2004-07-08 - 11:54 a.m.
HOT FUN IN THE SUMMER TIME
Thanks to Yoga Journal online, I�ve begun to grasp the concept of metta. Basically (and this description barely scratches the surface), it�s loving kindness�to yourself, to others, and to people you don�t know or don�t like. After re-reading yesterday�s entry, and walking through the day in silent funk, Pencopal needed a pick me up. I couldn�t go to the gym as I normally would, because on Tuesday night I came out of shoulder stand in such an ungraceful manner that my neck and my back were in severe amounts of pain. Six hundred milligrams of ibuprofen massaged the pain, but didn�t fuck it into oblivion. So after three and a half hours of talking about Pope, Mack, and Miller, I drove home with the intent of immersing myself in the opposite of high brow by sitting in the Jacuzzi with a flavored beer. But the strains of laughter emanating from the deck ruined that idea.
The second best pathway to happiness is the first season of Sex and the City. Thank God for DVDs. I love that first episode where the tones are so dark, SJP�s nose is so big, her mole so prominent, and her hair so brown and scrunchy. By the next episode they�ve lightened both the set and her hair, which makes her nose look smaller, and you can barely see her mole. It�s all so 1998: the abso-fuckin�-lutely episode, the one with the guy�s dick in the hall, and the one where Miranda admits, I mean, pretends she�s a lesbian. Needless to say, I fell asleep with a smile on my face. That smile became a mere memory at 5:30 this morning, when my roommate�s bed hitting the wall while she fucked her boyfriend (or something that sounded very similar) jolted me from sleep. Um, I�m all for getting one off before work in the morning, but why do I have to hear it? Wouldn�t it be courteous to at least try to be a little quiet? I also find it odd that when my boyfriend�s over, we don�t hear them having sex, but when I�m home alone with them, I can always hear it. Do they prefer a show for one, rather than two? Anyway, I�m coming to the metta part. So rather than do all of the rash things that came to mind, like throwing a boot at the ceiling or screaming �I can hear you assholes� at the top of my lungs, I merely turned on my air conditioner and my Ani DiFranco CD to drown out the sound. Every time I got mad about being woken up, yet again, by her wallbanging sex, I breathed in loving kindness and breathed out resentment. Breathed in loving kindness, breathed out negativity, and so on. Forty-five minutes later, I was asleep. Hey, it�s better than being so angry I�d not be able to return to sleep.
When I got up to get ready for work, I heard her banging around in the kitchen. As I walked past her, I resisted the urge to say, �It�s no wonder you get UTIs every two weeks. He�s fucking you like a jackhammer. Ever hear the song �Slow motion for me?� You two might want to take that guy�s advice. Who knows, you might even cum without him going down on you.� I said none of that. I did make a mental note to scream like a banshee tonight when honeybuns comes over, but hopefully I�ll exercise metta rather than revenge.
Even these psychotic bitches, I mean the ladies I work with, haven�t been able to get to me today. I�m sending them all loving kindness energy, even Voldemort the Publisher, in the hopes that it�ll ward off their negativity. Results are cloudy.
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