Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Please Pass the Jazz

I always feel so good on weekends, and so stressed-shoulders-up-to-my-ears on weekdays.  I try not to let my commute wig me out, but it does.  I don't trust my car one bit; it needs to go back to the transmission shop, and I invariably make at least two stupid driving choices that turn out to be unsafe or inconsiderate along the way.  My new brakes are squeaking again.  They say it's no big deal, but the other cars don't squeal and scream to a stop.

The crazy Take Five meter cut through today's fog as I randomly pushed the car radio buttons, and I was immediately returned to myself.  My neck relaxed and I found myself breathing again.  In quintuple time.  Yeah, baby.  That's where life is.  Sir Brakesalot in front of me didn't matter anymore.

Can I plan my way to a more authentic life? 

What does a non-emergency budget look like?  (I'm excellent working with no money)

What are my standards?

And oh no- what do I want?