From one of my inside sources, I found out that the hiring freeze at the old government job might be on hiatus and they’re looking to fill some CS-2 positions. Aaron and I contacted our old employers to get together for some lunch tomorrow, and they ended up making reservations for 14 at the Mayflower. Aaron and I both know that this could be an important lunch, so we’ll be putting on the preppy clothes. We actually had to discuss what we’d be wearing, since we dress so similarly.

Finally found some sweet pants, 28 28 29. They all need to be shortened of course, one of the hidden fees that always comes with my pants purchases and chicken legs, but otherwise they’re perfect. I even found comfortable jeans that are wide enough at the foot. Orleans is a gold mine of mens clothing.

On a good day I can find two pairs of pants that I want to try on. Today I found five, and none were right. Either they didn’t fit, or the cut ended up different when I actually put them on. Why is it so hard for me to find pants? Nice, durable yet comfortable, baggy yet fits around my waist, wide-leg, plain-looking pants.

Why do I write? Mostly because I feel like it. I can’t write with a pen because a computer allows me to organize my thoughts much better. I choose to publish my thoughts online. Yet I don’t write for an audience, I don’t care who reads, I don’t know who’s interested.

Does it take a reader to validate my thoughts? Not quite. I doubt I’d feel as good as I do after posting an entry if I just typed it in a text file and saved it on my hard drive. Everything I write is posted and made public. So why do I post if it doesn’t matter whether someone reads or not?

This is similar to my style of dress. The clothes I wear are a reflection of my mood, even though I don’t think anyone takes notice or actually cares.

An exercise in expression is its own reward.

Got a compliment the other day on the new cranberry colours I’ve integrated into my wardrobe.