yes, i would like some cheese with my whine.

i'm kinda...crankily this morning, if that's a word. i've got a half-hearted cough--just a cough, no stuffy nose or any of that shit. didn't sleep that well, and woke to henry playing in a plastic bag and then getting stuck in said bag. then when i got downstairs i see that he's been playing with one of his favorite toys, poo, all over the living room floor--which will now require the steam cleaner. i enjoy a good cuddle, but henry came and sat on my chest so now i've got itchy cat-dander eyes. i really, really would like to visit the newest addition to the owen household, but since i've got no idea of whether or not the cough is developing into something or if it's just a cough without basis, i don't want to do that, either.

last night i foraged at my favorite thrift store, unique, and came home with books and a cd of piano music. it's quite mellowing so i've been listening to it for the last bit here, hoping that it will soothe whatever demons are bothering my head today.

hearing piano music reminds me of going to DL a while ago, and sitting in the foyer of a beautiful log cabin hotel, listening to my friend amanda play the grand piano, and beautifully so. that thought alone is enough to remove some of the sharp edges of my mood.

total eclipse of the...moon

tonight there's a lunar eclipse, so every half hour or so dan and i run outside to see where it's at, grin, and run back in again. due to the sporadic nature of this, and the fact that my other blogging option is my uncle paul's death and funeral tomorrow, i'm going to go with something fun: a meme...that i stole from goldilocks... (;

***

1. What is in the back seat of your car right now?
about 15 canvas bags, stuffed everywhere, a jug of antifreeze, a pair of mittens, and possibly flip flops from last summer

2. When was the last time you threw up?
that would be january, when the dr told me to use this nasal aspirator in my nose when i had a sinus infection. she didn't mention that water would come through my nose and out through my mouth. DISGUSTING!

3. What's your favorite curse word?
Fuck, and variations thereof, my favorite being: pumpkinfucker.

4. Name 3 people who made you smile today.
tish, dan, sara (to clarify: goldilocks sara)

5. What were you doing at 8 am this morning?
leaping into the shower after toiling away on my treadmill (and by toiling i mean watching cnn while i walked...)

6. What were you doing 30 minutes ago?
un-bundling from a run outside to view said celestial event

7. What will you be doing 3 hours from now?
hopefully sleeping!

8. Have you ever been to a strip club?
no, although i suspect that i will eventually. you only live once, really.

9. What is the last thing you said aloud?
something about how i need glasses

10. What is the best ice cream flavor?
bailey's irish cream

11. What was the last thing you had to drink?
milk, duh. (;

12. What are you wearing right now?
white t-shirt, blue sweatshirt, red track pants, fuzzy pink slippers

13. What was the last thing you ate?
a cinnamon heart, leftover from valentine's day.

14. Have you bought any new clothing items this week?
this week, no. last week? yes.

15. When was the last time you ran?
probably tonight when we were walking outside

16. What's the last sporting event you watched?
hockey game, last night. unfortunately the wild did not show up to win the game. :(

17. To what extent do you recycle?
i recycle all the time. i'm sometimes one of "those people" who picks recyclables out of the trash to recycle them. and i'm positive that 3/4 of the stuff i recycle is probably not even recyclable. (;

18. Who is the last person you emailed?
someone at work, about some work related item.

19. Ever go camping?
oh yeah. i like camping, but i despise the bugs and especially the showers at campgrounds. *shudders*

20. Do you have a tan?
no, because there is no such thing as a healthy tan. that and i don't tan--i burn and then i freckle.

21. Do you formally set the table each night?
hahahaha...the only thing i set every day is the food dishes of my small but demanding cats.

22. Name a favorite TV series from a) your childhood b) your teen years and c) your adult life. Why did you enjoy them?
a) Scooby-Doo, and as to the why, who the hell knows. although i despised scrappy. ugh.
b) saved by the bell? no idea, really...
c) top chef and csi: las vegas. they're both about chopping things and whatnot. (;

23. If you aren't married yet, describe your dream wedding. If you are already married, and you could go back and change something about your wedding, would you?
family and friends only, no extended relatives, a state park, and breakfast. shortest service ever: do you? yes. do you? yes. okay, done. (;

24. Do you drink your soda from a straw?
no, unless i'm forced to.

25. What did your last IM say?
i was at work so it said something about taxes.

26. Are you someone's best friend?
yup

27. What are you doing tomorrow?
funeral, sadly.

28. Where is your mom right now?
probably settling into the hotel for the evening, after the wake.

29. Look to your left, what do you see?
the entertainment center, our crap-laden coffee table, my rocking chair...

30. What color is your watch?
it's called a cell phone...and it's silver.

31. What do you think of when you think of Australia?
"i come from a land down under...where women blow and men chunder..."

32. Would you consider plastic surgery?
only if it was pain-free.

33. What is your birthstone?
amethyst--prettiest stone, imho...

34. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru?
in, when and if there...

35. How many kids do you want?
i have 2 cats, which are the equivalent of two-year-olds with fangs.

36. Do you have a dog?
no, and after puppy-sitting my canine niece, it ain't happening anytime soon. dogs are so...needy.

37. Last person you talked to on the phone?
dan

38. Have you met anyone famous?
define "met"--we nearly trampled garrison keillor but that's different i'm guessing...

39. Any plans today?
keep tabs on the moon and go to sleep.

40. How many states have you lived in?
three--new york, wisconsin, minnesota

41. Ever go to college?
indeed i did...bills and responsibilities were a few years off, and we could stay up until the wee hours doing nothing. it was fabulous.

42. Where are you right now?
in the living room, typing and watching my cat sleep

43. Biggest annoyance in your life right now?
work

44. Last song listened to?
rob zombie, i think, in the car

45. What do you wish you could bake/cook?
i think perhaps i just wish i could do so on a more regular basis...

46. Are you allergic to anything?
sometimes cats, all the time pennicilin and sulfa, and sadly, most beers and wines...*sniff* but not guinness!!! YAY!

47. Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time?
right now my red and black slip ons. they're so retro. LOL

48. Are you jealous of anyone?
people who can hear, skinny people...

49. Which do you prefer: bath or shower?
shower. my grandma always says that taking a bath is marinating in your own dirt, and i agree.

50. Is anyone jealous of you?
not that i know of!

51. What time is it?
934 pm

52. Do any of your friends have children?
yup

53. Do you eat healthy?
i try...

54. What do you usually do during the day?
um, work, which requires me to do math. which sucks.

55. Do you hate anyone right now?
i have no idea...i'm annoyed with people...but that's run of the mill.

56. Do you use the word 'hello' daily?
oh yeah...

57. Name something you admire and something you dislike about your country of origin (or country of residence - your choice).
a) admire: the freedoms i have, which i too often take for granted
b) dislike: the hypocracy of living in an immigrant nation and having the melting pot try to "keep out" immigrants.

