I love playing DJ far away. This is my all time favorite Yeah Yeah Yeahs song. Enjoy :)
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
In the trenches.
Psh. Today was war. War I say. I spent it in the trenches from the moment I woke up. Exhausted. Bleary-eyed. Starving. I stumbled to work and proceeded to watch the world unravel in my hands.
The devil is in the details Dear Friend.
Really and truly.
I don't even remember the little things that were going wrong today. All I know is that it was ridiculous. I do know at one point I was sitting on the floor in the bathroom at work crying to myself because I COULD NOT get my shoe back on for the life of me. They're not complicated shoes, they're 2 sizes too big and I wear them every day. But for some reason today getting them on was impossible. My foot would not go. I know, I don't understand it either. It's not like it's a square peg in a round hole kind of deal. It's a foot shaped foot for the foot shaped shoe. Oh well.
I don't know.
I don't know anything.
But I'm home now, and not at all dead. Tomorrow will be better. I can feel it in my bones.
The devil is in the details Dear Friend.
Really and truly.
I don't even remember the little things that were going wrong today. All I know is that it was ridiculous. I do know at one point I was sitting on the floor in the bathroom at work crying to myself because I COULD NOT get my shoe back on for the life of me. They're not complicated shoes, they're 2 sizes too big and I wear them every day. But for some reason today getting them on was impossible. My foot would not go. I know, I don't understand it either. It's not like it's a square peg in a round hole kind of deal. It's a foot shaped foot for the foot shaped shoe. Oh well.
I don't know.
I don't know anything.
But I'm home now, and not at all dead. Tomorrow will be better. I can feel it in my bones.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Radio Silence
I know, I've failed at keeping you abreast of life in the desert this week and for that I'm sorry. I took a long break from life this weekend, for no reason in particular. But it was nice.
Friday's shindig came and went. It was lovely and quiet, and filled with food. Your absence was palpable, but we survived. Currently we're drowning in leftovers.
We went shopping at midnight Thursday for Black Friday which was great fun. We spent an hour, maybe two in line to get in, got everything we wanted, and then spent another hour in line to check out. Totally worth it by the way.
Saturday I had to work all day. It was lame and there was a lot to do. I went home and spent the evening parked on the sofa with Goose. Later that night, as I watched the sweet puppy sleeping on her chair, it occurred to me that her nails needed trimming and now was the perfect opportunity. She was asleep, practically drunk on turkey, and she wouldn't even notice.
Goose got up and brought me the nail clippers, which are HUGE, in case you haven't seen them, because Emery has feet like a Great Dane. Goose wandered off into the back of the house somewhere and I did my best to sneak up on the dog. Somewhere along the way I lost my footing, twisted my ankle and crashed to the ground.
I felt a sharp and distinct pain. A sort of meaty feeling. And then looked down at my hand. Somehow I had fallen onto the nail clippers which had in turn removed a quarter of my fingernail. It took out a whole quadrant. The rip goes straight down the center of my nail and then sideways across the half way point.
It took what seemed like forever to start bleeding, but bleed it did. I sat on the floor, mostly in shock, pinching the crap out of my wounded digit, waiting quietly for Goose to return and/or for it to stop bleeding.
Then something strange happened. As I looked down at my mangled finger the world started to spin. Life got all swirly and unbearably warm. I started to sweat. My stomach started to twist around and my vision started to fade out.
Goose returned and all I could manage to say was 'help'. I don't know how to impress upon you what a strange experience this was. The wound itself didn't hurt AT ALL, aside from the initial sharp pinch. Once it was done it just felt....meaty. Not painful at all, but gross in that way that only ripped off fingernails can feel.
Goose went and retrieved the first aid kit. She went to clean my hand up and I decided that was probably a bad idea. Missing fingernails feel gross enough without other people touching them, plus control freak as I am, relinquishing control of the situation was not high on my priority list. She opened the alcohol wipes and as I went to put it on my finger the room got hot, my head got all spin-y and I desperately needed a puke bucket.
I don't know why this particular injury bothered me, I've ripped entire nails off before and survived without needing to pass out, but this one, for whatever reason was not jiving with conscious Little Foot. I spent the next 20 minutes or so alternating between throwing up and lying on the bathroom floor praying for death. I really really loathe vomiting.
I returned to the living room, looking more shell-shocked than ever, and notified Goose in the creepy calm voice that I was, for whatever reason, unable to look at my finger (let alone clean or bandage it) without passing out. I don't know why, it wasn't even that bad, it made no rational sense, but nonetheless here we were. And so I sat quietly while she cleaned my finger as best she could. The nail, while totally severed from the nail bed, is still connected at the far side and there was no way we were going to trim it that night.
So my finger remains bandaged. It is gross. It feels all meaty. And I bump it on everything.
Also, for the record, I've had a lot of gross injuries, and the only other one that ever made me throw up/pass out was when I was in the seventh grade, riding on the rack on the back of a friends bike and I got my foot stuck in the tire. My foot was really grossly mangled all the way down to the bone and bits of my shoe were stuck in it. But even that reaction wasn't as bad as this. My brain was not happy about this fingernail business.
Not at all.
Lots of love.
I'll have songs for you later.
Hope your weekend was lovely.
Friday's shindig came and went. It was lovely and quiet, and filled with food. Your absence was palpable, but we survived. Currently we're drowning in leftovers.
We went shopping at midnight Thursday for Black Friday which was great fun. We spent an hour, maybe two in line to get in, got everything we wanted, and then spent another hour in line to check out. Totally worth it by the way.
Saturday I had to work all day. It was lame and there was a lot to do. I went home and spent the evening parked on the sofa with Goose. Later that night, as I watched the sweet puppy sleeping on her chair, it occurred to me that her nails needed trimming and now was the perfect opportunity. She was asleep, practically drunk on turkey, and she wouldn't even notice.
Goose got up and brought me the nail clippers, which are HUGE, in case you haven't seen them, because Emery has feet like a Great Dane. Goose wandered off into the back of the house somewhere and I did my best to sneak up on the dog. Somewhere along the way I lost my footing, twisted my ankle and crashed to the ground.
I felt a sharp and distinct pain. A sort of meaty feeling. And then looked down at my hand. Somehow I had fallen onto the nail clippers which had in turn removed a quarter of my fingernail. It took out a whole quadrant. The rip goes straight down the center of my nail and then sideways across the half way point.
It took what seemed like forever to start bleeding, but bleed it did. I sat on the floor, mostly in shock, pinching the crap out of my wounded digit, waiting quietly for Goose to return and/or for it to stop bleeding.
Then something strange happened. As I looked down at my mangled finger the world started to spin. Life got all swirly and unbearably warm. I started to sweat. My stomach started to twist around and my vision started to fade out.
Goose returned and all I could manage to say was 'help'. I don't know how to impress upon you what a strange experience this was. The wound itself didn't hurt AT ALL, aside from the initial sharp pinch. Once it was done it just felt....meaty. Not painful at all, but gross in that way that only ripped off fingernails can feel.
Goose went and retrieved the first aid kit. She went to clean my hand up and I decided that was probably a bad idea. Missing fingernails feel gross enough without other people touching them, plus control freak as I am, relinquishing control of the situation was not high on my priority list. She opened the alcohol wipes and as I went to put it on my finger the room got hot, my head got all spin-y and I desperately needed a puke bucket.
I don't know why this particular injury bothered me, I've ripped entire nails off before and survived without needing to pass out, but this one, for whatever reason was not jiving with conscious Little Foot. I spent the next 20 minutes or so alternating between throwing up and lying on the bathroom floor praying for death. I really really loathe vomiting.
