23 August 2007
Love of my life.
06 July 2007
Supine Technology
My neck hurts. Crampy and cricky or stiff or whatever the hell you want to call it. So I laid down flat on my back after a rigorous un-knotting that has probably left Eric with knots in his palms that would rival those he arduously worked out of my back.
We made small talk. Nice, bcause he was fading fast and I enjoyed the window of time to spend together before he nodded off. Not the point. He mentioned referring me a client. I kicked around (again) the idea of raising my rates because gas costs fourteen dollars a gallon (or close to it anyway).
So I checked my voice mail to see if the referral had left a message. I tossed the phone aside. Then I reached over and grabbed the laptop, and double checked a work order that dispatch had left me a voice mail about. Unfortunately, I deleted the voice mail assuming that a record would be on the work order. It wasn't. Oh well.
Then I shopped around for hair dye. Again. My hair is still blahblahbrown. Boo hoo. Well, maybe tomorrow. Then I checked a few different email account, sent some messages, and watched a 1987 anti-drug public service announcement ("I learned it from watching YOU, Dad!!!").
I swapped a few movies around on my NetFlix Queue.
I checked my website visitor stats (shameful).
And then I posted this blog.
Why is any of this important?
Because I'm still lying flat on my back.
Oh, the wonders of modern technology! When else have we, as a society, languished in such Roman-esque luxury? When else would it have been possible for me to conduct two hours of business, shopping, and idleness, lying flat on my back, knees drawn up?
(This is NOT ME. I am not blonde.
I also do NOT own a MacBook, even though I really, really want one.)
We made small talk. Nice, bcause he was fading fast and I enjoyed the window of time to spend together before he nodded off. Not the point. He mentioned referring me a client. I kicked around (again) the idea of raising my rates because gas costs fourteen dollars a gallon (or close to it anyway).
So I checked my voice mail to see if the referral had left a message. I tossed the phone aside. Then I reached over and grabbed the laptop, and double checked a work order that dispatch had left me a voice mail about. Unfortunately, I deleted the voice mail assuming that a record would be on the work order. It wasn't. Oh well.
Then I shopped around for hair dye. Again. My hair is still blahblahbrown. Boo hoo. Well, maybe tomorrow. Then I checked a few different email account, sent some messages, and watched a 1987 anti-drug public service announcement ("I learned it from watching YOU, Dad!!!").
I swapped a few movies around on my NetFlix Queue.
I checked my website visitor stats (shameful).
And then I posted this blog.
Why is any of this important?
Because I'm still lying flat on my back.
Oh, the wonders of modern technology! When else have we, as a society, languished in such Roman-esque luxury? When else would it have been possible for me to conduct two hours of business, shopping, and idleness, lying flat on my back, knees drawn up?
I'll spare the rhetoric and just add in a picture here of some
random chick laying in about the same position as I am:
random chick laying in about the same position as I am:
(This is NOT ME. I am not blonde.
I also do NOT own a MacBook, even though I really, really want one.)
That's it for now kiddies. Play nice. Be slothful whenever you can. Its good for the soul. Oh, and go to the damn beach if its not raining. Its the summer. And its the weekend.
30 June 2007
Vomit Sunrise
The comment left to Boy from Girl online 25 Jan 2006:
Who knew following someone's car around for two hours could be so much fun?
The email Boy received from Dirty Bitch 28 Feb 2006:
On a side note I was reading comments on your page and noticed one from Girl about following a car around for two hours. Would that have happened to be my car that kept you two so entertained?
For the record Dirty Bitch's car was most certainly not the car in reference. Girl and Boy have better things to do with their time than follow Dirty Bitch around. Unlike Dirty Bitch, Boy and Girl are not small minded little children.(this post aside). Even if Dirty Bitch's boyfriend asked Girl to follow her around because she is a lying cheating, well, Dirty Bitch, this does not mean that Girl and Boy care what or who she does in the backseat of her generic jalopy.
And the vomit rises in the back of my throat as morning sunshine breaks over the horizon. Dirty Bitch sucks. Sucks hard.
Response sent from Boy to Dirty Bitch in reference to her question:
No. Girl was following me because we took separate cars on the adventure. (insert details about the evening's events here) Honestly, Dirty Bitch, do I seem so pathetic that it would be plausible to imagine I would follow your car around for two hours just to amuse Girl? Are you kidding?