58. How old will you be turning on your next birthday?
32, but really, 28...again.

59. Have you ever been to Six Flags?
no

60. How did you get one of your scars?
you wanna hear a good one? i've got a scar on my nose, and here's how i did it. this one year i went home for easter, while at college. i had your proto-typical boil on my nose from eating crap--pop tarts, mello-yello, assorted greasy grub--and was whining to mom about it. "put a hot washcloth on it, and it'll go away," she advised. so far too late that night, after kibbutzing with my sisters, i run the hot water and put it on my nose. feels hot but the boil eventually goes away. in the morning i wake up and have a GIGANTIC blister on my nose. it's beyond gross, i tell you.

i go to mass and have to sit behind my high school english teacher, and then return to college, with a 2nd-degree burn healing nicely on my nose. i go into student health to make sure it's coming along and the doctor asks, "how did you get this?" and then stares at me like i'm covering for a crack-pipe accident when i tell her the truth.

turns out that mom and dad's water heater was on the fritz and was pumping out water that, when run hot, was well over the safe point. my bad.

and that's why i've got a red splotch on my nose. fabulous, eh? (;

so are the days of our lives...

i'm feeling terribly procrastinational this morning, if that's actually a word. my taxes are sitting here on my desk, just waiting to be electronically filed, and i've got about ten loads of laundry upstairs, also in a hold pattern.

the problem i'm having is simply the lack of energy that spikes so often on saturday morning. i feel like i need to slouch away the am hours simply in revenge of the week of mornings in which i'm forced to awake, wash and garb myself, and hurry out the door to be productive.

being productive on the weekends, however much it would be for me alone, is just out of the question.

and thus, at 1059 am, i'm sitting here in my shorts and giant shirt, barefoot and toes cold, too freaking lazy to roll upstairs and shower, or even go in search of slippers.

it happens every weekend. it's not like weather, either--you hear the weather report and think, perhaps i ought to wear boots, since we're getting two feet of snow. there is no preparing for this rout of inability. i can't promise myself coffee--which tastes ever so good and is also a fantastic version of wake-kim-up--because my blood pressure goes through the roof.

perhaps it's that i look forward to little during the weekends--during the day, that is. during the week i have the impetuous to leave the house, immerse myself in the ugly, and then return home to my safe and secure cocoon, filled with two purring cats and my very own adoring spousal equivalent.

on weekends, i wake and do not need to leave.

does that mean i take less pleasure in being home on the weekends? i don't think so. i just like the opportunity to retreat so very much--hide in my own den, whatever have you--that it takes away the rush of the week, the momentum that keeps me going long enough to get the kitchen cleaned up and the litter boxes emptied.

today as i sit here i am lost in the realm of possibilities. i could visit friends--i could clean--i could read--i could write--and it all becomes so overwhelmingly within reach that i close down and sit here in my filth, playing fetch with my cat and listening to the furnace turn on and off in a futile effort to keep the house warm.

usually by one o'clock i'm up and running. i'm done with being a laz-about and want to move, stretch limbs, accomplish something or other. it's now 1105, and my feet are one degree chillier, and i'm staring half-heartedly at the screen while my fingers tap out discontent on the keyboard, a song unto themselves.

all the days in my life are numbered--this is just another one of those days, and just as watch the evening forecast and see that tomorrow calls for a 60% chance of snow, i can forecast my own day to day feelings. monday through friday there's a good chance that i'll be motivated enough to show up at work, every day, and exceedingly motivated to return home each night. but on saturday and sunday, the two days in which i've no one to please but myself, the batteries run out and i pretend that i am plugged into home, recharging for the coming week.

***

as a side note: in january i was sick for a good week, actually missed 4 days of work, and had a sinus infection. after that i threw out my back. per the dr i get to have physical therapy, starting whenever it is that i get around to finding out which pt actually is covered under my insurance...yet another thing to do, on another day.

my very own civic duty

i've been called to jury duty a total of four times. twice in duluth--once i sat a jury, once i didn't. another time when my parents moved to st cloud. and now again, for federal jury duty.

as luck would have it, i finally set up my dr's appt (which i loathe doing) for january 22, and guess when my first day is? you got it.

part of me is actually glad for this, since it's year end and right now i despise my job with the hate of a thousand-strong mob. that being said, it's going to be a bitch to balance what's on my plate at work with leaving work randomly and traveling downtown to sit and wait and see if i get placed on a jury.

i wish, very very very much, that i could choose a replacement. dan would love to sit on a jury and he's never even been called.

then again, my mother had never been called either, and she's twice my age. she finally was called last year but i don't think she actually got to sit on a jury.

you just never know.

i guess in america we don't have to many duties to state or country. we don't have mandatory military service, or anything like that. we don't have to donate all of our paycheck to the government in return for health care and whatnot. but we do have quite the fine sense of justice, in some manner or fashion, since that is what is mandatory in the good ol' us of a.

and even jury duty can be gotten out of, with a plausible excuse.

i'm hoping for a good long courtroom drama, like you'd see on law and order. but i'm guessing that if i'm even selected it will be a day in and a day out, and then i'll be back to the grind.

so i guess that a small vacation from the normal isn't that bad, really, despite any annoyances it might bring. i need to see it as an adventure and perhaps that will change my viewpoint--instead of seeing jury duty as on the same par as cleaning the kitchen, i need to see it as an escape from the every day.

the road to hell

last weekend we went to chicago--i say we, meaning me, my sisters, and our friend shelly. it should have been a fabulous weekend filled with cocktails, sightseeing and laughter, but it turned into an emotional rollercoaster.

i remember getting on the plane and watching the sky move past as we took off, and thinking of the brush of bristles on dan's face as he kissed me good bye that night. if i knew what was going to happen i suppose i'd have turned around and gone back home, but then again, that's the beauty of life--it's all a surprise.

friday night we spent flying, riding the train downtown, finding the hotel, and then finding a cocktail. saturday was fine--roaming into little italy, where we noshed on irish fare and coffee, and then downtown again, where we located a starbucks for additional caffeine.

it was there that the whole weekend came into brilliant and ugly focus. i remember sitting down and seeing beth's face, the muted crimson blush of anger. i could feel the tide of emotion washing off of her, and i knew that the weekend was a loss, not even twelve hours in.

the accusation was that we--being my middle sister and i--had been inconsiderate when we planned this trip, and the fact that we surprised her was unforgivable. we didn't understand where she was coming from--i think the term "you don't get it" was uttered about five hundred times--and then she stomped off down the street. shelly followed, and sara and i were left to wander about by ourselves.

the weekend was supposed to have been a surprise--beth just had sent off her best friend to prague, and her puppies had been adopted out. shelly'd come up with the idea of surprising her with a trip to chicago for a weekend, just to get away, and sara and i jumped on the bandwagon.

