Favorite "Spirit" Quotes

"I'm gonna kill you all kinds of dead."

"Dental. And Nazis. Great."

"The cat was reason enough."

"And this one's for Muffin!"

"Somebody find me a tie! I don't care what kind, but by God, it had better be red!"



Damn, I wish I could remember more.

For Wren

I knew that she'd be trouble from the start. All dames are. Still, I couldn't help but let her in. She was the kinda dame that even a blind deaf guy with a two-bit sense of smell would notice the moment she walked in a room. She had legs that wouldn't quit, and a mouth on her that outran those legs. I always said a dame didn't need to talk, but I got a perverse pleasure outta listenin' to her devastate every lowlife barfly who got the notion she'd give him the time of day.

And I'm as low as they come. Still don't know why she didn't turn that acid tongue on the likes of me and put me in my place. It woulda been short work. But I was a private dick, and I had somethin' she wanted: a way out.

Like every beautiful woman in this town she had a past as dark as the bottom of the East River. Lookin' into her eyes sometimes was like starin' down the barrel of a gun. There was pain there, and danger: two things that seem to attract me like nothin' else. She'd been hurt real bad, though she didn't talk about it much. It made me want to get my hands around the throat of the man who'd done it and squeeze until the light left his eyes. Even though I knew this dame was strong enough to do it herself if she got the chance.

But it wasn't a man that'd done it. Well, not just a man, and not in the way I thought. They were a small family out of Saint Louis. New Money. Thought themselves grand because they'd done better than their parents. He was a lawyer: the kind so slimy no cell could hold him. The kind who could get the lowest scum off the hook without batting an eye.

She was a lazy housewife of the worst kind. Not enough brains to fill a shot glass. Spent all his money without wonderin' where it came from. That is, until the divorce. Messy business. The guy had an affair with some dancer at the kind of club a lawyer ought not to be seen at. Ended up making her his new wife. From what I gather, the dancer's got more decency than the housewife and the lawyer put together. But that ain't sayin' much.

So these people, if you can call 'em that. They took this dame in when she was just a kid with nobody and no place to go. She was an orphan and some kinda blood kin to the lazy broad. They spend half a decade makin' her feel like she's nobody. So now they figure she owes them a debt so big she can never repay it.

They want to see her, she says. And soon. Big family Christmas and all that. I try to remember the last time I celebrated Christmas by doing something besides spending some quality time in the dark with a scotch old enough to be my father. She's afraid that if she goes, she's done for. They got plans for her. They got a way of breakin' down this pillar of a woman and ruinin' her. I can't let that happen.

I tell her she don't belong to anyone. I don't got any family and I don't need any. But I wouldn't say no to comin' home to the sweet sight of that dame sittin' in my favorite chair while the smoke from her cigarette drifts up to stain the ceiling of my sorry excuse for an apartment. This dame makes me want to be somebody, and somethin' in me doesn't wanna let that go.

But it ain't my choice. And the pain and danger in the barrels of those eyes draws her toward that morning flight. And I know in my gut as I watch her step onto that plane without a backward glance that I'll never see her again. I don't know if anyone could help her, but it wasn't me. I'm already forgettin' the shade of her lipstick and the challenge in her eyes as I swear I'll never let myself love a dame again.

Making the Best of It

Initially I had a full day planned for tomorrow: I would go to Seattle and meet with one of my former professors for lunch and finally discuss what she thought of my thesis. Then I would meet up with my mother and see a Christmas play. Afterwards we would have dinner and then I would drive home and pack.

However, a huge winter storm warning is in effect for Western Washington, and my parents were concerned that if I went up to Seattle tomorrow, I might not be able to make it back to Olympia to pack and get back out to the airport on Sunday. My options were to either 1) Go on with my Seattle plans but pack up all my things for Hawaii and say goodbye to Trevor on Saturday. I would sleep in Seattle and go to the airport from there. Or, I could 2) Cancel all my plans for Saturday and say home packing and spending time with Trevor, then try to make it up to the airport early on Sunday.

I have opted for option 2 because it's less stressful, I can reschedule with my professor, and my mother and I agreed that one should not die for a play, unless one's name is Abraham Lincoln. And I'm glad I did. Now my laundry is done and I can look forward to a day of watching the storm, doing chores, packing, and hanging out with Trevor.

Trev and I have instituted our own holiday. It's called TMsmas (pronounced tee-emms-mas), and it is a three-day event. The first two days of the event are the two days before I leave for Hawaii. The third day is the day I return from Hawaii. So today was the first day of TMsmas. Trevor and I exchanged the first of three TMsmas gifts. I got him a green lip ring that he's in raptures over, and he got me Mama Mia! on Blu-Ray, bashfully confessing that it wasn't a completely altruistic gift, because he liked the movie too.

And so we got to spend our evening watching Mama Mia! and marveling at the wonderful combination of the Blue-Ray menu system and the Playstation 3 controller. It was like magic. And now we both have ABBA songs stuck in our heads. Tomorrow we will exchange presents again for day two of TMsmas, and then we'll each have one to look forward to after New Years.

Let it snow, I say! But also let it let up enough so that we can get to SeaTac by 3:30 on Sunday. I don't want to miss my Christmas flight again, and I'm really looking forward to seeing my family.

To Do Before Sunday

• Dishes (Trevor assures me he can do these)
  
• Clean rat cage (Guess Trevor's handling this one)
• Buy groceries
• Laundry and more laundry
• Clean bathroom (Trevor also assures me he can do this, though I'm skeptical)
  
• Buy toiletries, etc, at Target
• Buy rat food mix
• Coffee night on Thurs? (canceled due to snow)
• Put up the rest of XMAS decorations?
  
• Pack
• Pack some more
• Meet with Mita in Seattle on Saturday (if we don't get snowed out) POSTPONED
  
• Go to a play with Mom in Seattle on Saturday afternoon (see above) CANCELED
  
• Have some sort of down time (in addition to chores, etc) with Trev on Saturday night
  
• Be packed, prepared, and at airport by 2:00 Sunday afternoon (if my flight isn't canceled)

HOW?!

Observational Skills

People really only see what they want to. If one more person insinuates that the ring I wear on my left ring finger, which I've worn nearly constantly for at least FIVE YEARS, is an engagement ring, I swear I'm going to stop wearing it until I actually do get engaged. Sheesh!

Winter Wonderland

Dear Washington Drivers,

There is a very good reason why one should always keep a little tool that has a brush on one side and a scraper on the other side in one's car. I know it doesn't snow often here, but when it does, you all freak out. You seem to have mastered the art of brushing off your windshield, side and back windows. However, all of you have neglected an important area of your car: the roof.

I know that unless you have a sun- or moon-roof you don't actually have your view obscured when there's an inch of snow on top of your car. However, high school Physics might have taught you a few things about the relationship between acceleration and friction.

See, when you're going 70 miles per hour on I-5 and I'm driving behind you, the force of your acceleration combined with the air around your car causes that lovely inch-thick layer of snow on your roof to slowly break away and land on the road in front of me, creating your own personal mini snowstorm that not only scares the crap out of me, but also makes it hard for me to see for a few seconds.

