10 December 2011

revealing google's Inherent distrust

The guilt of living in the real world and thereby neglecting my virtual one, has finally become too much for me to bear. So, for you, a blog post:

(and this is a true story)

I wrote an email to a friend and part of that email pertained to how wonderful, patient, and sweet my husband is (not bragging, just saying). The very next time I logged into Gmail there was an ad (you know how they generate ads based on what your emails are about? yeah, one of those) that dumbfounded me. This was it, word for word:

"Is He Lying To You? Spokeo.com/Uncover-Liars - 1) Search His Email Address Fast. 2) See Hidden Pics & Profiles Now!"


WTF, Gmail? Why you gotta be that way?    

23 November 2011

short personal Rant

I found this on Facebook and simply had to post it somewhere. It says what I have always felt about the Twilight Saga, in a much more intelligent and elegant way than I ever could have put it.

“But when a saga popular with pre-adolescent girls peaks romantically on a night that leaves the heroine to wake up covered with bruises in the shape of her husband’s hands — and when that heroine then spends the morning explaining to her husband that she’s incredibly happy even though he injured her, and that it’s not his fault because she understands he couldn’t help it in light of the depth of his passion — that’s profoundly irresponsible.”

— NPR’s Linda Holmes reviews Twilight Breaking Dawn, Pt. 1

People ask me why I don't like Twilight and I do not know where to begin. This review sums it up quite nicely, though.

We'll have to talk about this more later. Currently, I am in serious need of sleep.

22 November 2011

this Is high-Quality entertainment In the World Of Customer service

I have this co-worker. She is hilarious. Witty, poignant and original. I love it. Talking with her makes the days tolerable, if not enjoyable.

She thinks I'm just bored. She doesn't think she's at all very clever or funny; that I only laugh because I'm desperately bored.

She may have a point...for eight hours a day, five days a week, I am engulfed in fluorescent lighting, gray cubicle walls, and unbearably uncomfortable customer phone calls. I can no longer judge "humor" objectively.

So I will let you be the judge. Here is an email she wrote to me one Friday afternoon when I was out of town, to warn me that she would not be there to assist me on Monday (she's still technically training me in the Scheduling Department). I've changed some names and numbers (fun fact: the phone number given as hers has been changed, at her request, to "the number for the effing public library [in Topeka, Kansas] that keeps calling me asking, 'Where is the The Green Sheep?'"). I assume this means you're free to give them a call and harass them, if you feel so inclined.

I'll refer to her as (ah jeez...quick, think of a name that's not hers...think think think...why is it so hard to pick a random name??) Kate. This email, by the way, made me laugh, and in fact was responsible for random bursts of giggling throughout that day. Certain lines still make me chuckle. Tell me what you think. And be honest. I can take it.

So, if you’re reading this and I’m not literally standing over your shoulder, it’s because I’m not here. If I know you at all, there’s a slight possibility that you even thought “Whoa, I beat Kate here today!” and you did. I’m babysitting, so you must face Monday alone. I wanted to let you know some things (obvious things of course, but emails like this make me feel important) that may or may not help you a bit today. Also, please know going in, I’m not mocking you with this email, I really am trying to help. Anyway…
  1. Technician One is going to Iowa for us on Friday. On the off chance something in Iowa comes up, try try try to get it that day, but not before 11 am. He’ll get cranky, I promise he will and it isn’t a fun experience.
  2. If you need to call or text me, I’ll try to answer/reply as quick as I can. My number is 785-364-3532 and I’m not giving it to you out of pity, the only reason I’m not here is because babies in the workplace are generally frowned upon by the administration. (Just like blankies in high school being frowned upon by the administration. Devastating.)
  3. We still don’t have a tech for the following states in which we happen to do business (in chronological order of admission to the Union): South Carolina, Virginia, North Carolina, Texas and of course Minnesota.
  4. My top desk drawer smells like Play-Doh and my granola has 10% of one’s DRV of copper. Neither of those things are important, nor is the fact that SC is like, 33 days older than VA. Just some trivia to break it up.

This entire email is composed assuming the fact that you will in fact be here Monday. I hope that you will in fact be here and that this email isn’t a waste of time and totally silly. That’s a fact.

Kate :-)
If you tell me that this is the most boring list of items you've ever read, I will concede that part of my sanity has been lost to my vicious 9-5 corporate job, as well as my fundamental ability to recognize humor.
But let's be honest with each other - item 3 didn't strike you as being a little bit original? And item 4? How can you look me in the eye and tell me that didn't make you chuckle? Or guffaw? Or at the very least, smirk?

19 November 2011

no More mondays, please

Today, Saturday, has disappeared way too fast in relation to how long
(and slow)
(and long)
the preceding week has been. I'm dumbfounded and dismayed at how quickly the minutes are slipping away from me.

It started out really well: I slept in. *deep contented sigh* That felt really good.
Then, with hubby Ranger, went to our public library to take part in their fantastic book sale. (I got a bag of books for $3. Yeah. You saw that right. Three. Dollars. Even a broke twenty-something like me can afford that.)

And I think it was around this point that the day got away from me.

We had to run to the bank to deposit my paycheck, and then we needed (really needed) to go grocery shopping. But why just go grocery shopping, so dull, so drab? Let's try out something new! So we went to a local health food store (the kind with whole organic foods, where the hippies in biodegradable clothing can be found - I love it) and got some of our necessaries, but it was a bit pricier than we had anticipated...

...so we got the rest of our supplies from our usual grocery store. At this point I thought it was maybe noon...maybe noon-thirty...

Sadly, it was 1:30. Which means I completely missed a meeting with the Arts and Facts crew (link can be found on the side bar). Ooops.

They texted me to see where the heck I was and told me they'd just reschedule. Ugh, I felt so bad. They only scheduled for a Saturday in the first place because I'm the one that can't make the usual Wednesday meeting. And I'm the one that said 1:00 would be a great time for the meeting.

Uuuugh. Another life fail.

And now I'm looking at the clock and thinking, "7:00?!? How in the world is it 7:00 already? I just looked at the clock two seconds ago and it was 5:00!"

All the books I was going to read today...all the sketches I was going to finish....I've got two comic strips to draw out, two more puppet drawings to flesh out, and tons more studies to work on...

The sun may be down, but  there are still a few more hours left before my body demands that I go to bed for the night. I've got to tear myself away from this computer now if I'm still going to get anything worthwhile done.

P.S. - if you'd like to see the "worthwhile" sketches, studies, and drawings I complete, you can see them on my other blog The Arduous Journey of an Average Artist. :)

11 November 2011

happy 11/11/11 y'all

Tuesday was eternal.

Did anyone else feel that? Yeah? Yeah.

I can't get over how eternal Tuesday was. Wednesday morning finally came and I felt as though I had trudged through a month of Tuesdays to get there. Part of me feels as though Tuesday is still going on.

Good grief, Tuesday. We're almost into the weekend now, would you just end already?

Speaking of Friday (did I mention Friday?), today is 11/11/11. A single digit (1), repeated six times (6), and it won't happen again for a hundred (100) years. Do you like parentheses? (I do!)

I feel like this is a special day. This is a date to cherish, to celebrate, or at least pay some small recognition to. I'm at a loss for an appropriate way to show that recognition...

At work, my manager supplied the department with candy at exactly 11:11 a.m.
(not true: at 11:11 a.m. he had not yet bought the candy; we all got an email at 12:41 p.m. that said "come to my office to get candy celebrating 11/11/11 11:11!!" ...it's the thought that counts.)

A final 11/11/11 11:11 is coming up. Almost three hours away now.

Kinda still want to do something...something poignant, interesting, specific...to mark those sixty seconds before they slip irretrievably into the past.

It has occurred to me that the significance of 11/11/11 11:11 is purely arbitrary, and is not that important in the grand scheme of things. None of my posterity will come to me after perusing their history books to say, "I just realized that you were alive for Nov 11, 2011! That's amazing! What was it like? What did you do??"

On the off-chance that they realize I was alive for a moment of symmetry that they will never see, and just to be prepared for the unlikely event of them asking me about it, I have prepared my response. Ahem:
It was just another Friday. Worked 9-5 in customer service. I spent the evening at home, avoiding chores, listening to podcasts, npr, and watching Netflix.


Not such a terrible way to spend an evening, really. And not a half-bad way to usher in a much-needed weekend, either.