and then, in the blink of an eye, shelly was the only one who loved her and sara and i were depriving her of the best part of her day--coming home and seeing her dog's tail, waving hello.

there was the eventual knock down drag out in a bar, until sara stepped in and said she was done discussing this, we were in chicago and we might as well enjoy ourselves. so we all put on our happy faces and had a good-ish time, but the whole weekend was flawed.

i don't understand why it had to happen like that--i know that people are under a great deal of stress, and i know that there's financial strain. between sara and shelly and i, we paid for the whole weekend for her, and the only reply we got was that we were treating her like a charity case.

it hurts--hurts, hurts, hurts. at one point sara and i sat in the upstairs of a brewery, in the two seats near the bathrooms, and tried not to cry. i remember us agreeing that we were enjoying each other's company, but that if we could go home that night, we would, since we'd so obviously fucked up.

i didn't expect that beth would be gushingly grateful, or that the weekend would be utterly fantastic, but the fact that my own sister could be that ungracious, and that angry, over what had begun as a gift--that incensed me.

it still ticks me off, today.

this weekend was admittedly not a good time for me to travel, either. it's the middle of our busiest season at work, and i've been dragging the bottom of the barrel to keep up. i had to work my ass off to get done with work in time on friday to actually make it to the airport, and i'm still catching up on lost sleep. i haven't spent much time at home in the last few weeks, and when i am at home, i'm sleeping.

so, while sara and i were forced into walking in beth's shoes, she neatly avoided walking in ours.

the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

our intent was good, pure and simple. beth found out about the surprise the week before--plenty of time in which to speak up and say "no, i'm sorry, i can't go." i would have been fine with that. flying to chicago to be told i was inconsiderate by my beloved sister was not preferable to being told, honestly, that she did not want to go on the trip in the first place.

i don't want my family to end up being one of those families who are related but do not speak to one another. it's not something about which i dream--in fact i have nightmares about it. but in the end, it's not up to me, not entirely. i can only soothe so many irate people, and i suppose in the end, i do expect that my family, of all the people with whom i have contact, will be a place of harmony and honesty, and not a backstabbing mess of hurt.

an expectation that i need to chuck out the window, another bit littering that god-damned road.

today i was gonna sleep until 3.

but my cats handily helped me escape so blissful a fate by arriving promptly at 601 am. henry had his new kitty toy, a shiny fish with a tiny, tiny rattle and string, and shiva had her rumbling purr. both of which required me to fulfill their early morning agendas.

shiva's included half a can of wet cat food. blech.

henry's included playing fetch with his new fishy, but in true cat fashion, returning the fishy to about five feet away from me, and then yowling pitifully when said toy was not hurled again for him to race after immediately.

*sigh*

my life isn't ruled by my cats, mind you. i got up and played and fed and then went back to bed for an hour, during which i had a bizarre dream about being ferried around new york by my cousin therese, only the version of therese was from years ago, pre hubby and kids and job, etc. my mom and dad and i were packed into her car and she was navigating these side streets i'd never seen in new york -- broad avenues, with bright, cream colored pavement and lots of wide staircases that led to the base of a skyscraper, where there was a large wooden door that lead to therese's apartment--clean and modern, lots of light, and overlooking what my mind said was central park.

i woke up because my left hand was mashed under my face, and tingling painfully as blood rushed back into it.

then i was wide awake, and it wasn't even 9 am yet.

lucky for me, catland beckoned again, this time in the form of "cleanup in aisle five," where henry had kindly cleaned his cute little ass on our living room carpeting, and shiva had graciously tossed her cookies (wondertwin powers unite: form of--HAIRBALL!). so out with the steam cleaner and away with stain.

there are days when i wish my life was more glamorous than this. days when i dream of flitting about in magically pain-free high heels, with perfect, smudge free mascara lashes batting confidently and a handbag that is in fashsion. i don't even have kids, or a good excuse, for why i don't have that fabulous dream--i just don't feel like keeping up with the world enough to do so. it seems a waste of perfectly good time.

the other glamorous dream is not really glamorous at all. it involves a house with a backyard, and time to bake muffins and read whatever i like all day long. this dream is much more dear to me, i believe, than that of socialite with runway-ready figure, mostly because it seems a tad more accessible.

and then i wake up to the jingle of cat-toy and am reminded that i have a house and cats and time today to fulfill part of the more-accessible dream. well, portions of the dream. which for now, will need to be enough. in lieu of sleeping, at least, until three.

pass or fail

the other day while driving to work i had an epiphany. it wasn't one of those "world peace" or "end hunger" epiphanies--not anything so large as that. it was about the way in which i view my life, and the terms i find to describe it in my own little epic movie that's recording constantly in my head.

anyway i was sitting in traffic, which was moving slowly for reasons unknown to man--i like to think that it's because the sun rising over the minnesota river valley is so stunning that people have to pause and appreciate it, but in truth i'm sure it was because of a car that was stopped and empty on the opposite side of the highway. sometimes i'm glad that everyone goes slowly over the bridge because it allows me the time to stop and see the pretty, as well as the eagles and herons that float over the bridge.

so i'm sitting there listening to the defrosters pump hot air into the car and the guys on the radio share stories about their worst blunt-object-to-nutsack tales when it comes to me that i've done a lot of writing but haven't got a thing published.

i've done a lot of writing, since it's the one thing that i enjoy as an outlet for all the invisible stuff bumping around in my mind. poetry, stories, novel-length stuff. one weekend i finished the ump-teenth romance novel and thought, i could write one of these.

so i sat down and wrote 100 single-spaced pages. i'm reasonably sure that it could be published. but it's not up to my standards. what standards those are, i can't quite explain, because i really don't know that i have standards until i read something that runs into my Standard Wall.

i thought about how when i was a kid my dad would tempt me with ten bucks if i wrote a story and he could read it. i never wrote anything that i thought dad would like, and thus, there has never been the ten dollar payment.

usually when i think about my writing i think of all my attempts as failures. i've written the same opening to the same story about fifty times, give or take, but none of them develops further than a certain point at which i lose interest and feel that a re-write is in order.

generally, when i do this, i save what i've written, because you just never know when something might lead your sentences forward, and the rest of the story could tumble out onto my computer monitor.

the night before my epiphany, i'd opened the folder in which all my random writings are saved and remember the thought that crossed my mind: look at all the failure.

sitting on the bridge, however, i decided that perhaps i needed to change the way in which i viewed that folder of what i usually term "junk."

instead of failure, i needed to see practice.

julia child, i'm fairly sure, had some misfires in the kitchen and some inedible objects before she started to get the hang of things. da vinci had artwork that didn't actually work, and i'm sure that robert jarvik, inventor of the artificial heart, didn't dream it up in one sitting and have everything function.

