there is no place to be truthful without repercussion nowadays.
feelings get hurt once you publicize what you are really thinking.
so let's applaud internalizing everything and then bringing out a hatchet when there's no more coffee left in the pot.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
go! don't stop!
Ours is the old, old story of every uprising race or class or order. The work of elevation must be wrought by ourselves or not at all.
frances power cobbe 1822-1904
frances power cobbe 1822-1904
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
gray tower tale
i must have fallen asleep while reading kafka on the shore. i had a weird dream about cats and libraries and a strange assortment of characters who all wore lab coats. when i came to, my dad was gone (presumably to undergo another test), and my dad's roommate started talking to me about...a lot of shit. how my dad was really nice and stayed up to chat with him throughout the wee hours of the morning because the guy (the roommate) was in pain. he told me how much he appreciated good conversation and had not had many good conversations over the past couple of years.
his earnestness (and new yawker/european/all around strange accent) made me smile, and i nodded in agreement to most of which he said. as he would try to sit up straight in his loud, noisy bed, we made small talk about his family ("too many daughters"), books ("too many words for his bad eyes"), and the beautiful places he had visited (most of which are in south america) and where he would travel if he had the money (manila and argentina). and he remarked on how friendly i was...much like my father. "it must run in the family," he mentioned and soon after that our dialogue quietened, he began to snore, and i attempted to delve into my book once again.
it didn't pan out though. that man snored way too loudly. like...worse than if your lover is drunk and has a cold and has his mouth pressed to your ear.
so, i took a stroll around the icu. it was early so it was quiet. i met a couple of nice nurses and techs and residents, who all mentioned how i walk like my dad (i think this may mean that i walk very slowly and deliberately...and looked at weird details in the hallway.) and how friendly he was. apparently, he had been walking the halls and making smilies at the nurses. i found myself doing the same thing. just saying hi to people i passed on my laps. striking up conversations with some of the techs about saving some of my paychecks in jars rather than banks and visiting the philippines. talking with other wandering family members about the lack of quality magazine material in the stinky patient care room, which happens to be soundproof.
my dad came back shortly after and was bombarded with calls from his workplace. calls from people i had never met. some calls from people my dad had *just* met. from what i could ascertain, even the director was concerned about how he was and had been getting calls from worried staff. apparently, my dad is pretty friendly. it wasn't until the fifth or sixth call that i became overwhelmed.
i had almost lost my dad, but other people had almost lost a friend. he made, seemingly, an indelible impression. and at that point, i realized how much i really liked my dad...as a person.
i told my dad i was going for a walk and found myself sitting on a busted camel-hair chair on the other side of the ward...with my head buried in my hands. i don't think i have cried that hard in a very long time. i don't much anymore, but when i do, i don't want anyone to find me. and i certainly don't sob in front of my family.
and of course, right when i was in the middle of a snot in my throat, puffy eyed cry, my dad turned the corner and saw me. he pulled his squeaky IV drip across the linoleum, sat next to me, and let me cry. we just sat there and didn't say anything. there really wasn't anything to say. i mean, what exactly are you supposed to say? anything vocalized would have been redundant at that point.
we walked back to his room shortly afterwards and that was that. it probably one of the best, most needed conversations i've ever had.
that's pretty much how my day went.
he's doing much better, for those of you who are wondering.
thanks to you folks who sent messages and called.
his earnestness (and new yawker/european/all around strange accent) made me smile, and i nodded in agreement to most of which he said. as he would try to sit up straight in his loud, noisy bed, we made small talk about his family ("too many daughters"), books ("too many words for his bad eyes"), and the beautiful places he had visited (most of which are in south america) and where he would travel if he had the money (manila and argentina). and he remarked on how friendly i was...much like my father. "it must run in the family," he mentioned and soon after that our dialogue quietened, he began to snore, and i attempted to delve into my book once again.
it didn't pan out though. that man snored way too loudly. like...worse than if your lover is drunk and has a cold and has his mouth pressed to your ear.
so, i took a stroll around the icu. it was early so it was quiet. i met a couple of nice nurses and techs and residents, who all mentioned how i walk like my dad (i think this may mean that i walk very slowly and deliberately...and looked at weird details in the hallway.) and how friendly he was. apparently, he had been walking the halls and making smilies at the nurses. i found myself doing the same thing. just saying hi to people i passed on my laps. striking up conversations with some of the techs about saving some of my paychecks in jars rather than banks and visiting the philippines. talking with other wandering family members about the lack of quality magazine material in the stinky patient care room, which happens to be soundproof.
my dad came back shortly after and was bombarded with calls from his workplace. calls from people i had never met. some calls from people my dad had *just* met. from what i could ascertain, even the director was concerned about how he was and had been getting calls from worried staff. apparently, my dad is pretty friendly. it wasn't until the fifth or sixth call that i became overwhelmed.
i had almost lost my dad, but other people had almost lost a friend. he made, seemingly, an indelible impression. and at that point, i realized how much i really liked my dad...as a person.
i told my dad i was going for a walk and found myself sitting on a busted camel-hair chair on the other side of the ward...with my head buried in my hands. i don't think i have cried that hard in a very long time. i don't much anymore, but when i do, i don't want anyone to find me. and i certainly don't sob in front of my family.
and of course, right when i was in the middle of a snot in my throat, puffy eyed cry, my dad turned the corner and saw me. he pulled his squeaky IV drip across the linoleum, sat next to me, and let me cry. we just sat there and didn't say anything. there really wasn't anything to say. i mean, what exactly are you supposed to say? anything vocalized would have been redundant at that point.
we walked back to his room shortly afterwards and that was that. it probably one of the best, most needed conversations i've ever had.
that's pretty much how my day went.
he's doing much better, for those of you who are wondering.
thanks to you folks who sent messages and called.
