Confessions of a Southern Martyr

The Wheel of Fate Keeps Turning...

2010-02-18T14:22:00.003-05:00

I think I write this poem every time I turn my life upside down.

Have you ever taken a fork in the road
so fast that you can't slow down
all you can do is speed up
and try to hug the curve?

Have you ever seen a really big dog
standing in the middle of the road
with a transfer truck right behind you
and absolutely no room to swerve?

Have you ever hit the end of a relationship
living on forty minutes sleep in two days
fast finishing your third beer
and contemplating which level of hell you deserve?

southern martyr
circa 2003

Cat Got a Tongue...

2010-02-16T21:13:00.004-05:00

The new cat Argyle (Arg! for short) is great. He's not my black fluffy cycloptic friend, One Eyed Jack, but he's fluffy & loving & weird. He passed out on the couch with me & at some point I looked down & realized he'd been sleeping with his tongue sticking out. Gotta love him.

Even more snow pictures...

2010-02-15T13:31:00.004-05:00

What can I say? I LOVE snow & I have a very photogenic dog who takes direction wonderfully. It snowed for about an hour on Sunday - big, fat, fluffy, flakes that made you want to try and catch them on your tongue. I couldn't resist. So I went out & played & then uploaded some more pictures to my Flickr account.

Playing with Snow Photos

2010-02-12T21:25:00.017-05:00

First I played in the snow. Then I played with the photos. I added them to my Flickr account. The photostreams "Snow" & "More Snow" are what I've accumulated the past two weeks. I have truly enjoyed this winter's weather!

a Picture a Week?

2010-02-11T14:10:00.005-05:00

Okay, this whole "posting what I write once a week" thing seems to be working pretty well. So how 'bout we add a whole "posting a picture I take once a week."

Trust me, I am NOT a very good photographer. However, I have started wishing I had more photos that might pair up with some of my writing. So, let's see if this monkey can take enough pictures so that a few of them turn out interesting...

This week's submission: Sexy Suds

There was something simply voluptuous about washing my mugs this morning.

Unfinished hymns...

2010-02-08T19:56:00.007-05:00

Just a few Bits & Bobs that I never did anything with. Maybe they aren't actually unfinished, maybe they are simple truths that tried to trick me into thinking they were bigger & complicated. Maybe they are snapshots of a moment that can never be elaborated on.

To be Alone
or not to Be.

Standing in a winter field
Listening to the icy silence
In that crystalline moment
You find your Existence.

s.m.

I don't want to be here
and I hate the smell of fear

s.m.

I dig at my wounds with my pen
Write these words with my blood

s.m.

Bury me in a shallow grave
so the wild things may find me
Bury me in a shallow grave
so the earth, it will not bind me

s.m.

He has had his pound of flesh
Drank his cup of blood
Why add twenty seven tears
To an ebbing flood?

s.m.

I tripped a Star
just to watch it fall

s.m.

I guess there's a first time for everything
the second time around!
Ever notice when you're falling
you're feet don't touch the ground?

s.m.

What if I left?
Shed my life
as though it were a skin too tight.

s.m.

I worry there is no Other Half,
no Missing Piece,
only the Jagged Edge.

southern martyr
2-8-2010

The Dog would like to say something...

2010-02-05T20:47:00.005-05:00

The Dog originally wrote this letter sometime last year. He has decided it is time to address this issue once again. He does not understand why he is being punished.

Dear Poseidon,
It has now rained for three and a half months. Please make it stop. Please. The grass is always wet. The dirt is wet. These things make my feet wet. Wet feet make it hard for me to pee. Do you know what else makes it hard to pee? Raindrops. They're distracting. They are usually cold. They are always wet. I like to pee. I have to pee outside (I still don't know why - there was a tree in house for about twenty minutes, but they wouldn't let me pee on it. Not that I tried. I wouldn't do that.) I don't like the rain. My owner likes the rain, but then again she also likes cats. Can you do something about the cats? I guess I should probably talk to Anubis or maybe the Sphinx... The rain. Please to stop the rain. You can have my favorite floss bone.

Wags & Licks,
Dog

Poetry from Chaos

2010-02-03T14:10:00.005-05:00

I have found that Chaos flings out the best little bits of odd poetry. The key is getting close enough to catch them without getting caught in the riptide.

Finders Keepers

Keep singing
keep playing
keep looking
right at me
not at me
into me
abandoned house

Broken shutters
battered siding
frame windows

Standing across
overgrown lot
only ghost
of a curtain
skeleton chair
crooked picture frame

Peering into
cobwebbed attic
of my soul

Picking through
dusty scraps
broken things
left behind

Spying sparkle
shiny thing
in some forgotten corner

Passing grin
across face
as though
already possessing

Lowering blinds
too late

Southern Martyr
2-3-10

Snowtopia

2010-01-30T22:51:00.006-05:00

Tonight I went for dinner and had the best Vegetable Patia this little old vegetarian has ever had the pleasure of eating. After dinner MyBigStupidHero & I tried to stop by McKays Used Books. We pulled into the parking lot and only saw 3 or 4 cars. They were parked close to the front (not around back in the Employee spaces), the inside lights were on, and I could see people wandering around inside. Hope burned brightly in my heart as we pulled close to the front doors. Unfortunately, there was a sign - they had closed at 6pm due to the Snowpocalypse of 2010.

I have to say that as we crept through the parking lot I was REALLY hoping that McKays was actually open and it was just that damn deserted. I rationalized that theory for a few moments by telling myself that people who buy, read, and sell used books are the only smart people I know and thusly A)All the idiots are out buying $150 worth of groceries that they probably already have in their cabinets at home and NOT looking for $25 worth of used books to keep them occupied in case of natural disaster. B)Those of us who would venture out onto the streets with idiots who forget how to drive every time the weather changes just to go to bookstores would be the best kind of people you could ever meet.

If McKays had been open and that deserted I think I would have thoroughly enjoyed meeting every single person in that store & probably would have looked to see what books they were getting. I imagine it would be like that time I went to see all 3 Lord of the Rings movies back to back. To be in a room with only people who truly want to do the exact same thing as you is an awesome experience. Alas, tonight was NOT one of those nights, but for a few fleeting moments in a snow encircled parking lot I believed in the possibility of it.

The Hermit is dead. Long live the Hermit.

2010-01-28T15:06:00.003-05:00

JD Salinger was a personal favorite of mine. He will be missed.

"I don't care if it's a sad good-by or a bad good-by, but when I leave a place I like to know I'm leaving it. If you don't, you feel even worse."

~J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye

Conflicted

2010-01-26T10:30:00.006-05:00

This whole "posting something every week even if it's tripe" experiment has really helped. If by help, you mean that I am posting things that under normal circumstances never see the light of day. I'm not sure how I feel about it. It's liberating. I jot things down now that I would have let slip quickly between my fingers before. Maybe that's good - maybe not. I kinda feel like some sort of Pro-literary fanatic at times - "Poetry starts at the moment of conception!" Then at the end of the day I've got a cardboard box full of inbred kittens.

All that is to say this: "Here's some more poetry! Awww, look at it - it's polydactyl."

Lost

I need to write something.
Come, help me think.
Can you find the words?
I seem to have lost them.
I was sitting right here!
I haven't moved all day.
Maybe they're caught in my hair
or lying curled in the folds of my skirt.
When I rise to search for them
they will roll under the couch
and next Tuesday my cat will speak eloquently.

southern martyr 1-26-10

Drunk at a conference - so why not post a poem?!

2010-01-21T23:33:00.004-05:00

Coming Home

I love the way your hand moves
always to lie upon the curve of my hip.

As though it is a crescent bay
your touch returning again and again
rising and lowering like the tides.

A heavenly body
your hand circling in orbit before
landing gently on the surface.

I hope that to you
it feels like home.
I imagine you feel a vague restless longing;
that something undefinable
makes every return a homecoming.

the smell of woodsmoke

a front porch light

that you know I am here waiting.

southern martyr
1-11-10

I'm proud of myself for putting SOMETHING up every week here lately. My muse has taken to whispering in my ear again. May he linger past the heartbreak this time around.

I've not got much today...

2010-01-15T20:11:00.005-05:00

But what I've got is mine.

I'm hungry.
I'm tired.
I'm angry.
I burnt dinner.
My toe hurts.
My best friend's B-Day present is on someone else's porch.
My heart still aches.
I know I'm alive.

southern martyr 1-15-10

Battle not with monsters...

2010-01-12T21:39:00.006-05:00

lest ye become a poet. For a long time I convinced myself I was just uttering these poems into the abyss. The abyss has started whispering back. My muse has returned. I knew that if I made myself write every little trivial thing that skitters across my mind then more and more words would come crawling out of the woodwork, but with quantity does not come quality. However, if I stop then I fear the words will stop. So here I go again. Unpolished and perhaps unfinished, my offering:

Muse

He's dark and he's pale
He's coffee and wine
He's strong and he's frail
He's rough and he's fine

He's hot and he's cool
He's godly and base
He's wise and a fool
Devil's hand, angel's face

He loves and he hates
He pushes and waits
He's crooked and straight
My choice and my fate

Bourbon on my tongue
and sorrow on my mind
The grace I've lost
and still hope to find

A blessing and a curse
The crossing and the line
Sonnets and blank verse
All or Nothing at the same time

southern martyr
1-12-10

Life's but a walking shadow...

2010-01-08T15:28:00.012-05:00

I resisted as long as I could.
It called to me.
There's no other explanation as to why I knew it was out there
- cold, snow dusted, untrod -
waiting for me.
Waiting for the press of my feet.
Straining for the sound of my crossing.
The sky so grey that no shadow would betray my passing.

"...a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more."
~macbeth

Problem Solving

2010-01-06T15:15:00.005-05:00

Boss wanted me to make a new pot of coffee because we had guests coming. There was still at least a half a pot of coffee left that was less than an hour old. Only one warmer on our coffee maker.

Problem solved:

2009 - Could Have Been Worse...

2009-12-31T17:57:00.005-05:00

if there had been zombies. Work sucked, Geek & I split for good, work sucked some more, then my cat died. There you have it - the Year of your Lord, MMIX.

There's a full moon tonight, the second of the month - a Blue Moon, on New Year's Eve. It's an opportunity you may not see again. Take it. Do something you wouldn't otherwise do.

As you pass through the doorway from 2009 to 2010 may Janus smile on you from both sides.

I scare myself sometimes...

2009-12-18T15:51:00.004-05:00

I was moving my desk into the Ex-Geek's office today and came across one of my poetry journals from about 2 years ago. I didn't remember writing most of them, so I started reading them before moving on to the next stack of crap to be sorted through. Most were my normal melancholy drivel. Then I get to one particularly cynical depressing bit of wordplay & I actually said out loud: "That is just AWFUL." It was. I think I may have just driven myself into a dark spiral. All the more reason for a brand new fluffy kitty cat - therapy. By the way, my long time, black, fluffy, cycloptic, feline companion, One Eyed Jack, died a little more than a week ago.

Happy Hollowdays one and all!

Untitled Awful Poem

She holds Hope
like a child's face
wanting it to stay
small, bright, & her's alone.
Yet, Hope grows into Dream,
it's gangly arms & legs
stretched - reaching.
Dream, enamored of Risk,
leaves Her to her garden,
her cats &
her dirty dishes.

southern martyr 2007

Cabin of my Mind

2009-12-11T22:35:00.000-05:00

There are nights
when thoughts roll like marbles
on the hardwood floor
inside my head.

southern martyr
12-11-09

Flipsides...

2009-11-24T15:26:00.002-05:00

If roots went as deep
as branches high -
trees would never fall.

If love went as far
as hate goes wide -
I'd never have to call.

southern martyr 11-24-09

Here's an Oldie but Goodie that has been rolling around on the hard wood floor inside my head:

Within the Lover turned Enemy
dwells Man's fiercest Hate

To be the Lover hated
Life's cruelest twist of Fate

southern martyr circa 1992

No worries though, I do my best writing when I've got something under my skin. I'll enjoy it while it lasts and save up a little misery for some sunny day that's needs inspiration. Happy Hollowdays one and all!