trial and error--that is the way you learn. for such a long time now i've thought of my written word as error, and not only error, but failure. i feel that i have failed to be published, which must disappoint my dad, my friends, the rest of my family. their dreams of me as a published author--based on all the stuff i scribbled as a child--have not come to fruition.

and that is what leads me to consider my works as failed, instead of practice runs.

in the car that morning, cursing other drivers and watching the clock tick along while i sat there cursing, it occurred to me that if i changed my viewpoint, i could change the way i felt.

the same thing is true of so many things in life. i see things as insurmountable, but i do not take the steps necessary to change them, and why? because i leap to the conclusion that i will fail, instead of seeing it as a chance to better or even just a chance to practice.

i have to play it as it lays, as joan didion writes.

life is pain, life is joy, life is practice. if i try to meld it around my own thoughts of whether i have passed or failed, nothing will look correct, and everything will be skewed.

the hermit's reluctance

the hermit watched "ratatouille" last night, quite amusing. i say "the hermit" because that's somewhat how i've felt again lately. tonight i am supposed to be at a surprise birthday party for an ex-coworker but i feel like sticking my head in the proverbial sand again.

it comes and goes, you know, the healthy level of sociability. perhaps it's part and parcel of my mental cocktail--all that crap that's written on my diagnosis sheets. more often than not i think that it's due to my job, and that i really ought to start looking for a different job, but then apathy sets in and i think about all the effort and whatnot, and i conclude that nothing's going to change.

there's a line in an anna nalick song: can't jump the tracks/we're like cars on a cable/and life's like an hourglass/glued to the table.

i think that about sums it up.

***

yesterday we had an 8 pm visit from our internet provider's service guy. nice fellow, i think his name was luke. anyway luke replaced our modem, which has been crapping out now and then for ages. while he was standing here he noticed that we had some world of warcrack paraphenalia sitting about, and noted that he's also a player. he's got a level 70 warlock.

strangely enough, so does dan. later i commented that it was a small world, and how odd that the repairman played.

"nine million people play, hon," he reminded me. "i guess i'm not that surprised."

everywhere, i am reminded, is a crowd. everywhere there are people, waiting in groups or by themselves, wherever i go. there is not any place on this planet where you are entirely alone. when you're born, usually you're in a hospital, and certainly people do not spawn spontaneously--there is another person bringing you into the world.

even in death, even buried, you are not alone--i think of graveyards filled with tooth-shaped stones, granite angels, lettering tapped out carefully.

which is probably a good thing, really. humans are social animals; we're genetically constructed to face each other and communicate. it just happens once in a while that the inner hermit comes out, at least in some of us, and we feel the absurd need to hide.

i suppose it must be attached to the fight or flight switch in our brains. either we wish to face our adversary--friends, shopping, the hungry face of my cat--or we want to run away, and avoid whatever those things are.

why would i feel the need to avoid? why is it that there are some days i long for hermitage, a cave in the mountains, a living tomb?

they say that the fear of snakes or spiders is generally not even learned--it's a basic genetic response, tempered with experience. i like snakes; it's bees and hornets that i cannot abide.

but friends--why would i avoid friends? i suppose it is the fear i have of becoming attached, only to lose that friend. and that cannot be boiled down to genetics; that is a purely emotional response, based on experience. i suppose it's all linked together, and if i pick it apart, i can see it for what it is: excuses.

***

often i react and simply go with that reaction, instead of pausing to question it. i can see where things stem from--my aversion to making new friends, or being in their company or the company of old friends. that whole melange springs from having friends live miles and miles away, as much as it does the whole not-sure-i-can-trust-friends thing that i am trying so hard to face and learn to live with.

in addition, i feel un-interesting, i feel blank, i feel meaningless. i'm not really working towards anything, and i'm certainly not moving in any direction.

and why? because taking that first step is so terrifying to me that i cannot move. i'm the fawn, frozen and scentless in the grass as the wolf stalks. and other days i feel like the wolf, stalking that self-same fawn.

it comes and goes, truly. i long for connection, but fear the price--the emotional price--that might be exacted. it's safe here, in my little realm of blankets and purring cats and books.

i've allowed myself to moulder away, and why? for what reason? because i am afraid of the possibly consequences? what if the consequences are only pleasant, and not something to fear? what then? i could die trying--trying anything, even just making contact with others--or die languishing, too scared to move.

more than one of my coworkers laugh when they hear my response to their panicked situation, but i'd do well to take my own advice. when they begin to shy away or show fear, my first response is always the same: you're six feet above ground. count yourself lucky, and keep trying.

snow and other dreams

today it's finally snowing, and it's so lovely that unless i position myself in front of a window, i'll probably have whiplash by 2 pm--the patio doors are to my right and i keep looking over to ensure that yes, it is still snowing.

henry is watching things for me while i type; he's positioned in front of the doors, about a foot back, watching the snow fall, and people bundled in layers fumble through the wind to their cars.

i think this fall i have been sick more than i have any other year. it's been awful--random fevers, a cold that doesn't ever just get nasty but dabbles along in annoyance, and yesterday, the stomach flu, courtesy my beloved spousal equivalent. this last one happened so rapidly that i thought he had food poisoning, but then six hours later i was sick, too.

today i feel fine, but have that tender-tummy feeling that'll take a bit to go away.

anyway i was bummed about being sick for two reasons. the first was that i was supposed to do training on friday at work, and was actually very excited to do so. the second was that dan had made reservations tonight at a nice place, at which we would get to dress up a bit and go eat fancy food.

this morning we discussed it before he went to work and made the decision to cancel. i doubt either of us would have enjoyed the meal simply because in my mind at least, i'd be overly concerned about eating a ton of rich food when for the last 24 hours i've been subsisting on apple cider and peanut butter toast.

so the dressy night out will be postponed. but i suppose in the end, that just will allow me to spend more time enjoying the weather.

when i say that, i mean it honestly. i love living in minnesota, for the simple fact that it snows. in the summer, when all ten thousand lakes have moved from lake form to humidity, and you sweat just considering the movement of your eye lids, i could live elsewhere. but in the winter i'd live no where else.

(except perhaps new england, which seems to have gotten a ton of snow in the last few years...)

***

the sunday morning before thanksgiving i came downstairs to see that i'd missed a call from my dad, so i called back. mom answered; they were out having breakfast and had run into someone that looked familiar.

mom: hello dear.
me: hey mom, i saw dad called, what's up?
mom: well...we're at the ihop here in town and we ran into someone you used to live with.
me: what?
mom: someone you used to live with, in bemidji.
me: like a roommate?
mom: yes, that minister's daughter. i can't remember her name so we had to call.
me (hesitating): oh, you mean serena?
mom: yes! that's it!
me: yeah, we don't talk anymore.
mom: that's what i thought.
me: did she talk to you?
mom: no, she looked at us and i could see that she knew us, but she didn't say anything. so i went up to her.
me: (dead silence) what did she say?
mom: she's here visiting her brother and sister-in-law. they're having a baby. so you don't talk to her anymore?
me: well, honestly, she decided not to talk to us anymore.
mom: oh, well, i just couldn't remember her name. she's put on some weight, though...

