Skip to main content

Felt Like A Friday

I think a chapter in my memoirs (exposé?) will be titled "Felt Like A Friday." It's something that happens enough in my life that I think I need to give some credence to it in the story of me. Or something like that.

If you found that thing and still made your way back here today, bravo. And thank you.  I'm not really sure what that was. Oh..yeah..I mean other than a little piss and moan about being in pain. Which...still seems to be the norm. I never understood what a bitch chronic pain could actually be.

I woke up this morning feeling pretty good. Somewhere between a 1 and 2 on the pain scale, which is to say, after recent months felt like a 0 on the scale. By the time I was 3/4 of the way to work, though, it was back to the standard 3-4 that has been the norm.

But I can't describe what it was like to not feel that. Even for a couple of hours. If I was a betting man, I'd say it's a sign from the Universe that I need to somehow, someway move ahead with the surgery and hope for the best. I need to meet a couple more surgeons, though, because the one I've got is kind of a prick.

Friday. It fucking felt like Friday all day today. I mean I got a lot done was busy. It was just weird. I wonder what in our brain triggers us to think of the 'feel' of a day. As though the actual day were somehow different in someway other than name.

This is going to be another short one. After cutting my finger nails somewhere between the first and second sentence in preparation for a whirl-wind writing session.

That is not to be. I'm tired. The hustle and bustle of the day having finally caught up and demanding of the ransom due them.

So, this will not be a long, thoughtful post. It will instead be another 'hidden' post. Find it without a link from FB and you too can feel smarter than all of your friends.

And with that, I'm dragging my tired ass to bed.

Peace out!


Popular posts from this blog

Marriage Material??

I had a friend call me today, fuming. I consider myself a good listener on most days. Considering that I was out of town on a work trip and doing absolutely nothing in my hotel room, my listening game was on-point.

She recounted the exchange that sent her off. I will spare you some of the more personal details, but the gist was, at one point, the dude-bro she was talking to flat out told her that she wasn’t marriage material.

Torn between wanting to be a supportive friend and being completely gobsmacked, I felt her frustration. No. That’s not quite right. I didn’t feel the same frustration she felt. I’m approaching what some consider middle age. I’m white. I’m primarily interested in women. Oh, and I have a penis., I can never truly feel the same frustration she was feeling. Or an anger that comes from the same place her anger came from. No matter how in touch I am witn my feminine side (whatever the fuck that actually means).

Instead, the frustration and anger I was feeling w…

Post Con-Fusion

It's 5:40 AM on a Wednesday. I have been up for an hour. I have an outline for a work in progress that I intended to work on this morning. I was in the middle of a chapter that I started at lunch and had every intention of continuing this morning. But, much like me, it seems the characters wanted to sleep in today. They wanted to just hunker under the covers as the rain danced its hypnotic melody on my roof. The swoosh swoosh swoosh of the ceiling fan keeping time with the rest of the nocturnal orchestra.

So, I shifted gears. I am taking  a course on getting more words on the page. Something that I want to do need to do if I am to get all of these books that are floating around in my head out in to the world. It's not so much that I think the whole world will love and adore them, although I certainly hope that is the case. No, it's more the fact that it's getting crowded up there. I need to get these words on the page for my own sanity as much as anything else.


The Kindness of Strangers

This post is going to be a little bit all over the place. If you know me, you are probably used to that by now. If you don't know me, welcome. My name is Todd. I'll be your slightly insecure author and docent on this tour of randomness we call Todd's Mind.

I am going to get a little real, and probably a little raw here today. I would normally be terrified of that. Of exposing myself to the world at large. But in looking at the stats for this blog in the 22weeks or so since I've left Facebook, the reality, I'm exposing myself to about 10 of you. Less if some of you come back and re-read some of the posts. So...yeah. Here goes.

I can count on 1 finger the number of times including today where I have run out of gas. Not talking about pulling into the gas station on vapors, but actually having the car die and coast to a stop because that life-giving dead dinosaur juice was no longer in the tank.

One time.


It's my own fault. I don't like to admit when I&#…