07 November 2011

I Want you To think That I'm A cool person...But let's Be Real

 I went to the BlogWorld Expo this last week in Los Angeles, courtesy of my university. I'm part of a student group that stared up a podcast (http://artsandfacts.blogspot.com - you should check it out) and the university sent us to BlogWorld in hopes that we would learn all kinds of ways to improve said podcast.

BlogWorld was a whole new experience for me. I was surrounded by people who were constantly connected to the internet, and to each other, via laptop computers and handheld devices and smart phones on Facebook and Twitter and YouTube and Foursquare and who freaking knows what else. As I have no money for a smart phone or laptop or mobile device of any kind, I felt a little left out. (confession: my phone is a flip phone from three years ago with a broken hinge and my laptop is six years old and won't turn on because it no longer recognizes the power cord, so it lurks under my bed and collects dust) So there I was, walking around the L.A. Convention Center, which had become a central hub of technology gurus overnight, with the fear that if anyone found out how technologically retarded I was (I mean, I don't even have a Twitter account), they would throw me out on the spot and banish me from the interweb forever more.

As long as I was able to keep this dark secret concealed, BlogWorld was pretty awesome. ^__^

The people at BlogWorld had an infectious energy of innovation that made you think that you were unstoppable, that obstacles were irrelevant, and that nothing was impossible. Self-promoted entrepreneurs and independent contractors, writers and researchers and business men/women, all making their visions become realities. I attended nearly a dozen lectures in two days that boosted my internet savvy, showed me how to create a community/network, why that's important, how to get involved in other communities/networks and the amazing things that can result thereby. Did you know, there are people out there making $140k a year just off of their blog? There's a fellow making almost $2k a week selling his ebook online. But the benefits are not just monetary (although that was a main emphasis), there are people who have worked on phenomenal projects with amazing people and met their heroes, and it all started with reaching out to like-minded people on the internet.

I felt enlightened, empowered, and inspired. Together, we can make Arts and Facts the most amazing art history podcast ever! (yeah!) And I can make my personal blog more engaging and attract more followers! (yeah!!) I can harness my anti-social tendencies and get more connected to an online community of friends and artist and creative minds! (yeah!!) I can up my art skillz and make money off said skillz online so I can quit my soulless job of "customer service" which consists of me telling customers that they trapped themselves in a brutal, unforgiving contract that will demand money from them in return for a service that is about as useful as a wooden frying pan. (YEAH!!)

And then I came home. And I remembered. That my life. Sucks.

I have bills, a tiny cluttered dirty apartment, no laptop, no smart phone, no skillz, a full-time job so I'm stinking tired all the time, and it is effing snowing.

Conclusion: BlogWorld, I miss you. Thank you for all you taught me and I promise to utilize those lessons to better my economic situation, get some Apple gear, make Spring in Utah last for seven months of the year (the other five will be dedicated to Autumn), and maybe even solve world hunger. I will strive to keep your ideals of empowerment and equal opportunity in my heart and mind, despite my bland, soul-sucking, cubicle-wall surroundings. And above all, I will forever appreciate the mounds and mounds of free swag.


06 October 2011

I Like To be cryptic Now and then

I have (slash) had a dream.

In this dream I knew that a monster was coming. I also knew that I couldn't avoid the monster. But if I could get to my destination before it came again, then I could bear the monster's presence.

The monster doesn't stay forever.

The monster never really leaves.

~End dream. Enter reality.~

I didn't reach the destination.

The monster came. It was ugly. But that's not what this is about.

This is about the dream.

I didn't make it to the destination on the first try, but maybe I can make it on the second try. Or would it be better to set my sights on some nearer safehaven?


The monster will come again.

The monster never really leaves.

The choice will not make any difference unless I can start to move forward once more.

I know the monster is coming. I know I can't avoid the monster.

23 September 2011

I haven't Been This cheery since...Ever

Little bit of backstory:

I am an artist and I've wanted to learn digital painting. School isn't really an option right now, for various reasons, so I just bought myself a cheap tablet and have been teaching myself from online tutorials and experimentation.
But I've been slightly (very) frustrated lately at my lack of energy and time to devote to it.

But last night I was able to sit for 4 (count 'em up: f-o-u-r) uninterrupted hours in front of the computer and I painted. It felt pretty fantastic and it reduced my frustrations somewhat.

...or so I thought!

This morning, in the shower, I caught myself humming. (which is not so unusual - but pay attention to what I was humming) I listened closer and realized I was humming a song from Marry Poppins.
...and I'm not going to tell you which one...because ultimately it doesn't matter...because we're talking about Marry Poppins, here.
Marry Poppins! Julie Andrews and Dick Van Dyke and Chim-chimeny-chim-chim-cheroo and spoonfuls of sugar!

It doesn't matter which song you're singing from Marry Poppins because just the fact that you're singing from Marry Poppins means you are downright cheerful.

So. Very. Cheerful.

And there's no use denying it.

Which means my frustrations were not only "somewhat" assuaged - they were straight-up eradicated.

Some thank-yous are in order:
  • Thank you, Mono, for finally being gone and relinquishing my extra energy to me on your way out.
  • Thank you, Corel Painter, for providing tutorials online which give me guidance and hope.
  • Thank you, to everyone who left me alone last night between the hours of 8 and midnight. I couldn't have done it without...er, with you.

07 September 2011

Filing Is my mutant Ability

So I wrote that last blog post because I was in a bad mood (I've been sick for a long time, I've got a secondary infection now that won't go away, I'm still living like a poor starving college student without the perks of actually being in college, stuff and junk and things like that) two days ago. When I went into work yesterday, a Team Lead promptly put me in a back room to do scanning.

And I stayed there, just a box of files and my MP3 player and me, for eight hours.

I'm not complaining. If I had to choose between working with dull, monotonous people or dull, monotonous paperwork, I'd choose the paperwork. The timing of it is just a little unsettling...supervisors separating me from people the day after I write a blog post about how tired I am of people?

I'm either giving off really strong don't-talk-to-me vibes at work...

...or someone in the office is blog-stalking me.


05 September 2011

cynical Mood = Time To write A blog Post

"I made burritios last night."
...and then silence.
I'm not really sure how I was expected to respond.
A co-worker, in what I can only assume was an attempt to encourage some sort of conversation, said these words, out loud, to no one specific or in particular.
"I made burritos last night."
I held my breath in anticipation for some sort of amusing anecdote concerning the details of making said burritos - cooking stories can be so droll, you know.
Or perhaps she was sharing this information with us because the burritos were made using a special recipe, newly discovered, and she simply had to tell us how scrumptious they were.
So I waited.
And there was nothing.
She let the sentence hang in the air between our cubicles until it disintegrated into the comfortable silence that had preceded it.
I didn't sense an expectant pause from her, the kind that might indicate she was giving me a cue to respond; just that simple sentence. Just letting us all know. That she made burritos. Last night.
It's hard for me to find the words to convey to you how utterly disinterested I was in her burritos, and perhaps if I was better at feigning interest I would have been able to turn it into a viable and engaging conversation. Sadly, I do not possess this skill in abundance, so all I could do was sit helplessly bored as another co-worker began relating to us what she ate the previous night for dinner (and how she prepared it and how her sister and brother-in-law and their kids liked it and how you make it and blah blah blah...) and I was left sinking deeper and deeper into dysphoria.
I didn't learn anything new by listening in on this verbal exchange. I was not amused, entertained, edified, encouraged, intrigued or anything else one might hope to glean from a conversation with another human being.
So what was the point? Why would you tell us, randomly, that you made food and ate it last night? Can you come up with a more boring sentence? Can you??
I work in a call center. This conversation is just one example of how bored we become. We say dull, meaningless things to each other and then desperately grasp to find a way to drag those dull, meaningless phrases out into conversations that will distract us from the tedium of watching the minutes tick away on our computer monitor clocks. That is the only purpose in speaking to one another: distraction.
I want more than pointless conversations filled with empty words. However, it should be noted: I'm in my early 20s, newly married, husband is in school, and I'm working approx 40 hours per week to make ends meet. At this particular stage in life (i.e. young, stubborn, stupid, and broke), I suppose I should just be grateful for any distraction I can get, in whatever form it may come.
*if you happen to be a co-worker of mine and you're worried that this post may be referring to you: relax. it probably is, but don't feel bad about it. there's no need to take it personally; I feel this way about nearly everyone at one time or another. it comes from a combination of being chronically ill, sleep deprivation, and sitting near people who have mind-numbingly boring conversations.*

31 August 2011

wednesday morning Adventures

As I walked out of the City Justice Center this morning, slightly disgruntled but comforted in the knowledge that at least I would make it to work on time, I noticed a man coming towards me on a bike. 
He was kinda dirty and probably homeless; but even dirty homeless people deserve a friendly "hello" in the mornings. So I raised my head and was about to verbalize a greeting as he passed, but he cut my off by yelling, yelling, in my face, "HOW'S THE WITCHES DOIN'??" and then zoomed away.
I was slightly startled. I jumped a little. If there had been anyone else in the near vicinity, I would have assumed he was yelling at them. But I could tell, by the contempt in his voice (persumably, towards witches) and his glance, that the inquiry was directed at me.
Dirty, homeless, and crazy.
I hope whoever gave him the bike is also regulating his medication.