I returned to the living room, looking more shell-shocked than ever, and notified Goose in the creepy calm voice that I was, for whatever reason, unable to look at my finger (let alone clean or bandage it) without passing out. I don't know why, it wasn't even that bad, it made no rational sense, but nonetheless here we were. And so I sat quietly while she cleaned my finger as best she could. The nail, while totally severed from the nail bed, is still connected at the far side and there was no way we were going to trim it that night.
So my finger remains bandaged. It is gross. It feels all meaty. And I bump it on everything.
Also, for the record, I've had a lot of gross injuries, and the only other one that ever made me throw up/pass out was when I was in the seventh grade, riding on the rack on the back of a friends bike and I got my foot stuck in the tire. My foot was really grossly mangled all the way down to the bone and bits of my shoe were stuck in it. But even that reaction wasn't as bad as this. My brain was not happy about this fingernail business.
Not at all.
Lots of love.
I'll have songs for you later.
Hope your weekend was lovely.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
T-Day
Oh Friend! What a week it's' been.
Today I had dinner with the family. Dear Sister is crazy. Balls-to-the-wall totally just nutso. She tried telling me that I needed to watch Ancient Aliens because what I'm learning in school isn't the 'truth'. Apparently there's the real truth, (which as it happens is the TV truth) and the truth they want me to believe. Who knew all I needed was a conspiracy theory TV show to show me the light? I sure didn't. She also pointed out that I was failing the 'movement' that's the Occupy Whatever movement (which, like all things political, I am actively ignoring) by shopping tomorrow. That's when THEY want me to shop, apparently. I asked who this cryptic THEY was she told me 'the corporations, duh', to which I replied, I'm pretty sure they want me to shop every day. DUH. I'm not sure when exactly her brain turned to jello, but jello it is. Besides, $10 jeans? Yes please, says the poor college student. Crowds be damned, there just aren't that many days out of the year when I can afford to shop anywhere other than Goodwill.
Our big dinner is tomorrow, which we have done exactly 0 prepping for. The house is trashed, every dish is dirty and we still have some grocery shopping to do. I'm really praying for a miracle, hoping against all hope that it comes together seamlessly somehow in the early morning hours. We've both been mopy. Glooming about the house dreading the holiday season. Totally lost at your absence. We both figured you'd have come home by now. We don't know how you're surviving, but we're proud of your staying power. We both would have turned tail and ran by now. So we're impressed, but also sad. Mostly in a selfish sort of why aren't you here/what about us sort of way. Please forgive our selfishness. We just love you tons.
Ugh. That's all for now. More later. Lots of love.
Today I had dinner with the family. Dear Sister is crazy. Balls-to-the-wall totally just nutso. She tried telling me that I needed to watch Ancient Aliens because what I'm learning in school isn't the 'truth'. Apparently there's the real truth, (which as it happens is the TV truth) and the truth they want me to believe. Who knew all I needed was a conspiracy theory TV show to show me the light? I sure didn't. She also pointed out that I was failing the 'movement' that's the Occupy Whatever movement (which, like all things political, I am actively ignoring) by shopping tomorrow. That's when THEY want me to shop, apparently. I asked who this cryptic THEY was she told me 'the corporations, duh', to which I replied, I'm pretty sure they want me to shop every day. DUH. I'm not sure when exactly her brain turned to jello, but jello it is. Besides, $10 jeans? Yes please, says the poor college student. Crowds be damned, there just aren't that many days out of the year when I can afford to shop anywhere other than Goodwill.
Our big dinner is tomorrow, which we have done exactly 0 prepping for. The house is trashed, every dish is dirty and we still have some grocery shopping to do. I'm really praying for a miracle, hoping against all hope that it comes together seamlessly somehow in the early morning hours. We've both been mopy. Glooming about the house dreading the holiday season. Totally lost at your absence. We both figured you'd have come home by now. We don't know how you're surviving, but we're proud of your staying power. We both would have turned tail and ran by now. So we're impressed, but also sad. Mostly in a selfish sort of why aren't you here/what about us sort of way. Please forgive our selfishness. We just love you tons.
Ugh. That's all for now. More later. Lots of love.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Gooses song of the day!
So I'm pretty sure I just won the song of the month award because this song kicks major ass, its has stop motion, body paint, and a pretty lady. Yep I win.
Love and Stuff,
Goose.
Love and Stuff,
Goose.
Monday, November 21, 2011
3 For You, As Requested.
Oh Dear Friend, I am just restless this week. We managed to get the grocery shopping for the big day done this weekend, though we both unloaded it all feeling a little nauseous. Hard to believe you've been gone so long, or that we'll somehow really be forced to face the holidays without you. I've been telling myself for months now that this day wouldn't come. That the world would just stop turning, that time would reach some horizontal asymptote and though we'd approach Thanksgiving, we would never really reach it.
There's still time for that though I suppose, so in the mean time my fingers are crossed. I'm also dragging my feet to a ridiculous degree. We've laid down no concrete plans. No timeline for festivities, or even really nailed down a guest list. What we have done is bought a shit-ton of food, so I guess that's our ticking clock. Gotta cook it before it goes bad I suppose.
BAH! Humbug and things! Or so I say!
In other news:
Goose's fish are constipated and I've been feeding them peas in a seemingly futile attempt to relieve the bloating.
I made my first ever soup last night-pumpkin! Yep, pumpkin soup. It was pretty good, but a little heavy on the carrots/garlic and a little light on the pumpkin. Goose was not a fan, even though she's refusing to admit it. She took one bite and then politely told me she wasn't hungry. <-- hello captain obvious, we're all aware of what that means, and no, you're not fooling anyone. In the mean time I plan to make it for every meal until she just admits she doesn't like it.
I am still sore and exhausted and WAY overslept for work today as a result.
I am also terribly jealous of all the reading you're getting done. I've totally and completely stalled. At least in a literary sense. I'm reading, it's just all papers for research and that's just not the same. On that thread, how are you liking Reading Lolita in Tehran? I read it when I was in a rut and it reminded me how much I love reading. Weak-knees, doe-eyed kind of love. *sigh*
Well Dear Friend, that's all I've got. I hope you survive the week. I hope I survive it too. I hope work keeps you busy and sane rather than busy and insane, and I hope you're missing us just as much as we miss you. Take care, be good, call when you can.
P.S. You called today while I was in class. :( Boo. I didn't return it because I figured you'd already made it to work, BUT I was happy that you called! I'll catch you on the next go-round hopefully. Lots of Love.
There's still time for that though I suppose, so in the mean time my fingers are crossed. I'm also dragging my feet to a ridiculous degree. We've laid down no concrete plans. No timeline for festivities, or even really nailed down a guest list. What we have done is bought a shit-ton of food, so I guess that's our ticking clock. Gotta cook it before it goes bad I suppose.
BAH! Humbug and things! Or so I say!
In other news:
Goose's fish are constipated and I've been feeding them peas in a seemingly futile attempt to relieve the bloating.
I made my first ever soup last night-pumpkin! Yep, pumpkin soup. It was pretty good, but a little heavy on the carrots/garlic and a little light on the pumpkin. Goose was not a fan, even though she's refusing to admit it. She took one bite and then politely told me she wasn't hungry. <-- hello captain obvious, we're all aware of what that means, and no, you're not fooling anyone. In the mean time I plan to make it for every meal until she just admits she doesn't like it.
I am still sore and exhausted and WAY overslept for work today as a result.