(which is mom for: she's fat. but mom's too minnesotan and polite to just blurt that out.)

it was kind of surreal. i guess after that year happened and since then, i've tried to excise her from my life--which really didn't work at all. then i tried another tactic--accepting that she was in my life, and that now she is not in my life any more. which worked much better. since i've started thinking in that manner, i'm not such a nervous nelly when someone brings up her name. but that morning was still a reminder for me that i've got a ways to go.

dan and i discussed it later; he was surprised that mom would say anything but i wasn't. she wouldn't be my mother if she hadn't.

***

thanksgiving, by the by, was nice. it's always good to see dan's parents, and they're such a hoot to be around. they remind me so much of my mom's extended family that i always think that his uncle louie could be another member of her family.

which would be gross, considering my relationship with dan, but i think it just comes from living in northern mn for your whole life and never leaving. i'm sure that if my mom's entire family was french i'd feel the same way if i went to france, or something along those lines.

anyway it was good to see his family and their myriad animals, and it was just as good to get home, scrape and wash the smoke-smell from ourselves and our clothing, and see our own two fuzzy beasts, who chastised us with their big kitty eyes for having abandoned them for days at a time.

***

which brings me back to today, saturday. usually a day during which i'd have cleaned the whole house by now--just to get it done and out of the way. however i cleaned the kitchen, rested, rearranged the foyer, rested, blogged...and now it is time to get up again, and perhaps take a chance at rescuing my carpeting from cat hair.

which in itself is a pipe dream. (;

lost and found

i haven't lost much lately except a few brain cells, and that's just due to age in general. what i have lost is my sense of purpose, and that's not due to much at all.

usually i look forward to winter with a longing not unlike the feeling of thirst--the yearning for snow, as if my dehydrated body cannot live one more moment without a few shimmering flakes. but this year...i'm impartial.

yeah, i was overjoyed tuesday when i saw those bits of rain-spun silver, but today while i shopped for gloves i realized that i was actually interested in decorating for christmas.

which is something that i haven't done for years. yes, actual years.

i've never been much into holiday decorations because i own cats, and cats enjoy creating a general ruckus with any and all objects that are shiny and possibly breakable.

yes, this includes christmas trees, which are apparently set up simply for concealment and climbing purposes.

anyway while i was wandering about the store, bemoaning my state of mental disarray, i had an urge to stroll through the red and green section of the store to peruse this year's version of fashionable tree-wear and whatnot. there was a whole lot of black velveteen--in the form of oddly shaped deer forms that could adorn a mantle, i'm sure, and ornaments resembling jennifer lopez' earrings and/or the discards of a rummage sale at boy george's home.

nothing against said celebrities but honestly...who decided that christmas needed to be so terribly overdone?

that is when i realized that my malaise comes not from the lack of indefinables--no, not in the least. it's the fact that i have far too much.

i've got a computer with endless possibilites stored in neat rows of sparkling chips. books lined up wall to wall, cats that are happy to sit on my lap and purr or play with string. i've got baking that i could do, people to visit, something that is begging to be written from the depths of my brain. crosswords to finish, a kitchen to sweep, checks to deposit in the bank. a car to find, clothing to launder, and a partridge in a pear tree.

well, not the partridge.

there's a line in kahlil gibran's "the prophet" that i'm going to mangle, something to the effect that you could not know one thing without knowing the other--that what makes you sorrowful is what once gave you joy. and i'm sure vice versa.

there's plenty in life for me to be thankful for--i have a job, i have a fridge full of food, i have a loving man willing to give me all the hugs i crave. and yet i feel a certain sense of emptiness, in that i am probably not doing a job that i enjoy, and i do spend a great deal of time at said occupation.

as my dear cari would say, so what am i going to do about it?

i suppose i could start by making a list, since lists are the only way that i can get things completed. otherwise i hare off far too much and end up with my nose between the pages of my latest novel-shaped acquisition. perhaps put out my feelers again and see what is available in the land of milk, honey and capitalism, and see if perhaps i can find not what i have lost, but simply that which i have yet to find.

time

stephen hawking, i've got your answer for you regarding wormholes. they happen when you least expect it, and it's not painful or anything, just surprising. one day you step through the door and when you step back through it's a week and a half later.

***

chicago was a great deal of fun--we rode in cabs and limos and ate at at least two swanky places, all courtesy company funds. then stayed at a really ritzy place down town chicago called the congress plaza hotel. the building was old--not, obviously, as old as a castle in, say, romania or something, but old enough to have twelve-foot ceilings and doors that, if the paint were stripped, surely would have had beautiful wood beneath.

the hotel room also came with assorted pipe clunkings in the night and a closet in the room that had a light that was supposed to turn off when you shut the door.

of course, it did not, and i woke at one point when the el went past at 4 am wondering if i was on set for the next poltergeist movie. (glowing door, etc.)

anyway the plane was lovely even with lateness and turbulence, though on the return flight i got seated next to The Squirmer--by this i mean a man crunched on his side, trying to get comfortable with an inflatable pillow and an airplane blanket.

his version of comfortable unfortunately involved making me vaguely uncomfortable. the guy in front of me also was conspiring and knocked his seat back. if it were any further i could have done a dental exam. ungh.

so after that trip, i slept wednesday night, laundered on thursday night, picked up a vehicle on friday afternoon, and drove 250 miles west to have a pedicure and a massage and be a general amoeba with my girlfriends at a fairly posh hotel that was definitely not covered by company funds. *sigh*

drove to my parents' house on sunday and stayed until monday night, drove home and spent tuesday returning the rental car and surprising my sister with a visit.

and now it's 1 pm on wednesday, and i am finally doing what i'm supposed to do on a vacation: sitting around in my fuzzy pink slippers and pajamas, surfing the web for cars and listening to the soft drone of my cat, snoring on the pillow at my feet.

***

my youngest sister got a dog three weeks ago from the humane society. she's about a year old and a mix of breeds that resulted in her looking like a smaller version of a german shepherd. she's quite friendly and affectionate, and already knew how to sit and shake hands, and ask to be let outside.

b took her in the day after she'd adopted the dog and was told she was in good health and was probably full-grown at 35 lbs. in the last week and a half, though, she's gained some weight.

and miraculously, is preggers.

on monday i got to go with b and her friend to the vet, to find out how many puppies darcy was carrying. it was a total of six and the vet said she could be giving birth at any time in the near future.

this morning i got a call--the dog's water broke last night, but no puppies were delivered, so she's in surgery now. i'm waiting on a call to find out if mama and babies made it through.

time stretches out based on what is going on. since i'm waiting for a call, the last two hours have been terribly long and improbably time-consuming. i know most folks would say, "it's just a dog," but having seen the bond between my sister and her dog, and knowing how attached i am to my felines, i cannot imagine how much longer time must feel for her.

