Sleepwalking in Tulsa

one of those posts.

2006-03-04T20:48:00.000-06:00

so, try this again. Have moved again; have not paid cell phone bill in a while, will get to that soon; do not have internet at home, can only use friend's or library access. I'm still out here somewhere. Just having a hard time getting everything lined up.

The fact that I can sit for long enough to use the computer is a great thing. The fact that I can sit and drive is also grand.
What do you take for granted? There are so many things that we can do easily, that we do all the time, that we don't think about until we can no longer do them with such ease.
Think about it:
sit
stand
walk
breathe
eat
drink
see
hear
grip small objects
eat pre-packaged food, without having to check the contents to see if some tiny ingredient will kill you
brush your hair/teeth
wipe your own ... whatever
use a phone/computer
drive
sleep

there are people -- many people -- who cannot do one or more of the above without pain, assistance, or at all. Arthritis, diabetes, allergies; panic attacks, mental disorders, birth defects, lost limbs...
How lucky are we, the relatively whole and healthy, who can do for ourselves?
How whiny, small minded, petty, are those who simply will not? Not can't, but won't.
How many people will you witness, in the next 24 hours, whining and complaining, bitching their way through life about the small things they could just cope with or do for their damn selves?
How many people will you not notice that can't quite do these same things with the same ease, but will do them just the same, struggling with some defect in the process, but still completing the action? Without the accompanying chorus of complaints.

I'm not saying that there aren't people with legitimate complaints that don't complain. There are lots, and we all know who you are, thank you very much, yes, we see you, shut up now. I'm just saying, if you can walk across the room, get a glass out of the cabinet, fill it with the beverage of your choice and drink it, all without pain or undue effort, count yourself lucky. It's the small things that count, and sometimes we forget what they really are.

2005-11-03T10:48:00.000-06:00

Will soon be on our way to KC to see the elf boy and attend our (my) very first con ever. Bought a digital camera, should have many pictures to post, somehow, as I am behind the curve again. no internet will do that, though.
So. There have been exciting things happening at work -- not in the good for business way, in the "hey look, something is on fire" kind of way. Fun. Must remember that when the guy who never hurries, (and I mean not for anything), Runs in a particular direction, I should be prepared to grab my shit and hurry in the opposite direction. Oh yes, great confusion ensued. Anyway. Must wake up boyfriend, get oil change, see piercing guy (oh, yeah, there are new piercings now; no, there will probably not be pictures, use your imaginations) pack, get lunch, pay for storage unit, see if new glasses have arrived, clean out car, wash car, leave town. Not necessarily in that order. So. Hope you all have good weekends, take care, be well, I am still working on the regular posting. Just hoping that life will settle just a little more.
Oh, and by the way -- Jess, Ninsi -- Mike and Whitney got married.

The sleeper walks

2005-10-19T05:23:00.000-05:00

And sometimes she will even get to post, now that the portal is regained.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have returned.
I see that many many things have changed in my absence, and I ask that you bear with me as I slog through the update process. Any information you can forward to me about who went where etc. would be greatly appreciated so's I can make this quicker.
However, it is now about 5:30, I still have not had my shower, and must be up earlier than usual for stupid meeting thing at work. So.

Nice to be back.

HURDLES -- #1: The Back Injury (or Where it all begins)

2005-05-23T03:13:00.000-05:00

A back injury will change a lot of things.
For me, it is things such as:

sleeping habits
eating habits
feelings about prescription drugs
the way I feel about my partner
awareness of the physical self
views on exercise and food
view of the future -- employment, education, family, retirement
financial stability (or lack thereof)

It has been recommended in a most pointed manner that I am overweight and this is unacceptable, that I must change or risk complications and further injury.

G-- D--- *&%(#!!@^&

Grr. Honestly, the reason that I am so irritated is not the fact that the surgeon told me I was fat and this was bad. It's the fact that before this injury occured, I was just coming to terms with the fact that I was fat, had been fat, and was (honestly) too friken' lazy to change it, and this might be ok because I was beautiful anyway.

And now, it's not ok. I'm still beautiful, but I am required to change under threat of future severe consequences. Dammit.

For those of you who aren't following the point of my aggravation, it is essentially that I am being forced into a position of hypocrisy, having just achieved equanimity with my situation. (I think those are the words I was looking for.) Any of you who disagree, feel free to.

I now do a small series of stretching exercises every day (twice, when I remember/have the energy/strength) .

I worked my full 40 hours last week; it kicked my ass. Not quite as bad as when I first began, not as good as the last time I did it.

I did not go back to the position I was in when I got hurt: it was a temporary positon, and apparently they have a precedent for things like this. End result: back to the trenches for me.

I am now desperately aware of how precarious my position is right now. I have no education, no long term employment experience to flaunt, no credit, no money, and the money that is coming in goes out before it actually gets in. The job, for what it is, pays reasonably well. But I'm pretty damn sure I don't want to do this same job for the next 20, 10, 5 years. If I'm still with this company in 5 years, I really hope I've got an office job. Or at least one that has a better pay scale. Or something, please God.

I was talking with the Pretzel and Goat this morning as we sat on their front porch in the beautiful morning, drinking first a bottle of red wine and then screwdrivers; we ended up talking about Purpose. And yes, I do mean the capitalized one. The one that drives you forward, gives you direction and a goal. Pretzel has one. Goat has one, maybe two.

I don't.

I am disturbed by this, for more than one reason. I have always wanted that need/want/desire to chase that dream; to have a dreamvision so strong that it pulls and propels me, shapes my path, alters my perception. I want the hooks of light that lodge in my flesh, burning as I go where they direct or as I fight against them. I want the Mettatron to announce my annointment to me as I go through my mundane life. I want my life story to be interesting, uplifting, compelling, heartwarming, all those standard blurbics -- only for real.

But I can't read the assignment. I am missing the signs, misreading the oracles. As usual, I don't know where to begin. The still small voice sounds a lot like my paranoia, and my insecurities, and therefore it is incredibly hard to tell which one I'm supposed to listen to.

O God, hear my cry: what is my purpose?

my very own crazy ass neighbors

2005-04-17T08:21:00.000-05:00

So, yesterday, I get up and put on shorts and a shirt and then think, "wait. This is Oklahoma, and just because yesterday was gorgeous doesn't mean that today will be the same. I should check the weather." And just so you know, checking the weather in my house means opening the door and looking outside, feeling the temperature, for, like, five seconds, you know? Just open the door, look out, close the door. Nothing complicated. Not even stepping out. Just looking.
So I go to the door, and I open it, and I notice the guy from the apartment next to us standing out there with his back to me, holding something. I also note that the weather is fine for shorts, being clear, sunny and warm. Having completed my five second weather check, I closed the door.
Did you follow that?
I opened the door, looked out, closed the door.
Having closed and relocked the door (habit, sometimes it just blows open if we don't) I hear the chick from next door YELL: AM I BEING TOO LOUD ON MY OWN FUCKIN' FRONT PORCH? OPEN AND CLOSE THAT DOOR AGAIN, I'LL KICK YOUR ASS!

Whuh...?

I'm standing inside my apartment, just behind my front door, trying to decide if I should open and close the door again, just because I can, or should I poke my head out and look at her, or just leave it alone. I finally decided to go and share my latest adventure from the outside world with Luigi, who always understands my bafflement at moments like this.
So I went and relayed the whole story to him, and he was just as amazed as I was. I mean, the only time we have ever knocked on their door to complain about anything was the time they woke us up because we could hear them fighting. I mean seriously. It sounded like a WWF match in their bathroom for a minute. (Their bathroom shares the wall with ours, so the bedrooms are on the outside walls of the building. So do you see, now, how much noise they had to be making to WAKE US UP?) Luigi had gotten up, and knocked on their door, in his boxers, and told them look. I don't care. It's none of my business. But it's like eight in the morning, my gf works nights, and you are really loud. Or something very close. I wasn't there. I was in the bed.
But that was when they first moved in, like a year ago or pretty close to it. So if she's still pissed off that we complained because they're having a domestic brawl that is loud enough to wake up your neighbors that are sleeping three rooms away from the fight instead of, you know, calling the police or something, I just don't know what to say.
I was kind of hoping that she would be outside when we left the house so she would say something, but I still was searching for just the right response, so I guess it's better this way. I'm still thinking about it. I think that the best response to anything she would say would be, "Why does it have to be about you?" and then just get into my car.
I am so glad I'm going to be moving...

I've got to admit, it's getting better,

2005-04-13T01:04:00.000-05:00

a little better, all the time.

We took the kitty to the emergency vet on sunday, and they gave her subcutaneous fluids (since kitties don't do I.V.s) and gave her a shot to help settle her tummy and let her sleep. On the way home, her nictitating membrane (the white inner lid that comes over the eye from the inner corner) was already a quarter of the way out. She was fighting so hard to stay awake, poor darling. By the time we reached home, she INSISTED that she be put down so she could walk into the house. (Don't worry, she wears a harness and a leash when she's outside.) She stumbled into the house, leaning against every available wall. Luigi said she staggered into the bedroom and fell down under the bed and passed out. Poor kitty. We left and had dinner with some friends, and when we came home, she was awake and scratching at the bedroom door to be let out. As soon as we opened the door, she went straight to where her food and water should have been, and came back and gave us a look that said "god dammit, what did you do with it?" She was still walking kind of spraddle-legged, not her usual one-foot-straight-in-front-of-the-other grace. I forgot to pick up her cup in the bathroom (yes, she has her own cup of water in the bathroom. Did I never mention that she's spoiled?) and she was drinking before I remembered to pick it up. But she kept it down, and then when Luigi fed her, by hand, she was bititng his fingers. She's much better now, I expect her to be chasing Tony all over the place again very soon.

I've had surgery, been home, and slept a whole lot. The kitty has been keeping me company, which really isn't usual for her. But this morning she crawled under the covers between us.
Surgery was ok, I guess. I slept through it all, as they intended. When I woke up in the recovery room, I was distressed. All the stress finally had an unobstructed outlet, I guess. But I woke up some more, and my head cleared. I noticed the sound of another woman moaning, and without thinking, I responded to her. I was saying, "Don't worry, honey; it's ok; it will be allright" things like that. The nurses kind of giggled at me. One asked the other what was going on and they said I was nursing the lady next to me, and they just laughed that smiling laugh. I don't know why I did it, there was no thought to it, just a response to someone else's discomfort and distress.
When I can drive again, I will try to visit her in the hospital. 'Cause I said I would.

So there you go.

sometimes, I hate my life

2005-04-09T04:49:00.000-05:00

People with small children who can't communicate their needs, I know you feel me on this one.

The kitty is sick.
She threw up a lot yesterday, so we finally took her to the vet, even though we so don't have the money, only because Luigi's mom lent it to us. The trip cost us $122 and change, we got 4 different kinds of medicine, she got a shot, and she threw up again right after we got home. She's thrown up at least twice more since then, and she just ate a little, just now. I pray, seriously, that she can keep it down. I am so terrified that there is something really amazingly wrong with her. All the vet said was that it could be anything, since vomiting is pretty much the first sign for any illness in a cat. Thanks.
So I've been checking on her every so often, making sure she's still breathing; all I want to do is cuddle her and cry, but she's really not up for that right now. So I lie on the floor with her for a while, and then I go away and try to do something else.
This, on top of I'm having surgery on Monday.
And we have to move at the end of this month.
And we don't know where yet.
And there's not a lot of money to work with.
And there's a lot of people that want money from me.
And I'm supposed to start my period here soon.
And I need to get rid of like half of everything I own.
And Luigi's best friend had surgery on his neck yesterday.

There's more, but if I don't stop now I'm gonna cry all over the keyboard.

Yo

2005-04-05T13:48:00.000-05:00

Update:
the weekend following the last post, my left leg hurt so badly that I had to get up in the middle of the "night" (sleeping period, whatever) and walk around to try and alleviate the pain. It was like a cramp that just wouldn't let go. So monday I told the medical folks at work about it, and to cut to the chase, I have a herniated disk and am now scheduled for surgery on the 18th. I am on worker's compensation, I am not working, I have to move or stay here and pay more, I don't have enough money, I can't sleep for very long, bitch bitch bitch.

There you go. I am now tired of sitting.

hello, world

2005-03-06T04:41:00.000-06:00

I am still here, somewhere...

I just stopped having the desire to blog. I could blame it all on the post holiday stress, the readjusting to a normal work week and the fact that I threw my back out on Jan. 31 and could not sit long enough to type and then I just didn't feel like communicating with the rest of the world for a bit. I have been enjoying the staying quietly at home, with my Luigi, not having to go/be/do anywhere/anything.

My back is much better, thank you. I think the only lingering effect is that I have trained myself to fear/flinch at bending over. I'm working on it.

Luigi and I will soon be house hunting (apt. hunting) as we will soon reach the end of the lease here, and I would like to pay less in rent.

My sister is going to have to sell the house that she remodeled and turned into a beautiful, cozy little cottage. It was the saddest little house in the neighborhood when she bought it, and she and I are both sad she has to sell and I can't buy. So if anyone wonderful is looking for a small, gorgeous, cozy cottage in the downtown Tulsa area, let me know. But the new owners really should A) be great people and B)not plan on having kids.

My mom currently has a "touch of pneumonia". She sounds just a well as ever over the phone, but I do worry. As insane as I feel when I talk to /think about that woman, I do love her. I have to, she's my mother.

I can feel spring on it's way -- I just wish it would hurry.

I don't know if I will blog again to ask for readmittance to the blogring. We'll see.

2005-01-30T04:04:00.000-06:00

You scored as Musical/Rhythmic. You are sensitive to sounds in your environment, enjoy music and prefer listening to music when you study or read. You learn best through melody and music. People like you include singers, conductors, composers, and others who appreciate the various elements of music.

Musical/Rhythmic

89%

Verbal/Linguistic

75%

Visual/Spatial

57%

Intrapersonal

54%

Interpersonal

54%

Bodily/Kinesthetic

36%

Logical/Mathematical

29%

The Rogers Indicator of Multiple Intelligences
created with QuizFarm.com

birthdays/age

2005-01-11T01:18:00.000-06:00

go and read Ninsi's blog post about her recent B-day. Then come back.

Ready?

I keep forgetting that she's just 1.5 years younger than me. I am so accustomed to leading my pack in the birthday category that I just tend to assume I've got at least 3 years on everybody.
Can I tell you how weird it is for me to realize that there are people I've known and been friends with for twenty years? Even fifteen gets me. It just doesn't seem that I should have known anyone for that long, much less to still know them and like them.
I agree that the odd numbered years are the ones that catch in the mind; I think it has something to do with the mental shape of them. They seem to have lots of corners and edges and pokey bits; whereas the even numbers feel rounded and slip away like nothing is happening. But that is not true. There is always something happening, whether the year is sharp or smooth. I struggle to remember this all the time and tend to fail more often than not. I, too, am experiencing the sharp clack, clack of the bioclock and the frustration of missed opportunities and squandered time. There is simply nothing to be done for it but to square our shoulders and keep going. 30 will arrive in its own time, as will 40, and then 50, and unless we all go up into a glowing cloud of radioactive politically driven bullshit at that time (or before then, for that matter) the rest will also follow in the designated fashion regardless of our desire, influence, hopes or ability, so we might as well just try to keep up.

anyway: so 25 was quite a year for me. When I was about 17, I think, maybe 16, I was having an immensely hard time of living. I was very depressed, and being a teenager lent a bit of melodrama to the scenario. I had a long talk with a good friend one night, and I told him that I didn't think I was going to live much longer. This, of course, frightened him and he made me promise that I would wait until I was at least 25. This not only gave me a few years to try and get my shit together, it would also allow me to see the turn of the millenium, which was fast approaching.
The year I turned 25, I was living with the Evil M/ Evil Ex, whatever you want to call him. And I remembered the promise I had made to my friend, those few years ago. And I was glad that I had made that promise, and I became determined to get the fuck out of that situation and keep on living. My mom told me in the fall of that year that my friend had been calling, and that he had stopped by to visit a couple of times. I knew that he remembered too. This only made me more firmly intentioned to achieve liberation from the hell I was in. And I did it. In the very end of that year, 2001, I managed to wrangle a situation that cut off the relationship and headed the Evil M back toward his end of the country and the fuck out of my life. He was gone by April of 2002, I moved back into my mom's house, and got in touch with my friend. He would come by and see me, and we would talk. I don't remember ever discussing the promise with him during that time, and I don't think it would have been necessary. If he thought I forgot, it was the same as if I remembered. I was still alive, and had learned a little bit about living and fighting for it.

Time has passed, and I have lost touch with my friend again. But that's ok. I know that he is out there, and I know that he knows how to find me through my mom. And even if the bizarre happens and I never see him again, it will be alright. I kept my promise, and he kept his. And even though I have had some really bad days since I passed the deadline (heh) I have gotten past those too. I now have someone in my life that I can cling to when it gets that bad. And I know that he will prop me up, defend me, put my socks on for me, whatever it takes. And I'll get through the next bad days that come, and the ones after that. It sounds so damn stupid and syrupy and trite, but all you can do it grit your teeth and keep going. Claire (from The Breakfast Club) said "Suicide is not an option." but the theme song to M*A*S*H says "but suicide is painless, it brings on many changes, and I can take or leave it as I choose." I believe this is more the right of it. Suicide is an option. Just not a really good one. And I've learned to leave it. My choice. My option. My life.

