Or mis- something. But I'm sure they'll find their way back to the proper orbits and paths and stuff. Someday. Not today, though. Everything is upside down in that empty sorta way. I feel like my fingers are losing their grasp on... every thing.
Taken at the bar tonight, where there was: great food great music great company. There was also a prime example of a Butter Face, in a very Adam & Eve -esque leaf bikini. And a girl in a Girl Scout slut-iform. I was a Bad Fairy... but only as an excuse to wear that dress. I will tell you a secret, though. When I strapped on the gorgeous wings and stood in front of the mirror... I felt like I could fly. Not surprising...given my penchant for writing about wings. I'm just glad I didn't get drunk enough to try it (or slipped some LSD). My shoes were just uncomfortable enough that I would have attempted flight without much chemical assistance. But... I looked pretty damn hot.
Ok, that is all. Time to go bake wonderful things for the party we're going to this afternoon.
sorry, now I'm distracted, thinking of different ways I could turn that into "turning tricks". Treat. Trick or treat... Ok. So today is Friday, and I'm feeling... well-fucked, for starters. That's what's cool about Mr. husband and his returns from out-of-town-ness. 'nough said.
I really would love to know what a good psychoanalyst would have to say about me after spending some time in my archives... I'm sure ADD would be at the top of the list, followed closely by narcissism, with a possible side of bi-polar-bear. But whatever-- Crazy is as crazy does, man. I'm the good kind of crazy, anyway. We've already discussed that.
I have stuff to do, but I'm feeling far less frantic than I have been since school started.
Tonight I'm having Scary Movie Night. It's a tradition that my brothers and my husband and I started a few years ago. They don't bring their wives because neither of them enjoys the thrill of walking to the bathroom in the night after watching stuff like that. Fair enough. The first year we did it, we went to the theatre to see the Blair Witch Project. It didn't really scare any of us too much, and there was some IDIOT-mother-fucking guy with a BABY-- like, a one year old, and it kept crying. There is a line in the movie where one of the kids says, "Is that a baby crying?" and the real baby had just been crying... it cracked me up. And inspired me to yell, "Take the baby out!!!" Which drew enthusiastic support from the rest of the audience. Heh. I'm usually very non-confrontational, but I figured he wouldn't know who said it, and I was so sick of hearing it that I was about to go take the kid to the lobby myself. What the FUCK is up with people taking babies to movies in Utah??? Do people even do that in other places?? Especially annoying when it's a movie like that. But really, any movie is a bad environment for a baby because it's so loud. I hate the population of this state with more passion than I love lobster, the ocean, orgasms, and Pearl Jam--PUT TOGETHER. Yup. It's true. Fuckers. Anyway.... tonight we're having Scary Movie Night at my house with the big ole screen, etc. We're all very excited. And this year my oldest niece (21) and her husband are joining us. She's so adorable. She called me last night to see if I had recorded The Office because they missed it last night and they've become addicted. I'm so proud! The best part of the deal is that I neglected to notice that the season had started, so I missed the first two episodes, and they have them on DVD. So we're going to have an after-party of The Office. ROCK.
...I'm sure you all find this fascinating. Hey, I just remembered how bitchy I used to get on here... well, pretend bitchy. When I would accuse you guys of being perverts or tell you to fuck off. Boy oh boy, how I miss those days!
My thoughts fly My thoughts wander I am my thoughts, And they are me. I feel such peace right now… Inexplicably. I am myself, I am no one. I see a face in the mirror that I simultaneously recognize and am startled by. She is me, but she is… A patchwork quilt of my thoughts. …remember? “I am my thoughts and they are me” I am never alone. I am greedy. I am… Never satisfied and never distraught. My sweet tooth disappeared, And I am left with you in its place. I don’t even know what to do with you— Dessert is to eat, but what are YOU for? Oh, I’ll think of something… I always do. You are for holding hands with in a warm snow, Or kissing in a cool rain. You are of precipitation, For you burst from clouds and soak into the rich earth as it crumbles around my roots. You whisper up through me, like photosynthesis and shimmer across my leaves, Like dew drops.
I once knew a man who was mostly a boy. And he had a quiet soul, a solid center. He was not broken, he was not undone. This. This was what made him a man. I remember him well, even though it was so long ago. I wonder where he is now, with eyes of melted chocolate. I wonder if his dreams came true. I wonder if he ever fell in love, Or if he still smiles like that when a woman is riding him, moaning. I remember how it felt to not let go, to not allow myself. I remember that he was a charmer who couldn’t charm me. Looking back, those days have a silver hue, like a black-and-white film. They were surreal even then, but now…they seem never to have existed. I wonder if…I wonder if. It is time. Time to start the book. Nothing else really matters, or should. People matter. But that’s different.