I am also terribly jealous of all the reading you're getting done. I've totally and completely stalled. At least in a literary sense. I'm reading, it's just all papers for research and that's just not the same. On that thread, how are you liking Reading Lolita in Tehran? I read it when I was in a rut and it reminded me how much I love reading. Weak-knees, doe-eyed kind of love. *sigh*
Well Dear Friend, that's all I've got. I hope you survive the week. I hope I survive it too. I hope work keeps you busy and sane rather than busy and insane, and I hope you're missing us just as much as we miss you. Take care, be good, call when you can.
P.S. You called today while I was in class. :( Boo. I didn't return it because I figured you'd already made it to work, BUT I was happy that you called! I'll catch you on the next go-round hopefully. Lots of Love.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
mud slinging.
Oh Dear Friend,
I
Am
So
Sore.
Saturday morning I woke up bright and early to meet the crew of SWAT, AAS, and the MZMNH for some fun in the sun. I got there extra early due to nerves and a fear of being chastised for running on GST (That's Gay Standard Time, and it runs about an hour and ten minutes behind normal time).
I was the first one there other than the two overseeing the group. A few more people showed up, maybe three, and then we packed up our gear and headed out 'round the back of the ruins. We unloaded our gear and were given the run down; there are two kinds of mud we're using to fight erosion at the site. The first is a gravel/sand mixture which is used to fill holes, the second is a slurry of sand and screened dirt which is used for finishing. The purpose of all of this is to keep the parts of the site that were excavated in the 30's from weathering away. We do not touch anything that is not exposed, we are not looking to restore the sight to it's former glory, we are only preserving what is already exposed.
And with that we got to work. There was a big container, kind of like a pond you would sink into the ground and into it went about 200lbs of sand/gravel/dirt mix and water. That was then mixed by hand with a hoe until it was a nice smooth muddy consistency. It was then shoveled into buckets and taken to the people working on the walls.
Because I got there early I ended up mixing the mud since until the mud is mixed there's really nothing to do. Apparently mud mixing is NOT a desirable job. People began showing up about 45 minutes after the start time, grabbing the mud buckets and running off to the walls. Not that I blame them, mud making is really hard, exhausting, back breaking work. And it never stops. I mixed mud batches for five hours, sweaty and tired, and could not keep up with the demand. We made about 25ish batches, we even ran out of dirt and had to go gather more. It was intense.
At some point one of the leaders offered to relieve me of my mud duties, but the other girl who was working with me was having trouble breathing...allergies or something, so I told her to go. I really didn't mind. I enjoyed my mud duties, I really did, and it gave me a strange sort of perspective into what went into making the sight in the first place. I didn't show up to just do the fun stuff, and I'm not really the kind to pick and choose what is and is not important to learn. As far as I'm concerned, it's far better to know too much than too little. Besides, I was just grateful to be there.
After all the mud was gone and sun was high in the sky, myself and the other mudders started the clean up. Washing out the 50 or so mud buckets and the pond. What was really amazing was that as people finished up on the wall and came back with their buckets no one offered to wash their own. Instead they just set them next to the three of us that were scrubbing away and sat down. Now, I don't really care, I was having a good enough time with the two people I'd been working with all day, but it was strange. I know people have gotten lazy, or at least lazier over time, but it was really strange to see people who were so lucky to have gotten to work at the site, and who had volunteered for a day of hard labor to actively avoid the hard-work part. It's a sad state of affairs when a grown person can't even clean their own mud bucket.
The downside to the whole thing is that EVERY SINGLE muscle in my body is exacting revenge today. Everything I do is painful. Muscles are hurting that I didn't even know I had! But you know what? I'll be back every month to do it all over again. Even if I get stuck mixing the mud every single time. I can't tell you what I'm gaining from doing it, but I know that whatever it is, it's important. And hey, even if it's not, I'm still having fun.
I miss you Dear Friend. Someday I'll take you with me, I promise. You know, when you live somewhere less green. :) I hope things are well. Lots of love.
I
Am
So
Sore.
Saturday morning I woke up bright and early to meet the crew of SWAT, AAS, and the MZMNH for some fun in the sun. I got there extra early due to nerves and a fear of being chastised for running on GST (That's Gay Standard Time, and it runs about an hour and ten minutes behind normal time).
I was the first one there other than the two overseeing the group. A few more people showed up, maybe three, and then we packed up our gear and headed out 'round the back of the ruins. We unloaded our gear and were given the run down; there are two kinds of mud we're using to fight erosion at the site. The first is a gravel/sand mixture which is used to fill holes, the second is a slurry of sand and screened dirt which is used for finishing. The purpose of all of this is to keep the parts of the site that were excavated in the 30's from weathering away. We do not touch anything that is not exposed, we are not looking to restore the sight to it's former glory, we are only preserving what is already exposed.
And with that we got to work. There was a big container, kind of like a pond you would sink into the ground and into it went about 200lbs of sand/gravel/dirt mix and water. That was then mixed by hand with a hoe until it was a nice smooth muddy consistency. It was then shoveled into buckets and taken to the people working on the walls.
Because I got there early I ended up mixing the mud since until the mud is mixed there's really nothing to do. Apparently mud mixing is NOT a desirable job. People began showing up about 45 minutes after the start time, grabbing the mud buckets and running off to the walls. Not that I blame them, mud making is really hard, exhausting, back breaking work. And it never stops. I mixed mud batches for five hours, sweaty and tired, and could not keep up with the demand. We made about 25ish batches, we even ran out of dirt and had to go gather more. It was intense.
At some point one of the leaders offered to relieve me of my mud duties, but the other girl who was working with me was having trouble breathing...allergies or something, so I told her to go. I really didn't mind. I enjoyed my mud duties, I really did, and it gave me a strange sort of perspective into what went into making the sight in the first place. I didn't show up to just do the fun stuff, and I'm not really the kind to pick and choose what is and is not important to learn. As far as I'm concerned, it's far better to know too much than too little. Besides, I was just grateful to be there.
After all the mud was gone and sun was high in the sky, myself and the other mudders started the clean up. Washing out the 50 or so mud buckets and the pond. What was really amazing was that as people finished up on the wall and came back with their buckets no one offered to wash their own. Instead they just set them next to the three of us that were scrubbing away and sat down. Now, I don't really care, I was having a good enough time with the two people I'd been working with all day, but it was strange. I know people have gotten lazy, or at least lazier over time, but it was really strange to see people who were so lucky to have gotten to work at the site, and who had volunteered for a day of hard labor to actively avoid the hard-work part. It's a sad state of affairs when a grown person can't even clean their own mud bucket.
The downside to the whole thing is that EVERY SINGLE muscle in my body is exacting revenge today. Everything I do is painful. Muscles are hurting that I didn't even know I had! But you know what? I'll be back every month to do it all over again. Even if I get stuck mixing the mud every single time. I can't tell you what I'm gaining from doing it, but I know that whatever it is, it's important. And hey, even if it's not, I'm still having fun.
I miss you Dear Friend. Someday I'll take you with me, I promise. You know, when you live somewhere less green. :) I hope things are well. Lots of love.
song of the day!
I'm back!!! You just got song of the day jacked Little Foot!
Love and Stuff,
Goose.
Love and Stuff,
Goose.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Well...
That's that I guess.
Today was miserable. But an extra special shade of miserable, for what that's worth.
Most notably I forgot today was Thursday until I looked at the clock at 4:50 and thought how lovely it was I didn't have class. Only I did. Because it was Wednesday. And it was due to start at 5:15.
I showed up at two before six, threw the door open, winded from the run and babbling about days and time and so on. I was excused for the day (but have to make up the lab tomorrow) which was the one blessing the universe bestowed up on me today. And for that I say grace.
