Living in the Pabst (Typo Intentionally Intended to Provoke Laughter and Chuckles)

Topic of the day. The death and destruction of brain cells.

This is a first. A monumental occasion. A once-in-a-lifetime-Emily-aha-moment! I am sipping in a delicious breath of fresh air. Not just any fresh air, the fresh air coming through the screen porch door of my apartment. An apartment that I adore with a roommate I love to pieces and smitherines. With plants and pictures and music and books and all of the mugs in my mug collection at my fingertips! Did I mention high-speed internet? I know, right, where is the complaining? The begrudging and disgruntling? Where is Emily? Do we really want her back? I think not.

I had a lovely conversation with my brother and my true love the other day about whether or not perfection can be achieved and attained in life or at least, if the feeling of perfection can be felt FOR REAL. Can you get to a place where things feel nearly perfect and the desire to complain or be negative is absolved as a result? Because, the very essence of wanting is that when you get, you will inevitably want more? Am I right? I am not even sure. I do know that wanting and not being sure what you want, you are sure not to get it, and then therefore you will continue wanting. That’s a dangerous and perpetually long downward spiral. A spiral staircase that I fortunately do not have to go up in these high heels. AB2

Just surf with me a minute on these brain waves and I’ll bring it all back around to Jethro Tull, I promise you that.

Living in the past, I often find myself reverting back to old methods of living. Or reminiscing about how I was so healthy at this one point, how I had this then, that over there. But living in the past is sort of like wanting. Wanting to be at a different juncture, whether it be past, present or future. Wanting removes the opportunity to learn. How can you be learning and growing when you’re busy wanting and desiring? I’ve noticed that I am having a challenge with combining these two lately, and no these thoughts did occur whilst staring at my reflection in a PBR on draft. I don’t drink draft beer. I do, however, kill brain cells regularly, which I am wanting to stop. But in all sincerity, think about trying to read a book while your mind is dwelling on any want or desire, think about trying to listen to a friend on the phone when your wants and needs

are bellowing out of your brain, it’s hard to learn, to be compassionate, to truly HEAR what is being said.

I can honestly say that, between being compared to “Amelia Bedilia” by my bosses at my “real” job, and crashing my car into every moving thing I can find, messing up anything and everything, and failing miserably at every intellectual pursuit I attempt, I have not been feeling much smarter than a bag of rocks lately. Then again, I’ve been a little all-consumed with, well, all but what really matters.


If I steer with my heart, perhaps I can want less, dislike less, perhaps I can for the first time make my brain cells work a little better and, Viola! Open my Mind. Or what is left of it.

Enter Jethro Tull. He’s helping me expand my mental musical hodge podge. No more “Living in the Past”. Perhaps now there can be a revolution.



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