Monday, July 13, 2009
je ne veux pas travailler.
i was telling a new friend of mine the "it smells like brown people" story while i was simultaneously trying to flirt with him and the guy behind the coffee bar (better believe it), and it made me start wondering about all of the hideousness that i had forgotten over the short period from me dropping my cafe apron to wearing "business casual"*.
i began my stint at the bookstore because i had hated my job. fresh out of college, i had "scored" a job working working at a public relations firm doing some rather unethical public relationsing. but i was starting to feel uncomfortable, and frankly, unsafe at my workplace. my normal day involved dodging the proselytizing of my co-workers, avoiding the overtly sexual stare of the managers, and working twelve hours/driving for three more. the entire day consisted of pretending. after all, how will anyone buy into your clientele if you look like you're about to kill yourself. anyways, i didn't last very long but i lasted long enough for my team of co-workers to take me to the cheesecake factory and plan out my romantic future. they were both very pretty, very skinny, and very...surreal. like they had just come out of cosmopolitan with the specific purpose to remake me. they eventually came to the conclusion that i liked 'the intellectual type', and that they would drag me to georgetown to look for a fella.
i think i quit the next day.
afterwards, i took the first exit of the toll road, walked into a bookstore, and applied for a job. i was wearing a suit at the time, and one of the managers told me later, that they were kinda freaked out cos i had this crazed look on my face. but i knew my books so they hired me. and thus began my short, yet cherished career in the book slinger world.
it is a lot harder than people think. i mean, there is ringing side. you take a book, charge the customer, and then thrust the book into its new owner's hands. but every once in awhile, you get 'what book do you recommend if _____________?' challenge. the '_____________' could be anything. what do you recommend a fourteen year old girl who is only interested in things grounded in reality (read: no harry potter, twilight, etc.) and who is mature for her age? speak by laurie halse anderson. what about for the artsy kid who you don't know much about (read: i don't keep up with that woman's kids)? postsecret. what about for the toddler whose mother is an over analytical mess of nerves? any boynton book (they're cute, they're friendly, and bite-resistant). and if you're me (or valencia), you have to deal with some disgusting ignorance.
for those of you who haven't heard the story**, valencia and i were pulling a new book tuesday shift when a customer walked in and said, "it smells like brown people in here." first off, WHAT THE FUCK? second off, WHAT THE FUCK? valencia and i spent most of that day in the back room trying to figure out what brown people smelled like. then ended up getting into what makes an 'asian' salad an 'asian salad'. the following are usually included: mandarin oranges, soy sauce, ginger, pineapple, snow peas...and i'm sure a rack of arbitrarily asian ingredients.
who knows what these people were thinking. it's so disgusting that it's actually quite surprising. we still talk and laugh about it to this day because we still are unsure as to what we smell like, but since valencia is an awesome chef and since everyone thinks i smell like candy, i think we're okay.
* everyone else wears business casual. or business 'caaajj' if you want to be an asshole about it. my business casual involves a darker pair of jeans and a cardigan and a non-irreverent color of chucks.
**everyone knows this story, but i'm typing it out for posterity's sake
i began my stint at the bookstore because i had hated my job. fresh out of college, i had "scored" a job working working at a public relations firm doing some rather unethical public relationsing. but i was starting to feel uncomfortable, and frankly, unsafe at my workplace. my normal day involved dodging the proselytizing of my co-workers, avoiding the overtly sexual stare of the managers, and working twelve hours/driving for three more. the entire day consisted of pretending. after all, how will anyone buy into your clientele if you look like you're about to kill yourself. anyways, i didn't last very long but i lasted long enough for my team of co-workers to take me to the cheesecake factory and plan out my romantic future. they were both very pretty, very skinny, and very...surreal. like they had just come out of cosmopolitan with the specific purpose to remake me. they eventually came to the conclusion that i liked 'the intellectual type', and that they would drag me to georgetown to look for a fella.
i think i quit the next day.
afterwards, i took the first exit of the toll road, walked into a bookstore, and applied for a job. i was wearing a suit at the time, and one of the managers told me later, that they were kinda freaked out cos i had this crazed look on my face. but i knew my books so they hired me. and thus began my short, yet cherished career in the book slinger world.
it is a lot harder than people think. i mean, there is ringing side. you take a book, charge the customer, and then thrust the book into its new owner's hands. but every once in awhile, you get 'what book do you recommend if _____________?' challenge. the '_____________' could be anything. what do you recommend a fourteen year old girl who is only interested in things grounded in reality (read: no harry potter, twilight, etc.) and who is mature for her age? speak by laurie halse anderson. what about for the artsy kid who you don't know much about (read: i don't keep up with that woman's kids)? postsecret. what about for the toddler whose mother is an over analytical mess of nerves? any boynton book (they're cute, they're friendly, and bite-resistant). and if you're me (or valencia), you have to deal with some disgusting ignorance.
for those of you who haven't heard the story**, valencia and i were pulling a new book tuesday shift when a customer walked in and said, "it smells like brown people in here." first off, WHAT THE FUCK? second off, WHAT THE FUCK? valencia and i spent most of that day in the back room trying to figure out what brown people smelled like. then ended up getting into what makes an 'asian' salad an 'asian salad'. the following are usually included: mandarin oranges, soy sauce, ginger, pineapple, snow peas...and i'm sure a rack of arbitrarily asian ingredients.
who knows what these people were thinking. it's so disgusting that it's actually quite surprising. we still talk and laugh about it to this day because we still are unsure as to what we smell like, but since valencia is an awesome chef and since everyone thinks i smell like candy, i think we're okay.
