On my Starbucks cup this afternoon:
The Way I See It #76
The irony of commitment is that
it's deeply liberating - in works,
in play, in love. The act frees you
from the tyranny of your internal critic,
from the fear that likes to
dress itself up and parade around
as rational hesitation. To commit is
to remove your head as the barrier
to your life
- Anne Morris, Starbucks customer from NYC
It's not often a paper cup makes me reflect as much as this one did.
What excuses am I holding onto? What fears and self-doubts are preventing me from being the best me I have to offer? Why is our society, this generation, myself included, so afraid of committing to anything? When will we take ownership for our actions, decisions, and ultimately our future? When will we stop making excuses for our mediocrity and indecision?
Very soon, I hope.
And all that from a grande soy latte.
dear john...
|
Did anyone know there really is such thing as the Dead Letter Office? I guess when I was little I'd heard about it once or twice, but I mistakenly thought it was the place where letters for dead people went after they died. This Tuesday I found out that theory was slightly inaccurate.
Sunday night I was trying to wrap up some loose ends at work, so on my way to grab some food, I gathered a bunch of letters to be mailed, both private and work related, so I could drop them off and cross the task off my to-do list. I searched my office high and low for stamps, made sure all the envelopes were sealed, and proudly left with my stack of mail. I pulled around the moon-shaped drive and pulled up as close as I could to the big blue drop box. Double checked to ensure they all had stamps. Yep. Check. And as I tossed them down the chute I realized, all too late, that although they might all have stamps, not all of them had addresses. Nooooo!
Two of the notes were thank you's from Christmas - I'm a lot behind! I had actually written them over a month ago, but long story short, they were lost and only recently discovered. Looks like they'll be lost again.
I called on Monday to see what happened to letters without addresses. Who even does that? Sheesh. The Post Office would never pick up the phone, so I decided to drive there before work. I get there and no one is manning the office. In fact, all the lights are off and the door is locked. Great - does anyone even work around here? (I accidentally sighed that outloud) A woman checking her PO Box graciously explained in was President's Day and they were closed.
Brain-head move #2 within 24 hours.
An even longer story short, I got ahold of the Post Office on Wednesday. After explaining to the man what happened, he asked if I'd at least included a return address on the envelope? Dude, if the letters had return addresses, I wouldn't be desperately searching the post office in an effort to track them down.
He said I had to contact the Dead Letter Office within 30 days to see if it can be found at retrieved. That's when I found out a Dead Letter Office is really a place for letters without a home. An interesting thought, really. But I just want my letters back so I can share them with the loved ones intended.
So Laura, Steve & Sharon - if you receive thank you's four months late, it's not my fault. They're stuck in an office somewhere with no place to call home.
Sunday night I was trying to wrap up some loose ends at work, so on my way to grab some food, I gathered a bunch of letters to be mailed, both private and work related, so I could drop them off and cross the task off my to-do list. I searched my office high and low for stamps, made sure all the envelopes were sealed, and proudly left with my stack of mail. I pulled around the moon-shaped drive and pulled up as close as I could to the big blue drop box. Double checked to ensure they all had stamps. Yep. Check. And as I tossed them down the chute I realized, all too late, that although they might all have stamps, not all of them had addresses. Nooooo!
Two of the notes were thank you's from Christmas - I'm a lot behind! I had actually written them over a month ago, but long story short, they were lost and only recently discovered. Looks like they'll be lost again.
I called on Monday to see what happened to letters without addresses. Who even does that? Sheesh. The Post Office would never pick up the phone, so I decided to drive there before work. I get there and no one is manning the office. In fact, all the lights are off and the door is locked. Great - does anyone even work around here? (I accidentally sighed that outloud) A woman checking her PO Box graciously explained in was President's Day and they were closed.
Brain-head move #2 within 24 hours.
An even longer story short, I got ahold of the Post Office on Wednesday. After explaining to the man what happened, he asked if I'd at least included a return address on the envelope? Dude, if the letters had return addresses, I wouldn't be desperately searching the post office in an effort to track them down.
He said I had to contact the Dead Letter Office within 30 days to see if it can be found at retrieved. That's when I found out a Dead Letter Office is really a place for letters without a home. An interesting thought, really. But I just want my letters back so I can share them with the loved ones intended.
So Laura, Steve & Sharon - if you receive thank you's four months late, it's not my fault. They're stuck in an office somewhere with no place to call home.
puddin'...
|
While attempting a little office organization today I came across the menu of a restaurant called Iron Barley. It's located in St. Louis, possibly not in the best part of town. But it was showcased on Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives, and it's so GOOD!
I ordered Schnitzel & Spaetzle and have honestly been craving it ever since. I don't even know what that means (I think it was a fried pork chop of some sort), but it was such great food.
If you're ever in the STL area I highly recommend it stopping by. Don't be discouraged by the ambiance. It's well worth the grub.
I ordered Schnitzel & Spaetzle and have honestly been craving it ever since. I don't even know what that means (I think it was a fried pork chop of some sort), but it was such great food.
If you're ever in the STL area I highly recommend it stopping by. Don't be discouraged by the ambiance. It's well worth the grub.
don't say a word...
|
One of my favorite, rare pleasures in life? Falling asleep to the sound of rain pitter-pattering on the rooftop, the distant rumble of thunder lulling me deep into dreamland.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
