Editorial Remarks

Hello, firing squad.

2008-09-23T09:42:00.001-07:00

So I've decided to start taking this writing thing seriously. While I search and wait for ways to get paid to write, it's crucial that I get back into the practice of writing, and that will happen by doing it without the pressure of trying to get paid. It's been long enough since I've posted an entry here that I'm fairly certain no one checks it anymore, which makes it a "safe place"...at the same time, the whole point of this exercise is to put something out there for other people to see. I don't know if that's good or bad—self-editing will be very necessary if (when!) I find work, which puts this at an advantage over a private journal or (cringe) diary. It has its downsides: 1) I feel restrained and unable to be perfectly honest and experimental, but 2) I have no trouble still being completely self-indulgent, because the purpose of a blog is all about self, anyway. Self-expression, self-promotion. In my case especially, self-pity. Verbal self-flagellation. Speaking of which...

I am coming to some disturbing realizations about myself. One is that I really wouldn't blame anyone who knows me for thinking that I'm all talk. I'm starting to think that myself. There's this writing thing I've been talking about for too long, and while I've got some plans, and some possible opportunities on the horizon, none are that "chance of a lifetime" that will surely get me started on my way. In fact, they could lead me nowhere and I could just give in to defeat. And I go on and on and on about how I'm moving away from here, once and for all, or how I'm going to take some crazy trip out of this God-forsaken country and have free-spirited adventures all my own, but still, here I sit in this cubicle, at the same company my mother worked at just before becoming a mother. Thinking, daydreaming, sometimes quietly crying. Watching my move money or my trip money vanish instantaneously each month at the push of a button, through the magic of electronic bill payments and paperless bank statements.

I am a perfect Walter Mitty. I remember not liking that story when I read it for school, and now I like it even less, because it's me. And I cannot keep going on this way.

Baby, it's cold outside.

2007-12-13T11:28:00.000-08:00

Based on my drive to see Nikolai this afternoon, it's going to be another fun drive home tonight. A very merry Christmas, indeed.

We had our first wicked nasty storm of the winter last week—first of many, as all of Rochester knows. Somehow it was not the blizzard experience I expected, the one I'm used to. Stressful, dangerous, yes, but the long ride home from work that day was the most meditative hour I've had in a very long time (and probably the only truly meditative hour I've ever spent behind the wheel of my car). I've passed so many seasons of ice and snow here, but how long has it been since I could actually appreciate the way the world is transformed in a white-out? The route I travel every day is made unrecognizable, guiding signs are invisible or bowed to the ground, and everything changes from frantic and reckless to slow and deliberate. On this particular night, every last car had reduced speed, everyone was patient with those who felt the need to go a little bit more slowly, and there was the sense that each person isolated in each little shell of a car was part of a choir of nearly identical thoughts - thoughts of getting home safely, of the safety of their loved ones who might also be driving home, and even of the safety of the strangers around them. Sometimes you get to see the good in people. There were none of the usual jackasses on my stretch of 390, the ones who think they are invincible and fly right past you, the ones you see in a ditch a few miles later. We didn't want to compete for a better place on the road, and we gained no satisfaction from seeing each other in ditches. We were just glad to be warm and protected in our little vessels.

I've never really seen March of the Penguins all the way through, but I'd caught a few minutes of it the day before, and that's exactly what we looked like. Yesterday we had been robots organized into single file between painted lines, all programmed to race each other to different finish lines. The whims of the sky erased all order and structure and turned us back into living things, making our steady, jumbled way toward a common goal. Back and forth every day to work, back and forth every year to wherever penguins go for sex, whatever the weather, what's the difference? Why do we keep doing it? I guess it just is what it is.

Lately I've been a bit more nuts than usual, lashing out in all directions, reducing whatever or whoever is nearest to me to a pile of shreds and then hating myself for it. It was exactly what I needed, to have all that energy forced inward for a time. God only knew how long it was going to take me to get home, and there was absolutely nothing to do but keep on going (life itself in 25 words). It was the perfect opportunity to do some thinking, to contemplate the taillights in front of me, to consider my own life and the lives dotting the highway all around me. I suppose snow is a blessing if it can get me, the original Hysterical Woman, to be calm and quiet down her craziness. If I do someday move to a warm climate, I may actually find myself missing Rochester winters. I hope I can find a reason to slow down, and I hope I can find some love for all of those strangers flying alongside me... even when they cut me off. How long will it take me to go over the edge in a world of perpetual shouting and honking?

Awwwwww.

2007-11-21T22:46:00.000-08:00

This is cute. Got to watch all the way through.

I will not become a chick lit addict.

2007-11-16T04:58:00.000-08:00

I came into some money recently and decided to go on a shopping spree at Barnes & Noble. (Translation - I got a $10 gift card for my birthday, which in this day and age enables me to purchase approximately 77% of a book.) What to get? I went against my usual M.O., which is to scan the classics, berate myself for the fact that I haven't read THIS, or THIS EITHER, and therefore am a pathetic excuse for a human being, hyperventilate because there are so many books I'm supposed to read that I haven't read yet, and grab whichever book strikes me as the most meaningful contribution to literature. Instead, I took the less snobby route. I'd heard of the movie version of P.S. I Love You, coming out next month, but hadn't known it was based on a book. I only knew it was about a woman whose dying husband arranges for her to receive letters from him after he's gone. I saw it and went for it, expecting it to be the kind of Nicholas Sparks-type schmaltz I hate, which makes a nice little movie but otherwise should never have been committed to paper. (I loved the movie A Walk to Remember, but I threw the book across the room when I finished it. IF I finished it.)

I fell madly in love with this book and every character in it.

For the last week my life has revolved around finding time to read it. It's one of those stories that gets into your head and just saturates you, changing the way you look at the things that are right in front of you, making you realize just how easily this or something similar could happen to you. It has me thinking nonstop about love and about making the most of it while you have it, it has made me so grateful to have love in my life. To BE alive. And it has me thinking about what kind of writer I might want to be someday, when I actually get around to writing something. (How about right now—the author is 26. Twenty-six! I have so much life to catch up on; I've accomplished zip since I graduated.) Is it okay to wind up writing popular fiction? Should I be at all concerned about being "literary"? Or is all that matters the idea of being able to connect with someone you've never met? To be able to make a stranger cry with what you've tapped out on a keyboard in the middle of the night, sitting alone with your own thoughts, emotions, and fears and trying to validate them the only way you know how? 'Cause let me tell you, this book had me sobbing. I want everyone to read it, I want everyone to see the movie. Even though the trailer tells me they've butchered it, I still really, really want to like it. I'm even ready to like Gerard Butler, whose oh-so-manly facial hair and bellowing about "SPARTA!!!" left me yawning, because he plays Gerry, and Gerry is a man to swoon for if ever there was one.

That's me gushing. I could go on, too, but it's almost time to put an end to this hellish work week. I haven't posted in a while, because I haven't been this bored at work in a while. But tonight is hockey date night!! Thank God for hockey and a welcome relief from feeling like such a girl.

Too bad I won't be needing the car anymore, because I will be taking the short bus from now on.

2007-07-16T09:55:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you a story about why I am a savant. Magna cum Laude and honor societies mean precisely jack when you've got this level of common sense.

You've been hearing me bitch for a few days now about my latest car trouble—the sudden loss of pick-up. I could stand on the gas pedal, feel like it was pressed to the floor, and the needle would still creep ever so slowly and steadily to an appropriate speed. Someone suggested that it might be a belt, and when someone says the word "belt" in the same sentence as "car," all I hear is "cha-ching." I've been fretting aloud to anyone who will listen over how much it's going to cost to get it fixed this time, I've been unsure of whether I should even drive the thing. I've been regretting the purchase for the bazillionth time, maligning Best Volvo and the manufacturers of Volkswagens everywhere, I've contemplated a murder-suicide involving me, V-Dubs, and a steep cliff.

But on my way to work this morning, un milagro—I, with the automotive knowledge of Paris Hilton, cracked the case. With no help from anyone, I fixed my car. How did I do it?

I pulled the bunched-up floormat out from under the gas pedal.

Please, no applause.