I find myself hoping that you will have to brake suddenly and realize that physics dictates that all of that snow will fly forward onto your windshield (a clump of snow in motion stays in motion), thus leading to a lack of visibility and possibly imminent maiming or death thanks to your laziness and/or stupidity.

Remember: always brush.

No love,
The girl who totally could have died a dozen times on I-5 yesterday AKA The girl from HAWAII who knows more about driving in snow than you do

In Memoriam

Trinity Ann Awesomesauce

?? - December 6, 2008

You were always small and frail, but we held out hope that you could be okay. And even though we only had you for less than a year, you changed so much during that time. You went from being terrified of us to trusting and coming to us for comfort. I can hardly believe that the rat who wouldn't let me pick her up in March did not want to be out of my sight in the days before her death ten months later. I have to believe that you were happier for knowing us, for we were certainly happier for knowing you. You were the sweetest little creature I've ever known, and you are already terribly missed.

Wow

I'm 22 years old today. Crazy!


What a weird feeling.

Hell Yes!

Off to buy Wrath of the Lich King!

Note to Self

It is completely unacceptable to miss three doses of your medication in two days.


Now you pay.

Christmas Spirit

There Are Much Worse Things To Believe In
Sung by: Stephen Colbert and Elvis Costello

Elvis: There are cynics, there are skeptics
There are legions of dispassionate dyspeptics
Who regard this time of year as a maudlin insincere
Cheezy crass commercial travesty of all that we hold dear
Stephen: When they think that
Well, I can hear it
But I pity them their lack of Christmas spirit
For in a world like ours, take it from Stephen
There are much worse things to believe in.

Elvis: A redeemer and a savior, an obese man giving toys for good behavior
Stephen: The faith in what might be and the hope that we might see
The answer to all sorrow in a box beneath the tree
Find them foolish
Elvis: Sentimental
Stephen: Well you’re clearly none too bright
Both: so we’ll be gentle
Stephen: Don’t even try to start vaguely conceiving
Both: Of all the much worse things to believe in

Stephen: Believe in the judgment, believe in Jihad
Believe in a thousand variations on a dark and spiteful god
Elvis: You’ve got your money, you’ve got your power
You’ve got your science, and all the planets going to end within the hour
Stephen: You’ve got your dreams that don’t come true
Elvis: You’ve got the ones that do
Stephen: Then you’ve got your nothing
Both: Some folks believe in nothing
But if you believe in nothing
Then what’s to keep the nothing from coming for you

Stephen: Merry Christmas, Happy New Year
Now if you’ll forgive me there’s a lot to do here
There are stockings still unhung
Colored lights I haven’t strung
Elvis: And a one-man four-part Christmas carol waiting to be sung
Stephen: Call me silly, call me sappy
Call me many things, the first of which is happy
You doubt, but your sad
I don’t, but I’m glad
Both: I guess we’re even
Stephen: At least that’s what I believe in
Both: And there are much worse things

Everything I Need to Know About Love I Learned From "Twilight"

How to tell if a vampire is in love with you:

• He thinks you smell really good. No, seriously. He recoils at how good you smell.
• He can't read your mind for reasons that are never explained.
• He shows you his sparkly chest.
• He saves you from another vampire who had evil intentions.
  
• He saves you from a gang of Port Angeles roughnecks who had evil intentions.
• Hell, he saves you from a van that had evil intentions.
• He watches you sleep every night without your knowledge and when he tells you, you don't find that creepy.
  
• He wants to eat you.
• He doesn't want to turn you into a vampire.
• He's like totally going to be with you until you die of old age.

Somebody gag me.

Eyes Toward the Future, Heart in My Throat

Had a conversation last night I'm sure to remember for at least the next decade. I think everything's going to be fine. No, I think everything's going to be better than fine. We're just like Prufrock right now:

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

But those decisions are going to be made, and made with careful thought and planning. And I think it will all be for the better in the end.



(Sorry to be so cryptic)

Wow

"Can you spare some change for a bite to eat?"
"I'm so sorry, but I don't have any cash on me."
"That's all right. [pause] You're very beautiful."
"[pause] Wow, um. Thank you. [pause] Have a good day."


I wonder how long I'll remember that guy.

Also, I really need to learn how to take compliments.

I am Amazing

After spending a week two days behind schedule, I've finally done it! I've caught up! I am over a hundred words ahead of today's word count goal (26,666), which means that I am over half done with NaNoWriMo! Given this information, I should be motivated enough to maybe actually reach 50,000 words by the end of the month! Obviously, the goal has always been to meet the full 50,000 words, but I really had no idea what to expect when I started this crazy venture, so now that I've been keeping up for over half of it, I feel like I might be able to actually do it!

Hooray for me!

(And many thanks to Wren and others for motivating me and being patient with my schedule.)

*****
Me: I'm thinking maybe I'll do some dishes if I get caught up on NaNoWriMo tonight.
Wren: You need to prioritize.
Me: Yeah. I can do dishes in December.
Wren: Exactly.

The Reef! The Reef! The Reef is on Fire!

Okay, maybe that was in poor taste. But they would appreciate it. The Reef (short for King Solomon's Reef) is one of Olympia's oldest and most classic dives. It's a diner/bar type of a place that has a significant history and a devoted clientele. They also have a fun tradition of putting up interesting messages on their reader board rather than advertisements. A couple of my favorites (I've probably mentioned them before) are as follows:

(in the summer) "Hot? Come into the Reef! Ugly? That's fine too."

(re: going back to school) "You know all the answers! Spend your book money at the Reef!" (to which the book store across the street responded with: "We know the cooks at the Reef buy books instead!")

Well, on Wednesday morning The Reef had a kitchen fire, so they're going to be out of business for a while. It must've been pretty bad, because when I got to work there were several fire trucks, ambulances, and cop cars surrounding the building. But does that get The Reef down? No! Their reader board now says:

"This is why we can't have nice things!"

Ohgod

So... how many more days of NaNoWriMo?

I swear I'll be caught up by Saturday at bedtime! I must!

I actually really like the story. I just like doing other things besides writing in my spare time, too.

Ramblings

You know how they say that books take you to another world? I have found that to be true in my own experience. However, it's not always a good thing.

When I read too much, I get sucked into the world of the book I'm reading. I use it as an escape. Sometimes, I don't want to do anything else but live in the world of the book. Or, conversely, sometimes I am afraid or repelled by the thought of submerging myself in that world.

I'm not a writer, I'm a reader. I write when I want something to read that does not exist yet as far as I know. When I'm writing "Twenty Feet" (my NaNoWriMo project), I escape to the world that "Twenty Feet" inhabits. For the past two days, my mind has not wanted to live in that world.

Tomorrow, when I force myself to try to catch up with the word count for NaNoWriMo, how will spending all day in the book-world of "Twenty Feet" affect me? I always seem to be significantly affected by whatever I'm reading/writing.