* everyone else wears business casual. or business 'caaajj' if you want to be an asshole about it. my business casual involves a darker pair of jeans and a cardigan and a non-irreverent color of chucks.
**everyone knows this story, but i'm typing it out for posterity's sake
Monday, July 6, 2009
equations on restaurant napkins
Speed welcomes us in explosions of night : here
is wrath and fortitude and motion's burning :
the world buries the directionless, until
the heads are sprung in awareness or drowned in peace.
Sleep will happen. We must give them morning.
from study in a late subway by m. rukeyser
today marks four years since brandin passed away.
is wrath and fortitude and motion's burning :
the world buries the directionless, until
the heads are sprung in awareness or drowned in peace.
Sleep will happen. We must give them morning.
from study in a late subway by m. rukeyser
today marks four years since brandin passed away.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
uneasy dreams
"So we follow our wandering paths, and the very darkness acts as our guide, and our doubts serve to reassure us."
: Jean-Pierre de Caussade
: Jean-Pierre de Caussade
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
this is how the birthday went...
ready, set, go...
butt. can you pretend that you love me? scoot your butt over. oh that really is a banana! we forgot the snacks on the table! pull over, i need pretzels stat! bartender, today is her birthday and she will have whatever is left over in that tray over there. asian blush, it's go time! neutral milk hotel is coming out with a new album! butt. oooh! you're so svelte! wait...yes! svelte! can we double team you? driving through pa gives me the creeps; i think the yeti lives here. how do you spell philadelphia? i haven't vomited yet! more pretzels! more whiskey! butt. get in the pool. speedos with holes. shiny asses. ear nibbling is what people do for fun.
good times three nights in a row. thanks, yalls.
the most pbr i've had in years. :P
butt. can you pretend that you love me? scoot your butt over. oh that really is a banana! we forgot the snacks on the table! pull over, i need pretzels stat! bartender, today is her birthday and she will have whatever is left over in that tray over there. asian blush, it's go time! neutral milk hotel is coming out with a new album! butt. oooh! you're so svelte! wait...yes! svelte! can we double team you? driving through pa gives me the creeps; i think the yeti lives here. how do you spell philadelphia? i haven't vomited yet! more pretzels! more whiskey! butt. get in the pool. speedos with holes. shiny asses. ear nibbling is what people do for fun.
good times three nights in a row. thanks, yalls.
the most pbr i've had in years. :P
Monday, June 22, 2009
c'est vrai
Now we the American working population
Hate the fact that eight hours a day
Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us
And we may not hate our jobs
But we hate jobs in general
That don't have to do with fighting our own causes
aesop rock : 9-5ers anthem
Hate the fact that eight hours a day
Is wasted on chasing the dream of someone that isn't us
And we may not hate our jobs
But we hate jobs in general
That don't have to do with fighting our own causes
aesop rock : 9-5ers anthem
Friday, May 29, 2009
i did not choo choo choose this!
NOOOOOOOOOO!
the last monday of every month is when i divvy out the dough for bills. to my horror, this past monday, i noticed that about 360 buckaroos were withdrawn from my account for a united air ticket. i've never flown united. i actually haven't flown anywhere since last july. so, i called the fraud department at my bank, and they are going to send out their investigators (woo woo.) to figure it out. they temporarily credited my account so yadda yadda yadda.
so, a few days pass, and lo and behold, two delta tickets and another united ticket were purchased...for a total of over $1200. so a little over $1500 was taken for a vacation that i wasn't taking. greedy buttholes.
so, yeah. it's not that interesting. i'm just annoyed that i have to spend my saturday morning at the bank (UGH), cleaning up after a sloppy thief (um...who buys plane tickets with a stolen card number?!? i mean, they'll have names on the boarding passes!!!!).
YESSSSSSS!!!!
- so, i'm not too fond of my neighbors. they always complain about how i mow their part of the lawn and screw up the grass height. that isn't a hyperbole either. they ALWAYS complain about that. so i did what any gardening chick would do....i threw fistfuls of wildflower seeds all over their lawn. muahahaha...