***

and now it's wednesday. i still have a lot to do this week, and so little time in which to accomplish it. i really would like to get my house cleaned--by cleaned i mean floors shampooed and a load of stuff taken to the thrift store. but i also want to relax some, read and watch the three or four netflix items sitting on our tv that are solely for my viewing.

and i want to write, and find a car, and possibly find a couch and a new bed, too.

it's a steep slope i'm working on here, one that i'm not sure i want to navigate, but one that i suppose i ought to tackle. i would like to make some headway this week, even if it's just showering on a daily basis. i don't ask for much.

but i certainly wish there was a bit more time.

travel

today i get ready to go to chicago--tomorrow morning my flight leaves when it's still dark out, and then i return on tuesday when it's dark, too. friday i drive to my girly weekend in western minnesota, and then i have a blessed week to recover, during which i can hopefully:

a) visit and hug friends
b) come up with a halloween costume
c) relaxxxxxxxxxx

but this morning, when i woke and thought i'd bake muffins to munch this morning, i decided after being vertical for an hour that it's time to travel--the short distance, back to bed.

you give me fever...

marlene dietrich growled out that song ages ago, and today, i wish i could sing it to my coworkers. fever isn't that high but i feel all muddled and chilly. will be putting myself down for a nap shortly.

when i get a fever i know it before i take my temp because i feel like i do when i get a migraine--everything is louder, smellier, i can feel every hair on my scalp and every line of my clothing pressing into my skin. it's like having your eyes dilated--the world is too bright to look at.

at the same time, i am lost, distracted by all the glaring minutae, and i want to crawl into bed and sleep, but i know that when i lay down and become comfortable, i will be too hot, and then too cold, back and forth until i give up and sit up on the couch, and wait for whatever this is to pass.

i try to be positive about it--perhaps i will not get the full cold, the one everyone at work has been propogating for weeks. perhaps the fever will burn all those renegade cells to a crisp, yellowstone after the fires, and i will simply wake tomorrow or later today and be clean and ready to move.

it feels, however, at the beginning of the fever when my joints are tender and slightly achy, that my skeleton and assorted fleshy bits are settling in for the long haul.

the week of rude and obnoxious thought

i could begin this post by saying "it's been one of those weeks." but that seems silly at the moment, because EVERY week is "one of those weeks."

honestly this week was bad--an emotional roller coaster, ending with a trip to my parents' house today to literally and figuratively shoot guns. yes, guns: rifles, shotguns, etc. it's quite refreshing to shoot--to hear that loud, loud bang, to feel the gun plunk into your shoulder, to smell the tang of gunpowder and grease. there's a kennel, run by the shooting range, so the day is also punctuated by barks and yelps.

of course all of this will be muffled by ear plugs.

the figurative shots will be taken at the house, where my sisters will be annoyed with me for missing a camping trip. i doubt that my brother will even have noticed. which would be par for the course.

what i keep echoing in my mind is that life is too gods-damned short to be tied up constantly in drama or self-recrimination. if something happens, deal with it. there is no other way to live.

i will freely admit to putting it into practice not as often as i should.

example: i have a car. said vehicle needs either to be overhauled so that i can stop dumping antifreeze into it, or traded in for a new model. i've looked online, sat in a few cars, considered my options. but have a made a decision, and dealt with it?

i'm sure most folks would say i have not dealt with it, and they're partially correct. but filling the antifreeze on a weekly basis is my way of dealing with this situation. i've made a decision. it's just not the decision that everyone else would make.

this week i've been faced with some odd things: one friend loses a child, one friend takes their still-tiny preemie home from the hospital, one friend reveals a stress about a child who is yet to be.

there is no fair. there is only pain--but pain can be sweet and it can be sour. one serves to illuminate the other; that is the only way to view it, in my mind.

the problem i am having this week is that people all too easily forget the beauty of their lives--how their love for one another is beautiful daily, how the frost settling on grass is breathtaking, how having food in their kitchen is a miracle. it is the small things in life that have to balance out the large and ugly ones. one cannot expect that those big ugly things are balanced only by large beautiful ones, because they are not. the balance comes from keeping this in mind.

i cannot always practice what i preach, mind you. but for whatever reason this week i am simply glad to be alive, and i'm feeling quite ungracious to those people who rail against the unfair and ugly on an indifferent planet, where both can quickly become the opposite.

last night i could have come home after work and spent the evening writing, but that would have been in the company of friends, and i was not the most social of women yesterday. instead i shopped, hidden and finding anonymity in the masses, and when my feet were sore enough for me to be thankful, i came home.

yes, sore feet. those two soles reminded me that i was among the lucky to have sore feet from walking in heated comfort, and not from walking over rocks barefoot. that i had a roof over my head, when i wanted and needed it, and a place to lay down in safety.

and if that is not enough for me, then i am too needy, and need reminding again of the lack of fair in the world.

that's my inflamatory post of the year. i'm off to pull triggers.

peanut butter toast and procrastination

i'm a procrastinator. i know very well what that means, and i'm not always that proud of that title. but knowing that i am one sometimes can help me overcome the tendency.

not, however, this morning.

for the past few weeks i've had the worst insomnia. i can fall asleep, but i can't stay there. for whatever reason, the minute i tumble into blissful oblivion, my mind wants to crawl out and move around again. it's something i can combat by taking two benadryl, but i dislike that due to the groggy feeling that overwhelms me the next morning.

so last night i figured i'd go the natural route, so i could be fresh for today. my goal was to get up, get going, and get out the door to do some laundry. however, what happened instead was the nasty state of my kitchen slapping me across the face, and my first instinct to clean it up. which i did.

and then i was hungry. i almost baked muffins for the umpteenth week in a row but then decided against it and slathered peanut butter on my toast while watching a backyard be re-done on home and garden television.

i have a list of things to be done--bills to pay, clothing to wash, places to go, people to see--but i'm lagging behind. right now i'm thinking in terms of my life as my toast--peanut butter sticking my tongue to the roof of my mouth.

a natural phenomenon, but annoying all the same.

dusk

i'm living in one of those between times--the time before the sun makes up its mind about rising or falling. it's gray, it's murky, it's plush and soft, and i'd like to remain insulated thusly forever.

the problem with being in said position is that at some point you have to wade out and face reality.

reality in the form of many, many things: my yowling cats, a car that needs work, bills that probably should be paid, milk before it goes bad--i could continue for weeks on end.

sleeping and waking in the gray is tempting. it's safe here--secure. i can pretend that the rest of the world and its opinions don't matter to me.

i am the ostrich, head stuck in sand.

and i'm comfortable.