30 August 2011

I regret My Decisions

I ate three chocolate chip cookies for dinner.


I let my car's plates expire and didn't drive it for a few months and then the city towed it away and I just sat around hoping that it would be the end of my car (stupid-effing-gar-grumblegrumble-dadgummit-dumb-car!) and that there would be no subsequent consequences.

There's now a $270 fine waiting for me to pay it off. (stupid-effing-gar-grumblegrumble-dadgummit-dumb-car!)

-I really hate my car, guys. It has cost me more grief and money than any other single element in my life. And there are a lot more details in the story of why the plates expired and why I didn't drive it, but those details are not interesting enough for me to want to type them. So withhold your judgement. Just wanted you to know. -

And I just remembered:
I've had a reimbursement check from an insurance company in my purse for several days now, and all I have to do to deposit that into my bank account is leave for work 10-15 minutes earlier than I usually do. And I haven't yet. Why? I play my Gamecube until the last possible minute, and then I rush out the door and hope against hope that I won't be late for work.


Oh groan. Oh fail.

26 August 2011

this Is for Lee

An African-American kid came up to my husband and complained, "My hands are all black."

My husband looked this kid up and down and said, "Dude, so's the rest of you."


...you're welcome, Lee.

12 August 2011

I'm posting This From email....hopefully It Works

I went on a camping trip earlier this week. And I'm not a camper (as those of you who know me are aware). But you know what?
It was okay.
I spent time with family that I haven't seen in a long time. We played games that I have missed playing. I slept (a lot) which felt great. I relaxed, watched the stars, shared good food and much laughter.
And then it was time to go home. (dun dun dun)
We took down the tent, packed up all our belongings that had scattered through the campsite and into the other tent (o.O) and then we had to tote all those heavy bags to the car and then we had to gather the food that we hadn't eaten and figure out what belonged to who and who wanted what and which cooler it should be separated into...gah! And then we toted those coolers to the car and the sleeping bags and foam pad and dutch ovens and roasting sticks and blankets and utensils and random plastic bins and the camping stove and games and chairs (deep breath) and toted all of that into the car.
Drove home and proceeded to unload aaaaaaaall that stuff back into the apartment. Gah!
And then I (and husband) unpacked all of it and put it all away, which required some creative reorganizing of our closets, and then I (not husband) washed all of the dishes that we had used during the trip as well as all the dishes I didn't have the energy to wash before we left.
More exhausted.
What is the point of going on a vacation if you feel like this when you get back? I'm more worn out now than I was before we left. I just want to go to bed and not move FOR. EVER.
But I have work in the morning.
Conclusion: I may give this camping-thing another chance (maybe), but I'm never going camping with mononucleiosis ever again.
=__= (<----- I don't actually know what this face officially means, but it looks tired to me. And that's what I'm trying to convey. Tired.)

27 July 2011

And the Results Are in!

I heard back from the doctor today. Apparently, according to my blood-work, I am currently in the "recovery stages" of mononucleosis.

Which means I've had it for...a while.

Woah, wait a minute...do you remember June 20's post where I made references to how tired I was and how I was trying to expend the least amount of energy possible?

That was totally mono.

And you remember way back on June 1st how was talking about being/getting sick and being so tired I developed a brief dependence on caffeine?

Again. That was totally the mono.

Holy cow, that means I've been battling this virus for almost two months (o.O) and they couldn't even tell me what it was until today.

Not that the knowledge could have benefited me that much if I'd known earlier...but still.

It's comforting to know that I'm in the last stretch of this thing and that it will not go on forever. Also, I now have a valid reason for having not gotten anything done in the last two months: I'm not lazy - I have mono.

I have every intention of using this as a crutch and a shameless ploy for pity as often as I can, for as long as this "recovery stage" lasts.

I've got to go to bed now, I'm falling asleep at the keyboard, why do I stay up this late when I know that I have mono?? Gah!!! I'm an adult, for pity sake - I've got to take better care of myself!

25 July 2011

my (Somewhat) return

3 weeks ago(-ish). My tonsil was swollen. Went to a doctor and he took a look and said, "Hmmm...yeah, that's no good" and then gave me some antibiotic.

Excellent, thank you, just what I needed. I took all the antibiotic.

Tonsil is still swollen.

Went to another doctor and he took a look and said, "Hmmm...we'd better test you for mono."

What? Mono? No, no, surely not. Ho ho ho, how absurd. They tested for that last time and it came back negative.

"Well, let's test you again."

Test came back negative. Again.

"Well, let's send some more blood down to the lab for a confirmatory test."

Apparently this doctor really really wants me to have mono.

Well, I went home and started doing some research on mononucleosis. I don't know much about it, honestly, other than it's viral, there's no treatment, and it can be passed from person to person usually from saliva exchange (that sounded much ickier than I meant it to. sorry).
Here are the symptoms:

  • swollen lymphnodes and tonsils
  • fever and chills
  • cough from the chest
  • increased fatigue

Now guess what I've been suffering from for the last month or so:

  • swollen lymphnodes and tonsils
  • fever and chills
  • cough from the chest
  • increased fatigue

No more. No less. Dang it.

I think I have mono.

I won't know for sure until the test results come back (which I expected to hear about this morning and haven't. Hmmm...) But wait! There's more!

A few days ago I noticed some random red bumps, very itchy, forming on my feet, towards the back of my heels and ankles. Then I noticed more a few hours later on my elbows. (Feet and elbows?? Really? What could this mean?) But when I scratch them, and I can't help but scratch them from time to time, they get bigger and turn redder and look like welts.

What kind of allergic reaction (I asked myself) could this be? What got on my feet and elbows and nowhere else? Was it something I ate?

Regardless of how thoroughly I racked my brain, I could come up with no logical answer.

And then I found this online (and it's from the internet, so it must be true):
In most cases of mono, no specific treatment is necessary. The illness is usually self-limited and passes much the same way other common viral illnesses resolve. ... Occasionally, strep throat occurs in conjunction with mono and is best treated with penicillin or erythromycin. Ampicillin and amoxicillin should be avoided if there is a possibility of mono since up to 90% of patients with mono develop a rash when taking these medications.
Guess what antibiotic I was given, in the beginning, by the first doctor, when we thought I definitely did not have mono?


And now I have a skin rash.

Coincidence? Hypochondriac?

You tell me.

29 June 2011

I used To think I liked Baking...

I made the "Amish Friendship Bread" last night.

I'm not sure how I feel about it.

I want to say that the recipe is a cute idea and how tasty the bread turned out to be and how glad I am to have participated...however -

- it took a lot of work and A LOT of ingredients (I think I lost close to 6 cups of flour and just as much sugar to that "bread" - that's an absurd amount of flour and sugar to lose to ONE baking affair!) And it's not bread at all - it's more like cake. And when I say "more like cake" what I really mean is "it is cake". I admit I'm a little disappointed with the cake, too, because I could have had a cake that tastes just as good and would have cost me less in ingredients, time and energy by using an instant cake mix from Betty Crocker.

So that's a bit, you know...frustrating.

And my escapades with the "Friendship Bread" are still not over: I now have 4 (four!) ziploc bags of fermenting gook on my counter that, according to the recipe, I'm supposed to give to four of my friends.

I'm not sure how I feel about this, either.

