everybody else is doing it

Answering rhetorical questions is only one of the many annoying things I'm prone to do.

2005-06-30T13:36:00.000-07:00

Why do I always assume it was something I did?

I guess it's easier to take responsibility than to assign blame. Or maybe it's just more comfortable. Maybe it's what I'm used to, the way I'm used to things going, and it's easier to assume it's me, than that there could be another explanation. Maybe I looked for other explanations too many times without finding them, once upon a time, and now it doesn't even occur to me to look. Everything is cause and effect for me, and maybe I'm always looking for the cause, trying to make things easier, better, smoother, whateverer.

I'm so used to steeling myself for a figurative blow, inwardly flinching after everything I say, waiting for the problem I didn't realize I caused, and trying to fix it before it even occurs. I'm reacting differently now, but it's slow. Those old habits die hard, and even though I'm afraid I will fall back into old patterns, even though I sometimes see parts of myself trying to from time to time, now I mostly stop them. Sometimes it just takes a little while. And I realize that this is incoherent, and I'm sorry. I'm just bad at this stuff. Maybe I'll get better, maybe I'm getting better, maybe trying is really all I need to do.

Expectation is a funny thing, I tried to talk about it recently, but found that I couldn't really say what I meant. It's the little things, and the big things, and the fact that often these days, the responses I'm getting are the ones I never would have dared expect, because they're the ones I wanted.

2005-06-29T11:43:00.000-07:00

Well, after deciding that I was going to take a week off of the internet, (or most of the internet, to be honest) I've come to the conclusions that:
a) I am a weak, weak, person.
b) Too much of my social interaction is web based.
c) I'm really rather narcissistic.
d) I still have a rather large number of things to say.
e) I'm more emotional when I deny myself the outlet of writing
f) More stuff that I'll not go into right now (or likely ever)

Oops I did it again.

2005-06-24T15:48:00.000-07:00

It just occured to me that my posts of late have been quite small, and not particularly telling. Also, I haven't been using song lyrics for the post titles nearly as much. I think I should start posting more substantial things. No more 1 paragraph entries!

2005-06-24T14:06:00.000-07:00

New pants are good.

New shoes are a seemingly impossible dream.

That's all.

It takes me so long, just to figure out what I'm gonna wear

2005-06-23T19:57:00.000-07:00

How is it that someone with as many clothes as I have can't find a single pair of pants or skirt that is the perfect bottom for my Drunkprov tank top?

Hi-ho, Hi-ho, off to the mall I go....

Drunkprov

2005-06-23T15:43:00.000-07:00

Are you coming to DRUNKPROV? Because you should. I will be drinking and talking, so it'll be like any other time you see me, except that I'll also be on stage, which at least a couple of you haven't seen.

Please keep in mind that Drunkprov is not a family friendly show. Do not bring your children or your parents. I fully expect to do and say things that I will hope to forget by morning, so if you've been looking for that thing to give me shit about for the next 5 or 10 years, this is it folks.

For the link-challenged, it's happening this Saturday at 10:30. The cost is $5. 18 And over only.

Like rain, on your wedding day

2005-06-23T13:45:00.000-07:00

That girl's word of the day:

i·ro·ny ( P ) Pronunciation Key n. pl. i·ro·nies
1.
a) The use of words to express something different from and often opposite to their literal meaning.
b) An expression or utterance marked by a deliberate contrast between apparent and intended meaning.
c) A literary style employing such contrasts for humorous or rhetorical effect. See Synonyms at wit1.

2.
a) Incongruity between what might be expected and what actually occurs: “Hyde noted the irony of Ireland's copying the nation she most hated” (Richard Kain).
b) An occurrence, result, or circumstance notable for such incongruity. See Usage Note at ironic.

Source: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth EditionCopyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company.Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

2005-06-22T15:41:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think I'd like to be a private investigator. Sometimes figuring things out is really important to me, and it makes me really happy when I do so.

Sometimes I'd rather not have to figure stuff out though. Sometimes I wish people had just told me what was going on to start with. Sometimes I like to be unnecessarily vague just for the hell of it. If you think I'm talking about you, perhaps you have something to tell me?

(By the way Glitch there are a lot of people I'm not talking about here, and you happen to be one of them, so you can stop racking your brain, trying to figure out what the hell you did)

2005-06-20T15:44:00.000-07:00

How very daring to have ordered a chili burger for lunch on a day when I wore a white shirt.

How very lucky to have managed to come out of the burger eating unscathed.

How very unfortunate to have then spilled Diet Coke all over myself.

(That last part hasn't actually happened yet, but I figure, it's bound to, any minute now so I might as well at least be prepared, you know?)

Unforgettable

2005-06-18T13:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, or the day before, I was complaining about something in the (hopefully) funny fashion that I tend to complain about things in, and I had fully intended to share that complaint with you, my faithful blog readers, but alas, I find myself completely unable to recall what could possibly have annoyed me. Were I forced to guess I'd say it most certainly had something to do with stupidity, either mine, or that of others, but I honestly haven't the foggiest what it was. C'est la vie.
Other than that I only have good things to say, so I guess I'll shut up now.

2005-06-16T13:39:00.000-07:00

Wow.

I just received an email from my ex-husband. I won't share the contents of it here, except to say that he was expressing happiness for me in my newfound love, and wishing me well, and it brought me some closure I hadn't known I still needed.

It pleases me to note that the last tears he will ever make me cry are tears of happiness.

Wherein I lament my lack of groceries

2005-06-15T15:46:00.000-07:00

I have an uncanny craving for a tuna sandwich. It's really bad. I haven't had a tuna sandwich in ages. I may die if I don't have one soon. DIE I say! Problem is I don't like relish in my tuna, and you can't buy one without it, and I don't have, like, groceries or anything at home. The contents of my fridge are as follows: Diet Cola, Diet Root Beer, Beer (I don't drink beer, it's for guests) Capri Sun lemonade, fruit cups (never opened, bought in a rare moment when I thought perhaps someday I might actually eat fruit) Apple juice, Cranberry juice, condiments. I have some food-like stuff in the freezer, at least I think I do, I know I have ice-cream sandwiches, which are like food, only colder, and with no nutritional value. I might actually have tuna in the cupboard, I dunno, haven't looked in there in ages. I certainly don't have bread, bread is one of those things that gets moldy. I no longer buy things that get moldy, it's just not worth it. Probably mayo is one of the aforementioned condiments, but I'm not aware of the shelf-life of mayonnaise, and as a general rule of thumb, I don't open jars that haven't been opened in 6 months or longer, and the mayo would certainly qualify for that category. So if I never post again, it's because I died from a profound lack of tuna sandwich.

Wherein I go on and on about how flipping happy and in love I am

2005-06-15T11:50:00.000-07:00

If you don't want to read it, don't read it.

I'm constantly amazed, every day, every minute, every moment, by how much in love I am.

I've never felt quite like this before, I've never...I've never...I've never. It seems like I've never done anything before now, everything seems new and exciting. Even the humdrum details of a day seem charged with electricity, as every few minutes a memory drifts into the forefront of my consciousness, leaving me breathless.

I know I shouldn't compare now to before, but I can't help it. I expect certain things, and I'm not getting them, and that's so incredible.

In reference to questions someone else had asked on their own blog, I wrote the following on September 12th of last year:

Lowered expectations

What do you expect out of your romantic relationship(s)?

I expect I'll get my heart broken, I expect I'll be abused, I expect I will love more than he will, that I will do more than he will, that I will be too willing to sacrifice myself for him, and he will be too willing to let me. I expect I'll believe him when he lies to me, and trust him even after he proves he can't be trusted. I expect he will think I'm pretty, he will complement my body. I expect he will be very nice when he wants something. I expect I will give him everything he wants. I expect I will cry myself to sleep while he lays softly snoring next to me. These are my expectations. This is not what I want, of course, but what I expect.

What is your goal when getting into a romantic relationship?

My goal is to eventually find a relationship where all my expectations aren't realized. Where my heart doesn't break, I don't get abused, where I'm loved as much as I love. A relationship where I don't have to sacrifice myself, where he wouldn't let me if I tried, where I trust him, and never have a reason not to. My goal is to someday be with someone who thinks I'm pretty, and who compliments me, but not only when he wants something, someone who loves me and respects me, who likes the fact that I'm smart, who enjoys my company, who makes me laugh, who challenges me to be a better person. Someone who can make me lose track of time, while we talk about nothing and everything until the wee small hours of the morning. My goal is to someday be in a relationship where I never cry myself to sleep, because I'm not afraid to share the things that are bothering me while we're both awake.

How incredibly amazing to read that now, knowing that I once thought those goals were out of reach, and knowing that I now have all that and more.

Just another Manic Monday

2005-06-14T13:35:00.000-07:00

Okay, not really. Actually Monday was rather un-manic.

I called in sick to work, which I NEVER do, but in all fairness, I DID have a fever, which wasn't the actual reason I did it, but was the reason I gave. The reason I called in sick was due to a profound lack of sleep that was caused by a nightmare that kept me up for half of the morning, which now that I think about it was probably caused by the fever, so I guess it's all at least indirectly related. Anyway, I found myself starting to feel as though I might actually be able to get back to sleep roughly 20 minutes before the alarm was due to go off, so I called work, told them I had a fever, and went back to sleep.

It wasn't really a bad fever, just a couple of degrees above normal, which happens to me roughly once a month, and makes me a little achy, and gives me the I'm-too-cold-no-wait-I'm-too-hot yuckiness, but doesn't really have to stop me from going about my day.

Have I told ya'll lately how incredibly in love I am?

So I slept half of the day away, ate some fabulous French toast, saw a surprisingly un-sucky movie, ditched my fabulous boyfriend in order to get some laundry done and pretty myself up a little bit in time for karaoke, where I sang the title song, significantly better than I have in the past, (in fact, unless I'm wrong here, which is, of course, entirely possible, I think I actually did a pretty damned good job of it) played a lot of pool, and got awwwwwed at by friends.

I shall believe

2005-06-13T20:55:00.000-07:00

"I can believe things that are true and I can believe things that aren't true and I can believe things where nobody knows if they're true or not. I can believe in Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny and Marilyn Monroe and the Beatles and Elvis and Mr. Ed. Listen - I believe that people are perfectible, that knowledge is infinite, that the world is run by secret banking cartels and is visited by aliens on a regular basis, nice ones that look like wrinkledy lemurs and bad ones who mutilate cattle and want our water and our women. I believe that the future sucks and I believe that the future rocks and I believe that one day White Buffalo Woman is going to come back and kick everyone's ass. I believe that all men are just overgrown boys with deep problems communicating and that the decline in good sex in America is coincident with the decline in drive-in movie theaters from state to state. I believe that all politicians are unprincipled crooks and I still believe that they are better than the alternative. I believe that California is going to sink into the sea when the big one comes, while Florida is going to dissolve into madness and alligators and toxic waste. I believe that antibacterial soap is destroying our resistance to dirt and disease so that one day we'll all be wiped out by the common cold like the Martians in the War of the Worlds. I believe that the greatest poets of the last century were Edith Sitwell and Don Marquis, that jade is dried dragon sperm and that thousand of years ago in a former life I was a one-armed Siberian shaman. I believe that mankind's destiny lies in the stars. I believe that candy really did taste better when I was a kid, that it's aerodynamically impossible for a bumblebee to fly, that light is a wave and a particle, that there's a cat in a box somewhere who's alive and dead at the same time (although if they don't ever open the box to feed it it'll eventually just be two different kinds of dead), and that there are stars in the universe billions of years older than the universe itself. I believe in a personal god who cares about me and worries and oversees everything I do. I believe in a impersonal god who set the universe in motion and went off to hang with her girlfriends and doesn't even know I'm alive. I believe in an empty and godless universe of causal chaos, background noise and sheer blind luck. I believe that anyone who says that sex is overrated just hasn't done it properly. I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too. I believe in absolute honesty and sensible social lies. I believe in a woman's right to choose, a baby's right to live, that while all human life is sacred there's nothing wrong with the death penalty if you can trust the legal system implicitly, and that no one but a moron would ever trust the legal system. I believe that life is a game, that life is a cruel joke, and that life is what happens when you're alive and that you might as well lie back and enjoy it. "

-Neil Gaiman from American Gods

I thought I knew what love was, what did I know?

2005-06-13T20:26:00.000-07:00

Back by popular demand

2005-06-10T15:39:00.000-07:00

**Edit: Hey, while it was incredibly sweet of Ariel to do the leg work for me, giving me names and dates and stuff, so that I didn't have to do any work, the rest of ya'll don't have to be so nice. If you just remember a basic topic I'm willing to figure out where it was**

This is the post wherein I link to other posts I've written, because I'm too damned lazy and unoriginal to actually write something new and interesting. So far I've only had the one request, and since I'm also too damned lazy to actually go back and look for myself, I'll only be posting the one right now, but I plan to, at some point, possibly even this weekend, actually delve into the world that was my life, and is my archives, for some favorites of my own, which I will then likely add to this post, unless of course I decide to give them their own post where I talk about them, which is entirely possible, depending on my mood, lord knows I'm not above going on ad-nauseam about how impressed with myself I am.

Anyhow, this is Ariel's favorite, and certainly one my funnier posts, especially lately, of course it was originally posted 3 months ago, so I'm using lately in a relative sort of sense (for that matter, I'm also using funny in a relative sense)

I think I tend to be at my funniest when I'm annoyed with the stupidity of others. Anyhow, without further ado, taste it again, for the first time:

More money than brains

Everybody else is doing it

2005-06-10T13:50:00.000-07:00

I recently bought the cranberries album of this name, just because I felt like I should own it. It's not bad.

So hey yesterday was the 1 year anniversary of this blog. That's right folks, it was only a year ago that I started boring ya'll with the trivial little details of my trivial little life.

Been through a lot in that time, and I've written about, (or around) the better part of those experiences (some of the worse parts too) some of you have been reading this whole time, others only came upon my little corner of the internet recently, either way, I've written a somewhat daunting number of posts, some of which aren't really worth the paper they're not printed on, and in that vein, I had planned on going through my back posts, and picking out some of my favorites to briefly describe, and link to.

But that would take a long time. And I don't have the time at work, and I'm avoiding my apartment because it's 1000 degrees, and smells like wet dog, and besides, I've got places to be, and people to see, and all that jazz anyway.

So this is what you get, this anticlimactic post about how I'm not going to do something I was thinking about doing. Great, huh?

