Friday, September 30, 2011
One can never have...
...too many Sylvia Plath books. I know there's a finite number of them, but there's always an older edition or print out there...
(Not that I spent the day trolling east Mesa for antique books)
Anyway, here's my favorite Plath poem for you. I hope your ankle is healing, and I miss you terribly. <3
TULIPS
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage -
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my tea set, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free -
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
(Not that I spent the day trolling east Mesa for antique books)
Anyway, here's my favorite Plath poem for you. I hope your ankle is healing, and I miss you terribly. <3
TULIPS
The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.
Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in
I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly
As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.
I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.
I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses
And my history to the anaesthetist and my body to surgeons.
They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff
Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.
Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.
The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,
They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,
Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,
So it is impossible to tell how many there are.
My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water
Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.
They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.
Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage -
My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,
My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;
Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.
I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat
Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.
They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.
Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley
I watched my tea set, my bureaus of linen, my books
Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.
I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.
I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted
To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.
How free it is, you have no idea how free -
The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,
And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.
It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them
Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.
The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.
Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe
Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby.
Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.
They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,
Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,
A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.
Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.
The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me
Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,
And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow
Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,
And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.
The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.
Before they came the air was calm enough,
Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.
Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.
Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river
Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.
They concentrate my attention, that was happy
Playing and resting without committing itself.
The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.
The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;
They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,
And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes
Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.
The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,
And comes from a country far away as health.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Song of the day!
Updates (other than songs for you) will probably be few and far between for the next week. I'm plowing through finals for half my classes, and gearing up for midterms in the others. In the mean time, I'm sending out TONS of love to you my friend.
And now I'm headed off to bed. :)
(*lovelovelovelovelove*)
And now I'm headed off to bed. :)
(*lovelovelovelovelove*)
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
The great banjo adventure...
My banjo arrived yesterday! (Hooray!) And can I just say, for someone who is not at all musically inclined, the banjo seems to suit me.
It arrived mid afternoon, mere moments after I'd gotten off the phone with Goose. She immediately called back to tell me it was just stunning and that she would get it set up and tuned for me by the time I got off work.
When she came to take me to pick up my bike that afternoon I wanted all the details. She looked at me and said, 'we'll talk about it later'.
Que?
Later?
What's wrong with now?
She looked at me, pained expression on her face and sheepishly said, 'I can't get it to make any noise'.
Um...it's a banjo. That's what they do. They make noise. Plus I paid extra to get one with a resonator on it, so it should make lots of noise. What do you mean it doesn't make noise? What kind of noise is it making then?
Um, well, it kind of sounds like an electric guitar that's not plugged in.
???
Clearly you're doing something wrong. Did you take all the packaging off?
Of course I took all the packaging off! Also the strings are out of order and the whole thing doesn't make any sense. It's also impossible to tune. You'll see. Maybe you can figure it out.
Oy vey.
So I get done with class and head home to my banjo. It is indeed beautiful, but also strangely quiet...and the strings ARE out of order.
Now, I admittedly, am not musically gifted. At. All. My mother brought a piano home one day when I was in grade school. I diligently attended lessons. I practiced and practiced. I learned my theory, and yet my sister almost effortlessly, was playing circles around me in no time. I spent days reading sheet music trying to learn things, and she picked the same songs up by ear, mostly from listening to me struggle. In the fifth grade I picked up the flute. This was mainly an excuse to get out of class. I'd just switched over to public school rather suddenly and was both incredibly socially awkward and way ahead of my class in most if not all subjects. That also did not last. Particularly since the neighbor picked up the flute at the same time and made it a point to learn everything twice as fast. As an adult, I bought myself a guitar. I took some lessons, learned a few things, but mostly my tiny little hands were not built for a full sized guitar, something I had failed to take into account when buying it and I decided music was just not my thing.
So here I sit. Alone on my couch with a banjo. Baffled at the muted sound coming from it and the odd arrangement of strings. I spent a good hour trying to tune it, convinced that that was all it needed, but it WAS impossible to tune.
The googling began in earnest somewhere around here. Now, there is a lot of info out there on banjos, on buying your first banjo, on how to care for you banjo, on how to set up your banjo and so on. However all of this information makes one basic assumption; that you know something, ANYTHING about the instrument in your hands. I did not.
I sat there. Staring at it. Irritated beyond belief at it's inability to comply with my wishes. I stared and stared. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. The more I stared, the more I thought something didn't look right about it. The more I thought it looked wrong, the more wrong it started to look. Damn my insufficient research! Damn my lack of knowledge regarding stringed instruments, of instruments of any kind!
Clearly I should have bought an accordion.
That's when genius struck me. If I feel the banjo is MISSING something, why don't I just google it and find out what it should look like?
Duh.
So I pull up a picture of my banjo. The picture on the screen seemed somehow in-congruent with the banjo in front of me...but how....
I sat there, for a long time, like a little kid with a Highlights magazine, trying to figure out which of the images was different and why. It was hard. Totally not my finest moment. And then I saw it. The problem. The missing piece. The solution to all my banjo worries. That little thing that holds up the strings...my banjo did not have that.
I frantically tear around the house looking for the box. Cursing Goose and her inattention to detail. SHE'S the music person. How on earth could she miss that! Ugh! The box was nowhere to be found.
I stood outside, in my bare feet and my blue dress, at the foot of the dumpster. To climb in or not to climb in?
I call Goose. She directs me to all the things that came with my banjo. My receipt, care instructions, info, and a bag of tools. Inside I found the saddle. The little missing piece. I nearly did a back flip.
Knowing what's missing is all fine and well. Figuring out how to fix it is another all together. I debated, for a while, removing all the strings so that I could get it on there. I decided that would probably end badly. Both for me and the banjo. I tried sliding it under the strings, but it didn't fit. I sat. Confused. Frustrated. Flipping the little piece about my fingers.
LOOSEN THE STRINGS LITTLEFOOT!
Obvious.
After a struggle even Captain Ahab would be impressed with the piece was in place. A couple of youtube videos later and it was in the correct location, and I set about trying to tune it. I failed spectacularly at this. It seems that I can only tell whether a note is flat or sharp when I am not the source of that note. Since I lacked an electric tuner (yet more evidence of my poor planning) tuning by ear turned into a disaster. I did however, manage to tune two strings to the same note. Both of them flat apparently, and not the correct note, but the same note none the less.
I abandoned tuning.
For the rest of the night I tinkered around on my grossly out of tune instrument. It seems the one thing I have going for me in this whole glorious misadventure is that finger picking comes naturally to me. I learned a couple of rolls and was pleased, my faith restored.
Goose came home and tuned it for me. I laughed at her for not noticing the saddle was missing. I mean, that's an acceptable oversight for me, given my extremely limited knowledge of....anything musical, but she's been playing the guitar since she was a kid. She totally should have seen that. CLEARLY this was more her fault than mine, right. ;)
So that's where we stand right now. I'll be working on chords and rolls for the next couple of weeks and as soon as I can play something worthy of a first grade music recital I'll be sure and post it for you. Then we can laugh along together, you and I.
I haven't heard from you in what seems like ages, though I'm sure it's only been a couple of days. We worry about you often, and miss you most every moment. We are glad the little piggy has settled into his condo, and pray to the powers that be that bun-bun comes home soon. I hope things are getting better...all around. That BINGO hasn't driven you mad, and that you aren't as we speak morphing into an old BINGO lady. Lots of love to you Dear Friend. Lots of love.
It arrived mid afternoon, mere moments after I'd gotten off the phone with Goose. She immediately called back to tell me it was just stunning and that she would get it set up and tuned for me by the time I got off work.
When she came to take me to pick up my bike that afternoon I wanted all the details. She looked at me and said, 'we'll talk about it later'.
Que?
Later?
What's wrong with now?
She looked at me, pained expression on her face and sheepishly said, 'I can't get it to make any noise'.
Um...it's a banjo. That's what they do. They make noise. Plus I paid extra to get one with a resonator on it, so it should make lots of noise. What do you mean it doesn't make noise? What kind of noise is it making then?
Um, well, it kind of sounds like an electric guitar that's not plugged in.
???
Clearly you're doing something wrong. Did you take all the packaging off?
Of course I took all the packaging off! Also the strings are out of order and the whole thing doesn't make any sense. It's also impossible to tune. You'll see. Maybe you can figure it out.
Oy vey.
So I get done with class and head home to my banjo. It is indeed beautiful, but also strangely quiet...and the strings ARE out of order.
Now, I admittedly, am not musically gifted. At. All. My mother brought a piano home one day when I was in grade school. I diligently attended lessons. I practiced and practiced. I learned my theory, and yet my sister almost effortlessly, was playing circles around me in no time. I spent days reading sheet music trying to learn things, and she picked the same songs up by ear, mostly from listening to me struggle. In the fifth grade I picked up the flute. This was mainly an excuse to get out of class. I'd just switched over to public school rather suddenly and was both incredibly socially awkward and way ahead of my class in most if not all subjects. That also did not last. Particularly since the neighbor picked up the flute at the same time and made it a point to learn everything twice as fast. As an adult, I bought myself a guitar. I took some lessons, learned a few things, but mostly my tiny little hands were not built for a full sized guitar, something I had failed to take into account when buying it and I decided music was just not my thing.
So here I sit. Alone on my couch with a banjo. Baffled at the muted sound coming from it and the odd arrangement of strings. I spent a good hour trying to tune it, convinced that that was all it needed, but it WAS impossible to tune.