On the one hand:
I should end this crazy "Friendship Bread" chain and save my friends from hours of slaving over sticky, smelly dough while sacrificing copious amounts of basic food staples to what is, ultimately, nothing more than a culinary disappointment.

On the other hand:
Maybe I know some people whose definition of "fun" is to slave for hours over sticky, smelly dough. Maybe I know people who would actually love this bread/cake stuff. Maybe I should pass the dough along and let my friends and neighbors decide for themselves.

So if you're reading this, and you're interested in one of my ziploc bags of slimy gook, let me know. You are more than welcome to take it.

24 June 2011

someone Should have googled "Amish" Before printing...

A co-worker offered me a bag of "Amish Friendship Bread" dough today. I was touched by her offer, and gladly accepted the bag of gooky (and questionably odorous) contents.

The dough takes 10 days to bake, nine of those days being spent adding certain ingredients on certain days and allowing the dough to sit, undisturbed and without air, for the rest of the time. On the tenth day you add the last of the ingredients, separate the dough into four parts, and bake one of the parts for yourself. The other three parts go to friends, with a copy of the recipe, and so the "friendship" bread continues.

Cute idea.

Here is a quote from the recipe:
"This bread is very delicious and makes a great gift. Only the Amish know how to create a "starter" so if you give them all away, you will have to wait until someone gives you a new starter to bake more yummy bread."


But wait a second...

...one of the ingredients is "1 large box instant vanilla pudding mix."

The Amish came up with this recipe? Really?

I'm not claiming to be an expert on Amish culture, but I can't help having some doubts concerning the origin of this particular recipe.

(Completely unrelated note that I cannot resist divulging: Stargate-SG1, season 3 episode 16, "Urgo." Dom DeLouise. Hilarious. Your quality of life will significantly increase within the hour it will take you to watch this episode - you need to watch it and hulu.com has it. Go!)

20 June 2011

my Life in The last two Weeks: condensed

I'm too tired at the moment to write anything clever. So instead, I present to you the words I've been trying to write for the last hour. I think the juxtaposition more adequately expresses my thoughts than any linear writing could have done. Enjoy.

"Lawd a-mussy! Ah is in pain!" And then I stop and wonder to myself, '"I is? I is?...is that correct? I don't think that's correct... Why did I say that?'

Last month I read "The Color Purple" by Alice Walker. It's fantastic (of course). I took it back to the library to get another book from my to-read list, and it just happened to be
"Beloved" by Toni Morrison. Also fantastic (of course) but it is heavy. Not a book for the light reader, certainly. So after delving through that, a friend recommended I read
"Their Eyes Were Watching God' by Zora Neale Hurston. Fan-freaking-tastic and I loved it a lot. Yessuh, I b'lieve y'all should read that book - tha's some good readin'.

How can I wash my dishes with the least amount of energy expenditure possible? Answer: watch TV instead.

Dealing with all kinds of pleasant gunk in my sinuses, but I thought I had it under control, and then the infection (or whatever it is) moved to my eye. (You can't tell, but I said that to you in the most indignant tone of voice I could manage while looking slightly offended.) My eye! So I stumbled out to the InstaCare with a bloodshot, swollen eyeball, feeling like Quasimodo escaped from my dark prison to terrify the masses.
I know I'm hideous - for both our sakes, please just look away...

I had forgotten how much I love "Stargate SG-1" until I watched 9 episodes of Season 1 in one night. Oh, insomnia - you take so much from me, and yet I glean from you some of the world's greatest forgotten treasures. I loathe your presence and then long for you to linger - ours is a love story for the poets.

As you may or may not know, all three of those books are African American novels, dealing with roughly the same themes of slavery vs. freedom, black vs. white, and male vs. female. The books take place within the same five decades 1890 - 1940 and at least some, if not all, of each book takes place in the South. So, you know, they're similar. Pretty easy to get characters and plots a little mixed around. Not to mention how the speech centers of my brain have been impacted by reading that southern dialect for weeks and weeks in a row...

Maybe it's totally normal, but it's never happened to me before, so I'm just the teensiest bit anxious: it hurts to swallow. A LOT. I have to brace myself for it and I shudder afterward and think, "Mussy mussy upon mah po' body..." It's not just sore; something back there is swollen. I can feel it and it concerns me. Is this what it feels like when you need to get your tonsils removed? Maybe it's cancer. It's cancer, isn't it? I'm dying. I don't know which is worse - that I think I'm dying or that I have to swallow again. shudder shudder shudder shudder

Cream of wheat, tomato soup, toast and applesauce are fine foods - I'm just as crazy about them as the next person - but I can't deny that I was pretty thrilled when I felt well enough for solid food again.

Life has been going on. 'Nuff said.

01 June 2011

I guess It's Wednesday

I haven't been feeling well for the last week or so. Pretty sure I'm getting sick/am sick/same thing.

When I saw my mother on Monday she hugged me and said, "You look horrible, by the way. Are you contagious?"

Thanks mom.

My first impulse was to be offended ("Whaddaya mean I look horrible?"). But on the other hand (after spending most of the day dragging myself around and trying to pretend to be feeling great when I just wanted to jump in a hole and die/go back to bed), it was nice to have someone recognize how terrible I was feeling. Validation.

I feel much better today, by the way and thank you. Although, that could just be the caffeine I've been putting into my system to get me through my work days.

I'm not sick enough to really miss work, but I sure am draggin' two hours into my shift. So I make myself come, give myself a little caffeine-enhanced-sugar-boost, and it gets me through the day and gives me insomnia the next night. Fantastic.
(And by "fantastic" I mean "not fantastic at all - it's a terrible arrangement and I should stop because my body is never going to recover if I can't sleep properly through the night.")

Actually, that's the argument I've been having with myself for the last two hours: to have caffeine or not.

"I am not leaving my desk to check that refrigerator for soda. There's probably not even any soda left. There was tons left over at one time, but that was days ago. Weeks. Don't get up and check, it's guaranteed that it's all gone by now."

"But how do you know? You don't know unless you go look."

"I don't want all that caffeine and sugar and extra calories anyway. I don't. I've had way too much soda in the last four days - more than I've had in month. I don't want any more today."

"But you're so tired...you just need a little pick-me-up. Just a little one. One small can - it's only like 100 calories, no big deal."

"I sure am tired...but I think all that sugar is going to make me feel sick more than anything. I'll just tough it out and be tired today. Not the first time. I'll be fine."



"I already said 'fine'."

"Well, fine then, I'm just saying it again."



(I think I just inadvertently confessed to a deep-seeded schizophrenia that I was previously unaware of... Awkward...)

18 May 2011

what Do You know?

I walked to work in the rain today. I had my umbrella and was admiring what the rain does to the color and depth of the world when I came to the stairs.
I like this particular set of stairs. They seem quaint to me, in a sentimental cobble-stone sort of way. I've always liked these stairs, and I am particularly fond of them in the rain.

As I walked up the stairs, I was careful to keep my feet on the outer ledges of each step, where no water had pooled, and I thought to myself,
"I didn't know so much water pooled at the...the spot on the stairs where they...they meet...Gah! There must be a word for that spot on a step. The inside of the step? Where the vertical and horizontal meet to create an inside corner...the conjunction of the steps? There's probably a word for it. Buried deep inside some dusty dictionary and buried deeper in some Scrabble champ's brain. A stair-maker would know the word. Good grief, there's probably a better word for "stair-maker" as well. A real, technical and specific word for that profession. Ugh, there's so much to know that I don't know. There's so much I didn't know I don't know!"

I think I knew a lot of things yesterday (at least, I remember thinking I did). In fact, there are days when I'm fairly confident that I know an above-average amount of things. But then there are days like these, when I'm faced with something that I don't know (and before that moment I didn't even know that I didn't know it), and I think that I might as well not know anything at all.

What I need now is a good book, one with obscure vocabulary and lots of imagination, to re-charge my brain and increase my confidence in knowing. Oh, look! I just happen to have Neil Gaiman in my purse! That should fit the bill just perfectly.

11 May 2011

you Would think I'd Be more Sympathetic

It was pleasant enough this morning. A little sun, mostly gray clouds, no breeze. Fairly average Spring morning.

Then, out of nowhere, about 2 minutes ago, it started hailing. Huge clumps of ice pummeling the sidewalk and innocent pedestrians who had been caught unawares.