The pure and utter disdain is what really shoves the toothbrush handle into the deepest recesses of my throat. Fuck your disdain. Because, Boy, you'd happily string Dirty Bitch's head on a clothesline if you thought it would please Girl. Now, anyway.
Now. Little word, big meaning.
This thing will never die.
Dirty Bitch will never cease to exist.
Please excuse Girl while she empties the contents of her stomach into the nearest available receptacle.
The wistful-eyed skirt chasing is an inescapable fact. The flirting and the simple fact that Dirty Bitch has to exist in the annals of history is a fact I barely tolerate. My status as Consolation Prize will remain a heavy question I probaby don't ever really want an answer to. The pictures and emails to Mother sicken me a bit (in lack of explanation accompanying pictures, its clear Dirty Bitch must have been a subject worthy of discussion, which is more than could be said of Yours Truly), but I do reasonably well at not giving it too much thought.
But the sheer disdain contained in that half-paragraph will burn in my belly for a long time.
Fuck you, Tits McGee.
When the barkeep shouts his last call and switches on the harsh lights of reality, you're nothing more than a distant faded memory.
Who knew following someone's car around for two hours could be so much fun?
The email Boy received from Dirty Bitch 28 Feb 2006:
On a side note I was reading comments on your page and noticed one from Girl about following a car around for two hours. Would that have happened to be my car that kept you two so entertained?
For the record Dirty Bitch's car was most certainly not the car in reference. Girl and Boy have better things to do with their time than follow Dirty Bitch around. Unlike Dirty Bitch, Boy and Girl are not small minded little children.(this post aside). Even if Dirty Bitch's boyfriend asked Girl to follow her around because she is a lying cheating, well, Dirty Bitch, this does not mean that Girl and Boy care what or who she does in the backseat of her generic jalopy.
And the vomit rises in the back of my throat as morning sunshine breaks over the horizon. Dirty Bitch sucks. Sucks hard.
Response sent from Boy to Dirty Bitch in reference to her question:
No. Girl was following me because we took separate cars on the adventure. (insert details about the evening's events here) Honestly, Dirty Bitch, do I seem so pathetic that it would be plausible to imagine I would follow your car around for two hours just to amuse Girl? Are you kidding?
The pure and utter disdain is what really shoves the toothbrush handle into the deepest recesses of my throat. Fuck your disdain. Because, Boy, you'd happily string Dirty Bitch's head on a clothesline if you thought it would please Girl. Now, anyway.
Now. Little word, big meaning.
This thing will never die.
Dirty Bitch will never cease to exist.
Please excuse Girl while she empties the contents of her stomach into the nearest available receptacle.
The wistful-eyed skirt chasing is an inescapable fact. The flirting and the simple fact that Dirty Bitch has to exist in the annals of history is a fact I barely tolerate. My status as Consolation Prize will remain a heavy question I probaby don't ever really want an answer to. The pictures and emails to Mother sicken me a bit (in lack of explanation accompanying pictures, its clear Dirty Bitch must have been a subject worthy of discussion, which is more than could be said of Yours Truly), but I do reasonably well at not giving it too much thought.
But the sheer disdain contained in that half-paragraph will burn in my belly for a long time.
Fuck you, Tits McGee.
When the barkeep shouts his last call and switches on the harsh lights of reality, you're nothing more than a distant faded memory.
25 June 2007
Little Miss Pink Head
Here's a rough approximation of the actual effect I'm hoping to create with the blue. And NO I am not some insane Joss Stone wannabe. For the recrd I saw her on teh Manic Panic website, and said to myself, that's exactly what I am trying to do with the blue!!! But then you can't blame the girl for having a great stylist. ;-p
Anyway.
Anyway.
Little Miss Blue Head.
(copied from an email sent to my overhelmingly tolerant man)
Alright. Its five thirty.
I've spent the last three hours poring over hair dye and dreadlock how-to's. Its blue highlights for sure. I'm still holding out hope that you really mean you love me no matter what, because one day honey it really is going to be dreadlocks and I hope you can stand it.
So anyway.......
Special Effects seems to be the hair colour du jour.... with a trillion user-based reviews touting its staying power over that of punky color or manic panic.
Here's the tried-and-true conundrum slash giant fuckup in the making:
I always want to err on the side of caution, to avoid day-glo way-too-light colours. And i always end up going too dark.
This time that is NOT going to happen!!! Don't let it.
I already decided that I want blue, not turquoise per se, but bright and not deep dark.