- currently, my cousins, bro, and i are planning a trip (kinda futuristically since butthole thieves keep hanging around my bank account :P) to go trekking and spelunking in sagada. (umm..many sagada cave entrances are where the hanging coffins are....and the bones of the deceased.)
i'll probably lose my shit because i'll be thinking of every zombie/famished creature/cave movie i've ever seen whilst propelling myself further into a cave where there are probably zombies/famished creatures/things waiting for me? it is going to be awesome.
well, it's almost 3a.
i'm wide awake, but need to go to sleep...so i'm going to break out confederacy of dunces for the 2342394th time and slug my way closer to the finish line. bon soir, mes amis.
the last monday of every month is when i divvy out the dough for bills. to my horror, this past monday, i noticed that about 360 buckaroos were withdrawn from my account for a united air ticket. i've never flown united. i actually haven't flown anywhere since last july. so, i called the fraud department at my bank, and they are going to send out their investigators (woo woo.) to figure it out. they temporarily credited my account so yadda yadda yadda.
so, a few days pass, and lo and behold, two delta tickets and another united ticket were purchased...for a total of over $1200. so a little over $1500 was taken for a vacation that i wasn't taking. greedy buttholes.
so, yeah. it's not that interesting. i'm just annoyed that i have to spend my saturday morning at the bank (UGH), cleaning up after a sloppy thief (um...who buys plane tickets with a stolen card number?!? i mean, they'll have names on the boarding passes!!!!).
YESSSSSSS!!!!
- so, i'm not too fond of my neighbors. they always complain about how i mow their part of the lawn and screw up the grass height. that isn't a hyperbole either. they ALWAYS complain about that. so i did what any gardening chick would do....i threw fistfuls of wildflower seeds all over their lawn. muahahaha...
- currently, my cousins, bro, and i are planning a trip (kinda futuristically since butthole thieves keep hanging around my bank account :P) to go trekking and spelunking in sagada. (umm..many sagada cave entrances are where the hanging coffins are....and the bones of the deceased.)
i'll probably lose my shit because i'll be thinking of every zombie/famished creature/cave movie i've ever seen whilst propelling myself further into a cave where there are probably zombies/famished creatures/things waiting for me? it is going to be awesome.well, it's almost 3a.
i'm wide awake, but need to go to sleep...so i'm going to break out confederacy of dunces for the 2342394th time and slug my way closer to the finish line. bon soir, mes amis.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
quotation mark quotation mark
"You know that stage when girls first get out of college and they start posing for photo shoots and having corny art shows and drinking lots of cheap beer? If you have a camera and not a ton of game this is your 15 minutes. Don’t waste it." - vice
Monday, May 4, 2009
we were hoping for a boy.
i normally only have a small window in which to write blogs about my dreams. however, last night's REM excursions almost threw my waking life off kilter so i am able to recall bits a lot more clearly than usual.
i dreamt i was pregnant. with a baby. me. pregnant. not i-took-the-test-oh-crap pregnant. we're talking glowing-with-child-pregnant. i could probably end with that because for me that idea is disturbing enough. i am pretty conscious of what my body is capable of, and i do not foresee it housing and hatching a 7lb egg. the idea of pregnancy is kind of terrifying to me. i don't exactly have a lifestyle (or funds) that is baby, child, or even other adult friendly...though, i have crossed off a lot of bad habits from my list. anyways, i digress.
in my dream, i lived in DC, which looked like downtown cleveland, with three other roommates. all of whom were fairly attractive men. none of whom knocked me up. in fact, a large part of my dream was me trying to figure out whose child i was carrying. i would walk around town with a gentle hand around my apparent swell and thinking about solving what should be an embarrasing mystery. but, i wasn't embarrassed at all. i didn't even care on a simple level. i was pretty content with my life. my boys were throwing me a baby shower (yeaaah. 3 men and a baby.). and at night, i would climb up into my bunk bed and lay next to whoever that cute roommate of mine was and we would try and guess the father's name. my baby daddy's name was never revealed. and i don't really want to know.
not sure if my dream life is trying to make a statement about my waking life. i don't think i'm a floozy, but there is a bit of truth to the 'who gives a crap' mentality that i have developed. oh, and the i-can't-remember-who-i-go-out-with-anymore mentality. and possibly the oh-i'm-fucked?-let's-eat-cake mentality. it's amusing how some dead end journeys still creep into my dreams.
when i woke up, i made sure my belly button was in upright position and here i am.
about to fall asleep and get maury to find out who my baby daddy is. haha.
i dreamt i was pregnant. with a baby. me. pregnant. not i-took-the-test-oh-crap pregnant. we're talking glowing-with-child-pregnant. i could probably end with that because for me that idea is disturbing enough. i am pretty conscious of what my body is capable of, and i do not foresee it housing and hatching a 7lb egg. the idea of pregnancy is kind of terrifying to me. i don't exactly have a lifestyle (or funds) that is baby, child, or even other adult friendly...though, i have crossed off a lot of bad habits from my list. anyways, i digress.
in my dream, i lived in DC, which looked like downtown cleveland, with three other roommates. all of whom were fairly attractive men. none of whom knocked me up. in fact, a large part of my dream was me trying to figure out whose child i was carrying. i would walk around town with a gentle hand around my apparent swell and thinking about solving what should be an embarrasing mystery. but, i wasn't embarrassed at all. i didn't even care on a simple level. i was pretty content with my life. my boys were throwing me a baby shower (yeaaah. 3 men and a baby.). and at night, i would climb up into my bunk bed and lay next to whoever that cute roommate of mine was and we would try and guess the father's name. my baby daddy's name was never revealed. and i don't really want to know.
not sure if my dream life is trying to make a statement about my waking life. i don't think i'm a floozy, but there is a bit of truth to the 'who gives a crap' mentality that i have developed. oh, and the i-can't-remember-who-i-go-out-with-anymore mentality. and possibly the oh-i'm-fucked?-let's-eat-cake mentality. it's amusing how some dead end journeys still creep into my dreams.
when i woke up, i made sure my belly button was in upright position and here i am.
about to fall asleep and get maury to find out who my baby daddy is. haha.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
call the doctor. ...not that one.
hypothetically, wouldn't it be sad if you found yourself desiring to stumble upon evidence of someone you don't talk to anymore. with whom you wouldn't even know what to say to for fear of not knowing what to say?
yeah. late nights make you bold on the internets.
really, really bold.
hypothetically, of course.