May not be good, but at least it's something...

2009-11-18T20:49:00.003-05:00

Working a lot, dancing a lot, yoga a lot, boyfriend a lot, writing a little.

A Cold November Rain

Guns N Roses did not ruin it for me

It still feels like the first drops of water to ever fall from the sky

cold clear crystalline

I press myself against the house
The gutter keeps the unswerving drops
from striking me

Yet still they call out as they fall

And those caught on my bare skin
answer with sharp excited cries of their own.

southern martyr 11-17-09

And here's a little something twitter length:

the mountains slept all day today with blankets tucked firmly beneath their chins

southern martyr 11-18-09

well hell... it's poetry?

2009-11-12T13:32:00.004-05:00

Okay, so I said I was going to be a little better about writing. However, I can't seem to find two minutes to sit down and frame my thoughts into any sort of order. That's where poetry has always come in for me. It lets me jot down something (real or imagined) in the moment. Without any conscious effort. Sometimes that means my poetry isn't that great... But it exists, great or slapdash or just plain bad, it's there - a moment or a thought pressed between the pages of my life so that I can go back and remember it later. Here's two that I dashed off during the last few weeks and haven't done anything with. I think that because of how busy my work life has been lately I'm slipping into almost a faux haiku style. At the moment that is how I hear things in my head - short clipped and almost sing song. Maybe I'm going slightly mad...

Untitled

You make me nervous.
I think you lie sometimes,
because sometimes I do too.
And yet, your lies are so much better than mine.

southern martyr 10-09

It Just Ain't Right...

Wrong day wrong week
wrong month wrong year

Wrong man wrong love
wrong hope wrong fear

southern martyr 10-09

Well folks, that's all I got today. At least it's something...

Limbo...

2009-11-06T14:10:00.006-05:00

I know I haven't been posting in a really long time. That's because I've been lost. That's not always a bad thing. There have been a few times in my relatively short life when I was scared at being lost & alone. However, most times, I find it exhilarating. This has been one of my longer, rougher, stumbles through the woods, but I saw things I never would have noticed otherwise.

I spent several months (years?) walking along, putting one foot in front of the other. It was a rather enjoyable stroll. Then, this spring, I looked up for the first time in a very long time to see where I was... and realized I was lost. It's funny how everything is perfectly okay right up until the moment your mind registers that you don't know where you are. One minute you're ambling along between points A & B, and the next you're "lost" and disoriented and slightly panicked.

My favorite thing about being lost? The fact that it is the best opportunity you will ever have to change your mind about where you want to go and which path (if any) you want to take to get there. I changed course and decided to plunge into the underbrush and see where I popped out.

And here I am.

Not sure where "here" is exactly. I think I'm someplace on the road between Heartbreak and Salvation. I've decided to leave the road again and just strike out through woods til I find a deer trail or an old logging road and see where it leads. I'm going to try and do more writing and try keep this online journal updated a little more often - whenever I take a break from my little adventure.

a long night in a dark wood

2009-07-02T00:59:00.003-05:00

It is 1:30am.
I have restored the InterWebs.
Again.
It wasn't gremlins this time.
It was dragons.
I may never fully recover.
Neither will the groundhog.

Woe Unto Me!

2009-07-01T10:55:00.006-05:00

Oh InterWebs! Why hast thou forsaken me?! Do I not worship at your altar daily? Do I not type my fingers to the bones? Yet, in the hour of my greatest need, you abandon me. With a thunderous laugh and flashing a quick cruel and blinding smile, you smote my Router where he stood. What is it that you require of me? I have no Geek to offer in sacrifice. I am but a lowly User. I know no incantations, wield no enchanted teeny tiny screwdriver. Alas, I am not 133t.

Epiphany

2009-06-18T22:30:00.003-05:00

Did battle with the router demons once again. Dragon slain, gremlins banished, peace and the Interwebs restored to my wooded kingdom once again.

While perched atop a ladder in the middle of the woods with my itty bitty pink laptop balanced on one hand while ants crawled down my other arm from the router's power cord, I had a rare moment of clarity. I realized something that I've always known, yet seem to forget every time my heart is broken: I don't NEED anybody.

Yeah, I'm a Daddy's girl, and it was nice when Dad drove by on the four-wheeler and asked if I needed any help buying a new router. But I was able to tell him in all honesty that it didn't matter. I do use the internet to do work from home sometimes, but I could always wander down to my old house or even just drag a chair out under the tree in the middle of the woods where the router is and plug into the ethernet cable.

I've always been like that. Wood burning stove as the only source of heat? No problem! Wringer washer? Who cares! No television? I have books! I've always been independent. I've always been a bit weird. I've always been a bit of a hermit. Those things don't change and neither does the fact that it's nice to have someone around who can and will help you, but in the end if you can't do it yourself then you'd better not really NEED it or else you'll find yourself without it one day. Whether that something happens to be love, or running water, or the Interwebs, I've always been able to cope before and I haven't changed one bit.

Needs and wants are two different things altogether. I want the Interwebs so I went out and figured it out myself. If I want love I'll figure that out for myself too. Yeah, I miss what I had with The Geek, but if it's gone I can live without it...

Hot tea & a Cold heart

2009-06-14T09:09:00.006-05:00

Been okay lately, right up until yesterday. Went out for a couple of glasses of wine with an old friend on Friday night. Awake until 2am. Thought I was actually kinda moving on. Then BAM! weird things start happening way too early in the morning for me to do anything but deal with everything through gut reaction. Geek has a bit of a problem which requires me to talk to him again, toss in a little bit of guilt on my side about the wine & the friend from the night before... That's when things start to get confusing for me. I know it's done & gone, but when we talk it sounds & feels just like it always has. Comfortable, familiar... Geek thinks that's the problem, that we somehow slipped past love and into comfortable and then got stuck. I'm not sure that was the case for me. The whole reason that I opened up to him in the first place was because I was completely and instantaneously comfortable around him - like we'd been best friends forever. Anyway... that's why it all slides sideways for me when he & I talk like that.

I cried a little yesterday. I felt sorry for myself a little yesterday. I talked about it with my friends and it put some things in perspective again. I guess it's just one of those things that will get easier and easier with time. I still care about Geek. I can't quite close that door... yet. However, I also realized yesterday that I had let go of him little bit by little bit over the past few years. Not sure what any of this means to the future and I'm not sure it really matters right now.

So, this morning I'm drinking hot tea and trying to thaw my frozen heart. Today is a different day and tonight will be a different night...

Melancholy Muse

2009-06-11T12:14:00.003-05:00

Having you, was like drinking spring water from my hand.
Natural, pure, bittersweet,
and all too quickly slipping between my fingers.
Now, I sit with parted lips pressed to palm,
savoring the cold numbness,
and wondering if I've drunk my fill.

~ Southern Martyr 6/11/09

As I said before, my muse has found me once again. I don't know if I'll keep posting the little quick things I write, but for now it helps put things in perspective and believe it or not it actually makes it all much much easier. If I can channel a little grey funk into a poem or even just a meaningless string of words on paper, then somehow it's gone from my mind afterwards. I guess it's my way of passing it all on to the dragon who never sleeps...

A moment of painful honesty... with myself.

2009-06-11T08:21:00.004-05:00

This morning I took a long hot bath.
Rummaging through almost empty bottles
while water slipped down my sleepy face,
I realized I was out of shampoo.
That I would have to use his.
That today would be another struggle.

~Southern Martyr 6/11/09

Been a Long Time Comin'

2009-06-09T11:45:00.003-05:00

I've been neglecting this blog for ages now. I've also been neglecting the people I love and myself. So, it's no small wonder when the whole house of cards comes tumbling down. Work has consumed me for the past 2 years. I still feel a huge personal obligation to myself to follow through on what I've worked so long and hard to do. However, I now fully realize the toll it has taken on the rest of my life. I still can't just up and throw it all away, but I can take a deep breath and step back and get a little perspective... even if it's forced perspective.

Thus begins the first day of the rest of my life. Which actually occurred about a week ago, but I've been so busy that I'm just now getting around to acknowledging it. My Geek moved out. I miss him & I'm not going to close any doors, but in leaving the door open I can't keep anybody else from wandering inside either.

I am going to start up bellydance classes again as soon as the new class schedule starts up in July. Right now I am going to yoga classes once a week. The dog is slightly traumatized by the whole situation, so I've been taking him out for REALLY long walks in the evenings. (If I don't take him outside & walk him till he begs to go back inside, then he has trouble sleeping and insists on laying awake on the floor beside my bed moping and farting all night long.) When I'm stressed out I don't eat very much, so between the stress, the yoga, and walking the traumatized dog, I'm losing weight and feeling better than I have in a long time.

I've also started really writing again. My muse abandoned me long ago. It seems he only lingers with me while my emotions are in chaos. He has returned with a passion, now that I am heartbroken and confused. He visits me while I am wandering through the woods in the late afternoon and I lure him back home to my desk with the promise of hot tea and a tale of woe. After tea and a discussion of life's struggles, he often lounges among the books stacked untidily in the corner and encourages me as my fingers stumble across the keyboard. Finally, after a glass of wine and a heart wrenching haiku, I will topple into bed beside my black cat and my muse will gently kiss my eyelids and allow me sleep.

Work is still hard. There are personal and personality conflicts that I would rather not put to the page. Suffice it to say, I've dealt with this kind of thing before and I do have a plan B if all else fails. I'll survive work a lot easier than the unknowns of my personal life. I'm just keeping my head down and my foot out of my mouth. There is a light at the end of this tunnel, even if it seems a long distance to travel.

My Daddy told me recently that "Every day above ground is worth it's pain." I think that just might be one of my new favorite qoutes. There's another qoute that always creeps into my mind when the rug is pulled out from under me: "When a dog runs at you, whistle for him." ~Henry David Thoreau.

I'm hoping that I can keep the creative juices flowing and maybe get my life together while I'm at it. I think that one way to do that is to keep writing - anything, anytime, anywhere. It's what I did all the other times my life seemed to crumble around me. I'm going to try and post something, anything, on this blog at least once a week. That's my starting point. Maybe, if I can manage that, then I might possibly start posting a little bit of my writing. I don't know. No matter what comes, I have decided that I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other and see where I end up. And I think that if I write a little bit, dance a little bit, and keep my friends close to my heart, then I'll at least enjoy the journey.

I realize that this post is a long & rambling explanation of something that no one besides myself cares about, but that's how I deal with things. I write them down. I bind them to the page and they don't seem so overwhelming anymore. They become nothing more than flowers pressed between the pages in an old book, until one day I find them again and can't remember why I put them there in the first place. Also, sometimes I just like shouting into the void...

a strange thing happened on the way to...

2009-04-12T12:15:00.009-05:00

I was driving. Minding my own business, when I was delighted to see something that just struck me as peculiar (Pardon the finger shadows - I was driving 70 miles an hour at the time):

Yup, that's a basketball goal in the back of a truck. But that wasn't necessarily the part that made me watch in wonder... What caught my eye was that the net part was flying out behind it like a wind sock! I have seen basketball goals lying down on the ground and I have seen basketball goals folded back into the rafters of gymnasiums, but I have never seen a basketball goal lying down with the net still so neatly round as if waiting for that perfect jump shot. It was fascinating - at least to me. Plus, I kept wondering if I pulled in front of it and tossed something out the window if it would be at all possible to score 2 points...

a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese?

2009-03-14T02:05:00.006-05:00

It is 3:14am. I do not usually blog when I am unable to sleep, however I have found being awake in the wee small hours of this particular morning, all alone, to be a little more than my sanity can apparently bear. I am recording this stream of consciousness to prove to myself that this is indeed NOT one of those horrifying "dream within a bout of insomnia within a dream."

