Yesterday, when I came back to you, I looked back to see if some of the people I'd introduced to you had stuck around longer than I. In doing so I noticed that Emerson Dameron came back for a two month affair.A comparison of my visits and his show that clearly he is the more cruel lover. He stayed with you nearly all of 2002 and then left. I, on the other hand, have always come and gone.
I won’t make promises I can’t keep; won’t tell you this is forever. I promise I will stay through the winter.
Living in the furniture-less apartment was disconcerting but comfortable at the same time. You don't have to know much about symbolism to recognize the fresh start feel of a white, empty apartment with a couch in the living room, queen sized bed (a mattress on a plain stand, really) in the bedroom. The high polish hardwood floors and stainless steel appliances made it stunning. I love the modern look. And yet, the whole time there I never quite got used to it. Just like I haven't gotten used to the house we've since bought. Everything comes full circle. We’ll return,
I am very stressed today.I am very stressed today.I am very stressed today.I am very stressed today.I am very stressed today.I am very stressed today.I am very stressed today.I am very stressed today.
I am very stressed today.
Hormones? What do they look like? Are they a thing? Or simply a chemical that races through our blood? Released from glands at times of trauma. Physical. Emotional. Monthly. Whatever. Throwing off our psyche, causing tears. Rage. Anger. Raised voices. All day stay in beds. Yesterday my hormones must have been out of whack. It may have something to do with the incredible pressure I was put under, unfairly, squeezing me like a lemon pressed onto the metallic pointy nipple to steal its delicious juice.
Why he started is a mystery. Really, he was just curious. He didn't have a grand plan; no big intention. He was just curious. And bored. A deadly combination.Walking for weeks, he camped in the desert each night. Never far enough off the road that he couldn't see it, but far enough that he couldn't be seen. His fire was shielded by his body, the tent, a strong desire to remain unseen. In the night he read the books picked up along the way, stuffing them into his backpack, leaving them in restaurant booths or park benches when finished.
Michael laughed, a laugh so devoid of joy the man shrunk back even further. He didn't understand. For years, living in Vermont, he'd picked up hikers along the Appalachian trail, brought them into town, even bought a few lunch. It was part of life: to help those crazy enough to walk from Georgia to Maine. After graduating from college, he'd spent that last responsibility-free summer doing the hike he’d always thought crazy. The six of them flew to Georgia; ready for adventure."You... should... have... listened... to... your... mother!" each word punctuated the sickening pound of tire iron on face.
The IKEA lamp on my desk is cylindrical and ugly but I love it. I love ugly lamps. And I love the calming effect going through the colored stripes has on me.
I love my job. There is no better job out there. It's insane and I have a massive amount of stress but I got a hug tonight from someone I truly respect because she wanted to let me know that as rough as things are, she appreciates me. This is important because it doesn't always happen -- the nice moments. And when they do, they remind me of why it is that I do this work. And love it. I don't love hugs, per se, but I love to help people and fight for the things in which I believe.
Of all the animals, Mugsy's personality is the most multi-faceted. Knuckles is always happy and Spike is always chatty and affectionate. But Mugsy is sweet, moody, spiteful, belligerent... my own little teenager wrapped in the dressings of a dog. She is the only dog I know who has such an extensive range of personality. So much so that she rules our home.This morning Kris woke me and I gave him grief for it, but in a joking way. She shook and looked miserable, "You're fighting?" But offer her the chance to go outside and she's excited and puppy like.
Last night three of us went to a performance at the Kerrytown Concert House. A man stood on stage and shared with us worn photocopies of things sent to him. Things people found. Letters, to do lists, not to do lists, contracts... and he shared what was in them; shared the stories surrounding them.When he got to one that was from Burlington, Vermont, I was overtaken with panic. Clearly these letters were written by one, with the intent to be read by another. What about me? My letters? What if something I'd written was found. Shared on this stage?
One of these days I'm going to
learn that when I block not only the DAY of an arbitration but also the day
AFTER the hearing I get my brief done with little anxiety. This whole
waiting until it's down to the wire and trying to get it written, while it still
works, causes way to much anxiety and forces me to inevitably work on a Sunday,
which is no fun. I'd rather be only doing personal, fun writing on
Sundays. Not work writing. Novel, screenplay, blog... good stuff.