It's all about the Q

2005-01-08T20:30:00.000-06:00

I hate being sick. I caught some crap from Dr. Nick, and it sucks. Head drainage, sinus pressure, body ache... F'n flu. But there is a light in the fog, and Denis Leary said it best: "NyQuil NyQuil I love you, you giant fucking Q!" If you haven't seen his "No cure for cancer" stand up routine, go see it now. not suitable for children. anyway. I'm going back to the couch for another date with the GameCube, and then later I'm sure there will be more unconciousness.

Here's hoping that I'm well by the next post.

"end, begin, all the same.

2004-12-31T05:31:00.000-06:00

Big change. Sometimes good, sometimes bad." -- Augrah, The Dark Crystal

I love that movie.

Here we are, folks, at that point again. Humans are really into this boundary thing -- end, begin, here, there, mine yours theirs ours in out now then near far blah blah blah.

But it give us something to do.

So:

there are a few things about me that I am working on changing/learning/figuring out. I am seeing 30 on the horizon and moving fast. I am learing all about the anecdote that says you might as well do it now because if you don't, it won't get done, and you will be the same age if you do as if you don't.

Age.

I have become accustomed through most of my life to being the oldest in my social group. There are a couple of folks I hang around with that are older than me, but for the most part, I'm the elder. And now I am bearing down upon yet another landmark/milestone. I don't know how I feel about it, or should feel about it, or if I really ought to pay any attention to it at all.

Indecision.

A continuing trait throughout my life: the inability to make a decision. Or to stick with said decision, once made. I admire those folks who can come to a conclusion /pick something/ answer questions in a timely fashion and then make these things work for them. I have the horrible need to be right in my choices, even when there really is no right to be had.

Personality.

I have noticed that my Leo traits are beginning to truly blossom, now that I am much more secure in my self, my life; more safe. Mucho kudos to my best friend and dream guardian, Luigi. He has made a safe place in my life for me to really find out who and how I am and to be that person. I'm not really sure about some of the things about me, though.
Bossiness, for example. I am really becoming a pushy wench, and while I try to temper it with smiles and laughter, it doesn't change the fact. It's ok at work, I guess, because somebody has to lead/direct the team, point them in the right direction etc.; and they generally follow my direction. I don't have any more power than they do, nor even more responsiblity. I guess I just see it as a "somebody has to do it" situation, and as long as nobody complains I guess it works. What else:
I am more -- direct? Open? Public? Maybe comfortable. I am coming to grips with my physical self and being more relaxed about it. I'm not totally convinced that this is always a good thing. However, it could be that I am feeling my lack of sense of style -- this is affected distinctly by my lack of funding for wardrobe, I am sure. I have been ruled by my need to be comfortable instead of fashionable for years; now, I am doubting the wisdom of that trend and trying to make the twain meet.

Goals.

I am beginning to understand the idea of a career and a life plan. The question "where do you see yourself in five years" suddenly makes sense. I don't know that I actually have an answer yet (see "Indecision" above) but I get the point in it; I feel the movement of time.
So what do I want to do in my life?
Write.
Paint.
Maybe do the family thing; I'm not sure about that, it's pretty scary.
See the ocean again.
Own a house.
Make a cloak.
Sew a quilt.
Exercise more.
Get all those pictures scanned and/or into albums.
Write letters. Not email, but actual pen and paper letters. And regularly.
Keep a tidy and welcoming home. (Emphasis on the keep, there.)
There are many more, but I forget them on a regular basis.

Consistency.

I want to start doing a thing and continue it in a regular fashion. This applies to almost everything in my life right now. I am so terrible bad about beginning a thing and leaving off partway through.

I suppose that is more than enough for right now.

Happy New Year.

#100

Post # 99

2004-12-30T06:40:00.000-06:00

Ok.
Had dinner with some of the webring folks (see just about everyone else's blogs for details) and there were photos taken. Red has a couple posted if you want to see. Ninsi's engagment pendant is truly lovely, it was nice to meet Red in person, got to see Zero and girlfriend again (he looked and acted like he felt pretty good) also got to see the Squid, and I am so going to have to look for one of those hats. You can see it in the group shot on Red's page.
We were invited to go along to Shreveport for the NYE festivities, but we're not going to go, after all. Sorry folks.

That's about all I wanted to say right now. There's more for tomorrow.

get a clue

2004-12-20T04:40:00.000-06:00

It's damn near impossible to compete with the wedding noise; therefore, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?

So:

hey, Phlome. (/Ninsi)

You want to know why nobody has voted for the April 4, 2006 option?
'Cause it's on a damn Tuesday. That's why. A Friday, yeah. A Saturday, woot.
but a Tuesday??

Come on.

Really.

Aside from that, I think early April is lovely. So, how about, like, April 7? 8? 14?

Think about it.

Advice dispensed, I return to the Legends of Symphonia, which is currently keeping me from my sleeping for the next few days. I really dig the game, but it's a bit of a bitch trying to run it without the manual. Sigh.

saturday mornings

2004-12-18T06:09:00.000-06:00

they used to be all about all the cereal you could eat (or get away with) and cartoons until the parents insisted you go outside or clean your room or whatever.

But now...
I don't like the cartoons that were on the last time I tried to watch them; and anymore I am still awake at the cartoon hour as opposed to getting up. And I don't really eat cereal anymore.

But I am thinking about ressurecting this ritual -- and if I don't like what is available on tv, I'll just have to find the old faithfuls -- on dvd, vhs, or downloaded, if necessary. I long for even the feeling of the more innocent times, when I didn't have demands for my time and money -- hell, when I didn't have money and it didn't matter one lick.

I just want to sit on the couch (yay, the couch! thanks again to M&W) and eat cereal or donuts or whatever and stare at the brightly colored pictures on the screen and run for the bathroom when a commercial interrupts in the third hour of watching. And after that, I may go back to bed.

what is/was your favorite cartoon?

"C-O-F-F-E-E,

2004-12-12T04:28:00.000-06:00

coffee is not for me..."
what a lie this has become. Granted, I only drink my own, probably crappy, brew; but when I drink it, I drink a lot of it. I'm drinking some right now. I wonder why it tastes so different when you reheat it?...
I also don't drink it straight. I doctor mine: the favorite trick is to add hot chocolate mix -- this is called "coffee of shitness" around here. We attribute this discovery to the Goat, but I would like to say that I have always added cappucino to my coffee when purchased at QuikTrip. (I love QT, btw. Just so you know.) But she was definetly the one who graced the concoction with the title "coffee of shitness" so I guess I'll let it stand.

I do wish the picture had shown up on the last quiz; I kind of liked it.

I need to change the quote under the title of this page -- any suggestions?
maybe I could put up a poll, if I got enough good ones. Otherwise, I have no burning indecisions I need remedied by the masses, thank you. I'm trying to quit.

if I were a Disney Princess...

2004-12-08T07:59:00.000-06:00

You Are Aurora! (A.K.A. Sleeping Beauty.)

Thoughtful and loving. Authority figures probably have been sheltering you all of your life. Thankfully you're a very tranquil person who is content with what life has given you, but secretly you want to know how the outside world works.

Which Disney Princess Are You?

wow and goddamn. don't you just hate it when some stupid piece of pop-pseudopsychology nails you?

just more mental crud.

2004-12-06T06:37:00.000-06:00

Ninsi said she was getting spam comments. So I went back through the old posts, just skimming, to see what the comments said. I found a couple that said there were more comments than there really were, don't know what's up with that, but no spam comments. huh.
I also noticed that the last post was #70.
Ick. I hate this week. It makes me feel restless.
However, I have been able to do things at my table lately, and as I have actually been accomplishing things, I feel very satisfied about it.
I have no quiz to post, no list, no jokes. I'm just tired right now. Run down. Battery low.
The Lady W and Lord M gave us their old couch. Luigi and Lord M carried it down the street and it was a sonovabitch getting it into the apartment because of the way the apt is laid out. But it is tremendously comfortable, and Danger Cat has already claimed one corner as hers.

ok, I'm done.

Tony

2004-12-04T14:38:00.000-06:00

Last Sun. we took in Dr. Nick's cat, Tony. He has another one, Mina, but she's gone to live with mom until he can get his own place.
The reason we took Tony is that Dr. Nick moved in with his friend J, and J's gf, K. K decided that she wanted her own cat, therefore Dr. Nick could not bring his. He wasn't happy about this, but that's not the story here.
So we get the cat.
You remember that we have a little cat ourselves, Danger Cat?
She was not happy.
Of course, that could have a bit to do with the fact that the first thing we did when we brought Tony in was to put flea drops on the necks of both cats, and that always makes her pissy. And then there's the whole "who is this in my territory" thing. We were prepared for a few fights, for lots of skulking and growling and hissing. Danger Cat did all the noise making. Tony just found a place to put his enormous ass and stayed there. He's solid black, long fur, yellow eyes. And so amazingly calm... Let me tell you, for such a small creature, she sure can make some big noises. Nowhere near as calm as Tony. But it's kind of hard to be that laid back...
She has gotten used to him, pretty much, and I'm sure the fact that he is so mellow and amazingly calm has a lot to do with it. She would growl and hiss at him, and he would just look at her -- or move. But he didn't really growl back, and he hasn't tried to take over. She told him that my drawing table was hers, goddamit, and he said ok then. The top of the chest by the window, the top of the drawers by the computer desk, and the computer desk itself -- these are his places. He wasn't nasty about it, at all, he just started hanging out there, and she didn't argue.
So today, after I get up off the floor where Luigi had made me a pallet in front of the fireplace, I go into the kitchen to make cinnamon rolls. (Mmmmm, cinnamon rolls....) Tony is having a bite to eat, and DC is sitting in front of the stove, behind him. She has taken to following him around, like she wants to play with him, but he won't really play. Of course, she is like 1/3 his size (no exaggeration.) and younger than he is. But last night, there was about 30 seconds of running chasing play going on. I'm thinking that by the time Dr. Nick comes to take Tony home, Tony and DC will be very good friends and she will be heartbroken when he leaves.

If I can catch them close enough together to get a picture, I will post it so you can see the size difference. But be warned -- Tony will probably just show up as a big black spot, maybe with some eyes in it.

ha ha!

2004-11-26T09:02:00.000-06:00

I snuck past the blogstapo and phlome -- I'm not booted from the webring, ha ha ha!
ok, I'll be good.

Guess what I did for Thanksgiving.
go on, guess.

Ready?

Nothing.
that's right, I did nothing. I stayed up until noon, then slept until seven. It was good. Since then, we have not left the apt, nor have we put on proper clothes. We have been grazing on the spiral cut ham that we bought at 4 am on Thurs. and extra sharp cheese and these rolls that came in one big wheel... it is good. Right now, Luigi is building a nice little fire in the fireplace, and I think we will just lie around, read some books, maybe sleep some more... this is my idea of a holiday. No stress, good grazing foods, just a call or two between family members. No dressing up, no stressful cooking frenzy, no having to be places or do things. Just relaxing.

And, just like everyone else:
What I am thankful for.

The ability to walk under my own power, without difficulty or pain. This is a great pleasure to me.
a decent job. not the best, but definetly not the worst.
good friends.
family.
Danger Cat.
My best friend, my boyfriend -- Luigi.
My storm-colored car, Fiona.
decent hair.
reasonably good skin.
Smarties.
Chocolate.
Margaritas.
graham crackers.
seasons.
Futurama.
Boondock Saints, etc...
Roe Vs. Wade
The right to assemble
Freedom of speech
internet access
my table! (oh, my table...)
pens and paper (mmm, office supplies....)
books and books and books
warm blankets
good socks
the extra weight I carry, which means that I have plenty of food all the time
clean, drinkable running water
the fact that as a woman, I can vote and work and hold my own money and property; continue in this vein...
good genes, that gave me a good strong body
chrysanthemums

I also think that if you haven't already, you should check out Red's page and the poem/list she has there. I think she's got it right.

ok, I guess that's enough for now. I'll try to get back to this later. Phlome, thanks for missing me this time around. I'll be good.

mmmmmm...

2004-11-18T05:27:00.000-06:00

yes! yes, ok, I'm posting!
before anyone gets their underwear in a wad, I'm posting.

rain, rain, rain, rain;
some that is like real rain rain and some that is good splattery sprinkling
not much sun, grey skies and cloudy
makes for good sleeping, which means it will stop all this once I get a chance to sleep.

working lots, thanks.
just got the biggest paycheck I've ever recieved to date. Love it; too damn bad it's all accounted for already (if I am good and pay things like I should.)

Not sure how I feel about the holidays being so frikken close, again;
not sure how I feel about not having the little sister here for stuff-your-face-and-fall-down day;
Not sure how I feel about much except more sleep, please, and lots more money for much less effort.

there you go. nice quick, short post.
If you're very very good, and I feel up to it, I may do it again in a much shorter amount of time than the last.

No, really --

2004-11-10T05:42:00.000-06:00

I seriously had like three things I was going to blog about, none of which I can remember now. And seriously, they were important/good topics. Damn.

So, here's some mental junk for you.

I have never been one of those girls that wears makeup or does stuff with their hair everyday. I don't even do it "often". It's random and rare, usually reserved for very special occasions or when I just damn feel like it. Because sometimes I do feel like it. My mother always insisted, and still does, that when you feel - crappy - you should do the following:
1. wash your face (or have a bath, depending on time and inclination. )
2. eat something.
3. have a nap.

Sometimes it also helps to brush the hair; I have noticed that on the weekends, if I don't brush my hair I just can't get into the day.
So there's the makeup thing. My oldest sister works for MK, not as a MK lady but she goes to Dallas twice a year for like a month to work the behind-the-scenes part of the big conventions where they give away the fur coats, diamond rings and pink Cadillacs. She always comes home with bags and shirts and other stuff -- along with, of course, the latest "product", as they say. Cleansers, lotions, lipstick eyeshadow blush perfume mascara -- whatever is new, this time around.
So I apparently always have the newest colors, the hippest product. And I don't wear any of it, really. I do love the little perfume pendant, and I like the perfume when it is dispensed one tiny drop at a time; but I recently sorted out my collection of makeup and I still have a huge quantity for someone that wears it erratically. And I'm never really sure what colors actually look good on me, or how to figure this out. Makeup is too expensive to just *buy* random articles, just to try. I'd rather spend the money on books, or pens and paper, or Cheetos or something...
I apparently also have good hair. I don't know about this. It's curly and wild and I would rather it be much less curly and much much smoother and softer and tamer. I would so prefer some cute, easily maintained/manicured housecat haircut to the wild lion mane that I have. Add to this the fact that I work in a factory, and therefore it is either braided or wound into a bun, and we have me wanting to shave my head. Again. It's something that I think about more the less I want to do things with my hair. All of my sisters -- and my mom, I do believe -- have shaved their heads at one point or another. And they all look great. I don't think I can pull it off. I guess I am just too feminine, if only in my own mind. I like to think that I am classy/classically beautiful; but again, it could easily be in my own mind.

OH!
THAT was one of the things I wanted to talk about.
Over the weekend, I got called "CUTE". I don't recall ever being "cute". I've been "pretty" often and for a long while. I am occasionally "beautiful", but it's hard to take seriously. I don't think I've ever been "gorgeous", but that also is incredibly hard to take seriously. But anyway--
I was at a party, and was outside on the back porch where all the smokers were, and The God of Biscuits, etc. made some comments about the way my family is about something, I forget what -- and I drew myself up and put my hands on my hips in preparation to defend my clan, and the Goat burst out with "(Sleepwalker), you are so CUTE!"
( wtf? )
I was totally distracted from my defensive posture.
(Cute?
Where the hell did that come from?)
I have since then been wrestling with this idea. Cute how? Why not sexy, of alluring, or - something, I don't know. Why cute?
I asked Luigi about this, and he said it was something about how I moved when I went from relaxed and neutral to (I thought) imperious and righteous. The phrase "impertinent and saucy wench" was used.
again:
wtf?
Did I miss something?
I asked him again, the next day, and he said it also had to do with the fact that everyone knew that I wasn't really mad, so it was cute.

I'm still not sure I get it.
I have absolutely no idea what the movement was that provoked this response. I do this often, making a noise or a gesture that is totally non-reproduceable but is apparently very entertaining to whoever I am with.

Ok.
I think that's probably enough crap for today.
We'll try it again later.

saturday.

2004-11-06T07:01:00.000-06:00

it is, again.

The nation has voted, the regime continues. I am sure that I don't have to say anything else, as you all feel me on this... and if you don't, then you don't want to hear it anyway.

Blech.

I'm down for moving to Mexico and building our own floating islands like that one guy did...

aside from that, the cold weather has arrived. The days are still kind of nice and warm, but the nights are becoming decidedly nippy.

And Christmas is sweeping the nation like a bad social disease. Thanksgiving isn't even "Christmas, part 1" anymore. It's more like a day of rest right before the madness truly begins.

By the way, before anyone tries to accuse me of being insensitive or uncaring about our poor Zero, let me just say that I do think about him every day, and I worry too, and if my opinion counted for anything, I would tell him to NOT get chemo, and go for the surgery thank you very much. but I haven't been asked, and as he plans to get second opinions, I guess all I can do is think about him just like the rest of you that can't reach him right now.
Good luck, man. You're on my worry list.

Ok.