It's already stopped. (who's ever heard of a 30 second hailstorm? what is the point of that?)

This is what Spring is like in Utah. I don't think Utah copes well with change - especially the seasons. There are no smooth transitions from Winter to Spring to Summer to Autumn. On paper, it looks like it should be smooth: temperatures rise, peak, and fall again. Smooooth.

Not in Utah.

Utah tends to get irrational, even moody, when it comes to the change of seasons. This 30 second hailstorm for example: it's nothing more than a temper tantrum of a grumpy child who is adverse to change in routine. When the temperatures start to rise, Utah freaks out, "Oh no it's getting warmer! It's getting warmer and warmer I-I-I don't know what to do!! Oh no oh no! HAIL!!"

Irrational storming and threats of flooding and unpredictable bouts of hail...it's pretty obvious that Utah has no coping skills when it comes to the Winter-to-Spring changeover. Can we get a climate-therapist in here to tell our State to calm down? Maybe take a few deep breaths, count to ten, get a grip?

02 May 2011

lost in The haze That Has become My life

Yay Summer!

Yay for having no control over my schedule! Yay for having absolutely zero ability to commit to any future plans! Yay for not knowing what-the-crap is going on!

Yay. Yay. Yay.

I have two jobs, both part time, but I'm not really sure if I'll even be keeping the one. It depends on if I take a summer class, and that depends on if I get financial aid to take that class, but do I even want to take that class...WHAT THE CRAP AM I DOING?

No one knows.

Finances have become tight and I'm realizing that I'm sick and tired of being poor. Really. It's too much work and effort and energy to make my limited salary stretch across my living expenses.

School has made me poor. I used to/still do love school. The ideals of getting an education and living the life of a student: I recommend it to anybody, at least once. But it's hampering my ability to make money by taking up all of my time and energy.

So, for now, I'm done with you, School. I feel like we're going in different directions, and I think it'd be best if we part ways for now. But, if the powers that be will it, I sincerely hope we cross paths again.

P.S. - Unless I get financial aid for that summer class, in which case, School and I will be getting back together.

I didn't know I was such a user. I'm just stringing School along for as long as I deem It useful. In turn, School is dominating my time, controlling my decisions, and putting Its needs above my own. This is a terrible, dysfunctional relationship. I should just end it, for everyone's sake. It would be the better, nobler thing to do...

...unless I get that financial aid.

15 April 2011


Everything that comes out of me has been so depressing lately.


Or cynical or sarcastic or [insert synonym here]. Who wants to read that?


I was just thinking to myself (about half an hour ago), "Hey, I have something happy on my mind. I could blog about it. It would be a great blogpost. It would be funny and people would love it. I should log on!"

Now I'm here and I can't remember what I was going to say.

My brain is so useless.


04 April 2011

An example Of Life imitating Art

When Blockhead came into the office and started talking about coming back to school in the Fall, I didn't even flinch. I knew that one of us had to be confused, and there was a pretty good chance it was him. So I calmly asked him how much longer he had in the program, and what classes he needed to take in the Fall.
He told me that he is graduating in Technology Management this semester, but he wants to come back and get his degree in Construction Management as well. This will take him at least another two years.

I should have been distressed, to say the least. I should have felt some twang of sorrow and remorse at this news. But I was in a bit of an emotional state on the day of this abrupt announcement, so I found it difficult - nay, impossible - to conjure any of the appropriate emotions.

If anything, I felt giddy. Like the desperate cackles of a man on the verge of insanity, as he watches the proverbial last straw fall into place and shatter what was left of his reality.

I'm not actually going insane, and my reality is (more or less) still intact, but the metaphor remains apt.

I can hear the desperate cackling in my mind, and while you might think it would disturb me, I'm in fact quite amused. I've become a spectator at a very witty play. There I am, fanning myself with a program and nudging the person next to me, "See that? Isn't that hilarious? Predictable and a bit formulaic, of course, but won't it be frightfully amusing to watch the upcoming antics of our poor protagonist?"

And so we, myself included, wait to see how I will react. As we've learned from "I Love Lucy" it's not what happens to the characters that makes us laugh, it's how those characters react. We don't know how one reaction will exponentially affect another, only that it ends with the improbable and highly ridiculous climax of me standing at a moving conveyor belt of chocolates, hysterically shoving them into my mouth as fast as I can.

29 March 2011

time Travel

Middle of the day, sitting at work, I check my phone to see the time and...

...7:47 at night?? It can't be past 3:00 in the afternoon... Thursday? It's not Thursday, it's Tuesday. ...June? Why does my phone think it's Thursday June 2nd?

But, wait! There's more...

I opened up the calendar to see if it would open up on today's date (March 29, 2011) and it opened to June 2009. WTF, right?

Somehow, between my walking to the restroom and walking back to the office to sit at my desk, my phone traveled almost two years backward in time.
I sent a text message concerning the amusing event to my husband, and as soon as it was finished sending, voila! it was March 29th again, of the year 2011.

What could have caused my phone to leap backward in time to 2009? Maybe it has to do with these cement walls (part of our post-industrialism architecture style...or something. it's the same reason that all the pipes are exposed and painted in visually offensive and appalling colors. the whole complex is like this. no matter how many stairs you climb, you still feel like you're in a basement.) or perhaps everyone carried by Verizon had a strange time-lapse at that exact moment.

Or, maybe, my past self of June 2009 needed to send me a message, a message of great importance concerning the safety and well-being of my family, and so conspired with the Boy Scouts of Camp Tifie (which is where I was working in June of 2009) to construct a mechanism to manipulate the time-space continuum so I could send myself a vital text message within the two minute span of the rift in time-space...but then my 2011 self sent a message to my husband and so my phone failed to retrieve the mysterious 2009 message, to the detriment of my entire future.

...except, I think I'd remember building a mechanism to bend time and space with a rowdy troop of boy scouts.
Better theory: It was a message from a parallel version of my past self that got cross-routed to me, rather than the parallel version of me.

Do I watch too much sci-fi? Or not enough? You tell me.

Or maybe it was just weird and I need to find better ways to amuse myself while I'm at work.

25 March 2011

how To Live without Regret

As you traverse through the hazardous regions of Life, you will meet several people. Some will be significant, others less so (some even lesser than less so), and they will all present you with questions - who you are and where you're from and what you believe - so they can come to know you. So you can come to know yourself. There's one question in particular that will come up time and time again, and you need to be ready for it. Someone, at some point in your life, is going to ask you "What's your most embarrassing moment?"

I honestly don't know why they do this.

I just know it happens.

De vez en cuando.

My response to these inquiries is always the same: "I really can't think of an embarrassing moement: I've repressed those memories."
This response works infallibly well for two reasons: 1)people always laugh (especially this one time when I said it to a student who was studying psychology - he was still chuckling about it hours later. I'm pretty sure he thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard in his life...or at least the funniest thing he had heard that day) and 2)they stop prodding you for personal stories of public humiliation.

It's a great response. I'm very proud of myself for coming up with it, and others tend to think I'm terribly clever for authoring it. But there's a secret to it. I didn't have to use an iota of imagination or wit to come up with it because...

...it's true.

I honestly can't remember my embarrassing moments. Or at least, not very well. Every time I try to recreate them in my memory, I get blocked. Literally black-out blocked. They are, by the very definition of the word, repressed.

If you are one of the few who happened to be present during one of my "most embarrassing moments" please, PLEASE, keep it to yourself. I'm happy in my repressed state of being right now, and I've heard it can be quite painful and traumatic to dredge up a repressed memory. Probably oughtn't to be attempted outside of the presence of a professional. O.o

I try to live my life in such a way that I will regret as little as possible. Everyone will have regret, I'm not trying to avoid it altogether, just limit it. Example:
"Should I do/not do this?"
"Well, would you regret doing/not doing this?"
"You have your answer then."
I've wondered if my repression of embarrassing moments is perhaps slightly unhealthy, but following my no-regret logic I conclude that if I can't remember the event, then I couldn't possibly regret said event. One cannot regret an experience if, as far as one knows, the experience never happened. If the goal is to live with as little regret as possible, then let's leave those moments unremembered.

So now you know my quick and easy recipe for living without regret. And you don't even have to bother with any of that complicated "self-acceptance" or "making peace with the world" junk.

You're welcome.