Big Halloween weekend coming up. Parties and candy and costumes and— Scary movies! Which is a really wise decision for someone who spends at least half of her nights alone. ????? Stooopid girl. I don’t do well with scary movies and being alone. Astronomy homework due tomorrow…good thing I started it tonight with the intention of getting a head start—and I considered skipping class tomorrow! What the hell is up with me and my lack of focus??? I. Suck. Truly, I do. And just because I’m good at it doesn’t make it ok!
Have a happy…uh….what day will it be tomorrow? Thursday. And give out a couple of random compliments.
at noon, on Tuesday. But, sadly, I am not in a bar that faces a giant carwash. Nor am I having a torrid affair with a cancer surviving cycling phenom. But I have goals! The first one on my list is to be drunk and sober again in under 2 hours. ...what do you think? I'll let you know how THAT turns out. After I write, I will take off my pants and go sit in bed with my laptop and the remainder of that Bukowski documentary thingy I stumbled upon last night. I was supposed to be studying for my English mid-term. But... I'm thinking the Viet-Celtic god himself was sending me a message. Either that or I was procrastinating and would have watched ANYTHING. But...with four thousand, eight hundred and TWELVE goddamned channels I don't usually have to "settle". What's funny about me and Bukowski is that we have the same nose. No. What's funny is that I've never read any of his work. But all the cool kids seem to dig him. And did you know that there is a marked difference between Twisted Tea from Utah and Twisted Tea from Montana? I had nooooooooooo idea. Yum. and...the room is already spinning a little. Fuck yes. Why am I drinking away my cares, at noon(ish) on a Tuesday in October? Becuuuuuzzzzzzzz......... I fucking hate my life right now. It is perfect and beautiful in every way, and I abhor it. I want to grab the fabric of this mantle that comprises my daily life and rip it into shredded punk-rocker glory. I want to tie dye it. I want to fucking BE-DAZZLE it!!!!! Ok, not really...ew... ok, that deserves a hper link, hold on. Drunk girl's on the job! Wow...and we're in luck...there's a video infomercial of Tanna from the Apprentice... I was mesmerized for a minute there... Must... Have... be-dazzler....
Ok. So...where the FUCK was I??? whatever. I think I was trying to explain that I am sick of being overextended and that all I want is an afternoon in bed with Bukowski and brewskis. And... I got a new toy which may have to make a cameo. Damn that thing is amazing. I haven't tried it yet, but it FEELS so real! Cyberskin has always been my favorite. Fuck. Now I'm horny for a piece of manufactured ass. That's a little bit twisted. Like my tea.
What I find myself wishing, though, is that I had friends who were close enough in proximity and unemployed so they could come and keep me company. I want my kids' friend to invite them over... for the next week and a half! Woooo....my head is spinning. Maybe I'll take a bath. Or a whole bottle of sleeping pills. Ha. Gotcha. My mid-term went ok. I have an independent study class that I keep failing to DO. Oh well. This grasshopper needs a wake-up call, I guess. ...hello? yes, I'm awake.
fuck you. and me. together. I want to be...young on the outside again. I am still young on the inside, but I want that carefree perfection back again. oops, too late--it's all used up. fuckity fuck fuck. I will go and burrow with bukowski before it is too late. And by "too" I mean three. o'clock...cuz the kids will be home. Where's Becky when I need her? She would be drunk with me at 1:14pm...
I. Love. ...and that is a problem, surprisingly enough. You. Are silly and sweet and I want to lick you from head to toe.
The little story I wrote the other day. Not so much a Fantasy as a fantasy... (in other words: no sex, just yearning)
I noticed him as soon as I walked in. ...noticed him in one of those gentle ways that is almost not noticing until viewed through retrospect. Taking in the whole room with a smooth, circular glance, he was there. He was seated on a bar stool, facing out toward the room, hunched a bit, making his lankiness fade out of view. A closer look sent a ripple through me--beautiful eyes, a smile to work for. As a disjointed part of some other conversation, his possession of a Harley floated toward me, outlined thinly in neon lights, not flashing, as competition for the signs on the wall, but glowing as if they were words sent on the tip of a sword to press with slight menace into my breast bone.