I awaken an hour and a half ago - startled bolt upright in bed by the realization that I had been singing the chorus to Rihanna's "Umbrella" over & over again in my sleep. I was then startled while getting myself a drink of water by the realization that Rihanna's song "Umbrella" is simply one giant chorus. I was further startled while scrounging around looking for some Tums by hearing myself very clearly and distinctly announce to an empty house "Ou est un Pamplemousse. Je suis le Pamplemousse!" It has been nigh on 17 years since my last French class, but I know without a doubt that that translates to "In the east a grapefruit. I AM the Grapefruit!"

I'm pouring myself some SoCo, turning on my iPod, and praying sanity finds me before dawn.

Last night - A Dream Study

2009-02-21T11:48:00.004-05:00

I was getting married

in a pink dress

which was being decorated

with pink FROSTING roses

when someone brushed my hair

and made me cry

a midget swore to kill me on my honeymoon

yet was willing to give me a sporting chance

Barbie gave a pep talk to convince him

to go through with his threat

it apparently didn't matter to her

that my family raised fish

Open Letter from the Dog

2009-01-06T19:00:00.005-05:00

Dear Poseidon,
It has now rained for three and a half months. Please make it stop. Please. The grass is always wet. The dirt is wet. These things make my feet wet. Wet feet make it hard for me to pee. Do you know what else makes it hard to pee? Raindrops. They're distracting. They are usually cold. They are always wet. I like to pee. I have to pee outside (I still don't know why - there was a tree in house for about twenty minutes, but they wouldn't let me pee on it. Not that I tried. I wouldn't do that.) I don't like the rain. My owner likes the rain, but then again she also likes cats. Can you do something about the cats? I guess I should probably talk to Anubis or maybe the Sphinx... The rain. Please to stop the rain. You can have my favorite floss bone.

Wags & Licks,
The Dog

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to 2009...

2008-12-30T00:51:00.006-05:00

I have a "friend" going through a very tough time right now. They were very supportive of me when I was going through a very tough time. So I spent the evening talking to them and being supportive. I had called My Geek earlier in the evening to inform him of said supportive tough time talk. Geek is aware of said tough time and is also supportive though not as close to the friend and does not talk.

My Geek has a bit of a tough time this time of year also. I have a tough time this time of year. My mother has a tough time this time of year. And on December 29, 2008 they all intersected in a truly spectacular way.

My Geek had spent the entire evening working in the out of doors restoring the Interwebs to us by endlessly adjusting the routers which transfer a wireless internet signal between three houses and through the deep, dark, & panic inducing woods to our house. He did not check his voicemail to hear my explanation of the aforementioned tough time talk. He instead stumbled up through the woods to find a large truck idling in his driveway at 9:30pm. He proceeds to call me in a slight panic.

I, being a good and decent friend, have turned off my cell phone so as not to belittle nor interrupt aforementioned tough time talk. My Geek, who has a tough time this time of year, has been having nightmares recently. My Geek should not go without sleep, due to yet other more recent tough times. This along with prolonged physical exertion, probably a little low blood sugar, a dark and creepy wood, a monster truck idling in his driveway, his girlfriend nowhere to be found, not answering her phone AND a little extra emotional tough time of the year baggage thrown in for good measure and he proceeds to stalk through the woods panicked, calling & text messaging me for the next 20-30 minutes.

I, being a good and decent friend, am completely unaware of any of this. My friend finally assures me that he will be okay. I return satisfied of being a good and decent friend to my home only to find it empty. I pull out my phone to call MY Geek and see a voicemail notification. I check my voicemail. It sounds like something from The Blair Witch Project. It's My Geek out of breath, twigs snapping underfoot, asking where I am and what's wrong and what's that truck?! and then the message just cuts off mid sentence. I call him. He's out of breath. He's in the woods. He's mad. It is now 10pm. He hangs up on me.

I wander out of doors to meet him at the top of the trail and try to smooth things out or maybe start a fight. (Sometimes I try not to overthink these things and just go with what feels right in the moment, you know.) I reach the trail, in the dark, and am startled by what I think to be My Geek. However, this figure, though as tall as My Geek, is not agitated as My Geek would have been. This figure, I soon realize, is My Mother. We raise our arms in mutual bewilderment, like two mimes. My Geek stomps up the trail, passes between the two of us (still in prolonged shrugs like two sarcastic Greek statues), and then proceeds to stomp into the house and turn off all the lights.

My Mother turns to me, hugs me, hugs me again, hugs me a third time while slightly rocking me back & forth, and then announces at the top of her lungs...

"Happy Festivus!"

Indeed.

*All is well now. And I thank my lucky stars for my Geek, my friends (all five or six of you) and my family. I hope 2009 brings us all the best - and when it doesn't I'll remember why I love you all so much! Thank you all.

Arrrrggghhh!

2008-12-17T13:46:00.008-05:00

My pirate name is:

Mad Bess Bonney

Every pirate is a little bit crazy. You, though, are more than just a little bit. You can be a little bit unpredictable, but a pirate's life is far from full of certainties, so that fits in pretty well. Arr!

Get your own pirate name from piratequiz.com.
part of the fidius.org network

Plus, I had to use the "Edit Html" tab on this post cause their code wasn't Copy & Paste worthy. Now who's a Pirate?!

Forgotten but Not Gone

2008-11-06T15:45:00.002-05:00

I've been really frazzled & scattered & screwed up all summer. My writing has suffered, my personal life has suffered, and my poor neglected blog has suffered. But with fall slowly decaying around me I feel freshly inspired. I replied to MyBestestFriend's email today with the following message and I think it sums up how things are going for me right now:

"I’m not sure what the hell happened this afternoon… I think my muse might be back. He’s been lounging around just outside the corner of my eye, teasing me while I’m trying to work, and whispering wonderfully brazen ideas in my ear while I’m sleeping. I’m thinking of trying to lure him out into the open with coffee, absinthe, and an old typewriter."

I'm still really busy, however I have a sneaking suspicion that I'll be making the time to dabble with my favorite creative outlets very soon...

I'm magic!

2008-08-21T14:02:00.003-05:00

I disappeared for 2 months!
I'm back. I'm still working harder and longer than I would like, but I have made a few decisions about how I am going to spend my time.

I have decided that if my BigStupidHero can work like a maniac and still have time to write a little, rant a little, and stay in touch with his friends via the IntraWeb ~ then so can I!

My Faerie godbaby, Puppy, is doing wonderfully disgusting things. His mother, MyBestestFriend, has a new blog, but I don't know if I'm allowed to link to it. I'll have to ask permission first ~ after all she's a MOM now so you ALWAYS have to ask permission first. I'm going to have to start taking the camera over when I visit. I'm pretty sure I can get some really interesting abstract art out of that little critter. By the way, I have decided that sitting and holding Puppy is really relaxing and fun. It's like playing with a kitten ~ a drooling, farting, hairless kitten with poor motor skills.

Myself, MyBigStupidHero, and three other friends went camping last weekend. We had fun. The lake was a little on the chill side, but a rousing game of "gently toss the nerf ball" kept the blood pumping enough to prevent hypothermia. It's been a while since I've actually had to sleep in a sleeping bag on the ground and that was not something I missed. I got smoke in my eyes pretty good while trying to start the fire. Couldn't light the damned brand new cook stove. And two (TWO!) of my fake "vegetarian" hotdogs fell into the fire. But there was great conversation, truly inappropriate humour, lots of food, and campsite neighbors whose only flaw was keeping a radio going all night just faintly enough that you kept trying to figure out what song was playing. I did not take this picture of our campsite, it was simply emailed to me after I returned home. I think Big Foot has a digital camera.

I'm So Smart I'm Stupid

2008-06-03T12:33:00.002-05:00

I read. A lot. I'm a poet. So sometimes when I read something I'm thinking about other things... Ponies, kittens, sex, those geometric patterns left in drying mud. Anyway. I was looking up an address on RandMcNally.com (because MapQuest sucks) and I'm skimming the page trying to zoom in close enough to see what I need to see when suddenly I spot a word. A wonderful word. A word I think I know vaguely, but I realize with a fluttering heart that I've never seen it used this way before. Could it be? It makes perfect sense to me. I know EXACTLY what it's saying. "Recenter." And then I see it again. "Recenter maps on address." How original. How playful. I am feeling that same feeling as the first time I read Clockwork Orange.

Then I see the big picture. There is nothing new under the sun. Everything is as it was. The muck of mundanity sucks at my shoes and my brain plods slowly and deliberately back to work.

For those who care, there was a fleeting moment when the word "Recenter" filled my mind as the most beautifully off kilter way to state "More Recent." Now I feel melancholy and rather stupid. I don't even have the excuse of having been incapcitoxicated.

Bippity-boppity-booyah!

2008-06-02T10:59:00.003-05:00

I'm a Faerie godmother!
My bestestfriend in the whole wide world gave birth to her life long burden Friday morning. He was a big baby-8lbs 11oz. Which means I won the bet and not only will I NOT be changing shitty diapers on our first Mall Crawl together, but I'll also be getting a fabulous prize (that DOESN'T come wrapped in a diaper)! I am so glad that everyone seems to be unscathed by the whole horrifying experience. I have crocheted a blanket, made a draft blocker for the scary closet door, tie dyed onesies & receiving blankets, made a sage smudge stick, fixed up a "Welcome Home" basket for the mommy which includes the first 2 seasons of Perfect Strangers, and found the perfect little buddha for Puppy's room.

I'm busy as hell at work, but I am soooo looking forward to being able to stop by and see the little gross bundle of poop after work. It will be so nice to watch him & play with him and then still be able to go home at the end of the night and have sex and drink and curse and then sleep late the next morning without any real worries. Yippeee! It's not my kid!

Spring and other things

2008-04-25T15:03:00.002-05:00

I've been working my ass off lately, not sleeping very well, and just been generally pissed off at the entire world. It happens every fucking spring. I hate the color green, I hate pollen, I hate humidity, I hate warm weather. Spring has always reminded me of kudzu - this choking green cover that seems to smother everything.

And now for something COMPLETELY different.
This is what MyBigStupidHero had for lunch yesterday:

I ate the same thing minus the dead animal and broccoli casserole (I've always suspected there's something lurking in there I don't want... maybe chicken broth) plus a side of fried squash. Very very good. Well, okay, so maybe life isn't so fuckin' bad after all when a vegetarian can go out to lunch with her friends and have some kick ass southern cooking. Thanks for making me leave my little grey funk at the office, ThomAss!

I have not fallen off the face of the earth...

2008-04-11T14:29:00.003-05:00

Though there have been times in the past few weeks when it would have been nice to have had that option. Work is HORRIFYING! I hate being a grown up! I hate having a job where I can't say what I really think about people and situations. I may be blunt and brutaly honest, but at least I am tactful and take other people's feelings into consideration! Have I mentioned I hate my job? I don't especially like living in a house with another human being at the moment either, but I really do love my Geek and would be lost without him so I just apologize to him every day for being so prickly and angry about stuff. I'm just frustrated. Frustrated! I could SO easily become a hermit. I would LOVE to be a hermit! A lonely old witch living off in the woods by herself. I like alone. I like not quite right. I like silence and darkness. I like reading out loud. I like a bottle of SoCo and bad movies. I like wine and Mozart. I like vodka and punk. I like quilts and cats and books. I like soft grass and warm sun. I feel like I'm losing myself. I'm just overwhelmed, that's all. It happens about every 2 years. I'll get over it. Probably by drinking and writing and reading and being a little more me. My apologies to everyone who has to put up with my melodramatic ass.

my addiction

2008-03-21T21:00:00.006-05:00

Hello, my username on GoodReads.com is iammyself, and I'm addicted to books. I encourage all my friends (all 8 of you!) to also admit to this debilatating habit. Books have interfered with my work and personal life. Books made me neglect housekeeping and sleep. Books have made me go without food and eat things I shouldn't. Books have made me fall recklessly in love and thrown me into fits of rage. Books have been my crutch and my balm. I mix books with liquor sometimes and chocolate more often. I have feigned headaches to be allowed to finish a good book in peace.