21 March 2011

wanted: New avoidance Techniques

Is there something inherently wrong with avoiding people?

I’m not talking about anything malicious or mean-spirited; I mean a mutual-avoidance. I’m referring to people who may have a different sense of humor from you and so you don’t prefer their company. Or perhaps your personalities don’t jive really well. Or you don’t have many common interests and so conversation runs dry pretty quick between the two of you. As long as it's mutual, it isn't wrong or hurtful, right?
For the sake of argument, let’s say that this other person is not as bothered by these things as you are, resulting in a one-way avoidance, rather than a mutual-avoidance.
(We’ve all been that other person, the one who’s just a little bit dense and doesn’t grasp the “mutual” part of the avoidance deal. I’ve done it, I’m not judging, but that doesn’t make it any less awkward.)
As time goes on, if they never catch on to the ‘hey, buddy, we’re avoiding each other’ cue, they’ll just keep talking to you, and finding excuses to get in touch with you. Where once it was minimally distressing to bump into them in the super-market, it is now aggressively bothersome. They become annoying, obnoxious and shockingly abhorrent.

If you could just discover a way to ensure your paths would never cross, then everything would be fine.

So why does the Universe keep insisting on throwing these people back into my path? Are human beings not meant to ever avoid each other? It’s as though the Universe is calling shenanigans on me, telling me that I have to try it again, but I’m not sure what I did wrong the first time. I’ll just continue to brush these people off with lies and insincere smiles, and continue to be genuinely shocked when they reappear later.

Let’s take Clinger, as an example.

I've known her for 5+ years now. Every time I try to cut her out of my life, she finds a way to sneak back in. (she clings, get it? so her name is Clinger? ho ho, I'm so clever) Deleting her number from my phone in no way affects her ability to call/text me so, to my chagrin, I've had to keep her in my phone. It's been over a year since I've seen or heard from her, but I keep her on Facebook and in my phone because you never know when she'll be back... *creepy Psycho music* As if on some imperceptible and unpredictable cue, she reappeared recently.

She saw me first, much to my dismay, and called out to me. She was looking at me with the cruel mockery of Fate written all over her face. She immediately engaged me in conversation, closing off my escape routes by tightening our proximity.

We went through the obligatory "How are you"s and "So where have you been"s, topping it off with the "We really ought to get together sometime to catch up."

I don't want to be rude here, guys, really I don't, but: Life has recently thrown me a curve ball and I'm currently dealing with the repercussions of that. I just want to go to work, come home, and sit in my apartment with my books and be left alone while I deal with Life. The details are personal and I don't much feel like spreading them around to everyone who feels like "catching up." What is so wrong with that idea? Just let me be my hermit-hobbit self.

There have been a lot of people on my personal "To Avoid if at all Possible" list who have popped back up in the last month. I think it's the Universe flaunting its own list of "Candidates to Replace Blockhead when he Graduates" because I could definitely see Clinger on that list. Until now it hadn't occurred to me that she was an eligible candidate, or even up for consideration.

I wonder what the Universe's decision-making process entails... Can people text in their votes? Will there be a random drawing? Is it like a raffle?
Or maybe the Universe is letting me have first pick?

That would be nice, 'cause truth be told, I'd much prefer to constantly brush Clinger off my shoulder than have Fungus Girl perpetually sprouting up in unexpected places.

18 March 2011

A quick Continuation

(this won't make a lot of sense unless you read the previous post; still entertaining, it just won't make much sense.)

Along the lines of improving my interpersonal communication skills, as was previously discussed, I would like to give you a glimpse into my daily dysfunction.

Picture this:
An average day in the office. Most of the faculty are gone for the day or teaching in classrooms; it's just me and Blockhead. A student comes in and sees me at the front desk, and so asks me a question (usually concerning the whereabouts of a certain teacher). As I open my mouth to respond, Blockhead quickly interrupts me to answer the question erroneously. When he's finished, I hastily correct him, thus delivering the desired information to the questioner. Blockhead then apologizes and talks ceaselessly about some tangent topic as he walks back to his desk and fades into unintelligible mumbling.
yes, this has happened more than once. several occasions, actually. we're falling into a quite a routine.
It would be so much quicker if he would refrain from answering every question asked in the office to anyone within earshot. Usually, I silently wish for him to stop talking and feel increasingly agitated while I wait for him to finish.

Until one fateful day,

I asked him to be quiet.

True story.

I held my hand up in the air, palm toward him, and said, "Stop...Blockhead, just wait a second...Blockhead, stop..." (I had to say it a few times before he stopped talking, but that's understandable, it was a rather unexpected change to our script) After I answered the student's question and said student went on his way, I explained to Blockhead that he had misheard the student's inquiry and I apologized to him for "shushing" him so abruptly.

I don't know what I thought would happen. Maybe I thought he would be offended. Maybe I thought he would start crying. Maybe I thought he'd complain about me to our supervisor. I honestly don't know what has taken me so long to be up front with him.
So, here's what happened:
He sat down at his desk and went back to watching anime. (yes, apparently we're paying him to watch anime. I'm confused about it, too.) He was not offended in the least (pretty sure it's not in his programming) and I was left wondering why I don't just react that way every time, since it obviously works so well.

So...why don't I? What, exactly, makes that so hard?

Geez, this is a hard question and I'm on Spring Break. Bag it, I'm gonna play Gamecube instead. I'll worry about this garbage on Monday.

14 March 2011

Genuinely happy For genuinely selfish Reasons

I haven't felt particularly witty, charming, or clever lately. Hence, the severe decline in blog-post regularity. Be that as it may, there have been a few happenings recently that may be of some import, or at the very least, of some small interest, to you.

On a slightly related side-note: the book(s) I read influence my speech and writing patterns at the time I'm reading them. Right now I'm reading Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray, The Importance of Being Earnest, and some assorted short stories). Does it show?

Item One: I'm employed again. Hoo-ha.

Item Two: I have to work with Blockhead again. Boo-hoo.

Item Three: Blockhead is graduating this semester!! *wild screams of jubilation*

Yes, yes, it's true. After a long and, what I imagine to have been, an arduous journey, Blockhead will rise to the noble rank of College Graduate.

What degree/certification he has officially earned has not yet been confirmed to me, but judging by his age, the classes he's talked about, and his general personality: I'm going to guess it's his 4-year degree.

Which is awesome.


It means I won't have to work with him anymore.

Ohmygosh I just had a terrifying thought: what if it's only his 2-year degree?? That means he'd be here for AT LEAST another TWO YEARS!

Woah, woah. Calm down. He has been at this school waaaaaay too long for that to be a possibility.

Besides that, there is an even larger significance of this event we must consider. When Blockhead graduates, moves back to wherever he came from and gets a job within his chosen field, he will leave behind a void. The Universe will sense this void and will inevitably work to fill it with some other hardy individual who will bring confusion and agonizing discomfort to my days.

I am quite sure this is how the Universe works because I have already had the privilege of screening some of the candidates. "Privilege" is perhaps an inaccurate description. Think of it more as a tantalizing torture device, employed by the Universe, to drench my would-be relief with anxious and fearful anticipation.

Fungus Girl is definitely at the top of the list. And let us not forget Trying-to-sell-me-insurance-and-I-can't-avoid-her-no-matter-how-hard-I-try Girl. (not a catchy pseudo name, I know. not even a good acronym...well I can't just pull these things out of thin air! give it time, I'll come up with something better.) There are a few others who have made appearances now and then, but these two are definitely at the top of the list.

My plan so far has been to sit and wait for these people to stop breeding so they'll stop abrading my life, but I begin to suspect that this plan will take longer than was originally assumed. I need a new plan, and I think it has to do with improving my inter-personal communication skills.

And while I'm at it, I should probably work towards being a more genuine, empathetic, and altruistic individual.

I think everyone here can just admit that that's going to take a while. An entire lifetime, at least. So let's start simple:

Congratulations on graduating, Blockhead. I think it's safe to say that no one is happier for you than I am.

05 March 2011

another Character defect

Yesterday was my birthday - sshhh! don't tell anyone - and my husband talked me into a having a party. We found a nice park in the canyon with a grill so we could serve food and the weather was forecast to be being sunny.


I was there at 2:00, when I expected the sun to be at its peak. It wasn't. It was grey, and an unpleasant breeze started up, and I was just thinking that I ought to just call the whole thing off, when the first of the guests arrived.


