And all other desires that distract me day and night, are false and empty to the core

Has the catch phrase "It is what it is" run its course? Is it still viable? No to the former and yes to the latter. Its had legs because its application covers a wide range, unlike, say, "You go girl", and the like. So, yes, I think it's still okay to use the phrase without being dated, but I warn you: the time is fast approaching when you will no longer be able to. I'm speaking in the cultural sense; regarding my personal feelings on the matter, I think it's been overused and has become a short cut to thinking, but, really, as far as catch phrases go, it's pretty good. Having said that, I predict I'll be rather done with it in a couple of months. How did I come up with that time line, you ask? I have no idea, but it feels right.
--

I arrived at the Cambridgeside Galleria this morning and the entrance I usually use to the parking garage was gated off, so I used the one adjacent to it. It took me to the basement level. I parked near an elevator at the Best Buy entrance. As I made my way to it, I realized the reason why the other entrance was blocked, was because the mall hadn't opened yet.

I took the elevator up to street level and stepped out onto the next tier of the garage. It was empty and dark. I couldn't exit through the mall, because it wasn't open, and the only other exits were for emergencies. Rather than walk all the way down to the street, which from where I was, was a considerable distance, I got back in the elevator and made my way back down to the basement.

It's a massive garage, so it took me a few minutes to find my way out. When I emerged onto the street, I didn't know where I was. When I found my bearings, I made the determination that I was on the opposite side of the mall, which meant my walk to the T was going to be a longer one.

When I finally hopped on the T and took a seat, I was a sweaty disheveled mess. A pretty blond woman sat facing me from the other side of the train. She was dressed in black and looked like she just stepped out of a magazine ad. Not a hair out of place, not a drop of sweat. Whenever she looked my, I felt like a pariah, a sweaty, disheveled pariah. I was the Quasimodo of Cambridge, on full display and ready to inspire discomfort and dread in my fellow passengers. I cursed her for not succumbing to the heat, for being so put together. C'mon, girl, show me that you're human! Sweat a little -- it's fucking HOT out! It seemed she was cut from a finer cloth than the rest of us.
--
When I left my parent's house last night, I was drained. I had come off a busy day at work that involved visits to the registries in Lowell and Nashua, the former a frustrating affair that does not warrant a detailed account in this post. Equally as frustrating was class number three with my parents on how to use the Internet. Frustrating, but not painful; as slow going as the process has been, it's a service, such as it is, that I'm happy to be providing for my parents. Plus, I've been getting free, home cooked meals out of the bargain, so I can't complain too much. It is what it is.

Tonight: Six Feet Under; maybe The Wire, too; read from The Pillars of The Earth; some music; meditate; and sleep. Sounds like a plan.