...
yeah. late nights make you bold on the internets.
really, really bold.
hypothetically, of course.
...
zombie flu anger.
i blame resident evil
last night, i had one of the most disturbing dreams i have ever had.
my belly button fell out, and i was fighting time and disgust to try and keep it in.
that's pretty much my dream in under 20 words. i'm still in shock because it was so bizarre. for some reason, i had an outtie....that kept on popping out. much like a slinky or a stupid "can of peanuts", but you know....not fun. during my entire dream, i ran from friend to friend with a hand over my stupid belly button and tears running down my exhausted face.
when i woke up this morning, the first thing i did was to make sure my innie was still an innie. i've done some googling on the subject and found several penis enlarger ad ridden dream dictionary sites that seem to be experts on the subject (dreams, not peni). so, i'm either going to get divorced/break up with my significant other, i'm pregnant, i'm close with my mother, or i'm not connected with my natural self. considering most of these don't apply, i guess it's time to find myself. again.
don't panic, but i'm about to go apeshit over prescription drugs.
swine flu. oh my god. are you scared yet? because if you aren't, fox news has apparently not done it's job. i'm just slightly annoyed. it's important to be current on world events, but it's also pretty important that the media doesn't lose its shit when people are already anxious and seeking preventative information. however, the primary reason i'm ruffled is because the doctors or whomever who treated the five year old boy (first case in mexico) gave him amoxicillin. they gave amoxicillin to someone with the flu. what. the. fuck. a five year old, nonetheless. i have a major bone to pick with folks that prescribe antibiotics without thinking of the consequences of resistance...you know, thinking of the consequences of prescribing a drug that will have absolutely no fucking effect on some kid with the flu unless he has a concurrent infection.
i'm mostly pissed off because this reminds me of how some antibiotics, including penicillin, have zero effect on me thanks to a doctor who misdiagnosed me. for six months. when i wasn't insured. thanks, doc.
/end angry eyes and heavy breathing
let the cupcake eating ensue!!! :)
last night, i had one of the most disturbing dreams i have ever had.
my belly button fell out, and i was fighting time and disgust to try and keep it in.
that's pretty much my dream in under 20 words. i'm still in shock because it was so bizarre. for some reason, i had an outtie....that kept on popping out. much like a slinky or a stupid "can of peanuts", but you know....not fun. during my entire dream, i ran from friend to friend with a hand over my stupid belly button and tears running down my exhausted face.
when i woke up this morning, the first thing i did was to make sure my innie was still an innie. i've done some googling on the subject and found several penis enlarger ad ridden dream dictionary sites that seem to be experts on the subject (dreams, not peni). so, i'm either going to get divorced/break up with my significant other, i'm pregnant, i'm close with my mother, or i'm not connected with my natural self. considering most of these don't apply, i guess it's time to find myself. again.
don't panic, but i'm about to go apeshit over prescription drugs.
swine flu. oh my god. are you scared yet? because if you aren't, fox news has apparently not done it's job. i'm just slightly annoyed. it's important to be current on world events, but it's also pretty important that the media doesn't lose its shit when people are already anxious and seeking preventative information. however, the primary reason i'm ruffled is because the doctors or whomever who treated the five year old boy (first case in mexico) gave him amoxicillin. they gave amoxicillin to someone with the flu. what. the. fuck. a five year old, nonetheless. i have a major bone to pick with folks that prescribe antibiotics without thinking of the consequences of resistance...you know, thinking of the consequences of prescribing a drug that will have absolutely no fucking effect on some kid with the flu unless he has a concurrent infection.
i'm mostly pissed off because this reminds me of how some antibiotics, including penicillin, have zero effect on me thanks to a doctor who misdiagnosed me. for six months. when i wasn't insured. thanks, doc.
/end angry eyes and heavy breathing
let the cupcake eating ensue!!! :)
Friday, April 10, 2009
where's waldo?
since about january, i've been working almost 50 hours a week. my brain is wrecked. though i've managed to run almost every other night, which is a nice change. but i don't even know what to write about. though, i might actually start writing a book....we'll see.
anyways, i'm alive, my friends. i'm alive. just tired.
xo,
cricket.
anyways, i'm alive, my friends. i'm alive. just tired.
xo,
cricket.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
il est belge.
so, my lymph nodes are swollen on the left side up my neck and near my ear and jaw and collarbone. i should be freaking out right now, but i'm abnormally calm and resisting every effort in googling 'out of remission?' and 'lymphoma'. people have spreading around germies at work so i kinda hope that i have the flu or some really crappy cold and not the other thing. unless it gets worse, i'm not making a doctor's appointment. why? because if it is the other thing, i'd like to have a couple weeks without testing and waiting, testing and waiting. that sounds pretty selfish of me, and it is. i can't really explain it without sounding like a spoiled kid. cross your fingers for a cold, okay? i think it's a cold anyways!