The Harley. My ears, my eyes--my heartbeats--poised for the turn the dialog would take. Yes. Go get it. Yes. We want to seeeee....it. The purring began just under my ribs, a precursor to the roughly rumbling engine which would soon grow louder and stop just outside the door. The machine. The man... The machine! Stunning. Like a thief prying into my lungs, robbing me of breath. I needed it. The beautiful eyes agreed to a ride and talked softly to me the whole way. A talker! With a neck smelling of the way things used to be, the way things ought to be, the way things...are. The way things are in the cool night air, the way my teeth knew they would find his skin-- his smooth, taut skin, so soft over such sharpness of bone and muscle; impossible. His neck, smooth next to my nose as I bend to let my eyes rest from the wind. The rumble below, the sheets of wind parting before us, cutting around us. Pockets of cold air bringing laughter and the tightening of my thighs on his. Bumps in the road bringing the tightening of my arms around his chest, of my thighs on his. Lurching forward from a stop, I constrict around him again, worried that my desire was palpable, and would tumble off me and cause the bike to skid, flip, send flying. The night opened out before us, like every dream I've never been able to fill with the right sensations-- wind, engine, warm bodies, laughter, shared exhilaration. Each still shot making up the movie of that ride was worth its 1000 words, and now I'm drowning in untyped letters, unmoaned urges, untold tales.
Yesterday's hike was lovely. Couldn't have been better. Well... There were 6 perfect places to make love-not-war. I counted. There was the giant, mossy rock jutting out over the small-but-powerful river. And the leaf-covered clearing, surrounded tightly by slender trees. There was the fallen tree, a log at just the right height for me to bend over. Yup, just like that. There was one spot which would have been perfect for delicate, soft, sweet kinds of touching and tasting and licking and sucking. But alas, none was to be had. ...I won't tell them all, because you should discover them for yourself. An invigorating hike and relaxing soak, bouyed by great conversation was a pretty damn good substitute, though. And nothing compares to the food consumed after a day of exercise and fresh air. Nothing. Well, except maybe a backrub and a blowjob. heh. (nope, none of THAT to be had, either, darnit.)
Ok, that's enough for a Monday. I have articles to write and doctors to visit and showers to take. (well, only the first noun should be plural, but I was on a roll!) Happy day, kids!
Time for me to sneak away in the night like a-- like a... like a person who wants to be a hermit all of a sudden and for just a few days. I want to quit school quit the paper quit blogging quit socializing quit typing. That oughta do it. Then I'd have more time to: rock ...and roll...around... or at least more time to work out and read books. But no, I have no desire to quit blogging right now. I've taken the space necessary in this department. I just don't want to do anything else anymore. Today.... I will hike my FAVORITE hike, with some of my FAVORITE people. And I should be getting ready right now... I should be showered and dressed and backpack packed and scurrying around the crowded aisles of a grocery store right now-- gotta leave the family with provisions, dontcha know. Raspberry ice tea, of the 5% alcohol-ic variety. And water. And towels. And. I love my Diamond Fork hot springs with a passion equal to the nuclear fusion happening inside the core of the sun. Dude. You have NO idea how much heat is generated by hydrogen atoms fusing into helium atoms. Seriously. It's intense. Oooo....let me find the essay I wrote about my hot springs.... hold on.... That was quick. Voila---
Making the acquaintance of the Diamond Fork hot springs was the first step I took down the path of accepting Utah as a place worthy of the name “home.” It has taken many years to completely push out the hate I once held with determined fingers, but I have, and Diamond Fork continues to be top on my list of what feels like home about Utah. My first visit was nearly ten years ago, as an adventure-thirsty twenty year old. We drove too fast over bumpy dirt roads through the warm night of early fall—windows down, music up. We had one flashlight with us, batteries weak, beam short. We drowned the darkness instead with laughter and the crunching of gravel under eager feet. The leader of our expedition, my best friend and adventure guru to this day, had done the hike only one other time, and in the murky night air she led us past the turnoff. We went up instead of down, and a two mile hike turned into ten, but somehow this made the destination even more satisfying. Ragged and dusty, we sank into the steaming water and felt the quiet, glittery thrill of finding a treasure buried in the mountains. The invigorating hike is as restorative as the water itself, and provides additional motivation for my frequent visits. Walking the narrow path, I relish the sounds of the forest—it feels like home, like Maine. Leaves brush across each other, high overhead and give me the sense of being held close by strong arms. Velvety moss creeping across tree roots, ferns uncurling against the shade of a tall trunk, and pine needles slippery under foot work in concert to drag my conscious mind to the conclusion that I am home. Just as I lose myself in this reverie, the sulfur from the springs hits me—my mouth before my nose (possibly because I’m a Neanderthalic mouth-breather) and the taste makes me inhale deeply—which I immediately regret. This, in turn, makes me smile because it means I’m almost there. Almost time to sink, once again, into the soft, thick water, to lean back and close my eyes as the water bubbles and sighs around me. I remember, then, my first visit. I remember that the comfortable, entirely unabashed nudity of middle-aged men made us giggle. And that the overall mood of acceptance and camaraderie flooded us with hope and joy. It was a fully refreshing encounter for two Mainers, lost in the homogeny of Happy Valley. And that is what it has remained, for me: a place to recharge, a place to reflect, and mostly, a place to escape an unfamiliar culture.
