Friday, January 12, 2007
Long Sentences Are For Level-Headed People
Deep breathing, deep breathing.....
Okay. I feel a bit better. It's possible that I was ranting during that last post. No, in fact, it's quite likely. Ranting. Yes. That sounds about right. I assure you though, I am feeling far less like killing someone or smashing something with a mallet, and far more like drinking tea.
Which is what I am doing.
Let's discuss.* I have this belief that sometimes when things are going well, life needs to put you through the shitter. It needs to take all that nice mushy good stuff and kick the living Carebear out of it. But even if I'm not surprised when things go terribly wrong, I don't get all that excited about it either. Getting put through a symbolic cheese grater sucks, especially when you've been having a nice week. It's even gotten to the point where, if everything has been going beautifully for an unusually long time, I start to get nervous. I actually start to wonder where the Carebear-kicking psychotic kitten-stealing vibes are. How paranoid of me.
Anyhoo, one source of my new found calm is the fact that I may have found a potential solution to my urgent must-install-expensive-pickup-onto-my-
One option was to bus down to the store where I bought it, try to stay relaxed and level-headed, but ultimately end up crying and yelling because I didn't get enough sleep and I really don't need the extra strain and why didn't they just tell me I needed a freaking soldering iron in the first place when I could have picked one up myself and avoided the hassle, and besides, who says "Oh, yes, you could TOTALLY install this yourself!" to a trusting customer when in fact NOBODY but the brains who invented the thing could accomplish such a feat, and besides, I didn't even get very good service when I tried to buy the pickup anyway because the staff was all chatting up the latest Blink 456 wannabe band or some shit who probably suck really bad anyways and have likely never even seen a banjo, let alone tried to buy a pickup for one... ?
But I didn't like that option, because I don't like to cry and yell all that much, especially in music stores which are infamous wiener-fests and really not all that cozy or understanding.
Then one of my darling roommates pointed out that her father is not only a banjo player, but also a mechanical engineer. And he loves to solder! Am I grinning? Yes. Yes I am.
*And by discuss I mean let me write at you in the hopes that you will not fall asleep at your desk or table or into your own lap.