Setting: Taco Bell drive-through.
Me: “I’ll have a #1 with a normal taco and a Diet –”
TB: “Okay, I have a #1 with a soft taco and a Diet Pepsi. Anything else?”
Me (annoyed): “No. Listen, please.”
TB (pause): “I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
Me: “A #1, with a normal taco instead of a Taco Supreme, and a Diet Pepsi.”
The drive-through operator apologized again. I pulled to the window, where I apologized for snapping.
I’ve worked fast food. I know it can be tough. But is it too much for me to expect them to listen to my order?
“Weaksauce.” I’d heard it before, but it never really registered until I saw it in print in a Wired blog entry. As I thought about it, I realized I’d also heard “awesomesauce,” and “crapsauce” in conversation over the years.
Www.urbandictionary.com (occasionally NSFW) that online bastion of proper word usage, relates “weak sauce” to Taco Bell sauce packets and “awesome sauce” to the online animated character Strong Bad.
As a HomeStarRunner fan, I like the latter, but I can see where the former fits. After all, any Taco Bell sauce is crapsauce compared to the awesomesauce that is Taco John’s Superhot.
NaNoWriMo scares me. I’ve registered for it three years in a row, but produced nothing more than a title. Meanwhile, friends have cranked out three draft novels each. Good ones, even!
There are alternatives, though. I know a man who started his own short-lived group: LoShoStoWriMo (Local Short Story Writing Month.) That’s much more my speed. In my busy life, I’m not sure I can pull off the 1,666 word daily average required for NaNoWriMo, but I bet I can write a short story in a month.
The real question is this: Will I have the guts to submit it?
Is it possible to have too many hobbies? Too much to do? Can I become so entangled in commitment that I reduce my capacity to absorb, countering my efforts to grow?
I live in a world of instant communication (or at least connection), with HD-this, G-Twit that, and www.TheOtherThing.com, and to a geek like me, it all seems very bright, shiny, and irresistible. Everything is iDesirable, 3G-licious, and I’d give my eye-bluetooth to have it all.
In the drive to expand my digital horizons, can my internal structure collapse under its own weight?
This morning’s panic attack tells me, “Yes.”
She leaves me a voice mail. Halfway through, she breaks down, crying,
complaining that no one is helping her, no one is telling her what to
do. I feel my blood pressure rise with the pitch of her sobs, but I
don’t feel compassion. I feel angry, manipulated, like I need to
take care of a situation that she’s created herself.
Guess what, sis? You’re almost 54 years old. No one should have to
tell you what to do. You need to fight your own battles.
Later, I’ll feel guilty for my anger. But right now, it just … is.