I am ecstatic. I am filled with cookies and milk. I am ready.
Last night I saw the coolest play. A one man show, performed by the writer; autobiographical. This man... was so beautiful that I don't even know what he said for the first half of the show. Mesmerizing. Dazzling. I'm going in tomorrow to get a sex change, just so that I might have the slightest chance of making sweet, sweet love to him. He's gay, in case you didn't pick that up. heh. And I was one of 5 women in the audience.... I am supposed to get an interview with him, but I'm pretty sure I would just sit and stare at him silently for about ten minutes, and then say, "Thank you for your time. That was fascinating." and walk into a glass door on my way out. He's also funny and can sing, and did I mention the BODY??? Holy. FUCK.
Ahem. So anyway... I'll get over it soon, I'm sure. But for now, it's show tunes and testosterone pills!
Have a happy Sabbath day, and dont' forget to flip off organized religion--
I have been meaning to mention something— Justin’s second chap book is out! He is Becky’s husband, and a fine fellow. I encourage you all to go check out his poetry, And buy a copy Or 3. Support local talent! …what? We’re all local because of this internet contraption, so shut it. Just go read. You’ll thank me.
I have a fantasy to post, but I think I’ll wait until Monday. Why? Because I’m a BETCH like that.
I have taken to poetic ramblings during English class as a habit now… Here’s yesterday’s product:
When I see you my eyes don’t merely brush across the surface and churn out a harsh rating. Instead they wend through the layers of you, sifting and searching. I see so much at just a glance and pause to soak you in. Sometimes my eyes burn through you leaving wide trails of blackening embers, the smoke an emblem of ardor. Sometimes my eyes spill rivers over you, cleansing all that has come before.
There are no more reasons and the rhyme is empty.
The point is, I plan on having a great Grand Wonderful Day. And I hope like hell that you do, too.
Haircut, newspaper meetings. A perfect ending for a week of recharging. This weekend: study for English Mid-Term, write scripts, hike. Today is a perfect day for the hot springs in Diamond Fork… I have to get there before the snow. Well, technically, no I don’t. But I would prefer to. Whatever. Happy weekend, dears! (and deers—even though that’s the incorrect plural form of that word…)
That's right, I'm on the YouTube bandwagon, and I coudln't be happier. We're excited about this union, YouTube and I. Mostly, this video makes me giggle. I may never watch another video on that site, but this is pure bliss.
...oh. It's not Friday, is it? Well it feels like Friday to me!! The sun is shining, the husband is STILL home, and I have a whole day to fill however I want. And I'm working hard to forget the Ultimate Food Fight Extravaganza that was rained down upon my backyard last night. Either that or my kids were prepping for teenagerhood... 18 cans of soda. 18 eggs (hey, I see a trend!) and a giant clump of shredded cheese... Lucky for me, Mr. husband was the one who discovered it-- and they will not soon forget the aftermath. Dads are big. Dads are loud. Dads are NOT kidding around. He made them clean it all up and then go to bed. At 6:30. I was sort of giggling in the background the whole time... "It's not funny!" I know, honey...but kinda...
Here's something I wrote in a notebook somewhere, once upon a time:
In the darkness you settle over me. The thoughts of you are heavy, thick, but light as silk and soft as down. Smooth, but real, with sharp edges in clear focus. You separate me from my world, like a force field, shimmering around me, holding me close. I want you to sink into me, to be absorbed by me, to be the part of me that I am missing. I want to feel your heart beating inside my chest and hear your thoughts echoing down the ancient hallways of my mind. You are with me, unbidden. You are of me, uncreated. You are near me, undetected. You fill me, unsparingly.
Well, if it can't be Friday at least make it a good hump day. and on Friday I'm getting my hair cut by the magical Mr. S.
Not only the page, but the tumor-esque occurences of my brain. Well....only the vertigo is better. I don't know about the rest of my symptoms.