I'll tell you what though, if there is a post or two that you remember that you'd like to read again, or that you think others, who might not necessarily be interested in going through the archives, might find particularly amusing, let me know, and I'll dig 'em up.

Smoking in the boys room

2005-06-09T09:31:00.000-07:00

I rarely find doing things for my own good very compelling, so I sometimes try to work things out so that I can at least tell myself that I'm making somebody else happy by doing something for my own good.

It makes sense if you're me (or if I hadn't deleted the 5 paragraphs that came before that last bit, but I was afraid I was being too specific)

2005-06-08T15:42:00.000-07:00

It has been said, and implied, time and time again that happy people are less apt to write, and it would seem that, despite the best of intentions, this is the case with me. There are other factors, of course, that have kept me from the epic posting of yore, but mostly I just don't have anything to complain about, and I don't feel like the world is terribly interested in reading about how the birds are chirping, and the sun is shining, and all that romantic claptrap that seems to permeate my every thought these days, so mostly I'm just trying not to write so much, because I seem fairly unable to stop myself from getting all doe-eyed.

Don't worry though, something's bound to piss me off sometime soon :)

A Wonderful Guy

2005-06-07T16:41:00.000-07:00

From South Pacific,

I expect everyone of my crowd to make fun
Of my proud protestations of faith in romance,
And they'll say I'm naïve as a babe to believe
Every fable I hear from a person in pants.

Fearlessly I'll face them and argue their doubts away,
Loudly I'll sing about flowers in spring,
Flatly I'll stand on my little flat feet and say
Love is a grand and a beautiful thing!
I'm not ashamed to reveal
The world famous feelin' I feel.

I'm as corny as Kansas in August,
I'm as normal as blueberry pie.
No more a smart little girl with no heart,
I have found me a wonderful guy!

I am in a conventional dither,
With a conventional star in my eye.
And you will note there's a lump in my throat
When I speak of that wonderful guy!

I'm as trite and as gay as a daisy in May,
A cliché comin' true!
I'm bromidic and bright
As a moon-happy night
Pourin' light on the dew!

I'm as corny as Kansas in August,
High as a flag on the Fourth of July!
If you'll excuse an expression I use,
I'm in love, I'm in love,I'm in love, I'm in love,
I'm in love with a wonderful guy!

I'm as trite and as gay as a daisy in May,
A cliché comin' true!
I'm bromidic and bright
As a moon-happy night
Pourin' light on the dew!

I'm as corny as Kansas in August,
High as a flag on the Fourth of July!
If you'll excuse an expression I use,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love,
I'm in love with a wonderful guy!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, I'm pathetic, and I don't care.

2005-06-06T09:20:00.000-07:00

Quick update for those of you who weren't there, aren't psychic, and actually care about the minutiae of my life:

My back thing is still bugging me, it gets better, it gets worse, yada yada, in case I didn't write about it already, this time around, it's that same back thing that's been bugging me on and off since I was 13, I know that it will get better soon, in the meantime, I will whine.

Skipped out of the Comedysportz show on Friday night because of aforementioned back thing, wanted to stay and watch the show, but was "sent" home. Home was good.

At the risk of being effusive and gushy, and ridiculous, and girly, and all those things that I tend to despise in people who are happily in love when I am not, let me just say that life is feeling a little cinematic lately. And it's great. Really great. I can't recall a period in my life where everything felt so good, and so together, and so right, and so uhm, great, wait, I said great already.....Crap, I think happiness makes me stupid. I also think it's a price I'm willing to pay.

Went places, did stuff, made jokes, drank for art, and hung out with people. Good times.

2005-06-03T13:36:00.001-07:00

Dear Ann Landers,

My granddaughter rarely returns my calls and emails, never writes me letters, and hasn't sent me a Birthday or Christmas present in years. She has a blog, that I read regularly, and often email her comments about, which I know she reads, because she posts them. I know she loves me, and is busy, but is it too much to ask her to pick up the phone, or just drop me a personal little message from time to time?

~Neglected Grandma

Dear Neglected,

No, it is not too much to ask. Sadly, I'd say you should probably count yourself among the lucky grandparents out there, since you at least have the regular contact that her blog brings you, but that sort of impersonal contact is certainly no substitute for real communication. She should be grateful to have a grandmother who actually gets on the internet and reads about her life, and you should tell her as much. I know it can be hard to bring these things up, you might consider emailing her this column, that ought to get the point across.

~Ann Landers

Almost paradise

2005-06-02T15:37:00.000-07:00

Kind of amazing how quickly some good cheese, bad wine, and great company can make the memories of an abysmal day fade away.

I was daydreaming for a minute today, and managed to bump into a wall, and then a few seconds later, a doorframe. I haven't done crap like that since I was 13. Those were some seriously good memories I was revisiting.

Dear Ann Landers..

2005-06-02T13:49:00.000-07:00

Dear Ann Landers,

My boyfriend hasn't responded to any of my emails in 8 days. We have seen each other, and talked to each other in this time, and he'll even bring up things I said in my emails, so I know he's reading them, and I know he loves me, but it still bothers me when he doesn't respond. I've talked to him about it, and he always seems sorry, but it never changes. What should I do?

~Waiting by the Computer

Dear Waiting,

I know how tough it can be to fail to get responses when you want them, but you may be over-reacting. Remember that not everybody likes to communicate via email, and the fact that he does address the things you say when he sees you in person, leads me to believe that he may be one of these people. As long as the lines of communication are open, I wouldn't worry about the particular medium being used. Try to think of other ways to communicate with him, instead of using email, so you can get the responses you need, when you need them.

~Ann Landers

Editors note: This was a fictional representation of an Ann Landers column. Ann Landers was not actually involved in the production of this post. Please don't sue me.

This is not my idea of a good time

2005-06-01T13:37:00.000-07:00

You know how I've been saying that I'm not particularly irritable with the not smoking, this time around? I lied. Got a lady sitting next to me today who is talking to customers on the phone, and I want to strangle her. Let me give you an idea of just how dumb this lady is, this is an excerpt from an actual call she took.

"Okay ma'am, there have been 18 payments made on this account, so that means.....*hesitates WAY too long* This would be the 19th payment owing"
*customer response*
"I'll count again ma'am, hold on a minute while I count. *extended silence* Ma'am, I can't count when you're talking, just a minute while I count."
"Yes ma'am, we've received 18 payments. So yes, the payment due on the 21st was the 18th payment. No, I'm sorry, the 19th payment, no, wait....Let me put you on hold for a minute...."

How flipping hard is it to count to 18?

Yeah, I'm irritable.

Said he couldn't go on the American way

2005-05-31T13:56:00.000-07:00

Amusing overheard quote of the day:

"I'm trying to be a good American, and go out and buy stuff."
~Merry Newcomer (who happens to be my supervisor)

2005-05-31T11:43:00.000-07:00

Had a pretty amazing long weekend, despite the quitting smoking thing, which one might imagine would put a damper on general merriment.

Really, I didn't do much of anything, but mostly I didn't do much of anything in really good company, which makes all the difference.

I'm kinda tempted to get all girly and disgustingly sweet and stuff here, but I'm restraining myself. Instead I'm gonna settle for vaguely referencing half a slice of pizza, the significance of which is likely only known to me.

2005-05-29T18:47:00.000-07:00

Time for another series of I-quit-smoking-and-it's-been-this-long-and-this-is-how-it's-going-and-this-is-what-I'm-doing-to-keep-my-mind-off-it posts.

I smoked my last cigarette Friday night, and I've managed to completely avoid committing homicide, or even assault, so I'm counting it as a success! Yesterday was tough at times, but even easier than the last time I tried to quit, me-thinks. I'm fairly certain I didn't snap at anybody, but since I spent the better part of the day locked away in my little room, that's not the world's most impressive accomplishment.

Today I faced the world, and took it by storm! Ok, not really. I did brave the mall on Memorial Day weekend though, which is a daunting task, for sure. I set out with the purchase of shorts in mind, white shorts that cover the entirety of my butt, without going past my knees, specifically. I was rather surprised at the level of difficulty in obtaining an article of clothing that fell within these parameters. I had assumed it would be a fairly commonplace item, but it would seem that the style of the season is either capri's, which are not flattering on yours truly, or oh-my-God-those-shorts-are-short-short-shorts. Now I like short-shorts as much as the next girl who likes short-shorts but still expects them to cover her rear, but these things were ridiculous. And there were TONS of them. I guess I'm a little out of the proverbial loop where fashion is concerned, and perhaps I would've been excited about this turn towards skimpy when I was 14, and weighed roughly three quarters of an ounce, but today, with my size 10 figure that I'm honestly quite pleased with, I want a little more.

Anyway, I eventually found the shorts I was looking for, but was still unfulfilled, so I continued to wander around, looking at all the things there were to look at. I wandered the clothing sections of pretty much all of the stores in the mall that I'm willing to walk into, and during this time I realized some things:

1) I wouldn't want to be caught dead in the majority of the stuff in the various "junior's" departments. I don't like the patterns, I don't like the cuts, I despise the beading, and the sequins, and while the colors are fine, do they have to put them all together like that? I'm not sure if I'm growing up, or if this season's designers are just taking a little too much crack, but either way, it's kinda weird.

2) Shopping on a holiday weekend is a bad idea.

3) I think I'm becoming a fan of the color pink. I ended up with 2 pink tank-tops, 2 pink bras, and a number of pairs of underwear that have pink on them.

4) People with underwear addictions shouldn't go to the mall unsupervised. All total, I purchased my one pair of shorts, 2 tank tops, 4 bras, and 6 pair of underwear. And the ladies at Victoria's Secret tell me that they're getting new colors in on Tuesday. New colors!

5) Probably the people who read my blog aren't going to be nearly as excited about the new colors as I am.

So yeah, that was my afternoon.
This morning it was pointed out to me that just about everything is making me happy these days, and darned if that isn't the case. There are big things that are making me happy that are making the little things that make me happy make me happier (wow, that was convoluted, even for me) and that's pretty darned cool.

2005-05-28T18:05:00.000-07:00

So, some of you took my quiz, 18 of you, in fact, at least at this point. The average score worked out to 33.33, so if you got 40 or higher, you did better than average, that's one hell of a curve, huh? Now I'm gonna break down some statistics I find interesting, because I can.

Average score of people who have known me for more than 4 years (4) 27.5
Average score of people currently in serious relationships with ex-boyfriends of mine (2) 20
Average score of co-workers (5) 32
Average score of ComedySportz players (4) 37.5
Average score of men (8) 38.75
Average score of women (10) 27
Average score of people who were at lazer tag last night (5) 46
Average score of people who were at brushfire today (4) 52.5

Here's the breakdown of people's answers, correct answers have the percentage of people who got them correct next to them.

1) What is my middle name?
a) Catherine-7
b) Candice-4 22%
c) Lindsay-6
d) Lisa-1

2) My favorite restaurant serves what kind of food?
a) Chinese-9 50% (Ocean Sky, my favorite dish is their Chef's Special friend rice)
b) Italian-1
c) Burgers-3
d) Thai-5

3) What color are my eyes?
a) Green-2
b) Brown-3
c) Hazel-9 (What the heck? Half of ya'll think I have Hazel eyes? I always thought my eyes were one of my nicer features, but apparently they're rather forgettable)
d) Blue-4 22%

4) I started going to college when I was
a) 12-4 22% (started)
b) 14-5 (dropped out)
c) 16-7 (went back)
d) 18-1 (finally got my 2 year degree)

5) I do NOT have family in which of the following states?
a) Virginia-3
b) New York-7
c) Florida-3
d) Arizona-5 28%

6) How many sisters do I have?
a) 6-9
b) 8-6
c) 10-2 11% (Dawn, Caron, Lisa, Deborah, Ami, Holly, Al, Kalinda, Mickey, Iana)
d) 12-1

7) What is my favorite color? (these have all been favorites of mine, at one point or another, purple's merely my current fave)
a) Gray-3
b) Purple-5 28%
c) Red-4
d) Blue-6

8) I wear shoes with at least 1"-2" heels most of the time because
a) I'm insecure about my height-0
b) I have bad arches-4 -22%
c) I think they make me look sexier-6
d) Trick question!-8 (wasn't a trick question, but turned out it was a bit of a trick answer :P)

9) My non-alcohlic beverage of choice is
a) Pepsi-3
b) Diet Coke-13 72% (the only answer that won by a majority vote!)
c) Water-1
d) Dr. Pepper-1 (hate the stuff)

10) Of the following, my alcoholic beverage of choice is
a) Whatever's cheapest-3
b) Beer-1 (Icky! Bad!)
c) Anything with rum in it-5
d) Wine-9 50%

Sleeping dogs.

2005-05-27T14:23:00.000-07:00

Ok, just for the record, this song in no way resembles my life as it is now, nor is it particularly representative of how my life has been, I just like it.

Why do we torment each other?

Why can't we just let sleeping dogs lay?

Beat each other to the bone,

and make up all in one day,

Yes, I'm getting pretty tired of living life this way

Chorus

Cause it's a love hate kind of thing,

I don't know if you know

that it's driving me insane

I don't know where to go

With this love hate kind of thing,

this love hate kind of thing

Why do you say it's black?

I know it's white

Why can't we just call it quits with out a fight?

I don't think you're very smart,

you don't think I'm very pretty

Guess we never thought at all,

and it seems like such a pity

Chorus

I looked at the sky,

holding my hands over my eyes

till I fell out of bed,

hurting my head,

from things that you said

Why do we torment each other?

Why cant we just let sleeping dogs lay?

Beat each other to the bone,

and make up all in one day

Yes, I'm getting pretty tired of living life this way

chorus

I wanted to thank you, for giving me the best day of my life

2005-05-26T15:16:00.000-07:00

I had a fantastic day yesterday. I wanna scream from the rooftops what a fabulous day I had. I don't know if I can do it justice though, so this is it for now.

2005-05-26T14:31:00.000-07:00

Take my Quiz on QuizYourFriends.com!

The end of an era

2005-05-23T23:20:00.000-07:00

My house is officially not my house anymore. My name no longer belongs to it, and it no longer belongs to me. This ties up the last of the loose ends regarding the increasingly inaccurately named trilogy that was my marriage. This is cause for celebration, I suppose, and really, I'm rather excited, but there's still a little part of me that finally died today. It needed to die, it was it's time to die, perhaps past it's time, but it's passing did not go unnoticed, at least not to me.

I'm free. Really, truly, finally free.