Maybe someday I will dust off the soapbox and tell you exactly why I am so truly frightened about the next four years. But I don't have the strength or the time, and I can't guarantee that I would do a reasonable job.
Just remember that thanks to the "Patriot" Act, every (and I mean EVERY) phone in the country is subject to tapping, without notice or permission. That's right, folks; not just the public pay phones -- your home land lines and your private cell phones as well. Think about it. Good old Uncle Sam is turning into Big Brother Bush. Or maybe he already has.

Knats, I don't want any comments about the tone of my post. I can't do happy chirpy wacky right now, so deal. :P

Have a good weekend.

the tuesday usual

2004-11-02T06:17:00.000-06:00

just so you folks officially know, if you hadn't noticed, I tend to post on the mornings of Tuesday and Friday. This is because they are the ends of the first and last day of my work week. When I work overtime, it moves to Saturday morning.
Just so you know.
also:

NINSI. If you are going to invite me/us to ride down with you or do visity things WOULD YOU PLEASE CALL. Neither one of us checks the blog regularly, and therefore it is an unreliable way to transmit time-sensitive messages. Thank you very much, love you.

that goes for everyone else, as well.

just so you know.

ok.
Halloween:

we live in an apartment, and we were not expecting any trick-or-treaters, but we had one intrepid young vampire knock at the door. I should have given the kid a handfull of candy, but I didn't. we carved pumpkins, an activity I really enjoy, Luigi for the first time. I just don't understand how people can get so pissed off about it... anyway. I'm sure you all share my feelings on the subject, insert your own rant here.
I also cut out a bat shape out of black paper and put brown tissue behind it and put it over the light outside the door; I think it looks really cool. I guess I should take it down to save it.
It rained too much for good trick-or-treating; we went driving around the local neighborhood and only saw kids getting in and out of cars. No wandering hordes of "demonlings" or whatever, only SUVs with popstar wannabes and the store bought witch. It really made me want to get out there and go door to door myself, just for the experience and nostalgia and to show these poor bubble-children how it is to be done, really. Luigi and I decided that it's not really about the candy, honestly. The candy is the excuse for the stomping around in the dark with friends and sometimes family, the dressing up as something you would like to be or something that scares you; the candy is the excuse for the outing.
Think about it:
The real fun of Halloween is the costumes, the activities after darkfall, the people you troupe around with. It's why grownups go to Halloween parties: because it's as close to what we did as kids as we feel like we can get away with. It's why teenagers still go out, whether they go door to door or not: it's the out in the dark with the homies, playing. It's why kids are so excited about Halloween. It's the night you can try out being whatever you want to be, whoever you want to be; it's the night you can be the thing that scares you, and thereby cancel some of the power it has over you.
So maybe next year, I'll dress up as a kid, pretending to be a grown-up, and I'll go door to door with my plastic pumpkin and glowstick and my grinning, laughing, giggling, snickering friends; and we will be the spirit of Halloween past. We will haunt the streets with glee, and stick our tounges out at those who accuse us of being too old for this. They'll just be jealous that we are doing what they know they want to do also. And maybe we will invite them to join us. And maybe the next year they will. And maybe, just maybe, the neighborhood streets on Halloween will be as they should: full of kids of all ages having a damn good time with their friends in the dark. Life is too short, and gets shorter the older you get. So which will you choose: the trick, or the treat?

not so bad now

2004-10-29T06:26:00.000-05:00

just finished a craptastic week at work; our shift does pretty good, keeps up with our end of things, sets up pretty nice for the next shift -- but when we come back, it's all undone. Ground zero, start over. Sucks monkey ass. anyway --
Don't worry about me, thanks for those of you sending me bright white (furious!) love, it is appreciated. Maybe someday I'll put it all in here, but for now, let's just say things are in a state of change.
And I guess that's really all I've got for now... Luigi tried to watch the eclipse, but it rained like hell on him for the whole thing. And I was working. Ah well.

Um.

Welcome back, to Wickket, who has been absent for a while.

Everyone have much fun for your Halloween festivities, I have no costume ready as is the normal way of things. I really really really really wish I could get away with Trick-Or-Treating anymore, but I just don't think I can pull it off. Sigh.

aaaaaaaaaaand... I'm done!

I'm here.

2004-10-26T14:05:00.000-05:00

but that's all I want to say about it right now.

I'll fill in the details as they happen.

Don't give up on me, I'm in here somewhere. I just don't think I feel much like talking at the moment.

yeah, I had to do it too.

2004-10-23T01:46:00.000-05:00

Which Pulp Fiction Character Are You?

You're a hardworking individual enshrouded by an overwhelming sense of mystery, beauty, and intrigue. Though always on the go, you keep focused, helping -- often rapturing -- those you meet.

Take the What Pulp Fiction Character Are You? quiz.

again, I'm not sure about this one. I guess I just don't test well.

halfway cheating, just for Ninsi

2004-10-22T14:58:00.000-05:00

Ok, real quick, just to assure you that I'm still here and kicking:

A few nights ago, I was leaving work, and as I passed the row of cars facing the building I noticed a big dark blue truck with a vanity plate that said:

Can

Corn

and I wished for not the first or last time that I had a decent digital camera.

So, just for you, Ninsi. I have no other details on this story and probably will never see that truck again. Mostly because I won't be actively looking. But if Fortune is kind, I will meet the person that owns that truck and I will ask. Just for you.

And now it's time for work. Again. For the 6th day in a row. Sucks for sleep, rocks for the paycheck, you know?

maybe, if I'm feeling ambitious, I'll post over the weekend. Though how I'll be able to compete with the NGfest audio posts and post party posts I don't know. But maybe, maybe, if you're really good (or at least ask nice) I'll post something.

don't read this post

2004-10-15T08:19:00.000-05:00

read the one below.

It's Friday. Fuckoff.

2004-10-15T07:47:00.000-05:00

I had to remove that last post w/pic; the image was just too damn big. It made the rest of the page act funny. I'm sure you noticed, you masters of perception, you.

We found most of the stuff from the cedar chest; a few things are still unaccounted for. I plan to go look at whatever likely shops I can find in the area, but I don't hold much hope for this.

Aside from that, it is now the middle of freakin' October, and it feels like it. This winter will probably be way too cold and much too long for my liking/comfort. We'll see how I hold up this time.

I have yet another project in the works: this one is in process, and it remains to be seen how far it will actually go. It may have to move and/or metamorphosize, maybe even more than once. It could be a good idea, however. I don't know. I'm rambling now, because it's like 8 in the morning and I'm still awake. Yes, still. Haven't you been paying attention?

There are emails in my inbox from some overly perky member of my graduating class -- it's time for that first damn reunion. 10 years; motherfucker. Wow. Don't remember ever thinking about where I would be at this time, or what I would be doing. Still not sure about it right now, for that matter. That can't be right; I can't be 28; there is now way it has actually been a decade -- a decade!!-- since I graduated.

Goddamn.

I suspect that the profanity ratio of this post is wildly askew; whether there is too much or not enough I cannot divine at this juncture.

Skroot. I'm gointa bed.

Enjoy your Friday, people. I plan to sleep through it.

weeping and wailing

2004-10-12T05:26:00.000-05:00

Bemoan the death of a hero
the sighing dirge, unsung in my head
a red cape, forlorn,
lies enshadowed on the floor

Who will be my hero now?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

This news almost overshadows the excitement my family is dealing with. The house that that noone is living in right now (FJ, Ninsi, this is the one by the school, remember?) was broken into recently. They took: the antique furniture that we hadn't moved yet because it never occured to us that someone would break into the house and steal the biggest thing they could find. That wasn't all -- in addition to the loss of the genuinely antique desk and attatched hutch, they took the matched lingirie (?) drawers that belonged to the Eldest sister, and mom's cedar chest that Youngest sister had packed all of her very best, Keeping-for-the-rest-of-her-life, leaving-to-whoever-comes-after-me treasures. They also took miscellaneous articles that were in the desk and drawers.
We will, in all likelyhood, never ever see any of these things again.

The sanctity of the house we spent our growing-up time in is broken. The stronghold is overcome; the castle fallen.

Precious articles of family and memory are in the hands of the unrelated and uncaring; pawed over and sorted, treasures discarded as trash.

My family is wounded.

I think it is easier to deal with a death. This is violation, not only of the homestead but of the soul. We don't know how to deal with this; we have no coping skills for this tragedy. Almost anything else, dear God, we could handle better.

Why this?
Why us?

sweet dreams are made of this...

2004-10-08T04:44:00.000-05:00

who am I to disagree?

I love that song. Love Annie Lennox, too. anyway.

Been dreaming a lot. In the old way, the way I used to : in color, in great sweeping story lines, in ways that I remember when I wake up. In one way, it's fun; it's nice to dream like that again.
In another way, it's not fun; it's a reminder that I am different than I used to be. I don't know if that is good or bad.

For a very long time, I wanted only to be a writer.
I don't do it very well. I am coming to terms with this.
For at least as long, or maybe longer, I wanted only to be a singer.
I am now out of practice. This is easily remedied, yes; but I don't think that I was ever as good as I thought I was.
For most of my life, I wanted to be a doctor/nurse/healer.
I can't cope with the real life situations of an institutional practitioner. And as for the holistic, energy working herb using type: Apparently, no one requires my aid. Strange, in more than one way.

I can't tell you if I ever really had a firm fix on "what I want to be when I grow up" and I don't seem to be making any headway at this point, either.

I live with the feeling that everyone else is out having adventures and good times and seeing Really Wild Things -- and I am not. I am always in the wrong place at the wrong time for such exciting stories to meet me. I am the collector of stories not my own. And I don't know what to do about it.

I occasionally suffer from what I have come to call the Wilding: when the air is just right, and the wind is blowing, and the moon is full, I feel full of -- static. I itch. I crave speed and action and Really Wild Things -- I feel that if I could just catch the wind in the right way I could fly -- I feel full of electric POWER
with no way to do anything.

Sometimes Luigi takes me walking on the Bridge, and I pace and talk with no direction and sometimes I cry for the fact that I can't cross dimensions and meet my destiny. And then he takes me home and I might pace some more, cry some more; eventually the Wilding is gone and I am so very very tired, completely drained, wrung as a threadbare dishtowel. He puts me to bed, and I curl up with him in The Comfortable Position and maybe cry some more, as he strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. Finally I sleep, empty and hollow, resoundingly so. I wake the next day, and my eyes feel like I have been crying; hot and puffy and a little dry. But the day after is only a little gray around the edges, and I go on.

(weather: cloudy, been raining 70F 88.4% S 9.2mph
moon: waning 31.3% of full
mood: withdrawn.)

still cheating, yes.

2004-10-06T05:48:00.000-05:00

I am still posting just enough to stay in the blogring. Cheating? Probably. But I hate --hate-- being left out. So here I am.
I have a friend in the military in Iraq if anyone feels like writing email to people they don't know. Let me know if you want to and I'll send you his address.
um.
it's getting coldish in oklahoma, and I keep forgetting to take a jacket. but that's ok, for right now.
even though everyone else has done it, and is now tired of it ( i guess) I'll now try it too:
send me your questions! I reserve the right to ignore the ones that offend me or I just don't want to answer, but otherwise I will post the question and an answer as soon as I can... maybe this will cause me to post more often. so send me questions! ( i love to be the center of attention, can't you tell?...)
Oh. and as if anyone cared, for some reason Thursdays are the days I get the most views. Weird, huh?

trying to keep up

2004-10-01T06:21:00.000-05:00

oh, there are several things I would love to discuss here, but I don't have the time to do more than list them today:

the things I want to tell you about...

bra sizes
weekend plans
religion
politics
magic
pansy plants
babies
fairy tales
future plans
emotions
poetry
potential.

and that's all I have for now.

Sorry.

ok, ok, ok...

2004-09-28T04:55:00.000-05:00

I am with QTKatie. I will post when I can, if I no longer meet the requirments for the blogring, I will resign my position with a minimum of grief.

Aside from that : "...the blogstapo wants to read more sleepwalker."
wants to, ladies and gentlemen. Check that out...

So.

I commented on FHB, but I don't officially know email (although I now think that if I was smart I would just check in the comments but anyway) I can't send the proof I have that it is "pushmi-pullyu" and I would use the Hello! program provided by blogger, but I can't make it work right now, and I can't get my tripod/lycos site to work with me either (hate them, hate them, hate them...) so I don't know what to tell you. If someone wants to volunteer to take the image and post it, let me know. I'm tired. Maybe I'll try again later.

But to the blogstapo: thanks. I think. I'll try to be entertaining tomorrow.

May it please the jury...

2004-09-21T04:51:00.000-05:00

I must begin with the defense of Ninsi's honor -- indeed, ladies and gentlemen, it was not her leopard print bikini underwear that was on sideways on the night in question. I am sure that whatever print or cut her underwear was that night, it remained properly oriented throughout the proceedings.

Now. On with the show:

It only takes me about 3.5 to 4 hours to make Draco's new digs from my home. This is with all the stopping for traffic lights (on the highway, no less!) and slowing down to go through small towns... I may take a different route next time, with similar results, I'm sure.
There was no spanking for Draco's festivities, probably only because few people had the brain cells functioning to remember or the motor skills to perform said feat. There was much stupidity, however. Mostly of the sitting-quietly-in-a-corner-contendedly-staring-at-the-crowd kind. There was a lot of that, and it was fueled in part by the Old Hippy Network that Draco has managed to fall into. May I say, Wow? Oh yes, I may, and I did. More than once. There was also much drinking. And eventually people filtered out, one by one and two by two, and then there were only five or six of us. And I had the itch in my hands to read cards. I had known this was going to happen, I had looked for my deck before we bailed out of Tulsa -- but they hid from me quite expertly, and remain hidden at this very moment. I ended up borrowing Draco's girlfriend's deck; it worked just fine. The cards were beautiful, if unfamilliar. And I discovered -again- that I don't read well for men, at all. I don't know why. It just doesn't flow as well. And then it was time for unconciousness.
We awoke to a room much brighter than we are accustomed to, and the smell of sausage cooking. We got up after a while, and came out to biscuits and gravy - quite good! And after a bit, we got directions from Draco & Girlfriend, and we went out into the sunshine.
We got a bit lost looking for the tattoo parlor they reccommended, but we weren't in a hurry, so it was ok. We found it, and the guy was good. Then we went across the street to that comforting familiar place, a QT, and discovered that the beer cases were locked. So we just went down the street a very small distance and went into the liquor store that was open. There we bought beer, and the hunt for food was on. We ended up eating at a place whose name is familliar, but I cannot now bring it to mind... we don't have them in Tulsa, anyway. But it was funny, in a way, because we ended up in a place that serves food just about exactly like where Dr. Nick works... the next stop was for lottery tickets, where we discovered that the debit card Luigi had in his wallet did not work. Lucky for us, Dr. Nick was funding this expedition, or we would have been in a sore spot of trouble. Or so we thought. Once we made it back home, we discovered that the functioning card was in my wallet. In my backpack. In the trunk.
Ha ha ha.
Oh well. Dr. Nick said he'd hook me up if he won... he will definetly have the room to spare some. the Jackpot was at about 95 million. That's right, 95 million. How 'bout them apples?
Of course, he still has to win it...
But i can dream. It gives me something to do at work.

Anyway. That's enough for now. We'll see how things are on Wed. or so.

weekend wackiness

2004-09-18T05:22:00.000-05:00

ok, so it has been unofficially voted that my timing sucks. Thank you, sir, may I have another?
Ok. Btw, knats, you spoke first about how the men were reacting, and then went to the forklift. I understood that it was supposed to be tounge-in-cheek, but my strange sense of humor prompts me to react to the truth in such statements, mostly because that is the best way to pull people's feet out from under them. They don't expect it, and if you can straight-face it, they just get more confused by the second. Honestly, this doesn't always work the way I want it to. I don't know where I got this habit (probably learned it to deal with assholes in school) and I'm not sure I can shake it. But now you know a stinky little secret of mine.

So: on with the weekendness!

In the later hours of what is officially today, I will be driving to KC with two of my favorite guys, Luigi and Dr. Nick. We are going to see Draco for his birthday stupidity, and I am sure that the stupidity will abound. I do plan to be incoherent at some point, and will probably wake up way too early and have to drive way too long after a work week that lasted an extra ten hours/full day. The things you do for fun when you are young...

Speaking of drunken stupidity when you are young: Ninsi, do you remember the shoopashoo story? "oh my goodness... oh my goodness... why is my underwear on sideways?!?" I still laugh... oh, the leopard print bikini underwear. God, what a night that was.

I'm going to go and have my shower now, and in about 1.5 or 2 hours, I am going to take the car for an oil change, and then, maybe, I will sleep...

and in honor of Draco, I leave you with these words:

Dirty deeds, done with sheep;
Dirty deeds, done with sheep;
Dirty deeds, and they're done with sheep...

bird brained, part 2

2004-09-16T05:06:00.000-05:00

and if the last one wasn't enough, here's more:

-----------------------------------------
Sparrow
2.

