in which i forgot

I totally had something to tell you and when the page finally loaded and all that whiteness just sat there, my mind said, "Nah, ain't got no clue what was twirling around two secs. ago. Whatever, like what's on amazon?"

I'm flightly. I'm tired. I just spent 2 hours knitting with strangers and spent too much $ on really good yarn for my ownself. I deserve it. I'm fabulous, so there.

That makes the second stranger filled happening of the week. I might be beating my own record for number of strangers conversed with for prolonged portions of time without running away during the span of 4 days.



opera is fishy

I went to the Opera on Friday night. It was my first. I was underwhelmed.

I wanted so much to be swept away, carried on the waves of sound from the voices trilling in front of me. I wasn't moved. I was bored even.

It wasn't the performers, it wasn't that it was Opera. It was the story, it was the questioning in my mind as to why they just didn't make a musical out of it.

I've been babysitting for an Opera singer lately and it peaked my interest. I've always meant to go to the Opera and somehow never have. Then, my cousin from NYC was here and she above all others jumped at the chance for Opera. I love cousin poets from NYC who go to mediocre Opera with me.

It wasn't all lost. We met an old man who very reluctantly told us he escaped from Germany before the war saying, "Well, you know we didn't we have a choice. It was the thirties during Hitler's days." He wasn't much for talking about his past, the only thing I wanted to talk about, crack open his plethora of history, this survivor of Nazi Germany, this living relic in the seat next to me, my seat at the Opera. I envision his life in so many ways. The verions are endless and every changing, but I will hold steadfast the image of the frozen fish he said were thawing in his car while he sat and watched Opera.



this day

I hope you belly is full of happiness and pumpkin pie.



driving rain

I used to think my car was the bomb because it was brand new in 2000 with things I had never really considered a car could have. I had been driving a 1987 white, standard Saab that my oldest brother gave to me my second year in college. After graduate school and several months where exhaust fumes began circulating in the car and after 4 wrecks (2 not my fault), a new exhaust system that didn't fix the exfixation problem, I decided to you use my brand new job contract and lay down some signatures for a large amount of money that I didn't yet possess. It sounded like a really good idea to me. Basically, I just wanted a CD player so that I could listen to Jerry Sienfeld's new comedy CD while on road trips.

I've since decided that I will drive this car 'til it dies, or I do, whichever comes first. It's mine now, no large chunks of monthly income going out the window as I drive down the street. Now, wads of cash just billow from the exhaust pipe, happily polluting the trees which I have come to appreciate since I bought the gas guzzingly SUV.

If for some reason I still own this tank when my nephew is 16 I will have to give it to him. I doubt he'll remember though; I made the promise when he was 4. But, then the car was really cool still with the new car smell and shininess. I thought then that even though I couldn't concieve of the new fangled things that cars in 2013 might look like, I thought having a 6 disc CD changer in the armrest would raise my nephew's status among his friends to uber cool. I thought of the hours of music he would roll down the street blasting from those shiny discs spinning beside him. This was before the iPod was really big, it was 2000 still.

So much has changed. I craved an iPod on my drive today through the fog induced rain with no heat. The windshield was fogged and blurred for 3 hours because my tank is beginning to breakdown on me. When I pulled up to my parents' house, the first thing I said was, "I hate the rain. I hate my car." The driver's door is out of line and lets water in plus rushing wind, the powered seats don't work, and no matter what I tell the controls, the vents only blow cold air, even in the off position. It was not a fun 3 hour drive because the only thing that kept me sane were my heated leather seats and a fleece jacket. I guess some of the poshness hasn't totally worn off.



stress dreams

I took a nap today though it wasn't at all on the agenda or the timetable, but I'm trying as best I can to push back the cold that is edging slowly up my throat. Keeping the cold bug at bay through Thanksgiving is my goal. But while napping, I was in that comotose state where you are aware of things around you, but so very asleep that you can't move. I have these naps when I am my most tired and still have many things that should keep me from taking naps. So, in the dreams I had I had not accomplished the evergrowing list of pre-Wednesday travel day items and thus, ruined Thanksgiving. I'm so tired. I'm so stressed, about little things like making scarves, hats, and Christmas CDs for my cousins. I just love giving too much and I don't have the money to mail everything so this is a one shot deal and there is no time to get it all done. And did I mention that I'm getting sick?