Already I am gravitating to the deeper darker colors. And that sucks. Because these are swatches done on white white demo hair I'm looking at (they always are), and I'm only bleaching to a medium blonde so hen they fade they can probably pass for highlights. On deeper thought they might not truly fade and might retain a teal-type stain. In that case light brown dye will drop them to a great highlight because if applied all oer it will darken the rest of the hair up and make it noticeable.
Seriously sometimes I think I went into the wrong profession.
But aestheticians, and particularly the ones who specialize in funky hair colours, are notoriously cute and stylish, and I am most certainly neither. Or if you want to insist on my cuteness and radiance and funky stylishness, you'll at least have to agree that its not their type.
But I digress.
http://www.specialeffectsusa.com/hair_dye.html
On first look its a toss up between Blue Mayhem and Blue Haired Freak.
The fear of, and gravitation away from too-turquoise shades comes into play here because I'm trying to avoid ending up with powder blue.
But again I really need to remember that I am NOT bleaching to white so whatever I choose will end up darker and therefore negates the possibility of a chalky pastel result. Digression. My greatest fault. Anyway the colors look perfect in their swatch form on the site.
Fishbowl s a little much. Blue velvet would be great as a base all over color with thick black highlights (mental note for later).
But its Blue Haired Freak or Blue Mayhem.
And really I think I'm leaning toward Blue Mayhem in an exercise of safety. My reckless and interesting inner voice (the one who cooked up this brilliant scheme in the first place) is telling me that it will be too dark. And she's right. She's always right about it being too dark.
Here are the swatches (from haircrazy.com)
Blue Haired Freak, Blue Mayhem, and Blue Velvet.
Really I just included the Velvet because its gorgeous. It really will scare my clients away though But let's mentally bookmark it for the absolute first order of business when I eventually hire someone to go play nice with the old folks in my stead.
Now you kind of see what I mean about the color difference.
Here, in a white-base hair swatch the Freak is really light. its actually described as "a dazzlingly bright medium blue shade - one of Special Effects' lighter blue colours. For the brightest and bluest results use on hair that has been pre-lightened to pale blond." Pale blonde. Okay, so maybe not an actual white base. But I was going to lighten to a gold-blonde kind of like the highlights I put in a few months ago. Th Mayhem is described as " a super vibrant shade of blue. Blue Mayhem produces rich shimmery blue results on hair that has been pre-lightened to pale blond and may also give a blue tint to untreated hair." This seems more up my alley. Not safe, and not probably too dark, but Precisely the color that I'm in the market for.
Interestingly enough, I found another website that compares the blues offered by Special Effects, in which they place Freak as even lighter than Electric, with Blue Mayhem falling slightly deeper than Electric. Interesting. (http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node=special%20effects)
Here's a picture of a girl with a gorgeous colour blue that I think is perfect. Its enough to stand out but not extremely blendifferous, so you can see it ad its great without shouting HEY LOOK AT MY BLUE HIGHLIGHTS. Unfortunately this particular image does not mention what color she uses.
All three of these people are using Blue Mayhem. The girl with the dreads is about the same color as the one above who didn't denote a specific product. The rainbow one with the sunglasses came up a little purple but I am pretty sure that she did her colors all at once and some of the pink mixed in. The last one is a bit dark but i am pretty safe in assuming that she did it on unbleached or minimally lightened hair, because her overall effect is dark.
This first one is using a combination of Fishbowl, Blue Haired Freak, and Electric Blue to get a gradient effect. Problem is that you really can't differentiate between the three to tell which is which. The darkest color in the back is most likely the Electric Blue, and the one I gravitate toward, but then who really knows? The second is another with Fishbowl but you can clearly see which is which. The third is another freshly dyed Blue Mayhem. I found a lot of other Blue Mayhem pics but they were all a few weeks after dyeing, poorly taken care of, and faded as hell. Fortunately for me I have exceedingly porous hair and know how to keep highly unusual colours in as long as possible.
Here are a few more shots of Blue Mayhem, taken from http://www.beeunique.co.uk/bluepage1.htm. There's a girl on page five 'round about the middle that reminds me of when I went purple/blue back when Miss Chickie was in Kindergarten. Happy hunting. ;-)
And a few Blue Haired Freak. See how similar they are to the Mayhems? What a pain in my ass!
And finally, here's the greatest idea in all of known history. Mayhem and Freak. Mixed together. Pure Genius. Because WHY THE FUCK NOT???