Briefs? Not so good. Not entirely bad, but definitely nerve
I remember E at lunch, talk of her December birthday. "I'll get my license way before all of you." We didn't even have our permits. Maybe we were freshman.
I countered, "If you get your license the day you turn seventeen, and I get my license the day I turn 17 we'll have waited the same amount of time,"
She didn't like that.
On my seventeeth birthday, mom picked me up, took me to the DMV where I was handed plastic-coated freedom. I waved to E the next day when I drove into school and she sat on her bus.
I started watching Lost a few weeks ago. Since then, I've wondered how it is that I never watched it before. It all started with L, who was obsessed, but I never really got into it. I did watch one episode. They found some numbers on a piece of a plane. Maybe. I don't know. And that was kind of compelling but not enough to watch.
S, a friend I made recently, was talking about it and I figured, "Why not?" Then I realized I could watch it on my computer via netflix and I did.
And now I'm hooked.
On Wednesday mornings I usually meet with S for a bit of writing. This started during NaNoWriMo and has continued into a weekly time for us to drink lattes and "write".
By "write" I mean:
- talk about Lost, childhood, blogging, blogs we like, blogs we'd like to write, things people do that annoy us- maybe scratch out a paragraph or two, or my 100 words entry for the day- laugh- talk about beer while laughing and talking about lots of non-writing related things
While we accomplish nothing this has become my favorite morning of the week.
I was standing. About to knock on the door. It was simple. Raise hand, make fist, snap wrist in a forward-ish motion two or three times in order to make a sound that raises the attention of those inside, causing them to lower their voices, look at each other and immediately try to recall what was just said; what the person on the other side could have overheard. Instead, as I raised my arm and didn’t have time to make a fist before I was laying on my side, on my arm, elbow cocked awkwardly and feeling less than nice.
I have the flu. Fever, aches, pains, mucus. Lots of mucus. There is no way I can get behind the wheel and drive so instead I have asked Kris to help me move the loveseat in front of the computer so that I can sit and watch the rest of Season 2 of Lost. There’s something to be said for being sick. Even though it isn’t pleasant, it’s nice to be forced to just slow down and let your body do what it needs to do to be better.
And, the animals are thrilled that I’m home on a weekday.
New Year's Resolutions never worked for me. Each year I would come up with something I was either going to start or stop doing but it never lasted. Until last year. I committed to 100words.com and stuck around for months. And then with K we made a NYR to stop shopping at chain stores and buying things that weren't American made. We stuck with it and are better for it. This year? Yup, we have a new joint NYR. We’re joining the gym near our house. Met with them today. It’s very nice. Four times a week. Will we succeed?
Today is someone's birthday. Someone I'm connected to somehow. I don't know who, though, but since yesterday, when someone said it was the nineteenth, I knew that today was someone's birthday that I know, but I don't know who.Isn't that strange? I think it is. How can I possibly know that it's someone's birthday but not know who? Mid last sentence I remembered whose birthday. Oh, that makes me feel better.
I have never been a fan of Sunday birthdays. I like Saturday birthdays the best. Fridays are a close second. Sundays, though, are a horrid day all around.
Every year, in very early November, I go onto the HeroArts website and select the holiday card I'll make that year. Two years ago was my crowning achievement... a card I wish I could make every year. It started as something to try and turned into a blissful weekend of music, sitting by the fireplace, and enjoying the quiet focus of doing something artistic. Last year I picked a card and for whatever reason didn't like it (it simply didn't compare to the year before). I was behind schedule and didn't enjoy it. I decided to buy cards this year.
I haven’t filled all of them out. I haven’t gotten them in the mail. Today is TUESDAY and Christmas is FRIDAY. Apparently I hate store-bought cards even more than I hate cards you make at home that don’t turn out well.
So next year it’s back to making them myself… some iteration of the card from two years ago would be best, so that I like it and am therefore motivated to do it. It’s a good way to celebrate the end of NaNoWriMo… I’d like to roll them together.
