Weeekend wrap up

I thought I'd have some time to write in at work, but work turned out busier than I thought, except for today as everyone wraps up the year.

I had a somewhat fun weekend, by my standards anyway. I went to Breakfast yesterday at J. Christophers. The food was awful this time around. I was craving waffles and omelettes so I had both. Apparently, people do not eat both, so the waitress was a bit shocked that I ordered two whole entrees. And then she brought the omelette with the onions on it raw as ever. The instant smell of that with the eggs just got me all nauseous. And that nausea stayed with me for a greater part of the day. You would think that a restaurant that serves only breakfast will specialize in it, and avoid mediocre prep methods. It was horrid. I almost ran into Marlow's Tavern next door to get me some alcohol to quench the nausea. It was bad. I don't know what's wrong with me. To say I still feel a little nausea today is not too far from the truth.

I did eventually get some alcohol. I drove in the torrential rain to Soho in Vinings to sample their wines. It was good and affordable and very serene. There are very few restaurants that make single people feel at ease, and Soho thankfully is one of them. A friend of mine joined me and it made for an equally amusing afternoon. He asked me what I was celebrating, as I sat there, watched the rain and sipped my wine. I don't know why people would ask that, as if you must be in a celebratory mood to sit and enjoy some good wine, a few miles from your home. That is a bit presumptious. It's the end of the year, and I am still alive, and still here. That is cause for a gentle celebration by my standards.

But it was a good weekend. I also stopped by Tavern at Phipps for the first time on Saturday afternoon to enjoy a nice burger - that turned out not so great, what is it about "well done" that translates into charred - and listen to their local live music. The good part was that the waiter comped one of my beers to make up for the charred burger, so that's always a given that I'll be back.

If I had a job in which I sample and review restaurants, it would make for a very good vocation. I do it now on my coin, but can you imagine if I got paid to do it.

Let's see how tonight, NYE turns out. May go out, may not. The one place I wanted to go - TAP - is sold out of tickets for NYE. So it may just be me sitting at home watching Dick Clark battle the shingles as he counts down. Truly how many places can single people go to and not feel left out.

My sense of Style

I just bought a pair of Merrell Shoes (Milan style) for an exorbitant amount of money. The shoes are comfy and have this very unique look, but I still don't know why their shoes cost a lot of money. What is the deal? Yesterday I used my $50 gift card to splurge on a pair of Coach tennis shoes, you know those logo sneaker shoes, and they cost a bundle too. So much so I can't think of anywhere to wear them. I hate flashy stuff, or something that's so trendy that it's common, like Uggs. But I don't have a nice classy pair of tennis shoes apart from my Converse Sneakers, and they are wearing out on me. They are wearing down on my style, I am trying to look more like a lady, like I give a shit every now and then.

My sense of style is more bohemian casual and then very classic, like a classic suit, a classic dress with no trimmings, no frills just simple and chic. Like Katie Holmes style. Like the British Mod look, that's my style. And that style is not cheap, I don't have Katie Holmes money so my credit cards are taking a pinch trying to satisfy that style. I remember when I saw her in this nice wide leg plaid pants, they were so chic, I hunted down wide leg pants all through Fall, and they cost $60 a pop, and now come winter they are now on sale. My sister got her self and her husband 3 piece suits, you know with the waist coats. I should have done that, I love pant suits even though I don't have anywhere to wear them to. I love waist coats. But I may return the Coach shoes and get me some 3 piece suits. They are too fancy shmancy and that suede at the bottom is so not me. I don't have time to clean that suede after each wear. Really who does. We'll see, I'll sleep on it.

As you can tell, it's just been shopping, shopping, shopping. I got so many gifts and gave so little, and bought more for myself that I was consumed with guilt yesterday as I unpacked my gifts until I thought that lot of people probably did the same thing, or not. But it's just been a shopping frenzy, as if the world were to stop and I need to acquire all these things. It's too bad. It's too otherworldly.

But anyway, back to the Merrell shoes, are they any good?

Work has been slow, hopefully slow enough for me to do a proper update tomorrow on my humdrum shopping fueled life.

