All and Sundry

Sometimes I glance at the titles of these posts and swear that they’re repeats.  It’s a curious thing.  Your life is rarely fascinating on a daily basis, but over time, I think, it gains this patina where looking backwards, the threads and themes seem to take on a color and radiance they never have when you think of this as a Saturday night

Right now, sitting on just this spot on the couch, I can look up through the skylight and see a rice paper moon, just slightly reduced – I don’t know if it’s greatly waxen or slightly waning – but it is centering its moonbeams on me.  It’s kind of lovely.

I have done well today.  I have actually accomplished some housework that needed doing without the pressure of some sort of formal inspection to get me to take it on.  There is now no longer a pile of laundry on the couch alongside me, nor is there a pile on my bed or on my bedroom floor.  All, save a little pile of dishtowels, is washed and put where it ought.  I’m sure there’s some stray shirts and things and I do have a pile here for giveaway of my mountain of ugly old t-shirts that I’ve been wearing for sleep.  Surely no woman alive needs fifty of those things.  They don’t fit in the drawer and what I’d like is some pretty pajamas.  Sleepwear, if we feel like we want to tip our noses back, certainly, we wouldn’t use the word lingerie…that would be silly.  But something pretty to traverse the land of Nod would be much better than dry, ultra-cottony festival and brewery t-shirts would be grand.   So, yes, an achievement.

Also, I made my own lunch.  Cooked up some tortellini and ate that with carrots as if that’s a thing people do.  Utilize the items in their cupboards instead of tooling around and spending extra money to overeat.   Besides, we got the chance to do that later, to a degree.  And I put Midori into my punch and it tasted like shit so I am actually not drinking ALL the sugar today.

Speaking of things diurnal (though actually, at the moment quite nocturnal), I need to brush my teeth.

And as for the rest of it, I’ve been dipping in and out of Ezio and Altair’s lives and just enjoying it.  Just running around Constantinople and making life hard for the Templars.   That and a little tiny bit of flicka-flicka on the ukulele.

It was really extraordinarily quiet.  But I love days like this.  It makes me feel earnest in my happiness because it feels earned.  My legs almost ache a tiny bit from all the running around and doing dishes.  It makes me feel like there are soft places where I can dig out some of the rot and make this place special as it should be.  I should live somewhere nice and I shouldn’t trash it.

I always got bad marks in respects own and others’ property on my report cards.  I just feel like I’m some place else and things are things, they’ll take care of themselves.  But most things don’t.  Which is a drag, but true, and what’s also true is if you take care of something it’s the way you need it when you need it to work.  Trying to remember and respect that.

Rex Manning Day

Here is today’s foothold of truth.  Keep busy.  The days will run by and you may have your regrets and your little troubles, but keep busy and you’ll keep yourself above board.  And that’s a safe place to be until you get a grip on your bigger dreams and better name and your wisdom starts to turn a soft yellow in front of your eyes.

There was a cashier at Office Max.   He had a giant belt buckle.  A belt buckle bigger than God.  And when you go up to the desk with your USB drive that you aren’t even sure you need to buy, but doesn’t everyone need a spare flashdrive for general flashing purposes and it takes all your willpower not to gaze at that belt buckle, so silvery-steely and cast in the shape in the shape of a giant lion head with an impressively coiffed and vicious mane blowing in the hypothetical wind.  Such a belt buckle must mean something, you think, if not psychological, then it must imply some geekish interests, some simpatico of understanding that you both must have.  And you are utterly aware of the shirt and the push-up bra and the precarious state of your apparel and you smile and ignore any implications in the situation and take your USB drive and your receipt and some finagling with the card reader and go, leaving the young man with the massive belt buckle to whatever devices such a man would employ. 

My love life, ladies and gentlemen.

What am I thinking about tonight as the sands slip through the hourglass and the countdown begins before I attempt the bed and dreamlife of a much better person, one who makes glib light of belt buckles and can rest soundly on a bed of nails is this.  I am profoundly graceless, I am messy and self-involved and terrible.  These are personality flaws I cannot disavow because they are embroidered in the fabric of my body, little colored flosses of defect that flourish and border my white linen.  But I am not incommodious.  I am not ungenerous.  I do not fail to try hard to make things pleasant and to cut away the frayed, stained bits.  This is not so obvious, perhaps, not 100% of the time, but I hope and I pray that tomorrow, my grand idea of ease and delight for this process will go as it should.  I have worked my fingers to the bone and I think some of my aches and pains can be owed up to this devil-may-care attention to the project and I want, more than anything, for the images to load and the jurors to review them and for the day to quickly and well.