The googling began in earnest somewhere around here. Now, there is a lot of info out there on banjos, on buying your first banjo, on how to care for you banjo, on how to set up your banjo and so on. However all of this information makes one basic assumption; that you know something, ANYTHING about the instrument in your hands. I did not.
I sat there. Staring at it. Irritated beyond belief at it's inability to comply with my wishes. I stared and stared. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with it. The more I stared, the more I thought something didn't look right about it. The more I thought it looked wrong, the more wrong it started to look. Damn my insufficient research! Damn my lack of knowledge regarding stringed instruments, of instruments of any kind!
Clearly I should have bought an accordion.
That's when genius struck me. If I feel the banjo is MISSING something, why don't I just google it and find out what it should look like?
Duh.
So I pull up a picture of my banjo. The picture on the screen seemed somehow in-congruent with the banjo in front of me...but how....
I sat there, for a long time, like a little kid with a Highlights magazine, trying to figure out which of the images was different and why. It was hard. Totally not my finest moment. And then I saw it. The problem. The missing piece. The solution to all my banjo worries. That little thing that holds up the strings...my banjo did not have that.
I frantically tear around the house looking for the box. Cursing Goose and her inattention to detail. SHE'S the music person. How on earth could she miss that! Ugh! The box was nowhere to be found.
I stood outside, in my bare feet and my blue dress, at the foot of the dumpster. To climb in or not to climb in?
I call Goose. She directs me to all the things that came with my banjo. My receipt, care instructions, info, and a bag of tools. Inside I found the saddle. The little missing piece. I nearly did a back flip.
Knowing what's missing is all fine and well. Figuring out how to fix it is another all together. I debated, for a while, removing all the strings so that I could get it on there. I decided that would probably end badly. Both for me and the banjo. I tried sliding it under the strings, but it didn't fit. I sat. Confused. Frustrated. Flipping the little piece about my fingers.
LOOSEN THE STRINGS LITTLEFOOT!
Obvious.
After a struggle even Captain Ahab would be impressed with the piece was in place. A couple of youtube videos later and it was in the correct location, and I set about trying to tune it. I failed spectacularly at this. It seems that I can only tell whether a note is flat or sharp when I am not the source of that note. Since I lacked an electric tuner (yet more evidence of my poor planning) tuning by ear turned into a disaster. I did however, manage to tune two strings to the same note. Both of them flat apparently, and not the correct note, but the same note none the less.
I abandoned tuning.
For the rest of the night I tinkered around on my grossly out of tune instrument. It seems the one thing I have going for me in this whole glorious misadventure is that finger picking comes naturally to me. I learned a couple of rolls and was pleased, my faith restored.
Goose came home and tuned it for me. I laughed at her for not noticing the saddle was missing. I mean, that's an acceptable oversight for me, given my extremely limited knowledge of....anything musical, but she's been playing the guitar since she was a kid. She totally should have seen that. CLEARLY this was more her fault than mine, right. ;)
So that's where we stand right now. I'll be working on chords and rolls for the next couple of weeks and as soon as I can play something worthy of a first grade music recital I'll be sure and post it for you. Then we can laugh along together, you and I.
I haven't heard from you in what seems like ages, though I'm sure it's only been a couple of days. We worry about you often, and miss you most every moment. We are glad the little piggy has settled into his condo, and pray to the powers that be that bun-bun comes home soon. I hope things are getting better...all around. That BINGO hasn't driven you mad, and that you aren't as we speak morphing into an old BINGO lady. Lots of love to you Dear Friend. Lots of love.
Two For Tueday!
It's a Tilly and The Wall kind of morning here in Arizona Town, so much so that I couldn't figure out which song suited my mood more. Guess we'll just have to listen to them both eh?
More on the great banjo adventure later Dear Friend! <3
So I thank the city, the lights that it's spinning
The friends that I have and the shoes we’re not shining
The drunk horn’s so violent, all spinning out sounds
But the colour’s so vibrant , the colour’s so loud
The newly-born crying realizing what life is
The eyes of my grandfather right before dying
The see-saw of all, its rickety bounce
The feeling of coming, the feeling of going
The mother, the child, the tame and the wild
The sleeping in minor, the gold leaf, the tire
The crooked, the straight, all the hip and the fake
Oh, I'm finally feeling the stitching of beautiful seams
Sometimes you just can't hold back the river
No one will ever save you
If no one can ever find you
More on the great banjo adventure later Dear Friend! <3
So I thank the city, the lights that it's spinning
The friends that I have and the shoes we’re not shining
The drunk horn’s so violent, all spinning out sounds
But the colour’s so vibrant , the colour’s so loud
The newly-born crying realizing what life is
The eyes of my grandfather right before dying
The see-saw of all, its rickety bounce
The feeling of coming, the feeling of going
The mother, the child, the tame and the wild
The sleeping in minor, the gold leaf, the tire
The crooked, the straight, all the hip and the fake
Oh, I'm finally feeling the stitching of beautiful seams
Sometimes you just can't hold back the river
No one will ever save you
If no one can ever find you
Monday, September 26, 2011
Monday, Monday!
Rise and shine Dear Friend of Mine (<- haha, rhymes), it's Monday morning! I have been up for four hours now, I have had way too much coffee, and I am in a rather joyous mood.
As a result I am doing my top-secret, dancing-my-super-happy-dance-when-no-one-is-around, fun-time jig. Be jealous. It's amazing. Sadly for you, it can, by definition, only be done when no one can see it, so you'll never know just how sweet it is. Sad sad times.
Anywh-hay here's a morning time song for you to dance to. We'll do our morning jigs together, and for a moment, forget that we're a million miles apart.
Hope you're well. TONS of love from me to you.
(P.S. Jessica Jew re-wrote this song so that it was about Greek history in High School and as a result I sometimes end up singing parts of her version on accident! Ha!)
*happy-time-jig begins now!*
As a result I am doing my top-secret, dancing-my-super-happy-dance-when-no-one-is-around, fun-time jig. Be jealous. It's amazing. Sadly for you, it can, by definition, only be done when no one can see it, so you'll never know just how sweet it is. Sad sad times.
Anywh-hay here's a morning time song for you to dance to. We'll do our morning jigs together, and for a moment, forget that we're a million miles apart.
Hope you're well. TONS of love from me to you.
(P.S. Jessica Jew re-wrote this song so that it was about Greek history in High School and as a result I sometimes end up singing parts of her version on accident! Ha!)
*happy-time-jig begins now!*
Sunday, September 25, 2011
P.S.
MY BANJO ARRIVES TOMORROW!!!
*SQUEEEEE*
Fun times and silly videos to come, pinky promise!
*Muah*
*SQUEEEEE*
Fun times and silly videos to come, pinky promise!
*Muah*
Song of the Day!
I can't believe the weekend is already over. I am soooooo not ready for another week of work/school. *le sigh*
Ready or not though, it's coming! Guess that means I'm heading to bed so I'll leave you with some Heather Nova.
Hope your weekend seemed longer than mine did Dear Friend, and that this coming week brings good things to both of us. I miss you terribly, and I'm DYING for an update.
Sweet dreams.
Ready or not though, it's coming! Guess that means I'm heading to bed so I'll leave you with some Heather Nova.
Hope your weekend seemed longer than mine did Dear Friend, and that this coming week brings good things to both of us. I miss you terribly, and I'm DYING for an update.
Sweet dreams.
Fun in the desert.
Dear Friend, yesterday we went fossiling, (by ourselves this time). This time was different from all the others because Gooses' hand is in pretty bad shape. As a result we ascended slowly, and spent a lot of time surface collecting in areas we normally sprint past on our way up to the shale cliffs. It was unexpectedly productive.
On the way back down Goose said that out of all the people we've brought out there, you were the only person she didn't worry would fall to their death. :) She says she never has to worry about you or I out there. I think that's not so much because we're sure-footed (which we clearly aren't), or because we only climb in places that look safe (also clearly false) but because she knows if either of us fell, we'd find a way to get ourselves back to the car, mangled limbs and all, and patch ourselves up as best we can without totally freaking out. Goose is not so sure about all of that. But that's okay. She says she doesn't doubt I'd make it most of the way down on my own, broken limbs and all, but that she's unsure how I'd get down that last bit of waterfall by myself. Psh. I told her not to worry about that waterfall. That if it came down to it, I'd build me a slide.
And then the eye rolling began. LOL!
Anywho, here are some pictures of the desert. I know you're probably going crazy up there in all that green.
These are from the drive up:
Some interesting geology near the site:
Some fossils in situ:
Taking a break about half way up:
And one of the sunset:
It really did look like the mountains were on fire. Goose took some video of us driving around the mountains into the sunset for you, but as of yet I have not figured out how to upload videos to this thing. Ha!
Hope you're well Dear Friend. We miss you tons and tons. Oh, and I'm looking for a good pattern for a pig mask for you, don't you worry. :)
On the way back down Goose said that out of all the people we've brought out there, you were the only person she didn't worry would fall to their death. :) She says she never has to worry about you or I out there. I think that's not so much because we're sure-footed (which we clearly aren't), or because we only climb in places that look safe (also clearly false) but because she knows if either of us fell, we'd find a way to get ourselves back to the car, mangled limbs and all, and patch ourselves up as best we can without totally freaking out. Goose is not so sure about all of that. But that's okay. She says she doesn't doubt I'd make it most of the way down on my own, broken limbs and all, but that she's unsure how I'd get down that last bit of waterfall by myself. Psh. I told her not to worry about that waterfall. That if it came down to it, I'd build me a slide.