There was conversation, smiles and laughter, but we were lacking a crucial ingredient: sunshine. After about half an hour my friends decided to go home, it was just too chilly, and so wished me a happy birthday and departed. And wouldn't you know it, about ten minutes after they left...

...the sun came out!


More people came, food was cooked and served, eating and mingling and acquainting commenced (a friend of mine even provided face-painting. woah). We were warm and happy for about an hour and a half. As people got their fill of food and talk, they left for their respective homes. As the people dispersed, dearest husband and I cleaned up, loaded up the car, and went home to bed.

And that was...that. *shrug* I'm not really sure what to think. It was nothing memorable, nothing particularly meaningful...I'm not sure it even qualified as "good."

This is why I don't do parties: I have no direction, no vision, no purpose behind it; simply put, I just don't care. I think the day would have been better spent with a book, a bowl of icecream, and perhaps a walk through the sunshine-dappled canyon with my husband.

No offense intended to those of you who came to the party: I was, in fact, quite pleased to see all of you. I wish only to apologize to you for not caring enough to organize a more entertaining get-together.

Remind me to not let my husband talk me into another party next year. I'm pretty sure I said that last year, but this time I mean it.

On a brighter note: my birthday falls on the same day as National Grammar Day. (see, I found it on this website, so it must be true!) w00t.

16 February 2011

my Inability To answer Simple questions

I had a job interview yesterday/two days ago/who cares. It went something like this:

"So now you know a little bit more about me, let's talk a little bit more about you. Tell me about yourself."

I slept for eleven hours last night and I've only felt like half of myself today. I've been on the verge of tears for the last two hours and all I really want to do is go to bed right now.
"I don't really know what to say..."

"Tell me about your family."

My mother and sister are also chronically ill. Yet here we are, trying to function in the "real" world with the rest of you.
"I have three younger sisters. I also have a cousin that lives nearby, practically grew up with us, I consider him to be more of a brother..."

"How would your friends describe you?"

Friends? Do I still have friends? The friends I used to have in school, but then I dropped out with little or no word of explanation to them. How would they describe that? I don't know how they would describe me now. I can't remember how they would have described me two weeks ago.
"Um...I'm not really sure. Easy-going...dedicated, pretty motivated to get things done. Easy to talk to...I guess."

"Our office can be really fast-paced, and even when there's down-time, I want an employee who will find things to do. Use the down-time to catch up on things you couldn't when it was hectic. It's about time-management. How does that sound to you?"

It sounds excellent, it really does. But I can't manage my time right now because I'm moving through sludge. Time holds less and less meaning for me as I am now. What's an hour? What's a day?
"That sounds great. [half-hearted nod] Really."

So that was my interview...I didn't hold much hope for getting that job anyway.

My system has taken a shock, a jolt, and it's taken away my ability to answer simple questions. I feel like my Personal Reality has fallen out of sync with Reality in General. For example: just this afternoon I ran into an old acquaintance, let's call her Alice, and our conversation went something like this:

I'll just sit on this bench while I wait, I don't think this girl will mind. Why does this girl look surprised to see me? Oh, it's Alice. Alice Dalton. I just took her off my Facebook friends list last week. Weird coincidence.
"Oh I know you. Alice, right?"

"Yeah...wow, I haven't seen you since your wedding reception. How long ago was that?"

"A year and a half."


Oh goody, the awkward silence. She's looking at me...I should say something.
"So you're still here? At the school, I mean."

"Yeah, I should graduate in December."

"Oh wonderful."

"What about you? What have you been up to?"

Should I tell her I recently dropped most of my classes? Should I explain my reason for needing to drop most of my classes? Should I tell her that my only thoughts right now are balanced between wondering if I'm going to start crying unexpectedly and desperately wanting to go back to bed?
"I'm fine."

"Oh. ...good."

Awkward silence again. Alice, just go back to reading your book and we'll end this conversation. No good, she's still looking at me and nodding, like I'm supposed to say something. ...I'll ask about John.
"What about your husband, what was his name again?"


Knew it.
"Right! Right, John. What's he up to?"

"Well, right now he's..."

Yes, yes, keep talking about John. This way the minutes will pass and all I have to do is smile and nod. It is infinitely easier to feign normality this way than when I try to talk about myself.

"...well here's my bus. It would be so fun to get together some time. We're still friends on Facebook, so..."

No we're not.
"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah. So maybe I'll contact you on there or something. Nice seeing you again."

"You, too. Bye."

><>names were changed in this re-telling, so don't Google "alice dalton" cuz she doesn't exist. well, no, alice dalton might exist, but she's not the girl in this story.<><

It's been a long time since the thoughts in my head were so separated from what people expect to hear. It's disconcerting in the moment, but somewhat amusing in retrospect. Like a low-budget independent film.

I'm going to Google Alice Dalton now and see what comes up.

09 February 2011

...where'd The title for This post Go?

So, now that I only have one class to worry about, I have a lot more time to relax, rejuvenate, and feel like a human being again.

I played Risk this afternoon with some family (a cousin, sister, and brother-in-law). I haven't been able to do anything like that (unscheduled, unplanned) since a time immemorial.

The primal sounds of battle could be heard amidst the cries of anguish, victory, and raucous laughter. I would like to share some of these with you:

Sounds of Battle:
(sounds within asterisks (*) denote sound-effects; use your imagination)

  • Grawr!
  • *gobble gobble*
  • *gurgling*
  • *wookie moan*
  • Ker-chow!
  • You stupid DICE!!

("ker-chow" is my personal favorite. its context (in a super-cute innocent girl's voice): "I'm attacking you! Ker-chow!!")

The dice gave me snake eyes every time I tried to defend myself. Snake eyes, really? Gosh dang stupid monkey-lover dice...

07 February 2011

some Cryptic statements And A burst of Nostalgia

A lot has happened recently. Some fairly big, life-changing things. Less than two minutes ago, in fact, I changed the course of my future.

I'm still not fully registering the impact of what's happened. I feel that I ought to be concerned, or at least a little more wary of the situation. Instead, all I feel is


I don't think I can say more about it right now. Right here. It should sit for a bit, let it ruminate, and perhaps more details will be forthcoming in the near future.

Until then, I bring you this excerpt I found in my journal. I think I always intended for this little story to be on the blog, I had just forgotten about it until recently.


My husband and I were in Sam's today, purchasing our items as we have several times before. The woman behind the register was talking about a Premium Membership Card and savings, and other words that ran into each other (but didn't necessarily belong next to each other) and I couldn't pay attention. I was distracted.

There was a pixie behind us.

A lithe nymph with long gold hair of gossamer quality. A tiny voice and big, curious eyes. She twittered and flitted and spun, she danced back and forth across the dismal concrete floor. Her clothes hung loosely from her shoulders, ill-fitting yet perfectly appropriate. I couldn't help but be charmed by her presence.

She was utterly oblivious to me; I found that to be quite alright.

The woman was still going on about savings and percentages, and something about a green sign...I kept peering over my shoulder at our pixie friend.

She had a magical quality that I remember having, once upon a time. A quality that I miss.

(Her mother soon ushered her to the exit, their shopping done, apparently unaware of the magic.)

01 February 2011

my Consciousness Is not intersecting With Reality

I used to be motivated by the desire to be an illustrator. Now I'm motivated by the memory of the desire to be an illustrator. I think the desire is still there...somewhere...I'm just way too tired right now to delve for it.

I would say that I'm "desperately tired" right now, but I've actually been desperately tired before, and this ain't it.

Perhaps it would be more appropriate to say "obnoxiously tired." Yes, that's accurate.

I can't think of anything particularly witty to write about (though I'm sure there are many things - every moment of life holds some potential for amusement) so I think I will share with you instead things that other people have said.

Quotes from Teachers:

"My whole life is a field trip."

"I'm not a gambler. But one night I was bored..."

"My book reminds me of Darth Vader in lingerie."

"Science is not doing enough for barren men."

Quotes from Students:

Her: "What do I have in my hair?"
Me: "A pencil."
Her: "Just a pencil?"
Me: "Yep."
Her "...I think I may have lost a pen."

End of Quotes

I know my friends have said several other clever, humorous, and bemusing things, but in my obnoxiously tired state I am unable to recall any of it. And I didn't write it down.