Today is a grey and cold day. For an era so concerned with global warming, we seem to be having some cold-mother-fucking winters. That's all I have to say about that. Oh, and...hooray for ski season.
I wrote the coolest thing during the boring part of my English class today. Oh, that's right-- EVERY part is boring. I'll probably post it later. And I don't know what I'm doing BLOGGING when I have 13.4 billion things to do. I pretty much just want to crawl into my bed and stay there until... spring or so. But at least I had a good enough workout yesterday that I have sore muscles today.
...but I don't know for sure. I have been experiencing vertigo all weekend, and when I went to WebMD and checked the causes of vertigo, one of them was "brain tumor". And wouldn't that just figure?? I've been blaming a brain tumor for all my spaciness over the past year and I really think I've talked myself into having one. So I'll keep ya posted. Actually, the vertigo seems to have passed (after 48 hours), and my husband just suggested that maybe his full-body scratching released my toxins, in much the same manner that a deep massage does. We'll go with that for now. I'm not entirely convinced the vertigo won't be back today, but as I said, we'll see. And the scratching was divine. We spent the weekend wrapped in bliss, repairing the ragged edges of too much travel and ebbing degrees of trust. Not to rub it in, but I'm pretty sure I have the best husband on the planet. Top 500 at least. (what?? There are BILLIONS of people on the earth; I think top 500 is pretty amazing)
We are going to make breakfast, then go do some unpleasant errands and hit the gym before returning home to our respective offices to get shit done. So far, he's not travelling this week. And maybe I can continue to feel more and more competent in my school/work life, instead of constantly feeling like I'm drowning and failing and letting people down. Ack. No wonder I've been so stressed lately.
One month until Disney World.
Here's a little blip that came to me this morning, prompting me to open my laptop and write it, which parlayed into blogging.
“It was a big man. A big, white man.” Fire leapt to his eyes, and it seemed as though smoke should have puffed from his nostrils. A snarl perched ready at the top of his throat, pushed out of him by a softly shouted, “Who?” This word was repeated, like a thousand copies of the same book, stacked carefully higher and higher. “Who?” Each time it was spoken, it rose in volume, coming faster and faster until it reached a crescendo and tumbled down in a cascade of sobs, melting into her hair as he held her close. “I didn’t save you. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t stop him.” Each sentence held the echo of a courtroom. Her heart broke all over again feeling the weight of her brother's reaction and she wished she hadn't told him. She knew he would find the man. She knew their meeting would be loud and sharp and breaking. She knew it wasn't her fault, but she still felt him slipping fast through her grasp on him. She knew the big man had destroyed the tranquility of her life, and would puncture the bubble of safety that her brother had worked so hard to build around her. She knew these things, without knowing the words. She closed herself up and watched his broad shoulders recede.
Happy Monday, dears. Sorry for the downer, but it felt good to write it.
My favorite day of the year! 13 is my lucky number... You are my lucky number. ...am I yours?
I want to write about superstition and stars and light and rivers and-- I can't right now. The boys' friend called and I GET to take them to his house to play! I will greedily and gratefully use that time to go to the gym-- even though I had talked them into going with me today. It's still easier to go without them. Or maybe I'll go twice lord knows I could use it. I am getting fatter every second. Yes, I'm still one sexy mama. But fer chrisssakes.
Tonight, dinner at the most-revered fondu place with a couple we haven't seen in forever. Should be really nice. Just soft and warm and happy and nice. A perfect evening for a sunny, crisp fall day!
And tomorrow evening, a casual hang-out at a friend's place, and Sunday (hopefully) a drive through the mountains. Best of all... hubby is on his way home right now from Kansas-stupid-City and he might not be flying ANYWHERE next week!!!!!!! Awesome.
Have a happy and non-superstitious day. love and hugs to you all--
Something about feeling ragged and sectioned off, inside. I don't remember, but that's pretty close to how I feel. Too many different parts of me doing too many different things. I'm slipping away. I'm going to disintegrate and all my pieces will flutter away on the wind. I don't mean to sound as though something new is happening. It's just the progression of my soul's growth. It isn't growing in a linear fashion. It's growing...like a tree, reaching, spreading out in all different directions-- reaching for the sky, the clouds, the sun, the stars. I will sink my roots in as deeply as I can, but it's hard to divert energy from the upward growth. I want to have strong enough branches for a tire swing, and big enough leaves to offer shade to a flock of dreamers.
I guess I need to slow down. Stop trying so hard to break my own heart.