And then the eye rolling began. LOL!
Anywho, here are some pictures of the desert. I know you're probably going crazy up there in all that green.
These are from the drive up:
Some interesting geology near the site:
Some fossils in situ:
Taking a break about half way up:
And one of the sunset:
It really did look like the mountains were on fire. Goose took some video of us driving around the mountains into the sunset for you, but as of yet I have not figured out how to upload videos to this thing. Ha!
Hope you're well Dear Friend. We miss you tons and tons. Oh, and I'm looking for a good pattern for a pig mask for you, don't you worry. :)
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Song of the Day!
Had a pretty good day today, still sick, but feeling better overall. :)
Hope you're well my lovely. Call when you have time.
Thursday, September 22, 2011
There's a drumming noise inside my head...
Today I am hanging out just under the line for officially being sick. It all began last Thursday with a migraine. It started out weak and rolled along into one of those nefarious monsters that sits just below my pain threshold...until I bend over...or sneeze, or cough, or hiccup. Should any of those events occur suddenly the pain races like lightning from the back of my head to behind my eyes and my ears start to ring. Over the next few days it came and went, taking with it most of the vision in my left eye, and leaving me with just a touch of vertigo as a parting gift.
Today was the first day that I felt decidedly (all around) unwell. It started off well enough and gradually the hallmarks of illness started to surface. Shaky hands, dizziness, exhaustion. As I write this there is a whomp-whomp kind of drumming inside my head and I can't seem to regulate my body temperature. Yuck. Unpleasant.
Stress and I are not friends. I am almost always unwell following periods of intense stress because my immune system is sub-par and is easily set off-kilter. Today I did not attend my lab, for the second week in a row, which means I will now have to produce a doctors note and show up with a sacrificial offering to the Gods that Be in the Anthro department, hoping for appeasement and a spot in the only remaining lab session tomorrow. *le sigh*
In other news, fossil hunt and a photoshoot planned for this weekend (pictures to come, of course) and fossil hunting (with MY DAD!!!) planned for the following weekend. Oh and Goose probably broke her hand. More on that later. Right now I'm going to go put on my sunglasses, go to bed, and pray that my head starts to feel better.
Song of the day is Florence and the Machine. I like 'My Boy Builds Coffins' better, but this one gets stuck in my head whenever it starts pounding. :P
Lots-o-love
Today was the first day that I felt decidedly (all around) unwell. It started off well enough and gradually the hallmarks of illness started to surface. Shaky hands, dizziness, exhaustion. As I write this there is a whomp-whomp kind of drumming inside my head and I can't seem to regulate my body temperature. Yuck. Unpleasant.
Stress and I are not friends. I am almost always unwell following periods of intense stress because my immune system is sub-par and is easily set off-kilter. Today I did not attend my lab, for the second week in a row, which means I will now have to produce a doctors note and show up with a sacrificial offering to the Gods that Be in the Anthro department, hoping for appeasement and a spot in the only remaining lab session tomorrow. *le sigh*
In other news, fossil hunt and a photoshoot planned for this weekend (pictures to come, of course) and fossil hunting (with MY DAD!!!) planned for the following weekend. Oh and Goose probably broke her hand. More on that later. Right now I'm going to go put on my sunglasses, go to bed, and pray that my head starts to feel better.
Song of the day is Florence and the Machine. I like 'My Boy Builds Coffins' better, but this one gets stuck in my head whenever it starts pounding. :P
Lots-o-love
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
One more thing.
Logic, when intertwined with mental illness does not follow a straight path. It often doubles back upon itself. Branches out into the what-actually-happened, the what-could-have-happened, and the what-I felt-like-happened. It chases its own tail for days and days. It hyper-focuses on details, on irrelevancies, looking for clues both meaningless and otherwise. It analyzes and filters all things.
Because you can't look in at it and take a straight path from A to B doesn't mean the path isn't there and it doesn't mean the whole thing was irrational. Just that rationality is sometimes applied to things in my mind that other minds would not have applied it to.
I am a complicated system. I have a wild mess of roots beneath me. They're hard to follow from where you stand.
Because you can't get me from where you are, doesn't mean that I don't make sense. I do, just not in the same way you do.
Because you can't look in at it and take a straight path from A to B doesn't mean the path isn't there and it doesn't mean the whole thing was irrational. Just that rationality is sometimes applied to things in my mind that other minds would not have applied it to.
I am a complicated system. I have a wild mess of roots beneath me. They're hard to follow from where you stand.
Because you can't get me from where you are, doesn't mean that I don't make sense. I do, just not in the same way you do.
Spring, it came upon us.
I'm still muddling through the mess from this weekend, which is far more complicated, and cuts far deeper than I had anticipated. Currently I'm trying to figure out where I sit (in relation to my sister) as this is not at all what I saw coming at me this week. I'm confused, and a little lost, but mostly hurt, which I suppose will heal with time.
It's really strange how such tiny things, and it really was tiny I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, can just totally derail a life. At least briefly.
Where to go from here? I'm not sure. But I'm getting there. One step at a time.
In other news, I bought a banjo and I fully intend to slosh through these next few complicated weeks plucking away on it. Hoping that honing my clawhammer skills will somehow heal my wounds.
Lots of love to you Dear Friend.
verse 1
spring it came upon us,
every insect filled the air
dropped their wings upon my brother,
cast their shadows on his hair
if we follow where they’re leading,
we will surely come before
some unseen and wondrous magic
made of visions to explore
chorus
near the town where we were living
was an old abandoned farm
every year we’d plant an orchid
in the shelter of it’s arm
to protect us from the madness
of the future still to come
it will be like this forever
i will keep you safe from harm
verse 2
then they caught us in the summer
dressed in fathers finest clothes
you the hat he wore to market
i the jacket filled with holes
i’ve been searching all these hours
for a hand as pale as bone
that would keep the strongest sunlight
and reflect the brightest stone
chorus 2
near the town where we were living
was a warm and fragrant smell
of the orchid we had planted
now a forest tall and well
what a statue to our greatness
what a story all will tell
they’ll remember us forever
they’ll remember where we fell
bridge
this old dark machine, it shakes and it shudders
pulls to the left, then dies near the gutter
but still in the road, the traffic is silent
the people they stare, and then they turn violent
if they should touch, the hem of your dress
i would rise like a lion, strike out again
the faithful they wait, the faithful they wait
by the sign
chorus 3
near the town where we were living
came a loud and joyous sound
as the earth and all her beauty
picked us up from off the ground
carried far across the mountain
to a kingdom never bound
we will live like this forever
i will love you
i will love you
i will love you
It's really strange how such tiny things, and it really was tiny I suppose, in the grand scheme of things, can just totally derail a life. At least briefly.
Where to go from here? I'm not sure. But I'm getting there. One step at a time.
In other news, I bought a banjo and I fully intend to slosh through these next few complicated weeks plucking away on it. Hoping that honing my clawhammer skills will somehow heal my wounds.
Lots of love to you Dear Friend.
verse 1
spring it came upon us,
every insect filled the air
dropped their wings upon my brother,
cast their shadows on his hair
if we follow where they’re leading,
we will surely come before
some unseen and wondrous magic
made of visions to explore
chorus
near the town where we were living
was an old abandoned farm
every year we’d plant an orchid
in the shelter of it’s arm
to protect us from the madness
of the future still to come
it will be like this forever
i will keep you safe from harm
verse 2
then they caught us in the summer
dressed in fathers finest clothes
you the hat he wore to market
i the jacket filled with holes
i’ve been searching all these hours
for a hand as pale as bone
that would keep the strongest sunlight
and reflect the brightest stone
chorus 2
near the town where we were living
was a warm and fragrant smell
of the orchid we had planted
now a forest tall and well
what a statue to our greatness
what a story all will tell
they’ll remember us forever
they’ll remember where we fell
bridge
this old dark machine, it shakes and it shudders
pulls to the left, then dies near the gutter
but still in the road, the traffic is silent
the people they stare, and then they turn violent
if they should touch, the hem of your dress
i would rise like a lion, strike out again
the faithful they wait, the faithful they wait
by the sign
chorus 3
near the town where we were living
came a loud and joyous sound
as the earth and all her beauty
picked us up from off the ground
carried far across the mountain
to a kingdom never bound
we will live like this forever
i will love you
i will love you
i will love you
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Song of the day.
For fear the hearts of men are failing,
For these are latter days we know
The Great Depression now is spreading,
God's word declared it would be so
I'm going where there's no depression,
To the lovely land that's free from care
I'll leave this world of toil and trouble,
My home's in Heaven, I'm going there
In that bright land, there'll be no hunger,
No orphan children crying for bread,
No weeping widows, toil or struggle,
No shrouds, no coffins, and no death
This dark hour of midnight nearing
And tribulation time will come
The storms will hurl in midnight fear
And sweep lost millions to their doom
*love*
Monday, September 19, 2011
Black soul chior.
Today was rough. Really really rough. Super extra rough.
I really truly dislike being angry. It is, by far my least favorite emotion and I am irritated beyond belief at the goings on of last night and they way they have left me shaken. To. the. core.
There are things said between my sister and I, well, mostly said by my sister to myself that are needlessly cruel. That's our dynamic. She says hurtful things when she wants to say kind ones. It's not right, but it's what we're working with right now.