Now I start a new chapter. I am going to try and catalog and then review what lines my bookshelves, rises in towers on my tables, desks, and dresser, rests in stacks on my spare room's floor, and hides beneath my bed. I will hold nothing back, I will show all my literary diet - even the smut and fluff and drivel. For we are what we read. I may not like my hair or my mouth and I might be self consicous about my various curves, but I will never be ashamed to lay bare my literary soul. Go look for yourself. I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours.

Edit: Ye gods! This is going to take forfuckingever! It's 2:20 am now and I'm only through the stacks of books that were lying WITHIN REACH OF THE DOOR on the floor of my spare room, plus a few that I just happened to come across on the site that I knew for certain that I read in my younger years. I'm not only addicted to books, I'm apparently addicted to listing books. How did this happen?! I have work to do this weekend! I have a boyfriend and a dog and other obligations and at least ten times this many more books to go through and list. And that's NOT even reviewing them or pulling out qoutes! What have I gotten myself into? If I disappear off the face of the earth just look behind the stacks of books on my coffee table and you'll find me slumped on the couch typing away... My fingers are actually locking up on my left hand! I've never had that happen before. I have to stop before I hurt myself. I'm going to bed - but I guarentee I'll be back at it tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow...

How long will I continue to talk about my birthday?

2008-03-06T13:56:00.012-05:00

With the truly wonderful way everyone treated me this past year (All year long, not just my birthday!) probably til next year.

I know I've said before how much I love having a Geek for a lover. (By the way, I have decided that 32 is too old to be calling the man that I have lived with for the past 7 or 8 years my "boyfriend.") This year for my birthday he proved, yet again, why I fell for him in the first place.

He came home late from work the night of my birthday carrying a balloon, (the 12 yr old who lives inside my head LOVES balloons!) a stuffed pony, (Again, the 12 yr old.) a bouquet of some of the sweetest smelling roses I ever had the pleasure to receive, the complete first season of Sex and the City, AND a set of paper party hats for our pets/children! Here's a breakdown of why these things he brought me mean so much to me:

A) Balloon: I just generally think it's cute when grown men carry them around. Not so much clowns or balloon salesmen, but a man dressed in a suit or work clothes carrying a single balloon just makes me giggle.

B) Stuffed pony: A little background is required here - I am a VERY tactile person. My Geek knows this and tends to spend an exorbitant amount of time (sometimes so much time he fears he might be asked to leave the store) searching through shelves of stuffed animals (Kinda like some sort of Mr. Whipple character) looking for the perfect soft - but not too soft, cute - but not too cutesy, one. Preferably with those little "bean bag" weighted feet. And his choice of a pony was fabulous.

C) Roses: Roses are not my favorite flower. One of my favorites? Yes. The thing is I like roses that REALLY smell like roses! Most times you find that store (Grocery or Wal-Mart) roses almost don't even have a smell or flower shop roses have that fake rose smell that you're pretty sure someone must have sprayed on. The thing that endears my Geek's choices of flowers to me most is the fact he has almost NO sense of smell. Therefore to find roses, or any flower, that smells the way he knows I like them he stands around sniffing bouquet after bouquet until something finally gets through to him. He proudly announced of my Birthday Roses - "I knew if I could smell them then they must be wonderful!"

D) Sex and the City: My Geek not only bought it for me, he actually enjoys sitting down and watching it with me. He actually shares laughs with me about how much certain characters remind us of certain people (even though there have been a few times we've had those uncomfortable moments where something hits a little close to home, but even those are funny.) How many men do you know that will actually share something that girly with you and NOT complain? Not many, I dare say, not damn many.

E) Paper Party Hats: Ok, not the best thing in the world normally, BUT when you get them to put on your pets it's absofuckinglutely hilarious! I love this man!

Now for the pictures you've ALL been waiting for!

The Legal Drinking Age for a Daddy's Girl?

2008-03-05T13:56:00.004-05:00

32! P.S. If you can see the dog in this picture have another beer!

I should have posted this MUCH earlier, but work & such really has kept me completely consumed. I realized this year how much I really have to be thankful for. All (8) of my friends called me to wish me Happy Birthday. Four of them sang. Mypregnantbestfriend made me a birthday cake. (Pictures of the edible delight will be posted as soon as I get them from said best friend.) My Daddy & my Mom both gave me great presents. The beer was from Daddy. It was fabulous! I took it home that evening and ate Archway Iced Oatmeal Cookies, drank some of my Birthday Beer and watched some Little House on the Prairie. I cried. Both because I was happy and because I was sad. It was good.

iamold

2008-02-28T10:39:00.003-05:00

It's official.
I'm old.
Today I turned 32.
The thing that makes me feel REALLY old though?
My Geek turned 30 this year.
I will never again fuck a guy in his 20s.
I have a feeling it's all downhill from here.
Is this why guys feel the need to try and pick up girls half their age?
I understand the urge.
But it doesn't make YOU any younger.
It actually only makes you seem even older.
I plan on aging gracefully.
No mid-life Cougar phase for this girl.
Just a Mustang, a tight pair of jeans, and a long bumpy road.

Carnations & Roses

2008-02-14T15:57:00.005-05:00

Carnations and Roses

Pink like my Toeses

southern martyr 02-14-08

My geek is wonderful - as only a geek can be. Happy Valentine's Day to all my nearest and dearest! I love you all. Especially MyPregnantBestFriend (and puppy) and MyBigStupidHero, friends make an unbearable world bearable - Thank you.

Writer's Block

2008-01-29T14:05:00.000-05:00

I've been TRYING to work today. I really have. I am suffering from writer's block. I have an ad due tomorrow and I can't come up with shit. I've got an image. I've got my layout. I've got a tagline, "Away From It All - Not Too Far Away." (Yeah, I know. I still can't get the taste of little fuzzy kitten out of my mouth from that one...) But I can't actually think of any verbage to use in the text body of the ad.

The hardest part is that I don't really care. So here's a tag I received from my PregnantBestFriend:

SCATTEGORIES...it's harder than it looks! Copy and paste into a new email. When you are done, send it on, including to the person who sent it to you. Use the 1st letter of your name to answer each of the following... they have to be real places, names, things...nothing made up! Try to use different answers if the person in front of you had the same 1st initial. (WHICH, BY THE WAY, IS HARD IF YOU ALREADY READ THEIR ANSWERS). You CAN'T use your name for the boy/girl.

1. What is your name: Southern Martyr (My real name starts with an "S" also. And it's NOT "Smartass.")

2. 4 letter word: Soul

3. Vehicle: Suburban

4. City: Seville (Spanish: Sevilla) in Spain

5. Boy's Name: Sam

6. Girl's Name: Sarah

7. Alcoholic drink: SoCo (Southern Comfort for all you unhip cats out there)

8. Occupation: Sex Worker

9. Something you wear: Sleeves

10. Celebrity: Sara Gilbert

11. Food: Swiss Cheese

12. Something found in a bathroom: Sink

13. Reason for Being Late: Sex

14. Cartoon character: Scrooge McDuck

15. Something You Shout: Seriously!

16. Animal: Swordfish

17. Body part: Shin

18. Word to describe you: Sullen

Go ahead, play instead of work! You know you want to!

Sometimes I Worry...

2008-01-25T15:06:00.000-05:00

I don't talk about my family very much here at Southern Martyr. Partly because I don't think anything short of a Tennessee Williams-esque 2,000 page novel bound in the hand cured hide of one of my father's prize heifers (dead from natural causes, of course) could possibly begin to do my family justice. And then my Pregnant Best Friend forwards me brief a news story from Britain and I realize that I am not alone. There are others out there who will grow up cringing and laughing in equal parts to tell their own stories. One day I will meet one of them and we will sit and talk about how our parents were such wonderful, creative, loving, friendly, intelligent, free spirits who were merely misunderstood when discovered to be building that tree house with retractable ladder and pulley system/secret mock castle with cannon/basement mad scientist laboratory/full size tee pee made from old tent material/doors to nowhere.

I worry that a link to this article will eventually disappear leaving no reminder of this news story which made me think immediately of my own family life (not exactly the same, but similar enough in some ways to make me worry - just a little), so I copied and pasted the article verbatim:

Farmer hides castle from building inspectors
By Peter Apps Fri Jan 25, 7:45 AM ET

LONDON (Reuters) - A farmer built an entire mock castle behind a screen of hay bales and lived there concealed for four years to evade planning regulations, officials said on Friday -- but it may be torn down anyway.

Robert Fidler hopes to take advantage of a provision of planning law that allows buildings without planning permission to be declared legal if no objections have been made after four years.

But Reigate and Banstead Borough Council in Surrey is not impressed.

"It does not count because the property was hidden behind hay bales," said a spokeswoman. "No one knew it was there."

The council wants the building near Redhill some 30 km south of London to be demolished, along with an associated conservatory, marquee structure, wooden bridge, patio, decking and tarmac racecourse.

"It looks like a mock-Tudor house from the front and it's got two turrets at the back," the spokeswoman said. "I understand there is also a cannon."

The couple would have been unlikely to get planning permission as the farm was in "green belt" land where building was restricted, she said. A hearing takes place in February.

Fidler's wife Linda told the Daily Mail newspaper the children grew up looking at straw out of the windows of the house and that they kept their son away from playschool on the day his class were due to do paintings of their houses.

"We couldn't have him drawing a big blue haystack," she said. "People might ask questions."

Planning inspectors had been called to the site by concerned neighbours shortly before Fidler took the hay bales down in summer 2006 but had not seen the house.

"When the inspectors went there, all they saw was hay bales and hay bales on agricultural land are not that unusual," the spokeswoman said.

"I think the neighbours thought there might be something going on but it is difficult to tell, isn't it?"

(Editing by Steve Addison)

I'd been in the middle of writing another post when Pregnant Best Friend emailed me this story and I HAD to post it straightway. This has inspired me to do a little writing. I hope that my father doesn't read this and get any ideas.

Actually, I take that back. I've wanted my very own stone tower in the woods for a very long time...

Mustang? Hell Yeah!

2008-01-10T14:54:00.001-05:00

I just came across THIS which states that the new KITT for the new made for TV Knight Rider movie is a Mustang! Hell Yeah! TransAms are for redneck pussies with little dicks. Mustangs are for girls who know how to drive stick and men who get girls who know how to drive stick.

I love this qoute: "Maintaining as much of the original beauty of the Shelby as possible was important—and not just because of the Ford connection. It had to be simple yet believable as a superhero."

Disclaimer: The above is my opinion. Only my opinion counts on this blog so if you disagree with me about this don't bother commenting, I will just delete it - unless of course you want everybody to know that you're a redneck pussy with a little dick...

New Year's Excuses

2008-01-10T14:03:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I haven’t been “blogging” much lately. There are a myriad of reasons – and most of them are personal character flaws.

#1 Work. Hell-a-shish! Weekends, evenings, writing content in my fucking sleep.
Character flaw associated with Work: Procrastination.

#2 Holidays. Suck. Wallowing took up a lot of my time this year, but I’m almost done.
Character flaw associated with Holidays: Self pity.

#3 Family. See #2. No box of Whitman’s chocolates from Daddy. I got a Christmas present from him, but it wasn’t Whitman’s box chocolates. What does he think I am – a 31 year old woman?! Plus the usual awkward Family Get Together bullshit. Although, I bet most of you didn’t pull up to your grandparents’ house Thanksgiving Day to see a Sheriff’s car parked out front.
P.S. The present I DID get from him was great & I really did NEED it. I am going to get out with the camera one day this next week and get some photos to put up on the old blog to show it off.
Character flaw associated with Family: Arrogance & self centeredness. I’m only listing my own character flaws here. If I listed all of my family’s flaws not only would the list be the longest blog entry I’ve ever typed (which is saying A LOT!) but it would also only serve to highlight my own arrogance & self centeredness by doing so.