There is only one more thing on which my name and his still exist, and it's not something I care about. Granted, when the time comes, I will go, and I will sign my name, but it holds no emotional significance for me. Not like the house did.

Did I ever tell you about my house? Did I wax nostalgic about the joys of home-ownership? Did I talk about my vaulted ceilings, and my master bathroom? Did I tell you how many things I baked in that oven? How about how many times I cried in the "guest" room? Did I tell the story of how the doors were dented? Did I mention the lilac that my Mama gave me, that I planted in the front yard? Did I say how much I loved that house? Did I say how much I hated that house? Did I try, and fail, to explain how scared I was living there alone? How every little noise reminded me of how scared I was when I didn't live there alone? Did I talk about the fact that I eventually turned the ringer off on my phone, and how sometimes the sound of my own voice on the answering machine would terrify me? Did I ever really make it clear to you that despite the fact that I had wanted to live there forever, that getting the hell out of there was the best thing I could have done for my emotional health?

I suppose none of that matters now. It's over now. It's a dream, and a nightmare, that I can finally put to rest. Will somebody say a little prayer, as I lower it into the ground?

Overkill

2005-05-22T15:37:00.000-07:00

The more I listen to this song, the more I realize how very much it reflects the way I relate to the world. I'm working on it though.

I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know I'll be alright
Perhaps it's just imagination

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away

Alone between the sheets
Only brings exasperation
It's time to walk the streets
Smell the desperation
At least there's pretty lights
And though there's little variation
It nullifies the night from overkill

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Come back another day

I can't get to sleep
I think about the implications
Of diving in too deep
And possibly the complications
Especially at night
I worry over situations
I know I'll be alright
It's just overkill

Day after day it reappears
Night after night my heartbeat shows the fear
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away
Ghosts appear and fade away

2005-05-21T18:20:00.000-07:00

After receiving a call from a friend of mine who doesn't often call me, and never calls just to see how I am, (which, for the record, is perfectly alright with me, and not in any way meant to spur on a barrage of phone calls inquiring as to my well-being) it occurred to me that just because I know I'm doing surprisingly well, doesn't mean that the rest of the world realizes this. I think I really managed to get most of the sadness out of my system on Monday and Tuesday, today's really just been another day.

I went out to breakfast this afternoon with the lovely Amber, and we did talk about my Daddy a little bit, mostly just in passing, but it was good to realize that I could talk about it without having even the minorest of fits. She asked if his death had been sudden, or if I'd been prepared, and here's roughly what I told her:

He always worried that he would die when I was young. He and I talked about it often, I don't remember a time in my life when we hadn't discussed it. We lived in the country, and the drive into town every day took about 30 minutes, and I can recall so many times when he would tell me the things that would happen when he died, where I would go, who I would live with, even little things like what would happen to the animals, and that he didn't want a funeral. And I remember I would turn away from him, and look out the window, not wanting him to see me crying, because if he did, I knew he'd tell me it was nothing to cry about, it was a fact of life, and that he wasn't planning on "going anywhere" but that I needed to be prepared in case something did happen to him.

Here's what I didn't tell her:

I remember being about 7 years old, and standing outside the living room window, while he and Suzy, a once and future lover of his, were arguing. They were yelling loud enough that I could hear every word they were saying, and I remember concentrating with every fiber of my being, praying that if I just thought about it hard enough I could make them stop. I remember the feel of my face flushing as I literally held my breath. I remember knowing that it had to stop, that something really bad was going to happen if it didn't. I also remember the feelings of guilt after it was all over, because I knew that something awful was going to happen, and I hadn't stopped it.
I remember him coming out of the house, and her following him, beating on his back, and still screaming. He looked at me, and calmly asked if I wanted to go get a hamburger, I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, and we got into the truck. I remember Suzy getting into the back of the truck, yelling that he wasn't going to run away from her, that they weren't finished, and I glared at her, if looks could have killed, she wouldn't have taken in another breath, the way my 7 year old eyes glared at her. Daddy told her to get the hell out of his truck, and when she wouldn't, he got out and tried to force her out. I remember sitting inside the truck, watching as he tried to pull her out by her long, brown hair, I remember hating him in that moment, and hating her, and hating them, these two people that I loved, tearing each other apart, for reasons I couldn't fathom. I remember the expression on his face, when he looked in on me, and realized what he was doing, what I was seeing, and so he stopped, and he walked away, heading down our 1/4 mile driveway, with who knows what in mind.
I remember not knowing what I should do, if I should follow him, go inside, try to help Suzy, who was holding her head and crying, or just stay where I was. I eventually decided that I needed to be with my Daddy, got out of the truck, and started running to catch up with him. Suzy looked up at this point, and told me to go inside, which I ignored.
I was scared when I reached him, this man who was always running and jumping around, who now was moving at a snail's pace, still red in the face, and breathing heavily. I asked if he was okay, and he told me he thought he needed to sit down for a little bit, so we did. We sat in the grass, across the way from the chicken coop, and he told me he thought he was having a heart attack. I asked what I should do, and he told me to just keep her away from him.
Seconds, minutes, or hours later, I honestly don't know, I saw her rounding the bend, heading towards us, and I got up to waylay her, which I wasn't able to do. I begged her, screamed and cried, and even tugged on her arms, telling her to stay away from him, but she wouldn't' be deterred. When she reached him she started yelling again, and he stood up, and resumed walking down the driveway, saying that we were going to go to the neighbor's house, so that he could get a ride to the hospital. He made it about another city block, or so, before he couldn't walk anymore, and he told me to go get the neighbor's, as he laid down again. Suzy yelled at me to stop, and even threatened me, not to go, but for the second time that day, which was also the second time ever, I disobeyed her.
I ran as fast as my little legs would carry me, terrified that he would be dead before I got back, but I made it, and the neighbor's drove back up to where he and Suzy were. She acted as though she had no idea what had happened when we got there, and even rode in the car with us to the hospital. The rest of what happened that day is a blur, I don't know how we got back home, or who stayed the night with me, but I do remember Suzy coming into my room in the middle of the night, as she was leaving, to go back to Ashland, where she lived, and telling me: "I'm sorry you had to see that, but you know how your father can be"
That was the wrong thing to say to a young girl who just witnessed her father have a heart attack.

Daddy was in the hospital for a horrible week, laying there, ashen and weak, with tubes running out of his nose, and his arms, and no sparkle in his eyes, but he lived another decade, so yeah, I was prepared.

2005-05-19T21:54:00.000-07:00

Feeling like a bit of a child and a bit of an adult right now, split straight down the middle, which makes for interesting internal conversations.

My "chores" and my "homework" are self-imposed now, which qualifies under the adult heading, but I still found myself grumbling a bit, to no one but myself, as I folded my laundry, while watching "Star Wars" for the second Thursday in row, which is undeniably childish.

"But I wanna go out" my inner-child whines, as the ever-patient inner-adult attempts to soothe it by offering it a glass of wine once the laundry folding is complete
"What about the socks? Do have to match all the pairs? I hate that part"
"Yes. Last time I let you off the hook on that one, and you saw what a mess that got us into. There will be no wine until all of the laundry is folded"
"Do I have to put it all away too?"
"How about you put half of it away, and then we pause the movie, and you can drink your wine and entertain yourself on the internet for a few minutes"
"Oh-kay-ay" I respond to myself, still whining a bit, lest the adult me catch on to the mischievous grin appearing on my face, because I now know that the other half of the laundry won't get put away, nor will the other half of the movie get watched, once responsible-me relinquishes control for a few minutes, immature-me will seize the reins, and play solitaire all night, if that's what it takes to keep us away from the stuff we should be doing.

There's still compromise going on here, which appeases my responsible side, I'm not going out to 80's night, and I'll go to bed relatively early, even though all of me is in agreement that sleep will not come easily tonight, if at all. But I have to be up extra early in the morning to take care of the final signing of documents for the sale of my house, which is a chore I'm not looking forward to, but even my inner-child can't come up with a way to get out of it.

I will always love you

2005-05-16T23:06:00.000-07:00

Saturday will be the 7 year anniversary of my Daddy's death. It's hitting me harder this year than it has in quite some time.

Sometimes when I'm being weirdly emotional about shit that's bothering me for reasons I'm not sure of, I just think. I don't think I can adequately explain the thought process involved, but basically I try to compare and contrast, well, everything, and wait until something makes me start bawling. Sadly, I tend to do this while driving, it's really kind of amazing I haven't gotten myself or someone else killed in the process. The good news: I'm getting really good at driving while I cry.

I did just this tonight, trying to ascertain the reasons behind this year's relapse into depression over the loss of my father, and you know what got me? I'm happy. For the first time since my Daddy died, my life is going really well, and I'm doing really well in it, and damnit, he'd be really fucking proud of me, and I wish so badly that I could see the look on his face when I told him everything that's going on in my life.

I know that he would come to ComedySportz every weekend, and I know he would tell anybody who would listen "that's my daughter up there, isn't she amazing?" and I know that he would tell me all sorts of things that I did wrong after the show, he'd push me to be better, and maybe I wouldn't even realize how proud he was, with all the nagging he was doing, but I'd hear about the things he said to other people.

I know that he'd be unhappy that I never finished school, that I still haven't decided what I wanna be when I "grow up" but he'd be glad that I have a job that I like, and a supervisor who appreciates me, and he'd be all too happy to hear me brag about how I got the highest raise they give out for my 1 year review, and he'd be appropriately outraged to hear that I didn't even get an interview for that supervisor position I applied for.

There's just so much I wanna share with him, little stuff, big stuff, stuff that only a parent really cares about. I want to tell him all the little projects I have in the works, and I want to introduce him to all my wonderful friends. I want him to read my blog, even though I know I'd have to print it out and give it to him, and I'm sure he'd circle crap and give it back to me, telling me what I did wrong, and how I could improve my writing style.

He was my everything, growing up. It was just the two of us for the longest time, and Lord knows he wasn't perfect, but he was all I had, and now I have so much, so very much good in my life, but I don't have him anymore, and there's a big gaping hole in my heart, where he should be.

But I'm happy, even though I never really wanted to be happy without him. A part of me feels guilty for being happy in a life that he's not in. And I know that's ridiculous, but it's one of the things that makes me cry the hardest, so it must be true.

Don't wanna play this game no more

2005-05-15T16:06:00.000-07:00

Last night, while outside for a cigarette, some girls came along. Now these weren't just any girls, they were particularly intoxicated girls, a common variety, for sure, but more than a little interesting, nonetheless. We heard them coming, and I was looking out for them when they emerged from behind a car, literally falling over themselves, and each other. Now I make a habit of watching the drunk and disorderly, and laughing at them, and this was no exception, at least not at first. I watched as they fell down, as two of them propped the third (Laura) between them, dragging her along, as Laura started running away from them, even as she ran into the middle of the street. I watched, with some concern mixed in with the amusement, as they ended up tackling her, and holding her on the wet ground, right across the street from where I was standing, I heard the most sober of the 3 (Lauren) attempt to call people to get a ride, and then, I could watch no more.

There was no way these girls were going anywhere with Laura in the condition she was, and as much as I generally tend to despise drunk sorority girl types, I knew that somebody had to help them, and it looked as though the gods had elected me. And so, across the street I went, to offer them a ride, which they gratefully accepted. Getting Laura back across the street with no fatalities was a small, but short-lived victory, because no amount of persuasion could get her into the back of my car. Lauren and Mckenzie pushed, prodded, and pulled, with Lauren losing a shoe in the process, to no avail. Laura managed to wrangle herself loose from them, saying she needed to puke, which she then failed to do, instead taking this grand opportunity to try to run away again. At this point I was no longer watching with amused detatchment, I wanted to get these girls into, and then out of, my car as soon as possible, and go back to the lovely quiet evening I had been enjoying, and so, I stowed my purse in my car, and decided that the fact that I didn't know this girl at all was not going to stop me from participating in the oh-so-fun-and-exciting game of pick-the-drunk-girl-up-and-throw-her-into-the-backseat that the other girls were enjoying. And so I did, Mckenzie grabbed her shoulders, I grabbed her waist, and Lauren grabbed her legs, and we carried her back to the car. Getting her all the way in was another bit of hilarity, Mckenzie ended up crawling over her, and yanking on her armpits, while Lauren and I were at the other end trying to get the door shut. It was a bit like trying to get a cat into a carrier, you can't just shut their legs in the door, but you can't get them out of the way either.

Normally I'm a bit of a stickler for making folks put their seatbelts on, but at this point I settled for Lauren, in the front seat (still minus a shoe, it somehow ended up under Laura) getting hers on, and I activated my child protection locks in the backseat, lest Laura decide that she didn't want to be in the car anymore, while we were moving. We're barely out of the parking lot when she starts throwing up. Now I knew this was going to happen, before I offered them a ride I knew, but that didn't really make it any more pleasant. She spends a couple of minutes throwing up, and then passes out, much to everyone's relief. Meanwhile Lauren is on the phone, trying to get some help from Laura's dorm-mates in sneaking her up to her dorm, which she is finally able to do.

I dropped them off on the side of the street, to a group of 4 waiting friends, Laura had to be pulled out of the car, in much the same way she was shoved in, except minus the kicking and fighting, I'm pleased to report that there was more vomit on her than their was in my car, though that still doesn't help my car out much.

I'm almost done cleaning the backseat up, I've got all the really gross stuff taken care of, it's just the detail work that's left (cleaning the goop from the metal and plastic parts of the seatbelt, you know, those hard to reach places) and I did get to enjoy the I-know-what-this-person-ate-based-solely-on-the-contents-of-their-vomit game, which I don't recommend, but when you're stuck cleaning it up, you (or at least I) can't help but notice all the solid bits. I've ascertained that the only solids she had in her stomach were garnishes. Cherries, olives, and onions, in case you were wondering.

2005-05-14T10:24:00.000-07:00

It occurred to me yesterday to wonder how much I weigh.

This is only remarkable because I'm having a hard time remembering the last time I wondered this, and an even harder time recalling the last time I found out.

The last time I spent a good deal of time caring about such things I weighed right around 155, then I went through a period where I wasn't weighing myself regularly, but was aware that I was losing weight, and I recall going to the doctor's office, and being excited to find out that I actually weighed ever so slightly less than the 135 that my license says. (I was 17 when I submitted my weight as such, and though it was relatively accurate at the time, it had been relatively inaccurate pretty much ever since) That was just about a year ago. I know I've weighed myself since then, I must have, but I don't recall the results. I've gained and lost weight in the last year, but I think I've pretty much stayed roughly in that 135-155 range.