It's why I can't read before bed, unless it's a book I'm familiar with. Maybe I shouldn't write before bed either.

Why isn't my mind satisfied with the world my body exists in?

More Work Antics

E-mail exchange from today:

Me: Which one of you bled on the [client] notes? Biohazard! If I get an infectious disease, I'm blaming you. Next time, a little less blood, eh?

[Boss 1]: Hmmm. I don't recall bleeding, or seeing blood. Maybe [client] came in the night, and this was intended to be a threatening message... I think we should put Dr. Jekyll on the case.

Me: You fool! Jekyll cannot even save himself!

[Boss 1]: Dash it all--you've seen through my plan. Now I must find a scapegoat, to divert attention from my nefarious machinations.

Me: You're approaching blogworthiness. You are indeed nefarious.

[Boss 1]: Double dashes! Now my thoughts and ruminations will be made public, when I'm supposed to be maintaining a low profile! I curse the day you arrived, with your twitter and your bloggery.

[Boss 2]: It was me, but it was beets. Which may be even grosser to you, I guess.

Me: A likely story!

Where Was I?

I'm following Wren's lead, and making myself pin down where I was when Barack Obama was elected President of the United States of America. If I ever have children, I hope they are amazed when I tell them of a time before we had a black President. I hope I will also be able to tell them about a time before we had women Presidents, and they will think we were living in the Dark Ages. I will tell him of a time when many of us couldn't afford to drive our cars, didn't have health insurance, and couldn't get a good education. But I don't yet know what the future holds.

What I do know is that last night my faith in this country was restored. It's tenuous, but it's there. I'm not ashamed to be an American. I no longer fear that we are in a downward spiral that we're too selfish and stubborn to pull out of. When Barack Obama was elected President I was in the home of two very dear friends. Four of the most important people to me outside my family were around me. I had prepared a delicious veggie tray and had been anxiously filling myself full of cucumber sticks, caramel corn, and Midori sours.

At 7:00 we switched to Comedy Central's Indecision 2008: America's Choice coverage. It felt right to be brought real-time election news by the people who had kept me sane regarding politics for the past eight years. At 8:00, Jon Stewart ended the show with the following words: "As of 11:00 Eastern Standard Time, Barack Obama is projected to be the next President of the United States of America." Shock, bated breath, worry about jinxing the fact that our greatest wish had just been granted. Trevor excitedly demanded that we switch to a real news station. There was no sound from the newscasters on MSNBC. We couldn't see the numbers properly at the top of the screen. Before us was a multiracial sea of tear-streaked faces, people cheering so loudly their voices were one, embracing friends and strangers alike.

We cheered, but were still nervous. We got a noise complaint. We waited. MSNBC announced that John McCain had called Obama personally to concede. I got to break the news to my sister by phone. Finally, around 9:00, we watched John McCain concede more gracefully than I could have imagined in front of a uniformly white crowd of bitterly disappointed supporters. They booed when McCain urged them to support Obama. It was the best speech I've ever heard him give. My father called and told me he loved me and said that this was the most excited he'd been since 1992.

We waited more. Finally, Obama and his wife and children came out on stage. We cheered. The entire world cheered as one. Michelle Obama's dress was amazing. There was bullet-proof glass around the stage. He spoke, and we were silent for a full twenty minutes. Many of us cried. He thanked us. He told us this was our victory. He told us we had a long road ahead. He said he would be the President of those who didn't vote for him, too. He said that he will listen to us, "especially when we disagree." He said, "The new dawn of America is at hand." He promised a new puppy for his daughters. That made me remember that I love him for showing how human he is.

The rest of the evening is a blur. We ate, we drank, we hugged, we sat in shock. We tried to imagine the new world that was before us. We wondered about local elections, about Prop 8 in California. No victory is untarnished. This victory will not solve all of our problems. But it's a sign that we're willing to try to be better.

I have rarely felt that I was present at the brink of history. Certainly not for something so wonderful as this. This morning I did not wake up from a beautiful dream; I woke up to a hopeful reality.

Brave New World

"You can live in staunch denial and mark me as your enemy,
but I'm just a voice among the throng who want a brighter destiny.
They sing with me:
We are the New America!
This is the New America!"

Bad Religion - "The New America"




I hoped for this day, but I didn't really believe it would come. Today I wake up from an eight-year nightmare to a new day I am only just beginning to imagine. I'm practically giddy; drunk on it all. I don't know what to say or do. But I'm happy, and hopeful. The road ahead will not be easy, but at least now I can believe that things might change for the better.

Ack

Ohgod. I'm not sure I can make it. Can we fast forward twelve hours?

One Day More

One Day More
Les Miserables
(selections)

One day more!
Another day, another destiny
The never-ending road to Calvary
One more day before the storm
The time is now, the day is here
One day more!
One more day till revolution
One day more!
One day to a new beginning
Raise the flag of freedom high
There's a new world to be won
Do you hear the people sing?
Tomorrow we'll be far away
Tomorrow is the judgment day
Tomorrow we'll discover
What our God in Heaven has in store
One more dawn
One more day
One day more!


It's a little melodramatic, I know. The atmosphere just feels similar.

Enter November

NaNoWriMo has officially begun. You may now monitor my progress via the Word War application to your right. I'm really, really happy with the story so far. I surpassed my quota for Day One, and I'm hoping to do so again today and tomorrow so that I'll have a one-day buffer for Election Day, which I will spend either working or drunk, hopefully. As everyone I know keeps saying, we're going to need to drink no matter what the outcome is.

Election Day is two days away. I don't think I can stand it. I'm torn between optimism that things have to turn out right this time, and terror that they'll be screwed up beyond repair. I'm working tomorrow and Tuesday (I've already voted by mail), but we're closing the office on Wednesday so that we can nurse our hangovers. Trevor and I are headed up to Wren and Matt's place after work, which should be fun. I'm looking forward to homemade potato chips and many, many midori sours.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November.
The Fifth of November will be an historic day not only for the Brits this year. The Fifth for us will be the beginning of a new era in America's history. Will we wake up on November 5 to brand new day filled with hope and promise and the belief that we can turn our country around? Or will we wake in despair, knowing that America couldn't save itself from certain downfall. Will we be proud to be Americans again, or will we be contemplating buying plane tickets to Canada or the UK?

Personally, I'm scared to death.

Time to go write some more.

Women *Love* Abortions

Stop Teasing Us!

Give it to me, now!

Bracing Myself

You may notice that some things around the blog have changed. I have regrettably had to abandon my "I just can't picture myself sleeping with a non-voter" banner because it wouldn't fit right, but I still fully expect all of you to vote! Unless you're voting for John McCain. Then you can stay home.

I had to do all of this blog revamping because Wren had the brilliant idea of incorporating some NaNoWriMo (National Novel-Writing Month) stuff in her blog, and I had to follow suit. I managed to make a little html/div box (on your right) all by myself! All right, Wren helped. But it still rocks. I have a general participant icon that links to the main website for NaNoWriMo, as well as a theoretical book cover for the theoretical book that I will theoretically be writing 50,000 words of during November. I also have a little Word War meter that shows Wren's and my word counts together.