What is the death of a sparrow?
To most, it is nothing, a non-registering event that occurs without their knowledge or interaction. It is not a thing to think about, or worry over.
But sometimes the death of a sparrow is mor than that. Sometimes it impinges upon our reality in a manner that we cannot ignore. It touches something in us that we can't quite identify.
A sparrow is not food - it is much too small for humans to bother with, really. It is not (normally) a pet; there is no real emotional attatchment in either direction. It is not a predator - again, it is much too small and not near vicious enough.
So why do we feel bad when we watch one die? Why this sense of loss; why do we mourn a tiny bird that is neither friend nor food nor foe?
Perhaps because they are so small. Despite their size, they are full of life, of energy. They are a part of our world whether we are conciously aware of them or not. And maybe it is because to witness the death of something so small and yet so alive, so daring, is incredibly intimate. It is so small, a sparrow, yet the look in its gleaming eye connects with you in such a large way. You feel as though you should protect this tiny feathery life force, that it is daring you to do other wise.
There are so many sparrows in the world, and they seem so happy to stay out of our way and to catch the crumbs that we leave in our wake, as if there is no other purpose for us in their world.

bird brained

2004-09-16T04:48:00.000-05:00

ok, kids, you've been hanging around for long enough so I have some personal writing to share with you. ("Personal" as in "I wrote it my very own self." )
There are a couple of pieces in this bit, and I'll put them up one at a time.
Feel free to comment.

-------------------------------------
Sparrow
1.

One day, about an hour before lunch, someone found the little bird. It was a sparrow, not quite ready to fly away on its own. It was just in the floor, someone said, I almost ran over it.
We work in a factory: it is big, and noisy, with huge bay doors that trailers can back right up to. So it is no real wonder that we have a couple of birds in the building all the time. But we only see the adults, though we know there must be nests with chicks somewhere. But as with most urban wildlife, the resident sparrows go largely unnoticed.
At least, until that day. News of the foundling spread through the plant; by the time lunches were all done the bird had a box, a dish of water, a dish of assorted crumbs, and a makeshift nest. It seemed as though half of the plant had been by to see it, in its box on the table in the break area. For the next few hours, there was always at least one person looking in the box every few minutes. Then the supervisors declared "that is enough, now, really." And for almost an hour, the box went untouched.
And then it was break.
A small croud gathered in the break area, and heads shook, and smiles faded. The bird had died.
It was widely speculated and accepted that the bird had fallen from a nest built high, perhaps even in the rafters, that it had mortally wounded itself somehow in its trip from home to us. Such a fall would surely have caused more than survivable damage to the tiny creature.
The tone of the day changed, for certain, after news of its demise spread. People were more sedate. Heads wagged, tounges clucked, poor little thing became the phrase of the day.
I think that the majority of the workforce was much more gentle in spirit after that, more melancholy; as if we all realized, unanimously, that something wonderful had left our world.

one more thing...

2004-09-15T05:24:00.000-05:00

by the way, just in case you were wondering:

You're Lili St. Cyr!

What Classic Pin-Up Are You?
brought to you by Quizzilla

thinking

2004-09-15T05:11:00.000-05:00

I often have the urge to write, now, mostly in the blog; but I guess I should work with what I have.

Lists I need to make:

things I want to recieve as gifts
things I just want
things I want to do
words I like
people I miss
people I should call
places I want to go
books I should read
story ideas

um. what else?

things I should remember
letters I should write
art ideas
things I like about me
things I want to change; and how to change them
things I should just let go of, already...
things I should tell my mom when she calls

I guess that's it, for now. I'm sorry I don't have anything better to say.

but this does sort of satisfy my need for wordcraft, I think.

so.

frankenbike

2004-09-12T18:42:00.000-05:00

( I wrote this last week, and then forgot to post it... so here you go.)

so, a couple of months ago (has it been that long already?) we bought a bike for Luigi so he would have some mobility, because we have one car and it takes me to work which is about 30 miles away. Ok, 25.
Anyway.
I thought a bike was a great idea. I wanted one too.
So we bought the one that was sitting outside the neighbor's door since we moved in, because she was moving out.
Um. Just so you folks know, a bike should not be left outside in the weather for long periods of time.
Yeah.
So, essentially, I got a frame and tires. And the tires need air.
Well.
My brother, the amazing Dr. Nick, gave me his old bike. It just needed a little work.
I finally got around to doing that work yesterday (Friday) and thought "huh. all this needed was brake pads, and some tightening... I guess he just wanted a new bike."
Nope. I should have known that things are never that easy.
Anybody want to guess what I missed?
Anyone?
I'll just tell you -- it was missing a pedal.
And not just the pedal, the whole arm of the thing. As in there was nothing on that side of the gears, just the other end of the bolt that holds the whole thing together.
So I called him and said "what the hell. Am I just a tard? Is this thing at your place? Is it here and I just can't see it?"
And he said "You're a tard." And explained to me the whole story, which sounded familliar as soon as I heard it, but refused to voluntarily come to mind.
What to do?
Take the needed part off of the other bike. Duh.
We had to get the Hammer of Kneecapping after it, but it was nice outside, and I wanted very badly to ride with my Luigi. I haven't ridden a bike in years (and I mean more than 10) and I thought this sounded fabulous.
A bit of banging later, and the pedal arm was off of one and onto the other. Oh yeah, I love being a chick with glittery nail polish using tools! I just love it...
And a very short while later, we were off.
We rode around in the neighborhood behind the complex, found the park in the area, and I discovered that when I put the seat back on the bike I didn't tighten it enough. So it was uncomfortable, and now -- now, there is a part of my sitting-upon that is sore. I didn't realize that it could be sore. I've got bountiful padding -- bones most certainly should not be trying to poke through in that region. Bones should not even be thought about in that region.
However, the padding is obviously not distributed in a helpful manner for this difficulty.
This will not deter me. I still have tools. The seat has been readjusted, and tightened 'till it just about squeaked. I will ride again.
Just maybe not today.
Or tomorrow.
Definetly Monday, as it is a holiday, and I am not working. (Yay, for paid holidays!)
And someday, I will move the brakes, and the shifters, and the gears, to the other frame and tires -- and, of course, the other pedal arm. As I have three, and not four. And then, I will have a crossbreed bike. And as long as I remember to tighten the seat mount, and the pedal bolt, we will get along fine. Until I try to hop a curb and it tries to kill me.
But when that happens, I will tell you, and we will all laugh.
Until then...

Things I should have said at the time:

2004-09-10T07:33:00.000-05:00

No.

Yes.

No.

Egg.

No.

Why?

Happiness.

No.

I'm sorry.

Your opinion means nothing to me.

I love you.

Eat dirt.

No.

Thursday.

Yes.

(nothing)

You're a jerk.

Hello.

No.

I refuse to play your stupid little games.

Bite me.

Wait.

Liar.

I like you.

No.

(anything)

Why?

No, you didn't.

I don't know.

No.

Help me.

No.

Yes.

No.

very much like a train wreck, thank you.

2004-09-06T05:23:00.000-05:00

(warning! this is a long post. I got carried away.)

I couldn't look away. I couldn't stop reading. Even when I thought: surely, my eyes will begin to bleed if I look at one more entry; I simply could not look away.
And so, I must share the pain.
But I warn you, it will make you hate people who have children and insist on doing strange things in the process of naming said children.

You have been warned.

All I could think was: Oh, sweet shit. Over and over, that was the only thing escaping through the horrified immobility in my brain. Oh, sweet shit. (Thank you, Luigi, for the phrase.)

Sometime after I managed to wrench myself away from the carnage, I began to think about the problem these people were having. They wanted to name their children something interesting, or different, or (heaven defend us ) unique. The thing that creates the maddening, screaming irony is that these are probably the people who buy things advertised because everyone "needs" (wants/deserves/has) one. They are the cookie cutter masses, defined by the garbage media, up to their ears in consumer crap and hollow inside their designer shells. I believe they are subconsiously trying to save their children from the hell they (the parents) find they have created for themselves. I also believe that by tying such albatrosses around the necks of their children, they are consigning them to the exact hell they think they are trying to save them from.
Honestly, how many girls have you met in the last few years carrying around the moniker "McKenzie" in whatever incarnation her parents dreamed up for her? Or "Tyler"? I can think of at least 5 specific cases. And I don't know that many kids.
It is terrifying, my people. I flinch when I meet some poor child with a mangled name.

This thought has just occured to me: Names used to mean things; people were given names to define them, to give them attributes -- names used to be things of power, in one way or another. What happens to that attribute, that power, when the name is deliberately malformed? How could it possibly retain any of its former influence, when the substance is so tampered with? And I am not talking about simple linguistic evolution. I am talking about deliberate and forced mutation; and in ever increasing cases, parents are outright making shit up. I'm not wholly aginst this, mind you. I have met some truly interesting people with names that never existed before them. (I love the name Ijah. She is just as fabulous as you think she is, by the way.)
I am against: the syncophantic and emerging prevalence of the letters K, Y, and doubled Ns; phonetic spellings; product names; mismatching ethinic names and babies (in truly offensive manners, only. Noone who is Irish should be named "Omar".) Pretentious spellings of simple names; adding letters or syllables or (gods forbid) punctuation; giving boy's names to girls, and vice versa...
Oh, hell. Just go look at it for yourself. But rig some kind of electric shock, or set your computer to spontaneously combust, to save yourselves from the horror.

You have been warned.

Oh, great and powerful Phlome...

2004-09-04T01:41:00.000-05:00

Please do not remove me from the webring for the mere fact that I am mortal and thereby falliable; that and I simply have more things than time right now...

So, you folks had stuff to say about the last two posts. Right on. Unfortunately, just as I am sure you are getting into a groove of commenting on this blog, I am flinging my wrench of monkeyness into the works, bringing the conversation to a screaming halt.
In other words, this post probably won't be as interesting.

this week has come and gone, and it has had its moments.
I am frustrated and sad about something -- why is it that really really good people will end up losing their job before the jerk that nobody really likes and would be relieved to see hit the door? I am struggling with this right now. The cowboy coworker is still working, and Pretzel is not. What the hell. Pretzel deserves every word of praise I sing in his name, and I mean that. He is one of those few fine folks who works hard, is fun to be around, and always holds up his end of the stick.
The cowboy, however, is not.
There are so many things that I have witnessed, and heard, that I just don't get why he is still working there. I have been promised a team meeting next week, by the man himself (my boss) and so maybe I'll bite the bullet, take one for the team, and out him. I know that I am going to dishonor myself in the doing. And I feel bad, some times, because I know he needs this job. (But if he needs this job, shouldn't he act like it? If I hear him say "I don't care" one more time when it's something that applies to his job, I may scream...) I don't know. I probably won't say anything. Unless he says something first. And if he does, then I know I'll have the rest of the team on my side.
But I'm still not happy about it.

question:

2004-08-27T05:45:00.000-05:00

(and this is not a joke, this is an honest question.)

What whappens when a cemetery is full?

Honestly, what do the people who own the place do when all the plots are sold, and full?

Anyone who can give me a good answer gets... um, I don't know, I'll think of a prize.

free enterprise

2004-08-25T04:21:00.000-05:00

there was one day I was talking with my old boss (back when I was Utility and had the time/excuse to stand around and chat with him) and he brought up a point that I still think about.
Stay with me, I'm not sure how well I can express this thought set.

1) Assume that prostitution is legal.
2) Wouldn't this then open the way for a new set of small, woman-owned businesses -- since the woman would no longer need a pimp or any kind of go-between, other than advertising; and is now, in herself, a business?
3) Would this mean that a woman could then apply for a small-business loan, to set up said business?
4) Why shouldn't a woman be able to provide sexual services in exchange for money -- a woman's body is her own; shouldn't she be able to use it as she sees fit?

etc, etc, etc...

you get the point.

Think about this for a while.

Why is prostitution illegal?

Why should it not be legal?

Feel free to talk amongst yourselves. I'm sure I'll bring this up again.

save/continue?

2004-08-22T20:25:00.000-05:00

despite the apparent lack of interest from the public, I return, and I post. I know you people are out there, and you at least look in. So there -- you've been caught peeking, you might as well say hello.
Not that I am famous for commenting on other weblogs, mind you. I am reminded of a piece of wisdom that says : the things we dislike the most about other people are the things we see in ourselves.
Or something very similar.
This bit of information lives in the top of my mind, more often than I care to admit. And I find it to be true: the things that piss me off about other people the most are also things that I am ashamed to find in myself.
Mostly.
There are things that are exceptions to this rule, of course -- I don't spend free time stuffing firecrackers into the orifi of canines, and I don't make a habit of knocking over old ladies for their purses, that sort of thing.
But I'm not perfect.
Far from it.
But with this in mind, I do try to cut other people slack.
Sometimes it doesn't work.
Some people are just damn stupid.
Some are simply mean.
I try to leave these people to their own sad little existences as often as possible. I have enough crap to deal with in my own life. I don't need their bad mood or inability to perform simple tasks cluttering up my day. I do enough of that on my own.
So.
I suppose that the point of this particular waste of your time is: Give other people the benefit of the doubt. Give them a smile, see if they smile back. Be nice.
And leave me some comments.

poetry and rage

2004-08-20T22:44:00.000-05:00

Life is just a whim of several billion cells to be you for a while.
-- anonymous quote from someone else's blog.

but I like it.

"Loneliness is worse"
was once said by a friend.
I agreed, but now I find
it is inapplicable.

Being alone is not
the same as loneliness.

Solitude is solidity,
and my life stands on its own.

again, I like it.
this person is 17, I think, and I am already jealous of her life. But I am jealous of a great many people, so it loses intensity and meaning after a while.

But I have to tell you this story:
I used to be jealous of Brittany Spears, in a horrible way.
Now I just hate her.
when I heard that song she wrote about "she's so pretty, she's a star, but she cries cries cries all the time..." blah blah blah "then why do these tears come at night?"
when I heard that, my jealousy transformed into white hot seething rage of molten steel. I almost wrecked my car when I realized what those lyrics were.
because all I can think is :bitch, if it sucks so fucking bad to be the hottest thing since i don't know who and make more money than trump right now and have half of the male population drool over you and 95% of the teenageish female population idolize you then FUCKING QUIT.

I have to go now before I melt the computer with my mind.

I've been gone, but now I'm back -- and this post makes up for the absence.

2004-08-14T17:29:00.000-05:00

ok. I know it's been a while since I posted anything. But sometimes life is just like that.

Brian talked about the weather, recently. I can't believe he beat me to it, but that's what happens when you take time off...
He's right, you know. It is fucking August, and the temperature as I write this is 81 degrees. At 5:30 in the afternoon, in Oklahoma. It should be fucking 101 or so, with 95% humidity if we are lucky, resulting in a heat index of "furnace of hell" or some equally applicable tagline. But instead, it is just pleasantly warm. I think I may even take my easel outside and work on a few things.

--->tangent:
I think about taking the easel outside a lot. I like the idea of painting outside at night, under a streetlight. I'm not sure why I haven't yet. But someday I will.
/tangent

Sera talked about things that make (made) her cry.
I am going to admit, the first time I ever cried at a movie, I was watching... (deep breath, are you ready?) the first Pokemon movie.

I'll let you all laugh and clean your monitors for a moment.

Ready?

Now that you are done, allow me to explain myself.
I had been watching the cartoon in the mornings, mostly because it was on at the time I was getting up, and it was the beginning of the Poke-insanity, before it got totally out of control. So I had the whole background, from the first episode on. I had watched the evolution of the relationship between the characters of Ash and Pikachu. And in the end of the movie, when Ash gets caught in the crossfire and turned into stone, and Pikachu tries so very desperately -- and I mean with all of it's little honest self -- to shock him back into life, refusing to believe that it won't work -- oh, man, I just came undone.
I had never cried at a movie before - ever. But it had to happen sometime, I guess.

The one that got me most recently was Spiderman 2. (everyone has seen this, right? If not, you might want to skip to the next section.) It was that scene where he had gotten the train stopped. When he leaned forward, and the people reached out throught the broken windows and the hands gently held him, I started to tear up. When they crowd-surfed him back through the train, and laid him carefully on the floor, my eyes were brim-full. When they all stood there, silent, and watched him as he came to, and they spoke to him,saying don't worry, you belong to us, and the little kids gave him back his mask saying don't worry, we won't tell; I cried. When Doc Oc showed up and they stood in his way, saying you have to go through us to get him, I cried more.
I'm tearing up now, writing this.

The sense of community is vital to me. And to see Spiderman, who was almost without community, being claimed, cared for, and defended by these people; these people who are essentially the nameless faceless crowd, the ones he risks everything for, all the time;
to see them all acting together in the sake of rescuing the hero the paper vilifies, daily; to see them seeing him and accepting him as the young man, frail and human, instead of the masked superhero, who is ageless and without other identity;
oh, my friends, I wept. Shamelessly, and without inhibition. Luigi, being the wonderful and nearly perfect boyfriend that he is, had napkins ready for me, and just held my hand and petted my head when I leaned on him. He knows I leak, sometimes. And he lets me wipe my eyes (and sometimes my nose) on him, if I need to.

******************************************

ok. I think that perhaps that is enough of that.
on to something else.

Sera also talked about baby elephants. Baby elephants are some of the coolest things ever.

Did you know:

elephants live in matriarchal communities: the older females teach all the young ones what they need to know about life; they also drive out the males when they reach a certain age, for the protection of the rest of the herd.
elephants cry.
if they run across the bones of another elephant, they will drag them to a mud hole, and push them in -- they bury them, folks. Think about that one for a while.
elephants can make sounds so deep we can't hear them, but that can travel for miles. They can communicate this way. We don't know what they talk about, but we know they talk.
there are elephants that paint -- they choose the colors, and they hold the brush. And the art they make is better than some stuff I've seen sell.

ok. What next?
OH OH OH ! I can't believe I forgot to tell you!

Pretzel and Goat are getting MARRIED!!

