I would be either the puppeteer behind a politician of those times. You know, like Guinevere to the King Arthur. I would be the real brains and savvy behind the reign. (Ahem…Minus the little infidelity part with Lancelot…) Or I would be like Joan of Arc, and be a national heroine, with no holds barred, willing to die for my convictions.
But here in Pryor, OK in 2009, I’m a glorified secretary. Yes, I’m not afraid to admit it. I’m everyone’s gopher. But hey, you got a question about Excel, I’m your girl. (I’m just hiding the sword underneath my blouse.)
\m/
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