So I'm finally psyched about working on this story again! I've got Word documents made up for each of the thirty days already so I can keep everything meticulously organized, and all of my notes for "Twenty Feet" thus far are in order, though I'm mostly going to try to start again and see where that gets me. I'm all registered and all my information is up on the NaNoWriMo site, so now all I have to do is get up on November 1 and start writing!

Won't you join me?

Fun with Politics

So because of this whole "Joe the Plumber" debacle, John McCain's website has offered to make personalized rally signs with your name and occupation on one side and "Don't Tax Me for Working Hard" on the other side. Once I saw this, the urge to abuse the online form was irresistible:

A classic:


It's hard times for professional Explorers these days:


And my personal favorite (and tribute to my parents):


Trevor and I also thought of Bob the Builder, Jack the Ripper, and Ichi the Killer. Can you think of any other fun sign opportunities? Have your own fun at John McCain's website!

I wonder what would happen if we actually ordered one of these. I bet Bob the Builder could slip by.

I Love Obama Even More

Obama is hilarious (for the most part) at the Al Smith Dinner:

Part One:


Part Two:

Dear Senator McCain

Dear Senator McCain,

1) It's not a "choice" anymore if you remove all alternatives.

2) Downs Syndrome and Autism are not even remotely similar. Unless you count the fact that under your policies, it will be impossible to get affordable treatment for either.

3) No Child Left Behind does not work. Period. You cannot treat schools like small businesses. When you make schools compete, children lose. What's that, Jimmy? You wanted to learn how to play the violin? Too bad, your school doesn't have enough funding to provide a music program because President McCain decided your WASL scores weren't high enough.

4) I'll let the Canadians know that their oil is "fine."

5) Not wanting a massive oil spill or nuclear fallout is not "extreme environmentalism." There's no reason to drill offshore if we have oil under the ground, and nuclear power is not "completely safe"!

If you somehow become President, I'm leaving the country, because in four years, there won't be much of one left to live in. No public services, no health care, no social security, terrible education no jobs, and no regard for the environment. The rest of the world already dislikes and laughs at us. Don't make them pity us.

No love,
A Concerned Citizen

Metaphorical Crisis

My Dad is an economist. And he is fed up with the crappy analogies and models for the Financial Crisis. So he came up with one of his own to explain the situation to me:

"I got one:
It's like your cardio-vascular system: a hedge fund has just plunged a knife into your carotid artery and now investors are stomping on your abdomen forcing the blood out faster and the Fed is trying to apply pressure while Bush nicely tells the investors to just calm down and stop jumping up and down but because you are anemic due to sub prime mortgage debt you cannot clot.
Is this working for you?"

It's actually a really good analogy, in my humble opinion.
I love my Dad.

RIP Basil

"Not even a sparrow, worth only half a penny, can fall to the ground without your Father knowing it"

Matthew 10:29


We're going to miss you, little guy. You had a lot more living left to do. I hope the time you did have here was as happy as it seemed. Perhaps you're pea-fishing in Rat Heaven.

VP Debate

One word: nucular.

Every time she said it I think I lost a significant number of brain cells.



And people love her!




Also, this is awesome:

Yes!

I Love Olympia

As I walked to the coffee shop today to get my mid-morning snack of pumpkin bread, I admired what a lovely day it is. A slight haze of clouds keeps the sun from being too bright and the temperature from getting too hot. I was on my way to a locally-owned coffee shop to buy a bagel made by a locally-owned bagel company. Truly Olympian!

As I passed the alley behind my building, I noticed that a teenage boy was standing next to the wall with headphones on, merrily spray-painting graffiti on the wall. How is nobody but me seeing this, I wondered. What gutsy kid is out doing graffiti in the middle of the day? And then I remembered: the wall behind my building is a city-sanctioned official graffiti wall. Anyone is allowed to graffiti there, and when the wall gets too full, the city paints it over in white again so that there will be room for new graffiti. How cool is that?

I love Olympia.

Spiritual Makeover

Trevor and I have been having a lot of problems with our current church of late, which is a comparatively moderate evangelical church he's been going to since he was like eight years old. I have never been much for evangelism, but I wanted to be with Trevor and some other friends and family who go there, and after my parents converted from Catholicism to Episcopalianism, I wasn't quite sure where I stood on the Christianity scale.

Things were fine at the evangelical church, but after a while the underlying politics began to bother us. It was obvious that most of the congregation were conservative. The fact that the pastor is from Texas did not help that: he is very much a down home Texan Christian with his high school sweetheart as his housewife and two frighteningly timid and obedient children. But that's his choice and if that works for him, fine. He was adamant that politics should not be brought into church: he confronted Trevor for wearing a shirt that said "Who Governs the Government?" on it and pointed him to a Bible passage that tells us not to question our leaders because God puts them in power. Trevor was not happy, but he stopped wearing the shirt. This man believes that the Iraq War is God's will.

After all of that, and the fact that members of my Uncle's family (who also go to that church) told my sister that she was a sinner because she's a lesbian, and all of the blatant conservatism, prejudice, and unwillingness to question the status quo, we were still putting up with this church.

And then things got personal. Trevor drums for the Worship Team, which provides music for the service. He has been doing this for years, and not once has his opinion been taken seriously regarding what type of music they should play, when they should practice, etc. They held a big meeting about where the Team was going, and basically it was a big "Trevor isn't a team player" bitchfest. In addition, the Pastor pulled Trevor aside and expressed his concerns about the fact that Trevor and I are living together and not married. Trevor politely brushed them off, though he was angry. Apparently Trevor's a "role model" in the church, and "the younger young adults look up to him," so he can't be seen to be living in sin.

This put us on our guard, but again, we weren't sure we would leave the church over it. And then my Uncle confronted Trevor over the same thing, though his concern was more personal and less holier-than-thou. Still, it was frustrating. He wants us to get married as soon as possible! Trevor assured him that we intend to get married, but when we're ready, not when someone else says we should be.

And the sermons are boring and no one talks about anything real or does anything in the community or allows for anything to not have an absolute predefined Biblical answer.

So we went to St. John's on Sunday, which is an Episcopal church up the street from our apartment. What a difference! Like night and day. The building itself is beautiful, they had Camp Quiote (a traveling homeless camp) in their parking lot temporarily, the service (music included) was pleasant and everyone seemed very nice. Trevor had some trouble with all of the ceremony and recitation left over from Catholicism, but it wasn't taken nearly so seriously as at a Catholic church.

The best part, though, was the sermon. It was like God had planned for Trevor to be there on that day and for that reading to come up in the calendar and that sermon to be preached to us. It was about questioning authority. The Pastor at our old church told us not to question authority because it is put in place by God. The man who delivered this sermon said that there are three types of authority: intrinsic, gifted, and usurped. For example, God has intrinsic authority: he has authority because he is God. He gifts Jesus with all of his authority. Jesus' authority is also therefore legitimate. But the Pharisees' authority is usurped. It is perfectly reasonable to question usurped authority (including that of Politicians and other earthly authoritators).