Have I ever told you about how wonderful they are, separately or together? Have I ever told you the story about how they got together? No? get a drink of water, this might take a minute...

They both insisted (separately) that they would never get married -- Pretzel has been married/divorced, she was horrible to him. Goat has seen some hard times and love has not been kind to her either. So when they started hanging out together, we all thought that was great. Nothing serious, they said, we just like each other, think the other is cool. We just nodded, and smiled behind our hands.
Then they decided that they really liked each other, which resulted in those friend conversations with the rest of us about "I really like him/her; does he/she like me; I just don't want to do anything to screw this up;" etc, you all know what I'm talking about. (You've all been on both ends of this conversation, at least once. )
Then, oh my, they decided to date. Gasp. And again, we all just grinned and looked at each other. We all knew that they were falling for each other, completely, and that it was not only ok, it was great.
And then, they decided to move in together. They kept saying, it's nothing really serious, we can just live together, but we all knew how crazy they each were for the other.
When Luigi and I were driving back from Dallas, Goat called us, wanting to know when we would be in town. She said she had something to tell us -- the cat was fine, the apartment was fine , the computer was fine, she just had someting to tell us. We gave her our estimate, and when Luigi hung up, I said, "what's up?" And he said, "they're getting married. " (Have I mentioned how cool my guy is? If I can only get him to guess some lottery numbers like this...)
I said, "what?? " And he said, "that's what she wants to tell us." And I said, "how do you know?" And he said,"Betcha $10 I'm right."
He wanted to call her back and call her on it, but I convinced him to let her tell us in person.
And sure enough, that was it.
They sat on the floor of their apartment with us, glowing, grinning, totally in love, and for that minute, the whole world was set right.
If I was ever going to pick a moment that would prove the chaos theory, and fix everything that was wrong in the world; it would be the moment they looked at each other and they both knew, this is the other half of my heart, my soul, my life. this is the part of me that God made and then sent from me, to grow into another person. this is the person that will make everything, no matter how bad, terrifying or evil, something I can survive. this is the person that I love, above and beyond everything else in the world.
I can only smile, with my whole self, and wish desperately that the rest of us find something near to what they have.

Guilty

2004-08-10T06:09:00.000-05:00

Danger Cat is locked in the bathroom, because she decided to pee in the corner of the room we were in. Again. We don't know if she is protesting, or if she's just establishing her dominance and control of her domain, or if she's having a problem, or what her damn problem is.

So I feel like a bad cat momma, because she is crying and scratching and generally being pathetic. But we just can't have this behavior.

So she's stuck in the bathroom, which is where her food dish and water cup (yes, I said cup) live, as well as her litter box, and she does have toys in there. But it means that she is confined against her will, without access to our proximity at her whim.

But I still feel like a bad cat momma. And I guess that technically I am, because she was bad.
Why do people have to feel guilt so strongly?
Does it really serve some function in the evolutionary process, or is this just supposed to be part of what "separates man from beast" or some such?

Because I, for one, have had quite enough of it in my life to date to last the rest of what I plan to live. And then some.

Tra la, tra la

2004-08-09T13:40:00.000-05:00

Maybe today won't suck as much. It is possible that the world is not out to get me, but just because they are out to get you doesn't mean they are not after me, too. It seems as if everyone is experiencing technical difficulties lately; here's hoping we get our collective shit together, separately.

Deep breaths, everyone, and think good thoughts.

re: Blogger: kiss my ass

2004-08-08T23:03:00.000-05:00

ok, so after I send a note to Blogger support about the problem, I think, "well, I'll just go to the home page and try one more time."
Hey presto! it sends me to the Dashboard page.
So what the hell? Why all the run-around?
Maybe it's my computer.
Maybe it's them.
Either way, it's damn annoying.

In other news:
I just got links put up. If I missed you, comment and remind me, and I'll add you.
And be sure to go see Luigi!

I may someday put up a list of links that are not blogs. But don't expect this anytime soon.
It should be a clue that I gave up and went back to a default premade template. I get frustrated, and pissed off, and just have to do something that works.

I have this idea for an art show (provided, of course, that I 1) make enough relevant pieces to have said show and 2) talk Steve at Living Arts into letting me have a show ) that I would call "The Story of My Life" in which each piece would be an illustration of the recurring themes in my life. I could title them things like "The Story Of My Life: Love" and "The Story Of My Life: Learning" etc...
I think it would be cool. I've got several ideas, already, and a few sketch type things in progress.
So maybe in like 5 years, if I work hard, I could have the show.
And that, too, ladies and gentlemen, is the story of my life.

Blogger: kiss my ass

2004-08-08T22:20:00.000-05:00

for some reason, the only way I can post today is through the Blog this! button. Blogger has been giving me shit lately, not letting me in to the site, etc. I don't know if I have done something to piss Blogger off, or if this is a problem on their end, or if this is just more of the shit that is piling on top of me, endlessly. I don't understand why it will let me post like this, which requires me to sign in, and not let me sign in on the regular page.

On a much better note, Luigi has started his own blog!
He is knew to this, but he's feeling interested. Please visit him as well!

Back, post hiatus.

2004-08-07T18:59:00.000-05:00

ok. So we're home from Dallas, and have been for almost a week now. I've been having issues with logging in, and life does not always allow for computer time. The comments are now not working, despite my best efforts otherwise, and I can't get the counter back up right now. So the blog is still a bit gimpified, and someday, maybe, it will be what I want it to be. And maybe, someday, I will also be what I want to be. Just as soon as I figure out what that is.

Luigi is giving some serious thought to starting his own blog. So I think we will be working on that...
more, later.

IN DALLAS

2004-08-01T14:08:00.000-05:00

Here I am, in Dallas.
We made it, and we have had a good time.

Of course, we didn't get here until almost dawn on Saturday. But Ninsi still let us in. So we went to bed, and got up early (for us) the next day (or really saturday afternoon. But it really isn't tomorrow until after sleep, so...) and we went out. We went to 1st and ten for (breakfast) food, and I had the barbecue sandwich, which was good. Then we drove around in the amazing Dallas traffic, and I was oh-so-very glad that I was not the person driving. We went to "Condom Sense" because, how could I not go? It was interesting, to be short. Then we went to "Condoms to go" because it was near, and again, how could I not?

there is more, but really, I'm still here. So I'll fill you in later.

again, note.

2004-07-29T03:07:00.000-05:00

ok, so it's now looking like we will be able to make it to Dallas; however, we won't arrive until late at night/early in the morning. This is pretty much ok for our normal time table, but I am really pretty sure that the natives in Dallas won't really appreciate it.
Therefore, Ninsi needs to call me (even though she will end up talking to Luigi) so we can discuss how to work this if it is to work.

And Neko, thanks for the concern. It's better now.

And now, for something to laugh at.

Yesterday, Luigi had a really good shower, the kind that really relaxes you and makes you nice and sleepy. He said, "Man, I'm gonna sleep like a baby."
and I said, "Or like a rock. Or like a baby rock."
and he said, " Like a dead baby rock."
I laughed so hard.

Of course, now that it is in text, it looks evil and creepified; talking about dead baby rocks on the page makes me feel like I've done something almost unforgivable.

But I swear, it was insanely funny at the time.

So I'm off to bed now.
To sleep like... something. I don't want to think about it right now.

More later.

pbbbbbt.

2004-07-27T15:05:00.000-05:00

*NOTE*

I don't think that the trip to Dallas is going to materialize, now.
Because, life being what it is, we now have to send out more money than we have.
I'm sure you all know what that is like.

Thanks very much for the invitation and the enthusiasm.

Have a nice ... something.

I guess.

P.S.
If I don't post for a while, the blogstapo can kiss my ass. If I don't feel like it, you can't make me and you probably won't want to hear about it anyway.

Leif, in my drinking this weekend, I'll drink a margarita to you.

did you get that email, btw?

Anyway.
Yeah.
I hope that everyone else has a better time than me.
See ya.

2004-07-25T01:54:00.000-05:00

And here is a picture of Danger Cat in the box of crackers that has its own funny story.

2004-07-25T01:52:00.000-05:00

And these are Sara's feet. I tried twice to get good pics of her feet, but I kept cutting something out of the photo. argh.

2004-07-25T01:51:00.000-05:00

these are Lady W's feet. she and her friend Sara came over tonight and we talked and played in my art supplies and they drew on each other's feet.

stream of conciousness

2004-07-23T04:55:00.000-05:00

I stole this off of someone else's blog. but it is very good, so share nice.

by Li-Young Lee
Persimmons
In sixth grade Mrs. Walker
slapped the back of my head
and made me stand in the corner
for not knowing the difference
between persimmon and precision.
How to choose

persimmons. This is precision.
Ripe ones are soft and brown-spotted.
Sniff the bottoms. The sweet onewill be fragrant. How to eat:
put the knife away, lay down the newspaper.
Peel the skin tenderly, not to tear the meat.
Chew on the skin, suck it,and swallow. Now, eat
the meat of the fruit,
so sweet
all of it, to the heart.

Donna undresses, her stomach is white.
In the yard, dewy and shivering
with crickets, we lie naked,
face-up, face-down,
I teach her Chinese. Crickets: chiu chiu. Dew: I've forgotten.
Naked: I've forgotten.
Ni, wo: you me.
I part her legs,
remember to tell her
she is beautiful as the moon.

Other words
that got me into trouble were
fight and fright, wren and yarn.
Fight was what I did when I was frightened,
fright was what I felt when I was fighting.
Wrens are small, plain birds,
yarn is what one knits with.
Wrens are soft as yarn.
My mother made birds out of yarn.
I loved to watch her tie the stuff;
a bird, a rabbit, a wee man.

Mrs. Walker brought a persimmon to class
and cut it up
so everyone could taste
a Chinese apple. Knowing
it wasn't ripe or sweet, I didn't eat
but watched the other faces.

My mother said every persimmon has a sun
inside, something golden, glowing,warm as my face.
Once, in the cellar, I found two wrapped in newspaper
forgotten and not yet ripe.
I took them and set them both on my bedroom windowsill,
where each morning a cardinal
sang. The sun, the sun.

Finally understanding
he was going blind,
my father would stay up all one night
waiting for a song, a ghost.
I gave him the persimmons, swelled, heavy as sadness,
and sweet as love.

This year, in the muddy lighting
of my parents' cellar, I rummage, lookingfor something I lost.
My father sits on the tired, wooden stairs,
black cane between his knees,
hand over hand, gripping the handle.
He's so happy that I've come home.
I ask how his eyes are, a stupid question.
All gone, he answers.
Under some blankets, I find three scrolls.
I sit beside him and untie
three paintings by my father:
Hibiscus leaf and a white flower.
Two cats preening.
Two persimmons, so full they want to drop from the cloth.
He raises both hands to touch the cloth,
asks, Which is this?
This is persimmons, Father.
Oh, the feel of the wolftail on the silk,
the strength, the tense
precision in the wrist.
I painted them hundreds of times
eyes closed. These I painted blind.
Some things never leave a person:
scent of the hair of one you love,
the texture of persimmons,
in your palm, the ripe weight.
-- Li-Young Lee

I really like this. I copy/pasted it, not sure i got the spacing quite right, may the artist forgive my barbaric transgressions.

Someone once told me that there is a (chinese?) poem that says something about: there is tea for two "and all my neighbors are barbarians"
I only remember the barbarians part, obviously.   but I like that too.

Every day I have things that I think I should write about, but by the time I get home, to the computer, and finish distracting myself from anything that might be constructive or worthwhile by enviously reading what everyone else has written, it's all gone.   So I guess I'm self-sabotaging, shooting myself in the knee for no other reason than- than what? I don't know. Fear? Of what? Critisism, maybe. Crazy ideas of being broke and insane because I gave in and gave my all to the musing siren of words on the page. Or maybe that's just my o'erweening pride, there.   Being a leo, I can be amazingly smug, even when I'm (what is the word I want? degrading? denigrating? where is my dictionary?) myself.
Gods above and below, what a strange creature I can be.   What a strange creature I am. Like no other, and yet so familiar you know me without knowing me.
Or do you?
Do I?
What was my point?

Oh yes.
I forget; that was my point.
Well, sportsfans, today I made a note; so I remember.

Things to bitch about from work: (note: workspeak is about to commence. please feel free to ask for definitions/clarifications in the comments.)
1) Ice machines.
we have three out on the floor. Two in the north break area, right by the lines, and one in the south, in the midst of finish.
Today, we had a line for the singular ice machine in the south break area.
The person in front of me told me that the other two were out.
When she had filled her jug, she headed back to the lines.
I looked at the catch tray beneath the dispensing chute, and gripped my mug very firmly as I viewed the heap of melting ice that threatened to overflow the tray.
What the fuck.
How can I put this into a linear thought pattern?
Quit pouring out your drinking containers, people. Just put more fucking ice in your fucking cup because you are drinking fucking water, you assholes. it isn't as though the ice in the machine is colder than the ice in your cup, you idiot fuckwads. this is why the other two ice machines are out, you empty headed over-paid screw monkeys.
Good lord.
It makes me want to throw things, or blow stuff up, or both.
These are the things that will finally shove me over the edge and result in my rebirth as a super villain.

2) "ROBSTOY"
there is a burgundy Miata (very new looking, too) in the parking lot.
The tags says : ROBSTOY
this makes me think: ROBISANASSHOLE
The plate frame says: God Loves You
This makes me think: "God loves you, but I'm his favorite"   is what Rob is saying with his new-looking burgundy Miata.

When I fall off the edge and go into super villain mode, I will start with ROBSTOY and the explosions will last for days.

Oh, yes, so many things will go up in flames.

But I will resist the call of the evil super genius in my soul.
For my kung fu is strong.

Or something.

3) the Plad Platypus
(I know that it is normally spelled "plaid". Wait for it.)
I'm not tremendously fashion conscious, but Plaid is passe, no? (stupid american keyboard. No accent ague.)
Why, then, O God, are so many of the manegement men wearing it?
We monkeys are convinced it is a plague, first carried by the Plad Platypus. (this is actually an insult to platypi. they are wonderful creatures. the Plad Platypus is not a wonderful creature.)
It has spread to my boss, and to several other radio-wearing males of medium importance.
We have watched the onset of the illness, and it is an illness, for it makes us all ill.
We find no answer to the disease other than the oh-so-overdue removal of the original carrier.
Unfortunately, the Plad Platypus remains in his position; how, we know not.
His stupidity and intolerable personality are apparently unnoticed by the management above him. Again, we know not how.
and now you are saying "yes, yes, but why Plad instead of Plaid? this is all we care about right now."
"Keep your shirt on, and let me read."
My Favorite Little Freak named him, and decided that the referencing phrase should be without the "i" to identify him uniquely. (does that sentence read well?     --    ok.) And at the company picnic, he brought the t-shirt he had made that said "Just say no to plad" so that everyone who was in on the joke/silent protest could have a good laugh together. There was a picture of him with his shirt in the newsletter the next week.   I saved a copy, just for that picture. It was good.

ok.

next.

Stories that I miss because I am going the wrong way:
1) Yesterday on the way home, I noticed that there was a person standing in the middle of the highway (169) on the other side of the dividing wall. Just standing there, looking in the direction of oncoming traffic. And there was oncoming traffic. Not lots of traffic, but it was coming towards him. And he just stood there. I didn't see a car broken down nearby, and he wasn't looking on the ground like he lost something.   I thought about exiting and going back to see if I could help him, if he needed a ride or if he knew where/who he was.
But I didn't.
So I guess now I will never know what that story is.

Ah, well.

2) Today there was fire on the way home. Again on the same highway, on the same side; I don't think that I have ever seen feral fire like that. I have only seen it safely caged, in a corral of wood; or domesticated, in the confines of the fireplace. ( I like the ideas in that word, fire place.)   I have also seen it huge and roaring, consuming buildings, but that is also a kind of urban animal.
This was small, and feeding on the grass on the side of the highway;
it was translucent, in shades of heat I've never seen;
it was free.
It was completely wild, newborn, and without knowledge of containment.

And I exited to call the fire department to come and put it out.

Does this make me a bad person? I did nothing about the man in the middle of the road, that noone else might have noticed until they tried very hard not to hit him. But I took the time to call about a small fire that I knew other people would have reported.   I did nothing to try to protect the man in the road, and I took action to destroy that beautiful fire. (yeah, that last phrase makes me sound chock full o', doesn't it?) I feel very conflicted by this set of choices. I'm not sure what they say about me. I'm not sure I like the implications.

I suppose I should have my shower and go to sleep, especially now that Luigi can cuddle again. I just don't sleep right anymore unless we are nestled together in the "comfortable postion".

I hope you have enjoyed my stream of conciousness post; it was unintentional, but it was fun.
Perhaps I will do it again.

we will see.

Thank you for your support.

alphabet stuff.

2004-07-21T05:36:00.000-05:00

Stolen from Neko, who stole it from Non-Girlfriend.