I'm too ecstatic to feel much shame over this, but give me a couple of days. And thank the Lord for small favors—the first thing I planned to do when I got to work was call the mechanic and set up an appointment. I'd much rather chuckle over my nimroddery with all of you than with the humorless service guy at Dorschel.

So now I feel guilty for thinking such violent thoughts about my car, when in recent weeks we've forged a much healthier relationship. I've had something of a revelation about the bond between (hu)man and machine. Now, I have often mocked those who over-anthropomorphize their cars (you know who you are). I will not stop doing so. I also refuse to pet something that has no nervous system and thus no tactile sense, and I will not impose a gender on something that has not been assigned one by physiology and that lacks the capacity to choose one for itself, ala a GRS-choosing parent. However, I have stopped viewing my car as an enemy piece of machinery hell-bent on my financial and psychological destruction (with the exception of the lapse described above), and more like an ailing friend or a sickly pet that I've adopted and now must care for. I think it helped when I found out the latest diagnosis—it needs two new control arms. My car has... arms? What a pitiable condition.... the poor little thing has two broken arms. Not only that, but they're going to need to be amputated and replaced by prostheses.

My car is not a demented artificial intelligence. It is a Lifetime movie subject. It doesn't hate me; it only aims to please. It is Johnny no. 5. No disassemble!

I got breakfast burrito sauce on my khakis, but it's okay.

2007-06-12T05:00:00.000-07:00

I might have to change the title of my blog, since I'm now technically a "Publishing Specialist" and not an "Editor." Changes keep a'comin'.

Keeping my own thoughts close and safe for a while, but I'll share someone else's with you....

"Writing is about learning to pay attention and to communicate what is going on. Now, if you ask me, what's going on is that we're all up to here in it, and probably the most important thing is that we not yell at one another. Otherwise we'd all just be barking away like Pekingese: 'Ah! Stuck in the shit! And it's your fault, you did this...' Writing involves seeing people suffer and, as Robert Stone once put it, finding some meaning therein. But you can't do that if you're not respectful. If you look at people and just see sloppy clothes or rich clothes, you're going to get them wrong....

Your job is to see people as they really are, and to do this, you have to know who you are in the most compassionate possible sense. Then you can recognize others. It's simple in concept, but not that easy to do.... I am learning slowly to bring my crazy pinball-machine mind back to this place of friendly detachment toward myself, so I can look out at the world and see all those other things with respect. Try looking at your mind as a wayward puppy that you are trying to paper-train. You don't drop-kick a puppy into the neighbor's yard every time it piddles on the floor. You just keep bringing it back to the newspaper. So I keep trying gently to bring my mind back to what is really there to be seen, maybe to be seen and noted with a kind of reverence. Because if I don't learn to do this, I think I'll keep getting things wrong."

- from Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott

Oh, and here's a really beautiful story about enduring love and the tenacity of human life:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19037401/

I hope everyone smiles at something and is kind to someone today.

Song for a rainy day

2007-06-04T10:45:00.000-07:00

I want to paint my face and pretend that I am someone else
Sometimes I get so fed up I don't even want to look at myself
But people have problems that are worse than mine
I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time
And I hate the way you look at me, I have to say
I wish I could start over again

I am slowly falling apart
I wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start
And you might think it's easy being me
You just stand still and look pretty

Sometimes I find myself shaking in the middle of the night
And then it hits me and I can't even believe this is my life
But people have problems that are worse than mine
I don't want you to think I'm complaining all the time
And I wish that everyone would go and shut their mouths
I'm not strong enough to deal with it

I am slowly falling apart
I wish you'd take a walk in my shoes for a start
And you might think it's easy being me
You just stand still and look pretty

~Stand Still, Look Pretty by the Wreckers

Schadenfraude

2007-04-13T04:40:00.000-07:00

Some of these are pretty funny. Happy Friday the 13th, paraskevidekatriaphobics.

1=9299">http://health.msn.com/centers/mentalhealth/articlepage.aspx?cp-documentid=100159963>1=9299

Blame Canada

2007-04-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

I sent around a message to a lot of you a while back about the seal hunt that's going on in Canada right now, and in case you didn't get a chance to read it, please just take a look at this:

http://hsus.typepad.com/seals

I'm sure you're all sick of hearing me express my horror over this outrage or that outrage, but I know all of you and I know that you'll find this one just as upsetting as I do. I think that the very least all of us can do is sign the boycott on Canadian seafood and send a message to the Canadian government. This part of the protest seems to be the one that's slowly gaining force with each year - if everyone took part in this, it would leave Canada with little choice but to call off the hunt.

Roll your eyes all you want, I'm used to it, but this time I'm not asking you to give up eating meat... stop wearing leather... boycott the circus... just to read this and consider for a moment the reality of a three-week old baby seal beaten and skinned alive. Wait, make that 270,000 baby seals. This one isn't up for debate, it is just plain indefensibly wrong.

Thank you for your time.

Indignation.

2007-03-02T10:07:00.000-08:00

So we're all sitting around watching Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader? last night and getting increasingly pissed off as this idiot struggles to answer the simplest questions and Jeff Foxworthy tries to makes us believe that we're just as stupid and worthless because we're getting the questions wrong, too. But because I can not accept someone telling me I'm wrong when I KNOW I'm right, I had to research some of the answers I was completely confident about. What I found was conflicting "facts" from reputable sources. I'm not trying to prove that one answer is more correct than another, only to show that there is ambiguity in what research can reveal to us and certainly in what we are taught in schools, and how unreliable a so-called "authority" can be.

I can say unequivocably that by the fifth grade, I had been taught that a) 80% of the Earth's surface was water, and b) Kodiak bears were the largest bears in the world.

You can say these are trivialities, but it's a matter of principle. I don't like having my intelligence insulted by a snarky game show host and a bunch of unfair questions.

Also, I have about eight hours worth of time on my hands to sit at a desk and hone my ability to convey shrillness through type.

Water

-The Unites States Environmental Protection Agency's website states that "Approximately 80 percent of Earth's surface is covered with water."

-pbs.org and howstuffworks.com tell me that 70% of the Earth's surface is covered in water.

Bears

(I would have gotten this wrong anyway, because the Kodiak is technically a subspecies, but the point is still valid....)

-The Alaska Department of Fish and Game, Division of Wildlife Conservation's Official website claims that Kodiak bears are the largest in the world. The Encyclopaedia Britannica Online's entry on the Kodiak bear states that "It is the largest of living land carnivores."

-Wikipedia says that Kodiak bears and polar bears are "comparable in size."

-pbs.org (again), the BBC, and SeaWorld state that the polar bear is the largest land carnivore.

The Library of Congress clarifies as follows:

"It is a close call, but the polar bear is generally considered the largest bear on Earth. A close second is the brown bear, specifically the Kodiak bear. The Kodiak is a subspecies of the brown bear native to Alaska.
"The consensus among experts is that the polar bear is the largest, but some believe the Kodiak bear to be larger. Part of the dissension comes from the vagueness of the word "largest." The answer really depends on how "largest" is defined - Heaviest? Longest? Largest ever recorded?
The following data, taken from Gary Brown's Great Bear Almanac (New York, 1993), compares the average measurements of the polar and brown bear."

"Polar Bear
Average Weight of Mature Male: 900-1,500 pounds
Heaviest Recorded - 2,210 pounds
Average Length of Mature Male - 8-8.4 feet

Brown Bear
Average Weight of Mature Male: 500-900 pounds
Heaviest Recorded - 2,500+ pounds
Average Length of Mature Male - >7-10 feet"

Am I right? Am I wrong? Who knows. It's not my million dollars on the line. At the very least, they could hire me to help disambiguate their lousy dumb stupid crappy questions. That is all.

Watch it.

2007-02-26T19:54:00.000-08:00

Starring me. From 7:15-8 pm. Send money. Do it for them.

http://lollypop.org/orgmain.asp?sid=&orgID=106&storyID=207

Can you dig it?

2007-01-20T06:13:00.000-08:00

Season 6 is here! In celebration, a little bit of the new (this may cause you physical pain)....

And a little bit of the old. My all-time favorite American Idol contestant.

