A Glass or Two

Remember your first alcoholic beverage?

I’m trying to remember exactly what it was for me.

I’m Italian. I probably had a sip or two of red wine or something like that at some point in my life, but I never really indulged in drinking before the age of twenty-one.

I never really had the time in high school.

High school, where parties had peers consuming beer before they turned eighteen, was devoted to marching band and color guard. From August to May, my time was devoted to spinning a flag across a football field and a gym floor. I was at practice for three to four days a week and at football games and competitions on Saturdays and Sundays. I was either too tired or too busy, and college was basically the same.

I turned twenty-one and celebrated by drinking a glass of wine.

After turning the age for legal drinking, it doesn’t seem as exciting. Sure, you have your college days drinking at bars, but it’s just another adult thing.

Cheers to being an adult.

Sorry for the short post. Plans delayed me getting home.


Still Water


Well, this has been another work week, my friends.

On Monday, I came into work at 7:30 in the morning and worked until about 5:30 in the evening. On Tuesday, I basically did the same shift.  I mixed it up by coming in at seven in the morning and leaving at my normal work time of 4:30 in the after noon thanks to a snow storm that left eight inches of ice and snow covering the ground. The rest of the week will see me pulling that 7:30 to 5:30 shift.

This has been a week.

I come in. I work on the special project for the half-hour of overtime in the morning before work officially starts for everyone at eight. I begin my normal daily tasks at this time while people stumble in five to ten minutes after eight. Idle conversation and soft radio music fill the air as we all begin our normal obligations. Once the work day ends and most of my co-workers have left their desks, I either return the special project for a while or work on whatever my superior feels is the top priority at that given time.

It was a week and nothing else.

The past few days have been uneventful. I struggle to even write a few sentences because I have nothing that is inspiring me or pissing me off. I wake up. I work. I come home. I work out. I blog. I go to sleep. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

I need some excitement in my life.

I cannot stress this enough; I like my job and the company I work for. It was just one of those weeks where everything just happened as it should, and there was nothing to shake things up. I would love a crisis just to have something to shake me from my rut.

Thanks God my vacation is next week.

Ashamed of My Pride


I have a question for everyone.

When is it okay to be proud of yourself?

It is something that crossed my mind as I typed away at my computer at work on this snowy Wednesday. I was given the task of getting a mailbox in our workflow with over three hundred tasks to complete within a week of the current date. As the time for work to be over came closer, I knew that the ultimate goal was not going to be completed. However, I and I alone severed the mailbox in half in only a few hours. I worked at a quick pace to finish off my each and every task as efficiently as possible.

Should I be proud of clearing over half of the mailbox? Am I allowed to be proud?

Obviously, I should always work hard to achieve whatever goal is presented to me at work or in anything else I do. If I am given the job to complete one hundred tasks and only complete ninety of them, the goal was not completed, and I need to work harder in my job to full complete whatever is asked of me. You should never be satisfied with nearly reaching your goals in life and always should strive towards perfection in whatever you may do.

But, when is it okay to be proud of what you have done?

I am naturally a pessimist. I strive to work hard and see the good in the world, but it does not come easy to me. It is sometimes hard for me to feel pride in what I have accomplished in a particular goal because I always look for the one nugget of failure within my performance. I am fearful of feeling complete pride.

Then, you become complacent.

When you have completed something one hundred percent, you have nowhere else to go. When a video game reaches the end, unless you have downloadable content, that is it.  There is no more to do or say.  By finding fault or weakness in your performance, you never feel like you have reached one-hundred percent.

I do not like to feel pride, maybe, because then I will not be motivated to try.



Tuesday is the worst day of the week.

I know most people assume or think of the worst day of the week is either Monday or Wednesday. Monday means it is back to hard work at school or at your job after a relaxing weekend. Monday means you have five days more to have to stress and push hard to complete whatever professional or academic goals you may have waiting for you. Then, there is Wednesday. Wednesday is in the middle of the work week. You have been at work or school for two days and have another two days to go before the relaxing weekend approaches. Even Sunday could be a contender for the worst week as it is the last day of the weekend.

No, the worst day is Tuesday.

When Monday hits, you are likely still in a relaxed or happy state from whatever you may have or haven’t done over the last two days. As much as it may seem terrible to have to face down five more days of hard work at your job, school, or whatever you may do in your life, you can face it pretty well because you are still kind of relaxed. Wednesday may seem awful as you have had to suffer through two days of work, but then you only have two more days until the weekend. Plus, you have likely adapted to the pace and attitude required to complete your job or assignments.

Tuesday is just the worst.

The high of the weekend has left you, but your brain is still sort of in work or school mode. Monday’s obligations have beaten you down quite a bit, and you still have four more days to push before the weekend. Leftover projects from Monday and the weekend immediately require completion and cast a heavy shadow on the work and motivation of the day, and there is little time or opportunity to recharge your batteries or take an honest break.