Oh honey, you're gonna be so sorry you signed on for the hair dyeing game. Really, I'm extending my deepest of condolences. Because ow not only are you going to be subjected to my obsessive chatter, but you get small-novella length emails which require extensive replies. Oh yeah, did I mention the extensive reply?
Lovelovelove.
Alright. Its five thirty.
I've spent the last three hours poring over hair dye and dreadlock how-to's. Its blue highlights for sure. I'm still holding out hope that you really mean you love me no matter what, because one day honey it really is going to be dreadlocks and I hope you can stand it.
So anyway.......
Special Effects seems to be the hair colour du jour.... with a trillion user-based reviews touting its staying power over that of punky color or manic panic.
Here's the tried-and-true conundrum slash giant fuckup in the making:
I always want to err on the side of caution, to avoid day-glo way-too-light colours. And i always end up going too dark.
This time that is NOT going to happen!!! Don't let it.
I already decided that I want blue, not turquoise per se, but bright and not deep dark.
Already I am gravitating to the deeper darker colors. And that sucks. Because these are swatches done on white white demo hair I'm looking at (they always are), and I'm only bleaching to a medium blonde so hen they fade they can probably pass for highlights. On deeper thought they might not truly fade and might retain a teal-type stain. In that case light brown dye will drop them to a great highlight because if applied all oer it will darken the rest of the hair up and make it noticeable.
Seriously sometimes I think I went into the wrong profession.
But aestheticians, and particularly the ones who specialize in funky hair colours, are notoriously cute and stylish, and I am most certainly neither. Or if you want to insist on my cuteness and radiance and funky stylishness, you'll at least have to agree that its not their type.
But I digress.
http://www.specialeffectsusa.com/hair_dye.html
On first look its a toss up between Blue Mayhem and Blue Haired Freak.
The fear of, and gravitation away from too-turquoise shades comes into play here because I'm trying to avoid ending up with powder blue.
But again I really need to remember that I am NOT bleaching to white so whatever I choose will end up darker and therefore negates the possibility of a chalky pastel result. Digression. My greatest fault. Anyway the colors look perfect in their swatch form on the site.
Fishbowl s a little much. Blue velvet would be great as a base all over color with thick black highlights (mental note for later).
But its Blue Haired Freak or Blue Mayhem.
And really I think I'm leaning toward Blue Mayhem in an exercise of safety. My reckless and interesting inner voice (the one who cooked up this brilliant scheme in the first place) is telling me that it will be too dark. And she's right. She's always right about it being too dark.
Here are the swatches (from haircrazy.com)
Blue Haired Freak, Blue Mayhem, and Blue Velvet.
Really I just included the Velvet because its gorgeous. It really will scare my clients away though But let's mentally bookmark it for the absolute first order of business when I eventually hire someone to go play nice with the old folks in my stead.
Now you kind of see what I mean about the color difference.
Here, in a white-base hair swatch the Freak is really light. its actually described as "a dazzlingly bright medium blue shade - one of Special Effects' lighter blue colours. For the brightest and bluest results use on hair that has been pre-lightened to pale blond." Pale blonde. Okay, so maybe not an actual white base. But I was going to lighten to a gold-blonde kind of like the highlights I put in a few months ago. Th Mayhem is described as " a super vibrant shade of blue. Blue Mayhem produces rich shimmery blue results on hair that has been pre-lightened to pale blond and may also give a blue tint to untreated hair." This seems more up my alley. Not safe, and not probably too dark, but Precisely the color that I'm in the market for.
Interestingly enough, I found another website that compares the blues offered by Special Effects, in which they place Freak as even lighter than Electric, with Blue Mayhem falling slightly deeper than Electric. Interesting. (http://www.everything2.com/index.pl?node=special%20effects)
Here's a picture of a girl with a gorgeous colour blue that I think is perfect. Its enough to stand out but not extremely blendifferous, so you can see it ad its great without shouting HEY LOOK AT MY BLUE HIGHLIGHTS. Unfortunately this particular image does not mention what color she uses.
All three of these people are using Blue Mayhem. The girl with the dreads is about the same color as the one above who didn't denote a specific product. The rainbow one with the sunglasses came up a little purple but I am pretty sure that she did her colors all at once and some of the pink mixed in. The last one is a bit dark but i am pretty safe in assuming that she did it on unbleached or minimally lightened hair, because her overall effect is dark.