...if the Fates allow...

2006-12-27T12:40:00.000-08:00

I... love... Christmas. This year was a pretty special one, full of stress but also with good things. It was so different from other years.... I hardly spent any time at the mall, which was a gift in itself. It's a pain in the ass to make presents yourself (it's been over a month of "I'm going to knit one more row, and I'm going to bed! Maybe one more row after that, and I'm going to bed. Just one more.... maybe two.... then I'm really going to bed"), but it's so worth it in the end. Also, for the second year in a row, it was not the Christmas I grew up with. My aunt and uncle are moving into some kind of retirement home, so Christmases there are no more - but I can't complain about having to spend a holiday at my cousin's gorgeous, brand new cabin on Conesus Lake (except when I have to drive there in the dark). And not making my family gathering the one and only stop of the day....... what can I say about that.... I don't know how other couples do this year after year. For me, this time wasn't quite so bad, because I had the whole "we're in this together" mentality going, but man, the stress, the stress. New territory, to be sure. But not necessarily bad territory.

I'm having Christmas with my mom and my aunt right after work, since we didn't do our presents with the rest of the family on Monday. I'm glad it's still Christmas (that's right, still Christmas), and who doesn't love presents? but I'm pretty happy with what I have right now, and I don't need much more. The two things I've been wanting most lately, I have - an iPod and a pet rat. By the way, anyone who is not aware that rats are the cutest, sweetest things on the planet needs to come meet mine. She's no dog, but next to Buster, she's turning out to be the best pet I've ever had, and I'm really glad I got her.

I'm going to keep going, because I'm bored out of my mind here. I'm getting hungry, too, and I would wander down to the vending machine to combat both of those problems, but I forgot my work ID this morning. I could go get a temporary, but I've done that so many times, and I don't want to get that "you again?" look from the people downstairs. I also don't want to get stuck waiting for someone to let me in, or to get a nastygram from the security people who really watch those cameras like a hawk. Apparently you get reprimanding e-mails if you do awful things like keeping your ID in your purse and holding your purse up to the sensor instead of taking it out and scanning it. Crazy corporation, stop watching me.

I would have remembered my card this morning if I hadn't managed to sleep in this morning. I was two and a half hours late, and no one cared. Still have to use vacation time to cover it, though.

Well, Christine, one of these nights, we will make it to the Roost. Now that my life no longer revolves around knitting and drawing, I have a lot more time.

Now can I please go home? Hilary Duff and Clay Aiken are lonely on there, and they want their friends Britney, Christina, and *NSync to join them.

Drink up, it's okay!

2006-12-19T19:32:00.000-08:00

Greatest scientific discovery by Italians since Galileo:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/16173568/wid/11915773?GT1=8816

The best part is how this article skips silly things like evidence and explanations..... what exactly is this "protection" they speak of?

Okay, one more.

2006-11-30T16:06:00.000-08:00

Scrubs is back! Yay!

Acappella magic

2006-11-30T12:50:00.000-08:00

Working on a real post, but until then...

I remember when this was on TV, and a lot of people I knew who didn't like them at all admitted that they liked this performance. I'm not expecting that from YOU (you know who you are; there's more than one), but whatever. Watch and experience the love.

Last but not least, party at our place this weekend?

I'm an old hag.

2006-11-12T12:23:00.000-08:00

You Are 29 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe.

13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world.

20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences.

30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more!

40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Be the book

2006-10-17T16:39:00.000-07:00

No time to post, and when I do find time to write something, I'd love it to be something more literary than a blog entry. So read this instead.

http://www.slate.com/id/2151004/entry/2151016/?GT1=8702

Also, check this out. I didn't make it past the first week last year, but I'm ready to give it another shot. Who's with me??

http://www.nanowrimo.org/modules/xoopsfaq/index.php?cat_id=1

"NaNoWriMo is all about the magical power of deadlines. Give someone a goal and a goal-minded community and miracles are bound to happen. Pies will be eaten at amazing rates. Alfalfa will be harvested like never before. And novels will be written in a month."

Careful when teabagging

2006-10-16T10:08:00.000-07:00

Actual post coming soon, but in the meantime....

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15004926/

Sad for the bat, but funny for the lady.

Screw your pass!

2006-09-21T19:45:00.000-07:00

This is mostly for William, because I know he's really disappointed about not seeing this movie with us tonight. But also for everyone else, to help you get in the Halloween spirit! I forgot how awesomely bad this is, and this is my favorite part. And a fun fact, if you didn't know, this was Johnny Depp's first movie.

Not a fat girl yet, but really pushing maximum density.

2006-09-16T17:38:00.000-07:00

All I can say is, thank God that bridesmaid's dress is corseted. Oh, and also for the clearance section at DSW having the last pair of white shoes available in any store after Labor Day. Have I mentioned that I'd rather have a root canal than go shoe shopping?

I think the Eggs Benedict ship has sailed, but general consensus is that no one appreciates the magic of Hollandaise quite like I do. Sad. You're all missing out. But egg-in-a-hole (as I was taught to call an egg cooked inside of toast) is a fine way to eat an egg, too.

Ah, so. You're never too old for some things. Like feeling like you're back in high school all over again, desperately seeking the approval of the beautiful and charismatic (last night). And fortunately, it seems you're never too old for Disney-style daydreams. I've been working with a French author, some eminent attorney in Paris, and I can't stop coming back to this fantasy where she's so impressed with my work on her article that she calls me one day and says, "Oh, Mademoiselle Robinson, you simply must come to Paree and work for me! Be my protege! I will pay for l'ecole de droit!" And she flies me over to France, where my law career takes off and I have a baguette and a cafe au lait every morning on my way to the office and there's a tiny dog in my handbag (the tiny dog is pretty much a constant in all of my dreams for the future). It's funny, because I didn't like Paris all that much when I was there, and I have zero interest in ever practicing bankruptcy law, but in this imaginary life, I am so, so happy.

I am really itching to flee the country again, if only for a little while.

A question in closing - who the hell stands halfway down an on-ramp to hitchhike? Really, even if I remotely wanted to pick you up, there's no way I'm going to slam on my brakes for you as I'm picking up speed to get on 490. Poor guy's probably still standing out there, wondering why nobody has stopped, and in fact people start going faster as they pass him. What a head-scratcher.

Reading this will be a waste of your time.

2006-08-17T12:35:00.000-07:00

This is the last resort of someone who has spent the last two hours trying to look busy. Our system is down at work, and has been for most of the day, and everyone here's running out of things to do. This is pretty much how my entire week has been. Bored, lonely, introspective, mildly depressed. Thinking of how much I could do with eight hours all to myself, to do whatever I wanted... but instead I have to spend them sitting at this desk. Sitting, thinking, rethinking, overthinking, re-overthinking, over-rethinking.... What's out there? What's next? How long will this part of my life go on before the next one starts? There's a poem by Donald Hall about always rushing toward "the next thing! the next thing!" Well, that's me. Where to now? Who's going to come into my life next? Who will be out of it forever? Am I going to do the things I'm SUPPOSED to do, and am I going to do them because I WANT to do them? Will there be anything the least bit original about the path I follow? Or am I just going to get old?

I feel like I am getting old, or already there. Sometimes I feel like I'm done, even at this young age. I've always had a really weird sense of time, an inability to separate one period of time from another in my mind. No matter how much I've changed over the years, I still have the sense of always having been the same person, and the feeling that I always will be. Maybe I'll always be the same scared, solitary little girl, always the dreamy teenager in Coke-bottle glasses, optimistic about her 20s and unconcerned about anything after that. And maybe I've always been 23, free, and in love, always been an old beat-down woman at the end of the road.

Of all of the people I've been and will be, that old woman is the only one I've truly hated. I've hated her for all of the regrets she will have, and never, ever wanted to become her. I've been terrified of what it means to grow old, afraid of not making it that far, but mostly fearful of getting there and finding no meaning in anything I've done. If I can stop being afraid, if I can act now in ways the older me will be proud of... I think it will all be okay.

Whiny, self-indulgent blogger I've been lately. I promise my next post will be an inane ramble about how much I love Eggs Benedict or something. Wait, that's still kind of "me, me, me." Why don't you tell me how you feel about Eggs Benedict, and we'll go from there.