I'm happy with the way I look and feel right now, though I suspect that if I were to weigh myself today, I'd find that I weigh around 140-145, and I'd feel as though I need to lose 10-15 pounds, because that's just the way I am.

Some things never change, but some things do.

Just settle down, settle down, settle down.

2005-05-13T16:39:00.000-07:00

Editor's note: If you read my LJ, don't bother reading this. It is only one word away from being exactly the same as this morning's LJ post. And in case you were wondering, I do not intend to make a habit of cross posting.

I went to Dutch Bros this morning, as I often do, to get my morning coffee, but I was a little ahead of schedule, and got there at a peak time for them, and so, with bunches of cars ahead of me, I decided to park and go to the walk up window, thereby enjoying the outdoors for a few minutes, and getting a better look at the cute coffee boys.

One of the less fortunate members of society was ahead of me in the walk up line, which was fine, except that he was upwind of me, but what're you gonna do? Anyhow, I get up there, order my white-chocolate mocha, look over, and notice a guy who works for the parking lot people with his little scanner thingy, making note of who is parked there, and getting steadily closer to my car. He is slowed down when he comes across another car that doesn't belong, and has to go back to the little pay station to get everything together to write his ticket, and I almost think I'm gonna be able to get my coffee and get out of there before he reaches my car when I realize that the coffee boy isn't making my coffee right then, he's making the coffee of the lady in the car next to me. Darn and blast I think to myself, as I realize that there's no way now that I'm going to avoid the guy getting to my car with his all knowing, all seeing scanner, and I'm just hoping I'll be able to get there before he actually writes the ticket, and be able to talk my way out of it. But then, to my great shock and amazement, he looks at my car, looks at me, and goes on to the next one.

How cool is that?

They've got to be taught, before it's too late, before they are 6, or 7 or 8

2005-05-12T18:42:00.000-07:00

I am absolutely certain that the neighbor children could be more annoying right now. 100% certain, but I can't think how right off the top of my head.

They are currently screaming an alternating refrain of:

Lets go raiders, lets go!

and:

Gimmie a 1, (the other child echoes with a hearty 1!) 2, (2!) 3, (3) 4, (4) 5, (5) etc.... At some point the second one quits echoing the first, and they just count at the top of their lungs to 20 or so. I think they're taking turns at this, alternating between leading and echoing each other, but can't be sure, because I'm trying so very hard to ignore them.

I haven't been a fan of the Raiders since they left whatever town it was they were in, and moved to whatever town they moved to (this is me, this is me being too lazy to look the shit up, any questions?) and honestly (as I'm sure you've already gathered, given the startlingly small amount of information I seem to have retained regarding them) I wasn't a huge fan back then. Really football just isn't my thing, I mean, I like to sit on the couch, crunch potato chips, drink whatever's handy and watch a game as much as the next girl who isn't a big fan of football, and I can even get excited about it, under the right circumstances, but I just don't get the rabid fan thing. And I certainly don't understand why one would encourage their children to take up annoying football-fan tendencies, such as screaming the previously mentioned refrains, over and over, and over again.

I oughta shoot their parents.

WHOOOOOOOO-FREAKING-HOOOOOOOOOOO

2005-05-12T10:37:00.000-07:00

I just broke 10,000 hits.

Wow.

Who wants to help????

2005-05-12T10:31:00.000-07:00

OK, so there's some leftover garbage at my old house, a computer desk, some random crap that was in the backyard, and leftover garage stuff. The house is due to close on or around the 20th of this month, and the remaining "stuff" has to be out of there before then. I'd like to take care of it on Sunday, if possible, but I'm gonna need the help of somebody who has a truck or trailer of some sort.

I'd be forever grateful.

2005-05-11T11:25:00.000-07:00

I'm going to quit smoking again. It'll be fun! Like merry-go-rounds, and stuff.

Strangely enough, the actual inspiration to do so came from a trip to the pharmacy. You see, I was going to get a prescription refilled, but I couldn't find the old one with the RX number on it, I could only find the empty bottle for the stop-smoking anti-depressant pills, so I decided, while I was there anyway, I might as well fill it up too.

So now I'm all drugged and stuff, and feeling more than a little loopy, but I'm pleased with my choice.

The official last day of smoking date is set for May 27th. Everybody watch out.

2005-05-10T12:01:00.000-07:00

I had a very surreal, mostly fantastic, long weekend. Here's an incomplete list of what I did: (In mostly chronological order)

Had a pretty good show at ComedySportz.
Coddled my sick boyfriend.
Went to IHOP at 1am.
Went out to breakfast.
Wanted to buy a car.
Played tennis.
Got a sunburn.
Ate the country's best yogurt
Unsuccessfully shoe-shopped
Enjoyed what may have been the longest grocery shopping trip ever.
Got mad.
Witnessed a proverbial train wreck
Ate homemade apple pie
Watched Mystery Science Theatre 3000
Took a 15 year old girl home.
Talked about being in a band.
Realized that only half of the people at the party were awake.
Had my plans changed.
Found out that I can't get into my work on Sundays.
Bonded with my family
Lamented my maturity.
Watched the "L word" and "Family Guy"
Got enough sleep.
Was immature.
Went out to lunch at the Crappy Chinese Buffett.
Bought CDs
Followed the signs.
Changed the song so that the soundtrack would be appropriate.
Climbed the sand dune of doom.
Ran down the other side.
Felt like I was in a movie.
Had a magical moment where I contemplated my smallness in relation to the universe.
Talked about God.
Picked up a rock and a shell, to add to my rock and shell collection.
Worried aloud that I might hurt someone with my hairbrush.
Went to a casino.
Had a bit of an ordeal over sauce.
Enjoyed some truly excellent food.
Wished the service wasn't quite so good.
Went to karaoke.
Subjected someone to a huge amount of bitching.
Drank some more.

And all that jazz

2005-05-08T17:10:00.000-07:00

It's been pointed out to me (I love you, Grandma) that I've been neglecting my blogging duties, as of late, and I do apologize.

Life has been going along in much the same fashion as it usually does, I'd like to say I've been neglecting the internet due to some unforseen business that has kept me perpetually away from a keyboard, but that isn't the case, I've been busyish, but that's really no excuse.

I think it mostly boils down to a general sense of happiness with my life, and the world in general. My job is going quite well, I still haven't had any news on the supervisor position, but as I've said before, I'm really happy where I'm at, so if that never happens, it's really quite alright with me. ComedySportz is continuing to do well, our audiences are staying consistently decent in size, and my performances seem to be getting consistently better. (but really, I had nowhere to go but up, so that shouldn't be as happily surprising as I find it) Add to that the fact that I'm in the midst of a new romance with a boy I'm simply crazy about, and you have yourself a recipe for a very happy girl.

Is there a letter in your bag for me?

2005-05-03T22:57:00.000-07:00

I just received the loveliest email, the details of which I won't share here. I'd like very much to respond in kind, but lately I seem to lack the required vocabulary to express certain things, and "ditto" just doesn't seem sufficient. I'm not entirely sure what's causing it, but it's beginning to annoy me. I think I'm normally pretty good at expressing myself, and this recent tendency to be unable to coherently express my thoughts is troublesome, to say the least.

I have my theories on what may be causing it, and hope, as usual that if I simply ignore it long enough the problem will go away. If I'm correct about the source of the problem, the ignoring it may well work for me, but alas, I fear that my methodology in the diagnostic process may not be entirely unbiased, and with that in mind, I must realize that any conclusions I do come to are highly suspect.

I'm starting to wish I'd sprung for that copy of "Self-analysis for Dummies"

2005-05-03T16:57:00.000-07:00

My Ballot Box

Should I get my hair cut?

Total votes 18

Yes, but just a trim, your split ends are out of control (2)

11%

No, keep the scissors away from you, woman! (1)

I can't even begin to express how little I care (0)

Shave it all off, and donate it to cancer patients (3)

17%

I think your hair is ugly, I doubt cutting it will help (0)

I think your hair is ugly, I think cutting it might help (0)

Have you concidered that the butch look might really be "you"? (1)

Get a geeky "willow" style chin length cut, to suit your personality (3)

17%

Just so long as it's long enough for me to hang on to when I'm.....Err....Nevermind (5)

28%

Keep it longer than shoulder length, or I'll hurt you (3)

17%

I have an opinion that you're not smart enough to have thought of, I'll leave a comment (0)

Looks as though I'm leaving the hair as it is for the time being. Dying it was enough to satisfy my hair-must-change cravings for a little while anyway.

I'm too sexy for my shirt

2005-05-01T17:47:00.000-07:00

Went out to lunch with some friends at a restaurant we dine in with some regularity, and have always been pleased with in the past.

I ended up getting my meal for free, since I ate only one quarter of my club (think caveman wielding a big stick, not "glee" or even "chess") sandwich. When our waitress, who was fairly adept at ignoring our every request, came to clear our plates, bring us boxes, and the like, got to me, and I informed her that I did not, in fact, wish to take the remainder of my icky sandwich home with me, explaining that I had not, in fact, liked the thing, she responded in the most condescendingly sweet and innocent way that I simply should have told her, and they would have fixed or replaced it.

That would've worked, had it not taken half an hour for our food to get to us in the first place, and had every attempt to try to get ahold of her during our meal not fallen upon deaf ears.

In the end I didn't end up having to pay for it though, and everybody else had food they were willing to let me nibble on, so I got a free meal out of the deal, which pleases me greatly.

In other good deal news: we went to Goodwill afterwards, where I picked up 2 books by one of my favorite authors, 2 CD's (one of which is the soundtrack to a movie I've never seen) and a lovely robe, which I've actually been looking for. I have a nice warm winter robe, which I never wear, and actually spent an afternoon at the mall a couple of weeks ago looking for a solid colored, satin thing, just something to put on in the mornings when I'm not quite ready to be clothed, but don't wanna be nekkid anymore either, as I sit in front of my computer and check up on all of the things that happened on the internet while I slumbered.

Normally when shopping at Goodwill I shy away from the pajama area, because looking at used negligees isn't really my cup of tea, but I happened to notice this one as I walked by, because it's red, and my hummingbird tendencies come out this time of year, leaving me powerless to resist the urge to get closer to all things red. It's perfect. Perfect I say. It's exactly what I've been looking for, in a color I adore, and when I got up to the register, they informed me that it was half price! (something about the color of the tag)

I'm wearing it right now, because I couldn't stop myself, and having the satin against my skin makes me feel a little sexy.

2005-04-30T18:12:00.000-07:00

I'm trying to make up for my lack of actual content by posting photos. Is it working?

I think I'll go outside for awhile

2005-04-30T16:42:00.000-07:00

Days like today make me really miss having a dog-shaped excuse to put my bathing suit on and go splash around in the river and get a little muddy.

Our house, in the middle of our street

2005-04-28T15:49:00.000-07:00

My house sold!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Are you strong enough?

2005-04-28T09:18:00.000-07:00

Alternate title: One psychosis leads to another.

On the way to work this morning, I was struck with the realization that I was experiencing de ja vu. Now this isn't an altogether uncommon experience for me, but the circumstances were. You see, I was driving, by myself. The de ja vu was in reference to an internal conversation I was having. It was one of those make-believe conversations, where I pretend I'm me, and then pretend that I'm them, and respond. It's not quite as crazy as it sounds, it's not as though I actually speak, it's just a thinking thing. Often I can work these things out internally without ever actually having to broach the subject with anyone else. It's also the inspiration for many of my posts. I notice things about myself that I don't normally notice, and had just come to one of these realizations when "Strong Enough" started playing on the radio, bringing back a flood of adolescent memories, most of which are actually pleasant, if disturbing.

The thing is, this was a song I used to sing along with, with the naivete and carelessness of youth to support me, and really feel that Sheryl was playing my song. Home alone on any given night, I could be found dancing around my room with this song on repeat, blasting it out, as loud as my little lungs would let me. Many of the lines in the song still have emotional significance for me, but a particular refrain struck me this morning:

"Lie to me, I promise I'll believe, lie to me, but please don't leave"

This is not the sort of interaction I want to have in my life. But once, I really was content with that reasoning. Once upon a time I would sing that line with conviction.

How sad.

The waiting is the hardest part

2005-04-27T18:57:00.000-07:00

Still waiting on important life things to fall into place, and getting more than a little impatient about their failure to have done so already, but I'm continuing to reassure myself that these things always have a way of working out for me. Probably I shouldn't count on my guardian angel too much, lest he or she take a little vacation, but I don't see how getting myself into too much of a tizzy is going to help matters either.

I will get interviewed for the job, or I won't. I will get the job, or I won't. Either way is really alright. Really. I love what I'm doing right now, and though I don't see myself continuing to do it for the rest of my years, I know there will be other opportunities. It's really not worth getting myself worked up over. And if I get it, there will be a period of adjustment where I feel completely at a loss, don't have any idea what I'm doing, where I'm going, or how to get there, but it won't last long.

The sale of the house is another matter. That needs to happen now. I simply can't afford to make the mortgage payments. I'm worried about it with reason. But it's going to happen. Right away. And if it doesn't happen right away, I'll find a way. I always do. I know this about myself. No amount of stressing out over it is going to change the fact that it's going to be okay. If worst came to worst, there are people who I could borrow the money from. This is not an option I like. I've never borrowed money from anyone, (actually that's not true, I borrowed .50 from a co-worker the other day to get a soda, because I'd run out of cash, but that hardly counts) and I don't like the idea of starting, but I could.

2005-04-25T19:21:00.000-07:00

Apparently posting pictures of myself to my blog qualifies me as narcissistic. Does posting a picture of me and my reflection make me twice as narcissistic? Is it worse if you know that I spent 20 minutes getting rid of my red eye, and blacking out the background? Yeah, I thought so.

Dream of Californication

2005-04-24T10:44:00.000-07:00

I sang a song about California at ComedySportz last night. It was rather good, I think, and there were people in the back row cracking up about it. The back row, I say! You know what this means? This means I was actually loud enough for the folks who were sitting back there to hear me whine about how the Californians come up here after they retire and raise our property values.

It's funny 'cause it's true.

Beauty in the breakdown

2005-04-22T00:17:00.000-07:00

For the record, I actually have a burned copy of the "Garden State" soundtrack, which plays perfectly, except for the title song, which skips. A lot. I find this to be kinda comforting, to tell you the truth.

Been having no small number of minor communication glitches lately, nothing serious, and certainly no harm done, just little things, that end up being rather amusing.