This is not an invitation for other people to join in. Because Dear Sister can say callous things about me and our abusive childhood does not give any bystander the right to chime in. She was there with me. She has the right to say what she will.
And thinking it was just a fun ol' conversation is not a valid explanation. You do not tell people who have been systematically abused for more than a decade that they deserved it, and you certainly do not tell them to get over it. And neither of those things are in any way, in any dimension, part of a fun conversation.
And for the record, if I leave a family meal at a restaurant, mid-meal, whether I seem upset or not, it's a pretty good indicator that a line has been crossed.
Please take note.
That being said, tomorrow is a new day and I'm moving on.
Also, there's nothing like a banjo for nursing salty wounds.
No man ever seen the face of his foe no
He ain't made of flesh and bone
He's the one who sits up close beside you
And when he's there you are alone.
Every man is evil yes and every man's a liar
Unashamed with the wicked tongues sing
In the black soul choir
I really truly dislike being angry. It is, by far my least favorite emotion and I am irritated beyond belief at the goings on of last night and they way they have left me shaken. To. the. core.
There are things said between my sister and I, well, mostly said by my sister to myself that are needlessly cruel. That's our dynamic. She says hurtful things when she wants to say kind ones. It's not right, but it's what we're working with right now.
This is not an invitation for other people to join in. Because Dear Sister can say callous things about me and our abusive childhood does not give any bystander the right to chime in. She was there with me. She has the right to say what she will.
And thinking it was just a fun ol' conversation is not a valid explanation. You do not tell people who have been systematically abused for more than a decade that they deserved it, and you certainly do not tell them to get over it. And neither of those things are in any way, in any dimension, part of a fun conversation.
And for the record, if I leave a family meal at a restaurant, mid-meal, whether I seem upset or not, it's a pretty good indicator that a line has been crossed.
Please take note.
That being said, tomorrow is a new day and I'm moving on.
Also, there's nothing like a banjo for nursing salty wounds.
No man ever seen the face of his foe no
He ain't made of flesh and bone
He's the one who sits up close beside you
And when he's there you are alone.
Every man is evil yes and every man's a liar
Unashamed with the wicked tongues sing
In the black soul choir
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Well that was horrific.
Hands down the worst family dinner I've ever had, and we both know I've had some doozies.
It's hard to say where it all started going wrong, but somehow it went from fantastic to apocalypse in 0.6
I left in tears, which never happens. My sister, of all people then called me crying to tell me that she loves me, which has never in the history of our lives happened. Oh, and I can't see my dad and I being on speaking terms any time in the near future, not because I don't love him, but because he continually allows his girlfriend/wife to make snarky comments about me to my face and really, I don't have time for that anymore.
Yep. That about sums it up.
Now I'm going to take a long bath, eat some chocolate, and then go to bed.
It's hard to say where it all started going wrong, but somehow it went from fantastic to apocalypse in 0.6
I left in tears, which never happens. My sister, of all people then called me crying to tell me that she loves me, which has never in the history of our lives happened. Oh, and I can't see my dad and I being on speaking terms any time in the near future, not because I don't love him, but because he continually allows his girlfriend/wife to make snarky comments about me to my face and really, I don't have time for that anymore.
Yep. That about sums it up.
Now I'm going to take a long bath, eat some chocolate, and then go to bed.
Steady on my feet? Not quite.
Oh Dear Friend, the things you missed!
We went to the mall to get something for my sister's birthday. I was wearing heels, maybe 3 inches, not too high, but with a narrow heel, and my foot is still not right from the break last spring. In fact, I've been diligently avoiding heels for the past year, both because it's still painful (since I broke the ball of my foot) and because I'm not terribly good at walking in them anymore. Anyway, I bought a rather pretty onxy bowl and some other treasures and we were heading back towards the entrance when it all went wrong.
The floors are wood, and must have been recently waxed because I had mentioned earlier that I wasn't getting very good traction. I looked down at my feet, for some reason, slipped, and totally lost my balance in the most spectacular fall in recent memory. I was holding onto Goose's hand, which is probably what kept me from shattering my face on the floor, and I remember thinking, oh crap, this is going to be bad.
And it was.
There was an audible "pop" as I hit the floor, which I would later discover was my bowl shattering into a million fragments, and then found myself, face down, inches away from the floor. My limbs were splayed out behind me in various directions, Goose was clinging to one arm for dear life, and the VERY crowded mall came to a momentary halt.
Ugh.
But I got up and carried on without so much as blushing. I think that small stroke of luck was due mostly to the shock of the fall. The people who were behind us however, were now in front of us, and were clearly embarrassed for me.
We made it home, and I discovered my shattered bowl. I decided I could probably glue it together, and that seemed to work for a bit. However, before long, I had glued my fingers to the bowl, and the bowl to my leg and by the time I'd freed myself from it most of my fingers were in cased in a very thick layer of superglue. I soaked them in acetone to no avail, and am now, attempting to chew off the larger pieces so that my fingers can feel like fingers again, and less like stone.
About 2/3 of the bowl had shattered cleanly and could be glued back together. The remaining third however, is crumbling away to nothingness so that whole project was for naught, and has been abandoned.
In other news, it's possible I left my phone out in our fossil spot, but equally possible that it's somewhere in the car amongst the mess of fossiling equipment. If you need me in the mean time, please call Goose. Lots of love. *lovelovelove*
We went to the mall to get something for my sister's birthday. I was wearing heels, maybe 3 inches, not too high, but with a narrow heel, and my foot is still not right from the break last spring. In fact, I've been diligently avoiding heels for the past year, both because it's still painful (since I broke the ball of my foot) and because I'm not terribly good at walking in them anymore. Anyway, I bought a rather pretty onxy bowl and some other treasures and we were heading back towards the entrance when it all went wrong.
The floors are wood, and must have been recently waxed because I had mentioned earlier that I wasn't getting very good traction. I looked down at my feet, for some reason, slipped, and totally lost my balance in the most spectacular fall in recent memory. I was holding onto Goose's hand, which is probably what kept me from shattering my face on the floor, and I remember thinking, oh crap, this is going to be bad.
And it was.
There was an audible "pop" as I hit the floor, which I would later discover was my bowl shattering into a million fragments, and then found myself, face down, inches away from the floor. My limbs were splayed out behind me in various directions, Goose was clinging to one arm for dear life, and the VERY crowded mall came to a momentary halt.
Ugh.
But I got up and carried on without so much as blushing. I think that small stroke of luck was due mostly to the shock of the fall. The people who were behind us however, were now in front of us, and were clearly embarrassed for me.
We made it home, and I discovered my shattered bowl. I decided I could probably glue it together, and that seemed to work for a bit. However, before long, I had glued my fingers to the bowl, and the bowl to my leg and by the time I'd freed myself from it most of my fingers were in cased in a very thick layer of superglue. I soaked them in acetone to no avail, and am now, attempting to chew off the larger pieces so that my fingers can feel like fingers again, and less like stone.
About 2/3 of the bowl had shattered cleanly and could be glued back together. The remaining third however, is crumbling away to nothingness so that whole project was for naught, and has been abandoned.
In other news, it's possible I left my phone out in our fossil spot, but equally possible that it's somewhere in the car amongst the mess of fossiling equipment. If you need me in the mean time, please call Goose. Lots of love. *lovelovelove*
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Procrastination!
Woah, it's been a rough week! And I for one, am very glad that it's over.
I had grand plans for this past week, productive, buckling down, getting sh*t done kind of plans.
It started Tuesday, when I came home to two weeks worth of calculus homework that was due before midnight. Yuck. So I went to work. Pulled up my big kid panties and very studiously completed the mountain of math before me. I promised myself that this week, which was riddled with tests and papers would be different. I would come home, sit down at the table, and do my work.
It didn't work out that way.
Wednesday I attempted to work on my geo homework, since it's only a 5 week course and it ends October 7th. It's a two part class with 15 units for each part and 4 or 5 subunits to each unit which means roughly 150 assignments to do. None of them are very hard, but they are a bit on the time consuming side. At this point, I'm about 2/3 done and totally disinterested in finishing the remaining third of the class. Instead I did a little bit of reading for my STP 420 class, but not enough to accomplish anything and cleaned the house.
Thursday I fully intended to work on my math, to study for the two massive tests I have on Monday and Tuesday in Evo Primatology and Geoarch, but instead my sister called and asked me if I would pretty please be a hair model for her friend's job interview. I looked at the shaggy mess of hair on my head, which by the way, now fits into a ponytail (yuck!) and agreed. She picked me up at 3 and it was nearing 10 before I got home.
I have a lot of hair. A LOT. I always try to emphasize this when I go to get my hair cut, because it really does take 2 hours to cut it, but nobody ever takes me seriously and then looks at me, appalled at how thick my hair is. *le sigh*. She had to color, highlight, and cut my hair for her interview, which explains the time it took. But my hair does look fantastic, so that was totally worth it.
Yesterday I woke up with the migraine to end all migraines, and struggled through my shift. I came home, took my headache medicine, had a nap, and got up ready to work on my homework. Instead, I found dear sweet Goose, in the throws of a panic attack after having procrastinated her way through the school week as well. All of her work was due at 9 and it was already passed 7 so I put my work aside and helped her bust through the ridiculous amount of work she had.
I spent the remainder of last night trudging through the mountain of geo homework like a good girl. By 1am my brain had turned to pudding and I wasn't retaining anything I was reading so I went to bed.