Now I'm hanging out at home, missing Goose and dreading next week now that the count down to Turkey Day has begun in earnest. Hopefully your day was better than mine, and we aren't trapped having simultaneous bad days because that would be lame. Possibly even the lamest. Lots of love, from Goose and I.
Today was miserable. But an extra special shade of miserable, for what that's worth.
Most notably I forgot today was Thursday until I looked at the clock at 4:50 and thought how lovely it was I didn't have class. Only I did. Because it was Wednesday. And it was due to start at 5:15.
I showed up at two before six, threw the door open, winded from the run and babbling about days and time and so on. I was excused for the day (but have to make up the lab tomorrow) which was the one blessing the universe bestowed up on me today. And for that I say grace.
Now I'm hanging out at home, missing Goose and dreading next week now that the count down to Turkey Day has begun in earnest. Hopefully your day was better than mine, and we aren't trapped having simultaneous bad days because that would be lame. Possibly even the lamest. Lots of love, from Goose and I.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Absalom
Well Dear Friend, Goose has been having a swell time playing long distance DJ, and I'm sure she'll be sad to learn that I beat her to the song of the day post today. Poor darling.
But in the end, it was high time I updated you on...something.
Anyway, we got a fish tank.
Remember that story about the two little goldfish? Yeah. That spiraled out of control (as most things do around here). I staked out craigslist for ages, waiting patiently for the fish tank I wanted. I found it, finally, for almost-free, but had to drive an hour and a half to pick it up. It was still totally worth it. So it's like 35ish gallons and a hexagon. It's about twice as tall as it is wide and is nearly identical to the one I had as a kid. I got it home, lugged it inside and got it set up. Then the research began.
I don't know if you've ever witnessed me researching projects, but it's really...annoying. It's compulsive. I can't stop it. I just read more and more and my goals are constantly morphing in to things that will cost more and more money. My Dear Sweet Goose just sits there and shakes her head at me (but never rains on my crazy parade).
Well it didn't take long for me to figure out that a tank with a small footprint can support less biomass than a tank of equal volume with a large footprint. Duh. Should have seen that coming. In addition, goldfish have a high bioload, (they're dirty fish) so the tank could hold 3...max. Okay. So we thought we'd move to a community tank with one black moore in there, and some other species. Not so easy. Apparently black moores have bad eyesight, and (obviously) delicate eyes. Fast moving fish can startle them, they can bump their eyes, and then it's all downhill from there. Also goldfish are cold water fish, most fish are tropical fish...you see how this goes?
So we abandoned the goldfish plan and moved on to tropical fish. Goose likes platties and mollies (mollies also have a big bioload so those are out). I (at this point) have stopped caring so much about the fish and have moved on to aquatic gardens and aquascaping. Yes. Aquascaping. You heard me. I have totally lost myself in matters of substrate, CO2 injection systems, and starry-eyed dreams filled with a fish tank filled with rolling grassy hills, sandy rivers, and perfectly pruned aquatic bonsai trees.
Instead the two of us met in the middle. We got a community tank. (Our opalescent unicorn of a betta fish Absalom, ruler of the roost, two platties and two sword tails). The betta is being a little testy today, but mostly that's a plant issue. Aggression will decrease as the scenery becomes more complex and more territories become available. We plan on adding small schooling fish in a couple of weeks once the plants come in a bit more, and while I got some live plants, Goose got a pirate ship. In the end, it's still beautiful and it's a good mix of what we both wanted...I'm just saying I could have landscaped the shit out of the tank. ;)
That's all for today. Sending you lots of love and stuff from both Goose and I. <3
But in the end, it was high time I updated you on...something.
Anyway, we got a fish tank.
Remember that story about the two little goldfish? Yeah. That spiraled out of control (as most things do around here). I staked out craigslist for ages, waiting patiently for the fish tank I wanted. I found it, finally, for almost-free, but had to drive an hour and a half to pick it up. It was still totally worth it. So it's like 35ish gallons and a hexagon. It's about twice as tall as it is wide and is nearly identical to the one I had as a kid. I got it home, lugged it inside and got it set up. Then the research began.
I don't know if you've ever witnessed me researching projects, but it's really...annoying. It's compulsive. I can't stop it. I just read more and more and my goals are constantly morphing in to things that will cost more and more money. My Dear Sweet Goose just sits there and shakes her head at me (but never rains on my crazy parade).
Well it didn't take long for me to figure out that a tank with a small footprint can support less biomass than a tank of equal volume with a large footprint. Duh. Should have seen that coming. In addition, goldfish have a high bioload, (they're dirty fish) so the tank could hold 3...max. Okay. So we thought we'd move to a community tank with one black moore in there, and some other species. Not so easy. Apparently black moores have bad eyesight, and (obviously) delicate eyes. Fast moving fish can startle them, they can bump their eyes, and then it's all downhill from there. Also goldfish are cold water fish, most fish are tropical fish...you see how this goes?
So we abandoned the goldfish plan and moved on to tropical fish. Goose likes platties and mollies (mollies also have a big bioload so those are out). I (at this point) have stopped caring so much about the fish and have moved on to aquatic gardens and aquascaping. Yes. Aquascaping. You heard me. I have totally lost myself in matters of substrate, CO2 injection systems, and starry-eyed dreams filled with a fish tank filled with rolling grassy hills, sandy rivers, and perfectly pruned aquatic bonsai trees.
Instead the two of us met in the middle. We got a community tank. (Our opalescent unicorn of a betta fish Absalom, ruler of the roost, two platties and two sword tails). The betta is being a little testy today, but mostly that's a plant issue. Aggression will decrease as the scenery becomes more complex and more territories become available. We plan on adding small schooling fish in a couple of weeks once the plants come in a bit more, and while I got some live plants, Goose got a pirate ship. In the end, it's still beautiful and it's a good mix of what we both wanted...I'm just saying I could have landscaped the shit out of the tank. ;)
That's all for today. Sending you lots of love and stuff from both Goose and I. <3
Song of the day!
I know I know it's kind of a jump Phil Collins to Norma Jean but you like it so shut up. :)
Love and stuff,
Goose.
Love and stuff,
Goose.
Song of the day!
It's me again! Sorry I forgot to post your dose of Phil Collins yesterday so here it is as promised. Little Foot said no to The Hoff soooo I suppose Sir Collins will just have to suffice.
Love and stuff,
Goose.
Love and stuff,
Goose.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Song of the day!
Little Foot is slacking! So once again you are blessed with my impeccable taste in music. Maybe tomorrow I'll post some Phil Collins or maybe just maybe The Hoff will stop by! bahahaha!
Love Always,
Goose.
Love Always,
Goose.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Song of the Day.
Seriously Scandinavia, why are you so awesome? Seems like I spend my life rolling around in music made by Scandinavian bands....
I have a long and rambling story to tell you about a totally random chain of events that led to a acquiring a unicorn...of sorts.
But tonight is not a night for story telling. It's more like a night for lying around in our unds eating cheetos and watching Buffy.
Lots of love.
I have a long and rambling story to tell you about a totally random chain of events that led to a acquiring a unicorn...of sorts.
But tonight is not a night for story telling. It's more like a night for lying around in our unds eating cheetos and watching Buffy.
Lots of love.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
The Battle Hymn.
You know, there are few things in life that can not be learned almost instantaneously to the tune of The Battle Hymn of The Republic. Between the time spent crafting new lyrics, and the infectious, almost parasitic nature of the tune (much like The Song That Never Ends), whatever information you put to that song is entombed in your mind forever. It's how I learned the Krebs cycle, the geologic timescale, soil horizons, all sorts of taphonomic information...it can't be helped! That's what that song is for! Learning! (Clearly).