This first one is using a combination of Fishbowl, Blue Haired Freak, and Electric Blue to get a gradient effect. Problem is that you really can't differentiate between the three to tell which is which. The darkest color in the back is most likely the Electric Blue, and the one I gravitate toward, but then who really knows? The second is another with Fishbowl but you can clearly see which is which. The third is another freshly dyed Blue Mayhem. I found a lot of other Blue Mayhem pics but they were all a few weeks after dyeing, poorly taken care of, and faded as hell. Fortunately for me I have exceedingly porous hair and know how to keep highly unusual colours in as long as possible.
Here are a few more shots of Blue Mayhem, taken from http://www.beeunique.co.uk/bluepage1.htm. There's a girl on page five 'round about the middle that reminds me of when I went purple/blue back when Miss Chickie was in Kindergarten. Happy hunting. ;-)
And a few Blue Haired Freak. See how similar they are to the Mayhems? What a pain in my ass!
And finally, here's the greatest idea in all of known history. Mayhem and Freak. Mixed together. Pure Genius. Because WHY THE FUCK NOT???
Oh honey, you're gonna be so sorry you signed on for the hair dyeing game. Really, I'm extending my deepest of condolences. Because ow not only are you going to be subjected to my obsessive chatter, but you get small-novella length emails which require extensive replies. Oh yeah, did I mention the extensive reply?
Lovelovelove.
19 June 2007
Big fat Thumbs Down. (Booooo!)
It makes me so sad that my parents watch Fox News.
It makes me even sadder at how weirdly defensive they get when I say anything to the contrary about Fox News or anything its currently broadcasting.
But Fox News makes me giggle sometimes, too.
Like today, as I'm getting another hole chewed in my ass for using "The Boogieman Theory" to explain to my daughter why she is expressly forbidden to watch Fox News, I look up at the tv. I'm not saying that Fox News shouldn't broadcast the video of an alleged "Taliban Graduation". All I'm saying is that perhaps the following caption was a little bit unnecessary:
"Are 300 new terrorists on there way here right now???"
I mean, seriously. Come on.
Interestingly enough Foxnews.com isn't as quick to update as some other major news sites. I was able to find the video on several other sites, but not trusty 'ol Fox News.
Be good, kids. More later.
I'd better turn off the laptop before someone comes running in here to make me, in an effort to prevent it from getting hit with a power spike. Unplugged. What, you unplugged it?? Why?? Isn't that going to break it?? You can't use a laptop while its unplugged! You could permanently wear down the battery!!!
God I love visiting my family.
Did i mention my sister is on her way here?
It makes me even sadder at how weirdly defensive they get when I say anything to the contrary about Fox News or anything its currently broadcasting.
But Fox News makes me giggle sometimes, too.
Like today, as I'm getting another hole chewed in my ass for using "The Boogieman Theory" to explain to my daughter why she is expressly forbidden to watch Fox News, I look up at the tv. I'm not saying that Fox News shouldn't broadcast the video of an alleged "Taliban Graduation". All I'm saying is that perhaps the following caption was a little bit unnecessary:
"Are 300 new terrorists on there way here right now???"
I mean, seriously. Come on.
Interestingly enough Foxnews.com isn't as quick to update as some other major news sites. I was able to find the video on several other sites, but not trusty 'ol Fox News.
Be good, kids. More later.
I'd better turn off the laptop before someone comes running in here to make me, in an effort to prevent it from getting hit with a power spike. Unplugged. What, you unplugged it?? Why?? Isn't that going to break it?? You can't use a laptop while its unplugged! You could permanently wear down the battery!!!
God I love visiting my family.
Did i mention my sister is on her way here?
18 June 2007
Today I have decided to hate..
..people who use Halloween as an excuse to wear something extremely slutty. Because, really?!?! Halloween is fun, not magical. It doesn't make you suddenly slender, or attractive. It just makes you a sleazy fat cow in ill-fitting spandex. Gross. Maybe in response I should paint my face green this year and wander about all half-cocked clutching a soggy airsick bag full of Spaghetti-o's.
I've also decided that I should throw a wicked Halloween party this year. Whether its for Miss Chickie and her friends, or if its a grownups thing, it's definitely Costumes Only.
And while we're at it.. I think I've settled on dressing as a mummy. The idea of painstakingly wrapping myself on fourteen thousand yards of gauze is just so appealing!!!! And besides, the airsick thing would be a pain in the ass to explain.