So damn unpretty

2006-08-07T16:52:00.000-07:00

So as I'm walking to my car this morning, I'm thinking about my jeans and realizing how ratty and beaten up they are and how I can't afford to buy new ones. And I wonder, what would I do if my pants split during the day at work? What would I do? Would I slip off and buy a pair at one of the ghetto stores in Midtown? Or just go home? Send around an e-mail to my team saying, "Sorry for the short notice, but my pants burst open at the seams, and I don't want to show all of you my ass, so I'll be leaving for the day. Any time not made up will be charged to 'personal.'"

This momentary concern came and went, and was forgotten.

Fast forward to 12:30. I head down to the Wintergarden to have my lunch, and when I sit down, I feel a coldness beneath me. 'Did I sit in something wet?' I wonder. So I reach down, and time freezes as I come to the horrifying realization that no, it's just my bare ass against the metal chair, because there is a giant hole in the seat of my jeans.

Luckily, I had a sweater to tie around my waist for the rest of the day, but I have no idea when it happened or how many people saw me between the time it happened and the time I noticed.

The best part is, that was my LAST functioning pair of jeans. I'm down to a pair of black pants, a pair of brown pants, and a pair of khakis.

You know it's been a bad day (not to mention, you know you're hormonal) when you're on the verge of tears because you can't put together an outfit casual enough for going out on a Monday night. I can't seem to find anything that's comfortable and that doesn't make me look like I'm either going to work or going to a club. I should probably just stay home.

I wish guys could understand what it's like when girls feel really bad about themselves.

How I'm going to die.

2006-07-19T15:04:00.000-07:00

'What" will your obituary say?' at QuizGalaxy.com

...this wreck of a life that I'm in

2006-07-15T13:48:00.000-07:00

Well, not being all that computer savvy, and still relatively new to this blogging thing, I didn't really know how comment moderation worked. I was starting to think no one loved me, but I've got it mostly figured out now. I played around with it today, and lo and behold, I stumbled upon a whole slew of comments from the last few weeks. There was the love!

Unfortunately, mixed in with the love, there was a little bit of hate. The first time it happened, I took the "ignore the bully, and he'll leave you alone" approach. And I told myself it had nothing to do with me, so the best thing to do was stay out of it and not even acknowledge it, even though it made me feel awful to do it. But that's not really the case now, is it? I've been personally attacked, and I'm not even sure why. Now the bad feeling is back, and I'm speaking up for myself, something I don't do often enough. Everyon else is allowed to go off half-cocked and say whatever's on their mind, so damnit, it's my turn.

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First of all, "censorship?" Deleting a comment on my own blog is not censorship - denying you the right to post something on a blog of your own is. I would never deny anyone the right to publish any opinion they wanted, no matter how much I disagreed. However, when you use MY personal, private forum to launch attacks against me and people I care about, I reserve the right to remove them, in the same way as if you came to my home and spray-painted something hateful on my door, I would reserve the right to clean it up. You will not use me to hurt someone else. So this is what I suggest you do - if you need an outlet for all of these negative feelings you're having, make a blog of your own. Hell, start a newsletter, write a novel, if you want. Anyone who wants to know your thoughts, your feelings, and what you purport to be the "truth" about another person or situation can choose to read them or not read them.

I have yet to be privy to this "truth" that you tell me I'm "afraid of" - by all means, if you're concerned about me, if you think I'm in some danger of getting hurt--not that I think this is your motivation, but if it is--I'd love to know.

Or here's another idea. If you have something to say to someone else, why not say it directly to them? Why go through me? I'd be fascinated to know why the hell this has anything to do with me. You don't even know me. Why insult me? What do you stand to gain? What exactly have I ever done to you? It must have been pretty bad, whatever it was...

Final thoughts:

-I love opinions that differ from my own. If you actually read my blog, you would see a lot of things I disagree with, but I respect those opinions and the people they belong to. Your "opinions" so far haven't fit those criteria.

-"Fuckin kid"? Because you've been oh-so mature about all of this. Some words come to mind - "stalking," "harassment," "deluded," "obsessed," but certainly NOT "adult."

-How about having the stones to identify yourself when you leave these kinds of comments? Everyone knows who you are, but you're not generating a whole lot of respect for your viewpoint by not making yourself known.

Go ahead and leave as many nasty comments as you want. If you're respectful, and what you have to say is worthwhile (or at least semi-amusing in its stupidity), I will not delete it. Otherwise, I will. That's my right. It's also my right to ask you to kindly fuck off.

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Now that that unpleasantness is out of the way.... I wouldn't be reacting to things this strongly if it weren't for a lot of other factors. I apologize in advance if I blow up at people who don't deserve it, because my Drama-O-Meter has surely blown a fuse by now. Drama! Drama! Drama! it screams as me, at the slightest sign of trouble. I am quite seriously ready to snap (hence the obvious snappage you see above). There's been a lot of B.S. thrown my way this year, and I have no idea how I keep ending up at the center of a constant whirlwind of anger and hurt feelings. This could have been the best year of my life to date - all I've been wanting is to relax, enjoy my first year of independence, focus on my relationships, and find ways to be happy. Unfortunately, it seems like the more I work to improve situations, the more I try to keep other people happy, the more things fall apart.

It really is time for me to start spending some time on my own. Reminding myself who I am and why that matters. Taking care of me every now and then. I've been so fucking passive lately, and the more passive I am, the more shit gets thrown my way. I'm sick of it.

Time to ramp up the bitchery! Not really. I just ask anyone who cares about me in the least to have just a little bit of patience with me, and cut me a little bit of slack, as I try to figure out my life.

Thanks, friends.

Praise Cheeses.

2006-07-11T20:02:00.000-07:00

I just fell asleep for about five seconds out on the couch, and managed to have a vivid flash of a dream in which CDs were the same as cheese, and therefore my cheese slicer was also a cheese player.

"Daddy, I LOVE him!"

2006-07-08T10:27:00.000-07:00

Does it bother anyone else that The Little Mermaid is about a 16-year old girl who gets married? I guess you could argue that it was common practice for royalty in the 1800s, when the original story was written, to marry at an extremely young age. Then again, in the original story, she kills herself.

I suppose when I was a little girl watching it, I thought 16 was old, and a fine time to tie the knot. Through the eyes of that little girl, I should be celebrating my seventh anniversary.

And how about the major unresolved conflict in the film, that no one talks about? The whole reason for the rift between merpeople and humans, the undercurrent of tension that moves the plot forward, is the fact that human beings are barbarians who eat fish. Nowhere in the course of the narrative do humans vow to stop killing and eating their kind, but at the end, merpeople, fish, dolphins, crabs, etc. are all gathered to celebrate the newfound peace between creatures of land and sea. Maybe that scene was cut, and humans have promised to become vegetarians, or at least to keep the "surf" out of their surf 'n turf. Or maybe Ariel serves Sebastian with a side of Flounder at her reception.

Soundtrack to this blog: The Vandals, Unseen Tears of the Albacore.

Don't ask me why I came up with all of this while I was in the shower just now. No idea.

Pride parade tonight! YAY!

You agitatin' my dots?

2006-06-12T19:11:00.000-07:00

Sorry, that's the commercial that's playing right now, and my attention span appears to be gnat-like today.

It's not summer yet, right? So it's not too late to call what I've been doing spring cleaning. I am purging this place, top to bottom. I'm finding things like books I haven't gotten around to reading... sketchbooks and journals I haven't filled... stories I've started writing and forgotten about. Maybe this time I won't regress again... maybe I'll get a real start on all of the things I want to do, and see them through, all the way. I'm vacuuming up old dried up flower petals that have fallen behind bookshelves. Washing out vases. Maybe there will be new flowers in those vases... maybe flowers, maybe something that lasts longer than flowers.

There I go, talking in metaphors....

So everyone probably knows or has guessed by now that Will and I are back together, and while we haven't exactly been shouting it from the rooftops, I suddenly want everyone to know. It feels like I've been silent for the last few months, and no one except me has really known what was going through my head. So even though I don't usually do this, I'm telling everyone how I feel. I'm tired of mystery, I'm tired of other people's uninformed interpretations of situations, and I'm tired of being reticent. I'll try to keep it simple.