I live in quiet community. Sometimes I dream about owning my own house, being able to paint the walls or tear them down if I want to, but everytime I seriously think about it I have nightmares where I end up very confused and close to homeless. So, I stay because I love this place and it seems my psyche likes to just give money away. I like the comfort here and the familiarity, the curiousity I get when I see a window across from me light up. So many blinds are pulled shut and so few people walk about. We're not the friendliest of neighbors and I kinda think that's OK. When I first moved here I thought it was to be like college again where you made friends with everyone and hung out, but this time it'd be the grown-up version with homemade dinners and wine without the RA lurking down the hall. I had a little shindig and tried to get the peeps my age to come round. They did, but that evening was as far as it went. For people my age, this is usually a transition spot, a place for young couples to decide about what house they want to buy, a place for single girls and guys waiting 'til the wedding bells and moving trucks. Now, my neighbors are older or just old. I haven't seen the person below me in some months and the apartment above and across from me must be empty, I think. It's strange how little we know about each other or see each other and yet I know the sleeping, showering, and dishwashing habits of my above neighbors. I still don't know if it's a guy, a girl, or a couple, or what either of their names are. But, just now I heard voices, slurred speech and shuffled feet outside in the leaves and felt like I really was back in college. I turned all the lights out to see what was the unfamiliar noises were and that's when I saw two boys just before one of them walked to the bushes to relieve himself. I can handle the party life and what it does to people, but at 11:30pm on a Thursday, urinating in the common area is beyond reproach.



just tired

Who likes to hear people complain? Unless it's about people you work with and you have some good dirt or you know someone who knows someone who like knows K-Fed and what a not upstanding guy he really is, then the answer is: no one.

That being said, I'm just going to tell you that I'm tired, pooped, exhausted, worn out, spent, drained, and wanting of really long naps (that's plural baby, PLURAL). For some reason things have piled on and gotten a little bit crazy. I've added three extra jobs on top of the fulltime one. Two are tutoring and one is babysitting on a fairly regular basis and people, I'm just tired. I have too much to do and too little time to do it and when I think of having to come up with a blog post I want to shout "I have 8 to 10 people coming to dinner on Friday, a football game on Saturday out of town, 2 hats to knit plus baby booties and a baby hat, worksheets to copy, packages to wrap, a house to clean, and sanity to remaing intack for the next week so I can't be bothered with the posting and all of these things!"

Much love to you though. For reals, yo. Night!



in which i dodge my commitment

I signed up to do this. The month of November was to be a daily dose of blogging and yet I skipped a few days cause, well, you know, sometimes it's just too hard to think up dribble and type it out. It's a cool little project that you should go skipping through and keep checking back to see if I keep up my bargin through the rest of the month, at least.



thanks and giving

My friend is going to Seattle, clear across the country, a full day's plane ride. I'm sad about it, but I don't get to lose her until June or July so the true crying and tear jerking is on hold until then. She's staying to finish out the school year while her husband goes clear across the country, a full day's plane ride.

They'll miss Thanksgiving together and it being my most favoritist of holidays, I had to do something. So, I'm hosting Thanksgiving, a little early, in my house for like 12 people. I'm a little Ahhh! about it, but she needs this; he needs this. We need to say goodbye to him, support her, and just be thankful we happened into each other's lives.

I can't imagine a love for me, someone that I just can't believe I get to spend the rest of my life with, but I do feel this for my friends. How lucky I am to have stumbled so ungracefully at the foot of their friendships. For that I give them thanks.



stranger than fiction

He once told me that he looked on amazon.com for the title of the book he wanted to write and was satisfied that this epitome of literature would not mislead him. The title he was thinking of was something like "Drifting Apart." But, I don't believe he ever sat down to write a thing though I know he writes the book everyday, everytime he opens his mouth to speak, possibly to breathe. I want to tell him now that a better resource would be the library of congress because out of print books won't show up on amazon.com. But, I can't tell him because we've, well, you know.



free write-candlelight

Is it one word or two? Candlelight. Candle light. I don't know. I don't really care. I'm begun burning candles as the weather ebbs toward cold and I refuse to turn the heat on. It does seem a little silly, to be burning candles rather than turning the heat on. But then I think of the pioneers and not only did they not have heat to turn on, but they had to read by the candlelight as well! I couldn't do that. A candle really gives almost no light at all. And therefore, it would follow, probably no heat at all. But, I like it. I like the idea of the rugedness about it. The willing of the soul in this modern age to sit in front of a computer screen and type by candlelight. It feels so Jane Austeny, so utterly romantic as well, in the non-love sense. I've begun puttting candles on the windowsills in my reading room and lighting them (along with a small book light) when and only when I am reading at night. It makes the adventure of the book, the destination I'm going to, so much more etheral. And that, afterall, is what reading is suppose to make you feel, a little bit fancy free. I might just need some candles to help me on my way. I'm sure, however, that passersby think it odd that three to four small candles are flickering in a windowsill of a room that does not seem to be inhabitated, as my reclining/ reading position is below said windowsills. What must they think of the lone candles in the windows? Do they get scare their apartments will catch fire when the unattended flames reek havoc in my apartment? It won't happen. I've got too many books up in this joint that I don't want burning. I'm not into the Naziness of all that. I just like my candles with a little side of reading.