#4 Pregnant Best Friend. Pregnant. This one is a good reason. I am spending as much time as possible making fun of - I mean - supporting her. (With boobs like that she needs all the support she can get).
Character flaw associated with Pregnant Best Friend: Vicarious living. Not so much a flaw as a survival technique.

So that’s my list of New Year’s Excuses. What’s yours?

Bubbles of Joy

2007-12-18T15:41:00.000-05:00

Mybestfriend is pregnant. I am so happy for her. She tried long and hard (haha) to get that way. Last night she called me to tell me that she felt the baby for the first time. She described it as "bubbles on your skin, but inside." She's sure it wasn't gas, she has become a certified Gas Expert recently. She was so giddy.

I enjoy being able to share this stuff with her. It's so fun. I was worried there for a little while (2.7 seconds, to be exact) that because I NEVER have wanted, currently do NOT want, and can NOT foresee wanting in the future a baby of my own, that one of two things would happen: A) I would suddenly desperately want a baby. B) Because I DIDN'T want a baby we would drift apart during what is probably the most interesting part of her life. Thankfully, neither has happened! She says my biological clock goes Vroom! Vroom! instead of Tick! Tock! (I ended up wanting a 2005 Mustang, desperately). AND, I think I was the first person she called when she felt the baby last night. Now that may not be a big deal to some people, but it meant the world to me. She has continued to put up with my good natured mockery and my baby cooty phobia when normal people would have turned their back on me and started knitting baby booties with their happily married parent friends. Thank the gods for friends that you can live vicariously through!

Ya Think?!

2007-12-11T10:28:00.000-05:00

MyBigStupidHero gave me an award yesterday! You know, I haven't gotten an award since Hiwassee College when my Social(ist) Studies professor gave me the "Walks to the Beat of Their Own Drummer" award. It was an award he made up probably because I was the only person in his class who understood that to debate an issue you didn't have to actually be willing to die for the side you were advocating. The ironic thing about receiving the "Walks to the Beat of Their Own Drummer" award: I tripped walking off the stage.

I think this "Little Nutty" award is my favorite award ever! It might even rank above the first place Poetry ribbon I won at Roane State my Junior year of highschool. "Why does this particular award make me so happy?" you ask? Because when someone with a screw loose awards you as being "A Little Nutty" then the Nuttyness factor is increased exponentially!

I am tagging my BestestFriendInTheWholeWideWorld with this Nutastic award! Pregnancy is making her crazier by the day.

New Things

2007-11-30T10:51:00.000-05:00

I have added a couple of new links to the decor. I never take change lightly (I am Southern after all) so the two links I added this morning are very intergral pieces of my life that I am very glad to be able to share with complete strangers.

The first new link will take the unwitting traveler to the blog home of my bestest friend in the whole wide world. There are a million reasons why she is my best friend and there were a million reasons why it has taken her this long to allow me to link to her. Almost all of those reasons are deeply embarrassing to someone... However, after months of anonymity she has agreed to come out of the shadows and be seen by the unwashed masses that devour my every word. I attribute this change to her getting knocked up recently. Apparently pregnancy has the same effects on her judgement as drinking. Go check her out - she's already putting her hands on peoples arms when she talks to them and saying things like "I'm sorry" & "I love you." By the end of the next trimester she'll be starting fights and dancing on the table...

The second link I added will transport you to quiet possibly the funniest comic ever. I think I find it so heartrendingly funny because it seems to me to be the doodles in the margins of the script of my life. So funny, so true, and you don't always understand them - but you always know someone who would. There are days when this comic makes me laugh so hard I have to call someone and tell them how much I appreciate having them in my life.

My friends won't leave me alone!

2007-11-20T14:38:00.001-05:00

Blog meme - Fifty questions.

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
“Gonna have to wear barrettes today…”

2. How much cash do you have on you?
$18 and lots of dimes for some reason.

3. What’s a word that rhymes with DOOR?
Roar.

4. Favorite planet?
Pluto. And there’s not a damn thing some smug, son of a bitch, scientist can do to change it!

5. Who is the 4th person on your missed call list on your cell phone?
Mom.

6. What is your favorite ring tone on your phone?
The one that sounds like an old rotary dial phone ringing. I can’t be bothered to have any of them new fangled music ringtones that those young whippersnappers use.

7. What shirt are you wearing?
Pink long sleeved blouse with vivid red, pink, blue, yellow, and green flowers embroidered on it.

8. Do you label yourself?
Probably, but not consciously. Do warning labels count?

9. Name the brand of the shoes you’re currently wearing?
American Eagle.

10. Bright or Dark Room?
Dark. Pitch Black if possible.

11. What do you think about the person who took this survey before you?
Diane is my best friend. I think she’s smart and brave and funny and has “issues.” One of those issues is a problem displaying or coping with deep emotion. “I love you Diane!” hahahahaha. Take that, bitch!

12. What does your watch look like?
What watch? What, do I have to be somewhere? Why are you always trying to “confine” me? Leave me alone!

13. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Sleeping quietly with my cat Jack.

14. What did your last text message you received on your cell say?
Night. I love you.

15. Where is your nearest 7-11?
ACTUAL 7-11? I think there’s one in Athens. We have a “corner store” (BP) in Riceville less than a mile from my house.

16. What's a word that you say a lot?
"Seriously” is MY word. My best friend answered this question with “Seriously,” but it’s MY word. It has been since High School. Seriously.

17. Who told you he/she loved you last?
My Hal.

18. Last furry thing you touched?
My kitty, Jack. I love him. We played tag under the closet door this morning while I was getting ready for work.

19. How many drugs have you done in the last three days?
None. Unless you count caffeine or hard liquor. In which case, I have had as follows: Two cups of coffee every morning, four cups of coffee at the board meeting Tues, and a shot(s) of SoCo the other night with some chocolate and a good book.

20. How many rolls of film do you need developed?
None. My Hal has a digital camera. We do have a ton of photos to get off memory sticks though.

21. Favorite age you have been so far?
Twenty-three.

22. Your worst enemy?
Real or imaginary? Just kidding. It’s my ex-husband.

23. What is your current desktop picture?
My black, long haired, Cycloptic kitty, Jack.

24. What was the last thing you said to someone?
”I’d do that for a hundred dollars.”

25. If you had to choose between a million bucks or to be able to fly what would it be?
A million bucks. There’s lots of stuff I CAN do and no time to enjoy it. A million bucks would go a long way towards enabling me to have the free time to enjoy the skills and dreams I have already.

26. Do you like someone?
Yes. Let’s see… 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… hmm, 6 seems to be the limit of people I don't hate at the moment.

27. The last song you listened to?
”Lebanese Blonde” by Thievery Corporation.

28. What time of day were you born?
3:15pm

29. What’s your favorite number?
Seven.

30. Where did you live in 1987?
In Riceville, in the first house my father ever built. I had a door to Nowhere in my room. I was 11 years old.

31. Are you jealous of anyone?
I don’t think so. Diane would be the only person that might occasionally instill jealousy in me. As long as you can live vicariously through your friends the jealousy never seems to last but a moment... She may end up with a beautiful little baby, but the fact that I won’t have to shoot something bigger than a breadbox out of my body also serves to reassure me that I’m not missing out. I don’t see it as jealousy; I see it as forced perspective.

32. Is anyone jealous of you?
I don’t think so. Diane might be in about 71/2 months… and then again in about 13 years.

33. Where were you when 9/11 happened?
I was in my truck driving to work when I heard.

34. What do you do when vending machines steal your money?
Curse it, literally. You might not want to use the one outside the food court at Hamilton Place.

35. Do you consider yourself kind?
Yes. I am soft hearted, yet I hate people. When I’m kind to you (and I will be…very) I’m actually testing the phrase “kill them with kindness.” I have a theory about it being a culminative effect…

36. If you had to get a tattoo, where would it be?
The small of my back.

37. If you could be fluent in any other language, what would it be?
French. If this is just wishful thinking, then I would really like to learn Hindi but considering I can barely read French (and I took that class for 3 years) it will probably just stay wishful thinking…

38. Would you move for the person you loved?
Eh. Maybe. I’m melodramatic. I would probably just let them leave and then wither away from a broken heart.

39. Are you touchy feely?
Yes. Especially if I’m drunk or happy.

40. What’s your life motto?
When a dog runs at you, whistle for him – Henry David Thoreau

41. Name three things that you have on you at all times?
My silver Buddha charm, my cat ear cuff, and the memory of my dead brother.

42. What’s your favorite town/city?
The city of Agra in India. It is home to the Taj Mahal (the largest erection ever inspired by a woman).

43. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
Sparkly colored bindis so I could play dress up with my friend Crystal’s little girl, Emily.

44. When was the last time you wrote a letter to someone on paper and mailed it?
Last year.

45. Can you change the oil on a car?
Yes. I can also hot wire a car, start a car that has a bad solenoid by shorting it out with a screwdriver, and I have been known to be able to jimmy the lock on my truck in under 1 minute.

46. Your first love: what is the last thing you heard about him/her?
Bipolar-Born Again Christian-homeless-alcoholic. Pretty sure most of that is my fault (especially since I cursed him). Well, all except the Bipolar part, that’s the reason he was my FIRST not my last. Amendment: Part of the credit/fault should go to a friend of mine. (she gets her nose out of joint if you don't acknowledge her help) Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a Catholic virgin to help you perform a hex?

47. How far back do you know about your ancestry?
I had a great uncle who did all that stuff all the way back to my Scotch-German ancestors who came over and fought in the Revolutionary War. To be quiet honest, I’m not having any children so I figure that a vague knowledge plus the family rumors I’ve gleaned over the years will be all I really want to know.

48. The last time you dressed fancy, what did you wear and why did you dress fancy?
Last week for my Best Friend’s hoity toity fund raiser at the Museum.

49. Does anything hurt on your body right now?
The arches of my feet ache a little from bellydance class.

50. Have you been burned by love?
Yes. By love, for love, same difference.

My friends ARE more important than my work - REALLY.

2007-11-16T12:46:00.000-05:00

Quite a while ago I was tagged with a request to tell a little something about a good friend of mine on his blog. Now, I've been REALLY crazily busy at work and the holidays make my head implode, so I was really ashamed that I did not even realize I had been tagged until this past Monday (nigh on a two weeks since I was originally tagged). This friend was none other than MyBigStupidHero. I posted my brief bit of intimate information in the comments of his post, however I have since been riddled with guilt at the fact that the piddly ass every day crap in my life had reduced me to ignoring my friends' ramblings. I have spent the last little bit of my lunch poking around the interweb catching up with my friend's lives. I am making myself get off my ass and spend some time with them also. Tonight I am going over to my friend Crystal's house and playing dress up with her 3 1/2 year old - Emily. I even bought sparkly little bindis for her to wear since she liked mine so much the last time we were out. ANYWAY... the point of this long diatribe is that I've let my life eclipse MY LIFE. And I'm done. No more!

I am including in this post my observations on MyBigStupidHero as well as two of my favorite memories of him. Here they are - Nothing fancy, just me recalling somethings that still make me smile and/or cringe:

Observations on my friend Big Stupid Tommy:

Tommy IS a giant.
Should it ever come down to Tommy in his underwear throwing boulders from a hilltop versus villagers with torches and pitchforks Tommy would win. Hands down. Every time.

Tommy is NOT stupid.
Tommy is probably the smartest man I know.
He is intelligent, well read, and a joy to talk with.

Now for some quirks which always make me smile:
Upon being handed a book Tommy will open it up and smell it.
Tommy HATES red licorice.
Tommy dives into water like a grizzly bear.
Tommy performs a very nice underwater handstand.
Tommy has slept sitting upright in a chair.
Tommy does not use straws.
Tommy’s kill command is “Fennel.”
Tommy will tolerate Diane and myself when anyone else would run away screaming with bleeding ear drums or collapse into a catatonic stupor.
And though this will undoubtedly embarrass him… I have always thought that with his kind heart, wonderful wit, boundless loyalty, and quiet demeanor he has an air of the romantic hero about him.