Play nice for now. I've spent the last six hours snoozing in front of webcast Passions reruns and stuffing my face with Boar's Head. Now its time for the Mad Decoupage Hunt to begin.....!
I've also decided that I should throw a wicked Halloween party this year. Whether its for Miss Chickie and her friends, or if its a grownups thing, it's definitely Costumes Only.
And while we're at it.. I think I've settled on dressing as a mummy. The idea of painstakingly wrapping myself on fourteen thousand yards of gauze is just so appealing!!!! And besides, the airsick thing would be a pain in the ass to explain.
Play nice for now. I've spent the last six hours snoozing in front of webcast Passions reruns and stuffing my face with Boar's Head. Now its time for the Mad Decoupage Hunt to begin.....!
15 June 2007
My Mojo
...is back!
I've found a monkeybarrel full of wonderful things.
Short term:
Long term:
Theoretical:
Life is golden, kiddies. Make things. Beautiful things.
I've found a monkeybarrel full of wonderful things.
Short term:
- A fistful of art supply catalogues to fuel my oil paint experiment.
- A horizontal bead weaving technique to glam up my extensive collection of empty bottles.
- A big dusty bag of drywall compound for the decorative destruction of several surfaces.
Long term:
- Etsy, for selling (and buying) excellent handmade things.
- Lulu, for eventually publishing my book(s).
- Blogger, for ranting and raving.
Theoretical:
- Impending motivation for beading jewelry and crochet.
- Reduced stress level which bring about the peace of mind necessary to accomplish creative ventures.
- Renewed obsession with my decoupage-over-drywall concept.
- Things to say, and apparently the motivation to say them.
Life is golden, kiddies. Make things. Beautiful things.
12 June 2007
In the absence of common sense..
Seriously, my iPod will do just about everything but shine my shoes.
But it won't save the shuffle order as a playlist.
Or let me save songs as they're playing.
Because, really, who would ever want to save a particularly great shuffle mix?
Or be able to swiftly add something that pricks their ears to a list,
instead of shoveling through the Music->Artist->Album->Track gamut?
I mean, we all love fender benders, right?
But it won't save the shuffle order as a playlist.
Or let me save songs as they're playing.
Because, really, who would ever want to save a particularly great shuffle mix?
Or be able to swiftly add something that pricks their ears to a list,
instead of shoveling through the Music->Artist->Album->Track gamut?
I mean, we all love fender benders, right?
05 June 2007
Crickets
I don't know what the fuck is the matter with me.
I feel horrible. Nauseous. Weird. Crawling out of my skin.
Definitively out of sorts.
I've been plowing through google search after google search, in hopes of finding another blog site. Why? Because I like to leave google logged onto my business moniker, so I have quick access to my calendar and such. In order to use this one, I have to log out, and into another google account. Pain in my ass. But I flushed about an hour and a half straight down the toilet trying to find another, unsuccessfully. So whatever. The crickets out here are driving me insane and I can't get comfortable in this chair. I'm going inside.
Okay. Inside.
All comfy and situated properly at the table and I even crawled under to find the strip and plug in. But I still can't shake this awful out-of-sorts feeling of impending doom. Its cold in here.. that artificial crispness of air conditioning. Maybe its not cold, just artificial. Yeah. (I can still hear the damn crickets!)
I'm sketchy. Hyper and antsy and completely exhausted, all at the same time. Unsettled. Off kilter. Something, but I can't quite place my finger on it. On the surface all is well. Eric is sleeping soundly, a byproduct of last night's 'no sleep giggle and kiss'. Little Miss Munchkin is creeping off to bed. The dog was walked and the lizards were fed and darkened before we headed over here. In my speedy carelessness I oversalted the sauce, but that can't account for this something-something I can't break free from.
I'm bordering on tears. My hands are shaking. I can't decide if I'm excited, or terrified, or unbelievably sad. Maybe its all three? Clearly I'm in no position to make that determination. I wish Eric was feeling better. I want so badly to wake him up, for him to hold me and kiss me, to cry or to talk about everything or nothing at all. To play cards and whistle Dixie. Something.