why amazon.com is my new/old boyfriend

Amazon.com is always there for me no matter what time of day or wherever I am, knows what a like, keeps track of the things I've already got, listens when I want to spout about the horribleness of something or someone, advises me on mistakes I'm about to make, surprises me at my door with things I love, takes my change at coinstar counters and lets me get "free" stuff with it, recommends what might cheer me up when I'm in a mood, gives me discounts and coupons out of the blue and free super saver shipping. I've been slightly in love with amazon.com for a long time, but I'm thinking of taking this to the next level. I'm thinking of letting amazon.com cook me dinner.



my election story

In seventh grade homeroom we were told by the calm and docile shop teacher (yep, shop teacher) that we need to elect a homeroom representative. I now have no idea what the job of this person was, but I remember the election very clearly because I ran.

My opponent was a blond haired girl named Susan whom I had known for years and years. She was smart, quiet and nice. She was not of the "in" crowd (read: she did not hang with my peeps), but she was the closest to a normal person in our homeroom so she was the one I sat beside and pretended to have a friendship with for that 15-20 minute period. We made no speeches or cries for votes. We simply raised out hands to volunteer to run and then a vote was cast. I assumed, this being my very first election, that one must never vote for oneself in a public vote because that would seem too selfish, too needy, too bigheaded. And so, in my selflessness, I raised my hand to vote for Susan and by doing this lost the election quite quickly. Susan, however, voted for herself. She wasn't as nice as I thought she was.

Whether you voted for your opponent or yourself, a democrat or a republican, I hope you voted today. If you didn't you should feel like Susan should feel, selfish and ashamed.



in which i insight my need for you to understand

I've heard it called Rocktober and I kinda like that one And hearing that version makes the elementary ryhmer in my go all giddy and melodious. I would, however, like to settle definitively on Nocktober. That's my name for this past month that is gone and already old by six days.

"N" for the nothing that happened, for the none of books that I read, for the numb I didn't feel and yet. October was a passive month, one in which weeks seemed to fly by and yet. I would not say it was funk this time, to the contrary and yet. There are days and days I didn't write, days and days I didn't read. I filled my time and was not languishing, was not tormented and yet I remember October as a blur of days that just went by. "N" for the next month coming round that would offer breath and life to the days that just went by.

I've opened books again and am thinking about if not writing again. Something in the written word opens me up and lets me feel my own pulse like when you've gone on a run and when you are done with the work, the heaving of the body through time and space, you can't believe you could feel that good from such a simple mechanical motion. Words are becoming a station in my brain that must be satiated daily like breathing, like eating, like...



i want to celebrate the turkey

I'm not big on authority. I'm a rule follower, but I just don't like the idea of someone telling me what to do. Hence, the need and abiding love I have for living alone, free to wander or nap as I please AND leave as many dishes in the sink as I like. There are, however, a few rules I am unbearably and increasingly more obnoxious and vocal about and those rules come into effect in October, November and December.

I've never been a big Halloween buff, but this year I started to like the idea of all the tacky decorations and the creativity in costuming. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday by stretches and leaps and bounds and is, in my opinion, the best day of the year because I get to be around the people I love the best and do the thing I love the best, eat. Christmas, however, is my favorite holiday season because I believe that Christmas is a feeling and spirit and far more than just one day and therefore it does not compete with Thanksgiving. My like/love for these festivities are very strickly limited to the month in which they happen to occur.

I like Halloween in October, not August or September. I like Thanksgiving in November, not slightly hidden behind Halloween and Christmas. And I like Christmas the day after Thanksgiving and for all of December and not the day after Halloween. What I'm saying is, "I'M SICK OF THE COMMERCIALISM OF HOLIDAYS THAT ARE MEANT TO BE ABOUT FAMILY AND GIVING AND I JUST WANT TO CELEBRATE THE TURKEY RIGHT NOW, NOT THE BABY JESUS!!!!!!!"




Happiness came knocking on my door today, this morning to be exact. For no reason, so unexpectedly, it showed up. I love happiness. I welcome it with open arms. Happy Fall. Happy Happiness.



mum’s the word

How many times do I need to explain how much I love fall? Everyday I drive around and think that this, this is the day where fall is at its peak and then, wala, another day happens and it seems to get even better. The trees are going bezerk and I gawked at some bush today that I swear burst forth just today with bright burgundy flowers. I’ve decided that I love all bushes and flowers and trees that really come to life in the fall, when everything else is starting to die away, to retreat into its resting stages. Like mums. How cute are they? With their afro like shapes and their perfectly Autumn colors. Its just that I can’t tell anyone how much I love fall just now, nope can’t speak a word of it because I’ve lost my voice and I’d make a recording for you, but it hurts too much and I’ve talked (read: squeaked) more today than I really should have. So, for me, for right now, mum’s the word.

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