i've never really been consistently pro-active about my health, but i've always been pro-active about my dad's health. seriously. i buy all these foods to trick my dad into eating better. i make him go to the doctor when he's sick or evenwhen he's not for check ups. i'm always trying to get him to go to NIH for those sleep apnea tests because i swear he has that condition. i make him take vitamins. when i was in middle school, he was home and my grandmother told me he was very, very sick. i went upstairs, and my dad was in fetal position puking his guts out over the side of the bed. i totally freaked out and started crying and told him i was driving him to the hospital. my mom ended up taking him....like eight hours later, and he ended up having major surgery. my aunt took me to visit him, and i ended up sobbing so loudly and so badly that she had to take me outside. i get kind of sensitive when i talk about my dad.
i probably get my storytelling abilities from him. he spent most of his life traveling far away from here, even when i was younger. he would bring back all sorts of weirdness (and candy) from his trips. i was a budding philatist as a kid so i have stamps from every country he visited, most from postcards he used to send. he also brought his camera, which i think was pretty advanced for the time. so, i was able to see all the pigeons on my dad's arms in venice (literally hundreds), basque country platters of food (for which i am very jealous), his little hotel room in china with take-out chicken feet on the table, the costumes (and insanity) of rio carinval, and belgium, belgium, belgium. my dad loves beligium. he hasn't been there in years, but he still talks about it like he just left and is about to go back. the people are nice, he says. the food is so delicious, but he can make it at home, he says. i crossed that bridge before, he says. il est belge.
actually, i probably also got my nomadic nature from him because if anyone's trips had an impact on me, they were those of my dad.
now, we're both stuck with jobs that imprison us in one area. haha. i shouldn't say that. i think dad is content to only work until 230 and get every single international relations question right on jeopardy. he's watches anthony bourdain and says 'i've been there.' it's kinda annoying, but i'm glad that he's proud.
i have no idea how to end this post. i could probably talk about my dad and his adventures for a long time. god knows i have all the stories.
well, that's it. i'm done! i want pancakes so i'm leaving!
i've never really been consistently pro-active about my health, but i've always been pro-active about my dad's health. seriously. i buy all these foods to trick my dad into eating better. i make him go to the doctor when he's sick or evenwhen he's not for check ups. i'm always trying to get him to go to NIH for those sleep apnea tests because i swear he has that condition. i make him take vitamins. when i was in middle school, he was home and my grandmother told me he was very, very sick. i went upstairs, and my dad was in fetal position puking his guts out over the side of the bed. i totally freaked out and started crying and told him i was driving him to the hospital. my mom ended up taking him....like eight hours later, and he ended up having major surgery. my aunt took me to visit him, and i ended up sobbing so loudly and so badly that she had to take me outside. i get kind of sensitive when i talk about my dad.
i probably get my storytelling abilities from him. he spent most of his life traveling far away from here, even when i was younger. he would bring back all sorts of weirdness (and candy) from his trips. i was a budding philatist as a kid so i have stamps from every country he visited, most from postcards he used to send. he also brought his camera, which i think was pretty advanced for the time. so, i was able to see all the pigeons on my dad's arms in venice (literally hundreds), basque country platters of food (for which i am very jealous), his little hotel room in china with take-out chicken feet on the table, the costumes (and insanity) of rio carinval, and belgium, belgium, belgium. my dad loves beligium. he hasn't been there in years, but he still talks about it like he just left and is about to go back. the people are nice, he says. the food is so delicious, but he can make it at home, he says. i crossed that bridge before, he says. il est belge.
actually, i probably also got my nomadic nature from him because if anyone's trips had an impact on me, they were those of my dad.
now, we're both stuck with jobs that imprison us in one area. haha. i shouldn't say that. i think dad is content to only work until 230 and get every single international relations question right on jeopardy. he's watches anthony bourdain and says 'i've been there.' it's kinda annoying, but i'm glad that he's proud.
i have no idea how to end this post. i could probably talk about my dad and his adventures for a long time. god knows i have all the stories.
well, that's it. i'm done! i want pancakes so i'm leaving!
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
twenty five overshares
1. i have some mega authority issues. i hate when people tell me what to do. i'm much more receptive if someone treats me as an equal.
2. there is never a better time for pancakes than the time at hand. in fact, i'm eating one right now.
3. i hear i'm hard to surprise.
4. whenever i visit richmond, something terrible ends up happening. (the charlie on grace street fiasco a la october 2008)
5. zero is the number of times people should call me if they want reliable directions.
6. my myers-briggs type indicator is INFP. my keirsey temperament is idealist; my role variant is 'healer'.
7. marrakesh is at the top of my travel list.
8. i despise the snow. there really is never a time that i enjoy the snow. not even on christmas.
9. i am pretty self conscious about my voice. it seems to attract lecherous men.
10. i have over 300 books and no book shelf.
11. i don't believe in making things from scratch just to say that you made them from scratch.
12. i can't stand peanut butter.
13. generally, i'm pretty cheerful. it's kinda annoying. i even annoy myself sometimes.
14. i think a decent amount of my childhood was spent in a commissary. my dad usually found me in the fruit roll-up aisle.
15. andrew, valencia and i were three of those people that actually made it to the radiohead show last may. two other friends were turned away because of the flooding. i broke two umbrellas, had to replace my phone due to water damage, shivered in the rain with a non-hoodie, and then caught a hack-up-your-lung illness. i love radiohead.
16. the top three artists that make rounds on my ipod are: lewis black, vampire weekend, and radiohead.