I could run through a laundry list of complaints, trying to find a source for this blechy unexplainable feeling, and come up with nothing. Its all the same. Nothing today is different. Money is a giant throbbing vein begging to burst and send a soul-liberating aneurysm screaming for my hungrily waiting cerebral cortex. I should be so lucky. There's more money due than is coming in, and I'm at that terrifying point where I'm convinced something very bad is going to happen... but that's standard fare. Nothing new. Either something will be taken away or the money will miraculously come pouring in and I'll slip through another catastrophe by the skin of my teeth and plunge headlong into the next one. I spoke with Christopher this evening about the Swish account login and was immediately incited into yet another white-hot rage, but again, this is standard fare. Even the most simple of communications between us degrade to base arguments, but its been like that for a long while now. My last nerve wore thin with him so long ago I can't even remember. Tragedy still, it all fell apart so quickly and violently in the end, but sometimes tragedy can birth the most lovely of new beginnings, and that seems to be the way things happened. Lucky me that I never had time to mourn it really, I grieve hard and long, and nothing but the purest of self-destruction ever comes of it. Work is fine, slow but fine, and there's nothing new there either. Told you. Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe I'm just finally losing my mind. Maybe I cracked under the pressure of everything and I never even noticed, and this is simply the aftereffects of an irrevocable fissure in my already fragile little spirit.
All this fuss over nothing. Turns out I've got nothing to say after all. Big fat surprise.
All that searching and failing in new findings, all that hustle and bustle and this burning need to say something, say everything, and I've come up dry again. No commentary on the world at large. No insights or wisdom. Just the same old ranting and raving and babbling on about things of utter unimportance. Again.
Nothing to say. Nothing to do.
The TV is stashed away in there, in the Land of my Sleeping Loves. It would be a crime against all that is peaceful and restful to barge in there and shatter the smooth silence their mutual rest has cocooned with harsh and brazen bluish lights and canned laughter. No musings online. No interests to explore. No way I'm picking up the bass and fumbling around pretending to wrench beauty out of something I've made alien in my own internal exile. Work to do, of course, but the tracking numbers I need to complete anything of value are dwnstairs in the parking lot, which might as well be in Bolivia, for all the motivation I'm mustering. Not happening.
Just me and the crickets, and I smoked the last cigarette before I started in on this diatribe of nothing in particular. I'd sleep, but I'm not even going to pretend I'd have any success at that.
I feel horrible. Nauseous. Weird. Crawling out of my skin.
Definitively out of sorts.
I've been plowing through google search after google search, in hopes of finding another blog site. Why? Because I like to leave google logged onto my business moniker, so I have quick access to my calendar and such. In order to use this one, I have to log out, and into another google account. Pain in my ass. But I flushed about an hour and a half straight down the toilet trying to find another, unsuccessfully. So whatever. The crickets out here are driving me insane and I can't get comfortable in this chair. I'm going inside.
Okay. Inside.
All comfy and situated properly at the table and I even crawled under to find the strip and plug in. But I still can't shake this awful out-of-sorts feeling of impending doom. Its cold in here.. that artificial crispness of air conditioning. Maybe its not cold, just artificial. Yeah. (I can still hear the damn crickets!)
I'm sketchy. Hyper and antsy and completely exhausted, all at the same time. Unsettled. Off kilter. Something, but I can't quite place my finger on it. On the surface all is well. Eric is sleeping soundly, a byproduct of last night's 'no sleep giggle and kiss'. Little Miss Munchkin is creeping off to bed. The dog was walked and the lizards were fed and darkened before we headed over here. In my speedy carelessness I oversalted the sauce, but that can't account for this something-something I can't break free from.
I'm bordering on tears. My hands are shaking. I can't decide if I'm excited, or terrified, or unbelievably sad. Maybe its all three? Clearly I'm in no position to make that determination. I wish Eric was feeling better. I want so badly to wake him up, for him to hold me and kiss me, to cry or to talk about everything or nothing at all. To play cards and whistle Dixie. Something.