Once tomorrow is over, somehow, we can lower the dial and get back to summer, frenetic and ridiculous, but not belonging to me.  Summer is a whole universe of change and motion and progress and plans and I can be a cog in them.   Not a fancy pants director of anything.

Mainly, I don’t want anyone to yell and I don’t want to be late.


So, I need to go and get my external hard drive so that I can listen to a cover of “Friday”…yes, you know…that song.  Here, I’ll go one step further and find a link:

Ah, it’s really lovely, and I like to listen to it now on Fridays and breathe in deeply and ponder the joy of at least one day off…sleeping in and shopping and self-care, working out these excruciating pains in my neck.   Yes, Rebecca Black, you brought one nice thing into the world if not by your own volition.

This was an interesting day.  Quite interesting.

So, I got a raise.  With the co-workers away, the boss took me out to lunch and talked about my hard work and my five year anniversary and that I keep the place together and gave me a pretty sizable raise.   I’d noticed of course that Wednesday was admin professionals day and as it does every year, it passed without incident and I was not expecting this at all.  I would have cried, I think, if I wasn’t so shocked.

This tells me that a. I need to stop bitching about being the sow of the universe or whatever terrible semantics I use when I’m overtaxed and mad at myself for being unable to do anything constructive to help alleviate the stress.  I may well be overtaxed and overwhelmed, but it isn’t unnoticed or uncared about and it isn’t without purpose.  b.  they’re possibly nervous about me leaving which blows my mind since I’m in constant fear of being fired for incompetence and general disorder.

Then, after realizing how much work there is left to do before the Sunday jurying (not an inordinate amount…just…a lot of little things that only I am aware of.), I tried very hard to half-way, silently, busy office lady in tall boots and a disproportionate amount of cleavage style flirt with the printing delivery guy.  I tried and that’s all I’m reporting and I’m only reporting it for the record so that when they look back on my life, they don’t say she was entirely emotionally withdrawn.  Emily Dickinson becomes a thousand monsters because she told it slant.  Not that she cared I’m sure, not that I do.  But for posterity.  The record.

Then! I had a piece of blackberry scone in honor of two people who loved enough to bother with the amount of bother it would take to get married in front of 90000 billion people.

Then a guy emailed me on okcupid and it’s rare that I get an email to respond to on there, but I know the pattern.  I email back twice and then drift off like an evil tease and I don’t mean to be, it’s just I’m entirely emotionally withdrawn?  Something? An evil judgy tease who makes the big bucks.   You want to change, but really, you want an overnight miracle.   Not being good enough for anyone except, you know, anyone who wants you…in which case, you can hardly bear their presence is…not really a state of mind that’s going to win you many friends.  Rather just be friends with people, rather just be human and kind and learning.  But learning means talking to people.  Listening.  Writing back even when you’re still deciphering if you don’t want someone because you’re not attracted to them or you don’t want them to fuck up your structured, self-contained life.

Hmmm.  Let’s meditate, percolate, and ultimately fuck off and go play Mass Effect instead of pondering over that.

So, weekend:   Creativity.  Cleaning.  Food/exercise.  Humor.   Laughing because everything is beautiful and nothing hurts.


There’s a great quote in Miranda where she talks about becoming “a new me.”  I won’t post it here to distort my count, but basically, she wants to be one of those women who have it together, are Janies on the spot and are not the awkward miserable people she sometimes and in some ways sees herself as.

Today, I could have really used a new me.  Because the old me is doing things completely worthy of a Miranda episode like leaving the house to get food with two different shoes on.  No, really.  I woke up from a nap and sort of gathered myself so ridiculously quickly that it wasn’t until I got out at the restaurant that shall not be named when I realized was wearing different shoes and also my jeans were way too short over my bright white socks and basically I looked like…an idiot?  Is that too unkind to say?  This would also be the day where the makeup was decent and the coat was okay and there was a nice guy holding the door for me at said restaurant and I had to completely shuffle along with my head down on account of the fact that I was wearing TWO DIFFERENT SHOES.  God.