17. my longest relationship lasted for seven years. the shortest lasted for a week and a half.
18. i have a ukelele, which i like to play in the middle of the night.
19. my first major crush was on egon spengler. so far, everyone i have dated has been some kind of mad scientist/inventor person. coincidence? i think not.
20. when i was completing my senior thesis in college, i kept all of my documentation (literature reviews, drafts, tapes of my interviews, etc.) in a neon orange accordion folder so i could grab it in case of a fire or another run-out-the-door kind of emergency.
21. i keep a copy of the star wars intergalactic phrasebook in my glove compartment. just in case.
22. i haven't eaten mcdonalds since 2006. i don't plan on eating anything from there ever again.
23. i like being around people who actually give a shit.
24. whenever i am having a very, very, bad day, i listen to a very old recording of brandin reading to me. i don't know what he's reading because it's incoherent because he's laughing so much. because he's reading it over some pet shop boys music. i've only listened to it twice since he died.
25. i love dc. i really do. it's such an lovely little city. don't believe me? go to the khalil gibran memorial garden and sit on the wall around 4am. you'll have the best view in town, and you'll get to see it wake up. all those crazy record spots, hipster (ew) coffee bars...oh i love it.
2. there is never a better time for pancakes than the time at hand. in fact, i'm eating one right now.
3. i hear i'm hard to surprise.
4. whenever i visit richmond, something terrible ends up happening. (the charlie on grace street fiasco a la october 2008)
5. zero is the number of times people should call me if they want reliable directions.
6. my myers-briggs type indicator is INFP. my keirsey temperament is idealist; my role variant is 'healer'.
7. marrakesh is at the top of my travel list.
8. i despise the snow. there really is never a time that i enjoy the snow. not even on christmas.
9. i am pretty self conscious about my voice. it seems to attract lecherous men.
10. i have over 300 books and no book shelf.
11. i don't believe in making things from scratch just to say that you made them from scratch.
12. i can't stand peanut butter.
13. generally, i'm pretty cheerful. it's kinda annoying. i even annoy myself sometimes.
14. i think a decent amount of my childhood was spent in a commissary. my dad usually found me in the fruit roll-up aisle.
15. andrew, valencia and i were three of those people that actually made it to the radiohead show last may. two other friends were turned away because of the flooding. i broke two umbrellas, had to replace my phone due to water damage, shivered in the rain with a non-hoodie, and then caught a hack-up-your-lung illness. i love radiohead.
16. the top three artists that make rounds on my ipod are: lewis black, vampire weekend, and radiohead.
17. my longest relationship lasted for seven years. the shortest lasted for a week and a half.
18. i have a ukelele, which i like to play in the middle of the night.
19. my first major crush was on egon spengler. so far, everyone i have dated has been some kind of mad scientist/inventor person. coincidence? i think not.
20. when i was completing my senior thesis in college, i kept all of my documentation (literature reviews, drafts, tapes of my interviews, etc.) in a neon orange accordion folder so i could grab it in case of a fire or another run-out-the-door kind of emergency.
21. i keep a copy of the star wars intergalactic phrasebook in my glove compartment. just in case.
22. i haven't eaten mcdonalds since 2006. i don't plan on eating anything from there ever again.
23. i like being around people who actually give a shit.
24. whenever i am having a very, very, bad day, i listen to a very old recording of brandin reading to me. i don't know what he's reading because it's incoherent because he's laughing so much. because he's reading it over some pet shop boys music. i've only listened to it twice since he died.
25. i love dc. i really do. it's such an lovely little city. don't believe me? go to the khalil gibran memorial garden and sit on the wall around 4am. you'll have the best view in town, and you'll get to see it wake up. all those crazy record spots, hipster (ew) coffee bars...oh i love it.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
making the zombie hut into a reality and other weird affairs
unhand me, zombie menace!
for the past two nights, i've had a couple of intense dreams about zombies. nothing surprising there, yeah? but in both of my dreams, i've lived in a straw/tin hut with my friends. a hut on stilts, filled to the brim with board games in disheveled boxes. the sun would hit the horizon, and my friends and i would climb up rope ladders to the safety of our home and pretend we were in an attic. we'd play a rousing game of clue and try to drown out the sound of nails raking across the tin walls. last night's dream included an escape plan to a bigger hut. unsuccessful.
i woke up in a state of panic because i thought i was about to be undead chum because this zombie priest (yeah, i know.) had grabbed my hand as i was trying to jump from hut roof to hut roof. it turns out my hand was lingering near a window. and. it. is. cold.
* coat kitten. noun. one who talks a lot of smack about being able to brave the winter months and then as soon as he or she steps outside starts whining and then ends up in someone else's coat because the samaritan friend doesn't want to hear it any more.