i think a lot of the time it's because of this that my life stalls out. it's not that there is not fuel, or that i cannot find the fuel, to keep going. it's because locating fuel takes effort, and living in the gray is effortless, like coasting down a long, sloping hill.

there are always hurdles, and the hurdles and fences of the world are what stop me. there is usually a way around the distraction: i can hop over it, i can look for a way around, i can get pissed and just punch my way through ala the doors and break on through to the other side.

but again, that requires effort. and i am a minimal effort kind of person.

that doesn't mean that my house is a mess--because it's not. it doesn't mean my kitchen is moldy--because it's not--or that my cats are living in filth.

the definition is simply that instead of scaling mount everest, i'm the one cleaning out the pots and pans at base camp. and i'm happy to be there and not proclaiming myself queen of the known universe at the apex of a mountain.

my problem, i am discovering, is that i feel the pressure of the world's expectations of me to be the one at the top of the mountain. i feel pressure to be in as good of shape as my sister, the marathon runner, whose dog can wear me out after two miles. i feel pressure to be as well-dressed as my youngest sister, who is always at the height of fashion and make-up. and i feel the ubiquitous pressure of friends to keep up with the proverbial fucking jones family, whoever they are, blast and damn them to hell.

in the end, however, i keep trying to remind myself that the pressures i feel are all self-inflicted. just because someone says something does not make it so--ie, if i am told the sky is yellow, i've gotta check for myself before agreeing; science needs to back it up with fact.

now, if someone implies that i'm a plump woman, i take it to the next level. when i walk past a mirror, all i can see is my giant ass, crammed into khakis, swaying around like a lost planet. it does not matter that probably half the planet has larger tushes; mine is attached to this body, and this body is what i lug around on a daily basis.

that is just a simplified example of the self-flagellation that i perform on a habitual cycle. all the things i have agreed to--the things other people have said, the things society has mentioned--i have agreed to without pause, without basing my ideals in fact, without using logic. so when i look in the mirror, i can see all those labels pasted on me, as if i were a piece of luggage that's been round the world a few times.

yeah, i can blame the world, but in the end, i was the one who applied the stickers.

and in the gray, i'm too tired to remove them. perhaps tomorrow, when the fog lifts, after i have slept, after i have filled the hours with baking and cleaning and all kinds of things that cloud the between hours with meaningless matter--then, perhaps, i will sit down and begin to clean up my mental decoupage.

i need an interpreter! STAT!

the world is full of languages. there's that great story about the tower of babel, where all the people were together and couldn't understand a word the people around them were saying.

personally, i rarely run into this type of issue. i live in minnesota, and although there is a TON of diversity here (we boast the highest level of hmong-americans in the states) i scarcely ever run into issues with language.

i will freely admit to the exception of my hearing, which really needs to have subtitles at all times. case in point: earlier two teammates were discussing an issue. the comment was made that someone would "back up" soon, in relation to sides of the building and a person. i was really confused because i thought they said that the person had hiccups.

so mis-hearing things is a BIG part of my daily life.

i rely heavily on body language to get through the day--if i do not understand the words, if someone cannot enunciate, etc--then it becomes vital that i am reading their body and face well enough to keep up with the conversation.

emailing, unfortunately, is open to so much interpretation that it's painful, and none of it relies on anything but little ol' me.

long ago i learned the hard way that you cannot read ANYTHING into an email--you have to feel out the sender if you need more explanation.

during the workday, while you're sitting at your desk/cube/in your car/wherever you work, you are already dragging around the stress of work. you're annoyed because you had to leave the warmth and familiarity of your own home, and come in to a chilly office that surrounds you with the soft shade of gray and the gripes of a thousand souls.

so when you get an email that could be taken in a variety of ways, all of a sudden, the outlet appears.

i know this happens because it happens to me all the time, and it happens with everyone i know. my sister sends an email, my aunt, my father, my friends, my coworkers--and i read it and interpret their emotions, their feelings, their opinions, and it swells like high tide. before i know it, all the ugly that i have been schlepping around for the past week--at home and now at work--all of it pours out, and i see those words, and i react in a manner that perhaps i would not if the person were standing in front of me.

i know i have said things in emails that i would probably never say in real life, simply because the object of my anger is not sitting beside me, to remind me that i am speaking to another human being. i'm sitting in my gray cage, being angry, and replying with angry words because it's an angry kind of day.

if it happens, i want to deal with it, which is why email is a boon and at the same time, a horrible, horrible medium.

emailing facts is one thing--"it is 75 degrees outside and sunny here."

emailing opinions--"i really did not like that salad you made for dinner last night"-- is a horse of another color.

yesterday, i had enough of the angry.

it has only been 21 days since that bridge collapsed. years are in between me and the death of dan's brother, of my aunt, of cari's mom. but it all is so sudden, and i need to keep that in mind. i would not want to be gone tomorrow and have the people around me think, "she died hating me" or "i never got the chance to talk to her about that issue."

i am old enough to want to just nip things in the bud and move on, and live life instead of pussy-footing around the issue. it takes up too much time and energy, both of which could be better spent elsewhere--cuddling with my boyfriend, playing catch with my kitty, writing and re-writing the half-assed novel with which i've been noodling.

in the end, the end happens too quickly.

yesterday morning i went and found my copy of epictetus--this is obviously a modernized version of the original. epictetus, if anyone wonders, lived way back in nero's day (the guy who was violining when rome burned). he was born a slave and a cripple--unable to be anything more, in that time. luckily, his owner sent epictetus to school alongside his own son, and eventually emancipated him. he became a well-known philosopher, but eventually was exiled for being a philosopher.

he's one of the original stoics, and taught marcus aurelius at one point. i ought to read "the art of living" more often; the first page alone was so perfect for the situation that i will post a bit of it here:

"Happiness and freedom begin with a clear understanding of one principle: Some things are within our control and some things are not. It is only after you have faced up to this fundamental rule and learned to distinguish between what you can and can't control that inner tranquility and outer effectiveness become possible.

Within our control are our own opinions, aspirations, desires and the things that repel us....

Outside of our control, however, are such things as what kind of body we have, whether we're born into wealth or strike it rich, how we are regarded by others, and our status in society. We must remember that those things are externals and therefore not our concern. Trying to control or to change what we can't only results in torment."

the psychology of a muffin

i will never forget the first time i had dinner with my friend, cari. i knew we would probably be best friends, right then and there, when she was sauteing peppers and asked if i'd mind music, and the living room was filled with alice in chains.

about two weeks later we were sitting at work. one of the younger kids came and sat with us, where we were doing a crossword. (i know, it sounds really staid, but i think that was the day we gave up on the clues and tried just fitting swear words into the puzzle. "will fuck fit there? no? how about fuk? sweet.") tom sat down and we chatted for a few minutes, and then he said, so what kind of music to you guys listen to? dave matthews?

we both grimaced and rattled off a list of bands. as the list grew, so did the size of tom's eyes. he clearly had no clue that two girls working at a grocery store and wearing green aprons could possibly enjoy music that makes moms cringe and dads yell things such as: "will you turn that crap down? for the love of god!"

is it because i don't look like a hard rock chick? i don't wear lots of black, my hair is calm and aqua-net free, and i've retired the combat boot look since it wore out in the nineties.

and yet i love love love metal. my current repeat cd is disturbed, ten thousand fists. it's so cathartic and pleasant.

of course i alternate this with that music that people might expect me to play--the puppini sisters, loreena mckennit, dead can dance, amy winehouse, they might be giants--being that i could win a suburban soccer mom look-alike contest. there are three categories in this, two of which i could pass with flying colors, the third of which i'd fail miserably.