Tonight I told a friend something I had kinda been hoping she would have already heard from someone else, only to find out, minutes later, that the person I had hoped would have already done the telling hadn't done so because he thought it was information I didn't want him to share with her.

But... but... but...

It ended up being rather amusing, it would seem he had actually gone to some lengths to keep this information private, and we all had a good laugh about it, but I still don't quite understand how I was so easily misconstrued.

Meh, C'est la vie.

Later I was asked why I had been behaving in a secretive manner around a subject I had felt I had done a rather successful job of broadcasting, far and wide, for all the world to see and hear.

Could it be, despite myself, I'm becoming more discreet in my old age?

Nope, don't think that's it.

On another note: Life is still fabulous. The birds are still singing, (not right now mind you, I'm not delusional or anything) the sun is still shining (see previous parenthetical remark) and I still have a grin a mile wide on my face.

Sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows

2005-04-20T13:55:00.000-07:00

It is the most beautiful day outside.

I wanna dance barefoot in the grass, swing on a swingset, leaning my head back, and letting my hair touch the sawdust, and giggle uncontrollably as I spin around and around, making myself dizzy.

Happy Holidays

2005-04-20T09:46:00.000-07:00

At the coffee stand this morning:

Coffee boy (to guy in car): Happy holiday, dude.
Guy in car: [unintelligible]
Me: What holiday is it?
Coffee boy: Uhm....Well.....It's the 20th day of the 4th month
Me: Ah.....
Coffee boy: Which, means that people smoke a lot of weed.

I feel really out of touch with reality. Or surreality, or something.

In other news: I have a fantabulous secret. Okay, it's not really a secret, except that I'm not talking about it, which makes it a secret, or makes me secretive, or something like that. But it's good stuff. Stay tuned, I may start posting hints.

Easy like Sunday morning.

2005-04-17T17:45:00.000-07:00

Feeling really happy lately, not entirely sure why, but I'm loving it.

I think I'm finally getting to a point in my life where everything is just, well, good. Of course there are, and will continue to be, ups and downs, but I'm hanging out in one of the ups at the moment.

The words just came out wrong

2005-04-16T02:38:00.000-07:00

I started writing a song in my head today, and continued doing so for hours, changing the lyrics and music around so much that what I ended with scarcely resembled what I began with. The only thing that stayed the same was the first line:

I wasted too much romance, in my misspent youth.

The next line started out as something like: I was looking for the answers, and searching for the truth, which didn't even come close to expressing what I wanted it to. After much toying around with it, I ended up with:

I spent so much time believing, that I couldn't see the truth.

I have very definite ideas about what I'm trying to express in those two lines, but I don't think I do so even close to adequately. I'm trying to fit nostalgia, regret, cynicism, and hope, all in two little lines, while at the same time trying to illustrate that I recognize the inherent dichotomies.

The rest is even less interesting.

Lady in red

2005-04-14T18:36:00.000-07:00

This is the 49 cent dress I picked up at Ross. A bargain at 20 times the price

Here's the full view of the dress.

You're a pal, and a confidant

2005-04-13T23:28:00.000-07:00

Thanks to all of you who have offered support and assurance about this supervisory position I'm applying for. I wish I was half as confident as ya'll seem to be. Truth be told, I'm terrified.

Simply by applying I'm putting myself on "the map" I'm going from being yet another nameless faceless drone in my company to someone who has ambition, someone who believes in their capabilities enough to bother to apply for this job. The job I'm in now is one that I've seen others attempt to, and fail to, obtain, but I chose to simply do the job I was doing as well as I could do it, until someone else noticed my excellence, and promoted me.

This is my M.O. I don't think I can explain the thought process behind it, but I've always been one to just do whatever I'm doing as well as it can be done, and wait for the world to notice. I think I do this out of fear. Fear of rejection. Fear of the unknown. Fear that someday, somebody is going to realize that I'm not nearly as cool as I sometimes like to think I am, and fear that if I were to act as though I thought I was that cool, that somebody would smack me down, as I'm sure I would deserve.

I think it also has a lot to do with faith and hope though. I think that somewhere inside me, deeply hidden of course, probably right around the spot where I hide my hopeless romanticism, and where all of my lost hairties can probably be found, I'm just waiting for the world to recognize how incredibly capable I am. And hopefully, to pay me for it.

Anyway, I started this all out with the intention to let everybody know that I doubt my chances of success are as great as ya'll seem to be thinking they might be. Just because I'm qualified doesn't mean I'll get it. There are dozens of other applicants, and one must imagine that at least half of them are as qualified as I am, and one must further imagine that at least half of them are less obnoxious than I am, which likely gives them a better shot at the positions.

But again, I'm still quite proud of myself for taking the step, and actually having a small amount of faith in myself, and being able to see that I am, in fact, qualified for the position, and all that jazz.

You will believe in me

2005-04-12T14:50:00.000-07:00

There are two supervisory positions opening up at my place of employment, the requirements and the "self-nomination" form were sent in a site-wide email yesterday, and upon looking them over, I realized that I'm really, really qualified. I'm not sure that I've been with the company long enough (if I was promoted, it would be effective on the one year anniversary of my official start date) but other than that, I have all of the qualifications they're looking for.

So I turned in my "self-nomination" form when I got to work today. I handed it over to my supervisor, (who, as many of you know, has only been my supervisor for a couple of months) and she grinned at me and shook my hand. I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it made me happy.

I have a hard time believing in myself, and a harder time expecting others to believe in me. Applying for this job was a big step for me, and I'm proud of myself, regardless of the outcome.

Hooked on a feeling

2005-04-10T01:49:00.000-07:00

In the midst of an IM conversation about crappy romantic music, (the title song included) I found the occasion to say:

When I'm single, I like to think that I could someday feel just what the folks are saying in the song, when I'm in a relationship I know better. I'm beginning to think I'm only a hopeless romantic when it's hopeless.

2005-04-09T01:05:00.000-07:00

The difference between a good day and a bad day is perspective.

In other news, I just broke 9,000 hits.

If I were a rich man, la di da di da di da di da di da di da di dum

2005-04-07T19:34:00.000-07:00

I met with my realtor today. Well, one of my realtors, it's actually a married couple, and I met with the husband today, signed papers, looked over assessments, and suchlike. It was nice. I feel grown up and responsible. I actually knew the answers to all of his questions, and I didn't spend the whole time wishing I had someone else there to defer to. I did defer to him a bit, I think, where certain things were concerned, but frankly I think that's more a matter of having respect for his knowledge on the subjects at hand than my own inability to make decisions.

As we were deciding on a listing price, he asked me if I would feel like I should have listed it for more if it sold within the first week or two it was on the market. This pleased me greatly. The answer, of course, was a resounding NO, but the fact that he would even ask the question gives me high hopes for having this whole house-selling ordeal behind in me in short order. I've had this worry in the back of my mind that I wasn't going to be able to actually get the money I put into it out of it, but if I actually get what I'm asking, I'll actually MAKE money on the deal, not a lot, mind you, but some.

I hope that his optimism isn't misplaced, because it's catching, and optimism isn't something I like to let myself experience too often. I'll keep my fingers crossed while I jump up and down with glee though, that should work.

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction

2005-04-07T00:41:00.000-07:00

I stopped by the 7-11 on the way home from a friends house tonight, to pick up yet another pack of the cigarettes I'd once thought I was free from. There was a substantial line, for a convenience store, and I slipped into an aisle to the side of where I though the end might be. I wasn't entirely sure, because behind the person just in front of the aisle (who happened to be a person of diminutive stature [not sure what the politically correct term is these days, but that seems nice enough, I hope all agree] which really doesn't have any bearing on this little tale, but helps set the slightly odd stage, I think) were a pair of men deep in conversation about the merits of vegetarianism, veganism, and eating meat. It wasn't an argument, just two guys sharing their thoughts on the subject. As the line moved forward these gentlemen turned around, and there came a point where I was a little unsure as to whether I should move forward in line ahead of them, or slip in behind them, so I inquired as to whether they were ahead of me. They advised me that they had, in fact, been in line, but offered to let me go ahead of them if I wanted to, which I declined, and slipped in behind them. They continued their conversation as the people in front of them purchased beer, chips, donettes, cigarettes, and the like, and I listened in, more than a little amused at the progress in their conversation.

By the time the first gentleman, who was a very tall, middle-aged black man with a hypnotic European accent, got to the counter to purchase his two packs of cigarettes and half-rack of cheap beer, and to inquire as to whether or not there were any flowers for sale, they were waxing nostalgic about various treats they had tasted at rainbow gatherings, and the like, and the second gentleman had motioned to the little bag containing two donuts that he carried 3 times, claiming that no matter how healthy veganism might be, he could never give up his donuts. As the second gentleman complete his transaction, purchasing his donuts, along with 2 24oz cans of (again) cheap beer, the first turned to me and told me that he would have given me a flower, but alas.......and wished me a goodnight. I thanked him, and I may even have blushed a bit, as I smoothed my hair, smiled, and wished him a lovely evening as well, only noticing the pentacle necklace at his throat as he turned to leave.

Many of you know that I have a bit of an issue with being nice to strangers these days. Until tonight I have found myself seemingly unable to be anything more than completely cold to strange men who have the audacity to make nice gestures, or say nice things to me as of late. It's not something I do on purpose, just an instinctual reaction, of sorts. Sometimes I'll even think to myself: "self, be nice, don't say anything blithe to this poor boy, say something sweet and polite, say something charming, do not, under any circumstances be sarcastic or belittling" but still, I find myself unable to control this reflex like reaction. Tonight it was easy. Tonight he was charming, and I was charmed.

As I walked out of the 7-11 I noticed 2 police cars across the street, and half a dozen police officers, some flashing their flashlights on the unmoving figure of the driver of a semi that was parked there, and other's looking around the area. The second gentleman was right outside the door, fiddling around with his backpack, the first was nowhere to be seen.

On the very short drive home, I was struck with the realization that I've been watching way too much "Buffy the vampire slayer."

Hiding underneath the smoke in the room

2005-04-06T17:12:00.000-07:00

Generic life update:

The realtors seem to think I should be able to get enough out of my house "as is" I meet with them tomorrow to iron out the details.

"Haiku Tunnel" is an excellent movie.

Because I'm such an incredibly nice person, I'm going to end up working 3 Saturdays this month.

I wish I had an oven, I have a suddenly overwhelming desire to bake a couple hundred cookies.

The L word may be the best TV show ever. EVER.

I want to learn how to play tennis.

My old supervisor, the one I'm always going on about how nice he was, he's moving on to greener pastures. His last day will be next week. I want to do something nice for him, to let him know in some way how much I appriciated him, but I don't know what to do. Prolly I'll just get him a card. Seems inadequate though.

I've been really bad about calling people back lately. I'm sorry. Email me if you want to get ahold of me, I'm still responding to them.

I think I'm discovering that I'm going through a weekly cycle of weirdness. Every Sunday I seem to begin to get incredibly tense, and by Monday night my back feels like one huge awful knot. It seems to get better by Tuesday, and clear up entirely by Thursday, only to come back again on Sunday. Also I've been having fairly constant headaches again. I think this may be somehow related, but I have yet to discover just how. At the moment Advil seems to be helping.

Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day

2005-04-03T23:39:00.000-07:00

I really had the loveliest day today. From start to finish, this day has just been marked with goodness. I didn't even get quite as much sleep as I wanted, and still, it was a marvelous day. I had a Mary Kay facial with Angi and Amber early this afternoon, which was actually really nice, and my skin feels oh-so-baby-soft. I'm having a hard time keeping my hands off of my face it feels so nice. Then we went out to lunch at this fabulous little Mexican restaurant I'd never been to before, where I got a ridiculous amount of sour cream to go on my yummy enchiladas.

Then Amber wanted to go be all responsible and stuff, so I dropped her off, and Angi and I ended up just driving around, and we eventually went on a little adventure, first going to the places she goes on a regular basis, for work, then driving out to where I grew up.

There's a gate, and a no trespassing sign on the oh-so-very-long driveway (gravel road) that leads to my childhood home, so I didn't get to actually take that trip all the way down memory lane, but just driving out there was good for my soul.

Also good for my soul was the moment when we looked out car window, over green fields and farmhouses to see not one, but two rainbows, one of which was so brilliant that it almost looked as though it had been superimposed over the landscape using animation. It was an amazing moment, and I'm so glad I was there to see it. Certainly the most beautiful view I've seen in some time, and I was so glad to have someone along to appreciate it, and marvel at it with me. Some more driving around followed, and much meaningful (and not) conversation. All and all a fabulously satisfying Sunday evening.

Anybody who would like to drive around with me, just for the sake of going someplace they don't go every day, and trying to really look at the world, and really notice all the beauty in it should let me know. Long drives in the country were such a part of my childhood, and I've noticed recently just how much I've missed them. But they're not something I want to do by myself, I need somebody else there to enjoy the magic and the mystery with me.

Then I went to my Mama's house for my step-dad's birthday dinner. It was fun. We laughed and joked, and it felt like home. I told my Mama I think I'm gonna move back there when Kalinda moves, and she was delighted. We discussed a couple of the details, and I was delighted. Apparently the toilet is still the composting variety, but according to Kalinda the newer model that is in there now doesn't have the same icky, yucky, no good, very bad problems that the old one had. I still made sure that using the one in the house wouldn't be an issue, but I might be willing to give this new one a shot. We'll see. Also we discussed rent, which, as it turns out, would actually end up being even less than I am paying now, instead of the few dollars a month more that I had been anticipating, with the loss of the monthly storage bill, I would find myself about $75 dollars a month richer. Not a bad deal at all.

Jane was quizzical, studied metaphysical science down the hall

2005-04-03T13:17:00.000-07:00

The last poll was a landslide victory for "you know why"

My Ballot Box

Why?

Total votes 26

Because. (1)

None of your business. (3)

12%

Huh? (0)

Is this a trick question? (1)

Can we talk about this some other time? (6)

23%

You know why. (15)

58%

Please vote in the new poll.

Now and then, there's a fool, such as I

2005-04-01T23:30:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine played a little prank on his blog today, and I fell for it, hook, line, and sinker. Funny thing is, there were some inconsistencies in his story that I noticed, and it even actually occurred to me that this could have been a joke, but I wanted to believe it was true so much I blinded myself.