Anyone I've talked to about this in the last few months knows I'm not prone to gushing, and if asked about it, I'm more likely to find something to bitch about than to get all dreamy-eyed and tell you that he's just so wonderful. I used to be that girl, but I don't do that anymore - I cynically and reluctantly float in and out of bad relationships, always waiting for the day when my issues or his issues will be the end of us. Right from the start, I look for the fatal flaw that will inevitably spell doom. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) I've usually found it, and I've been right, dead-on. By the end of things, I'm so relieved to be rid of the guy, for whatever reason. I've never considered getting back together with an ex. None of them were right for me. And I've gotten so used to these moments in time that just don't last, so drained, so ingrained in the pattern of dating, giving it as much of a fair shot as I think is warranted, then walking away to enjoy my freedom, that now I do it almost automatically.

But this time...

If you think you know what has transpired between us, chances are, you don't. Words like "confused" have been bandied about recently... well, the way I see it, that's what life is. Confusion, fear, and a lot of wandering around in the dark looking for a little bit of happiness. All I know is that I've been really, really happy these last few days. All it took was some talking... okay, a LOT of talking (I won't downplay the importance of those conversations)... and I can honestly say that I am not confused anymore. Not about this.

I have all of this newfound confidence about the whole thing. After everything that's happened, I am amazed at how good we are together, and how much better we can be. I like arguing with him, I like talking to him about nothing, I like telling him about the things that make me who I am. He really is wonderful, and I'm so glad I can see things in him that other people have overlooked, because that makes me the lucky one right now. Even luckier, considering we're working on our second chance.

He pretty much kicks ass.

And there you have it. That is all for now, and that's about as gushy as you'll see me get. Just wanted to let everyone know how happy I am, and that in case you're worried about either of us, I'm in it for the long haul.

Life is good, and I love everyone and everything.

P.S. I miss Christine. She did specifically request a new post, and she is the matchmaker... so I hope this was what she had in mind. :)

I guess I've got more trip pictures to post, don't I? Such a slacker.

Have you heard about FREE FUN???

2006-06-03T08:42:00.000-07:00

I won't deny Christine the chance to explain to everyone about free fun, but just be aware - if you don't know about free fun, you should. You have no idea what you're missing. Free fun is the BEST.

Confused yet? Yeah, so are we.

We finally made it to San Francisco. I really can't believe this is our only full day here, and that we have to leave tomorrow morning. Now that we're here, I wish I could take another week and just see this city. I hate how a night of drinking always ruins good intentions for an early start... it's approaching 9 o'clock now, and I haven't even started getting ready. We hit a few bars in the Castro with Marisa last night (naturally, I felt right at home), and we didn't make it back and get to sleep until... 4? 5? I can't remember. And we're attempting to pack way more things into the day than we'll ever be able to do. Top priorities are the Beat Museum, City Lights bookstore, the Winchester Mystery House, Amoeba, and of course, the Golden Gate Bridge. Any spare time will be filled with Fisherman's Wharf, Golden Gate Park, the Cheesecake Factory... the list goes on. I just keep telling myself that I'll be living here next year, and then I'll have all the time in the world to do whatever I want, but at the same time, who can say what next year will bring? Things turn on a dime.

Today should yield a lot of pictures and videos, to be captured using my new toy... my precious... my beloved... my holy-shit-thank-you-Heather birthday/Christmas/graduation/I don't even know gift. Apparently it never occurred to anyone to take any pictures in L.A., but we had a great (albeit short) time there. I hope my friends all like each other. I like them. :)

I tried to upload some pictures, but that's not workin at the moment, so I'll post them when I get back. This is probably my last post before it's time to go home.

Finally, as much as I'd rather be in California, I can't believe I missed a Sabres game dog party. You all suck.

We ain't in Checotah anymore...

2006-05-30T21:25:00.000-07:00

Today was full of grand displays of ineptitude and foolhardiness, from our misadventures spray painting Cadillacs in high winds to our failed attempts to camp on the harsh terrain of New Mexico. But we're having fun - enjoy the pictures of us at last night's unfortunately named campsite, my Cadillac (that's a unicorn - keep in mind, high winds and rain), and the sign for Carrie Underwood's hometown (yes, we stumbled upon that - I love American Idol, but I'm not that much of a freak to go seek that out. Besides, I voted for Bo Bice). Now it's time to nap in the parking lot of the Days Inn before our early start tomorrow, when we head out for the Grand Canyon and Vegas.

I've been catching up on a lot of sleep... I've had a lot of time to rest, and when I'm not resting, I'm thinking. There's a lot of time to reflect - this was definitely the perfect time for a trip like this. Goodnight, and I hope everyone is well.

Chaaaaaapstiiiick......

2006-05-29T10:40:00.000-07:00

Got to make this quick, because Starbucks bleeds you dry for the privelege of using their internet, and we've got to hit the road soon if we're going to make Texas by dark. We're already a bit behind, and I don't know if we're going to get to L.A. when we planned to (I'll call you when I know, Heather). But this is the trip so far... we've hit the Mothman museum, which was especially cool since I just finished reading the book, and because there was signed memorabilia from my alter ego. And we camped in Kentucky (I like Kentucky - hot and lush, and full of horses. Tomorrow should be a lot of fun - if we can fit everything in (it's supposed to be Cadillac Ranch, the Grand Canyon, and Vegas!) 'Til the next update....

If I don't seem that thrilled in this video, it's only because I hadn't had the chance to pet the horse on his pretty nose yet.

Sugar, we're going down swinging.

2006-05-07T18:45:00.000-07:00

Thank God another weekend is over. I'm not looking forward to weekends anymore, based on the way the last several have gone. From now on, I will look forward to the work week, because those have been a hell of a lot more fun lately. Ahh, the rewards of hard work, small achievements, and distant, professional relationships. My cubicle is now my haven, and those eight solitary hours are my escape from the real world.

Order Chiroptera (I'll never forget that one again.)

2006-04-12T09:47:00.000-07:00

This will be another long one, because I've been writing little bits and pieces on my lunch breaks and hitting "save as draft" over and over again for the last couple of weeks. And they've been very eventful weeks.

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It's not every day you get to see the look on your writing teacher's face when you tell her you don't have your Writers & Books folder because it got bat urine on it.

It was probably about two weeks ago now, and I found the little guy in the middle of the car lane in the parking garage. He wasn't moving a whole lot, and I don't know if he was already sick or injured, but he would have been a bat pancake if he'd stayed where he was any longer. So I took him over to the courtyard at St. Mary's. He was moving around more by then, and spreading out his wings, so I'm hoping he'll be okay. Maybe he has rabies, maybe he couldn't fly away and some animal got to him... but I like to think of a church as a sanctuary for all living things, and I imagine he was safe there. As far as I'm concerned, he lost his way and just needed a little help. I think about him every day now as I'm walking into work, because he is my friend.

One more thing - I hate people. Like the man who stopped and asked me what I was doing, and then told me to just leave the bat somewhere in the garage and forget about it, because "it's Nature's way." Sorry - Nature did not build a parking garage, let alone an entire city, in his habitat. Getting flattened by some lawyer's BMW is not a natural death. Fucker.

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I think the bat incident was the same day as the long-dreaded story critique, which went amazingly well, or at least as well as I could have hoped. I knew the response wasn't going to be, "Wow! Great story! You could get this published NOW!" I'm aware of the many problems with it, but I needed to hear from other people which ones were the most significant, and get some ideas on how to fix them. I won't go into all of the reasons why most everyone agreed it's a disaster in its current state, or all of the really great ideas they gave me that I can't wait to incorporate; instead, I will focus on the compliments I got. Like when one guy (who I thought would be horribly mean and critical) told me he was glad it was dark, and not "shinyhappy" like a lot of the stories have been so far. Or when another guy said it reminded him of Heathers and Carrie (score!). And the best - Nancy (our teacher, a very smart lady who really knows her stuff) told me that she thinks I have both the idea and the writing ability to make it into something good. She does not say this to everyone - usually she leaves it at, "You have a good idea, but you have a lot of work ahead of you. Read Strunk & White." I say that this was my ideal critique because my fear had been that I would find out that I just flat-out suck as a writer, and that they would all go around the table in class and politely tell me this without actually saying it. My wildest dream was to have them tell me that yeah, the story's not very good yet, but that I can definitely write. And that's what I got.