But other than random moment of FAIL, today wasn’t that bad.  I did go over to my parents and am 99% done with my taxes, just need one more form, I think.  Our most wonderful aunt came over and we did take a walk just as prescribed yesterday which was good, a very good start.  Also, we did figure out how we were going to do our July vacation/trip to my cousin’s wedding in Minneapolis and booked the flights which astonished me that we were able to get done without major fighting and rolling of eyes and shoulders.  No car crashes to or from, either, though I need to stop listening to the same 3 songs on the Apocalyptica CD otherwise, I may burn right through the cd and set the car on fire.

In the light of a successful weekend, I am writing this post and friend tweeting and feeling not wholly uncreative or ill-humored so I feel that’s something of a success to note.  I also did read today and I did have water.  Edging closer to not necessarily a new me, but a less whiny, self-doubting version of the current me which is a joyful result.

Uh, what else?

I am not looking forward to tomorrow, but who is?  I’m kind of crunched in every single way with trying to get things done that should have been done ages ago and dealing with the drama of the co-workers and the growing suspicion that I need to just be away from them for a long, long time and I can’t have that right now, so I am just going to get some sleep tonight (after hopefully flipping the mattress of evil) and promise that I’ll take small steps forward to make things not only better for myself, but awesome.


And Not a Drop to Drink

Oh, my stomach is roiling like only a sea full of sulfuric stomach acid can roil.  Every tide seems to threaten my whole gorge with its corrosive reach.

I’m drinking water, which is not the most effective solution chemistry-wise, but I don’t really have anything else that sounds palatable.  I’ve made the mistake of being so hungry yesterday and not eating protein or anything that today I thought I could somehow make up for it all at once.  Not really a great idea.

Today’s been pretty productive for a while, anyway. We got a shredder!  So I’m getting ready to just run some mail through that’s been sitting around and waiting for just that treatment.  Also, we got lunch and the hot and spicy spices of the lunch plus my weird craving for very cold Starbucks (it was not quite cold enough or I didn’t drink it fast enough despite pounding it down like a son of a bitch) is what’s causing me the intestinal distress I’m suffering right now.  That and my own stupidity regarding food lately.   I just feel very porous, if that’s a way one can feel.  Obviously, it must be.

I do want to apologize for yesterday’s exercise in non compos mentis.  I don’t know exactly where my head was at, but it filled up my social bar to overflowing and it was great to just skype with my friends and feel like this was the only worthwhile thing in the world. We stayed up till nearly 2:00am, bullshitting and planning deviant and fantastically terrible plans.

But that hasn’t ruined today’s very serious, organizational, infrastructure-investing plans.  We did get the front room in order and we bought actual things for actual cleaning today and not just more cubicles and folders that are going to add to the crap that have to be cleaned up even though we think we’re going to sit down and organize our lives into cubicles and folders all in one quick go.  Let me tell you from all my lengthy experience that never, ever happens.  So instead, we’ve got stuff to clean the carpet, the shredder, some wipes for the bathroom, etc, etc, tmi, tmi.   I vacuumed!  I’ll send more missives from the war on decadence and laziness once I get myself back on the front lines.

For posterity’s sake, I’ll leave this here so that it might trigger some further memory of the dream I had last night.  I dreamed that I was hanging out with this other couple and they were going to introduce me to to this guy but I saw him from across the weird dreamscape area we were in and it was like WELL, HEY, YOU, PERSON MADE JUST FOR ME.  It was pretty much obnoxious, pda, love at first sight glory until I startled awake and like smoke, this nameless person left me with barely memory to commemorate his passing.  It was a warm dream, and that disturbs me a little bit, because warm dreams have this terrible ability to come true.



Three Minutes

What may or may not be true:  you are now exactly where you need to be.

Where I am is on the bed of my half-cleaned bedroom, putting the washing machine through its paces with lots and lots of linens, considering exercise and dinner and the state of the weekend.