I feel this may be symptomatic of an overall issue with myself that I should look at. I suspect I may have a tendency to do just this on a fairly regular basis. When I really want something to happen, I lay back, lounging in my (imaginary, of course) overstuffed chair, looking at the world through my oh-so-chic rose colored glasses, and simply ignore any evidence that might contradict my desires.

Probably this is not good. Probably I should not do this. Probably this is something so ingrained in me that even upon extensive examination, even after years of counseling, even if I really TRIED to cure myself, I'd still have to deal with. So I think I'll just ignore it, and hope it goes away. Yeah, that'll work.

Bits and pieces and, bits and pieces

2005-04-01T13:54:00.000-08:00

I had more hits to this site last month than ever before. Almost 1150. Thank YOU for your support (does anybody else remember those Bartles and James commercials?)

I went by the house last night, it looks to be in fairly good condition. The washer and dryer are gone, which I wasn't expecting. It confused me a bit. I'm going to need to do a little bit of painting, I think, not something I'm looking forward to. Also the fridge needs to be cleaned in a bad way. There isn't much of anything in it, just slimy badness. EWWWWWW. Meh, no biggie.

The realtors need information I don't have, and really need to get around to getting. I will not be a slacker about this, I can't afford to be.

Cleaning up the backyard is going to be evil. I'm not looking forward to it. Don't even know where to start. The front yard's gonna need some love and attention too. (Excuse me for a moment while I pull some hair out)

A friend of mine is on a business trip in New York right now. He called me last night and left me a message saying that he was having a great time and that I should be there. Made me smile.

I finally went to bed early last night, (a plan I've been entertaining all week) and got more than enough sleep, I'm very, very pleased about this.

Another chapter closes

2005-03-31T13:58:00.000-08:00

Last night was a good night.
There were a couple of not-so-great moments, but I think they were handled with relative grace, and my hand isn't too bruised from pounding on my steering wheel in frustration. This is good. A big ol' thanks goes out to Darius who was kind enough to accompany me to my old house to do the signing over of the title, and key exchange, when I decided at the last minute that I really didn't want to go over there alone at almost 10pm. It's a good feeling, knowing that there are people I can call (and who will actually answer their darned phones!) who will go out of their way to support me in being irrationally careful.
The exchange was mercifully brief, though there was one last little last minute inconvenience thrown at me, which I suppose I should have expected, but was wholly unprepared for, and so simply acquiesced, because I had no way in which I could reasonably say what I was thinking that would have come out of my mouth as anything even remotely calm, cool, and professional, which is the persona I have chosen to exclusively use in dealing with this separation, and I've done so well through all of it, it seemed like a damned shame to waste all that hard work over half an hour.
Anyway, I'm oh so very glad to have all that behind me. With any luck, it will be the last time I ever see Shane, which is a little bittersweet, but quite a relief. I will be putting my house on the market for sale as soon as possible, I still haven't been inside, which I plan to do tonight, I think, so I don't know what kind of condition it's in. I'm hoping that I will only have to take care of a few minor things to get it sale-ready, but I honestly haven't the foggiest idea, and I refuse not to prepare for the worst, so I've been doing so. Everybody cross your fingers, for me though.
It's going to be weird to go back in there. Just looking at the open garage last night was strange. It feels like home so much more than my little studio apartment does. Or perhaps it was just the open hostility making me homesick, I don't get too much of that lately.

If you could read my mind dear, what a tale my thoughts would tell

2005-03-31T09:44:00.000-08:00

Actual excerpt from a conversation last night:

Me: "Thank you for not hitting him"

Someone else: "Oh right, I forgot you could read my mind"

I don't need you to worry for me, 'cause I'm alright

2005-03-30T11:59:00.000-08:00

I've had a few people recently tell me that they know, suspect or worry that the "everything's alright" attitude I generally try to portray is less than purely genuine. One asked me if I was really ok, or just pretending to be ok. To this I responded "who can tell?" "I certainly can't" he replied, "but I'd hope you can." On the particular night in question, I was actually feeling quite happy, and continue to feel that way, but this isn't always the case.
In another of these conversations, my friend supposed that I wasn't always as happy as I liked to have others think. To this I replied: "sure." Isn't this the way people work? Doesn't everybody pretend they're ok, when really they're bothered by something on a fairly regular basis? I mean I have a blog, so I have a forum on which I can express any emotion I may have, at any given moment, so if I really feel the need to do so, I do. But sometimes I don't wanna. Sometimes I wanna recognize that whatever is going on in my little brain will pass momentarily, and paste a smile on my face in the interim.
Last night a friend told me that usually when she talks to me she feels like she has to spend the first half hour working up to"real" topics. She compared me to a skittish animal in the wild, who has to be approached slowly. We'll talk about the weather for a little while, talk about our jobs, and slowly, carefully progress to deeper topics, "it's okay, I won't hurt you." This amused me greatly.
But seriously. Things are good. Of course I'm not happy all the time, of course I have problems, and issues, and all that jazz, but rest assured, when I do find myself less than okay, I do talk about it, write about it, or at least think about it, and I always snap out of it.

Wouldn't it be loverly?

2005-03-28T20:13:00.000-08:00

So I bought some new lipstick recently, which I only just now got around to unpacking and putting away. As I set it in my bathroom, I glanced down at it, and realized that it's calling itself "anti-chap" lipcolor. This led my mind on a little romp I'd like to share with you, dear readers:

(this is, of course, only internal dialogue, nothing was actually said aloud)

"Anti-chap, huh?"
"Isn't the point of wearing lipstick because you're pro-chap, and want them to be pro-you?"
"Now that's no way to think, you wear makeup because YOU like the way it makes you look"
"And besides, what about all the 'lipstick' lesbians?"
"Yeah, but still, 'anti-chap' just seems a little wrong to me"
"What the bloody 'ell? You're not even English."
"Right-o"

Incidentally, the "right-o" part, I'm pretty sure I only thought because the "bloody 'ell" part made me giggle, and realize that I wanted to write the whole "conversation" down right away.

Girls become lovers, and turn into mothers, so mothers be good to your daughters too

2005-03-28T00:21:00.000-08:00

Seems like lately I have all these great plans to write these deep introspective essays on humanity. I have all these ideas floating around in my head about interpersonal relationships, about desire and fear, about love and friendship. About myself, about people I know, and about people in general. I want to explore aspects of myself that I see in other people, and that I see in the media, and I want to do it all in my own slightly sarcastic, hopefully amusing little style.

But I'm not doing it, and it's bugging me. Anytime I find myself avoiding writing about a topic, or series of topics, I have to stop and ask myself why. I can't help but wonder what I'm hiding from, what connections I'm afraid my little brain will make. Writing is cathartic for me. It's a way of working through all the crap that happens in my head, and hopefully making a little bit of sense out of it. There are things I don't write about because I don't want to publicize the details of the lives of others, which is simply a matter of respect, but the topics I find myself shying away from for no particular reason at all are the ones that trouble me.

And now, to change the subject, oh so smoothly, before I actually come to any conclusions, or (God forbid) actually start talking about these things, I have some news:

My Mama has invited me to come back to live in the little garage-conversion house in her backyard after my little sister moves out in July. It would cost me about the same amount as I'm paying to live in my little studio apartment right now, and would provide my with a hell of a lot more square footage. I'm considering it, but am feeling quite torn on the issue.

I really loved living there in the past, it was nice to have my family so close, to have an ever-present sense of community. And on those nights when I was oh-so-very lonely, it was nice to know that someone who would hold me, and caress my hair, and tell me that they loved me, and mean it, was only a stone garden path away. It was also nice to have my "boy" there in bed with me every night. Curled up, and softly snoring on my chest, as I did, or didn't sleep. I've really been missing having a cat in my life. I can't explain why it's so important to me, but it is.

I'd be able to have people over, to cook spaghetti dinners, if I was so inclined, or just to throw little "parties" when the mood struck me. I'd be in my "baby" sister's life more, which is something that I really want to do, she's an amazing person, and I hate that I'm not there for her like I should be. I'd have my pseudo-step-dad there to talk about old musicals with, and to help me change the lightbulbs, put air in my tires, and all that "dadish" stuff.

There's bad news too though, there always is. Not a lot, but enough that I'm thinking twice. Firstly there's the whole composting toilet issue. I don't know if ya'll have ever dealt with one of these, and I'm sure some of you haven't even heard of them, so I'll fill you in on a few of the "finer" details here: Basically this is a giant rubbermaidesque contraption that you are supposed to "do your business" in, and then cover said "business" up with peat moss, so that it will decompose, and hopefully not stink. The not stinking part only sometimes works, and while I do think it's a noble idea, in theory, to make lovely fertilizer out of your own waste, in practice, I'm not so fond of it. To help balance this problem out, I am welcome (as are any guests I may have) to use the bathroom in the "main" house. This means traveling across a lovely little stone path, into hippie land, but the toilet flushes, and that's a satisfying sound, when it's one you've been missing. The other down side is the location. I'm currently located less than a mile from "downtown" (thing'll be great when you're downtown, everything's waiting for you-oo) I like being so close to everything. I like being within walking distance of places I want to go, and people I want to hang out with. My Mama's house is about 4 miles away from where I currently live. It's not a long way, but it will mean more time, and more gas, to get from where I am to where I'm going, on a fairly regular basis.

Do the good points outweigh the bad? I think so. I think this is something I'm going to do. But I'm not sure yet, (and I'm also not sure how much aid I'm going to be able to enlist to help me move my heavy-ass furniture, less than a year after the last time) Part of me feels as though this would be taking a step backwards in my life. Part of me is worried about what taking that step "back" might mean for my life. Part of me is giddy and excited at the prospect of having that kind of security again. Part of me is factoring things into the equation that shouldn't, rightly, be there.

Anybody have any opinions? From what I've written, and what you know, what do you think? Would this be a step up, a step down, or a lateral move?

(Oh yeah, a couple more things, for your knowing-too-damned-much-about-the-inner-workings-of-That-Girl's-life-pleasure. I still haven't talked to my Mama about the whole not-standing-up-for-the-National-anthem-at-CSz-thing, which is not good. It's like a big ol' elephant in the room when we talk, and I still have too many feelings about it too be able to rationally express them to her, also there's a washer and dryer there, which means no more not-so-meaningful laundromat posts, and I'd be able to get all my crap out of storage, which would please me greatly)

Summer breeze, makes me feel fine

2005-03-27T09:47:00.000-08:00

After a lovely evening spent hanging out with lovely people, I feel much better. There was a moment last night when I had nearly decided to just go home after I was done at CSz, but I changed my mind, and I'm glad.

Drinking, smoking, eating junk food, watching TV, playing "Sweet Valley High" talking and laughing with 3 of my favorite people was just what the proverbial doctor ordered.

For the record: "Sweet Valley High" is not the sort of game you use any real sort of strategy with, but doing so, and watching others do so, (not seriously, mind you, you just can't take SVH seriously) is very, very, amusing.
Also, having a heterosexual male "girlfriend" rocks.

Sunday, bloody Sunday

2005-03-27T09:14:00.000-08:00

I wrote a poem on Easter Sunday 6 years ago. I'm sure I have it sitting around somewhere, but I know not where at this point. This is the part I remember, though the "I gently whisper wake up dear" part wasn't originally in it (I can't remember the actual line) honestly I'm kinda impressed that I remember as much of it as I do.

Easter Sunday
Storm Descending
Restlessness is
Neverending
I'm awake
But Mae is snoring
When did my life get so boring?
Easter Sunday
Storm is here
I gently whisper
"wake up dear"
My room is clean
My thoughts are dirty
Coffee's ready
It's twelve thirty

I'm no angel, but please don't think that I can't cry

2005-03-26T00:42:00.000-08:00

It would seem that I'm going to follow last night's pseudo-self-righteous post with one that covers the opposite end of the spectrum. I'm going to do that talking about things that I'm not really talking about thing that I'm so fond of (or is it not really talking about things that I'm talking about? Who knows?) and the thing that I'm (not) talking about here is something that I haven't really been able to quite wrap my brain all the way around, so it may be a boring (or interesting, depending on your perspective, I suppose) read, at the very least (most?) expect it to be disjointed, because I have a lot of feelings and thoughts on the subject that I'm trying to come to terms with, and I doubt I'll re-read and edit this before posting.

First off, I just wanna say this:
I make mistakes. I do stupid things, for stupid reasons, or for no reason at all. My life is full of things I've done wrong, things I'm doing wrong, things I will continue to do wrong, and things I'm going to do wrong. From failing to wash my face at night, to smoking, to forgetting to pay the phone bill, to all the things that really matter, I screw up. On a fairly regular basis.

I try, oh how I try, to be perfect. To do every little thing right. I really do.

But then there are those days, those days when I just know that I'm gonna fuck up, and so I try to plan for it. These are the nights when I walk to the bar, knowing I'll be drinking more than I ought to, but also knowing that if I walk, I'm not gonna be putting myself, or anybody else in too much jeopardy. These are also the nights when I sometimes stay home, because I'm afraid that if I were to interact with people I would end up saying something that might hurt someone. And this is the reason that I'm so much better at expressing my emotions via blogger, or email, than I am in person. Because I know that I can save, re-read, and edit what I've written in the morning, when I'm not so self-destructive. I try to plan for my screw ups, to be self-aware enough not to put myself in situations where my not-so-perfect side gets the chance to "shine."

But sometimes I fail. Usually the only person I end up hurting in these instances is myself. And I'm okay with that. If I get hurt I know I will heal, and I know I will be able to forgive myself. But sometimes, despite by best intentions, I end up hurting other people. That's not so easy. When the actions I take end up causing someone else pain, it truly hurts me. Far more than anything else I deal with in my life. Toy with my emotions, break my heart, hit me. These things I can deal with, but don't you get hurt. Please, oh God, please, don't let the stupid shit that I do effect anybody but me.

Every action has a reaction though. Every single solitary one. And no matter how many days out of the year I reach my goal of giving more than I get, of helping more than I hurt, of being the best possible human being I can be, those days when I don't haunt me. And I don't know how to make up for it. I don't know how to "fix" it, and I don't know how to prevent it from happening again, and again.

And so tonight I cry. Tonight I cry for every person I've ever hurt, every mistake I've ever made. Tonight I cry for the knowing, and the not knowing, the carelessness and the best laid plans gone awry. I cry for my Daddy, my Mama, my Grandma, my sisters, my friends, my ex-boyfriends, and the strangers I may have effected. I cry for not calling, for not being there, for sharing my feelings, and for keeping them to myself. I cry for every slight, real or imagined, every worry, every betrayal, and for every secret I've ever kept. I cry for lying, and for telling the truth. I cry for smiling through my tears, and for smiling through yours, for every joke I've told, and every one I haven't. I cry for forgiveness. I cry for forgiving myself, and not being able to forgive myself. I cry, because no matter how hard I try, I will never be perfect, and I cry because I will never be able to stop myself from trying anyway.