1. enjoys shopping
2. can create dinner (with help of the frozen foods section and betty crocker)
3. has 2.5 children and drives an suv, preferably one that gets less than 13 mpg and sports a "my child is an honor student at (insert name here) middle school."

dan and i were talking about this the other day. in my mind, men can listen to just about anything they want to, without getting weird looks. oh, people might laugh at someone's choice, but they won't look at you as if your third eye is wearing bad mascara.

i have a lot of girlfriends like this--women who like to rock while putting together a pan of berry cobbler, who turn up the music until the windows rattle. you would think that after this many years, the stereotypes would be little broken shards on the floor, but there still seems to be some unspoken rule about the way that you look needing to fit into the cookie cutter section at the crafts store.

why the focus on this? well, my new job position is going to be something wherein i will be meeting the public more often, and therefore must dress up. i think about the small talk that people make during meetings--how was your weekend, what did you do, etc--and i think about what i have in common with an accountant.

for a while this week i was in a panic. yesterday i pled headache and scurried home, feeling the need to hide somewhere until all the wrinkles were ironed out.

this morning i decided to consider my fears in a different manner. the first thing that popped into my head was: here i am, being such a complete hypocrite! i've been stewing on the fact that perhaps i am afraid of this position, and meeting people who might think that i am strange and odd for being who i am.

how can i sit here and be so selfish? the first time i walk into a room, how do i know that the other person will not be feeling the selfsame way? how can i label a cpa as someone who golfs on weekends and wears glasses, when in all actuality, they might be doing the same thing i did this morning--baking oatmeal chocolate chip muffins while listening to three days grace?

i need to let go of the label i have placed on this position and on myself and remember that every person on this planet is just as unique and has the capacity to be just as confused and afraid as i am.

the muffins came out of the oven hot, smelling like warm oatmeal and melted milk chocolate. it's pretty sappy, and well do i know it, but i've gotta just keep thinking of those 12 muffins, each one in its individual cup, made up of the same ingredients as its neighbor, but each shaped separately and by that separation, made different.

shifting ground

i've never been through an earthquake, so i can't say i know how it feels to have the earth actually dancing around beneath my soles. i can say that i have had the rug pulled out from below too many times to count, and i can report that every time is just as surprising as the next.

i suppose that's why every time it takes a while to pick myself back up and move forward.

my feeling is that the rug at this juncture is my job. everyone else at work is getting new job duties--mine. and i'm just handing them out as if my coworkers are trick-or-treaters. it's difficult, and i know that the next job position will be interesting and i'll enjoy it because that's just who i am, but i'm still peeved at the way the entire process has been handled, stem to stern.

the job thing has been affecting all bits of my life. i've always been a cautious person--probably overly cautious, anyone who knows me would venture. and if i withdraw at times like these i can only say it's instinct.

i didn't get the tortoise award in 2nd grade for nothing, folks.

i'm a plodder, and when the going gets rough, i need time to process. that time is spent in my shell, patching up my psyche for the next encounter.

it comes and goes, the depression. i know that there are ways in which i can assist my body in the climb, and i do a good job for the most part. it's only when that rug gets replaced that i find myself sliding down again, into that pit that's always waiting.

in my mind it's an open mouth--a large, gaping red maw, lined with rows of sharks' teeth and the blunt molars of a horse--all the better to eat you with, my dear.

sometimes i can shut it up. or ignore its presence. but other times--these times--it is a precarious act of balance for me to remain vertical for the majority of the day. i just want to sleep--curled up in the afternoon, a siesta, a nap.

i think it's because internally, at the core of my concious, i know that the bed does not move. i feel safe cocooned under comforters, more safe than i can when i am awake and alert. how is it that when i am at my most vulnerable i am most secure?

ignorance, i suppose, is bliss.

ignorance is what keeps me plodding along, every day. it is what keeps me lugging around the shell on my back, ready at a moment's notice to be pulled over my head, so that i might consider the world in silence and darkness. ignorance of my own life.

ignorance bothers me, in a general sense. but in the sense of life, it's necessary. if i am able to be ignorant about the future, if i cannot plan for every contingency, then i will keep on going.

if i dwell on the scary and the shadows and those things that go bump in the night, i will stop altogether.

so i suppose in the end this shifting ground beneath my feet is healthy. it is part and parcel of being alive, and on the planet, and a member of society at large. it is something to which i should be conditioned, by now.

but the fact that i have not--that is what keeps me ticking, in the end.

odd

i've been feeling quite odd since leaving work yesterday. since all my job duties have been divvied up in between about 5 coworkers, i technically should have nothing to be concerned about come Monday.

strange to consider. i don't think i've had a vacation in ten years that has allowed me the comfort of being worry-free in regards to my own desk.

i am, of course, still worried. it's genetic, and despite my best efforts, i still am concerned about my coworkers and how they will handle things. i disliked the way in which my responsibilities were divided, and there was so much grumbling yesterday that i wanted to weep. it's not my fault that my friends are being overburdened with all this work--clearly i would have liked to have kept the position i had--but i still feel responsible, in no small way.

and guilty for having a few days off this week, while they are trying to learn and keep things under control. i told them to call or email if they had questions, but i'm sure that they'll muddle through.

(all right, truth be told, i have no idea if they've called or emailed this morning, because although i've been awake for two hours now, i have yet to examine either media source.)

i also am not looking forward to the next few days. my sister and bro in law are going out of town and their usual dog-sitting duo is awol due to a broken leg on the part of one spouse. i volunteered and while caring for a dog is fairly simple, i am not especially looking forward to it. i like dogs, don't get me wrong. but in the last few years i really feel like i've become a cat person--cats are so much more independent, and mine at least are just about as social as any dog i've met. i don't have to take them outside every few hours, or wake up at ungodly hours of the morning to go for a walk and feed them.

tonight we are finally going to spamalot, though, and that i have been looking forward to since dan purchased the tickets a year ago. so with no further ado, i'll be cleaning up the house, looking up directions to the ordway, and getting myself ready for a night of music and laughter.

in the end, odd as it may feel, i ought to be grateful simply to be feeling.