My friend Tommy.
I took way too long to find out I’d been tagged with this request to share a little of my insight into the Big Stupid which is Tommy. I apologize for the delay. I will attempt to make amends by sharing things that others may not know about our mutual friend. For those of you who have never had the pleasure of meeting the Tommy in person let me say Big Stupid Tommy is an impressive man. He stands well over 6’ tall and is a very reassuring presence to have on your side in dark alleys or impromptu wrestling matches. I would like to share two stories to illustrate this fact and illuminate a little of the personality which is Big Stupid Tommy:

One time, long ago on a very drunken night at a Con in Atlanta (I don’t remember which one) our good friend Tommy had paid for the hotel room with his credit card and then we had all pitched in cash to repay him. Sometime during the evening it came to our attention from the front desk that our room had to pay a very small amount either to make a phone call or to pay for a call or something… Anyway, Thomas explains politely over the phone that they have his credit card information on file, just add this expense to the bill. The dumbass at the front desk says “We can’t do that.” Thomas tries gallantly to explain the concept of room billing and the magical properties of credit cards, but alas the front desk insists that cash in an amount of less than $3.00 is required of our Big Stupid friend. Thomas then proceeds to gather the exact amount required in the form of loose change procured from the various inhabitants of our room. Our esteemed friend then pours all the change into a sock (yes my friends - a sock, which may or may not have been clean) and ventures down to the front desk to pay his fee. I, of course am dying to see what happens and request to go with him. He, being ever the gentleman, allows me to accompany him, even though I am thoroughly intoxicated and a bit of a hindrance at this point. We arrive at the front desk and to my delight Thomas dumps the change out of the mens sports sock and onto the counter in front of the stunned clerk. I was too delighted by this in my inebriated state to notice all the nuances that occurred, but I do remember the look of embarrassed horror and slight fear on the desk clerk. I believe there had to be another clerk brought from the backroom and it seems to my memory that Tommy loomed over the counter until they had counted every last smelly penny and nickel. He then turned and regally departed for the elevator. I am loving every moment of this spectacle to the point I believe I even bounced up and down and clapped my hands (I am known to do this when drunk) However, when the elevator reaches our floor and the doors swing open they reveal to my utter horror that we are BETWEEN floors! Now it wasn’t like the hallway floor was beyond our reach or that we could see duct work and wiring, but there was distinctly a large amount of space that one should NOT be able to see when one arrives at their floor. I froze. I was terrified. Every movie I’ve ever seen that involved elevators flashed through my drunken mind. I turn stuttering to my Big Stupid Hero. He doesn’t not let me down. He simply says “Yeah, I know. That’s weird, let’s just get out.” I’m not sure, but I think I made him hold my hand as I stepped UP into the hotel hallway. Now granted, I was drunk, and I am me, so things seem more drastic than they are sometimes, but that is one of the many times I have been thankful to have Thomas as my friend, by my side.

Now for the flip side of having Big Stupid Tommy as a personal friend:

Once, long ago, on a summer afternoon at my place of employment our hero Thomas was busy doing some freelance work (I think he was helping me clean out the storage room - for a fee) Now on this particular day there were two small kittens running amuck in our office. (Don’t ask. It’s enough to know that there were two small kittens.) We turned our backs for a few minutes and found that one of the little furballs had squeezed back behind the large metal heat and air contraption in the corner of the room. I could see it. I could touch it with my fingertips. I went to pull the little booger out and realized to my sickening horror that my arm was stuck. Now, you have to realize this all happened very quickly… My arm is pinned behind a huge piece of metal work. I am sitting crouched on the floor panicking. I look up and see my Big Stupid Hero standing over me looking quizzical. I reach my arm out towards him and say “Help me! I’m stuck!” Then in a flash I see Thomas as a looming giant, his large hand reaching towards me ready to swallow my shaking fingers in his vice-like grip. I am now frantic. All I can picture is one good tug from him popping my arm right off my shoulder. I can actually see him standing above me puzzledly looking at my disembodied arm held in front of him as I scream in pain and then faint dead away. Suddenly I am giggling up at him and stammering “No! No! It’s alright! I’ll get out. Really. Don’t touch me!” I manage to free myself clumsily and after great frantic effort, but that feeling of absolute panic and vulnerability still creeps into my nightmares some nights.

Tag! My friends think I have "free time"

2007-10-03T14:58:00.000-05:00

My BigStupidHero tagged me with a Big Stupid Music meme just to be mean. So here it goes...

What music are you currently grooving to?

Tsiftetelli by The Toids (This is the song my bellydance class performed, with slightly different choreography, for our class recital.)

I picked this particular video of this song because, A.) I can't find an actual video for the song on YouTube and B.) It comes closer than any other choreography I saw to the level of "skill" (I use that term loosely when I apply it to myself) our class exhibited during our bellydance "class recital." This is not to say these girls aren't great, but what they do "drunk/hopped up on cold medicine" is what I can strive to claim stone cold sober on a good day.

What, if push comes to shove, is your all-time favourite album?

Are You Experienced - Jimi Hendrix

I couldn't choose at first, but then I remembered how much I loved this album during my formative years. I can, and did, listen to it over and over and over. I know, it explains alot doesn't it.

What was the first record you ever bought? And where did you buy it?

I can't believe I'm actually going to admit this...
Hangin' Tough - New Kids on the Block

I had other tapes, but this was the first one I can remember actually buying with my own money. Sad, but true.

Which musician have you ever wanted to be?

Joan Jett!

Now I am adding my own variation of this question, because when I first read that last question I thought it said "Which musician have you ever wanted to be WITH?" and I had two or three answers I thought of right off the bat and it's a shame to waste them. So here we go:

Which musician have you ever wanted to be WITH?

1. Henry Rollins - I fell for him the first time I heard him on a Black Flag album and never looked back. Damn. He's still top of my list in his mid forties and his button down shirt. Damn, I say. I'm sorry, what was the question?

2. Nuno - What can I say? Great fingers on a pretty pretty man. mmmmmm.... Nuno!

What do you sing in the shower?

Dead or Alive - You Spin Me Round

Now you can sing it too! Go ahead, you know you want to.

What is your favourite Saturday night record?

Okay, I don't know what this means... and neither did the person who Tagged me. I'm gonna put my own interpretation on this and go with "Saturday night record" as "Make Out Album." So here I'm linking to my Favorite Make Out Album, because I can.

The Southern Harmony & Musical Companion - The Black Crowes

I don't know why but there's just something about that whole album that's just always made me feel warm and loose, could've been the Southern Comfort...

And your Sunday morning record?

Okay, I really don't know what the hell this means, but again I am going to choose my own interpretation... I'm going to say it means your "Makes You Feel Like You've Found Religion Album." So here's mine.

Mule Variations - Tom Waits

"Cold Water" is my favorite song off that album. My favorite line from any song ever written is in that song: "I found an old dog and it seems to like me..."

Well, there it is - My musical soul laid bare. You might want to go wash out your ears. Because of extenuating circumstances, my best friend does not allow outside links to her super secret personal blog. Soooo, I am going to tag her via email instead of calling the bitch out in public like she needs. If it's really embarrassing I'll be sure to share a little of it.

Stardust

2007-08-16T08:43:00.000-05:00

Went to see Stardust last night with my BigStupidHero. I don't have time for my usual page long wandering and ranting so I'll make a few quick observations...

First and foremost: Go See this Movie! Seriously. This is one of those few in a lifetime just plain old GOOD movies. Don't pussy around and miss seeing it in the theaters.

Second and secondmost: I cringed at the "Princess Bride" comparisons I have heard bandied about the last few weeks. Princess Bride is my favorite movie of all time and I did not want to set my hopes that high and then resent a perfectly good movie for failing to meet my ridiculously high benchmark. I beat my inner child into submission and went to see Stardust with that wonderful ability of mine to completely wipe my mind blank on demand. At the end of the movie I was left sitting in the dark and quiet when suddenly in the back corner of my mind my twelve year old self cried out; "It was! It was! I told you it could happen!" For the first time in years I didn't reprimand her out loud for her impertinence.

Third and thirdmost: There are parts that are different. It has been nigh on a decade or more since I read the book. I intentionally did NOT reread it before seeing the movie. Again I was protecting myself against disappointment. I know there were things, they are nudging me from my peripheral consciousness. This has only served to make me want to reread the book. I do NOT think the book will make me love the movie less or visa versa. There are things that must be done to make things fit in a reasonable movie time limit. I think this should be held out as a beautiful example of doing so without losing the "good bits."

Fourth and fourthmost: My BigStupidHero stated drolly as the credits rolled; "I believe that Ricky Gervais could take a shit on the floor and I would find it the funniest damn thing I'd ever seen." I can go on a page long explanation of why Gervais amazes me, but I will not. I will simply say that there was not a throw away part in this movie. Every piddly ass character given screen time was wonderful. Gervais stole his scenes effortlessly even sharing it with a personal favorite of mine: Robert DeNiro. And let me say this... I worried when DeNiro strode through his first scene. I thought "what the hell is he doing? it seems so over the top, so unnatural, so overacted! why?! shit, don't let DeNiro ruin this for me. please ye gods not DeNiro, I LIKE him!" I should never have doubted him. I beg forgiveness. He stole my heart yet again, this time all the sweeter for the doubting. Even the goat made me smile... until he... well that was just... I'm still not sure what I think about that.

Lastly and hindmost: This movie restored my faith in movies. What George Lucas strangled slowly and painful to death, Stardust breathed the breath of life into. (Lord of the Rings doesn't count as restoring my faith in movies as I was still in the anger stage of grief and could not bring myself to love again...yet.)

I end my review with one word and if that one word does not sway you then you are a vapid heartless cold cruel horrible person with no redeeming qualities whatsoever.

UNICORN!

Where's my angry elephant when I need it!?

2007-08-06T12:49:00.000-05:00

Edit:
I have decided that I need to include a mood indicator on my posts kinda as a warning system of some sort...
The forecast for this post is: Overcast early on with a 90% chance of nihilism and scattered rage storms by late afternoon.

I hate working in a public building with a public bench directly outside my very old and very uninsulated window. In this old building the windows are anything but sound proof and if you happen to sit outside my window and speak in anything other than a conspiratorial whisper I can and will hear abso-fucking-lutely everything you say. And being the horribly judgemental hateful person I am I will most likely repeat it verbatim to anyone who might remotely find it interesting, pathetic, funny, or instructive. I found the conversation of a thirty-something mother who sat on my bench this afternoon to be ALL those things and more, so I thought I would post it in it's entirety. The following occurred precisely as I've recorded for your reading pleasure (the bits in quotation marks are spoken into a cell phone):

No.
Sit here.
No.
You will sit here and you will stay here.
No.
One way or another you will learn to sit here and you will learn to obey.
Stop.
No.
Sit.
Stop.
Stop.

"No.
I have to stay here because they won’t behave."

Sit.

"What?
What?
Well, alright."

You will learn to listen
You will learn to behave
One way or another you will learn
The hard way or the nice way
Are you guys gonna sit down and behave?
No?
Sit down.

"He doesn’t want to sit.
He won’t sit on the bench like he’s supposed to.
He just wants to kick things."

You will sit.
Why are your shoes off?

"He will learn to behave."

You’ll be sorry.
Sit.
Sit.
Be quiet.
Stop it.

"Oh my god, these kids."

Stop it now.
Now.
Quit.

"*muttering *… you would of thought.
Uh-oh."

Stop.
You’re a naughty boy.

"I don’t know."

Say please.
No.
Alright babies, be good!

"I can't go back in, they won't behave."

No.
You can't you back in.
Only good kids get to go in there.
They don't want you.
You have to sit.
Sit.
No.
No.
Behave.
Sit.
Be quiet.

"I have to go.
They won't behave."

Stop it.
Stop it.
There’s no reason to cry.
Aw fudge! (That's right folks, she won't curse in front of the little bundles of joy God blessed her with. Probably because it would be unChristian to do so. Just a guess on the motive there, but I'd be willing to lay down money on it.)
You listen!
Stop.
Sit.
Sit.
No.
No.
Be quiet.
Stop it.
Get to the car.