Today many many things have to get done. I have a paper to write for STP 420 that is due by noon on Monday. I have tests on Monday and Tuesday that I am vastly under prepared for. I need to work on the adaptive radiations of old world primates and do some cladistic trees for the lemurs of Madagascar and I need to pick a lemur species for class that has not already been chosen (since I missed class on Monday when everyone chose their primates). I need to start on the next unit for my math class and figure out what I'm going to do my first calc project on. Gross. And I need to not get overwhelmed by any of this.
Tonight ET is coming over and tomorrow we have family stuff to do for Dear Sister's birthday.
I think it's fair to say I am beyond swamped. But you know what? I kind of like it that way. Granted I wish I had just a few more minutes of precious free time, but I made my bed, it's relatively comfortable, so I'll lay in it just the same.
I hope you're doing okay. Goose is super worried about you and wants you to know you can call her whenever. I don't have the free time right now to give you a definitive yes on the book thing, but that might change once I get through this week and things start to clear up. . . that's pretty much it from the desert. That's all I know.
I love you tons Dear Friend. Tons and tons. And I miss you every day. *love*
Song for Yesterday:
I had grand plans for this past week, productive, buckling down, getting sh*t done kind of plans.
It started Tuesday, when I came home to two weeks worth of calculus homework that was due before midnight. Yuck. So I went to work. Pulled up my big kid panties and very studiously completed the mountain of math before me. I promised myself that this week, which was riddled with tests and papers would be different. I would come home, sit down at the table, and do my work.
It didn't work out that way.
Wednesday I attempted to work on my geo homework, since it's only a 5 week course and it ends October 7th. It's a two part class with 15 units for each part and 4 or 5 subunits to each unit which means roughly 150 assignments to do. None of them are very hard, but they are a bit on the time consuming side. At this point, I'm about 2/3 done and totally disinterested in finishing the remaining third of the class. Instead I did a little bit of reading for my STP 420 class, but not enough to accomplish anything and cleaned the house.
Thursday I fully intended to work on my math, to study for the two massive tests I have on Monday and Tuesday in Evo Primatology and Geoarch, but instead my sister called and asked me if I would pretty please be a hair model for her friend's job interview. I looked at the shaggy mess of hair on my head, which by the way, now fits into a ponytail (yuck!) and agreed. She picked me up at 3 and it was nearing 10 before I got home.
I have a lot of hair. A LOT. I always try to emphasize this when I go to get my hair cut, because it really does take 2 hours to cut it, but nobody ever takes me seriously and then looks at me, appalled at how thick my hair is. *le sigh*. She had to color, highlight, and cut my hair for her interview, which explains the time it took. But my hair does look fantastic, so that was totally worth it.
Yesterday I woke up with the migraine to end all migraines, and struggled through my shift. I came home, took my headache medicine, had a nap, and got up ready to work on my homework. Instead, I found dear sweet Goose, in the throws of a panic attack after having procrastinated her way through the school week as well. All of her work was due at 9 and it was already passed 7 so I put my work aside and helped her bust through the ridiculous amount of work she had.
I spent the remainder of last night trudging through the mountain of geo homework like a good girl. By 1am my brain had turned to pudding and I wasn't retaining anything I was reading so I went to bed.
Today many many things have to get done. I have a paper to write for STP 420 that is due by noon on Monday. I have tests on Monday and Tuesday that I am vastly under prepared for. I need to work on the adaptive radiations of old world primates and do some cladistic trees for the lemurs of Madagascar and I need to pick a lemur species for class that has not already been chosen (since I missed class on Monday when everyone chose their primates). I need to start on the next unit for my math class and figure out what I'm going to do my first calc project on. Gross. And I need to not get overwhelmed by any of this.
Tonight ET is coming over and tomorrow we have family stuff to do for Dear Sister's birthday.
I think it's fair to say I am beyond swamped. But you know what? I kind of like it that way. Granted I wish I had just a few more minutes of precious free time, but I made my bed, it's relatively comfortable, so I'll lay in it just the same.
I hope you're doing okay. Goose is super worried about you and wants you to know you can call her whenever. I don't have the free time right now to give you a definitive yes on the book thing, but that might change once I get through this week and things start to clear up. . . that's pretty much it from the desert. That's all I know.
I love you tons Dear Friend. Tons and tons. And I miss you every day. *love*
Song for Yesterday:
Thursday, September 15, 2011
mehmehmeh.
A song to start the day:
Collecting things. It's a problem I have. One that has plagued me since childhood. Part of it is due to my slightly obsessive nature, and part of it is due to the pleasure I find in sorting/organizing items and building displays.
I have had many, many collections over the course of my life. Common things like rocks and shells and stamps. Odd things like the jars and jars of palm tree seeds I collected in grades k-3, the vat of rusty nuts and bolts on my desk at work, and the endless crates of fossils at home.
The lists go on and on.
Recently I found my abandoned coin collection from grade school and set to work finishing what I started. I have now officially filled in all my coin books (pennies, nickels, quarters dimes, (all basic) state quarters, American territory quarters, state park quarters, Lincoln pennies, explorer nickels, etc.) I organized all my coin books and put them away. Pleased with the completion of a project.
All was right in the world.
And then Goose came home from work.
Clutched in her hand were three coins. Gold dollars. With different presidents on them.
Maybe I'm not done with my coin collection after all.
Collecting things. It's a problem I have. One that has plagued me since childhood. Part of it is due to my slightly obsessive nature, and part of it is due to the pleasure I find in sorting/organizing items and building displays.
I have had many, many collections over the course of my life. Common things like rocks and shells and stamps. Odd things like the jars and jars of palm tree seeds I collected in grades k-3, the vat of rusty nuts and bolts on my desk at work, and the endless crates of fossils at home.
The lists go on and on.
Recently I found my abandoned coin collection from grade school and set to work finishing what I started. I have now officially filled in all my coin books (pennies, nickels, quarters dimes, (all basic) state quarters, American territory quarters, state park quarters, Lincoln pennies, explorer nickels, etc.) I organized all my coin books and put them away. Pleased with the completion of a project.
All was right in the world.
And then Goose came home from work.
Clutched in her hand were three coins. Gold dollars. With different presidents on them.
Maybe I'm not done with my coin collection after all.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Songs for the Days!!
Oh my gosh what a week! Needless to say I'm running behind. Yes, yes, shame on me indeed. Here are two, one each for Monday and Tuesday. I'll update you later for today.
In the mean time it's my first week of exams and with 7 classes, I'm more than a little swamped. That being said, I miss you terribly.
In the mean time it's my first week of exams and with 7 classes, I'm more than a little swamped. That being said, I miss you terribly.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Song of the Day
This is my favorite song for dark days, when my heart feels shattered by the weight of things.
This song, strange as it sounds, was really the thing that made me pull myself together when life was it's blackest and I felt totally paralyzed by the mess I'd managed to make of my life.
It seems counter intuitive, but sometimes that's just the way I roll.
Lots of love, from us to you Dear Friend. Lots of love.
I dreamt of a fever,
One that would cure me of this cold, winter set heart.
With heat to melt these frozen tears
Burned with reasons as to carry on.
Into these twisted months I plunge without a light to follow
But I swear that I would follow anything
Just get me out of here.
And you get six months to adapt
Then you get two more to leave town.
And in the event that you do adapt
We still might not want you around.
But I fell for the promise of a life with a purpose
But I know that that's impossible now.
And so I drink to stay warm
And to kill selected memories
'cause I just can't think anymore about that
Or about her tonight
But I give myself three days to feel better
Or else I swear I'll drive right off a fucking cliff
'cause if I can't learn to make myself feel better
How can I expect anyone else to give a shit?
And I scream for the sunlight or a car to take me anywhere
Just get me past this dead and eternal snow
'cause I swear that I'm dying, slowly but it's happening
And if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere
Just take me there, just take me there, just take me there
And say, and lie to me, and say, and lie to me, and say
It's going to be alright [x9]
This song, strange as it sounds, was really the thing that made me pull myself together when life was it's blackest and I felt totally paralyzed by the mess I'd managed to make of my life.
It seems counter intuitive, but sometimes that's just the way I roll.
Lots of love, from us to you Dear Friend. Lots of love.
I dreamt of a fever,
One that would cure me of this cold, winter set heart.
With heat to melt these frozen tears
Burned with reasons as to carry on.
Into these twisted months I plunge without a light to follow
But I swear that I would follow anything
Just get me out of here.
And you get six months to adapt
Then you get two more to leave town.
And in the event that you do adapt
We still might not want you around.
But I fell for the promise of a life with a purpose
But I know that that's impossible now.
And so I drink to stay warm
And to kill selected memories
'cause I just can't think anymore about that
Or about her tonight
But I give myself three days to feel better
Or else I swear I'll drive right off a fucking cliff
'cause if I can't learn to make myself feel better
How can I expect anyone else to give a shit?
And I scream for the sunlight or a car to take me anywhere
Just get me past this dead and eternal snow
'cause I swear that I'm dying, slowly but it's happening
And if the perfect spring is waiting somewhere
Just take me there, just take me there, just take me there
And say, and lie to me, and say, and lie to me, and say
It's going to be alright [x9]
Bwahahahahahaha!!!
Alright YOU.
Came across this tonight
and thought of you.
Mostly because he's wearing your shirt.
which I am also currently wearing.
Hopefully this makes you giggle.
Miss you horribly.
Tons of love from us to you.
Came across this tonight
and thought of you.
Mostly because he's wearing your shirt.
which I am also currently wearing.
Hopefully this makes you giggle.