And while I am, at least at this point, much too modest to post a video of my own version of it (my voice is meant for the shower, and the inside of my car...not so much for the internet) in its stead I give you this amazing/animated/impassioned version by Judy Garland.
I can see you rolling your eyes at me, but seriously, watch it. It is EPIC. In every sense of the word. EPIC.
....also I love Judy Garland. <3
And while I am, at least at this point, much too modest to post a video of my own version of it (my voice is meant for the shower, and the inside of my car...not so much for the internet) in its stead I give you this amazing/animated/impassioned version by Judy Garland.
I can see you rolling your eyes at me, but seriously, watch it. It is EPIC. In every sense of the word. EPIC.
....also I love Judy Garland. <3
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
In the Reins
In the Reins is such a fantastic album. I forget sometimes, since I never got around to uploading it to my playlist, how very very much I love it.
I've spent the past week, probably more like two really, hiding from life. I'm not quite done yet either. I keep hoping that if I can just pretend time is standing still for long enough, that there will be a moment when I look around and realize that it has. That I will have time to sort my head out and get my sh*t together before the sun comes up again and this whole big never ending circle of time and days and weeks and work and school and everything else comes around again and fogs up my brain.
I know, I know, I'm so not that lucky.
But I CAN dream.
And so I do.
I don't know Dear Friend. Seems things have gotten gloomy around here.
This morning about half the lightbulbs in my apartment burnt out which left me fumbling around in the dark. When I got to work there were lights out there too. It has literally felt like rain was going to start pouring from the ceiling all day. Periodically I would open the doors to peek outside and see if the rain had started yet and realize it was bright and sunny outside. I guess all the clouds were in my head.
Well, I've got some research to do on Papio, a geoarch project to come up with, a book review to write, and more math homework than I want to think about to work on, so it looks like I've got my work cut out for me this evening.
As always, I miss you more than life. Possibly more these past few weeks than normal, if that's possible. I hope things are well, and that your flagging class is at least amusing. I hope the trees aren't growing roots into your brain, and that your busted ankle is getting better. I hope QD and the rest of the SFB (that's Swiss Family Beckman, in case you were wondering) aren't driving you crazy. I pray that you're at least out-reading me at this point, since my progress has come to a total standstill. And last but not least, I hope you're not freezing your butt off up there in what is practically the Arctic Tundra. Lots of love.
I've spent the past week, probably more like two really, hiding from life. I'm not quite done yet either. I keep hoping that if I can just pretend time is standing still for long enough, that there will be a moment when I look around and realize that it has. That I will have time to sort my head out and get my sh*t together before the sun comes up again and this whole big never ending circle of time and days and weeks and work and school and everything else comes around again and fogs up my brain.
I know, I know, I'm so not that lucky.
But I CAN dream.
And so I do.
I don't know Dear Friend. Seems things have gotten gloomy around here.
This morning about half the lightbulbs in my apartment burnt out which left me fumbling around in the dark. When I got to work there were lights out there too. It has literally felt like rain was going to start pouring from the ceiling all day. Periodically I would open the doors to peek outside and see if the rain had started yet and realize it was bright and sunny outside. I guess all the clouds were in my head.
Well, I've got some research to do on Papio, a geoarch project to come up with, a book review to write, and more math homework than I want to think about to work on, so it looks like I've got my work cut out for me this evening.
As always, I miss you more than life. Possibly more these past few weeks than normal, if that's possible. I hope things are well, and that your flagging class is at least amusing. I hope the trees aren't growing roots into your brain, and that your busted ankle is getting better. I hope QD and the rest of the SFB (that's Swiss Family Beckman, in case you were wondering) aren't driving you crazy. I pray that you're at least out-reading me at this point, since my progress has come to a total standstill. And last but not least, I hope you're not freezing your butt off up there in what is practically the Arctic Tundra. Lots of love.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Song of the Day!
Today was miserable. Possibly worse than miserable. For no reason in particular. The cumulative weight of a million tiny things I suppose.
Oh well.
It was abysmal.
Now it's over.
Fingers crossed tomorrow is better.
Hope things are better for you. <3
Sunday, November 6, 2011
In true Arizona fashion, fall came and left us in the span of a week. Unreasonably hot days melted, almost seamlessly into unreasonably cold nights. November is really and truly upon us, and I for one, am displeased.
Not only because I have an innate dislike for chilly weather, but also because I loathe holidays with and begin exhibiting an almost primal kind of fear as they approach. This year I am particularly dismayed at your absence, in case I haven't mentioned that enough. I have been mulling over the various ways I might somehow goad you into coming home for T-day, but there's always at least one irritating little detail I can't seem to get around. And so, all my plotting (so far, at least) has been for naught.
In other news, some creature or another has been leaving piles of mystery poo on our patio. At first I suspected this little black kitten in a pink collar, that was hopelessly enamored of Mittens. He spent his evenings languishing about our patio, pawing hopelessly at the arcadia doors, and occasionally headbutting the window. Goose has informed me however, that upon closer inspection she believes them to be the handy-work of a dog. A big dog. Much bigger than the poor lovestruck kitty.
This brings me to another point.
One of loose dogs.
The other night I was up well past my bed time working on a exam. Sometime after midnight a dog began barking. Loudly. Eventually I sent Goose to investigate. She peered out the window, and let me know there was a very large, mildly disgruntled pitbull on our patio barking at the door. I set my work aside, opened the door, and sure enough, there he was. He was a big dog, and would have been terribly handsome had he not been trying to bark my door down. He was black with a white chest, and was wearing a collar with tags. Well enough was enough. I marched up to him, and he quieted down for a second, took a few hesitant steps toward me, and then Emmy woke up. She let out one singular warning howl and the trespasser went nuts. His hair went up, his ears went down, and his tail was as far between his legs as it could get. Poor thing. When my goofy dog (who's two favorite treats, for the record, are celery and ice cubes) scares the living bejeezus out of you, you know you've got issues. Anyway, I chased him off. He came back a couple of times, but then left for good.
The next morning we saw the SAME dog on a leash, being walked around the next complex over. I seriously hope he managed to escape and is not roaming around free at night. Anyway...
As I walked out my door today to find yet another outrageous pile of feces on my patio I can't help but wonder if it's from THAT dog.
As irritating as that might be, it's better than the alternative that one of my neighbors is allowing their dogs to defecate on patio, not 4 inches from my door, and then refusing to pick it up.
Apparently there are no good answers. At least not when I'm the one left cleaning it up. :/
Miss you tons Dear Friend. Tons and Tons.
Not only because I have an innate dislike for chilly weather, but also because I loathe holidays with and begin exhibiting an almost primal kind of fear as they approach. This year I am particularly dismayed at your absence, in case I haven't mentioned that enough. I have been mulling over the various ways I might somehow goad you into coming home for T-day, but there's always at least one irritating little detail I can't seem to get around. And so, all my plotting (so far, at least) has been for naught.
In other news, some creature or another has been leaving piles of mystery poo on our patio. At first I suspected this little black kitten in a pink collar, that was hopelessly enamored of Mittens. He spent his evenings languishing about our patio, pawing hopelessly at the arcadia doors, and occasionally headbutting the window. Goose has informed me however, that upon closer inspection she believes them to be the handy-work of a dog. A big dog. Much bigger than the poor lovestruck kitty.
This brings me to another point.
One of loose dogs.