I think I might be crazy. But that’s okay, right?
There is something very refreshing about the first day of vacation. Kind of a mental health day, really. Especially when it's a work vacation that's built in. If I take a work vacation, it's usually because we're travelling. But then there's that magical vacation they give us for the December holidays that is completely free... no use of vacation or compensatory time. Which means guilt-free, call-free time to do what I want to do. Today that's get some things done around the house so that the rest of the break, while here, I can write. And to edit my NaNoWriMo.
Everything is relative. I drive a little over 30 miles to my job every day, about 35-40 minutes (thank God for Michigan freeways); throughout the course of my day I drive in the field for meetings. It's rare that I have a day where I'm just at the office. K, however, works from home. He never commutes. Last week K's VPN access stopped working because of a mistake at IT and now he has had to drive, for two days, to Dearborn. He’s annoyed by this. 70 miles roundtrip for two days is nothing compared to 100+ miles every day.
I just turned around because K said, "It's snowing out now!" which could mean anything... like that he's being silly or dropping rice in the garbage. But no, it's snowing. Big time. Lots of flakes. Big flakes. Kind of coming sideways.I like a fresh blanket of snow. As long as there's lots of it... with nothing peeking through. A few years ago we got slammed with snow. I had to go to Southfield; I can't remember why. The earth was covered in clean white snow, the sound my tires made crunching was pure bliss. I hope we get that.
I should be somewhere in Ohio right about now, possibly crossed into Pennsylvania. That's because I'm supposed to be driving to Long Island. I'm glad I didn't because the snow just started and from the looks of it, there’s going to be tons. Instead I'll spend my week off in Ann Arbor. Which isn't terrible. Relaxation, lots of writing, Lost, trips to the gym. This could actually be a really great week.If I could get up and write every morning that would really be excellent. I write best in the morning and rarely have this kind of morning time.
Surprisingly, I'm not in any pain this morning. Yesterday’s workout was definitely more tough than usual and yet I'm feeling okay. I have to say, I'm glad K and I joined the athletic club up the road. I don't get ANY exercise anymore and, although I never thought I'd say this, it feels really good to go. Our official membership starts tomorrow, at which point I'll feel more comfortable using more of their services; for now we're on a free pass. I've been doing cardio, not very much strength training; that will come later when K and I take Bosu.
I didn't know they made sports' bras for women with big boobs. This could end my current hang-up regarding running: the uncontrollable bounce and the pain the next day. No good.Apparently there are LOTS of sports' bras for those of us who have a tremendously huge chest (which I hate, but whatever, it's mine). This is all so very exciting. I'm planning on heading out today to a few different shops to see if I can find one. How sad it is that my life has become sitting at my computer on a Monday morning excited about sports’ bras?
I wonder what people think of us when we shop. Not all of our shopping, but some of these recent trips have yielded a bizarre, um, yield of purchases. The other night at Blockbuster. Renting Scanner Darkly and 2001: A Space Odessey, and standing in the snacks debating salty or sweet (both!). What must these people think?
Or being at Meijer in the middle of the night buying dreidels and cheesecake.
A showercap at Ulta. Nothing else. Okay, that one might be less weird.
And I can't even imagine what the fine folks of iTunes think of our account activity.
Around eight tonight K noticed a bump on our younger dog's back in a place that you would have to be an idiot not to notice, which means it came on quickly. It was just a bump; not squishy like a boil or blister or pimple. No broken skin, oozing, bleeding. It didn’t bother the dog. He lets us touch it and stays still for us to look at it, he's eating, he's drinking, he doesn't have gastric distress of any kind so we're going to bed thinking I'll take him to the vet tomorrow unless it goes away completely.
The dog is okay for now. It was a sebaceous adenoma, something to which he is apparently prone and which may keep coming back. It was pretty gross at the vet, but I'm happy that he is okay. If it comes back quickly they're going to do some surgery - cutting out the area so that he doesn't keep getting them. For now it's a shaved area around the wound (kind of looks like a bullet hole) and antibiotics. It must be said, it's kind of funny that Knuckles has so many nicks and scars. His name totally fits him.