Drat. Foiled again.

24 January 2011

typing Skillz and My weekend

So I've been sick all weekend and I just discovered that the backspace key on tis (this) keyboard is literally broken.


This should be interesteing.

I saw a doctor this morning. She told me it awas probably just a cold (that lasted waaay longer than I feel it hsould have) but I should take a special decongestant anyway.
She also prescribed an inhaler.
Kinda random.

What was the point of telling you taht? I'll be honest, I don't really remember, but I can't get rid of it, nor my plethora of typos, because of my little backspace-key problem.

I'm actually somewhat disappointed that it wasn't something like pneumonia (I typed that really slow because I wanted it to be right!) because pneumonia would have given me an excuse to stay home and SLEEP.

Yes, I'm that tired.

So here are my options: push through one more year of school so I can get Spanish learned and out of the way and then drop dead
proclaim this as my last semester for a while adn take a break. (I miss the backspace-key sooo much right now)

I could take a break and come back. People do that.

Or I'll have kids, move out of the state, live in a house and be forty years old before I come back again.

...but would that be so bad?

It's all so hypothetical anyway.

When next we meet, I willhave fixed this silly backspace-key. Or I'll be typing from another computer. *shrug* Either way...

17 January 2011

A time to Be Still

It's 2 a.m. I can't sleep. Probably because I slept for most of the day.

Not normal, I know.

I hope I'm just getting sick with a cold or something. There are other, more ominous things that could be happening to my body, so I choose to delude myself into believing that it's just an oncoming cold. Something benign and transient, something I could survive.

Ah, sweet denial, my erstwhile f(r)iend. It's been too long since last we met.

I like the silent stillness of this hour. Nearly polar opposite of my life 12 hours ago - the midday counterpart to this nighttime solace.
I like the steady ticking of my roman numeral clock. I like the patter of rain on my window. I like how the artificial light from the streets reflects back down to earth off the thick cloud cover, giving the world a melancholy illumination.

I think I would enjoy being nocturnal.

I want to harvest as many of these still hours as I can. There's a potential here to get the things done that I wasn't able to even approach during the day. As soon as the sun comes up the world will begin moving faster, and I'll get left behind again.

My soul is ragged and raw, but there's no need to try to conceal it from anyone. I'm the only one here. I can be. A small revelation, perhaps, but it has freed me from considerable anxiety.

I didn't realize I was carrying so much anxiety. Such a weight.

It's good to (finally) be alone.

13 January 2011

slightly Less Than thrilling news

Just so you know, just fyi, just so you're "in the know" with the "down low" and the...okay I'm done.

I started another blog.

...awkward silence....

It'll be a cool blog, I swear! I'm going to post all of the art assignments this semester as I complete them. There will be paintings, heads and pretty much any groovy art-related thing I come across.

So if you're interested, you can check that blog out by clicking the link on the right (over here ---------------->)
titled "The Arduous Journey of an Average Artist."

I'm totally open to giving it a different title, so if you have ideas, please let me know by posting a comment either on this post or on the other blog

And if, for whatever strange and intensely personal reason, you don't feel comfortable with clicking on a link, the direct url is: http://hobbit-art.blogspot.com

I love how I've never had a problem with url availability when I find a way to include the word "hobbit."

Which reminds me, I have several new cartoons of me as a hobbit to post. W00t, right?

Hope to see you there. Peace.

11 January 2011

irritates Me To no End

Blockhead has a completely different work schedule from me, we're not even supposed to see each other this semester, and yet he's always here!!!

I'm only scheduled for the next half hour and then I was going to lock up the office and go home. But in strolls Blockhead, like he owns the place, and settles in our supervisor's desk (she just left) and is now doing homework.

What the heck?

(honestly, if you're a student and you need to do homework, then use the student computer labs all over campus - don't come into the office after hours when there are labs provided to you for that purpose)

So he's sitting in the other room, being an idiot, and I'm getting irritated, and he says to me:

"So tell me this, are you a fan of a firm bed or a soft bed?"

What the heck?

Why would you ever ask that? Ever?? To ANYONE??

I wish I could explain it away by saying, "Well, he's just a creeper. It's a creepy question, so of course he would ask that." Then roll my eyes and shrug it off.

But he's not. He's really, really not. He's just a dense blockhead with no sense of social normality, trying to make conversation. After I said, "I don't know, Blockhead. I really don't." He said:

"Oh well I was just wonderin' cuz everyone has their own sense of what's comfortable and what's not and everyone has their own opinion and whatnot and I was just wonderin'...*mumble mumble*"

See? Awkward idiot who is socially inept.

There's another socially inept individual who has latched herself to me and my group of Art Student Friends. I can ignore her. Even when she's sitting less than a foot away from me and trying to talk to me, I have the capacity to give a one-word answer, turn my head, and forget about her existence.

If only I could do the same with Blockhead. The afore-mentioned girl (known as Fungus Girl to some of us) makes me uncomfortable, but Blockhead makes me angry. Frustrated, irritated, and angry. I've actually sworn at him in my head a couple of times. He's incompetent and an idiot and I don't know how to cope with that combination.

He keeps trying to start conversations with me but I can't make out any of the words through his chronic mumbling.

Forget this, I'm going home early.

07 January 2011

is It actually funny Or am I Just starved For Entertainment?

The semester has started out really well. My teachers are great: amiable and competent. (just how I like 'em) They've also turned out to be quite humorous. I don't know if they'll be as funny out of context, but here's a glimpse into what my day is filled with and what makes me chuckle:

"No floating heads, please. They can be...quite disturbing."
(Peter Sakievich, teacher of Rendering the Human Head class, telling us why we should include a background on our self-portraits)

"Never say, 'Never.' Just say, 'Yes! I embrace all things in my life!'"
(amazing Courtney Davis, explaining how she swore she would never work as a lawyer in litigation or family law, only to be hired by a firm that worked exclusively in litigation and family law. this advice, to me, is golden.)

"That's just them trying to separate you from your money."
(Will Terry looking out for his students. maybe not that funny as far as phrases go, I've just never heard it before. I'll now be on the lookout for anyone trying to "separate" me from my money.)

Good times. Good, good times.

04 January 2011

Entertainment At the Expense of An intelligible Narrative


Classes start at 10:00 a.m.

so so sooo much better than starting at 8:00 a.m. like last semester

I will be learning about Rendering the Human Head, which is good because thus far I've just been making stuff up: What does a jaw bone look like? What's a jaw? People have jaws? Let's just draw flowers! Aaaaagh!!

I'll also be taking Art History - Art and Architecture of the 20th Century. I'm really excited about this class. Not only will I be taking it with my good friend Lee and her husband Tyler, but the class is being taught by the lovely and astounding Miss Courtney Davis. *fangirl squeal*
(holy cow get a grip...she's only the most amazing teacher that the university has to offer, nothing to get overly excited about...remember you're an adult now...way too mature for fangirl squealing...breathe in, breathe out, breathe in....)
*fangirl squeal*

It would probably frighten Ms. Davis if she knew how much I worship her from afar. I need to get over my inferiority complex and just be friends with her.

I will also be taking Spanish 1020. ...again.

Inner Dialogue:
Do I need to explain this? I feel like I should explain this...
But I don't want to! It's long and dull and...long. There's got to be a way to summarize my reason for re-taking a class that I aced without raising a tedious string of questions.
(end inner dialogue)

I really want to know how to speak Spanish.



I'll be taking Illustrative Media and Techniques II (which I thought was going to be taught by Don Seegmiller again, but according to the online schedule, it's being taught by William Terry. William Terry? Who the heck is William Terry?) and that class should have more than a few familiar faces. That's good - it means my social anxiety/severe discomfort can take a break that day.

And then, of course, the weekly evening AVC Lecture.

I have very high hopes for this next semester. Stay tuned to see them all dashed and thwarted before week's end! Yay!!

Now, I feel I must be getting back to my book [NERD ALERT] :
The Judgement of Paris:
The Revolutionary Decade That Gave the World Impressionism

by Ross King
which has been my free-reading for the Holiday Break.

Oh yeah, and Happy 2011, y'all.

03 January 2011

just In time For School

At long last!

I can talk, and not squeak! I can breathe, and not cough! I can eat, and not be filled with regret and misgivings!

I am healed!

And there was much rejoicing!!