The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls.

2005-03-25T15:04:00.000-08:00

Taken from my work's newsletter:

* Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.

* Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, or else you won't have a leg to stand on.

* If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.

* Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of it.

* Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.

* Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

* When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane!

* A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.

* You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to one person.

I don't wanna grow up

2005-03-25T01:30:00.000-08:00

You ever have an interaction with someone, where the whole time you find yourself thinking "be mature, please be mature, I know you CAN be mature, come on....Please??" And then, as if they could read your mind, you find that they are actually being fairly mature? And then they say/do something that you were really hoping to avoid, and then you find yourself repeating that same old little mantra, except this time to yourself?

My Daddy always used to tell me not to "sink to their level" when I was dealing with problems with people who were obviously not looking at life through logical specs, and I do my best to follow that sage advice. But sometimes it's hard. Sometimes I wanna throw up my arms, stomp my feet, and throw myself a little tantrum. Sometimes I wanna be vile, evil, and manipulative. Sometimes I just wanna get my way, what's good, right, and (oh yes, this is always a consideration) mature, be damned.

I don't. I don't because I was taught better, because I KNOW better.

This applies on a much smaller level in my interactions with people as well. I'm very familiar with guilt and the ways it can be manipulated for one to achieve one's goals, but I choose not to go there. For a number of reasons, not the least of which are purely selfish. Of course I choose not to play the guilt card because I know it wouldn't be "right" but I often wonder if I was certain of the outcome, certain that my motivations would never be revealed, certain of, well, "stuff" if I wouldn't be a little less moral about things, the answer? I don't know.
What I do know, however, is that anything you get in this world because you pressured someone into it, any argument you win, goal you accomplish, or selfish desire you fulfill, by manipulation, will never work out the way you wanted it to. I've seen it happen too many times, I've seen it work, and seen it backfire, and I can't help but imagine that this is fate lending a hand. And so, no matter how many times I may wish I was able to let myself go "there" I will not. I will continue to take the proverbial "high road" continue to do what I know to be right, in hopes that this way will work better.

And if I throw up my hands, and stomp my feet, and throw a bit of a tantrum, in the privacy of my own home, with nobody around to see it, at the general unfairness of life, because this doesn't seem to be working any better for me than manipulation works for others, well, at least nobody else is getting hurt in the process.

All I have to do is dream

2005-03-23T13:53:00.000-08:00

Had the strangest dream(s) last night. In regular dream fashion, it all started slipping away from me the moment I woke up, but here's what I do remember:

There was some sort of conflict going on between my Daddy, and the father of another girl, who I was. The other girl was black, and we (I?) were (was?) certain that the crux of the matter between our (my) fathers was a race issue, though no one was speaking of it in those terms. At one point I was speaking to other dad, and trying to convince him that he was being stubborn, and trying to come up with a way of phrasing my argument that wouldn't be calling him racist. I eventually just told him that there wasn't anything he could do to stop me from dating a white boy, if that's what I decided I wanted to do. This made him very angry, and he started flying the plane erratically.

Meanwhile, other me was discussing this split personality, at a book/video store, sitting on a comfy couch with a bunch of my real life friends. I was stressed out about the combination of being two people, and all of the responsibilities I had in just my life, and Tim kept asking me "what about school? Shouldn't you be in school?"

What does it all mean?????

People are strange

2005-03-22T13:59:00.000-08:00

Quick! Say something brilliant, in less than one minute!

I had planned to post on a number of different topics last night, but was distracted with the increasingly addictive tetris, and then, in the midst of my tetris playing, that stupid poem type thing started composing itself in my brain. Some days it's decidedly strange being me.

The lovers, the dreamers and me.

2005-03-21T22:25:00.000-08:00

I think the girl who works at the little market that's a stone's throw away from my apartment was coming on to me tonight. I can't be certain, of course, but it's seemed like she was a little extra "friendly" the last few times I've been in there, and it was more pronounced this evening. I'm flattered, really I am. But still. Not really my bag, you know?

Now the boy who works there.....(I've been going in much more regularly than I used to, because, well, he's CUTE!!!!) well, anyway, anybody know of a polite way of making some sort of interest known to someone who works at your corner store?

I'm so lonely I don't even wanna be with myself anymore

2005-03-21T22:18:00.000-08:00

Check it out! I brutally massacred a poem and a number of songs, all in one fell swoop! You've gotta love it (or hate it, I guess, but no indifference, my tender ego can't take indifference)

I wander lonely as a cloud
So lonely I don't even wanna be with myself anymore
When all at once I see a crowd
And I head quickly for the door

I pour another glass of wine
I float on high o'er veils and hills
Send me an angel, send me a sign
I'm not that fond of daffodils

Waiting for my prince to come
Beside the lake beneath the trees
Girls can really be so dumb
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze

Continuous as the stars that shine
All that shimmers is(n't) gold
My dreams in never ending line
I'm too damned young to feel this old

I guess I'll skip a couple verses
I'm proud, and I can be a jerk
But they don't seem to suit my purpose
Plus it seems like too much work

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant, or in pensive mood
Life flashing right before my eyes
Missing the bliss of solitude

I think of all the love I've had
And then my heart with pleasure fills
There's more I know, I shant be sad
(Still not a fan of daffodils)

And if you don't know me by now
I can say with utter certainty
You will never, never, never know how
If you don't get this than you don't know me

Let me tell you a story

2005-03-19T13:21:00.000-08:00

(There's stuff in here that reletives may not want to know, I'm just saying.....)

I got in touch with an old friend recently, a girl I hadn't seen in about 5 or 6 years, but who still managed to send me Christmas cards every year. She and I were quite close when I was 15 and 16, and then life happened, and we just sort of drifted apart. There were a number of different factors causing this, not the least of which being her move to Portland, and my lack of transportation. But we were also just going different places in our lives, and while I feel confident that she and I both have always felt a special kinship, and have always been there in each other's hearts, our lives just became too different for a time there.

They still are different, quite different in fact. The thing is, Kat's life hasn't really changed that much, as far as I can see. But mine has. Oh, how mine has. Hanging out with her reminded me of a girl I used to be, a girl who hasn't been sending me Christmas cards to remind me that she existed. I think I'm more like I was back then now than I have been for the last few years, but I'm still a much different person, and I realized last night, as I was going on and on, and on to a couple of friends about the life I once led, and how Kat reminded me of that, that this particular period of my life is one that has never blessed the pages of my blog, which led me to ask myself why?

The closest thing I can come up with is that I'm a little ashamed of the person I once was, I'm mostly just ashamed that I was once a person who tried so very hard to be "cool," doing and saying the things I thought I should in a desperate attempt to be liked by those around me. Now the funny thing here, is that I suspect I haven't really covered that period in my life for the very same reason. I suspect that my internal battle with the "cool" demons has come full circle, and now I find the very fact that I once tried so hard to be "cool" decidedly "uncool." And so I don't talk about it. I'm a strange, strange girl.

Back during this period of my life I wild and crazy, and so much more innocent than I thought I was. This was before I'd ever had my heart broken, before I'd ever had a real job, before I really knew what betrayal could be like. I was beautiful, and some days I was even aware of it. I had what probably doesn't quite qualify as an eating disorder, but I would periodically stop eating for a week or two, and I'd lie about it. Technically I lived with my Mama during most of this time, but I had a bad habit of "forgetting" to call when I wasn't going to be home, and then feeling bad about it, and being afriad I'd get in "trouble" and so simply failing to go home for a week or 3, by which time the worry would have outweighed the anger, we'd have a deep heart-to-heart talk and "process" our feelings on a wide range of topics, and things'd go back to normal for a few weeks, until I did it again.

I was desperate for approval back then, desperate for whatever kind of love I could find. It's funny, because I look back at that period in my life, and I think that it was riddled with drugs and sex, but then I look a little closer, and I realize that the drugs were mostly caffeine, nicotine, a little bit of alchol, and very little pot, and the sex was mostly just making out. But there was certainly a lot of that. I didn't think twice about kissing random boys (or girls, for that matter) at parties, or even at IHOP. Kat brought down some pictures of parties that she's thrown recently, and also showed me a website where she has some pictures of past and current friends, and as I looked through them, I realized that of the 15-20 people I recognized, there was a story I had all but forgotten about all of them, and most of them were at least mildly sexual. Heck, I even dated her husband for awhile (this was before they were together, of course)

I guess it's just weird to see how much things change, and how much they stay the same, and all that jazz. I'll likely be telling some stories you may not believe at some point regarding this period in my life. In the meantime, I'm gonna try to post a picture of me at 15 or 16, not really sure. They guy sitting next to me was my first boyfriend who I put up with for longer than a week. But we'd broken up quite some time before this picture was taken.

Little miss apprehensive

2005-03-17T00:06:00.000-08:00

It would seem that I'm feeling more than a little self absorbed right now. I like to think that this isn't a default state for me normally, and even more than that I'd like to be able to say that's it's not a place I ever really land in, but here I am, and it's undeniable. I could go on about the reasons I have a right to feel this way at the moment, but I won't. They may qualify as reasons in my own mind, but really they're mere excuses, so that I may continue to be able to admire myself in the mirror. The low-down-dirty truth of the matter is that I simply seem to have found myself in a rare I-am-(or at the very least, should be) the center-of-the-universe frame of mind.
I am having emotional reactions to things I have no business worrying myself about. As well as emotional reactions to things I have every business worrying about. Have I mentioned lately how much I despise my emotions? No? Well I do. I'm sure it's not healthy to aspire to be relatively unaffected by emotion, so I won't claim it's an aspiration of mine. Sadly, the failure to claim such leaves me with little else to say at this juncture. So I shall attempt sleep, wish me luck.

You might think I'm crazy

2005-03-16T01:37:00.000-08:00

But:

Any day in which I get mistaken for a model is a good day.

Last night was Jesse's final night in town, he's moving to West Virginia to be with his love, and I commend him for his faith, perserverence, and bravery. I myself find even telling someone that I care for them to be a monumental achievement, I can't imagine having enough faith in my emotions to carry me anywhere near as far as he is going. I wish him all the best.

Some friends of his that I hadn't previously gotten a chance to talk to were there for his last night in town, one in particular made quite the impression on me.

Almost as soon as I walked in the door, she identified me as "That girl" and asked if she could speak to me privately for a moment. Naturally, I agreed, and I soon found myself out front, listening to her try to dig herself out of a hole she wasn't in. It would seem that she works for a website that includes "adult" content, and she was quite certain that I was one of their models. Without giving me a chance to refute this claim, she went on to tell me that she is quite discreet, and that I could trust her not to "tattle" on me. I was eventually able to inform her that this was a case of mistaken identity, but I had to add that if I were in a position in my life where I was modeling, in whatever form that might take, it would certainly not be something I was ashamed of. Quite the contrary, in fact. While I can't see myself ever participating in any pornographic endeavors, in the event that I had, I would certainly make the fact known to all who would listen. I am not nearly so secure in my beauty that I wouldn't want the world to know that someone had actually seen fit to PAY me, merely for the privilege of taking my photograph.

I just called, to say, I love you

2005-03-15T13:11:00.000-08:00

There's a story my sister's sometimes tell regarding the song referred to in the title of this post. I'm a little fuzzy on the actual people involved, but apparently one of them (Lisa, I think, if any of ya'll are reading this leave a comment, or send me an email to let me know if I have this right) got a middle of the night call from another of them (I want to say Deborah here, but again with the fuzziness) who was singing this song in her sleep.

I shared this little anecdote here, because it really illustrates for me the way this portion of my family interacts. There is just so much love in the room when you get the 5 sisters together, and for the longest time I had some sense of it being exclusionary, not on a one on one level, and I certainly never took it too personally, but I always had this sense of being an outsider looking in on them, and I've always been a little jealous of the relationship they have with each other. I didn't feel this on Sunday. Perhaps it helped that my long lost brother Robert and his wife Vivian were there, and I was able to clearly see the openness and love they were treated with, perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I've actually made a bit of an effort recently to connect with my sisters, or perhaps it's just a symptom of my growing up and being able to interact with them on more of an adult level, but whatever it was, it was really, really nice.

I felt included, and loved, and cared about. I felt like they were interested in my life, and I felt comfortable enough to share it with them. I think I'm still a bit of a different person around them, but I don't see it as a bad thing. It's not me hiding who I am, it's me being influenced by the wonderful people they are, and being inspired to try to be a little better because of that. And isn't that really what family should be about?

I always want to feel like part of this was mine

2005-03-13T23:59:00.000-08:00

Today was my eldest sister's 50th Birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAWN!!!!!!

I went up to Portland today to celebrate at my sister Ami's house. In attendance were Dawn (naturally) Caron, Lisa, Deborah, Robert, Vivian, Ami and Emma (Ami and Emma live there, so that wasn't a huge surprise, but the rest of us had to do some traveling [I got off easy] to get there) It was the first time I had been in the same room with all of the sisters since our Daddy died, and the very first time I'd met my brother Robert, and his wife Vivian. I don't think I really expressed it to them, but it was a rather emotional experience for me.

I'm tired, and emotionally drained right now, so I won't even try to do it justice at the moment. Hopefully I'll write about it all soon.

It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes

2005-03-11T13:52:00.000-08:00

Went out to the usual place with a couple of friends after workshop Wednesday night, it being "dead" week and all, the place was less crowded than normal, but still managed to be more crowded than I would have preferred, due to an unfortunate group of people who were sitting at the large table in the back. Usually I like to get to know people a little bit before I make judgments on them, but I hate these people. A lot. They were loud and obnoxious, for awhile they were throwing a stuffed doll at other patrons (there was a fraction of a moment when I was REALLY hoping they'd have the misjudgment to throw it our direction, I was feeling more than a little bitchy, and would have loved to have been given an excuse to express it) and at one point, right before we left (no coincidence there) one of the guys and one of the girls decided that it would be a fun and amusing idea to take their clothes off. I was fortunate enough to be sitting facing away from them, so I missed the bulk of the hilarity, the hooting and hollering was annoying me, but it had been for some time, by the time I found it necessary to crane my neck long enough to see exactly what was going on both parties were zipping up their pants. They were still topless though.