I feel like I have figured out the answers but they're in another language.
but it sort of feels like I'm still gone. Montana is still under my skin-- or under my fingernails, at least. Brushing horses, falling in love with baby pigs, nearly hitting 17 different species from moose to elk to fox to human... sitting in two different hot springs-- one natural and surrounded by great, jutting mountains just as the sun broke through, after an afternoon of hiking in the rain, and the other indoors, after a day of horses, and the second night of giant perfect juicy orgasm-defying burgers. And there were cowboys everywhere. I don't particularly like cowboys, but there's something sexy about men who work hard. There are too many things to fit onto a screen this size... maybe I should hook my computer up to the projector, eh? but, no... still not enough room; the bandwidth from my brain to the keyboard would not be enough. The sheets on our beds had seahorses on the border-- identical to my tattoo.
THIS IS THE EDGE OF THE SHEET, NOT MY BODY!!!! That was the promise of good things to come. And I will never stop loving every second I spend with J.O. in this upside down world. She is fascinating and familiar, at the same time. She is in love. Her horse is the most beautiful grey with black mane and tail... We went to the pasture where she is kept, and transported her to a different pasture, safer for hunting season. The other horses in the pasture surrounded us, sniffing our pockets, and loving my hair. They were crowding us and huffing at us and frankly it made me a little nervous. Horses are rather LARGE, in case you hadn't noticed. Heh. I loved every second of it, actually. Especially when that gorgeous bay gallopped out from a stand of trees and thundered up next to us. Every. Second. We drove home through Yellowstone, and there was snow. It snowed for most of the morning, even in town, but my car kicked that road's ass. That slippery slopey windy cliffy road. At least we didn't go off the road mere feet from a herd of lazy-looking buffalo like that big white and blue van. Poor kids. I got a picture of the buffalo, and I'll get the pictures on here soon, I promise. I have a couple from my phone, so they'll be appearing shortly. There was a bluegrass band at the bar at the hot springs at Chico. There was a cute old man who taught me how to play table shuffleboard there, too. And a whole lot of people with hairstyles from the late 80s, but hey, who am I to judge? It was just coooool to feel free of the rampant and rabid materialism of Utah. It was most delicious, actually. And that first night, the burgers and hand cut fries were so good that I almost decided to move to Livingston. Then it snowed and I remembered that everything is 30 miles from everything else and I said FUCK THAT. I can make my own damn burger. I wish I could find a way to convey the goodness and perfection and ....... of that burger. But, alas, it cannot be done. There was so much talking that I'm surprised my voice works, or my head. There was so much driving that my car will be as happy to be serviced on Wednesday as I am to be serviced tonight. Ha. I'm sooooooooooooooooooooooo funny. Mr. husband had a great time with the kiddos and will be happy to service me, should I happen to be able to stay awake long enough to participate.
I am glad to be home, but not glad to be off vacation. Ain't that just the way of it?? ...sorry for the "ain't"....I've been in cowboy country! Good night, sweethearts.
And this morning I was working on my compilation of stories and snippets from the blog, when I came across this post in which I wish to be doing the very thing that I am doing!!!! I was wishing to go to Montana... So, read it and weep. Or sleep. Or...beep. It was originally posted on bored housewife on June 21, 2005. And I skipped the first half of the post where I talk about the fact that I am drunk, and ask you all to vote on whether drunk posting is better or coffee-high posting.
have a great weekend, and I'll see you back here on Monday!
maybe I'm not meant to be "normal"!!!!!! huh? did you ever think of THAT, oh mr. wizard behind the curtain in the emerald city of OZ??? you fucking jackass prick son of a whore! I don't have to be a soccer mom. I don't have to cook dinner every night I don't have to love housewifery (which, despite phonetic similarities, is not related in any way to "animal husbandry"...ok, scratch phonetic similarities...more like general word similarities. it sounded uppity-er the first way, though.) I do still want to fly. I'm glad i can be bothered to use italics even when I'm floating in a sort of dizzy haze of happy fermented grapes smooshed up and processed in whatever-the-fuck way they are processed to turn into wine...... I want to be smooshed up and poured into a bottle... would you drink me? with a delicate pasta, and some insanely difficult to pronounce and/or prepare sauce? I used to dream of culinary arts institutionalization... or degree-ification. chef-dom? whatever. but, as with all my dreams, I soon woke up-- which I don't mean in the vernacular of "came to my senses." no. I mean, literally, REM faded, eyes stopped twitching, snoring abated, bladder cleared its throat impatiently-- awakening. of the every-morning variety. I want Julie. the other one. I want to hitchhike to Montana and show up on her doorstep. I want to drink coffee and be deep and serious-- for 5 minutes, at least. then, I want to laugh so loud so hysterically so guffaw-ically sooooooooooooooo.......... satisfactorily. and hear her latest tales of love-- for they really are. tales of love. every 6 monthes or so, she falls in love again. but she really does-- fully, and wildly and madly. I love her faith in new beginnings. she's the sister I met when I was 6. more like me than my real sister of the same name.