That's it. That's the conversation this wonderfully charming person carried on with, and about, her babies. I did not leave anything out, except for the bit that was muttered, and that certainly wasn't uplifting and caring sounding by the tone. Speaking of tone, almost all of this was delivered at conversational volume in an almost monotone, as though she had said this a kajillion times. The two children, one boy and one girl both under the age of 3-4 years old, took turns crying, quietly and persistently, throughout this 15 minute ordeal. When I stepped outside an hour later to leave work I spotted something sitting on the bench under my window. A solitary cheap white plastic cigarette lighter. I feel sorry for the woman, and even sorrier for the kids. Yet, wait, ...no. No I don't. Fuck 'em. I chose not to have children and will die a lonely old witch, so I say "That's what you get for fucking without thinking!" Sure the miserable little tykes will end up paying for their parents horrible judgement, but really don't we all... So yeah, fuck 'em. I hate people and the people who turn them turn into the people I hate.

A View of the Death of Hustle on a Perfect Southern Summer Evening

2007-07-12T12:03:00.000-05:00

My bigstupidhero was gracious enough to allow me to accompany him to a bashball game last night. The evening weather was absolutely fabulous! It had rained ALL day, right up to the start of the game, so it had stayed cool and didn't even turn steamy once the rain ended like it does sometimes down round these parts. The sun hid behind the clouds and I only had to shield my eyes through part of one early inning. My Big Stupid Hero only asked one favor of me the whole evening; "Could you do something about that sun?" Alas, this heroine lacked sufficient strength in her pointer finger to push the offending orb below the mountain horizon. I still think I should get points for effort though, which brings me to the point of this post... I watched Hustle die a slow and painful death on a perfect southern summer evening. Early on the visiting team hit a couple of home runs. Now, I can't play ball worth a flip, so I my love of sports (bashball in particular) is a very observational one. I love to watch the pivot and arc of a player REALLY swinging for a ball, whether he hits it or not often times doesn't matter to me. I do root for favorite teams, but I am a fickle and easily swayed fan and tend to care more for the effort a team puts into their season than the wins. So those first few home runs curving away over the outfield made me happy. I foolishly thought the old Lookouts would step up and refuse to be outdone and I would be treated to a rare evening of repeated long balls over the back fence or at least of players hustling to play a game like that. Alas. As the evening slid leisurely past the home town team seemed to slow more and more, become looser and less interested in their own game. Now I realize they are a Double A minor league team and they get paid squat and I don't expect a World Series level passion and effort, but after months of playing in dry horrendously hot southern summer drought weather I expected a certain pep, a certain joyeux de vie, brought about by the cool evening breeze, the overcast sky which had been washed clean of dust, pollen and cynicism, and the crack of bat against ball sounding out like a heavy gauntlet thrown down upon the water sparkled outfield grass. Alas. In the latter innings there was a loose ball, I believe it was a pop up foul, but I was so surprised by the following moments that I can't remember exactly what led up to them... The catcher goes to throw the ball to third base to make an out (which, unless I'm a truly horrible judge of distance he should have been able to make) when suddenly I am left wondering where the third baseman is. Then I realize that the player I thought was the shortstop just standing there at the edge of my peripheral vision is indeed the third baseman. For a moment I flashback to the images of my little brother's long and unremarkable T-Ball career. The kids standing feet wide apart, arms hanging limp, over sized gloves dangling from fingertips, and heads tipped skyward pondering the imponderables of a perfect southern summer evening with no school the next day...

I found that not even the death of Hustle could make me sad on such a perfect southern summer evening spent talking with a dear friend and knowing that what little sleep I do manage to grab before getting up and going back to work will be the sleep of a girl I used to be many years ago when it didn't matter which team the little boy played for we were all just glad someone finally hit a ball and that the weird boy pulled his finger out of his nose long enough to throw that ball halfway back towards first base with all his might.

Go Ahead and Scoff

2007-06-26T15:14:00.000-05:00

86%

Maybe if it's not too big a waste of ammo, I'll shoot you in the head when the Zombies really do show up. This has always been one of my biggest fears. Hell, it might just be my biggest fear if I really own up to it. I'm sure it's a phobia of some sort since it is rather unrealilistc. See, I admit it. The possibility is very slim. But we'll just see who ends up a drooling walking corpse when the time comes. You tell me if Mad Cow Diease isn't just a cover up for rare cases of spontaneous Zombieism. I have my cast iron ladle and I know how to use it!

What the Fuck?

2007-06-25T13:54:00.000-05:00

I was NOT surprised (much) to find that my blog merited a NC-17 rating. I was however surprised by WHAT merited such a rating!

This is what displayed directly below my rating after I submitted my site:

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:
shit (9x)
ass (8x)
fucking (3x)
steal (2x)
masochist (1x)

Ok, I admit, I'm a bit of a potty mouth when left to my own devices. But can anyone tell me why MASOCHIST is on that list? I don't even think I used it in a sexual context, though truth be told a little spanking is always appreciated. And STEAL? What the hell people?!

Now for a story...
When I was a young girl I lived on a farm. On this farm we had a dozen cows, a few chickens, and an ass. It was my chore to muck out the barn every day after school. It was very hard work. The cows weren't too bad, as they usually stayed outside, but the ass slept in the barn every night. One day after shoveling ass shit from a barn stall, I wandered over to the hen house to steal their eggs off their nests for breakfast the next morning. On my way I passed two of the cows fucking. It looked uncomfortable. I figured the heifer had to be a masochist to enjoy that. Right then some ass fucking moral majority piece of shit decided to steal my right to free speech and he actually thought I would roll over and take it like some masochist bitch. I killed him and wrote this story using his petrified dick and a pint of his own blood.

Parts of this story are fictional, but not all of it. You decide which is which.
And Always Remember Kiddies - Words Don't Mean Shit!

Generation Gap

2007-06-07T14:08:00.000-05:00

I was forced by my Bestest Friend in the Whole Wide World to buy new shoes recently. I absolutely fell in love with them. They spoke to the outcast in me. The girl who would refuse to speak for days at a time and thought drowning herself a suitable escape plan from the hell of school in Podunk, USA. The poet who killed and perished between lines. The punk who wore combat boots to work in the kitchen of her own restaurant where she would sleep in the booths at night rather than drive home. The elegantly melancholy ghost who dabbled in l'amour with blonde haired hippies whose fingers could play anything, pool playing Jeep driving good ol' boys, wicked wiccans, and punk rock drummers who rolled their cigarette packs up in their shirt sleeves. The woman who still takes her coffee how she leaves her men; dark & bitter.

I manage to forget my own age until something I take for granted is challenged. And so it happened. When I showed off my kick ass - ass kickers the first reaction I got was "Those are great Pirate shoes!" Pirate shoes?, I asked in astonishment. What? I have long lusted after Pirate shoes, those beautiful soft leather boots that loosely encircle your thighs like a lover. These shoes were NOT Pirate shoes! They were Punk shoes! They were kick your ass sexy irrelevant PUNK skull and crossbones shoes! Dammit all to Hell the thought NEVER crossed my mind... Pirate shoes, pfffft. As if. Though I lust after Johnny Depp with every other woman who felt those first vague stirrings while watching 21 Jump Street, I would never look at these shoes - my PUNK, Cyndie Lauperish, pointy toed, pieces of footwear perfection, that I would have gladly worn to see Henry Rollins perform back in the 90's - and think "Cool sparkly fingernail polish, LOL, Avril is soooo much cooler than Ashlee, teenage angst shoes!" When did it happen that my anti-establishmentarian hieroglyph become some banal Walt Disney trademarked rub-on tatoo!? When did the irreverant become the endorsed? I'm done. I need a couple of swigs straight from the old SoCo bottle to restore my faith in the world. Shit. Henry Rollins now does stand up. The whole thing is beyond me some days.

Genius!

2007-04-20T14:35:00.000-05:00

I had one of those lightning strike moments of pure genius last night at 3 o'clock in the morning! (Which, by the way, is what time the Geek stumbled in after going bowling after work with all the other little Geeks) We were talking and I was confused because I couldn't remember what day of the week it was (Which, now that I think about it, was probably brought on by the fact that it was IN FACT technically Friday when I was trying to talk to my Geek about what had gone on during my day and what my plans were for tomorrow while in point of fact my "today" had become "yesterday" and my "tomorrow" had become "today," and I had consumed endless amounts of coffee for nigh on a week now...) Anyway, I was struck instantly by the idea that my life would be soooo much easier to keep track of if the work week only consisted of 4 Tuesdays and a Friday. Then, whenever I said anything to anyone what required a "day" reference I would have a much much higher probability of getting it right. If for some reason I got it wrong and some smart ass corrected me it would sound something like this: "What the hell are you talking about, it's Friday not Tuesday!" Then instead of thinking what a know-it-all little smart ass the person is I just think "Shit, it's Friday already, yahhh!" So that's what I want 4 Tuesdays, 1 Friday, and 2 Saturdays (so I never suddenly realize that it's Sunday when I thought it was Saturday and still had half a weekend to get shit done around the house) I think Franklin Covey should make day planner pages like that. I'd use them in a heartbeat! Well, that's it, my brilliant idea...

Destruction

2007-04-16T14:17:00.000-05:00

I've been meaning to write an entry, even if it's just some stupid little piddly piece of fluffy kitten vomit, but I've said I'm too busy, too tired, too far gone in my own deep dark spring time induced little grey funk to be able to muster something so pointless as a blog entry.

Bull shit.

I'm officially getting the fuck over it.

Here goes:

Last Friday I awoke late way too early, did my entire bathroom routine in the dark (the fluorescent bulbs my Geek has replaced all my nice 25 watt bulbs with is WAY too bright some mornings so I just get dressed in the dark... which explains alot, I know) feed all the whiny needy defective pets I have, couldn't find the mate to one of my favorite shoes, had to wear my crappy black flats instead, and was heading out the door late way too early, when I spotted a note. Written in black Sharpie on a blank piece of what I still refer to as "Typing Paper" was the following:

Hey Sweetie,
I hope these make your day a little "sweeter!"

Kisses -- *My Geek*

The note was weighted down by a Dark Chocolate Orange (you know the big round orange liqueur flavored chocolates you whack on the table and break apart the little segments to eat) and a can of Mango Juice. Let's just say that at 3pm while drinking that heavenly nectar and lingering over my dark chocolate fix I cried because I was so lucky.

Today as I write this, I am safe and sound at my job, and my best friend is safe and sound at her job, and my Geek is safe and sound at his job, and my parents are safe and sound at their home and jobs, and that is enough to make me cry just a little bit.

When the world is as stupid and pointlessly violent and ignorant as it is today and everyday for all it's history sometimes you have to be a little self indulgent just to feel anything at all...

You can't change Time, you can only change your Mind

2007-03-14T14:37:00.000-05:00

This whole "Spring Forward" time change shit is ridiculous. I realize that I hate change and I do claim anarchist tendencies, but I can't be the only one who thinks this is some sort of conspiracy or perhaps a social experiment. I mean, I try to get my boss to think it's 4:30pm when it's really just 3:30 so...

Seriously! Why, if it REALLY matters, can't we just change what time we go to work, school, and church. I wouldn't mind going into work an hour earlier if I could leave an hour earlier.

I think that my solution is just as valid and arbitrary as theirs (whoever "they" are). I say lets start a petition. Leave the fucking clocks alone! Just get your ass out of bed earlier. It's what you're being forced to do against your will anyway. STRIP AWAY THE ILLUSION! You aren't going to work at 9am, you're being FORCED to show up an hour early. I say tell the world the ugly truth! We're all just stumbling along like some sort of jet lagged zombie. Sleeeeep. Sleeeeep. Must have sleeeep...