Needless to say, Trevor was won over, and I was ecstatic. We are now thinking of moving to St. John's permanently as soon as Trevor can fairly step down from the Worship Team. We're also thinking of writing to the Sermonizer and thanking him. So it was quite the eventful Sunday!

Asshattery

Boss-related E-Mail Antics

(Boss asked me if I had finished work from previous day.)

Me: I did all of that! Maybe I don't need you after all!

[Boss 1]: You need me. I'm the senior partner. I control everything.

Me: I don't know if you've ever seen Buffy or Angel, but there's an evil law firm that protects demons and bad people from the law using evil lawyering! The "Senior Partners" are majorly powerful demons! Now I am afraid of you.

[Boss 1]: You are right to fear me. Did you ever see Devil's Advocate, starring Keanu Reaves as a lawyer and Al Pacino as the devil?

Me: Are you saying you're secretly Keanu Reeves? Now I really am scared! Also, I suppose for NaNoWriMo I could just do 50,000 words of freewriting related to the story I'm working on already. Feels like cheating. But what's the point of starting something new if you've got something good going?

[Boss 1]: Exactly. If I do NaNoWriMo, that's what I'm doing. I'll be open about it, but I'm planning to use it to make some progress.

Me: Write an evil story about being evil.

[Boss 1]: Stories aren't evil. People are evil.

Me: Stories can be evil if evil people write them. You de-Manek [Pronounced "Demonic" -- Manek is Boss 1's first name] man.

[Boss 1]: I disagree. For example, Norman Mailer was kind of a jerk. So was Hemingway. And don't even ask about Jane Austen--she was positively malevolent. But their stories aren't evil.

Me: There's a difference between being a jerk and being evil. Brad Pitt wasn't a jerk in "Meet Joe Black," but he was totally evil! Also hot.

[Boss 1]: William Safire says "hot" is no longer cool. Kids these days say "fierce." Have you heard that?

Me: No. But I'm old. Also, I was never cool. I will always say "hot." P.S. Keanu Reeves is totally who is playing you in our feature film, "Outraged on Your Behalf: The Backlund & Mistry Story."

[Boss 1]: He is so fierce. Will it be Keanu from the Matrix? Or the gum-chewing bulked-up cop Keanu from Speed? P.S. I think he's taller than me.

Me: I think Matrix Keanu. In a suit. With long hair and sunglasses. P.S. Everyone's taller than you.

[Boss 1]: Um. I don't think you're taller than me.

Me: I'm not trying to play you in a movie.

[Boss 1]: Touche.

Still Not 100%

It's amazing what a good night's sleep will do. It probably would've done more if I had been able to fall asleep at 10:30 or 11:00 like I planned instead of 11:30 or 12:00. But I do feel mostly better. Now I just have to get through work, go home, go to the gym, shower, eat dinner, and plan out the rest of my life.

When I say "plan out the rest of my life," I mean that Trevor and I have decided that we're going to try to find time this evening to do some major planning regarding the next 5-10 years. We need to figure out Trevor's projected graduation date, what year we're going to try to enter grad school, where we might go for grad school, when the average application deadline is, what exams we have to take beforehand, how much money we should save up, when it would be most prudent to get married, etc, etc. It's a little daunting, but it has to be done. I've already done some brainstorming and a good amount of research, so hopefully we can take care of some of the basics tonight.

What a weird week so far.

Ingredients for Making a Pre-Lithium Maddo

1. A day spent reading or writing
   
2. An unsettling social situation
3. Nostalgia in waves
   
4. Insomnia like whoa
5. Coincidences involving iTunes and iPod shuffle functions
   

Presto! It's like I'm not even on drugs. Pre-Lithum Maddo might do any of the following:

1. Tear up when she misses the bus.
2. Zone out for minutes at a time for no reason.
3. Be uninterested in anything that's not "deep."
4. Fixate on things that are "deep."
5. Resent any minute she's not sleeping, reading, or writing.
6. Obsessively quote poignant song lyrics.
7. Feel like every second is a minute, every minute is an hour, etc.
   

Except this fake Pre-Lithium Maddo still has all those fun side effects of Lithium.

It's gonna be a long day...




Your voice: like the sound of sirens to a house on fire...

The Alkaline Trio - Nose Over Tail

Dunno Why I Love This So Much

The sky's on fire again.
Run down the alleyway.
Lightning bolts again, we become fireflies
just flashing at the air.
Rattle garbage cans.
Prepare to be ravaged
by our lust burning mad,
the fire that we've become.
And I know you're under me,
but I must confess what's in my head...

Saves the Day - Firefly

I Love My Bosses

Today was my first paycheck as a full-time employee. This is a big deal for me, because I've never worked full time before (for some reason, spending 60+ hours a week on schoolwork doesn't count). It's also apparently a big deal for my bosses, who haven't had a full-time employee in a very long time. Also they think I'm amazing. So today, to celebrate, they took me out to a nice lunch. An hour of eating on the clock plus a free delicious meal? Hell yeah!

We were going to go to a Japanese steakhouse around here that's really good, but [Boss 2] didn't have time because she had to get back to court, so we went to Mercato (delicious Italian place) instead. Not only did I get my free meal and time out of the office, but they also handed over (along with my paycheck) a $50 bonus check just because they think I've been doing so well, and a stainless steel melon baller.

The melon baller needs explaining: last week, [Boss 2] and I were talking about cantaloupe, and how it tastes best in a fruit salad, especially if you can use a melon baller. I expressed my dismay about not having my own melon baller, and shared my memories of making fruit salad with my father when I was young. Lo and behold, [Boss 2] remembers and gets me a melon baller of my very own! What amazing bosses I have!

For all the griping I do about working full time and and not being very excited about the work I have to do and not having enough free time, I really am blessed to have this job.

In Memoriam

What happened seven years ago was awful. The feelings we felt then are indescribable. I understand the fear and the sorrow and the patriotism. I do not, however, understand the way this day has been used as a political tool ever since. If I don't give in to nationalistic fervor, then I don't care about what happened on 9/11 or the suffering our troops have endured. If want to end the war, then I don't care about freedom or fighting terrorism in the name of our lost loved ones. I'm disgusted with it. I love this country, and because I love this country, I'm not voting for the party that promotes war and does nothing substantial to keep us safer. I deplore the despicable scare tactics that have been used lately to imply that voting Republican is the only way to protect this nation. Here's how I choose to commemorate today:

"The New America"
Bad Religion

Do you know the cost of future misery?
Have you lost your sense of sustainability?
We are just a step away from realizing what we strive to be,
but we've got to break out from this insulated, blind, and lame senility.

Wake up the new America!
Transcend the mass hysteria.
Change is the thing you're wary of.
We need a new America!