The other night I was up well past my bed time working on a exam. Sometime after midnight a dog began barking. Loudly. Eventually I sent Goose to investigate. She peered out the window, and let me know there was a very large, mildly disgruntled pitbull on our patio barking at the door. I set my work aside, opened the door, and sure enough, there he was. He was a big dog, and would have been terribly handsome had he not been trying to bark my door down. He was black with a white chest, and was wearing a collar with tags. Well enough was enough. I marched up to him, and he quieted down for a second, took a few hesitant steps toward me, and then Emmy woke up. She let out one singular warning howl and the trespasser went nuts. His hair went up, his ears went down, and his tail was as far between his legs as it could get. Poor thing. When my goofy dog (who's two favorite treats, for the record, are celery and ice cubes) scares the living bejeezus out of you, you know you've got issues. Anyway, I chased him off. He came back a couple of times, but then left for good.
The next morning we saw the SAME dog on a leash, being walked around the next complex over. I seriously hope he managed to escape and is not roaming around free at night. Anyway...
As I walked out my door today to find yet another outrageous pile of feces on my patio I can't help but wonder if it's from THAT dog.
As irritating as that might be, it's better than the alternative that one of my neighbors is allowing their dogs to defecate on patio, not 4 inches from my door, and then refusing to pick it up.
Apparently there are no good answers. At least not when I'm the one left cleaning it up. :/
Miss you tons Dear Friend. Tons and Tons.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Friday, November 4, 2011
My new car...
So last Friday I bought a new car. Well, not new per-say, but new to me. It's a civic, in pretty great shape, and has a fresh coat of paint on it. . . or at least it did.
Today I left my car at work while we went out to dinner with the Boss Lady. R dropped me back off at my car a couple of hours later when I saw it. THE BIGGEST door-dink mark of life. You can quite literally see the entire length of the door that slammed into my precious, precious car. Not only is there a huge, foot long, mark on my car, but the paint is chipped off in several places.
I was (am) pissed. Super pissed. Beyond super pissed. Not just because they damaged my car that I have barely even owned for a whole week, but because they didn't even leave me an 'I'm sorry' note. It is NOT a small dent. Not by any stretch of the imagination. And I wasn't parked in a public lot, I was parked in the rear employees lot. This is a fact that really REALLY makes me mad. Because I know everyone who parks back there. It's someone I work with, someone who says hi to me every day, and they didn't even take two seconds to say 'oops, totally didn't mean to dent the side of your car in'.
So now, when I go into work on Monday I'm going to be eyeballing everyone I see. Wondering who was the braying jackass (who was clearly raised by wolves) that had the audacity to smash up the side of my car and just drive away.
Currently I feel like posting an open letter to said jackass on the side of my car above the dent. However, I think that might result in slashed tires.
People are rude. RUDE.
And they should be ashamed.
that.is.all.
Today I left my car at work while we went out to dinner with the Boss Lady. R dropped me back off at my car a couple of hours later when I saw it. THE BIGGEST door-dink mark of life. You can quite literally see the entire length of the door that slammed into my precious, precious car. Not only is there a huge, foot long, mark on my car, but the paint is chipped off in several places.
I was (am) pissed. Super pissed. Beyond super pissed. Not just because they damaged my car that I have barely even owned for a whole week, but because they didn't even leave me an 'I'm sorry' note. It is NOT a small dent. Not by any stretch of the imagination. And I wasn't parked in a public lot, I was parked in the rear employees lot. This is a fact that really REALLY makes me mad. Because I know everyone who parks back there. It's someone I work with, someone who says hi to me every day, and they didn't even take two seconds to say 'oops, totally didn't mean to dent the side of your car in'.
So now, when I go into work on Monday I'm going to be eyeballing everyone I see. Wondering who was the braying jackass (who was clearly raised by wolves) that had the audacity to smash up the side of my car and just drive away.
Currently I feel like posting an open letter to said jackass on the side of my car above the dent. However, I think that might result in slashed tires.
People are rude. RUDE.
And they should be ashamed.
that.is.all.
Boss Lady.
Oh Dear Friend, tonight R and I went out to dinner with the Boss Lady. She's not really our boss lady anymore, at least not technically, but she'll always be THE Boss Lady. It was fantastic. The best dinner ever. For a lot of reasons, really. But mostly because I miss her. And I'm glad she misses us back.
Whatever Boss Lady may be to everyone else, and whatever she may think she is to us, in my mind she'll always be my Other Mother. I never had a mom, not in any real sense of the word, but for five long years Boss Lady watched over me every day, for eight long, long hours. She scolded me when I was bad. Corrected me when I was wrong. Equipped me to do all kinds of things I didn't think that I would ever be able to do. She put up with my, at times unreasonable tantrums, saw me through the worst of my crazy. And after I tried (and failed...miserably) to kill myself, when no one else (except my dad) would even return my phone calls, she showed up at the ICU to make sure I was okay.
I don't know what she thinks about all this, or why she's taken care of me the way that she has, and really, I don't care. She did. And I'm a better person for having known her. Every day. I like the Boss Lady because she makes me better than I am. Even if she doesn't know it.
Boss Lady is my favorite.
I wish you had gotten a chance to meet her before you moved away...I don't know how exactly we would have accomplished that, but that's beside the point. She's been such a huge influence on Goose and I, without her ever really knowing it. When we get stuck, particularly when one of us is having issues at work, or with someone else, we try to figure out what Boss Lady would tell us to do. Plus, she plays the accordion. That in and of itself makes her pretty dang cool in my book.
Oh, and she secretly rocked out to Lady Gaga in the mornings. :)
Whatever Boss Lady may be to everyone else, and whatever she may think she is to us, in my mind she'll always be my Other Mother. I never had a mom, not in any real sense of the word, but for five long years Boss Lady watched over me every day, for eight long, long hours. She scolded me when I was bad. Corrected me when I was wrong. Equipped me to do all kinds of things I didn't think that I would ever be able to do. She put up with my, at times unreasonable tantrums, saw me through the worst of my crazy. And after I tried (and failed...miserably) to kill myself, when no one else (except my dad) would even return my phone calls, she showed up at the ICU to make sure I was okay.
I don't know what she thinks about all this, or why she's taken care of me the way that she has, and really, I don't care. She did. And I'm a better person for having known her. Every day. I like the Boss Lady because she makes me better than I am. Even if she doesn't know it.
Boss Lady is my favorite.
I wish you had gotten a chance to meet her before you moved away...I don't know how exactly we would have accomplished that, but that's beside the point. She's been such a huge influence on Goose and I, without her ever really knowing it. When we get stuck, particularly when one of us is having issues at work, or with someone else, we try to figure out what Boss Lady would tell us to do. Plus, she plays the accordion. That in and of itself makes her pretty dang cool in my book.
Oh, and she secretly rocked out to Lady Gaga in the mornings. :)
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Spellcheck
Before I go, Is it just me or does it seem like nobody gives a damn about spelling anymore? Spelling has always been my downfall. I'm terrible at it, admittedly. But with so many tools at my disposal it seems really...lazy to not even try to spell stuff right. (Besides that, if I'm the one noticing, you probably have a pretty serious problem).
And you know, social networking or personal blogs or whatever, I know I have to let that stuff go. But business emails? News articles?
What on earth is up with that?
I can't tell you how many online article I read that have grievous spelling and grammatical errors. Does nobody employ an editor anymore? Are things just published the way they are submitted? Does nobody care, to any small degree, how utterly stupid it makes them look to publish...anything with two spelling errors to every paragraph?
Makes me nutso.
Maybe it's just me, but it feels a lot like some sort of twisted devolution.