Plus, Tuesdays simply feel rough.

If Tuesday was a color, it would be grey. If Tuesday was a feeling, it would be meh. Maybe it is just me, but Tuesdays are always the days when I feel the most tired. I have fallen into a stead work rhythm by Wednesday, but the day before is a day where I am trying to figure out exactly what I need to do and how to do it.

I hate Tuesdays.

White Stuff


Today, I am dealing with mountains of snow.

Driving to work after a significant snow storm in my little Honda Civic sedan is always a nerve-wracking experience. I do not have an all-wheel drive car that can handle all of the snow and ice that covers the ground. My car will slip and slide around turns and icy patches at it makes the fifteen minute journey from my house to my place of employment. I grip the steering wheel and go barely thirty miles across roads and bridges, terrified of that hidden icy patch that will send me into a wall of snow or ice.

Tomorrow, we will clean up from the snow.

Why the powers that be of Northeastern Pennsylvania do not prep the roads properly before a storm they know about beforehand is beyond me, but tomorrow they will begin to clean off the roads so normal life and driving can go on as scheduled. At the end of the day, drivers can except moderately safe roads to commute on.

Until Wednesday’s snow storm.

Eight inches. That is how much the weather channels and reporters are predicting for my area of the country. Just as we clean up after a six inch storm, we are to expect nearly a foot more of the white stuff to blanket the newly cleaned roads.

I cannot stand all of this snow.

I used to love the snow and everything about it. I used to get so excited when I would wake up to a blanket of white covering the ground before me. It would make everything look so simple and cool. I would sit at my window on the couch and stare out at the white wonderland. I loved everything about the snow.

Now driving in it has made me hate it.

Fly Eagles Fly


The bridesmaid has finally been given the chance to become the bride.

It has been fifty-two years, but the National Football League team the Philadelphia Eagles  finally won the championship game against the seemingly unstoppable five-time championship team the New England Patriots and the pretty boy quarterback Tom Brady. It was a nail biter down to the last few minutes until a game winning touchdown followed by a fumble by the Patriots sealed the former champs fate and allowed the underdogs to snatch the victory much to the joy and shock of the viewers across the globe watching.

Boy, was that a game!

As much as it pains me to offer any sort of positive remark to the New England Patriots, both teams played well.  It was anybody’s game to win, and it just so happened to be the Eagles time to take the top spot. The Patriots played to the level they always played at. It just so happened to be that the Eagles played better. They took more risks that paid off and simply completed more passes and plays that resulted in points being added to the board. It was a good game.

Their quarterback also did extremely well.

Most of the time in football, the MVP, or most valuable player, is the player that seemed to contribute the most to their team’s victory. This year was no exception. Quarterback Nick Foles, who was serving as the back up for the injured main quarterback, stepped up in more ways that one can ever imagine and led his team to the ultimate victory and trophy. As a player, he certainly deserved the awards and praise he was given. However, I do not know if I would go so far to call him the most valuable.

That honor should go to the coach.

Holy God was that coach a brave one. Fourth downs usually result in the offensive team punting to the other team and changing possession. Not this guy, he went for it for the first down, and it paid off. He went for two instead of just kicking the extra point, and it paid off. If there was a risk to be taken to help his team make it to victory against the always winning team of the Patriots, he went for it.

Motivation and hope in spite of all odds.

The underdogs. This team went in with almost no one believing they could take down the empiric machine that was the New England Patriots. They proved everything and everyone wrong. They kept their cool, believed in themselves and each other, and the won.

Victory for Philly.

On the Off Switch


I did not get out of bed until noon today.

Let me repeat that.

I did not arise from my bed until noon.

After pulling overtime for eight hours a day for seven days in a row, I finally had a day to myself. With my parents out of the house, I have the entire day to take care of all of my obligations at home by cooking, cleaning, and doing laundry, or I can just lay around all day for the entire twenty-four hours just sleeping and watching Netflix. There is no obligation that I have to take care of today. Today is mine to decide.

I did a little of both.

Waking up around nine in the morning, I sifted through my phone on Facebook and Twitter while still laying around in bed. I curled up underneath my blanket and daydreamed a bit. Drifting off again, I finally got up from my bed and rested in a new spot under a blanket of water in my bathtub. Once I wash finished, I actually got up and went to deciding what I wanted to eat for lunch.

That started a new debate.

Part of me wanted to gather up ingredients to create a veganized mac and cheese that would take about a half of an hour to make from start to finish, while the other half of me just wanted to throw something in the microwave that only takes a minute and a half.  After walking up and down my steps for a while, I decided to spend sometime to cook the mac and cheese because its what I was craving.

Today was mine.

I got some laundry done, but I also just napped in bed every now and again.

The point was I got to do whatever I wanted.