LEAVE THE FUCKING CLOCKS ALONE, THEY'RE RIGHT ALREADY! THERE'S NOTHING "WRONG" WITH THEM!
STRIP AWAY THE ILLUSION!
FREE YOURSELF FROM THE TIME FASCISTS!

work when you want, sleep when you want, play when you want, and fuck the fascist pigs who try to control society in the most piddly ass ways imaginable

Being a grown up sucks

2007-03-12T13:21:00.000-05:00

I've had no time to do ANYTHING! Except work, read, take long baths, walk the dog, clean the house, burn a brush pile, celebrate the time change with sex, plant flowers, belly dance, and pack for a business trip. As you can tell, blogging ranks down towards the bottom of my "To Do" list. I have been reading alot lately, and as soon as I can make myself put a book down for any length of time I will post some of the fabulous little tidbits that I've discovered. I have done a tiny bit of writing and maybe, perhaps, I might consider posting some of my drafts of poems... maybe.

Today's Trivia:

a group of cats is called a clutter.

You can call my dog an idiot whether he's in a group or not.

That is my dog, J, ready to go out in the rain. I have to love him because my father and my geek tell me I have to. He's high strung, high maintanence, allergic to everything, and refuses to piss in the rain. Some women attract loser boyfriends, I attract damaged pets. I guess it could be worse.

Good books and good friends...

2007-03-01T11:23:00.000-05:00

I just realized something for the first time today. I always knew it as fact, but I never truly appreciated it the way I should... It was one of those things you just take for granted.

I have friends that buy me books!

Not those kind of "friends" who hear you go on and on about a book that you've been dying to read and then go out and buy it for you, nor am I talking about the type of "acquaintance" who simply buys you a book because it was on Oprah's book club or the New York Times Best Seller List. I am talking about the type of friend who reads a book and goes "Wow, that was great, I bet So-and-So would get a kick out of that one..." I am talking about the type of friend who wants to share their favorite author with you. I am talking about the type of friend who looks at some book they would never read in a million years, unless it was the ONLY book on a desert island and the natives said "Read book 'bout kittens, rainbows, and ponies or we fricassee your ass for dinner," and says I would never read a book about kittens, rainbows, and ponies in a million years unless it was the last book on earth and I had a choice between reading it and being fricasseed, BUT I bet So-and-So would LOVE it, so they buy it for you against their own better judgement and taste. THOSE types of friends are one of the best things you could ever have happen to you!

Even if you don't really enjoy the book, or if you've read it before, or if you set it on the floor and your dog eats it, a book given with thought from a friend is probably one of the best presents I could ever hope to receive.

There are many joys in life. Books, friends, kittens, ponies, rainbows, and any combination there of, are among the best!

By Lamplight

2007-02-26T09:41:00.000-05:00

Since moving from my idyllic Springhouse I have gained central heat & air and lost, among the many many many charms of my prior abode, the ability to watch that most beloved of inventions - Television. As my friends are aware I am a bit of a masochist, so it isn't as bad as it could be... I have found however that such primitive conditions are very conducive to my addictive almost obsessive love of reading. I also realized that there is no real rhyme or reason to when or what I read. And that though this lends me a charming eccentric air it also leaves me bewildered at times as to where I read that line, you know the one, the one that gets lodged in your head, the seed of an idea, the simple ten word explanation of something which you've wrestled internally with most of your adult life, the perfect pick up, the exact right thing to say when you can't say anything to help someone, that line. Well, it used to be that I would highlight things, fold a page in an almost origamic way so that the tip of one page would point to the exact sequence of words that salved my soul. Alas, this only ensured I would never remember what I gained from my books until at some future point I reread that exact book (and I ALWAYS reread, at least once, books that I like enough to keep on my bookshelves, except of course Les Miserables, and no one can fault me on that!) Anyway, all this rambling is to bring me to this point:

I must start keeping track of what I read, and what strikes me when I read it!

So here it is, my starting point. I am going to list which books I am currently reading and when something strikes me about one of them I will record it. At some point I will take a little precious time away from work, and friends, and family, and pull my nose out of a book long enough to set this up as some kind of permanent list of some sort with a link and all that spiffy shit, but for now here is window into my current reading life:

Saving Fish from Drowning, by Amy Tan
She wrote The Joy Luck Club. I am ashamed to admit this, but I saw the movie and did not read the book. It is a very good read. I am fascinated by how the author took an interest in automatic writings (where the departed communicate through the writings of the living) and turned it into a brilliant plot for a novel. It solves all those nasty complicated point of narrative problems I encounter if I write more than three pages of anything. So far there have been no life enhancing quotes or thoughts, but I'm only 2/3 of the way through it, so I'll keep you posted. I did find an origami page marking what I think is the most beautifully funny names I've ever seen in print. (For my own reasons, I have a weakness for characters, real or fictional, with unusual names.) The following is the excerpt that I marked:
"The rusty-headed twins were two who remained, from the lineage of the Lord of Nats and his Most-Most Favorite Concubine. She was much higher in status than the Most Favorite Concubine, and somewhat lower than the Most-Most Favored Wife. This was according to the twins grandmother, who was not from the paternal side, and so not of the divine lineage. But she was the one who named the boy "Loot" and the girl "Bootie," English words meaning "goods of great value taken in war." She kept them from being that, as she now testified to the tribe and the Younger White Brother."
Also there is a part where describes the tribe making a plan to evade the military regime of Burma by this elaborate hoax of leaving their village intact and living in the rain forest mountains. Then abruptly it says "We made another plan." As though the plans we all just merely collective decisions that the tribe set forth for everything, all the time. Kind of a "If A, then B. If X, then Y." some sort of group Chose Your Own Adventure Book. I just found it amusing. Probably because I'd had a glass of wine in a very hot bath...

This Book Will Change Your Life "365 Daily Instructions for Hysterical Living", by Benrik
I originally picked this one up as a gift for My Best Friend. She's been a little twitchy lately... But as I flipped through it I realized just exactly how fabulous it was! Kind of along the lines of "Steal This Book," with a zenish twist. Not quite as anarchist as "Steal this Book" or "The Anarchist Cookbook," but also it is not outdated yet. You will not find the recipe for Heroine in this book, but you will find a list of backdoors for hacking and premade vegetable stickers. It is irrelavent on the surface, but if you look too deeply, you will find that the "Daily Instructions" are actually practices in self realization. I am quite looking forward to randomly opening to a page anytime I'm feeling in a rut. Examples of "Daily Instruction":
Day 65 - Today learn a poem by heart. (Sounds great & enlightening doesn't it...)
Day 27 - Today you are not allowed to use the words "yes" or "no."
Day 239 - Bullshit Today. Log on to an internet chatroom and participate in a discussion you know nothing about for as long as you can without being exposed as a fraud.
Day 224 - Cut in line.
Day 148 - Leave a note on someone's car windshield. (They give several examples. My favorite is "I've left someone in your trunk. I'll pick him up next week if that's OK.")

There are two other books that I've started, but I'm having a hard time thinking coherently right now...I know this has been long and rambling, but I'm on cold medication so cut me some fucking slack.

*These are NOT book reviews, just simply my thoughts. Which makes this entire process useless to anyone but me, which is exactly how I like it.

Animal Farm Economics

2007-02-21T14:28:00.000-05:00

Cow Economics without the Bull Shit
Thanks to Cows I now understand what I couldn't be bothered to pay attention to in high school Economics class! Geez, if someone had just bothered to EXPLAIN it to me maybe I would have learned a little something instead of playing cards, reading Eudora Welty, and writing morbid poetry during 6th period that year. In all honesty I can say that I never understood the Gold Market until I read this piece.

Desk Testing

2007-02-17T10:31:00.000-05:00

This is a test. hope it works... Hey, "you know who" it worked. Ask me how!

Monkey Business

2007-02-08T18:09:00.000-05:00

Given enough time, monkeys, and keystrokes, I too can create masterpieces. Unfortunately my boss expects results with relatively little time and even fewer monkeys. If I am not given the proper resources can I be blamed for flinging feces.

Funny cause it's True

2007-02-05T16:35:00.000-05:00

The Hole - video powered by Metacafe

This explains some of what I find in the bathroom when I come home from work some days...

Today the birds are silent and only we cry

2007-02-01T14:05:00.000-05:00

The weeping willow is heavy,
damp snow clinging
To long thin branches where
birds should be singing

If I strain my ears
all I can hear
Is the sound of crying
soft and near

Like mourning doves
we sob and sigh
Strut and flutter
and quietly cry

I hope our songs
can reach her now
That she stops for a moment
with curly head bowed

That she pauses
and smiles just like before
When the bird songs she heard
were too sweet to ignore

shyam 2/1/07

Dying Grandmother died.

Her son finally made the trip home to see her from Utah less than 24 hours earlier. I think she was waiting for him.
My mother, of course was with her also. Just like 22 hours out of every single day for the last several months.
I was at work. She knew I loved her and that I would be there at 5pm, "same bat time, same bat channel."

The music stopped and I didn't have a chair.

George III

2007-01-29T21:39:00.001-05:00

I am sad to say that His Majesty the King has taken ill.

We are discussing allowing the Prince of Wales to act as Regent in his stead. There is much debate in parliment. It is said His Majesty engaged in consversation with a tree recently. I believe His Majesty may have indeed been conversing with the King of Prussia.

Until such time as he is needed the Prince shall continue to hold court at his Country Estate.

Not

2007-01-26T14:43:00.000-05:00

I've not got Jack today.

I haven't gotten Jack Shit from anyone. And you won't catch me doing Jack for the rest of the day.

From now on, any time I'm beat down to the point I can't lift my head, I'm just going to post a picture of my pretty kitty Jack to remind me that someone somewhere does love and appreciate me for no apparent reason. I know I have people in my life who love me, but I have to, at some point, interact with them in a certain way to maintain that love. Jack, on the other hand, has the attention span of a goldfish and always seems to assume that just five minutes ago I fed him, petted him, took a lazy afternoon nap with him, offered him catnip, or saved him from certain death, when in point of fact I have been sitting with my Dying Grandmother for two hours after slaving away all day at work.

Here are a few facts and tidbits about me that I will post as a quick reference list on the side eventually:

*The Jack that I will be referring to frequently is my black, fuzzy, psychotic, cycloptic, feline friend. He was a stray when I found him and later had to have his eye removed due to advanced Glaucoma. He loves me unconditionally and after he dies I plan on having him turned into a tiny bearskin rug.

*The Dying Grandmother is my grandmother, and she is dying. I'm laying good money on her breathing her last on or VERY near the first anniversary of my Dead Grandfather's (my Dying Grandmother's Dead Husband) death.

*My mother and I take turns sitting with my Dying Grandmother every day. It is like some sort of horribly morbid game of Death Watch Musical Chairs. Mom is there with her ALL day until I show up after work and relieve her for two hours or so. The way my luck is running I'll be sitting in the chair when Dying Grandmother decides to die.

*My Best Friend does love me unconditionally, but she has "attachment" issues due to Dead Father Syndrome and is allergic to hugs and tears. She does love chocolate, but does NOT appreciate being given Hershey Kisses instead of hugs. She's a freak and has a blog, but wishes to remain anonymous.

*I have a lover - The Geek. He's wonderful, but he's a Geek, and sometimes the wireless router gets all his attention. He humours my melodramatic tendencies so I tolerate his geekiness. We've had a one night stand for the past seven years and haven't killed each other yet... I think it might be Love.

Well, that's all I've got today. I told you I didn't have Jack... but I do feel a little better for having vented. So thank you, "you know who," for giving me the idea to start spouting incoherent nonsense into the vast vacuum of the online universe. It helped.

She made me do it!

2007-01-25T13:09:00.000-05:00

She's done it again. My best friend/worst tormentor has gone and done something...again. She started a blog, and thus has silently double dog dared me to do one also. There it is. One more waste of time in the vast wasteland which is my life. All because SHE had to go and start shit.

It would actually be a neat social experiment to compare and contrast our insanely differing views of the exact same events.

...By the way, I finally decided on BRUTALLY as the honesty setting for this particular blog so "you know who" (and you know who you are!) is not allowed to be offended by anything I might say here.