Maybe we'll just abandon the written word all together.
Maybe we'll all just go back to grunting.
It's hard to say.
Spellcheck.
Use it.
Love it.
And you know, social networking or personal blogs or whatever, I know I have to let that stuff go. But business emails? News articles?
What on earth is up with that?
I can't tell you how many online article I read that have grievous spelling and grammatical errors. Does nobody employ an editor anymore? Are things just published the way they are submitted? Does nobody care, to any small degree, how utterly stupid it makes them look to publish...anything with two spelling errors to every paragraph?
Makes me nutso.
Maybe it's just me, but it feels a lot like some sort of twisted devolution.
Maybe we'll just abandon the written word all together.
Maybe we'll all just go back to grunting.
It's hard to say.
Spellcheck.
Use it.
Love it.
Thursdays.
Somehow all the days just feel like Wednesdays.
It's official. I'm depressed. Not depressed-depressed. You know, not the failing-to-function, can't-wash-my-own-hair kind of depressed, but depressed nonetheless.
I don't feel overtly sad. I'm just apathetic. Apathetic and listless. About all things. Part of it is the month I've had. Part of it is the October blues, which in reality stretches out through most of the winter. Lightening a bit around T-day (probably not this year though), and clearing up for a bit around the first of the new year. Then before long comes the end of February melt-down which without fail arises out of the perfect storm created by the endless February/March flu, midterms, and a high census at work. How I survive all that, I'll never know. How I'm going to fare this year without my medication is yet to be seen. But, and I say this without trying to sound too much like Sylvia Plath via The Bell Jar, I'm hopeful.
Eh, well, if anyone can do it it's me.
Right about now I'm feeling a little bitter that my psychiatrist quit (even though it's been a year and a half now). And possibly more bitter that it's so hard to find one who's not an A-hole. But really I guess when you've had the same doc for as long as I have, they all seem like A-holes comparatively. Maybe it's an issue with standards. Maybe it has to do with my general disdain for change I do not initiate. Maybe it's something else all together. Who knows.
I think my boss is going to hire someone else to help out with the workload at work. I'm happy in theory. In practice, I'm worried because I know I'm not as adaptive as I need to be. Particularly because 1. I'm not in charge of the interviewing/hiring process and 2. I didn't ask for anyone else to be hired. Seems petty doesn't it? In the real world it's more complex with that. My fears over new people are colored by my experiences with other people I've worked with, both at this job and at others, and with the symbiotic relationship my co-worker and I have developed (don't know how we'll merge a third person into that, eep!). I know in the end, that I am working way too hard. That in reality the work load will crush me come February, but I'm resistant/anxious about the impending changes. I'm hoping if I stay aware of what I'm going through I'll be able to keep my head above water.
Also, I miss Goose.
Terribly.
I know it's probably the October blues or whatever, but right about now I really dislike how her and I are on opposite work schedules. Getting to see her one day a week blows chunks. This is a particularly pronounced problem this week since I have not attended any of my night classes and have way too much time on my hands. . . of course, by way too much time on my hands, I mean about two hours a night less than I need to get my homework done. But then we'd have to assume that I'm doing any of it right now, which I'm not. This further compounds my problems because it forces me to spend all day Saturday working on it, which is the only day I get with Goose, but you know how I can be when the procrastination/self-deprecation cycle starts up. :P
Ah, I don't know Dear Friend. Life is just generally icky.
But do you want to know something funny? (and totally unrelated to any part of this obnoxious rant?) Thought so.
Today I went to my morning class. It's super boring, which makes me sad because I both adore my professor, and expected I would really love this class. (Somehow the particle size of sediment just isn't doing it for me). Anyway, I have to write long hand in here to keep myself awake, and by writing, I really mean transcribing every single word that is said by anyone just to keep my brain focused. I got there a few minutes late, snuck in, set my bag down and it made the LOUDEST, most bizarre clunking sound ever.
Perplexed, I stared at my bag. What was in there? Why was this happening? I was sure I asked Goose to pack it for me this morning...what did she pack me?
The class stops briefly to stare at me.
When things go back to normal I quietly go to take out my notebook and start my notes. I unzip my bag...and it's full of hammers. HA! I thought it felt heavy and strangely packed. Goose forgot to re-pack it for me and it was still full of my fossiling gear. It was pretty funny. Less funny since I kept falling asleep in class, but still pretty dang funny.
I hope things today are better than they have been in your world. I want to call you, but I am in a for-real funk with nothing to say. Instead I just stare at the phone. Also, it's funny that you mentioned crossed lines in your post the other day because today I couldn't find my phone so I called it from Gooses phone, and it rang a couple of times and then was 'answered' by what sounded suspiciously like aliens. :) For serious though, that's what it sounded like. I'm sure it was a connection error that resulted in some really really weird electronic sounds, but it freaked Goose out pretty bad. She has an intense and irrational fear of all things alien and zombie. (Not that I continually exploit that....)
Well Dear Friend, I love you tons. Don't die up there amidst all the trees. Miss us some and we'll keep on missing you. Oh, and you know....come home soon. (Just had to throw that one in there). Lots of love.
Song of the day is one of Gooses favorite songs:
It's official. I'm depressed. Not depressed-depressed. You know, not the failing-to-function, can't-wash-my-own-hair kind of depressed, but depressed nonetheless.
I don't feel overtly sad. I'm just apathetic. Apathetic and listless. About all things. Part of it is the month I've had. Part of it is the October blues, which in reality stretches out through most of the winter. Lightening a bit around T-day (probably not this year though), and clearing up for a bit around the first of the new year. Then before long comes the end of February melt-down which without fail arises out of the perfect storm created by the endless February/March flu, midterms, and a high census at work. How I survive all that, I'll never know. How I'm going to fare this year without my medication is yet to be seen. But, and I say this without trying to sound too much like Sylvia Plath via The Bell Jar, I'm hopeful.
Eh, well, if anyone can do it it's me.
Right about now I'm feeling a little bitter that my psychiatrist quit (even though it's been a year and a half now). And possibly more bitter that it's so hard to find one who's not an A-hole. But really I guess when you've had the same doc for as long as I have, they all seem like A-holes comparatively. Maybe it's an issue with standards. Maybe it has to do with my general disdain for change I do not initiate. Maybe it's something else all together. Who knows.
I think my boss is going to hire someone else to help out with the workload at work. I'm happy in theory. In practice, I'm worried because I know I'm not as adaptive as I need to be. Particularly because 1. I'm not in charge of the interviewing/hiring process and 2. I didn't ask for anyone else to be hired. Seems petty doesn't it? In the real world it's more complex with that. My fears over new people are colored by my experiences with other people I've worked with, both at this job and at others, and with the symbiotic relationship my co-worker and I have developed (don't know how we'll merge a third person into that, eep!). I know in the end, that I am working way too hard. That in reality the work load will crush me come February, but I'm resistant/anxious about the impending changes. I'm hoping if I stay aware of what I'm going through I'll be able to keep my head above water.
Also, I miss Goose.
Terribly.
I know it's probably the October blues or whatever, but right about now I really dislike how her and I are on opposite work schedules. Getting to see her one day a week blows chunks. This is a particularly pronounced problem this week since I have not attended any of my night classes and have way too much time on my hands. . . of course, by way too much time on my hands, I mean about two hours a night less than I need to get my homework done. But then we'd have to assume that I'm doing any of it right now, which I'm not. This further compounds my problems because it forces me to spend all day Saturday working on it, which is the only day I get with Goose, but you know how I can be when the procrastination/self-deprecation cycle starts up. :P
Ah, I don't know Dear Friend. Life is just generally icky.