Laurels, human triumph, bestowments from the past--
Victories don't mean a thing if they don't last!
We are just marching toward extinction with blinders on our eyes,
jeopardizing everything we've learned and come to realize! You call that wise?

Open your eyes, America!
See through the lies they tell to us!
Confront the fears that worry us!
We need a new America!

We don't have to be afraid to re-invent.
We've got to start to build, progress, and implement.
For when we take our fill, and never pay the price,
we only build ourselves a fleeting, false paradise.

You can live in staunch denial and mark me as your enemy,
but I'm just a voice among the throng who want a brighter destiny.
They say with me:

We are the new America!
This is the new America!
We are the new America!
This is the new America!

A Light in the Dark World of Pop Culture

For some reason, when "The Janice Dickinson Modeling Agency" is on TV, Trevor and I find ourselves drawn to it. We never get the urge to watch it when it's not on, or record it when we know it'll be on. But for some reason, if it's on TV, we can't look away.

The modeling industry itself frustrates me. I see why it's necessary in our culture, but I'm not sure I like the way it's run or the messages it sends to young people (especially young women) about how they supposedly need to look. I also don't like the way that even the most beautiful models are always photoshopped, etc. Still, the show intrigues me. I think the key is that Trevor and I like to watch attractive, conceited people get yelled.

There's one character on the latest season that I've decided I absolutely adore. His name is Martin and he's deaf. This has been a huge controversy for reasons beyond me. Everyone loves working with him, his interpreter is awesome, and there have been no problems whatsoever on jobs. I like him because he has an amazing sense of humor.

For instance, in last night's episode, all of the models were in an uproar of drama because one of the male models has the personality of a fourteen-year-old. He is one of the most obnoxious people I have ever observed. He kept everyone up half the night by huffing around complaining that the tub was clogged even though there was another bathroom right down the hall he could have used. The next day people were muttering mutinously in small groups about him. Martin and another male model were discussing the issue together:

[Other Model]: "So what do you think of [Obnoxious Model]?"
Martin: (through interpreter) "He's horrible."
[Other Model]: "Really? He even bothers you?"
Martin: *emphatic* "He's so loud even I can hear him!" *snickers*
[Other Model]: *laughs* "That bad, huh?"
Martin: "Oh yeah. He's really obnoxious."
[Other Model]: "Did he keep you up last night, too?"
Martin: "Yeah! I've never met someone who talks that much in my life!"

As a note, Martin is completely deaf. That's why I think it's adorably hilarious.

There is also an interview with him on the website right now asking about his relationships with the other models:

[Interviewer]: "So who do you like best out of the other models?"
Martin: "I really like CC. I think she's amazing. She's not like any other girl I've ever met." *pauses for effect* "If I were straight I would totally ask her out." *grins*

Cynicality

We just went to the Supreme Court this morning ([Boss 1] and [Boss 2] have only gone to the Supreme Court three times now in their entire careers), and I thought it went really well. [Boss 1] and [Boss 2], however, are convinced despite feeling good about their case that we're going to lose. Why? Because the deck is always stacked against us. It doesn't matter how important the issue is or how easy it would be to fix it or how obnoxious the Prosecutor is being: the Court still doesn't want to change the law if it doesn't have to. Even if this has happened before and it will happen again.

My favorite lines from the proceedings: (Paraphrased because I don't remember the exact wording)

Chief Justice: "Counsel, that sounds like a pretty frightening loophole for the State."
[Boss 2]: "Yes, it does, Your Honor."

Chief Justice: "A cynical person might say that the State could use this kind of procedure to prevent the defendant from having an attorney before the trial begins."
Prosecutor: "Uh... well, that would be a very cynical argument, Your Honor..."

Prosecutor: "Well, if you look at Kistenmacher--"
Justice #6: "I wrote Kistenmacher, Counsel; I don't need you to quote it for me."

Here's a video of the proceedings for those who are interested!

Surviving the Monotony

I love being able to use chat programs at work.

peter: go now! Nap for justice.
me: sadly, i cannot. the work will not do itself
(that is, until i create a machine / magic spell...)
peter: this is where banging harry potter would come in handy
me: one would hope so
he's not as smart as hermione though
it may be time to resort to hot lesbian sex
for justice, of course
peter: if it must be done, then let it be done
me: is there anything hot lesbian sex can't solve?
peter: God I hope not.

Why Has No One Thought of This Before?

Trevor is reading Pride and Prejudice. And he has a theory:

"Man, Darcy hasn't been in the story for a while. What's he up to? Is he in London? You know, like, fighting crime? ... Dude! It all makes sense now! The mild-mannered wealthy gentleman Fitzwilliam Darcy secretly fights crime on the streets of London by night as--the Batman!"

And from there it only got worse.

"Think of the similarities! They're both rich and attractive, yet mysteriously unmarried. Their parents are dead. They were both basically raised by servants. They get all the ladies. We should make a chart!"

And worse...

"And Bingley, he's like a weird little fruity dude. He could be Robin!"

"To the Bat-coach!"

And worst:

"Also, if I were a rapper, my name would be Fitzwilly-D."



Also, he's taken to reenacting scenes from P&P after he reads them to make sure he's on the right track. He uses his hands as characters and does squeaky voices. My favorite was the scene where Darcy proposes for the first time: "OMG Elizabeth I love you marry me." "No, I hate you, you made Bingley not marry Jane!" "But I can explain!" "You're the last man I could ever marry!" "Fine I never liked you anyway I'll just write you a letter bitch."


I love him so much. I'll tell him after I stop laughing.

Goodbye Summer

Today is my last Monday off before full-time work sets in for me permanently. I am not excited about this prospect. I know it sounds pretty lazy of me to whine about a 40-hour week when so many hard-working people have much longer work weeks and don't complain. But there is something about my academic personality that just rails against getting up early and doing the same thing for eight hours a day five days a week. I'm always tired. I'm always bored. And it feels like every moment of my evenings and weekends is spent either cleaning up my house, running errands, or recuperating from my work week. And that's just me working 32 hours a week! With one extra day of work and one fewer day of weekend, how am I going to cope? I'm just not that type of person. I want variety. I want intellectual challenges. I want to be able to sleep in or nap every once in a while. I care about our work and I care about our clients, but I wish that didn't mean being at the office at 8:30 every day and leaving at 5:00 and feeling guilty about leaving early or taking a day off because I'm sick. I need to get my rats spayed--when am I going to have a Tuesday where I can go to Tacoma and do that? And Wren, Matt, Daryl, et al are all going back to school, to an intense graduate program. How many Saturdays will I actually be able to devote to going to Tacoma to see them? And will I really be able to make it up to watch Heroes at Comic House on Mondays? Ugh. No wonder people have mid-life crises.

You Have Cholera!

I have Cholera. Okay, not really. I have a stomach flu that resembles Cholera's wimpy kid sister. But it still packs a punch.

Is it morbid to count how many times you throw up?

Trevor had this flu two days ago, so I figured if he didn't have food poisoning, then I'd be getting it sooner or later.