A ct your age?: I don't know. How am I supposed to know? I guess so, since I just act like me.
B orn on what day of the week?: um. No clue.
C hore you hate?: Not terribly fond of dishes. Cat box, believe it or not, is kind of ok. But that's because there's only one, and she's small.
D ad's name?: hah. this is a story all by its self.
E ssential makeup item?: black mascara, really the only thing I wear IF I wear it.
F avorite actor(s)?: kevin spacey, johnny depp, Edward Norton, um, Ewan McGregor (I think that's him) Cary Elwes, Mel Brooks, Mandy Patinkin, and more later.
G old or silver?: depends. what's with it?
H ometown?: Tulsa
I nstruments you play?: I don't play anything anymore. I used to play the flute to a minimum degree of proficiency; took the obligitory piano lessons for a while; I like the idea of the clarinet and I own one. but that' s about it.
K ids?: not the momma!
L iving arrangements?: great apartment with just me, Luigi, Danger Cat and all my stuff.
M um's name?: Sheila.
N eed?: money. and less stuff. I guess I could sell some of my stuff and get more money. I'd rather just have money.
O vernight hospital stays?: nope.
P hobias?: falling! and, um, something that is not revealing itself right now. You'd think I'd remember things like this.
Q uote(s) you like?: "It ain't ignorance that causes all the trouble in the world. It's the things folks know that ain't so." -- Mark Twain (courtesy of Uncle) and "Time flows like water; Memories are like snow" -- me. (shameless self promotion.)
R eligious affiliation?: inbetween devotions as of now. also known as a crisis of faith.
S iblings: Four that I am actually related to. If you count all the friends of the family that have been around long enough to be family, then it grows to like thirty. Or more.
T ime you wake up?: about 1:30 P.M. (hence, the sleepwalking title.)
U nique talent?: unique? nothing is truly uniqe in this world. and I'm not feeling very talented right now. Ask again later.
V egetable you refuse to eat? BLACK EYED PEAS. I will eat almost (I said almost) anything but fucking black eyed peas.
W orst habit?: forgetting.
X -rays you've had?: only dental. do those count?
Y ummy food you make?: I make a pretty tasty lemon cake, even if it is someone else's recipie. But it is damn good.
Z oo animal you like?: I like meerkats.

WTF? I just noticed that there's nothing for J.
So.

J ust wondering? maybe.

there.

Pooh.

2004-07-15T05:45:00.000-05:00

I think Gmail sucks. It takes forever for mail to arrive, as compared to the instant reaction of Yahoo. So I guess I'll stick with Yahoo.

I know the blog look still has issues. I'm working on it, you will just have to cope.

I am up way too late, as is usual.

I have decided. I am going to Dallas for my birthday. It had better not suck. (No offence meant, folks. I'm just in a bitchy mood, and have now tried to spell "mood" three times as "mook". What the hell is "mook" supposed to be?)

I am stressed.

I am tired. Phyisically, emotionally, and of the job.

Hey, Leif. Do you need a personal assistant, or a Journalism major? One is me, one is not. Guess which is which. Although I suppose they could be the same person...

I *need* to get Danger Cat FIXED. She yells horrendously, and it makes me lose my cool. I try not to be evil to her, but when I realized that you can hear her outside, if you are anywhere near the windows or door (which is incredibly easy) I was decided.
So I'll add that to the list.

Traffic sucked on the way to work.
I put a hole in Luigi's favorite jeans.
I had to work the crappiest parts of the line, both in one day.
I don't get paid enough. (Who does? You either get paid too little, or way too much. Guess where I am in that scale.)
I would so be a super villain if I had some goons, or flunkies, or even well trained turtles...
Pretzel is moving to a different shift/line.
I don't have a whole lot of vacation available right now, and being at work is nigh on intolerable. But I don't have enough points left to just call in. Besides, I need the damn money.
I have more clothes than I want to talk about, and too damn few I can wear to work or want to wear otherwise. (don't say anything, I don't want to hear it.)
My 10 year reunion is theoretically happening, somewhere, sometime.
I don't think that going will be as fun as I think it could be.
My shoes are all wet because some stupid upper-managment is going to tour the facility -- and that is the way they put it out there -- so we had to clean to a retarded degree. It's just going to be almost as dirty as if we cleaned like normal by the time he/they get there, and would he/they know the difference anyway? Really, now.
I can't communicate with my mom. Never could, really.
I'm still trying to cope with Uncle's death without shutting down completely.
I have a hard time relaxing enough to really enjoy my sisters.
I worry about my brother.
I'm not going to get enough sleep tonight/this morning.
I gave the game Tinker loaned to us to someone who works with him, and they gave it to someone else, so I have to go track it down because Tinker is on vacation this week.
I dream and plan bigger than just about anyone excepting Donald Trump. But I never have the resources/energy/inclination to carry anything out. Which is lucky for the world, when I am in my super villain mood.
I need to buy bags for the vacuum, because somehow my indoor cat got fleas.
I need to bathe said cat, again. This will be the third time.

I need to win the lottery. And a big one. I've got really good plans, and not really for stuff for me. And I feel like God owes me. If you had to listen to Danger Cat yowl you would agree.

And don't tell me that God doesn't owe me. I don't want to hear it.

Irritation

2004-07-14T13:46:00.000-05:00

I heard today that the republicans didn't get enough votes to pass the amendment banning gay marriage. I'm so glad. Honestly, now, what are they afraid of? That people might be happy? The idea that gay marriage will cause the "institution of marriage" to disintegrate is silly. What is the current divorce rate? It reads as a percentage, yes? Do you really think that the percentage will grow that much? And something else -- I betcha that gay couples don't produce multiple children that they didn't plan for and can't care for. Think about that one.

********

The other day on my way to work, I made the left turn to get onto the on ramp, and a red taurus, I think, got on behind me. We get up to speed, and I pass the blue truck in front of me, and I notice that the red taurus follows. I look again in a few moments, to see the red taurus swerve wildly, almost hitting the blue truck full in the side.
And I thought, "Are you on drugs?" Because it wasn't like the almost clipped the front of the truck with the rear of the car; no, no, they were still fully beside the truck. So you see the source of my irritation, confusion and amusement. They swerved a little more, a little while later, after they had gone past me. And of course, I didn't have the cell phone or I so would have called the police on their ass.

Rant

2004-07-13T05:41:00.000-05:00

Ok. here goes.

There's a kid in Ok. that is in jail for stabbing another kid on the bus in January, I think. He's 16, now; the D.A. is pushing for him to be under psychiatric care (and basically to be in jail) until he's 25.

25, folks.
That's 9 years of immersion in the prison culture, and in the psychiatric ward.
And then they will just turn him out into the world and expect him to function.

Hello? Is anyone thinking about this?

How is he supposed to be a functioning member of society after that? He *might* come out of this with a G.E.D. He *won't* have any work history, and he will have the jail time and the psychiatric care hanging over him; how is he supposed to get a job that will do him any good at all? How is he supposed to rejoin society -- or, in reality, join society to begin with, since he has been in the custody of the legal system since this happened? He should still be in school, just now getting into the swing of high school.

Now, I don't know why he stabbed the other boy. I haven't heard yet. And I'm not saying that he should not be punished for what he did. I'm just saying that this should be given more consideration. Because I guarantee that if the D.A. gets what he wants, then when this kid gets out it will take less than a year for him to be back in.

Villainous thoughts.

2004-07-12T05:42:00.000-05:00

I just read one of Leif's earliest posts. He was talking about a letter to the editor that he recieved, and how much it pissed him off. I agree with his sentiment, by the way. The writer talked about how women should stay in the home and be barefoot and pregnant, and that (somehow) this was all the fault of Jesus, no less. Leif didn't post the whole letter, just quoted it, and I'm glad he didn't post the whole thing as I don't need any extra reasons to get pissed off. I am normally very easy going, but I am also remarkably easy to thoroughly piss the fuck off, if you know what you are doing.

I found a button yesterday that sums it up rather well:
"You people are just lucky I'm so terrified of prison."

That's pretty close.
If it wasn't so much work, and if I didn't have so much life going on right now, I would so be a super villain.

What do you think?

2004-07-12T05:08:00.000-05:00

Do you like it? I did it all myself, except for the buttons and the counter and now I don't know why the buttons are screwy, but I'm not done yet.

I'm still working on the grief thing, too. I think about it in little pieces, usually when I go to bed and it is dark and Luigi is asleep before me. But it's ok, because all I have to do is poke him and say his name, and he comes awake really fast to comfort me. I love this about him. It's gotten me through many nights and nightmares. Luigi takes such good care of me; we've been through some rough times together.

******
I'm thinking of projects to do with the girls (this would be Lady, Goat, and maybe the Beautiful) -- the kind of thing you do in summer camp, etc. I have more art supplies than I care to admit most days, and I think it would be really fun to have kind of a grown-up art camp type thing, maybe on Friday or Saturday afternoons. I think this might run really well next year, as a public thing, maybe at the Living Arts space, or something. Anyway. So I'm trying to think of stuff to do; I'm thinking paper mache, rubber stamp things, various painting projects. If anyone has suggestions, I'm happy to hear them! What was your favorite art project as a kid?

******
this weekend was ok. They never are long enough.

*****
Ninsi, Phlome, what is up w/your sites? They don't come up for me. Is it me or you?

*****
There are so many things I want to say. But when I get here, they all vanish.
I want to write the profound things I think about Life, especially in Tulsa.

For instance: Luigi and I tried to go see a Midnight movie on Saturday. We went to almost every theatre in Tulsa, and none of them had midnight movies. WTF? On a Saturday? What the hell is going on? Is this somehow connected to curfew or something, or does noone show up for that time slot?

I should go to bed. It is getting really late for me.

Don't forget to leave me suggestions.

Thanks, folks.

Under Construction...

2004-07-11T05:05:00.000-05:00

Please ignore the big hairy guys with their buttcracks showing and the cement mixer parked in the front yard. I'm working on it.

unfortunate news.

2004-07-09T21:09:00.000-05:00

Uncle died yesterday. Mom is pretty broken up about it; this makes her the oldest local member of the family. Uncle was only 20 years older than her, so this is making her really think about the whole future and planning situation.

Dr. Nick and I are holding our own remembrance together with Luigi; margaritas and movies, etc. Some people might ask how this is different from any other weekend with Dr. Nick. Well, I'll tell you. Tonight, we are preoccupied. Tonight, we think about all the things that you think about when someone has died. So it's not the same as a normal weekend.

There were other things I wanted to say, but now I can't think of them.

So.

well.

2004-07-07T03:59:00.000-05:00

I have noticed that the strangest things will cause you folks to comment. Well, maybe not the strangest; maybe I meant the most common, the most ordinary, the things that I think don't need commenting on.
I mean, really, now;
I bought a WAFFLE MAKER, people. And noone has anything to say??
Sheesh. What causes enough interest for comments?
Hmm... that could be an interesting thing to study...

so. the fourth, we went to eat with Master Mike and Lady Whitney (who are now engaged!)and The God of Biscuits,etc... at Cheddar's. We talked and talked and talked in a way that we haven't in a long time. I think it has a lot to do with the fact that Lady Whit and I held our own conversation that was completely separate from the guys.
After that we all played Trivial Pursuit (the Beautiful Cari joined us after a while, still recovering from too much beer the night before) until about 1:30, when we got tired of being wrong all the damn time. Stupid game.
oh! Master Mike & Lady Whit moved into the neighborhood! now we have Pretzel & Goat across the street, essentially, and Master & Lady are down the road... and the God of Biscuits has moved into Tulsa, finally. So we no longer have to trek out to Collinsville when he hosts games. Huzzah!

I drank margaritas all weekend. I feel pretty good, considering. I think we probably make them kind of weak, and I probably drink them kind of slow, but I still like them more than I thought I would. So.

I am working on a new template, and I feel really smart because I have figured out how to make three columns, etc. When I found the button that almost does it by itself, I felt so damn smart. Now that I have written that sentence, I don't feel quite so smart. But I did it, dammit. Now I just have to decide how I want this to look/work...

I so had forgotten that today was Tuesday. Hot damn. I thought it was Monday...

Ok.
Somedays I really wish I could do a little self-therapy on this blog, but I really feel weird about it being public. And the fact that I know a few of you. And I guess that the real reasons are 1) I am completely Paranoid that SOMEHOW my mom/siblings will find this and read it and oh, mama, will the shit hit the fan. Because pretty much all my mental disfunctions are rooted in the family weirdness. And I hate conflict/confrontations, so I just sit on a lot of stuff. And I don't feel comfortable talking to many people about it. So I sit on it some more.

Yeah. I have issues.

Great big ones.

With horns.

They live in my head, and sometimes they make noise. So it gets really loud in there, what with voices and noisy issues and leftover music and stuff like that there.

So.
If I seem weird to you, or preoccupied for no good reason, there are reasons. I promise. And they are that I am weird, and preoccupied, sometimes for no good reason. So you are/would be right.

ok, enough of that. Now:

I am really looking forward to the idea of Dallas for the B-Day, which is now 21 days away! Wheee! I'm not sure that we will be able to afford to go, and I'm not sure who I want to talk to about coming with, and I'm not sure how many invaders Ninsi & Co. are willing to put up with... So in short, I'm not really sure. But I am excited... I think.

I guess that's enough stuff for now, as I still need a shower and food. And it's like 4:30 A.M.
Yeah.
Working on it...

WAFFLES!

2004-07-03T17:41:00.000-05:00

Last night, Luigi and I went to Sears and bought a blender with a spigot on the bottom of the pitcher (man, this is cool! No drippage, no wrestling with the full & heavy pitcher...) and a kick-ass coffee maker: this thing has no pot; it has a tank that holds like 12 cups of liquid, and a timer, and it dispense the coffee, folks. You put your mug under the tank and it presses the button and hey, presto! it pours coffe into your cup. I love this.
AND..
Luigi bought me a waffle maker.
I know, you probably think this is anti-climactic compared to the other items. But I HEART WAFFLES in a stupid way, and I've been wanting one for a long time. So today, we got up and I was going to make waffles, and Luigi was going to start the coffee maker; but we discovered that we needed a few things from the store to make all of this work properly. We needed oil for waffles, and vinegar to clean the coffee maker, so it was off to the Neighborhood Market since that is the closest store. Well, ok, Homeland is closer, but they are guaranteed more expensive 'cause they are/cater to a bunch of snooty bastards.
So, about $30 later, we come home from the NM and begin the cleaning of the coffee maker and the mixing of the waffle batter.
The cleaning is still going on, but the waffles turned out fabulous. I am surprised at how good the cheap pancake mix turned out to be. I am amazed, every once in a while, at exactly how good the no-name stuff can be.
So, now, the feasting is done, and soon we will have coffe, and later we will have margaritas of the frozen kind. We plan to invite Dr. Nick, and Tinker, and maybe even the Young'un (an associate of Luigi's that we like, but we're not really crazy about his friends) to come over for enchiladas and chips & queso and more frozen margaritas... I am so very glad that I don't have to work on Monday...

Rum and Monkey: The Name Generator Generator

2004-07-01T03:20:00.000-05:00

Rum and Monkey: The Name Generator Generator

My is Her Highness Hitomi Honey.
Take n00b Roleplaying Name Generator today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Name Generator Generator.

ooooh, yeah, I'm getting real mileage out of this today...

more random surfing

2004-06-30T23:49:00.000-05:00

Pacific Fertility Center
and this, ladies and gentlemen, is the kind of thing that I run across in my rare wanderings around the net... this, too, is brought to you by craig's list.

I love the Blog This! button...

Do you have a REALITY TELEVISION PROGRAM IDEA?

2004-06-30T23:15:00.000-05:00

Do you have a REALITY TELEVISION PROGRAM IDEA?

here you go, folks; the wonders of Craig's list are abundant and amazing. I plan to write in and tell them that my life should be a reality show. Or maybe not; it is possible that I don't want every nuance of my life scrutinized by the American public. Then again, maybe I could change the world, or help get Bush out of office, or at least make a lot of connections and money.

more than you may want to know.

2004-06-27T05:55:00.000-05:00

ok. so.

Those of you who don't know me - well, you don't know me, so let me start here.
I'm not really Christian in any definable sense. I used to define myself as Pagan, but a couple of years ago I had a complete failing of faith. Since then, I have had a very hard time of it in the faith/religion department.
I have to tell you that my mom was raised in a Catholic manner, and a lot of it still shows. Some of it we refer to in a half-joking manner as "Nun trauma"- if you saw some of her art you would totally understand. (she's incredibly good, and I don't say that because she's my mom at all.) Anyway. I learned the Lord's prayer as a child, but didn't learn the Hail Mary until teen years. My family likes those tall seven day candles, believes in the love of our ancestors, but never really went to church at all. We believe in things like empathy - as in recieving and reacting to other people's emotions. We believe in energy flows, and that they can be manipulated by such things as Reiki and Feng Shui. We like Tarot cards and rosaries, for entirely different reasons, and maybe a couple that are very similar. We believe in the messages in dreams and old wive's tales. We believe in ghosts and auras and guardian angels and omens. We believe in good and evil as active forces in the world, and we also believe that people have destinies and free will all at once.
A few people over the years have convinced me to attend once or twice; I've barely escaped baptism probably at least three times; I've been interested in building altars and rituals since a young age and honestly I don't see how modern spell casting is all that different from intense prayer, really. Aside from all the trappings, I mean. Candles and incense and whatnot.
Anyway.
So I find Leif's blog through someone else's links somehow, and I like the way he writes. Very much so. And through reading his old posts, I discover that he swears with the best of us, talks about sex drugs and rock and roll (and not in the derogatory manner, really) and - get this - he's a preacher.

Holy shit.

(No pun intended, really.)