But do you want to know something funny? (and totally unrelated to any part of this obnoxious rant?) Thought so.
Today I went to my morning class. It's super boring, which makes me sad because I both adore my professor, and expected I would really love this class. (Somehow the particle size of sediment just isn't doing it for me). Anyway, I have to write long hand in here to keep myself awake, and by writing, I really mean transcribing every single word that is said by anyone just to keep my brain focused. I got there a few minutes late, snuck in, set my bag down and it made the LOUDEST, most bizarre clunking sound ever.
Perplexed, I stared at my bag. What was in there? Why was this happening? I was sure I asked Goose to pack it for me this morning...what did she pack me?
The class stops briefly to stare at me.
When things go back to normal I quietly go to take out my notebook and start my notes. I unzip my bag...and it's full of hammers. HA! I thought it felt heavy and strangely packed. Goose forgot to re-pack it for me and it was still full of my fossiling gear. It was pretty funny. Less funny since I kept falling asleep in class, but still pretty dang funny.
I hope things today are better than they have been in your world. I want to call you, but I am in a for-real funk with nothing to say. Instead I just stare at the phone. Also, it's funny that you mentioned crossed lines in your post the other day because today I couldn't find my phone so I called it from Gooses phone, and it rang a couple of times and then was 'answered' by what sounded suspiciously like aliens. :) For serious though, that's what it sounded like. I'm sure it was a connection error that resulted in some really really weird electronic sounds, but it freaked Goose out pretty bad. She has an intense and irrational fear of all things alien and zombie. (Not that I continually exploit that....)
Well Dear Friend, I love you tons. Don't die up there amidst all the trees. Miss us some and we'll keep on missing you. Oh, and you know....come home soon. (Just had to throw that one in there). Lots of love.
Song of the day is one of Gooses favorite songs:
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
On the menu tonight...
Humble pie, with a side of crow.
Only problem is, it should be in front of someone else.
There are many things in this world that I dislike doing. One of them is getting scolded for other peoples mistakes. Worse still, is having to eat a big ol' slice of that other person's humble pie. Especially if they're sitting across the table, grinning at you. That's pretty much been the theme of this week.
This month really.
For both of us.
Seems that everywhere Goose and I turn, someone has screwed something up, something that can't be proven, and blamed us.
Now, don't get me wrong, we screw up all the time...at least I know I do. There's no shame in making mistakes, even big ones. So why on earth do people have such a hard time with it, and in turn, put so much energy into blaming other people? I just don't get it.
It's not that I usually take these things lying down. I don't. I'm a real pain in the ass sometimes, and will continue to press the issue until it's been resolved CORRECTLY. With the correct people taking responsibility.
Sometimes though, that's not an option.
Do you remember that issue of The Wonder Years where Mr. Arnold gets the new boss who's an a-hole? The one who is totally unreasonable and yelling at him for no reason and Mr. Arnold just keeps replying 'Whatever you say, Ken'? Well Kevin doesn't get it. Thinks his dad is an idiot for putting up with all of it, then gets a job as a caddy and realizes sometimes you've just got to put up with unreasonable people, accept defeat in battles you weren't even fighting in, and admit fault for things you had nothing to do with.
Today we were both Kevin. It hit us like a 15,000lb sack of bricks, and neither of us liked it very much. There's this really weird point in life, where you really really really get all that crap about choosing your battles...and what exactly Dad means when he says 'it's just business'. Its unsettling. Strangely soul crushing. And I think the revelation itself may have aged me 15 or 20 years.
I miss the days, really miss them, when I had the luxury of being able to tell my boss/professor/neighbor/whoever to f-off. When right was right and wrong was wrong and I was in a position where I didn't have to accept anything in between. Where walking away from anything and everything was still 'totally reasonable', at least in my mind.
Being a grown-up, it sucks. Life is really all in-betweens. It's all politicking, networking, ladder climbing. It's meeting about nothing, endless memos and golf on Sundays. It's one big freaking campaign commercial and no one realizes or cares that one who throws mud inevitably gets hit with it too. Worse yet, no matter how much I don't want to play, real world economics dictate, at least for today, that we - Goose and I - bow to the system.
I don't know Dear Friend, I don't know. Seems that this past year has been particularly unkind to you and I . . . possibly to the world at large. . .
As T-Day approaches, and I face my first batch of holidays in recent memory without you and QD, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, we're not out of the woods quite yet.
Only problem is, it should be in front of someone else.
There are many things in this world that I dislike doing. One of them is getting scolded for other peoples mistakes. Worse still, is having to eat a big ol' slice of that other person's humble pie. Especially if they're sitting across the table, grinning at you. That's pretty much been the theme of this week.
This month really.
For both of us.
Seems that everywhere Goose and I turn, someone has screwed something up, something that can't be proven, and blamed us.
Now, don't get me wrong, we screw up all the time...at least I know I do. There's no shame in making mistakes, even big ones. So why on earth do people have such a hard time with it, and in turn, put so much energy into blaming other people? I just don't get it.
It's not that I usually take these things lying down. I don't. I'm a real pain in the ass sometimes, and will continue to press the issue until it's been resolved CORRECTLY. With the correct people taking responsibility.
Sometimes though, that's not an option.
Do you remember that issue of The Wonder Years where Mr. Arnold gets the new boss who's an a-hole? The one who is totally unreasonable and yelling at him for no reason and Mr. Arnold just keeps replying 'Whatever you say, Ken'? Well Kevin doesn't get it. Thinks his dad is an idiot for putting up with all of it, then gets a job as a caddy and realizes sometimes you've just got to put up with unreasonable people, accept defeat in battles you weren't even fighting in, and admit fault for things you had nothing to do with.
Today we were both Kevin. It hit us like a 15,000lb sack of bricks, and neither of us liked it very much. There's this really weird point in life, where you really really really get all that crap about choosing your battles...and what exactly Dad means when he says 'it's just business'. Its unsettling. Strangely soul crushing. And I think the revelation itself may have aged me 15 or 20 years.
I miss the days, really miss them, when I had the luxury of being able to tell my boss/professor/neighbor/whoever to f-off. When right was right and wrong was wrong and I was in a position where I didn't have to accept anything in between. Where walking away from anything and everything was still 'totally reasonable', at least in my mind.
Being a grown-up, it sucks. Life is really all in-betweens. It's all politicking, networking, ladder climbing. It's meeting about nothing, endless memos and golf on Sundays. It's one big freaking campaign commercial and no one realizes or cares that one who throws mud inevitably gets hit with it too. Worse yet, no matter how much I don't want to play, real world economics dictate, at least for today, that we - Goose and I - bow to the system.
I don't know Dear Friend, I don't know. Seems that this past year has been particularly unkind to you and I . . . possibly to the world at large. . .
As T-Day approaches, and I face my first batch of holidays in recent memory without you and QD, I can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, we're not out of the woods quite yet.
Wednesday, wednesday.
Oh Dear Friend. So many things have happened, and yet I somehow have nothing to talk about.
I did, however, submit an exam via safeassign earlier this week. Today I checked out my originality report. The first hit on it was 'from another student's paper' and was the material in the heading (My name / class number / Exam 1). I was pretty amused. Glad this safe assign thing is catching the plagerists. ;)
Lots of love.
I did, however, submit an exam via safeassign earlier this week. Today I checked out my originality report. The first hit on it was 'from another student's paper' and was the material in the heading (My name / class number / Exam 1). I was pretty amused. Glad this safe assign thing is catching the plagerists. ;)
Lots of love.
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