TICKER NOTES
christ, it's a lion!
so, i just finished off a peanut butter sandwich. i got the memo on the whole 'DO NOT EAT PEANUT BUTTER IF YOU WANT TO LIVE' thing, but i also really wanted peanut butter, which is a rarity anyways because usually i can't stand the stuff. aieee!!! living on the edge!!!
this calls for a parade.
a couple of months ago, i was jumping up and down, hugging strangers, and crying on u street. now, in less than twenty four hours, obama will take oath just hop, skip, and jump away from here [insert fist pumping 'yessssss!' here]
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
someone call the monarchy, we have an imposter on our hands
alligator notes.
let me preface this by saying i just had a really bad day. yes, work is kind of insane. yes, i chose to slice off my hair without thinking (yet again) about blustery winds. but, i really am having a shit day. perhaps, it's just one of those days when everything going wrong converges on me. these days occur too often nowadays. i find myself wandering around my own memories of happier, less complicated times. i guess, sometimes you have to laugh at the universe's infinite joke. everything changes. blah blah blah.
i haven't been able to write in months. no meaningful posts. no additions to the novel. not even a paragraph on desire or devastation. i sit in front of my desk, waiting for words to spew out my fingers and instead, i get a bunch of crap on how i'm having a bad day and how i can't find the inspiration to form pretty sentences. a friend of mine asked me to write about my adventures in the romantic world, in which there is a vast amount of story telling to be had, but i think things are getting a little too real for me, and writing about the lack of mental connection and surplus of whatever remains is actually starting to get to me.
you're not good enough for me, snob!
a new friend of mine (i only say new because we've not hung out as often as most people i hang out with) sent me an email. he made a sideways comment about how i'm a little snobby, and i don't know why, but that has REALLY messed with my head. i've been hurtling staple removers across my desk since. i don't normally give a shit what most people think about me because i'm used to being the odd bug. but. i am really bothered by this. am i snobby? do i condescend to people without even knowing it? i have no idea. i called up some of my close friends and asked other folks whether or not they get that impression about me and the consensus is that i'm not a snob. (though, let the record show that valencia thinks i am a music snob and does not think that that is a bad thing.) so why the hell is this bothering me so much?
because a boy. made me laugh. and i made him laugh. and now we don't speak. now i'm getting phased out.
...
yeah, i know. i'm actually somewhat pissed that i'm even thinking about this and feel like i'm falling into that stupid trap of tradition. i've taken something that someone said, applied it to a sensitive situation and then used it to pretty much paralyze my brain for a day (yet, i'm sure i'll be thinking about this for awhile). a bit of me wants to know if he, the boy who made me laugh, also thought i was a condescending wench. if it was the lack of the click, then eeeeeeeeyyy...it happens, you know? but if it really was the way i come across, if i really come across as being a snobby know it all, then i am really saddened by that. and a completely panicked part of myself is wondering if i looked like complete and utter shit.
crap. what the hell did i wear anyways?
it seems like the older i've become, the more resistant i am to the idea settling down. but it doesn't mean i want to be some lonely mean lady on a porch with eight cats. that is a hard thing to balance and even a harder thing to explain. and it's definitely not something i would subject someone to...especially if they were a secret traditionalist who wanted a (itsanicedayfora) WHITE WEDDING.
i guess i'll see what happens.
[probably nothing. damn.]
let me preface this by saying i just had a really bad day. yes, work is kind of insane. yes, i chose to slice off my hair without thinking (yet again) about blustery winds. but, i really am having a shit day. perhaps, it's just one of those days when everything going wrong converges on me. these days occur too often nowadays. i find myself wandering around my own memories of happier, less complicated times. i guess, sometimes you have to laugh at the universe's infinite joke. everything changes. blah blah blah.
i haven't been able to write in months. no meaningful posts. no additions to the novel. not even a paragraph on desire or devastation. i sit in front of my desk, waiting for words to spew out my fingers and instead, i get a bunch of crap on how i'm having a bad day and how i can't find the inspiration to form pretty sentences. a friend of mine asked me to write about my adventures in the romantic world, in which there is a vast amount of story telling to be had, but i think things are getting a little too real for me, and writing about the lack of mental connection and surplus of whatever remains is actually starting to get to me.
you're not good enough for me, snob!
a new friend of mine (i only say new because we've not hung out as often as most people i hang out with) sent me an email. he made a sideways comment about how i'm a little snobby, and i don't know why, but that has REALLY messed with my head. i've been hurtling staple removers across my desk since. i don't normally give a shit what most people think about me because i'm used to being the odd bug. but. i am really bothered by this. am i snobby? do i condescend to people without even knowing it? i have no idea. i called up some of my close friends and asked other folks whether or not they get that impression about me and the consensus is that i'm not a snob. (though, let the record show that valencia thinks i am a music snob and does not think that that is a bad thing.) so why the hell is this bothering me so much?
because a boy. made me laugh. and i made him laugh. and now we don't speak. now i'm getting phased out.
...
yeah, i know. i'm actually somewhat pissed that i'm even thinking about this and feel like i'm falling into that stupid trap of tradition. i've taken something that someone said, applied it to a sensitive situation and then used it to pretty much paralyze my brain for a day (yet, i'm sure i'll be thinking about this for awhile). a bit of me wants to know if he, the boy who made me laugh, also thought i was a condescending wench. if it was the lack of the click, then eeeeeeeeyyy...it happens, you know? but if it really was the way i come across, if i really come across as being a snobby know it all, then i am really saddened by that. and a completely panicked part of myself is wondering if i looked like complete and utter shit.
crap. what the hell did i wear anyways?
it seems like the older i've become, the more resistant i am to the idea settling down. but it doesn't mean i want to be some lonely mean lady on a porch with eight cats. that is a hard thing to balance and even a harder thing to explain. and it's definitely not something i would subject someone to...especially if they were a secret traditionalist who wanted a (itsanicedayfora) WHITE WEDDING.
i guess i'll see what happens.
[probably nothing. damn.]
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