Apparently there is a story behind this flu. One of Trevor's friends got married on Saturday. Trevor didn't go to the wedding, but he dropped in at the reception to wish the couple well. There were some kegs and Trevor had a drink. What no one else knew at the time was that earlier that evening, some asshole who had the flu had done a keg stand on the very keg Trevor drank from. Now, 35+ wedding guests and now everyone they come in contact with have a horrible stomach flu. One guest was hospitalized for a dangerously high fever. Luckily, the bride and groom were spared because they were too busy to drink, and the honeymoon has not been ruined.

My comment to Trevor: "That was a very expensive free drink, sweetie."

And now I am home at least for all of today, possibly for some or all of tomorrow. I am subsisting on crackers and water until further notice.

Serious Business

(E-mail convo with [Boss 1])



[Boss 1]: I need a good name for a donut store. I'd like to have a science fiction theme, but, you know, I'm open to other ideas too.

[Me]: Well, if it's a science fiction theme then definitely "Black Hole Donuts" or "A Hole Universe" or "Wormhole Donuts." The possibilities are endless!

[Boss 1]: Those are excellent suggestions. Maybe I'll just start by cooking some up in my basement.
[Boss 1]: You know, like a donut lab. A clandestine donut lab.

[Me]: Those are the best kind.
[Me]: P. S. Just name the shop "Donut Lab." I would say "Clandestine Donut Lab," but that sounds more like a name for your new rock band!

[Boss 1]: I think I probably won't have a name for it. That way, it'll be even more clandestine.

[Me:] Touché.

*(after a pause in e-mailing)*

[Boss 1]: I'm pretty hungry for a donut now. Or another form of baked good. Maybe someone's having a bake sale somewhere.

I Love Barack Obama

Barack Obama's comment after Michelle Obama addressed the Democratic National Convention:

"Now you know why I asked her out so many times even though she said no. You want a persistent President! *gleeful smug grin*"



Also, Joe Biden made this amazing face when Michelle Obama complimented him in her speech. I now have full confidence in him.

Pillow Talk

Trevor: "Hm. Now I think this is some deep-seated issue that's just surfacing."
Me: "Oh, yeah. This well runs keep. Keep drillin'. There's a gold mine. Of mixed metaphors."
Trevor: *cannot speak for laughing*

I am Not a Secretary

I just had the following conversation with my boss on the phone:

Me: "Hey, [Boss 2], Julie from [Law Firm] just called wanting to confirm your lunch date with [Julie's boss]. And she wants to know if you can meet at 11:30." *hoity-toity voice*
[Boss 2]: *groans* "Oh, good lord. You know, [Julie's boss] is just a regular lawyer with an assistant like me." *ahem, hoity-toity voice* "Well, can you please call back Julie and inform her that I am confirming my lunch appointment with [Julie's boss] and--" *drops to normal voice* "Okay, I'm just kidding, you don't have to call her back. I can make my own phone calls about lunch."
Me: "Oh, thank God. See you later!"

Birth Month Thingie

Stolen from LJ.

RULES:
_ Pick your birth month. (check)
_ Strike out anything that doesn't apply to you. (check)
_ Bold (or italicize) the five-ten that best apply to you. (check)
_ Copy to your own journal, with all twelve months under a lj-cut. I'll find you the other months if you want them.
_ Tag 5 people from your friends list.

(Red indicates what I hope people think about me).

DECEMBER: Loyal and generous. Sexy. Patriotic. Active in games and interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. Loves to socialize. Loves praises. Loves attention. Loves to be loved. Honest and trustworthy. Not pretending. Short tempered. Changing personality. Not egotistic. Take high pride in oneself. Hates restrictions. Loves to joke. Good sense of humor. Logical.

Redefining "Me"

I need to figure out which parts of who I used to be were the Bipolar II or Cyclothymia or whatever and which parts were really me, so that I can tell whether the Lithium has taken away those parts and left me as the "correct" version of myself, or if it's not working. Part of me wants to blame all of my faults on the disorder, and if the Lithium really is working, then I can't do that. How do "normal" people feel? Explain to me the difference between happiness and mania; between being down and being depressed. I know that in the end it's just something I'll have to figure out. It's just hard on days when the only word I can use to describe how I feel is "weird."

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26205933/

WHY?!

Argh!

Hate.

PA's Got the Right Idea

I foresee similar conversations with my friends about our children in the future. Maybe these kinds of discussions will help me get inspiration for my werewolf story.

Conflicted

I love living with Trevor.
I miss my housemates.
I love my bosses.
I miss my coworkers.
I like my job.
I miss school.
I like having enough money.
I miss being up after midnight and still getting enough sleep.
I like having a steady schedule.
I miss naps.
I like not having homework.
I miss reading all the time.
I love my apartment.
I miss Comic House.
I love Writers' Group and Coffee Night.
I miss Heroes Night and even Chore Days.
I love eating out.
I miss Wren's cooking and even the SUB.
I love having time to write and play video games.
I miss cramming an episode of a TV show between study sessions.
I like the present.
I miss the past.

Revelation

I have figured out the secret to every football strategy.

1. Win.
2. Don't Lose.
3. Repeat.

Everything is so clear now!

I Love Harry Potter Fanfiction

Quotes taken from hilarious fanfic:

*****
Voldemort = "He-Who-Was-Never-Hugged-As-A-Child" AKA "The Dark Fuck"
Harry = "The Boy Who Wouldn't Fucking Die"

Imagined convo if Volemort randomly went out to get some milk:
H: "Oi! What are you doing here, Voldemort?"
V: "I'm getting milk and eggs, Potter..."
H: "Oh... well... while you're here... do you think we should... you know... duel?"
V: "Hmm... I don't know, Potter... these eggs will go bad if I don't get them in the cooler..."

*****
Props to that fanfic author!

The Bicycle Project, Part 1

Date due: 8/3/08
Premise: Everyone writes a story or makes a piece of art, etc, that is somehow related (if only loosely) to the idea that a bicyclist gets hit by a car and is killed. Ongoing project.

Sentinel

I don’t think I’ll ever really understand why I chose to bike to work that day. At this point, even thinking about it seems pointless, but I can’t make myself stop. Would things have been different if I’d made Annabelle drop me off? Would I have lived another twenty, or even fifty years? Would there have been children? I don’t have to wonder what’s happened to her since I’ve been gone: we’re allowed to watch what goes on there. But they won’t ever show me what might have been. Brian says there’s no point, because everything that happened was planned from the Beginning and only He can know which choices lead us to our destinies.

I remember the screech of tires on asphalt, a sickening crunch, searing pain, blood everywhere. Fat lot of good that helmet did me. The internal bleeding was too severe. I heard them say that as I lay half-conscious on the operating table. For some reason what I was most upset about at the time was the fact that my favorite shirt was ruined, as torn and bloody as I was. I mourned the death of that shirt as the heart-rate monitor told me I was flat lining and the Light I’d always thought was a cliché lead me away. We both died that day, my shirt and I.