Miss you horribly.
Tons of love from us to you.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
We're not in Kansas anymore....
Well my lovely, it's been a long week.
It's been hot, not HOT hot, like July, but a miserable shade of humid hot. (Like 105ish with 50+% humidity). The past couple of days have been stormy. Dark, even during the days, and full of lightning and a low, rumbling thunder that seems to be creeping out of the air directly above my head regardless of where I may be. Last night I thought for sure it was going to rain. HARD. But it didn't. It sprinkled on and off though the afternoon/evening but nothing substantial. Once the sun went down though, the lightning really picked up.
I wish I could have gotten a picture of it for you, because it was breathtaking, but I didn't. *Shame* It was that really particular kind of lightning that sort of spiders across the sky. It almost looked like the sky had hands for a while there.
Well today was much the same, it was sunnier during the day, but still humid and heavy. We were supposed to get some serious thunderstorms, but they missed us. If you were still here you would have gotten to see the best of it. Apparently there was a tornado, or at least a 'severe thunderstorm with a rotating updraft characteristic of a tornado' that blew through AJ/east mesa and down along the Salt River. We were put under a tornado warning none-the-less.
Here is a terrible picture of the lightning tonight, which was not nearly as pretty, and was, for the most part obscured by puffy clouds.
That's all the excitement I've got for you. ET (collectively, E&T on their own, lol) is heading over tonight, hopefully since we haven't seen Miss T since pride...PRIDE! It's been like 6 months?! Sheesh...we're making ceviche (I'll post the recipe for you later tonight for you I pinky-promise).
Song of the day is by Sissy Bar. Never mind the odd video, it's literally the only thing I could find on the whole entire interwebs with this song on it. You're going to have to cope.
"There's a dream in the back of my mind
Across the tracks is where I'll find my
Dreamy trailer pretty trailer
Dreamy trailer pretty trailer
Stale donuts in the den
My common stove is broke broke down
Neighbor neighbor call the neighbor
We'll have dinner in the trailor
And if you find a place
Double wide for extra space
Plywood Astroturf for a happy place
You've found my dream"
It's been hot, not HOT hot, like July, but a miserable shade of humid hot. (Like 105ish with 50+% humidity). The past couple of days have been stormy. Dark, even during the days, and full of lightning and a low, rumbling thunder that seems to be creeping out of the air directly above my head regardless of where I may be. Last night I thought for sure it was going to rain. HARD. But it didn't. It sprinkled on and off though the afternoon/evening but nothing substantial. Once the sun went down though, the lightning really picked up.
I wish I could have gotten a picture of it for you, because it was breathtaking, but I didn't. *Shame* It was that really particular kind of lightning that sort of spiders across the sky. It almost looked like the sky had hands for a while there.
Well today was much the same, it was sunnier during the day, but still humid and heavy. We were supposed to get some serious thunderstorms, but they missed us. If you were still here you would have gotten to see the best of it. Apparently there was a tornado, or at least a 'severe thunderstorm with a rotating updraft characteristic of a tornado' that blew through AJ/east mesa and down along the Salt River. We were put under a tornado warning none-the-less.
Here is a terrible picture of the lightning tonight, which was not nearly as pretty, and was, for the most part obscured by puffy clouds.
That's all the excitement I've got for you. ET (collectively, E&T on their own, lol) is heading over tonight, hopefully since we haven't seen Miss T since pride...PRIDE! It's been like 6 months?! Sheesh...we're making ceviche (I'll post the recipe for you later tonight for you I pinky-promise).
Song of the day is by Sissy Bar. Never mind the odd video, it's literally the only thing I could find on the whole entire interwebs with this song on it. You're going to have to cope.
"There's a dream in the back of my mind
Across the tracks is where I'll find my
Dreamy trailer pretty trailer
Dreamy trailer pretty trailer
Stale donuts in the den
My common stove is broke broke down
Neighbor neighbor call the neighbor
We'll have dinner in the trailor
And if you find a place
Double wide for extra space
Plywood Astroturf for a happy place
You've found my dream"
Friday, September 9, 2011
Songs of the days!
Ugh. I owe you two...I owe you my SOUL............or something like it.
but this is all I've got right now.
Guess it will have to do. Love you!
but this is all I've got right now.
Guess it will have to do. Love you!
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Down the Other Side of Manic....
...Is a terrible place.
It really is.
This is where I would tell you all about it. (Insert crazy LittleFoot story here). But my computer privileges are being revoked! GAH! and/or BLAST!
Goose just recently arrived home to find the house a mess. (Various stages of laundry strewn about, cat box not put back in the bathtub where the dog couldn't get at it, dog munching on the cat poo buffet, homework...oh the homework! Everywhere! You get the picture.) Anyway here I am, trying to write to you about my most recent mental breakdown when she comes home to this...mess...sighs and asks me what happened.
Well I gave her the 'my soul is dead' face and all was forgiven.
Then it all
went
wrong.
Goose: Why are you on my computer?
LittleFoot: Mine's dead.
Goose: Where's the charger?
LittleFoot: In the bathroom. I took a bath.
Goose: You couldn't go get it?
LittleFoot: Nope. Broken.
Goose: Poor lovie! I'll get it for you
(^isn't she so freakin' sweet?!)
LittleFoot: Thanks Goosie!
Goose: Put a movie on my computer, please.
LittleFoot: I can't I'm updating my BLOG
That last bit MAY have somehow come out of my mouth. Worse yet, it MAY have sounded a bit like Napoleon Dynamite should have said it. There also MAY have been an audible eye roll and an obligatory "GOSH".
It's hard to say what really might have happened.
Goose stopped dead in her tracks.
Turned around.
Opened her mouth.
"Oh my GOD! YOU ARE SUCH A NERD! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT!!! UGH! TERRIBLE! WHY ARE WE EVEN MARRIED?! NEVER SAY THAT... EVER AGAIN. GOD. JEEZE...YOU...SICK IDIOT"!!! UGH
It was pretty funny.
Okay, really funny.
In fact, if I had a nervous sphincter I believe I would have peed myself.
Also, whenever I hear the word sphincter all I can think about is your mom.
(Because she used to sing the sphincter spasm song, remember?)
*lovelovelove*
It really is.
This is where I would tell you all about it. (Insert crazy LittleFoot story here). But my computer privileges are being revoked! GAH! and/or BLAST!
Goose just recently arrived home to find the house a mess. (Various stages of laundry strewn about, cat box not put back in the bathtub where the dog couldn't get at it, dog munching on the cat poo buffet, homework...oh the homework! Everywhere! You get the picture.) Anyway here I am, trying to write to you about my most recent mental breakdown when she comes home to this...mess...sighs and asks me what happened.
Well I gave her the 'my soul is dead' face and all was forgiven.
Then it all
went
wrong.
Goose: Why are you on my computer?
LittleFoot: Mine's dead.
Goose: Where's the charger?
LittleFoot: In the bathroom. I took a bath.
Goose: You couldn't go get it?
LittleFoot: Nope. Broken.
Goose: Poor lovie! I'll get it for you
(^isn't she so freakin' sweet?!)
LittleFoot: Thanks Goosie!
Goose: Put a movie on my computer, please.
LittleFoot: I can't I'm updating my BLOG
That last bit MAY have somehow come out of my mouth. Worse yet, it MAY have sounded a bit like Napoleon Dynamite should have said it. There also MAY have been an audible eye roll and an obligatory "GOSH".
It's hard to say what really might have happened.
Goose stopped dead in her tracks.
Turned around.
Opened her mouth.
"Oh my GOD! YOU ARE SUCH A NERD! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU JUST SAID THAT!!! UGH! TERRIBLE! WHY ARE WE EVEN MARRIED?! NEVER SAY THAT... EVER AGAIN. GOD. JEEZE...YOU...SICK IDIOT"!!! UGH
It was pretty funny.
Okay, really funny.
In fact, if I had a nervous sphincter I believe I would have peed myself.
Also, whenever I hear the word sphincter all I can think about is your mom.
(Because she used to sing the sphincter spasm song, remember?)
*lovelovelove*
Song of the Day!
Now, even as I post this, I'm aware that this song is average at best. Not bad, but not particularly striking. (I suppose that's my way of saying, it's not Hole, but it will do.)
It is however, stuck in my head.
That paired with that bitter little strumpet prancing around in her unds makes worth the post. Yeah, I know, I can be way too easy to please. However, there's nothing quite like super skinny ladies in too much eye make up with scowls on their faces.
It says, b*tch- do you have any idea how hungry I am? I'll cut you!
Amazing.
As a rule, I don't mess with skinny girls or vegans. There's something dark and primal that evolves out of depriving yourself of food. Even if it's only on a small scale.
For serious.
Take away my breakfast kit-kat and see what happens.
I dare you. ;)
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Monday, September 5, 2011
This one's for you.
I was going to post CC's Amy Hit the Atmosphere, which is probably the only song of theirs I like more than this one, but I posted this one for you instead. Mostly because this was the first long weekend we've spent without you and your absence was painfully evident all day.
Today was full of all sorts of not-very-interesting events.
The people who live above us inexplicably slashed up a bunch of couch pillows and threw them off their balcony onto our porch...and then refused to pick them up.
We in turn refused to pick them up for the better part of the day, at one point standing amidst the mess looking up at them with a 'we saw you do this' look, but nope. Nothing. Incredulous-ness. So Goose threw them away. She's a better person than I am.