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So the writing nightmare is over. And the other thing I've been freaking out about for weeks on end - Kelly's wedding - has finally come and gone, with great success. This entire post is turning out to be an unmitigated ego trip, but I don't care. I KICK ASS. I'm horribly insecure about most things in life, but playing bells/chimes is the one really and truly impressive thing I can do, and I'm proud of it.

Highlights/observations/memories:

Walking down the aisle to the score from Love, Actually? Genius. I love it.

Mike and I danced to "Mandy" at the reception. One of my all-time favorite songs. I'm a Fanilow!

Why was the best man's speech the only thing that made me cry? I don't even know him! I hardly know the groom! Literally - sobbing.

There is now a wedding video somewhere in the world with footage of me dancing to Bye Bye Bye, I Want You Back, ...Baby One More Time, Hollaback Girl... my God, what kind of BFF allows this sort of behavior? He should have dragged me off the floor. Damn Kelly for loving cheesy pop as much as (or more than) I do.

I screamed "lesbian" at a church lady who came over to compliment me on my solo. Totally inadvertent.

Remind me never to move to the Beaver Falls/Midland/Monaca/Industry area of Pennsylvania. It was a hell from which I thought I would never escape. My Messiah days are far behind me, and I am 100% city girl.

If you're invited to the rehearsal dinner, GO TO THE REHEARSAL DINNER. You'll save me from not knowing anyone, and I won't have to find you a Taco Bell afterward.

*Sigh.* Weddings.

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So I think we're up to this week now. William's birthday was a success, I think. There's a lot of pressure attached to birthdays and holidays and the like. It may not have ended well for some...but I think everyone had a good time, and I'm really glad most everyone could come out. I'll post some of the fabulous, oh-so-flattering-to-all-of-us pictures a little later.

I'm dating an almost-30-year-old......huh.

It's almost a week later, and I still have lingering guilt, and probably will for a long time....because....I BOUGHT VEAL. How? How could I do such a thing? I might as well just go get myself a fur coat. And then buy a puppy mill dog from a pet store. I've got to figure out some kind of penance for this. I feel like I should go out in a field somewhere and let a cow kick me in the head repeatedly.

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Well, that's pretty much all I've got, except for a rant about work that I just don't have the energy to write, and you don't have the energy to read. I hope life is good for all. Countdown to CA!

Poetry Hour

2006-04-06T21:09:00.000-07:00

I've been told that my posts are too long, so I'll try to keep this one short.

Aside from the vomiting, this weekend was a lot of fun. It was really nice to do something different on Saturday night - one of my friends from the vet hospital had a bonfire, and I got to see some old friends and watch two sections of a very large couch go up in flames. Also, not so much fun - I got my first real dog bite since I pulled Stormy II's tail when I was little and got a bite on the nose. It's one tiny little puncture, but it bled like crazy. I'm really pissed at myself - three years at the hospital, and I never got bitten by a dog. I only ever had one real bite, and that was from a cat, as were nearly all of my injuries and close calls. I can usually read animals pretty well, (or at least, I used to be able to) but not this dog. I guess we'll never understand each other, Blade and I.

I'd really like to know why I'm so damn tired lately. I always am, but it's been really bad the last few days... I came home from work early on Friday and slept for two hours. Every time I rode in the car over the weekend, I slept. I even managed to fall asleep last night while watching gay cowboys going at it (no, come to think of it, I think I was awake for the sex scenes), and I lost count of how many times I dozed off at my desk this morning. I wish I knew what the hell was wrong with me.

Maybe I'll feel better when I've gotten through the next couple of weeks, and some stress is relieved. I have to hand in my short story in class tomorrow, and it's not really close to being finished. I have a fun night ahead of me - I'm coming home from work, grabbing some dinner, going in my room, and not coming out until it's done. And I'm sure I won't be able to sleep until the following week, when it's finally critiqued. After that, I'll get plenty of rest, because they will have completely ripped it apart, and I will have to kill myself.

Okay, maybe not. I should at least wait until the wedding, so I can play my song, which despite all my practicing, will suck. Then Kelly will hate me, and I will kill myself twice, if I can figure out some way of doing that.

I shouldn't say that, in case she's reading this. Kelly, it's going to kick ass, and your day is going to be perfect in every way.

I can't wait for the California trip. I swear, if I don't get rid of Christine soon... just kidding. I'm not looking forward to saying goodbye, that will be hard. But I really need a break from work. I need a change of scenery, that always picks me back up. Thinking about that week is good, because I know that by then, both of those other things will finally be over, and I can finally relax a little.

So this is what I call a short post?

Now that the short attention-spanned have already stopped reading, I might as well bore anyone who will listen with a few lines from some of my favorite poems. I hadn't read these in a while, but they've been on my mind lately.

Piety and conformity to them that like...I am he who tauntingly compels men, women, nations,
Crying, Leap from your seats and contend for your lives!
...Who are you that wanted only to be told what you knew before?
Who are you that wanted only a book to join you in your nonsense?

-Walt Whitman, from "By Blue Ontario's Shore"

Allons! the road is before us!
It is safe--I have tried it--my own feet have tried it well--be not detain'd!
Let the paper remain on the desk unwritten, and the book on the shelf unopen'd!
Let the tools remain in the workshop! let the money remain unearn'd!
Let the school stand! mind not the cry of the teacher!
Let the preacher preach in his pulpit! let the lawyer plead in the court, and the judge expound the law.
Comerado, I give you my hand!
I give you my love more precious than money,
I give you myself before preaching or law;
Will you give me yourself? will you come travel with me?
Shall we stick by each other as long as we live?

-Walt Whitman, from "Song of the Open Road"

...So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,
and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul too, and anyone who'll listen,
--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed by our own seed & golden hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-down vision.

-Allen Ginsberg, from "Sunflower Sutra"

Winding Road

2006-03-26T20:54:00.000-08:00

Well, the rain keeps on coming down
Feels like a flood in my head
And that road keeps on calling me
Screaming to everything lying ahead

And it's a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
Still don't know where it goes
And it's a long way home
I've been searching for a long time
I still have hope
I'm gonna find my way home

And I can see a little house on top of the hill
And I can smell the ocean, the salt in the air
And I can see you
You're standing there, and you're washing your car
And I can see California sun in your hair

And it's a winding road
I've been walking for a long time
I still don't know where it goes
And it's a long way home
I still have hope
We're gonna find our way home.

So California. Finally, after all these years, I may have my chance, and I am nothing but excited.

Since when am I Little Miss Optimism? I don't know why, but I have a really good feeling about everything that's coming. I'm pretty sure it's all going to work out just right, for all of us. True, it won't feel so hot a few months down the line when everyone else starts to leave and Mike and I go back to being lonely old married recluses. But it's that bad feeling that's going to cement my decision, because it's all of the people in my life that have made me just begin to feel content about being here. When these people are gone, I'll get restless again. I've been ready to go for a long time, but there have been a lot of things keeping me here... but now it feels like every part of my life is ready and willing to join me, and suddenly it all seems so simple. Good friends, best friend, boyfriend, even job could all be there right along with me - so what would I be leaving behind? Not a whole lot. To me, it seems like the easiest decision in the world, because the alternative would be being left behind (yes, consider for a moment what that would be like - I'd like to eliminate all possibility of that. Much easier to leave than to be left.).

Speaking of friends - and best friends - it occurred to me how much easier it would be to see Heather if I lived in San Francisco. It's not quite right around the corner from L.A., but it's a hell of a lot closer than New York. It could be a second chance at having the kind of friendship we used to have.

Someone, please give me a downside. There must be one.