Now I have nothing against nudity, per se, but I do believe that there is a time and a place for it. This was neither. Call me old fashioned, but I have never in my life felt an overriding desire to remove all of my clothing at a bar. Never has it seemed like a really good idea to expose my entire body while a bunch of drunk friends and stranger egged me on. It just strikes me as a bad idea.

I had more to say on the subject but it escapes me now.

Foolish Games

2005-03-11T02:39:00.000-08:00

**Editor's note: It's quite late, and I'm too lazy to re-read this in order to figure out whether it made any sense at all, or even if I managed to tie the paragraphs together in any way. Please feel free to disregard any or all of this should it make no sense whatsoever.**

So I've been sitting here playing Tetris since I last posted, and I got to thinking about how much I really love Tetris, which let to me contemplate just what it is about the game that I love so very much? When I step away from myself for a second it's easy to see that it's really no better than a million other games out there, so what exactly about this one appeals to me so much?

The answer was obvious when it came to me, and I'm sure a few of you have already correctly guessed it: I love it so much because I'm incrediblely good at it.

I'm not bragging here (actually, I think that may be exactly what I'm doing, but with right, darnit!) but it truly boggles my mind how good I can be at this game. But why do I care? It's just a trick of hand-eye co-oridination combined with fast and logical thinking, I mean we're talking Tetris here, not Russian rocket science, why do I hold so much love for the game in my heart?

I'll tell ya why: I have had numerous friends over the years who would sit and just watch me play for hours on end, staying constantly amazed at my how quickly I was able to move little blocks around on a computer screen. I have had dozens of people tell me that they can't even think as quickly as I'm able to manuever these stupid little blocks, I have had more positive reinforcement regarding my prowess at this game than I've had regarding an other area in my life. (With the possible exception of my writing, but I still manage to be insecure about that on a fairly regualar basis anyway)

I want to be great. I really do. I don't know how, when, where, or what, but I want to be great. Probably it won't happen, and it's something I don't like to think about much, because I don't want to set myself up for dissapointment and failure when I'm really quite comfortable being the not-so-great girl that I am. But it's there, that desire, and sometimes, in the middle of the night it scares and delights me that I have it in me to even dream of greatness.

There are areas of my life that I'm finding a little frustrating right now, mostly due to that hope that sometimes lingers just beneath the surface of my consciousness. I'm probably to young to already be telling myself that I'm not getting any younger, but there it is, and regardless of your age, it's the truth of the matter. And that sometimes leaves me wondering why I even bother doing some of the things I do when I know I'll never be great at them. If I already know I'm never gonna find that dare-to-be-great moment doing it, why am doing it? Shouldn't I be spending my time focusing on those things that might push me in the right direction, that might aid me in my quest (roll 1 D6) for greatness?

Well, greatness will never come if I lose my job and consequently my aparment because I stayed up all night writing, now will it? Maybe I'll luck out and have a dream telling my exactly what I need to do, where I need to go, and who I need to suck up to, in order to reach my mighty goal. More likely I'll dream of sex or potato chips, but that'd be good too.

I just stopped in to see what condition my condition was in

2005-03-11T00:48:00.000-08:00

Just about the time I think I may have exhausted my supply of amusing song lyrics to use as post titles somebody gives me music to listen to. I'm too lazy to use the html stuff at the moment, but a big ol' round of thanks goes out to Durden, Glitch, and my co-worker Zach, (who doesn't have a catchy little alias for me to post here, but has exposed me to more new music in the last month than my little brain can process) Thanks guys! You rock! To all of you who aren't on the list who would like to be, l will happily give you a blank CD, or arrange some other sort of trade, (get your minds out of the gutter boys, that's not even what I'm talking about) as well as my undying love and devotion, for new music.

I actually started a post earlier today, which I have saved, and will finish and post (hopefully) sometime tomorrow, regarding my experience at the bar last night, but I'm not in the proper frame of mind at the moment to try to write something funny, which is the chord I'm attempting to play off key with that one, so keep your eyes peeled (gross!) but since my readership has increased substantially in the last month and a half or so, I feel like I owe ya'll something for checking in so often, even it is something lame like this that ya'll prolly feel cheated for having spent the last 37 seconds of your life reading.

The last one was amusing enough to carry me for a few days though right? Right?

Things I may talk about soonish:

~Grocery shopping with a stranger

~Watching "Adult Swim" in a bachelor pad with 3 guys

~Movies with sex in them vs. Movies with nothing but sex in them

~I really, really, really, really, really wanna go to the beach, preferably in the middle of the night.

~10, 15, 20, 25, or 30 things you shouldn't say on a first date (depending on how creative I feel at that moment, this would be one of those "girl trying to be funny" posts, more than a "girl trying to make jokes about the things she's experienced that she would rather laugh at than think about" posts.

~101 reasons I'm single (again with the numbering, I doubt I could come up with 101 actual reasons, that would be sustainably amusing enough for ya'll to bother making it all the way through the list)

~I have a realtor (everybody say "yay")

~Internet chatting

~The universe and it's relation to my navel. (I said "may" not will, alright, it could happen)

More money than brains

2005-03-08T21:17:00.000-08:00

So today was bill paying day, and I decided that instead of risking a paper-cut on my tongue, I would actually use my computer for something useful for a change, and pay what bills I can on-line. (most of them, thank heaven for the internet) This was the first time I've attempted this particular medium of bill pay in quite some time, and in the case of my credit cards I had been in the habit of paying them in this manner once upon a time, but that was a different millennium. Naturally I'd forgotten all of my usernames and passwords, but in most cases this wasn't an issue because I know all of the pertinent information, and was able to simply plug it in and replace the old with new, better passwords. (and by better, I of course mean the same damned passwords I use for everything)

Sadly, one credit card company seems to have my date of birth wrong in their system (strangely enough [or perhaps not so strangely, now that I think about it] this was also my very first credit card, and it was issued to me just before my 18th birthday, I suppose they must have had me down as being slightly older than I actually am [and just because I'm sure there's somebody out there who knows these things, I am aware that some credit card companies do issue cards to folks who have managed to reach the ripe old age of 17, but I also know that those are "special" offers, special meaning, of course that the interest rate is so astrinomically high that only those with delusions of invincibility would even consider applying, I assure you this was not one of those]) so I was unable to just start from scratch and reset everything. I figured it'd be worth a shot to see I could recall what my password had once been, I still recall the word/number combinations I was fond of at the time, and really, what's the worst that could happen? So, to no avail, I took my 3 guesses before the system locked me out, and displayed this, oh so brilliantly written message:

"You Have Exceeded the Maximum Number of Unsuccessful Attempts"

At first glance it looks perfectly reasonable, just your standard "you're an idiot who has forgotten your password" message (not that I get these all the time, no, of course not, I'm smart and stuff) but upon closer inspection you notice that it tells you that you (or rather, I, in this case, but it could have been you) have Exceeded the Maximum number of Unsuccessful Attempts. Uhm....I don't mean to be a stickler for details here, (who am I trying to kid anyway, of course I'm meaning to be a stickler for details here) but no, no I haven't. I didn't exceed, I hit the nail squarely on the head. Now had I gone on to try another password or thirty I would indeed have done what they're stating I did, but I assure you I did not. I stopped right at the maximum number of unsuccessful attempts, thank you very much. Why on earth would I choose to keep going once that lofty goal had already been met?

So yeah, they're dumb, and I'm dumber, not only for my inability to remember passwords past, but also for giving them my hard earned (ha!) money for all these years. Once I get brave enough to risk that paper cut on my tongue I'll be paying them off, and I've decided never to use that card again.

You know, they paid someone to write that. And it went through some sort of approval process, in fact, I'm sure it wasn't the first warning submitted, but it's the one they stuck with, the one that they chose to represent themselves to the entire password-forgetting community with (when you look at it that way, I suppose it's a little more forgivable, but still) kinda makes you (and by you I mean me) wonder, what lovely little gems did they rule out before settling on this one? Did they decide "Neener, neener, neener, you don't even remember where you left your keys do ya? Do ya?" was a little too childish? "While we respect you as a person, and realize that we all can sometimes be forgetful, we regret to inform you that you seem to have temporarily misplaced the appropriate password for this account, we're sure you'll find it soon, but sadly, you won't be able to use it, because of the unusually high number of failed attempts on this account could pose as a security threat to you, and your loved one's" was too long-winded? "This message will self destruct in 5.....4.....3.....2.....1" too over-done? "It takes a special kind of moron to be this incompetent, may we offer you a higher credit limit?" too greedy?

Well, I had anticipated this being a relatively short post, too late for that I guess.

Any given Sunday

2005-03-07T09:28:00.000-08:00

The Laundromat is an interesting crossection of Americana. In one glass-enclosed building you get folks from all impoverished walks of life, stuck there for an hour or two, often with nothing to contemplate except for their wardrobe. Well, their wardrobe, and my underwear. I assume that I am just one of the inevitable categories of people who shows up, though I never see anyone else who has quite the same routine that I do, but I sometimes like to suppose that that is because I am filling that role, so no one else needs apply.
In my Laundromat experiences I've noticed that it would seem that there are a number of types of folks who are there on any given Sunday (the day I normally do laundry) regardless of what Laundromat I choose to go to.
First you have your middle-aged woman with 3 kids wearing ill-fitting clothes (it is laundry day, after all) running around and making lots of noise, for which their mother yells at them frequently. She pulls the laundry straight from the dryer into her laundry basket and gets the hell out of there, for which the rest of us are eternally thankful.
Next is your elderly homeless-looking man, who doesn't seem to actually be doing any laundry, he's always sitting in the closest thing he can find to a corner, quietly watching the goings on. I sometimes imagine that men such as this spend entire days just watching people, dressed in their worst, go about their business. Sometimes he'll have a newspaper he's only pretending to read, other times he'll have a cup of coffee he doesn't seem to be drinking. You have no way of knowing if he's actually homeless, or just looks that way, if he's actually doing laundry and you just aren't paying attention when it happens, if he's sane or crazy, because he never says a word to anyone, and barely moves from his staked out little corner.
Then you have your Mexican family. Mom, Dad, and the little banditos, I'm not sure what it is, but these children are always frighteningly well behaved. If they step in front of you they say excuse me, they don't yell, they don't run, they say please and thank you to their parents. Stepford children I tell ya, but I like 'em. As the clothes come out of the dryer, everybody pitches in to get them folded, sorted, and stacked neatly in their laundry baskets.
Then you've got your youngish guy, whose clothes have been worn 20 too many times since the last time he visited, the stench of which bowls you over as he loads his washer. He seems to see the Laundromat as yet another place to get rejected by women, and will inevitably comment just barely audibly on the selection of items that come out of my "delicates" load, which I will pretend I didn't hear. He does not fold his laundry.
And of course no Laundromat visit is complete without your bickering couple, who are likely on some sort of illegal substance, and spend the entirety of their visit stage whispering unkind things to each other. Often the girl will fold about half of the clothes while they take a short reprieve from their arguing long enough for the guy to get immersed with whatever is on TV, only to be yelled at for his failure to contribute to the folding process, at which point he will unceremoniously grab the clothes left on the folding counter, shove them into the laundry basket, and walk out, leaving the woman standing there fuming, until she realizes that he's here ride, and has all of her clothes, at which point she runs after him, yelling startlingly colorful obscenities that she's no longer trying to keep quiet.

This one's for the girls who have ever had a broken heart, who have wished upon a shooting star

2005-03-06T15:00:00.000-08:00

A friend of mine posted this on her blog, and I liked it so much I'm stealing it.

Find a guy who calls you beautiful instead of hot, who calls you back when you hang up on him, who will stay awake just to watch you sleep. Wait for the boy who kisses your forehead, who wants to show you off to the world when you are in your sweats, who holds your hand in front of his friends, who thinks you're just as pretty without makeup on. Wait for the one who is constantly reminding you of how much he cares about you and how lucky he is to have you. Wait for the one who turns to his friends and says, "...that's her."

It goes on to say that if you're looking for a guy like this you should post this on your own site, which you are of course, welcome to do if you wish, and then to say that in doing so it will make all the men realize what women are looking for. I have a bit of an issue with that, though perhaps I'm just WAY too picky. I want a guy who will do, say, think all of those things, without being told that that's what I want. If he has to be told to think I'm as pretty without makeup on, or to remind me that he cares about me it doesn't seem like it should count. He either feels that way or he doesn't.

I'm going home on my own

2005-03-06T03:17:00.000-08:00

Wow, I can hardly believe how little I've been posting as of late. I'd like to say that it's because I've been terribly busy, or that I've been doing a lot of introspective soul searching, or even that I just haven't had anything to say, but none of those is entirely true. I have been a little busy, doing the things that I do, in the places that I do them, and all that. I haven't been particularly introspective, quite the contrary actually, I've been spending a rather large amount of time NOT thinking about things, or at least spending quite a bit of time trying not to think about things, and doing a rather decent job of it. I have had things to say, topics to discuss, and events to document, I just haven't really had the heart to do so much.

For those who wonder and worry, life is good. I'm still fighting off the plague, but it's looking more like a winning battle every day, I'm still loving my job and comedysportz, pretty much everything is maintaining at status quo. For the record: Yes there was a guy I was flirting with via email for awhile. Yes it was a good time and I enjoyed it, no it wasn't a "relationship," no he isn't moving in with me, yes I am a little pissed that it has been discussed behind my back, and no I will not be sharing any more intimate details of my life with you that you may distort and pass on.
I assume that the reason it was discussed was an overriding sense of concern for my emotional well-being in the situation, and while I do appreciate the love that I'm sure you feel was behind it, butt the fuck out. I have a pretty good handle on my life, I know what is and isn't good for me, and sometimes, what's good for me is to dream for a minute or two. Sometimes I just need to stop being so damned rational and give myself a chance to have a little bit of fun, and to giggle about that fun with friends, with the knowledge that what I say will not be held against me, changed, mangled, distorted, and passed on. It's possible that I implied some of the things that got back to me, but I said very little of it, and what I did say, I said in a brief fit of girliness that I deserved to have, but that is not indicative of my over-all emotional state. I'm a smart, rational, feet-on-the-ground kind of girl. I know how the world works, and I'm not about to forget it. You know that about me. And if you don't then you have even less right to feign concern about me. Not that any of it is anyone's business but my own, but the whole thing fizzled at about the same time it began, it was fun, it made me smile, and it reminded me, ever so briefly, that I am an attractive person on multiple levels, which is always a welcome reminder. That's all.