Later one of our other neighbors was frantically digging though the dumpster after his kid accidentally threw away his keys. Luckily the dumpster was mostly empty.
Once goose threw her phone away with the dirty cat litter. Since this was shortly after the great fall down the stairs, Goose couldn't climb in so she got the job of calling the phone from the outside the dumpster while I got to climb in and dig through the days muck to locate the phone.
Needless to say I felt for the guy, but Goose said she'd already asked him if he needed help and he said no. I'm a little skeptical of that answer, but I was already inside and the dumpster seemed so far away. *lazy*
Later on I went a little bit crazy over the latest stupid facebook breast cancer game, which 1. isn't funny and 2. fails to raise awareness of anything except stupidity, and got up on my soapbox in the living room all by myself for a good 10 minutes. Sadly there were no witnesses, it was pretty awesome.
Mittens has been compulsively sniffing me and Goose is covered in mosquito bites. Oh, and I've been diligently avoiding writing the paper that's due tomorrow at noon.
That's pretty much it. It's just life. It goes. On and on. Apparently forever.
*love*
Sunday, September 4, 2011
"What the F is that?" Episode 1.
Well Dear Friend...today Goose left for work and I tried to busy myself with my homework like a good girl, but the persistent mumbling of my belly was distracting.
So I got up.
I paced around the kitchen.
I dug around in all the cabinets.
And then I decided nothing looked good.
What's a girl to do?
COOK THINGS! (I exclaim, in my greatest superhero voice/stance).
Yes. Yes...
Clearly I am a genius.
Now, I know that you know, from many-a-holiday spent together, that cooking is one of those things that I do well.
Or I like to think I do well and you are kind enough to humor me.
I'm comfortable with either answer. ;)
But the origins of many of those recipes we all love so dearly are a little sketchy.
Like what I created today.
Let me preface this by saying we are in dire need of a trip to the market. DIRE NEED. Our fridge is mostly full of condiments and beer at this point, and the remnants of our last shopping trip. (A couple of random fruits, some spinach, cilantro, a hand full of sugar snap peas and cheese). Yeah, yeah, I know... whatever.
Anyway Goose had thawed chicken for dinner and was planning on doing something with it when she got home. I however was leery after the 'pan chicken' incident earlier this week. While Goose is a VERY good little cook, but when things go wrong, they really really go wrong. This was one of those times. It took me two days to get the taste of pan out of my mouth. Bleck.
Clearly I needed to take matters into my own hands.
I dug around and found a recipe I was working on years ago, you know, when I had the time to work on things. Anyway it was for something called Caribbean Pineapple Chicken. I don't like cooked pineapple, but that was beside the point. It was on.
I began by draining a can of pineapple chunks and saving the juice. The chunks went into a pan with some coconut oil to brown. (I LOVE coconut oil, I use it for everything. EVERYTHING. I even put it on my face every night before bed to keep it from breaking out.)
While that was happening I cut up the chicken (5 chicken cutlets, like chicken fingers I guess) into LittleFoot sized pieces. (Like 1 inch cubes.) Then I thoroughly coated them in garlic salt and onion powder. Seriously. Coat the dang things. Don't sprinkle, don't lightly toss with, COAT THEM in it, and then toss them with bread crumbs. (The original recipe said to dredge in flour, but I didn't have any, so this is me making due)
When the pineapple is done remove it from the pan and set it aside. Add more coconut oil to the pan without rinsing, and then add the chicken.
While the chicken was browning I set to work trying to concoct a sauce. The sauce from my original recipe was not going to work as I was missing the majority of the ingredients, but I tried to run with the original concept.
In a cup I mixed equal parts soy sauce and honey. I really wish I had remembered we had miso in the fridge, but alas, I did not. There was also a minor issue with the honey (I'm a honey snob, I know I KNOW, sheesh) as I was down to the bottom of several jars. So in the end I ended up using a mixture of really sugary dense cactus honey and raw (whole) organic honey. I don't know how much. Some, probably about two big tablespoons (total, as in between both of the honeys), if I were measuring I'd probably go with 3 just to be safe. To that I added the juice of two limes, about a cup of water, a quarter cup or so of pineapple juice, some cracked black pepper, and some cilantro.
This both looked and smelled really sketchy.
I mixed that together really well and once the chicken had browned I added it to the pan. I cooked it on medium low heat, just barely above a simmer for a long time. Really it only needs to cook about 12-15 minutes to cook the chicken though, I was just tinkering in the interim, so I left it on there for a while longer.
Anyway, about oh, maybe 20 minutes in, I realized I probably needed a thickening agent for my sauce. I searched around for something, anything to do the trick, but alas, all the flour and cornstarch had been lost to pantry weevels or whatever those tiny little evil black bugs are, during the great pantry disaster of July 2011. I pondered adding all sorts of things to this, really I did. (At one point I was even considering potatoes, but the thought of it made my stomach turn.) Then I remembered, in the back of the fridge, in an unlabeled tupperware container was the answer to my prayers. Almond meal.
Now, I don't know if almond meal is supposed to be used as a thickening agent, per-say, but I figure if I can substitute it for flour sometimes then it's good enough for me. So I put some, maybe about a tablespoon or so, into the pan and mixed it around. I added the pineapple chunks back into the pan, and left it to thicken and reduce.
I let the sauce reduce until it was almost gone, then added a little bit more pineapple juice, maybe about two tablespoons or so, scraped all the stuff off the bottom of the pan, and let it reduce again.
I served it to myself on jasmine rice with sugar snap peas and spinach (I also eat spinach with everything.) It was still looking a bit odd, and I had refrained from tasting it during this whole process. Both because I was afraid this coagulated honey/pineapple/soy sauce mess would be terrible, and also because I like to see how well my brain can put ingredients together without the benefit of taste testing. (Or maybe I like to be withholding, you know, whatever.)
But I sat down, plate of mystery chicken in front of me, and faced the monster I had made. I took one, fateful bite. And let me just tell you, it was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. Even better than my coconut infused, roasted brussels sprouts. IF you can believe that.
You have
NO.
IDEA.
Currently I am awaiting Gooses' triumphant return home from work so that I can get some feed back OTHER than my own.
(But seriously, it's practically Mana from Heaven.)
Here is a picture.
Please be jealous.
(I love you!)
[Edit] Goose came home and after the first bite, rated it a 9/10. Somewhere around the 3rd bite she changed her rating to a 15/10. And about half way through her plate, while she was forgetting to breathe between bites she rated it a 20/10. Which is a big win for me. Yay!
Hooray for food, hooray for food adventures, hooray for kitchen fun!
So I got up.
I paced around the kitchen.
I dug around in all the cabinets.
And then I decided nothing looked good.
What's a girl to do?
COOK THINGS! (I exclaim, in my greatest superhero voice/stance).
Yes. Yes...
Clearly I am a genius.
Now, I know that you know, from many-a-holiday spent together, that cooking is one of those things that I do well.
Or I like to think I do well and you are kind enough to humor me.
I'm comfortable with either answer. ;)
But the origins of many of those recipes we all love so dearly are a little sketchy.
Like what I created today.
Let me preface this by saying we are in dire need of a trip to the market. DIRE NEED. Our fridge is mostly full of condiments and beer at this point, and the remnants of our last shopping trip. (A couple of random fruits, some spinach, cilantro, a hand full of sugar snap peas and cheese). Yeah, yeah, I know... whatever.
Anyway Goose had thawed chicken for dinner and was planning on doing something with it when she got home. I however was leery after the 'pan chicken' incident earlier this week. While Goose is a VERY good little cook, but when things go wrong, they really really go wrong. This was one of those times. It took me two days to get the taste of pan out of my mouth. Bleck.
Clearly I needed to take matters into my own hands.
I dug around and found a recipe I was working on years ago, you know, when I had the time to work on things. Anyway it was for something called Caribbean Pineapple Chicken. I don't like cooked pineapple, but that was beside the point. It was on.
I began by draining a can of pineapple chunks and saving the juice. The chunks went into a pan with some coconut oil to brown. (I LOVE coconut oil, I use it for everything. EVERYTHING. I even put it on my face every night before bed to keep it from breaking out.)
While that was happening I cut up the chicken (5 chicken cutlets, like chicken fingers I guess) into LittleFoot sized pieces. (Like 1 inch cubes.) Then I thoroughly coated them in garlic salt and onion powder. Seriously. Coat the dang things. Don't sprinkle, don't lightly toss with, COAT THEM in it, and then toss them with bread crumbs. (The original recipe said to dredge in flour, but I didn't have any, so this is me making due)
When the pineapple is done remove it from the pan and set it aside. Add more coconut oil to the pan without rinsing, and then add the chicken.
While the chicken was browning I set to work trying to concoct a sauce. The sauce from my original recipe was not going to work as I was missing the majority of the ingredients, but I tried to run with the original concept.
In a cup I mixed equal parts soy sauce and honey. I really wish I had remembered we had miso in the fridge, but alas, I did not. There was also a minor issue with the honey (I'm a honey snob, I know I KNOW, sheesh) as I was down to the bottom of several jars. So in the end I ended up using a mixture of really sugary dense cactus honey and raw (whole) organic honey. I don't know how much. Some, probably about two big tablespoons (total, as in between both of the honeys), if I were measuring I'd probably go with 3 just to be safe. To that I added the juice of two limes, about a cup of water, a quarter cup or so of pineapple juice, some cracked black pepper, and some cilantro.
This both looked and smelled really sketchy.
