a foggy morning

Driving into work this morning was quite scary. The fog came so thick that my lopsided headlights could barely cut it (no pun intended; kudos if you got that). Fog covered the 8th Street Viaduct to such a degree that I could only see two or three streetlights ahead of me, and more than once a truck came barreling through the fog on the other side of the lane, shooting past me before I could even register its passing. My alma mater posted the picture above; thankfully once I got downtown, the blanket of fog completely lifted. You could even see the stars, it was so clear. 

This weekend should be pretty crazy: Friday Blake and I are packing up the whole house, and Saturday we're moving into our new place. Hopefully the move will be swift, for that night there's a Hoos in the House party at the Loth House: Rob and Mandy, back in town, a party like the olden days. I simply CAN'T FUCKING WAIT. And then next weekend... Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

December is busy.

So fucking busy.

Hopefully things settle down after Christmas.

The future at T.M. is looking quite convoluted at the moment. Brandon's on his way out, hopes this will be his last month. Bob said he's going to be looking for an outside hire, someone with lots of restaurant management experience, but we'll see if that happens: it'll be interesting to see if anyone with such credentials would be willing to work for what he's offering. The meantime could be a bit tricky: I've been trained on most managerial duties, to "fill in the gap" so-to-speak, and if this temporary situation becomes drawn out, well, I don't want to think about that. I don't want to run the store, not with Grad School *hopefully* starting this March.

Regarding Grad School, I'm going to be working on the first essay once we settle down in the new house. The essay is an analysis of two books regarding whether the American Revolution was a social or political movement. In the interim, I'm trying to nail down a survey of Spanish colonization in the New World. It's interesting, the stuff good--albeit sad--stories are made of. The brutality of the Spanish coupled with their insistence of Catholic conversion makes one wonder what benefit the natives had in conversion. Sure, there were benefits, mostly material and psychological; but the benefits weren't long-lasting, as the natives (especially the Pueblos to the north) realized that their lives were far more peaceful and harmonious under their "pagan" ways of living. 

On a sad note, and this is worth mentioning, Mo and I broke up. Sure, we didn't date super long. But it was a good relationship, and she's a great girl, but we just wanted different things out of life. It wasn't a matter of one of us "falling out of favor," rather it was a matter of us realizing that our lives are going in different directions and we'd best acknowledge that now, and suffer the pain, than to continue in denial and become traumatized, bitter, and resentful towards one another in the future. So, yes, I'm back on the market; but the price is high, unless you're Blake, and I'm thinking a good dose of singleness would be profitable for where I'm at in life right now. 

All that aside, I miss Mo. I really do.

Sometimes, with dating, this happens.

But that doesn't make it any easier.

Amanda's waiting for me in my room.

She locked herself out of her house when she came over to shower.

I'm going to close this laptop, gather my books, and head home.

"Where am I now?" At The Anchor of course!

Ta-ta for now.

(Tigger)

(from Winnie the Poo)