I had no idea it's been over 10 days

It's been awhile. Well, as you can guess, I am not going to the Netherlands. I am just so taken with everything that I don't do pretty much of anything of value. I just sit, eat, shop till I drop, and eat some more, and go to bed. It's pretty linear. Everything to stop me from thinking constantly about what I would like, what I would want, and what it s I need. Then, I thank God, that I have my needs. We have always have to remember to be grateful for that. So it's been that, a little up and down, I know. So the 10 days is pretty much fruitless so much so I didn't want to write about it. I am sure there's something remotely interesting in the past but I am afraid I cannot remember it. One notable thing, it was really cold today in Atlanta. Like snuggle up cold, usually we don't get that cold but today was bad, and I think next Sunday is going to be just as bad if not worse. I guess the cold weather goes with the demeanor, cold and icy lacking of warmth.

Where are you going?

When people say my life is working out personally and professionally I always wonder how much of the chips/stars/elements have to be aligned for you to say that. The other day, I overheard one of my co-workers mention it in a phone call with someone who casually inquired, "So how are you doing?" with which she responded, "I am doing well, very well. Things are going great personally and professionally."

I just gasped. How immersed in life's comforts do I have to be to make that type of astounding admission. I don't know. I don't appreciate life enough to make that now, or have ever been. Because both of them are just total opposites of each other; like they bounce off each other - the personal conflicting with the professional life constantly. Most people that are set professionally really don't have that much going on in their private lives. They inevitably have to sacrifice their private life for a professional one. And vice versa.

So how am I? I am still reeling over not going to The Hague (though no member of my family thinks it's a big deal). And I am considering not registering for the Bar. Most importantly, I am still single. I am 33 ½ and still single.

So what gives, personally or professionally?

Talks evolve

I managed to go out last night, by myself nonetheless. I went to this new place a mile and a half from my flat that offered me a $10 off coupon. As I sat there downing cheap good drinks, and feeling a little bit of a buzz, the only guy who talked to me and kept me company through the rest of the evening, (I was about done when he showed up) was this cute short, nice looking neatly dressed (as in no baggy clothes, and no chip on his shoulder) young man. Our talks revolved around marriages. He was at this stage in his life where all of his friends are married and he thought it would be a good time to propose to his girlfriend. Basically that's what we ended up talking about for the rest of the evening. About romantic non-cheesy ways to propose to his girlfriend. I was still in shock that he seemed to act like he was remotely interested in me, (I mean why else would you talk to a girl at the Bar) just to talk to me about how enamored he is with his girlfriend. I would have been upset by it, but I chose not to.

Isn't it funny the kind of conversations you can continue with people especially when you are slightly inebriated. I mean why would he think I cared about that information. And there I was giving him advice on a nice romantic non-cheesy way to do it. He wanted to involve her best friend, her family, etc, on a boat, since that is where she always imagined that she'd be proposed to. Lucky bitch has actually imagined her marriage proposal. I have never imagined a nice location for my proposal. Maybe Paris, looking over the night lights somewhere exotic, nice romantic music seeping though, I suppose, I just have never imagined it, maybe I should, maybe it will WILL it to reality. But then I told him the boat idea was cute, but with all the additional people there, I am not too sure. He said he wanted to make it a huge production. Hmm....a la Nick Cannon. Let's preface this by saying that before we got to this, he told me how all his other friends were married and cheating on their wives, sans wedding rings. Isn't that so Nigerian and ancient. Nobody does married relationships like my blokes in Nigeria.

Anyway, after advising him against the "production" route, I paid my tab and wished him good luck. I don;t have his number he doesn't have mine, and I will probably never see him again. Isn't it weird how my life plays out, that the one guy I manage to have a decent conversation with is in the midst of making a lifelong commitment to his lady. Just my luck, I suppose.

Performance Review Editing

One of the worst writing exercises especially for me who is a procrastinator, "purely acts on inspiration" type of writer, is writing the performance review. It, coupled with any write up that involves, your work self, like some job sites ask you to write about your biggest achievement, or summarize your work self. It is plain and simple torture. It is inanimate self talk. You try to sound academic and profound when in and of itself you spend your days at work doing simply what you are asked to do and not what you want to do, or trying not to think so much out of the box so they do not reprimand you for your "new-agey" appeal.

The sad part about the performance review is that there is no review. It's been predetermined. Unlike a person that is forced to write a good movie script knowing that the better the movie is, the better reviews you would receive from the critics. But in a performance review, it is total opposite, the work "critics" have already rated the movie a C even without you putting pen to paper. They've gone to the presses ready and waiting and as soon as the movie is released, the press prints the already written review. So why put us through the torture of writing about your "work self." 

Spare me that and give me the reviews like the bitter pill that it is.