I have studiously avoided church of any kind for a very long time now, had unpleasant experiences with religious types and generally sworn off the stuff.
But now there is Leif.
I'm not really sure how I feel about this.
I feel...
... totally off balance.
I try to feel the flow of my life and go with it, to fall into that current that sweeps us along so easily sometimes -- and I know that you all have experienced it, that you know what I am talking about.

I so don't want to sound like a freak. I'm not really sure how much of what I'm feeling is credible; I've been known to be horribly, horribly wrong. I've made some fantastic mistakes.

So how do I say that I feel like God is calling me without sounding like a nut?
Yeah, I didn't think I could either.

We will talk more about this later.

damn stupid yahoo mail...

2004-06-26T09:53:00.000-05:00

I don't know if anyone else has been having this problem, but it is not helping my insecurities or my persecution fears.

In a normal situation, the mail a person has not read is all together at the top of the page because it is recent and new.

My Yahoo mail has a personality - I go to check it, it tells me I have mail. But recently, it has not been all together at the top of the page, and it is not all new. As in I just checked my yahoo account today, after a few days as is my normal habit, and it tells me I have 13 new mails. fine. I like mail.

However, the new mail is scattered through the old mail, and some of it was dated things like 6/13, 6/18,6/23.

W.
T.
F.
*
Am I finding myself a victim of the privacy invasion act, also known as Patriot? Am I the victim of some truly bored hacker that is wasting his talent trying to look at the pseudo-porn that some forum keeps sending me because I am too lazy (or busy, depending on how you look at it) to unsubscribe from their list? Because these new mails aren't things that I had looked at and ignored for the time being. They are completely new to me, and I have checked my mail either on or in between the dates mentioned above. So what the hell is going on?
Maybe the forums have fucked up mail systems. But why would the mails be dated like that? Wouldn't they be dated as the day recieved? Isn't that supposed to be the miracle of e-mail, that shit gets sent and delivered on the same day? what the hell? When did the nice, dependable, solid world of electrons and pretty lights become as fucked up and unreliable as the world of physical reality?

*
I did have a different post all written out, but the computer decided that I didn't need that part, I guess. It was just suddenly gone. I was so pissed. I'm still kind of bent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~0~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uncle is in the hospital for a third time. He had been in the hospital from the second fall, and they recommended that he go into a nursing home. He agreed, but I can only imagine how much it hurt his pride. I can only imagine how he must have cursed his failing body and the system that won't help him die.
Why is it kindness to put down an old, beloved pet, and yet it is cruelty to help an ailing, aged, beloved relative die?

hey, check it out.

2004-06-24T05:27:00.000-05:00

I got linked to by someone I don't know at all. How cool is that?

There are now only 34 days before my birthday! My birthday is July 29, for those of you who don't want to bother with the math. I want to swim and drink frozen margaritas for my birthday, and I haven't gotten much further than that. I would like to try and go to Dallas to see Ninsi and meet Phlome and Zero. I'm not sure what else I want to do, and I don't have a whole lot of ideas as to what I want for my birthday, but if you ask, I'm sure I can come up with something. So.

If anyone has any ideas, I'm listening.

ok. that's all I can do for today.

um.

2004-06-22T05:38:00.000-05:00

Ok. one of these days, maybe, I will put a schedule together for myself and actually stick to it. as it is, I come home, peel off nasty dirty work clothes (sometimes more so than others, due to where in the system I am that day) and get in the shower. get out, eat dinner that Luigi has prepared, watch some tv, then surf. I try to limit my computer time after work to just blogs, but that can take a couple of hours easily by itself. I think it might be easier if I had access at work, or at least had time to access the internet. But I don't. (And this is one of the things that I am jealous about: you office type people get computer time during your day. You also have air-conditioned office type jobs of the desk variety. How I envy you most of the time.)
Therefore, anything I want to do on the box is after shower/before sleep. And depending on my schedule for the week, this sometimes is not much time. For example: today, again, I am up past my bed time. but Luigi is asleep, Dr. Nick has left, and noone else I know is awake to talk at this hour, as if I really wanted to spend time on the phone.

So.
Things to talk about tomorrow:
1) the Rider story.
umm...
2) my book/story ideas
3) "Fiona, my storm-colored car" poem
4) Birthday plans/desires
5) company picnic
6) the "tool" story
surely i can write something about one of these things tomorrow.
any requests?

by the way

2004-06-21T05:24:00.000-05:00

The Princess Bride is one of the greatest movies ever. If you don't agree, I have some suggestions for you.
But what is it, exactly, that makes it so wonderful?
The costumes are fabulous. The sets are beautiful, even if some of it is obviously fake. The music, though extremely simple and synthesized, works so well. I can only guess that it is the whole experience, the sum of the parts.
btw, has any one ever noticed that Buttercup's hair changes through the movie? Watch, it's kind of interesting.

btw, I signed up for Gmail if anyone still needs an invite.

btw, I suck; I missed Ninsi's mail about lunch by hours and hours.

btw, my cat's name is Bella Speck; my brother, Dr. Nick, calls her Danger Cat; we sometimes call her Ninja Girl because she does that window ninja thing; other wise we just call her Meow-Meow; she is incredibly smart and a stinker. She prefers Meow mix. She prefers to drink from a mug or a cup, not a bowl. She loves to chase small flying things, but when faced with a medium sized moth, she's not really sure what to do. We spend money on official cat type toys; however, she prefers the rings off of milk jugs and a tiny plastic mouse figurine out of a quarter machine. She loves catnip tied up in a bandanna.

btw, did you know that there is no cent sign on a keyboard? does it not exist anymore?

btw, Scooter/(Rider) had a nickname, but for some reason didn't tell me about it until recently: he is sometimes known as Tinker/ Tinkerman. So.

btw, I plan to put up a list on the sidebar sometime soon so that you know who is who in my postings. As soon as I figure it out.

btw, I don't think I like this abbreviation, but it is easier than typing the whole thing. I suppose.

someday I may tell you things about me. more important things than what I think about politics or the weather or movies or books or music or the media or the war or food or wine or anything. Things about me, and the way I work, the way I think, the way i feel... because I am a leo and therefore it is all about me.

btw, I miss having rice cakes and peanut butter as a snack. I miss the days when people thought I was just so damn weird because I ate rice cakes and salad and drank water instead of plastic fruit roll ups and twinkies and fake juice. it pisses me off to think that all those little bastards that gave me shit for what I liked are now all so damn hoity-toity about eating these things now. Assholes. Sorry little bastards. I hope their lives are empty and unfulfilling, just the way I figured they would be. Not that i truly care, you understand; I just want to be right about this in my own head. That's the only place it really matters, anyway.

I guess that's enough of that.

!@$^%^&$#@#%*&%$#!

2004-06-19T21:07:00.000-05:00

dammit, every time I try to niftify this thing it does something weird. I don't know why the comments thing is all @$#&*^-erd up, but it is. No, wait, the lettering is just white. Grr. I'll work on that later.

Aside from this, I think I like this template.
And the weather is nice today.
And maybe Ninsi will call me tomorrow.

But for now, I am going to go out and stomp around in the dark, I think.

summer

2004-06-19T03:50:00.000-05:00

I love summer.
I love warm weather, the way the air feels, the fact that I can swim in an outdoor pool;
I love the sound of the birds in the day, the insects at night;
I love the fresh fruit that is available: watermelon, peach, nectarine, cherry;
I love the thunderstorms, I love driving with the windows down;
I love the green trees and the grass;
I love bees and butterflies and toads in the garden;
I love barbecue and the smell of honeysuckle;
I love fireflies and the smell of warm concrete in the evening, just after the sun has gone down;
I love wearing sandals and shorts;
I love the rose garden in Woodward Park in the moonlight;
I love popsicles and rootbeer floats on the porch;
I love lying in the shade of a beautiful tree, where the grass is still warm;
I love playing in the park with friends until the sun goes down, and feeling the night breeze come up;
I love watching my favorite childhood movies while lying on the floor after I've been for a good swim;
I love the way streetlights look when seen through the filter of dense green leaves;
I love hearing one lone bird awake in the quietest part of the night;
I love the way the air smells after a gentle rain, and I love the way that rain sounds;
I love the visiting waterfowl, and turtles that sun on floating logs;
o, my friends, I love summer.

all things green, all things warm, gentle rain and furious storms;
fresh fruit, insect sounds, migratory birds;
silky breezes, satin water, sunsets that man can neither duplicate nor describe;
food and friends and lazy days;
sight, sound, smell, taste, feel;
there is nothing like summer.

girl talk, part 2

2004-06-17T04:33:00.000-05:00

bunny said: I wanted to post on the last one, basically affirming your stance and wondering why menstruation holds such weird taboo power. Men are squeamish about these things. Why?

ninsi said: i have a few ideas:
1) "never trust anything that bleeds for 7 days and doesn't die"
2) they don't understand, and therefore fear it
3) we bitch about it so much, they've associated negatively with it
4) historically perhaps even historically, it's been taboo
5) most people consider stuff that comes out of ones nether regions gross + most people consider blood gross = menstration = supergross

ok. here's my thoughts on her points, and she's got some good ones.

1) Do NOT ever say this to my face. It will piss me of somethin' fierce, and I won't be able to be civil to you for quite some time. This is such a piece of bullshit that it almost makes me completely inarticulate, even now. I think that it is a cover for the reality, which starts with the next point.
2) I think this is more like a real answer. But I still think it's kind of a cop out.
Fellas. This is not that scary. Just ask your girl about it, have an adult conversation. If it freaks you out to talk to your partner, ask a female friend. Ask me, I'll be straight with you. Think about it this way: if she's on her period, she's not pregnant.
3) We do bitch about it. And we do tend to do it a lot. But there are a couple of reasons for that. It it a shift in hormones, fellas, and it happens to you too, just not as dramatically. And it is uncomfortable. It does make things hurt, and our clothes tend to not fit right. But almost always we would rather go through this than be pregnant. Almost.
4)It has been taboo for just about forever. But that doesn't mean it has to continue to be. It also used to be taboo for women to show their ankles, or wear their hair down before/after they were married. Think about it.
5)ok. I can give on this one. HOWEVER, I still think that this attitude is prudish and artificial; I think that girls that act all squeamish and freaked out by this subject are just putting on an act that they think is neccessary. I find this a juvenile attitude/behavior. I also think it shows a distinct gap in education, or perhaps intelligence.

There was something I was going to post about today, but I got distracted by this thought line. If I think of it later, I will write it down so I can tell you about it ...

ok, fine.

2004-06-16T03:19:00.000-05:00

so you don't have anything to say about the last post. that's ok, I can't expect you to happily twitter away about whatever I put up. But you all know I'm right... and as confirmation, the world has just supplied a commercial for pads with quieter wraps. sigh. Just remember I talked about it first.

SO what would you like to read about?
There are so many things I can't post about, and of course those are always the most interesting things...

how about this. I was listening to NPR on the way to work today, as usual, and Fresh Aire was interviewing this man named David Sedaris (here is how to hear it) and he said something really interesting. He was talking about how you never know what tomorrow will bring, that you never know what will grab your attention, what you will become obsessed with. He said that you can't conceive of what will interest you tomorrow, or the day after. This is true; now if it was just that every day you could run across something that would affect you in this way then we would really be moving.

girl talk

2004-06-15T05:34:00.000-05:00

watch out, guys. girl talk.

I love talking with the Goat. She is so cool, kind of punk rock feminism hiding out in the quiet urban world, waiting to "disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed". (that's what the sticker on the dash of Soda says. Soda is her car.)
Any way. She and I have these conversations sometimes about the world, and what it is to be a girl in it. I haven't yet discussed this topic with her, but I'm sure it will come up soon.

So.
Why is it that we, as women, feel it necessary to sneak around as much as possible to try and hide the fact that we are having our periods? Now, I'm not talking about standing up and announcing "I'm gonna go change my pad/tampon now" while waving your various neccessary articles. I agree with the little black bag theory, I have one myself, but I find myself trying to hide even that sometimes. I have decided that this is an unneccesary action. A discreet action is fine, but trying to act like it's not what is happening is ridiculous. I should not feel embarrased that this is happening, or that other people are seeing me leave my work station to go deal with this part of my life. In turn, they should not be embarrassed about seeing me go. This really should be a non-issue, not a source of stress for anyone. It simply is a thing that is, kind of the way that men adjust themselves simply is a thing that is. Every one is probably aware of the action, but it is not mentioned at any time. It simply is.

I am incredibly lucky in the fact that I have Luigi, who is interested in knowing what is happening to me and how it works and affects me. He usually is more aware of my timing than I am, and tends to be at least two steps ahead of me, prepared for my outrageous behaviour before I get there. And he is always understanding and patient when I am my most girly and pathetic. But he doesn't hold it over me, as if it were a true failing of mine instead of a side effect.

Ok. That's my commenting for the day...
I'll think of something less... exciting... for tommorrow.

What the hell?

2004-06-12T05:00:00.000-05:00

Raisin smuggling? Smuggling raisins?? what are you talking about?

too much is going on. And it is hard for me to get to the computer to fill you in on a more regular basis. But I am trying, bear with me.

So:

1) Uncle is in the hospital. He's the only elder I have left, really, but he's 83, and I think that he's ready to be done, now. He's old, and tired, and lived a full life. He has been independent for so long, and now he is almost completely dependent on other people, for almost anything. It hurts his pride, tremendously, and all we can do is just wait for him to die. It is moments like this that I really wish, honestly, that there was some way to help him go. I'll probably catch a lot of shit for this, but I don't give a hairy damn. At this point it is a waste of effort and resources keeping him here, and I know he agrees with me, so don't look at me like that. But because the religious groups are the controlling power, there is nothing we can do but wait. And I hate to see him just deteriorate like this.

If I can think more coherently about this, I may write later.
And by the way, don't comment if you are just going to say nasty things to me about my feelings on the situation. No, wait. Go ahead and post nasty things. It will just give me something to really scream about later. You have been warned.

next:
2) Space Ghost is on tv right now! NOT Space Ghost Coast to Coast, but the old school cartoon, the real thing! wow... (1966, I never would have guessed...) I always loved this cartoon, and frankly it kind of pisses me off that there are people who think that the C2C is the only way Space Ghost has been or will be.

3) the rent fiasco.
Due to another long story I don't feel like typing, someone from the office at Dr. Nick's apt. came by on Wed. (or was it thurs?) Just walked in, just as Scooter (Rider, from before. another story. I know.) reached to open the door. This lady said oh, we didn't know anyone was still here. Scooter said yes, Dr. Nick still lives here, and I just moved in because the other guy finally left. The lady said oh, well, we had this apt. noted as a possible skip.
When Scooter relayed this info to me on Thurs at work, I just about came unglued. I had paid the rent on the 3rd, and I know they got it processed immediately (and I mean the same damn day) because I got an overdraft fee for it because my paycheck didn't arrive until the next day, and I was like $10 short for his rent. So you see why I was spoiling for a fight, wanting a head on a stick like a tiki torch in my front yard...
So today (fri) we get up early, leave by 9 A.M. to go to the bank and get a copy of the processed check to prove to these damn fools that I paid them and that they took it. We leave the bank, call the guys to tell them we're on our way, and we make the apt office by 10, I think.
I don't like the people in his office. Bunch of empty headed disorganized egg-faced nimrod women. The four of us walk in, each one of us ready and willing to verbally throw down with these paper pushing moron office monkeys. I take that back, it's an insult to monkeys. Anyway, I think that our collective mood was easily detected, and it didn't take a lot of work to get the situation sorted out. They decided that yes, the rent was paid, and on time, and that they were just confused as to which apartment they were supposed to be looking at. so the guys settled a little bit of further business with them, and we went on to breakfast. We went to Jimmy's Egg; I highly reccomend it. Fabulous food, great prices.
Oh, and the lady at the bank was fabulous also, super kudos to her. She was very helpful and friendly AND she refunded the overdraft fees that resulted from the rent check going through that day. She rocked, and we told her so. Go bank girl.

4) the sparrow at work.
I'll tell you this story later, there is already plenty for today.

5) The Jungle Book: the book vs Disney's animated character assasination - I mean, movie.
I won't start on that today. I'll save that for a day when I have nothing else to write about and feel like getting all wound up and pissed off.

PLUM SMUGGLERS

2004-06-09T23:41:00.000-05:00

what can I say about this phrase. Do any of you know what this phrase refers to?
Well, let me tell you.

Luigi was flipping channels and finds "Reno 911". Have any of you watched this yet?
Anyway, one of the characters (a female, the kind of square frumpy one) was talking about another character (who always wears shorts b/c he rides a bicycle) and she said something about "those plum smugglers of his" or something to that effect. I'm afraid I'm not perfectly clear on the quote as my brain fell out of gear at the words "plum smugglers".
Just thought I'd share that with everyone.

point and click psychology

2004-06-09T23:23:00.000-05:00

You have a great need for other people to like and admire you.

You have a great deal of unused capacity which you have not turned to your advantage.

Disciplined and self-controlled outside, you tend to be worrisome and insecure inside.

You prefer a certain amount of change and variety and become dissatisfied when hemmed in by restrictions and limitations.

You pride yourself as an independent thinker and do not accept others statements without satisfactory proof.

You have a tendency to be critical of yourself.

At times you have serious doubts as to whether you have made the right decision or done the right thing.

At times you are extroverted, sociable, while at other times you are introverted, wary, reserved.

While you have some personality weaknesses, you are generally able to compensate for them.

