day break--not what you think

I have recently discovered that my work week is nothing but an accumulation of extra time. I start my week thinking, how much time can i build up to leave early? Is that healthy? Is that my unconscious telling my conscious it's time for a change already? Could I ask myself more questions in this blog?
I did some landscaping yesterday, on a very small scale. I realized while doing it that the pleasure I get is from seeing the extension of myself. The extension is also for the neighbors to see. So, really, landscaping is all about showing off. Yes, it's very green of me to add flowers and shrubbery, but really it's selfish. That's why men get so hung up on having that perfect yard. The perfect yard must reflect the person who created it, right?
My patch of land is not perfect. I have bare spots in the grass. Does that mean I'm balding?
I'm building up time just so that I can leave early to do yard work on Friday. I'm giving myself a break to rake and any other garden work. It's just not making sense.

memorial day madness--not quite

It's Tuesday and I'm back in the office. This weekend was great due to my company, but shitty due to the weekend. I was happy to make half the money I normally make this weekend. So, what did I miss out on while I was working? Evidently there was a parade downtown, a drunken gut-busting barbecue, and boating. I probably would have taken part in all those festivities if I had not had so much fun slinging salsa and sour cream all weekend. Boo hoo.
I did learn that my capacity for chocolate chip and peanut butter cookies is six in one day. Anymore than that and i will throw up. Yeah...life is about finding your boundaries and going past them.

feeling overly sentimental

I'm sitting at the computer listening to Old Crow Medicine Show sing "We're all in this thing together" with the smell of a slightly burnt, frozen pizza in my nose thinking I feel your song, but I sure ain't living it.
Why is it that all my depressing thoughts come to me in the form of a country/western song? Do I have a doppelganger somewhere writing out these very words as I speak them? Maybe it's God's way of telling me to write country music songs for a living. Maybe I will start, and the first title will be "I'm hearing your song, but I sure ain't living it."
Eh, I'd rather be doing this than vegging on the couch watching Letterman. Life is grand.

Finally, me to you!

For anyone who will read this; this is my first blog ever! I'm as excited as when I got a Super Nintendo for Christmas one year.
I must conform to punctuation and grammar rules for this blog. That sucks, but it will make it easier for us all.
I thought I could just do an introductory blog for the first one.
So here goes:
I am 26 and a college grad. I work for a mental health agency and serve at a southwestern restaurant. I have been writing essays and mostly poetry for the past two years trying to find the writer somewhere inside me. I hope this will help. I know what you're thinking; life is grand. Not quite.
I, as of today, diagnosed myself with being chronically depressed on Mondays only. Oh, and I live in Owensboro, Kentucky's third largest city. Or as I like to refer to it as the one of Cinderella's sisters that didn't make it in the story. Not evil, but no beauty either. I'll explain the rest in my next thousand blogs.