I wish... that I didn't forget to cry when I need to.
I will not be a meteor. I will not be afraid of failure or success or my own ever-widening shadow
I announced tonight that my 30th year will be the year of giving up-- as a way of new beginnings. I will give up on ever looking like a 19 year old again er. I guess the rest of the stuff I listed is either not pertinent or not for public knowledge.
it's 11:11...make a wish...
did you guys know that if you bite into a Life Savers brand Wint-O-Green mint, in the dark, there is actually a visible spark? it's true. it was my best pickup line of the 90s. I mostly used it on mormon missionaries (19-21 and CUTE--it was a pre-req, I swear) but it was hot. I was a true good girl back then... my wild side was more like a stripe-- a pin stripe-- at that point. ah well.
I should probably stop typing now. mostly because I'm still drunkish and I need to be getting to sleep soon.
have I told you lately, that I love you? probably not. cuz i'm all sorts of basket-case-ish lately. but I do. I feel (perhaps erroneously) that my readers are a reflection of me... so, since you guys are all fantastic in about 26 different ways, each-- thath makmes mee feel good. and what in hte name of CHRIST did I just do with the keyboard???? ...it wasn't typing that's for damn sure. well. have a great night. don't forget to floss.
Seriously. Who invented getting up early?? I think that stupid-ass saying about "early to bed, early to rise..." blah blah was actually referring to going to bed in the early morning and waking up in the early afternoon. That's my body's natural tendency, at least. But really, who cares? Even I don't actually care.
I don't have close today because it's Fall Break. So that's pretty damn cool. I'm going to go back to bed, read some of The Great Gatsby, and go have lunch with my favorite sister-in-law.
And I've just gotten severely distracted by working on The Bored Housewife Chronicles, so I will post this and check in later. happy thursday to you all!
It feels like the night is sleeping, too. And my busybusybusybusybusy life has caught its breath. I don't have anything to do until after I get back from Montana. Which works out well. I was thiiiiiis close to dropping balls. And you all know how I feel about dropping balls! Sweet, precious balls--how could I live with myself if I dropped them? Yum. Ok, that was too much information for some of you! Sorry.
So that stupid paper I was bitching about writing last night-- it turned out great. At least, I enjoyed writing it. I have such a hard time focusing though... it's not a mystery: there is so much entertainment available at my computer that using it for WORK is pretty hard to manuever. Anyway, it was fine. And I wore my Joseph Smith Big Pimpin' shirt to school yesterday. I felt a little more self-conscious than I expected, but I wasn't there long enough to get any comments. Damn. Oh, I just remembered I need to check the Astronomy test. The answers are posted on line, but we won't get our grades until next week.
I figured out today, while sitting in class, that I have sorted out enough material from the course of the blog to fill a book. I have Word documents just sitting, full of Words. If I could get them into a pdf, I would fucking LuLu their asses. But I can't. So I haven't. But I will. Yes, I'm a freak. I'm also hungry. And not Hungarian. Good. Night.
Ok, so I have a smallish paper to write and I should get on that. But. First. I feel like writing something. I had some cool thoughts today while driving, and like always, they evaporated. Oh well. At least I drove to campus to edit an article today... without bothering to check with editor(s) to see if they would even BE THERE. I'm such a 'tard. Ooooooh well. At least I included the bit about my niece in said article. I hope I get hate mail. That would be SO ____________(whatever word the kids are using instead of "cool" these days.) Which reminds me of how much I love catching glimpses of people, and piecing together the slivers and wisps of them to fashion a whole. Like this one hauntingly beautiful girl from the staff. She should be on a runway--no, in close-ups. She is graceful and it looks as if she isn't constructed in such a way as to ever offer a smile, but she does. Maybe it's just that she is riveting to behold without a smile...? Dunno. But I'm pretty sure I would never be friends with her; I've always been intimidated by girls like that, women like that. She actually seems very nice. But so very serious and spectacular and completely un touchable. I guess I am fascinated by people who are so different from myself. Sometimes this fascination is in the form of dislike, but not this time, and not often.