I agree with Neko that the last line is a bit disconcerting. "Personality weaknesses"? Why do they have to be weaknesses? Can't they just be personality details or facets or something?
Aside from that, does anyone else find it strange or odd or... something... that we all love these internet quizzes? We love to take these little tests, and let them tell us stuff about ourselves that we probably already knew, even if we don't think about it very often. I'm not sure exactly what that means, but I'm sure it means something.

Hello, boyos

2004-06-07T05:34:00.000-05:00

Did you miss me? Apparently not, from the lack of comment love... sigh.
Don't you even want to know what happened? Why I wasn't posting, just when I was getting on a roll?

Of course you do.

So I'll tell you:

Wed. afternoon, at about 2:30; a really good storm was blowing through. And I mean really good. The sky was almost black, the clouds were grey against it and moving so fast. The power kept flickering; going off for just long enough to be off and then coming back on, and then at about 2:45 or 3, just as we were getting to see on tv just what was going on (you know how you have to wait for the tv to get itself together after you turn it on) the power went out. Like completely off.
I thought seriously about not going to work.
But work, of course, says they are just under T-storm warning, come on in.
Bastards.
So I go to work.
I come home, thinking about a nice hot shower, and there is still no power. But there is still hot water in the tank, hurrah.
No power the next day, when I get up.
grr.
go to work.
come home, still no power. Go to brother's apt. for showering things. go home.
Get up next day and..... still no power. Luigi is SO not happy; misses sweet electronic nectar.
Do stuff. Go to bed.
Wake up at about 6, 6:30 thinking "crap. we left the closet light on." get up. Turn off misc. lights and tv, go back to bed.
Wake up later, revel in the sweet circulating conditioned air, and hear Luigi happily poking box, killing things and watching tv.
Think about how quiet it was with no power.
Think about how nice it was, in a way.
Think about how it brought to mind childhood memories of so many things.
Wonder if power returning was a good thing.
Wonder how fridge will smell after so long with no power.
Get up, pay electric bill.
Think some more about using it less.

This, of course, is the short version.
I may fill in with more detail later.

Definetly after sleep, however.

just another manic... umm, tuesday.

2004-06-02T05:10:00.000-05:00

yeah, another day in the world of the oven makers. just another day, sorry - didn't even get to talk to Fuzzy Buddy today, so no wild theories.
so, let me dig up one of my "remind me" topics... I need a place in the side bar to list these things...

Ok. So, I can tell you about the time Pretzel & Goat went swimming in the fountain, or my idea for grown up art camp.

Let's talk about fountain swimming.

IT was last year, I think, and we four (P&G, me & Luigi) went to the cajun music festival downtown. And the stage was set up in this area between the Adam's Mark hotel and one of the office buildings. the area is grassy, with nice landscaping = trees and a really cool fountain. The fountain is more like a little stream that connects a small upper pool and runs under a pathway and into a large, shallow pool and down a stepped wall to make a little waterfall and into another pool. (I'll try to remember to take photos some day...) anyway, it was hot. so we were sitting on the edge of the large shallow pool, paddling our feet... and Goat started it. She kicked water on Pretzel (which is totally expected, if you have met her) and it was on. they were splashing and wrestling, and ended up totally soaked... and they swam in the pool and discovered that the connecting stream is wide and deep enough that you can go from pool to pool, under the path...
Needless to say, the kids in the crowd thought this was a great idea. And so there were all kinds of people in the water, dancing and splashing and having a great time, thank you very much.
And then there was this guy (I will call him Spoilsport) who started telling everyone that they shouldn't be in the water, that it had some chemical in it that was bad for you or something... just basically living up to his nickname. We ignored him. And then when we walked back to the car, we discovered that the shoes Luigi had left in the church parking lot we walked thru on our way to the music festival were still there. And so there were many jokes about his shoes being so bad that even homebums wouldn't take them...

That was a very good day.

wisdom from South Park

2004-06-01T02:25:00.000-05:00

I never thought I would find such a pertinent and poignant piece of wisdom in a cable show... much less South Park. I guess I underestimated the show.
And what was this gem, you ask?
Well, I'll tell you...
(and not in song.)
It goes like this, in short form.
1. Wendy dumps Stan.
2. Stan acts depressed in classic movie form (walks in rain, doesn't talk, weeps quietly under street light, etc.)
3. Stan joins goths. Acts depressed in classic goth form (dresses in black, smokes, writes bleeding darkness emptied soul poetry, etc.)
4. Butters falls in love with girl from Raisins (which is a sick joke by itself, may rant on this later)
5. Butters gets dumped by girl from Raisins.
6. Butters acts depressed in classic movie form (see above.)
7. Stan and goth crew come across Butters weeping under streetlight in the rain.

And they have a conversation.

Stan (et al) ask Butters about how he feels (how bad does it suck, how empty is his soul, how far is the light, etc. etc.)
And Butters tells them that yeah, it hurts a lot.
But that it's not the end of the world. He explains that somehow the extreme depth of his pain makes him feel more alive, because of the intensity of the feeling. That he knows that he can feel this bad because he has felt so good before.

Wow.
I had thought about this before. But it had never ever occured to me that South Park, of all situations, would explore this concept.

I am glad to be reminded, though. Even if it was South Park.

interesing

2004-05-30T20:50:00.000-05:00

S	Saintly
H	Humorous
A	Awkward
D	Dreamy
O	Odd
W	Weird
C	Creative
A	Altruistic
L	Lazy
L	Luxurious

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

S	Skillful
L	Luscious
E	Explosive
E	Energetic
P	Perverse
W	Wicked
A	Amorous
L	Luscious
K	Keen
E	Excellent
R	Relaxed

Name Acronym Generator
From Go-Quiz.com

GRRR.... RRRAHHRRR....

2004-05-29T02:41:00.000-05:00

DAMMIT.
this should not be this hard. I have Microsoft front page and Dreamweaver and I can't get a template that will work. Am I just seriously missing something??? I guess I just need to get a book on html and learn the stuff.
damn. Just when you think a thing might be easy...

crappy pre-holiday funk

2004-05-27T04:58:00.000-05:00

love = comments!

thanks to Ninsi for her vigilance! It makes me feel loved.... mmmmm....

love also= cold beer brought to you after a bad day at work.

love also = time uninterrupted at the computer -- at any time.

love also = "you are so beautiful" no matter what I look like, any time of day...
but these are examples of love from Luigi, the wonderful boyfriend.

there is so much more love, in different directions.

anyway. Work sucks.
have you ever noticed that there is a community feeling that goes around? Like when a bad mood runs through the whole office/plant/whatever? The same goes for a really good mood, etc. I know that emotions are infectious, but this runs more toward what Bunny found, the cryptomnesia idea; the community conciousness that Jung talked about.

There have been interesting discussions about this concept and fascinating studies done. I like this concept that we as a species share an awareness; I also like the idea that thought is an energy and we can think things into happening. I find this a good way to introduceFuzzy Buddie's tornado theory: tornadoes occur because of an imbalance in nature caused by the bad mental health of humans. And because this mental illness (don't laugh yet) is concentrated and perpetuated in the communities of trailer parks, the tornadoes are drawn to them, to correct the imbalance caused by the bad mental/emotional energy centerd there.
Fuzzy Buddy is very strange.

note

2004-05-24T06:05:00.000-05:00

since I have just changed the template, things are weird. I am still learning how to drive this. There are no comments right now - the email link works but brings up outlook, I believe. feel free to use this if you like until I get haloscan or something.

advice is appreciated.

thank you.

no nifty title

2004-05-24T02:10:00.000-05:00

ok. here we go, another multiple-day post.

Speck is in heat again, oh boy. We have GOT to get her fixed, she has the most terrible yowl: she sounds like she's drowning, or in pain, or something. I know she's really ok, but it's horrible and distracting and damn annoying.

Congratulations to Jess and the Rev on the boy fish!! Here's hoping the ultrasound comes out to be correct!

this was a long weekend; it ran like this:

Thurs.nite/Fri.morning to Sunday nite/Mon.morning
I left work, and ended up not sleeping so I could take the car to be serviced(this was supposed to be an oil change and tire rotation, around $35. ended up being like $65. Bastards.) and that was at around 10 AM. then Luigi and I went to get Dr. Nick's house key to house sit for a while -- but about 10 minutes after we got there, he called and said never mind, so we left. But we took his key with us, and so he called at about 9, when he got home. I was sleeping, but woke up when the phone rang. So we went to take him his key, and he ended up coming back with us. So we watched a movie called "Equilibrium" which kicked so much ass I can't tell you; JUST WATCH IT. REALLY. If you thought the stuff in the Matrix movies was cool at all, you *must* see this. and then we went outside so Dr. Nick could smoke, and there was a garter snake on the sidewalk. He picked it up to put it in the grass, and it wriggled like a nightcrawler. I picked it up, and it calmly wrapped itself around my fingers and wove in and out, and around my hand, and was perfectly calm and tame. I've never had one do that. It was so cool... I hung around outside for a while, just being with the snake. After a bit, I put it down on the walk, and it just sat there, looking at me. It only moved when I touched it again, and it went on down the walk to the grass in a leisurely way. So I went inside and then we watched... umm... I forget. Luigi is asleep, so I can't ask him...well, anyway, I'll tell you tomorrow. but by that time , it was late, so we went to bed. Dr. Nick woke me up to take him to work at 10:45, and then I was up. Luigi and I then decided we wanted to go swimming (yay! swimming!) but we had to go buy him swim trunks, since he has lost enough weight to make his shorts just slide off him (dammit) and that was a trip to Target, and then to Sears. And then we swam (yay!) and then I laid down on the floor to have a nap in the sunbeam coming in the window. Mmmm... and just as Luigi snuggled down with me, and I mean just as, The God of Biscuits and Other Good Things called to ask if Luigi was coming over already for the card flopping. So he was up and on the way pretty quick. I got up and dressed and took myself to the park again. Ahh, I love Woodward Park. I stayed there for about three hours, doodling and just lying in the grass, walking in the rose gardens, and watching fireflies. Fireflies are great, don't you agree? I can see how a field full of them would inspire tales of fairies and magic etc...
When I got home, I ate the last of the chicken alfredo that I had made on Friday, after we went through the car servicing adventure. (It was really good stuff. I was quite proud.) and then Luigi came home, and... again I've lost a couple of hours. we did something... anyway,we ended up lying on the living room floor, watching cartoons, and fell asleep. We woke up sometime into the morning and moved to the bedroom. I got up at about 10/10:30, and didn't get anything done. Not a bad thing, just hanging around... Dr. Nick called at about 2:30, i think, and we went to Don Pablos for lunch things with the Beautiful Cari. Afterward Dr. Nick helped me pack up some stuff from Jamestown (fish tank, My Little Ponies [I love these things] etc...) and I took him home. When I got home, Luigi was making dinner, and just as it was ready, The Princess Bride came on tv. It was wonderful. And then it rained, and that was good too.

and that is the short form of the weekend. It was good. Just plain good.

ducking the blogstapo

2004-05-21T05:09:00.000-05:00

ok, ok. I know it's been a few days. almost a week. whatever. things happen, you will just have to be patient...

ok. so the party was great, had a good time, it was soooo very good to have people over to enjoy themselves. The lack of furniture did not stop the festivities, since a lot of us have no problem with the floor, and some of us prefer to stand in most circumstances. It was great. Looking forward with excitement to the next time I can do it.

since it has been a while, and I forget things easily, i worte down some topics while at work.

so, let's pick one or two.

as of today, May the 21st, it is 70 days to my birthday! This means that it is also 800 days until I turn (dumdumdumdum...) 30!!! (oooooooh....) so weird. For the longest time, I never felt like I really was the age I was. But recently, I think that my perception and reality are merging. I finally feel like I am the age I am, that I recognize myself in the mirror for the first time in a long time, if not ever. That was such an interesting experience, to look in the mirror and feel that my face and voice finally matched, and that I was living in the right body. No, not living in the right body -- that I was settled in the right body. That my body finally fit the part that was me. Kind of like when you move, and you finally get the furniture settled into place: that *click* that happens when things are where they should be, for optimum function and comfort. Does this make sense?

******************************************************

I can't think of how to ask you if you've ever had this experience without first relating the tale, so here goes...

There's this guy I work with. (We'll call him Rider, until I can get a better nickname = He rides a motorcycle unless the weather is bad) Anyway, I talk to him a lot at work, think he's great, consider him a friend type person. And people who know me, know how I feel about people that gain that status. I'm a Loving Heart (yes, as a title -- ask me later & I'll tell you) and tender hearted to boot. So last night (yesterday morning, it was 6:00 A.M.) Luigi and I are watching the local news, and there is a report of a man who was riding a motorcycle and died when he tried to exit the highway too fast. It was Hw 75 (which is the one that goes right past work) and it happened at about 3:00 (which is right when he gets out). so you see my concern. there were a couple of things that made me pretty sure it wasn't him:
1. the guy died when his head hit the curb; no helmet. Rider *always* wears his helmet. But still, he could have decided this once to enjoy the wind in his hair, right? It only takes once, as they say...
2. the accident happened on Northbound 75, exiting to 56th st north. we work at 76th st north, he lives near Foyil (which is north of work) so he had no business being there. Again, however. I don't know everything about him or his life, there could easily have been a reason for him to have gone south to do something and have just been on his way home.
3. the guy laid the bike down because he was going too fast to take the turn. Rider does love to go fast fast, *BUT* he is aware of the dangers that he is subjecting himself to by using this mode of transportation.
and since the name is not being released, I have no way of knowing for certain if it is him or not.

you see my difficulty?

I thought about calling his house, but he lives with this parents right now, and they do not answer the phone, they let the machine get it. and if it was him, I didn't want to A) talk to them in this moment and B)possibly be the one to tell them about it, since I am sure they would want to know why I am calling looking for him and him not being home.
I just told myself "it wasn't him. he wears his helmet. he had no reason to be there. he knows better. he doesn't ride like that." so on, and so on. So we went to bed. When I left for work, Luigi asked me to call him and let him know if Rider was there or not. I drove to work, that cold sour feeling in the bottom of my belly. I thought about how I would react if he wasn't there, if they told me it had been him, if he really was dead.
When I got to work, I took a deep breath and went in.
I thought about it all again as I walked through the plant. and as I rounded the corner, I looked up.
and there in the break area, sitting at a table, looking at (I don't remember, it's not important...) is Rider.
I was so relieved.
I walked to the table, and he looked up, a bit surprised, as I put my stuff down and sat next to him, and gave him one of those sitting-next-to-you hugs -- you know, the sideways ones.

When I let go, he said "what was that all about?"
I told him.
He kind of grinned and said "well, sorry to disappoint you."

Silly ass.

I called Luigi at the first opportunity and told him, and he was relieved as well. I kind of think that his relief was more because I was not emotionally hurt than because Rider was all right, but that was there too. We do like this guy. As a matter of fact, he plans to move in with Dr. Nick, as soon as the current roommate vacates - and Rider can get his stuff together and get there. Good for all, y'know?

**********************************************

ok. does this satisfy the blogstapo for now?

hope so.

BTW -- Bunny, send me more info on HaloScan, please... I do want to be accomodating to all, and if the comments are a pain in the ass, well then - they must change.

remind me to tell you about my idea for grownup art camp.

Later.

unh. after party.....

2004-05-16T12:36:00.000-05:00

the day after a party is always a let down, of a sort. there is inevitably one or two people that end up sleeping on the floor, but that doesn't always mean it's because they can't walk.

It was a good party -- the first one we've had here. And apparently the neighbors don't mind a bit of noise outside.

unh. more later.

PARTY!!!

2004-05-15T23:04:00.000-05:00

Draco has arrived! the party is here!

Sleepwalking in Tulsa

one of *those* posts.

The sleeper walks

HURDLES -- #1: The Back Injury (or Where it all begins)

my very own crazy ass neighbors

I've got to admit, it's getting better,

sometimes, I hate my life

Yo

hello, world

birthdays/age

It's all about the Q

"end, begin, all the same.

Post # 99

get a clue

saturday mornings

"C-O-F-F-E-E,

if I were a Disney Princess...

just more mental crud.

Tony

ha ha!

mmmmmm...

No, really --

saturday.

the tuesday usual

not so bad now

I'm here.

yeah, I had to do it too.

halfway cheating, just for Ninsi

don't read this post

It's Friday. Fuckoff.

weeping and wailing

sweet dreams are made of this...

still cheating, yes.

trying to keep up

ok, ok, ok...

May it please the jury...

weekend wackiness

bird brained, part 2

bird brained

one more thing...

thinking

frankenbike

Things I should have said at the time:

very much like a train wreck, thank you.

Oh, great and powerful Phlome...

question:

free enterprise

save/continue?

poetry and rage

I've been gone, but now I'm back -- and this post makes up for the absence.

Guilty

Tra la, tra la

re: Blogger: kiss my ass

Blogger: kiss my ass

Back, post hiatus.

IN DALLAS

again, note.

pbbbbbt.

stream of conciousness

alphabet stuff.

Pooh.

Irritation

*Rant*

Villainous thoughts.

What do you think?

Under Construction...

unfortunate news.

well.

WAFFLES!

Rum and Monkey: The Name Generator Generator

more random surfing

Do you have a REALITY TELEVISION PROGRAM IDEA?

more than you may want to know.

damn stupid yahoo mail...

hey, check it out.

um.

by the way

!@$^%^&$#@#%*&%$#!

summer

girl talk, part 2

one of those posts.

Rant

note