The only hard part will be waiting almost a year. True, there's no guarantee that things won't change between now and then, but I've been wanting to make that move for as long as I can remember. I think it will literally take the entire state collapsing into the ocean to keep me away. If catastrophic things do happen in my own life, then I'll take it as an indication that it really wasn't meant to be. I can live with myself if the big decisions are taken out of my hands, but not if I have every opportunity to take action and I just don't. I will cross any bridge as it comes, but I can't base my decision now on things that might go wrong later.

This great idea of Christine's is one of those things that only works if we're all in.

......so, who's with me?

Life is a series of hellos and goodbyes; I'm afraid it's time for goodbye again.

2006-03-18T12:10:00.000-08:00

I'm in a bit of a state of shock. I found out the other day that the vet hospital I worked at for more than three years was just sold to the Monroe Veterinary Associaton (who, from what I'm told, are evil bastards). I don't work there anymore, and it shouldn't mean anything to me, but it feels like I've moved away from home and my parents have suddenly decided to sell the house I grew up in. The hospital was more of a fixture in my life than any other institution since high school has been...I don't think so much of my "college years" as I do of my "PVH years." I made some of the most lasting friendships of my life there, and that was where I learned what hard work was. It would be the main setting of my "coming of age story," if I were to write one.

It's frustrating, because the whole time I was there, our core group of kennel employees always talked about the day when things would change around there...when OSHA would shut the place down for safety and health code violations, when Dr. Pulver would retire/keel over and die (either would have been fine), or when we would all just walk out and go on strike. The constant refrain was "Things will never change around here." I was always desperately searching for a better job, but I also always hoped that if things did change, I would be there to see it. And now this comes, when all but one of that original crew is gone. It makes me wish I'd stuck it out and stayed on for weekends, just to see how it all went down. It sounds like it might be bad for the doctors and techs, but I'm guessing that once the place is run by actual professionals, things could get quite a bit better for the kennel staff. I've always thought about going back someday, and I've always hoped that despite our differences, if I ever really, really needed a job and had nowhere else to turn, Dr. Pulver would let me come back. I wouldn't be the first to come crawling back years after quitting. But that won't be much of an option now, with Monroe running the place. I guess this really is goodbye.

* * * *

I should be working on my short story right now. That's going nowhere fast. I could at least be reading the two stories I'll have to critique on Tuesday...I was so unprepared for class last week, and I don't want that to happen again. Maybe if I spent a little less time killing brain cells, and a little more time being productive...

My first celebration of St. Patrick's Day was interesting, to say the least. Wasted Potash was just about the funniest damn thing I've ever seen. Green beer, my only preconception about the holiday, is apparently a myth. Two bars, and nothing but garden-variety regular-colored beer to be seen. And somehow, I never managed to get really drunk. Happy, slightly buzzed, irritable, happy again, hyper-emotional, sullen, slutty, happy yet again, and back to irritable, but never truly inebriated. What a disappointment.

* * * *

Yes, I'm putting scene breaks in my blog. My thoughts are jumping all over the place, and I've got to organize them somehow.

I've been kind of a bitch lately, and there's someone I should apologize to (you know who you are...if you're not sure, then it's not you). I don't want to be that way, but I can't seem to get myself to stop doing it. There's no excuse. I'm really in need of some time alone, to regroup, reflect, and rediscover myself. Ever just feel the need to run away from it all? Just run like hell, and damn the consequences. There's a possible move in my future, and a couple of road trips that I'm really looking forward to...but I want to run NOW. Just get in my car and drive, go to a new place all alone, and just be in that place without having to be anything in particular. When you're always around other people, even the people you're closest to, there's always an expectation for how you have to be, always at least a little bit of pressure, even if it's just the pressure to be kind when all you feel like doing is lashing out. You can never just do or say whatever comes to mind, because it will inevitably hurt someone. I feel like all I've done lately is hurt people. And it's exhausting. I need to change it.

Speaking of change, today is the start of my new healthy lifestyle. That's about the 50th new start I've given myself, but I think I mean it this time. I'm going places this summer; I'm travelling, and going to beaches, and I want to be hot. I don't just want to be somewhere around the 70th percentile of reasonably attractive girls (probably a generous assessment) - I want to be smokin' hot. I've done nothing but sit on my ass and eat burritos for the last few weeks, and all my clothes are getting just a little bit tighter. But that's it - I mean it this time - I'm really going to work on myself. Salads! Exercise every day! Restraint! Yes!

'Brokeback' was robbed.

2006-03-06T08:56:00.000-08:00

I'm pretty irritated by the outcome of lasts night's Oscars. My initial reaction was more surprised than angry, because I never expected anything other than Brokeback Mountain to win Best Picture, and the Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Director wins seemed to be leading up to it. It had occurred to me there might be an upset, because the winner never turns out to be who I think or hope it will be. I would have guessed Capote, if anything. But Crash? Shocked. Annoyed. Not, however, as infuriated as I thought I'd be. Do I think it deserved to win? No. Not in a million years. But at the same time, much like Brokeback Mountain, it deals with an issue close to my heart, and I'm glad to see it get some recognition. I think it's because of certain recent events/confrontations, and my deep, persistent anger over those events that I'm so quick to stand by it. It's definitely a movie that forces you to think about things in a whole new way, whether or not you agree with the way in which it does that (schmaltz, shameless pandering, etc. - I'll admit it) So they accomplished something there.

I do think that everyone should see Crash at least once, and take it as a chance to examine themselves and their viewpoints. That said, I think everyone should see Brokeback Mountain as many times as possible, and I understand why it's so significant that it didn't win. It was about more than saying "this movie is better than that movie": like it or not, it boiled down to the issues at stake, and racism is a much safer issue than homosexuality. For Brokeback to win Best Picture would have been a very important statement. As it is, it looks like all those nominations it got were merely obligatory. At the same time, the Oscars are NOT the be-all and end-all, and as someone on the red carpet said, it's still a "watershed." The fact that made such an impact on mainstream culture and has people talking means more than this little technicality.

When I really start thinking about it, it's the Acting categories that make me angrier than anything. I definitely would have given Best Supporting Actress to Michelle Williams (she kicked ass playing me in 10 years or so), and Best Actor to Heath Ledger - I mean, what's the point if Hoffman didn't even bark his speech? But most of all, it bothers me not so much that Gyllenhaal didn't win Best Supporting Actor, but the fact that he was nominated for Best Supporting Actor. How is that in ANY way a supporting role? Okay, so the movie focuses ever so slightly more heavily on Heath Ledger's character (this is more true of the short story, but we're not talking about the short story here). If this had been a story about a heterosexual couple, and both leads were nominated, they would have been up for Best Actor and Best Actress. Were they scared of nominating both of them for Best Actor? Why? Something seems very wrong there. If they both deserved a nomination, they should have both been nominated in the appropriate category.

I didn't intend for this rant to be as long as it is, but I could probably keep going even longer. If there's one thing I never, ever want to be accused of, it's not sticking by the things I believe in. I don't think anyone can ever be too vocal about their opinions, if they're passionate about them.

But go ahead and disagree.

Walking on sunshine.

2006-02-23T14:03:00.000-08:00

I started this on Thursday, but then I got busy - and drunk - and never posted it. Here you go.

I am happy right now. Yes - happy. Exhilarated, even. I feel like nothing can touch me, nothing can bring me down. I feel like I have been looking for something forever, and I've finally found it. I feel like every decision I've made until now has been the right one, because they have all brought me to this point, and no choice I can make or path I can follow from this point on can be the wrong one.

I had a really good day at work. I like my job. I like my life. I did actual work today. It was hard, I did it well, and when I was finished, I felt proud of what I had done. I feel as though I am doing something I've always been meant to do (not the one thing I was meant to do - I am meant to do so much more).

Things are not perfect. Money is tight, and my student loan payments have just started up. But even that's okay, at least at the moment. If money runs out, well, I've been looking for an excuse to go back to working with animals. I won't do it unless I absolutely have to, but if it comes to that, a part time job anywhere where I could play with dogs would be wonderful. I still really want the dog trainer job at PetSmart...maybe the third time applying would be the charm. Like I said, only if I really had to, which probably won't happen...but I would welcome the excuse. I could even go back to the hospital. I would give up my free time to do that. It's crazy - I want to do things. I want to be productive. I want to use my time well instead of wasting it away.