I mixed that together really well and once the chicken had browned I added it to the pan. I cooked it on medium low heat, just barely above a simmer for a long time. Really it only needs to cook about 12-15 minutes to cook the chicken though, I was just tinkering in the interim, so I left it on there for a while longer.
Anyway, about oh, maybe 20 minutes in, I realized I probably needed a thickening agent for my sauce. I searched around for something, anything to do the trick, but alas, all the flour and cornstarch had been lost to pantry weevels or whatever those tiny little evil black bugs are, during the great pantry disaster of July 2011. I pondered adding all sorts of things to this, really I did. (At one point I was even considering potatoes, but the thought of it made my stomach turn.) Then I remembered, in the back of the fridge, in an unlabeled tupperware container was the answer to my prayers. Almond meal.
Now, I don't know if almond meal is supposed to be used as a thickening agent, per-say, but I figure if I can substitute it for flour sometimes then it's good enough for me. So I put some, maybe about a tablespoon or so, into the pan and mixed it around. I added the pineapple chunks back into the pan, and left it to thicken and reduce.
I let the sauce reduce until it was almost gone, then added a little bit more pineapple juice, maybe about two tablespoons or so, scraped all the stuff off the bottom of the pan, and let it reduce again.
I served it to myself on jasmine rice with sugar snap peas and spinach (I also eat spinach with everything.) It was still looking a bit odd, and I had refrained from tasting it during this whole process. Both because I was afraid this coagulated honey/pineapple/soy sauce mess would be terrible, and also because I like to see how well my brain can put ingredients together without the benefit of taste testing. (Or maybe I like to be withholding, you know, whatever.)
But I sat down, plate of mystery chicken in front of me, and faced the monster I had made. I took one, fateful bite. And let me just tell you, it was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing I have ever eaten. Even better than my coconut infused, roasted brussels sprouts. IF you can believe that.
You have
NO.
IDEA.
Currently I am awaiting Gooses' triumphant return home from work so that I can get some feed back OTHER than my own.
(But seriously, it's practically Mana from Heaven.)
Here is a picture.
Please be jealous.
(I love you!)
[Edit] Goose came home and after the first bite, rated it a 9/10. Somewhere around the 3rd bite she changed her rating to a 15/10. And about half way through her plate, while she was forgetting to breathe between bites she rated it a 20/10. Which is a big win for me. Yay!
Hooray for food, hooray for food adventures, hooray for kitchen fun!
Saturday, September 3, 2011
Murphy's Law and Holiday Weekends.
OR Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. However you'd like to read it.
It all started way too early yesterday morning. I was up as usual before the sun, and stumbled into work, arms out in front of me, mumbling 'brains...brainssss....' or 'coffeee'. It's hard to say which...
But it was Friday, beautiful, beautiful Friday. Even better a half work day Friday. And one overlooking a three day weekend no less.
Well I downed an obscene amount of coffee, had a poorly planned breakfast of string cheese, a white nectarine, pretzels, and a couple spoon fulls of peanut butter, and dug into the overnight issues.
And that's where it all started to go awry.
To make a long story short, all of the tiny details of my day, the ones that make life livable? Yeah, all that stuff went wrong. Census was maxed out, which meant I would have to work all day Sunday. The system was touch and go for most of the day. The fire marshal showed up. ALL of the elevators broke. The maintenance men were off for the weekend. I dropped a case of surgical soap. There were no paper towels in the dispenser. The list goes on.
I spent some time tottering on the verge of tears as my 4 hour shift morphed into a 9 hour one, paranoid, jittery, trying to figure out what would go wrong next.
In the end, I set aside what I couldn't finish and went home, knowing I would have to get up early today to go back in and finish it all.
Lucky for me Goose is SO wonderful. She had a chocolate bar in her hand when she met me, and ceviche and roasted brussels sprouts waiting for me on the table. She totally salvaged what was left of my day. I don't know what I'd do without her, but I'm pretty sure I'd have wild hair and would spend a lot of time muttering nervously to myself under my breath.
Today hasn't been much better, but I suppose it takes time for the little things to right themselves after going so catastrophically wrong. Goose has been taking very good care of me. We've been lounging on the couch, working on homework, watching FMA, so really I have nothing to complain about.
It was a long day, it was miserable, but it's over. The sun came up. And I survived.
Song of the Day is:
It all started way too early yesterday morning. I was up as usual before the sun, and stumbled into work, arms out in front of me, mumbling 'brains...brainssss....' or 'coffeee'. It's hard to say which...
But it was Friday, beautiful, beautiful Friday. Even better a half work day Friday. And one overlooking a three day weekend no less.
Well I downed an obscene amount of coffee, had a poorly planned breakfast of string cheese, a white nectarine, pretzels, and a couple spoon fulls of peanut butter, and dug into the overnight issues.
And that's where it all started to go awry.
To make a long story short, all of the tiny details of my day, the ones that make life livable? Yeah, all that stuff went wrong. Census was maxed out, which meant I would have to work all day Sunday. The system was touch and go for most of the day. The fire marshal showed up. ALL of the elevators broke. The maintenance men were off for the weekend. I dropped a case of surgical soap. There were no paper towels in the dispenser. The list goes on.
I spent some time tottering on the verge of tears as my 4 hour shift morphed into a 9 hour one, paranoid, jittery, trying to figure out what would go wrong next.
In the end, I set aside what I couldn't finish and went home, knowing I would have to get up early today to go back in and finish it all.
Lucky for me Goose is SO wonderful. She had a chocolate bar in her hand when she met me, and ceviche and roasted brussels sprouts waiting for me on the table. She totally salvaged what was left of my day. I don't know what I'd do without her, but I'm pretty sure I'd have wild hair and would spend a lot of time muttering nervously to myself under my breath.
Today hasn't been much better, but I suppose it takes time for the little things to right themselves after going so catastrophically wrong. Goose has been taking very good care of me. We've been lounging on the couch, working on homework, watching FMA, so really I have nothing to complain about.
It was a long day, it was miserable, but it's over. The sun came up. And I survived.
Song of the Day is:
Friday, September 2, 2011
Song of the Day!
(Before I forget!!)
Also, I could totally live off string cheese and brussels sprouts.
Just so we're clear on that. :)
Also, I could totally live off string cheese and brussels sprouts.
Just so we're clear on that. :)
Waking up is hard to do,
Don't take my sleep
Away from me
Don't you leave my brain
In agony
'Cause if you do
Then I'll be blue
'Cause waking up is hard to do
They say that waking up is hard to do
Now I know, I know that it's true
Don't say that this is the end
Instead of waking up I wish that I could fall asleep again!
Yeah, that's right, I'm singing my own morning song...to the tune of The Carpenters. I regularly sing my own version of Carly Simon's 'You're so Vain' too... except I sing 'You're so Gay' mostly because I am. Also because it's funny. Anyway.
Mornings and I, we are not friends.
Especially when I sleep poorly the night before.
Sometime, as the clock was striking three this morning, Oscar, who could win an award for least graceful cat ever, was trying to get from the top of the cat tree to the top of the window in our bedroom. The problem is he's a BIG cat, the ledge is only about 2 inches across and probably can't support his weight. What followed was a lot of racket. The swat-swat-scraping of cat feet/claws on the vertical blinds. The thunderous crashing of him failing to summit the window and clinging for dear life to the curtain rod with one hand, and the cat tree with one foot. The thud-thump of poor chubby cat man hitting the ground. I don't know what got into him, he doesn't even like heights. . . but I do suspect Mittens was egging him on. She's got such a suspicious face.
An hour or so later I woke up to the dog puking on me.
ugh.
So with that ridiculousness behind me I'm just dragging my butt, trying to get to a point where my legs can move on their own accord without me having to will them to take each step. *laughs*
Here are some pictures of Beast 1 and Beast 2.
(Mittens)
(Oscar)
And here's a song for Yesterday: (Thursdays are going to be my downfall!)
Away from me
Don't you leave my brain
In agony
'Cause if you do
Then I'll be blue
'Cause waking up is hard to do
They say that waking up is hard to do
Now I know, I know that it's true
Don't say that this is the end
Instead of waking up I wish that I could fall asleep again!
Yeah, that's right, I'm singing my own morning song...to the tune of The Carpenters. I regularly sing my own version of Carly Simon's 'You're so Vain' too... except I sing 'You're so Gay' mostly because I am. Also because it's funny. Anyway.
Mornings and I, we are not friends.
Especially when I sleep poorly the night before.
Sometime, as the clock was striking three this morning, Oscar, who could win an award for least graceful cat ever, was trying to get from the top of the cat tree to the top of the window in our bedroom. The problem is he's a BIG cat, the ledge is only about 2 inches across and probably can't support his weight. What followed was a lot of racket. The swat-swat-scraping of cat feet/claws on the vertical blinds. The thunderous crashing of him failing to summit the window and clinging for dear life to the curtain rod with one hand, and the cat tree with one foot. The thud-thump of poor chubby cat man hitting the ground. I don't know what got into him, he doesn't even like heights. . . but I do suspect Mittens was egging him on. She's got such a suspicious face.
An hour or so later I woke up to the dog puking on me.
ugh.
So with that ridiculousness behind me I'm just dragging my butt, trying to get to a point where my legs can move on their own accord without me having to will them to take each step. *laughs*
Here are some pictures of Beast 1 and Beast 2.
(Mittens)
(Oscar)
And here's a song for Yesterday: (Thursdays are going to be my downfall!)
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