Ok, enough of that. I have that paper to write, don't I? Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. I know I'm as fickle as... er... someone who is VERY fickle, but I really sort of think English is not the major for me. I absolutely loathe writing papers about books. I detest disecting books. I abhor forced reading. It all feels pointless and ridiculous. I love to read. I love to write. but this??? I kind of want to gouge my eyes out. Ok, so I only need to write 3-4 pages which is NOTHING. I am not worried about that. What concerns me is that this type of assignment feels so useless to me. Ask me to tell you a story! Tell me to memorize a list of facts! Give me a giant stack of poorly written essays to edit or sentences to diagram!! But PLEASE, for the love of Shakespeare, do NOT make me tell you what a poem means to me. Fuck. Just...FUCK. This definitely means I'm in the wrong major. Or at least I need to find an emphasis or a minor or SOMETHING.
Guess how many blowjobs my husband got tonight? Well, ok, actually only one. That was a stupid question. BUT. It was a really fantastic one. And. He totally deserved it. I don't usually use sex as a straight across reward for good behavior. That seems a little...manipulative. However. The dear man did dishes TWICE today, did math homework with two handsome little redheads, and thanked me profusely for the delicious dinner I cooked. It was WILD! I was literally turned on by his behavior. I am such a dork. I am also reasonably sure it wasn't actually him, but I'll take it.
And now I'm going to stop procrastinating and start dissecting. At least I get to write about Emily Dickenson if I want to. I'll keep you posted. (I love that woman and her wonderful words!)
I don't really have much to say right now, but I am rather fond of what I wrote in my last post. I like it when I tap into that little place in my head where the party lights are on. Hopefully I can harness something to get this review done.
Yesterday I learned that my ultra-mormon niece (yes, the newly married 19 year old) and her (duh) husband WALKED OUT of the play I saw on Friday. Because the language was "too bad". I laughed out loud--and yes, I would modify that with "derisively". I was somewhere between livid and disgusted. What kind of world are these people living in??? It makes me nauseous and ornery all at once. The unnecessary extremes to which these people push themselves leaves me shaking with anger. What does swearing have to do with ANYTHING??? Am I suddenly stripped of my "good person" status because I fucking love to say "fuck"?? That is utter bullshit and we all know it. How many freakazoid, uptight pastors have abused the hell out of their kids, while never uttering a "swear" word or being in the presence of the consumption of alcohol? How many Priests molesting children does it take to prove this point? How many mormon grandfathers screwing with their granddaughters does it take to prove this point?? I think I may burst, from my sheer frustration at their cluelessness. Organized religion is harmful. Period.
I still don't have that all the way off my chest, but I have too much to do to continue this rant. My point is that they are not making wise decisions, they are burying their heads in the sand while viewing themselves as being better than everyone else. If asked, they would never admit that they believe that, but it's evident by their oft-repeated, canned responses and such ridiculous moves as walking out of a spectacular play over a few words they've conditioned themselves to be afraid of.
p.s. the play was Chicago, which they should have known would have a risque factor to it. I feel like such a freak when I'm at my family's parties sometimes. If it weren't for my J. brother and my M. niece I would probably have to distance myself a bit. Those two get it: they understand that you can be Mormon and normal--just like I can be not Mormon and not evil, all at the same time. They rock.
Oh, and to top it all off, Desperate Housewives SUCKED hairy ass last night. (no, not all of them; some of them licked smelly balls. har.) Seriously, it was like they were trying to fit as much drama into one episode as possible. The result was borderline ridiculous.
The good news is, I am going to visit my longest-known friend in Montana this weekend. With our other friend, who lives here (the Jasmine of previous mentions). It is going to be so amazing. We're going to talk ourselves silly and hike and ride horses and drink wine! I cannnnnnot wait.
I feel like I'm forgetting to mention something. Oh, yeah. Just a quick brother-in-law update: He was in school when he died (that word still freaks me out; it's not possible.), and his university is going to award him a posthumous degree. My first reaction to that was elation, followed quickly by sadness. They're also putting together a G. Lawrence Anderson Lecture Series. He made such an impact there. His professors have all said how much they learned from him, and how having him in class made teaching so much more fulfilling. So that means I cried a lot this weekend, but that's ok. I keep him in my glove box... The program from the funeral, with his picture on the front. Because I always end up thinking about him while I'm driving, and I like to look at him when I do. Kind of silly. I wonder when I will believe that he's really gone? I mean, I kind of beleive it, but I still just have these moments where I realize that he's not just out of sight.
Sorry for the Monday morning downer. You know I'm avoiding a deadline if I'm willing to talk about that!!! Have a happy day, and if you're looking for something more pleasant, scroll to the next post down.