Now. To anyone reading this whose life is falling apart, and who wants to tell me to shove it, please understand a few things. First, this will not last. Maybe it's just one of those "ups" that often precedes the "downs," and maybe what comes after will be just as bad as this is good. Second, I have been borderline suicidal for as long as I can remember. I have never enjoyed my life, or had a time when I didn't wish everything would change. I've never wanted to do things - I've only ever wanted to lie around and hide and wait for time to pass. So this is huge for me.

There are two things I do not want to hear from my friends right now. They are:

1) "I don't want to hear how good your life is, because mine sucks ." Just be happy for me, and with me - please? I don't know how to go about not being the most miserable person I know at any given time, so give me a chance to learn how to take care of you, instead of always needing to be the one taken care of.
2) On the days where I'm not feeing the way I do right now - "Stop being unhappy. You've got nothing to complain about." Not fair. I have, and probably always will have, a generally depressive personality. I've always hated happy people, too. Know that this will not last, it will all come crashing down around me soon enough, and I just want to enjoy this while I have it. I don't want to have to feel guilty for being okay, because I've waited 23 goddamn years for this.

Now I'm off to meet up with my friends from the hospital, because one of them is leaving. Almost all of the original crew are gone, off to bigger and better things. It's sort of sad - that place and those people meant more to me on a personal level, and had more of an impact on my life than possibly any other place in the world. Look at where I am now - where I live, who I live with, who my closest friends are - all directly or indirectly linked to that place I cursed every day. I won't deny how much I hated it - but I loved it all the same, and I have to thank it.

Side note - go see Eight Below. It is the single greatest piece of film I've seen this year, and it will change your life. Look for Maya and Max as leading contenders in next year's Oscar race. I've never seen such brilliant acting performances from any cats - have you?

Random photographs

2006-02-15T17:50:00.000-08:00

I just got a camera developed, and the pictures went back farther than I thought. They cover a span of time from last summer to now.

Everyone remember this?

Doesn't that feel like so long ago now?

If I remember correctly, these are the flowers Mike got me when I was depressed because I didn't get the paralegal job the first time around. Of course, I didn't know I should have been celebrating that near-escape, as that place was about to completely ruin my life for the next four months. At any rate, he is a true BFF.

Our bunnies, Trillian (left) and Morrigan (right), when we first got them.

Here's my last day at Relin, Goldstein & Crane. There's my first very own cubicle (with the desk looking neater than it ever had before), and that's my crazy friend Jamie next to me. Looking at this fills me with a mixture of nostalgia and nausea. Thank God it's over.

And now to the present....

Yeah, he looks thrilled to be with me. Like he's been sucking on a lemon.

The wedding song

2006-02-11T01:37:00.000-08:00

This is what I'm playing next month(!). I wasn't sure at first if it was fitting, because it's about the time when you're still looking for the right person, and they've already found each other. But it reminds me so much of the Kelly I knew way back when, before she met Ryan, when she was always looking for "The One." Besides, I can secretly dedicate it to all of the sad single people at the wedding.

I Know Him By Heart

There's a secret path I follow
To a place no one can find
Where I meet my perfect someone
I've kept hidden in my mind
Where my heart makes my decisions
'Til my dream becomes a vision
And the love I feel makes him real someday

'Cause I know he's out there somewhere
Just beyond my reach
Though I've never really touched him
Or ever heard him speak
Though we've never been together,
We've never been apart
No, we've never met
Haven't found him yet
But I know him by heart

Am I living an illusion?
Wanting something I can't see
If I compromise, I'd be living lies
Pretending love's not meant to be
'Cause I know my heart's worth saving
And I know that he'll be waiting
So I'll hold on, and I'll stay strong 'til then

'Cause I know he's out there somewhere
Just beyond my reach
Though I've never really touched him
Or ever heard him speak
Though we've never been together,
We've never been apart
No, we've never met
Haven't found him yet
But I know him by heart

Yawn.

2006-02-09T11:38:00.000-08:00

I'm at work. I've been staring at a PDF since 8 am, and I feel like someone punched me in both eyes. I'm finally finished with it, and I've got nothing to do, but my trainer has told me that he is busy for the next half hour, and to try him again at 3. So I sit, and I wait.

I played chimes for Kelly the other day, and thank God she liked one of the songs. It sucks to work really hard on music for a month, and when the songs actually start to sound the way they're supposed to, you realize you hate them. One of the two rejects wasn't so bad, but it didn't put me in that wedding mood. She didn't like either one of them. But she seemed to absolutely love the third one, which is a huge relief. I was worried that she wouldn't like any of them, and I'd have to search for music and start all over again; or that she'd sort of like them, but not LOVE them. I wanted her to hear the music and say, "Yes, I want that in my wedding." Not only did she say that, but she also said that if I perfect it, people will be trying to hire me after the wedding to play for them. This is why I miss playing bells - it was always such an ego boost. It's the only thing I've ever been able to say that I am damn good at. Incidentally, the winning song is "I Know Him By Heart" by Vonda Shepard. I'll post the lyrics on here eventually, because I love them.

I get such a thrill out of stupid little things. Some woman just came by and brought me my official nameplate for my cubicle. Until now, there's just been a piece of paper with my name on it, held up by thumbtacks. I want to take a picture of it. I said so, and the lady looked at me like I was nuts, and left as quickly as she could. I have my camera, but the flash may draw too much attention. Maybe I'll camp out here until everyone's gone.

Or maybe not.

Almost three - I guess I had better go. To sit. And wait.

I'm a lemming.

2006-02-06T17:58:00.000-08:00

So I'm jumping on this bandwagon now, because I haven't touched my LiveJournal in months, and this seems to be where all the action is.

First of all, I am immensely creeped out right now. We were sitting in the living room watching TV a couple of minutes ago, and the buzzer for the door went off. We weren't expecting anyone, so I pressed the intercom and said, "Hello?" When I pressed "listen," all I could hear was someone breathing very heavily. We looked out the window, and no one was there. We considered possible weapons to use in self-defense, and waited for a guy with a chainsaw to break down the door, but he never came. He's probably waiting until we fall asleep. So if this is my last chance to say goodbye to the world, then...goodbye...world. Yeah, that's all I've got. Prank phone calls I'm used to, but someone at my door? *shudder.*

Serial killers aside, I'm in an odd place in life right now. I'm sort of...almost...relatively...happy, and I don't know what to do with that. Things on the surface all seem to be going my way for once, and as per usual, I'm just waiting for them to fall apart. I'm more comfortable with things in pieces, which is why I'll do just about anything to destroy them. I'm not quite there yet, but self-destruct mode is sure to set in with a vengeance any day now. Maybe it's already here. I feel like lately I'm sending myself in too many directions, trying to make everyone happy...everyone but myself. I want to be the kind of person who does and says what she wants, and who doesn't give a damn about what other people think. At the same time...I want people to like me for it. I want everyone to think I'm happy, because it feels like they're all looking at me these days and saying, "What's she got to complain about?" And all the time I'm got a million different things going on inside, and I'm trying so hard to be less of an emotional wreck all the time, but I don't think I'm as nice or as genuine a person as I once was. I never did know how to strike a balance.

With all of that said, if you think you know what I'm talking about, you're probably way off. I'm going to shock anyone who knows me at all and say that the one thing that actually does make some sense right now is....drumroll....relationships. You all know I've been "seeing" someone, and although my roommate might beg to differ on this point, this may be the least overthinking I've ever done about anything. I've just been taking things as they come, keeping things in perspective, and trying to enjoy it all. And my reward for being sensible is that I've sort of been swept off my feet. My expectations have been lowered dramatically over the years by guys who thought they knew what girls wanted, but didn't have a clue. It's actually a very simple equation - flowers, nice dinner, dancing, not being a jackass (ah, here comes the pent-up bitterness)...you know what? It's all common sense. You put in a little effort, you actually listen to her, and you just might be a keeper.

So. It's a new year, and I have a whole lot of things I need to work on. But I've got a lot going for me, too. We'll see what I can accomplish, if I lay off the Jagerbombs for a while.