I could run through a laundry list of complaints, trying to find a source for this blechy unexplainable feeling, and come up with nothing. Its all the same. Nothing today is different. Money is a giant throbbing vein begging to burst and send a soul-liberating aneurysm screaming for my hungrily waiting cerebral cortex. I should be so lucky. There's more money due than is coming in, and I'm at that terrifying point where I'm convinced something very bad is going to happen... but that's standard fare. Nothing new. Either something will be taken away or the money will miraculously come pouring in and I'll slip through another catastrophe by the skin of my teeth and plunge headlong into the next one. I spoke with Christopher this evening about the Swish account login and was immediately incited into yet another white-hot rage, but again, this is standard fare. Even the most simple of communications between us degrade to base arguments, but its been like that for a long while now. My last nerve wore thin with him so long ago I can't even remember. Tragedy still, it all fell apart so quickly and violently in the end, but sometimes tragedy can birth the most lovely of new beginnings, and that seems to be the way things happened. Lucky me that I never had time to mourn it really, I grieve hard and long, and nothing but the purest of self-destruction ever comes of it. Work is fine, slow but fine, and there's nothing new there either. Told you. Nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe I'm just finally losing my mind. Maybe I cracked under the pressure of everything and I never even noticed, and this is simply the aftereffects of an irrevocable fissure in my already fragile little spirit.
All this fuss over nothing. Turns out I've got nothing to say after all. Big fat surprise.
All that searching and failing in new findings, all that hustle and bustle and this burning need to say something, say everything, and I've come up dry again. No commentary on the world at large. No insights or wisdom. Just the same old ranting and raving and babbling on about things of utter unimportance. Again.
Nothing to say. Nothing to do.
The TV is stashed away in there, in the Land of my Sleeping Loves. It would be a crime against all that is peaceful and restful to barge in there and shatter the smooth silence their mutual rest has cocooned with harsh and brazen bluish lights and canned laughter. No musings online. No interests to explore. No way I'm picking up the bass and fumbling around pretending to wrench beauty out of something I've made alien in my own internal exile. Work to do, of course, but the tracking numbers I need to complete anything of value are dwnstairs in the parking lot, which might as well be in Bolivia, for all the motivation I'm mustering. Not happening.
Just me and the crickets, and I smoked the last cigarette before I started in on this diatribe of nothing in particular. I'd sleep, but I'm not even going to pretend I'd have any success at that.
04 May 2007
Signs, signs.
03 May 2007
Curses! Foiled again.
I've officially emptied the DVR of anything even remotely watchable. There's about four episodes of Human Giant, but i don't have the patience for something all shiny and new, and about six episodes of Thank God You're Here, but I don't have the stomach for improv at this hour. I've seen more King of the Hill than anyone should watch in a single day. I've got about four or five more episodes left, but I think any more might be permanently damaging to my psyche. Finishing every sentence with "I tell ya whut" might be funny, but I'm running the risk of getting punched in the face if I pair it with a constant overpronunciation of the letter W. My luck I'd just wake up a rambling mumble-freak like Boomhauer. Either way its probably not a good idea.
This is the inherent difficulty in sleeplessness. I can't get anything done. I've tried.... oh!, how I've tried. I've been back here in the office about seven times since ten, each with the best of intentions. I simply don't have the attention span at this hour. I tried to do paperwork. I tried to file. I even tried to reorganize the closet. Okay, well, I didn't really try to reorganize the closet. But I thought about it. Twice. That's got to count for something.
Its limbo, in its saddest, greasiest, tv obsessive form. I can watch any bad sitcom you throw at me. I'll watch it so hard! Ha. Anyway. I won't even watch a movie, under the misguided impression and/or hope that I really won't still be awake in two hours. I just can't muster up the focus to take these endless nighttime hours and put them to good use. Fortunately for me, every crap comedy sitcom ever made in the mid-90s is available in triplicate during the afternoon, thanks to the magic of syndication. Pair it with my DVR and I've got a whole night's worth of half-chuckles.
I started on the dishes, but only got as far as rinsing off a few things in the sink and turning on the plate warmer in the dishwasher to avoid having to hand-dry anything. My attention span ran out right around there. I though about vacuuming, and then convinced myself that vacuuming at this hour would be rude, and that I don't want to wake anyone. That's a lie. Of course I don't care about waking anyone. I'm almost positive it wouldn't disturb anyone in the first place. Well maybe the dog, but really, is it my fault she's afraid of the vacuum? No, I didn't think so.
Right about then I hatched my brainchild. Sending Eric weird picture messages is fun, but honestly how many messages can I expect him to wake up to? Enter the mobile blog. I've had this thing for years and it never really gets use. I putz around here and there, and inevitably purge it all when I come up unsatisfied. So why not plaster stupid pictures all over the internet whenever the mood strikes me? Further, who says it has to be in these weird restless pajama clad hours? I'm stuck in a car all day long with nothing to do but swear at the idiots in front of me. This could be great. Key word, could. Sprint's MMS server is down for maintenance. I can't send my initial message.
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