I think I need to get a new bed.  This is just something I’ve noticed by spending a lot of time actually, ahem, working on the bed.  But I think there’s some kind of screwed up deal with the spring in the mattress.  Honestly, everything in this whole house seems determined to break down right one after the other.  Nothing can last and survive an appropriate amount of time.

So I’m checking in with my mid-weekend update.  I am doing terrible on the food tracking/exercising bit, but I’m doing pretty well on the humor and cleaning bit.  Tomorrow, I suppose we’ll have to do something of a turnaround on the getting healthy plan and find time to do something creative.  I will say I’m quite pleased with the organization I’ve done in here.  There isn’t a giant cancerous mass of clothing sitting in the middle of the rug and giving me the evil eye, not anymore.   And, once I have done my duty and finished this typing up, I will very happily put the clean sheets back on the bed and get myself in order for the evening.

We watched a couple episodes of Black Books for our Saturday Night Special Tea Party, and I was very amused, both by the show itself and by the fact that it so reminded me of Mr. Rochester, to the point where I had to remind myself that one completely drunk, disorganized, sarcastic and curmudgeonly lunatic bookseller is not another.  Still left me wondering as I gave the squirrelly eye to Mr. Moran if my type is just: hot mess bound between two leather covers.

So, I guess, on a Saturday night when you’ve got the joy of knowing that you have at least one more morning to just luxuriate until as, Anna says, “you wake up natural” it’s hard to fixate on being purposeful and ordered.  It seems as if there’s just an overflowing absence of limit on time and that you’ll get there when you get there and it will all be absolutely fine.  Like you’ve swallowed A Little Book of Calm, as it were.  I think that’s good.  That’s essential.  We can’t all endure the drudgery of marching relentlessly towards an unchanging vision of our future.  We have to have a weekend to process and remember what we even fucking wanted in the first place.

For me, what I want is to keep exercising and being healthy and feeling positive change within and to work on making this house stranger-friendly and to not let myself get so wildly out of control that I feel like I need to explode everything and start at point one.   It’ s been over a year, we’d have to tear down a lot of walls to get back to point one.

Just takes a little imagination.


Liar and a Thief and a Drunkard

I’m listening to a podcast and I’m a bit disinterested.

Ten words down, just four hundred and ninety-nine to go.

My aunt and mother came down to town unexpectedly today and I got to play tour guide and take them around to what amounts to old haunts for my mother.  The store where my father and she met, they both worked there in the late seventies/early eighties.  The store is, like so many other stores, very different now but not so unrecognizable.  Friends still work there and it was good for her to get the chance to see them.  She was in a good mood and I’m glad that she has people to be sociable with and spend time with since for such a long time, work and us as a family was all she ever did.  I don’t think she was unhappy, ever, you just wonder if she missed having friends to let off steam about, hang out with.

You think about what’s at the end of the road you’re walking.

I am seeing today a lot of parallels with myself and just about everyone ever.

We had a nice, long lunch and luckily, I was told very kindly by my boss that it was fine for me to take as long as I wanted and so we just chatted nicely.  It was nice, for lack of a better word (Oh, my goodness, that’s annoying to find myself so unable to come up with a single other adjective than the completely inert: nice. I’m a writer, there’s really no need for there to be a lack of a better word.)  It was leisurely, genial, a meal infused with mansuetude.  My aunt is, I come to realize, more and more a woman of my own blood.  This is a separate aunt from my most delightful and beloved namesake aunt.  She likes to travel with friends and will spend her money on that and run off and do random trips because she just needs to.  It’s amusing to see how this whole idea is very wearying and suspect to my mother no matter who is doing the traveling.

We’ll likely see more of them tomorrow.

Then, I went back to work and sort of spun through the paperwork like a waterwheel.  I wonder how so much goes on and I lose it through my fingers.  It feels like it was just morning or just last night and yet, I made my way through the day.

Indeed, how can I find myself at a loss for words on a Friday which portends a full, turgid weekend.  A weekend of joy where I don’t have to go into work for a few hours for any reason. I can be myself!  Right when I got home I did my WiiActive, watched my show (unfortunately, not your best episode in the history of ever) and now we’ve got this little project just about in-hand so sweet bliss is very near.  I could probably play Mass Effect.  Can you even imagine? I feel like I’m swimming in silk with the loveliness of personal time.