The clarity I have here allows me to summon the compassion to worry about what will happen to the man who killed me. I have never been angry with him. It’s very difficult to be angry here. Brian would tell me that what that man did was all part of the Plan. I know he didn’t mean to do it. His name is John, just like mine. For all I know, I was the one at fault and now poor John is on trial for vehicular homicide. I hope he has a good lawyer. I know he has a wife, just as beautiful and caring as Annabelle, and they have children and he’s a good father and he doesn’t deserve to go away for this. If I asked, they might tell me what will happen to him. I don’t want to know yet. I’m just going to watch, and pray. I’ll pray that somehow whatever happens to him will make him a better person, because that’s what the bad times are supposed to do to us. That’s how He designed it.

A selfish and very human part of me sometimes wishes that Annabelle were here with me. I’ve refused to let Brian show me what will happen to her. He says it would comfort me, but I’m not so sure. I hope she finds someone else, and that they get married, and have children, and grow old together just like she wanted us to. But I’m not sure I could handle seeing all of that at once. Or worse, knowing that it will never happen, while at this moment I can see her curled up on our bed sobbing so hard I’m afraid she’ll suffocate. I feel so blessed to be missed that much, but her pain is almost unbearable to watch even when I know that somehow this, too, shall pass for her.

Everything here is light and thought and love and feeling and waiting joyfully in the knowledge that everything is as it should be. Some part of me knows that it’s time to stop watching—to “let go and let God,” and then all of life’s mysteries, the past, present, and future would be revealed to me in an instant and I would be consumed by a Heavenly sense of true understanding. Brian says it’s more beautiful than I can ever imagine, but all I can see is Annabelle past and present, afraid of her future. Apparently even in Heaven, some things take time.

Brian says I have Eternity, so I watch and wait.

Stegosaurus, Continued.

Apparently, my stegosaurus lunchbox is infamous throughout the building I work in. We only have one lunch room with one minifridge, but there are four floors of offices, so everyone shares space a bit. The microwave is also inconveniently located right above the minifridge.

I just went to pick up my lunch, and a man I've never seen before was in there microwaving something.

Me: "Excuse me." *goes to open minifridge and grab stegolunchbox, forcing Guy to move away from microwave*
Guy: "No problem." *sees me grab lunchbox* "Ahh yes, the lunchbox." (as if he knows it well)
Me: "Yeah..." *nervous smile*
Guy: "Is that yours? Or for your little daughter or something?" *joking, I think. I hope. Agh!*
Me: "Ohh, no. It's mine." *shameface*
Guy: "Well thank you for brightening up the fridge every day." *smiles genially as if I genuinely provide a service to the building*
Me: "...You're welcome?" *mumbles something about having a nice lunch and flees*

Is my stegosaurus lunch box seriously a major topic of conversation in this building? Now I'm afraid someone's going to steal it! Oh, why couldn't I have an unobtrusive paper bag like everyone else? This is what conceit and ambition have wrought!

Soul-Mate (My Day Thus Far)

• I'm exhausted. You're asleep.
• I forgot to take my pills last night. You offer me money to buy breakfast so I don't feel sick.
• I'm running late. You make the sandwich for my lunch.
• I'm miraculously on time. You make sure I'm okay before flopping back in bed.
• I'm having a difficult morning. You call just to tell me that the new Harry Potter trailer is out and insist on staying on the phone while I watch it.
• I have to get back to work. You suggest re-watching the fifth movie tonight. I propose marriage.
• I call to ask if you want a chocolate croissant. You agree that the answer to the problem of what to do for dinner is to eat six croissants each.
• You're amazing.
  

[Boss 2] Antics

The fact that she would send me this e-mail just because she knew I'd understand says a lot about how awesome my relationships with my bosses are:

SUBJECT: Workers
TEXT: are listening to Rush Limbaugh.
Want to kill them.
Or myself.
[2]

Context: [Boss 1] and [Boss 2] are having their bathroom remodeled, and therefore have workers in and out of the house all day.

Stolen from Wren

Copy the text below, erase my answers, then 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... You CAN'T use your name for the boy/girl name question.

WHAT IS YOUR NAME? Madeline
4 LETTER WORD: Mars
BOY NAME: Michael
GIRL NAME: Moira
OCCUPATION: Macroeconomist
A COLOUR: Mauve
SOMETHING YOU WEAR: Maroon
BEVERAGE: Milk
FOOD: Macaroni
SOMETHING FOUND IN A BATHROOM: Medicine
PLACE: Marylebone (London, England, UK)
REASON FOR BEING LATE: Mauled by zombie
SOMETHING YOU SHOUT: MORE!

Moving Forward

It's so nice having the dresser set up. All of my clothes are put away. In fact, my unpacking is essentially done apart from putting up a few pieces of art (which are waiting on a hammer). I feel like once we get all of the cleaning done (by tomorrow night), I might really feel at home in the apartment at long last.

I'm a little stressed out at needing to have the apartment clean and needing to be packed up for Kalaloch all by Friday night, and then being busy all day Friday which means that most of the cleaning and packing has to be done by Thursday before bed. But on the other hand, Friday is going to be amazing (tea, Mama Mia!, dinner at Spaghetti Factory, and the Dark Knight all in one day with (and paid for by) family and friends), and if anything this gives us a definite goal by which to get the place looking great, so we get to come home to a clean apartment after vacation.

I'm really looking forward to Kalaloch, so now I just be patient and productive until then. I also need to clear out this inbox at work so I don't come back to a mountain of work!

ZOMG!

The dresser is done!

And it's here and it's beautiful and it's full of clothes! Now all I need are some pretty knobs (must save money first). Pictures are forthcoming once the rest of the room looks respectable. We even bought a pretty tablerunner to protect the top from scratches.

So now we've begun the exhausting process of finishing my unpacking and overhauling (cleaning-wise) the apartment so that it's fit to be seen by any guests that might visit while my family is in town. I guess it'll be worth it when we get to come home from vacation to a clean apartment with a place for everything and everything in its place.

Things Maddo Should Not Do

1) Forget to take medication at bedtime on Saturday
2) Panic Sunday morning and take Saturday's dose immediately
3) Remember that one is only supposed to take full dose if taking at bedtime
4) Spend entire morning trying to turn stomach back into a bodily organ from its newfound state as viscera-eating monster
5) Wonder how the hell you're going to be a functional human being today

Lunch Time Revelations

Today I brought canned soup to eat for lunch. So I went down to the lunch room with my stegosaurus lunch box and began to heat up the soup in the microwave. About a minute into the microwaving, a youngish guy (probably 5-10 years older than me) came in and began to prepare his food.

Guy: "I'm about to do the same thing you're doing.... *pauses and notices lunchbox* stegosaurus."
Me: "Hey, Mr. Stegosaurus is way cooler than a brown paper bag! *looks at Guy's lunch bag disdainfully*"
Guy: "Yeah, but the bag has a certain nostalgic value."
Me: "That's true. I always had the brown bags growing up. I never had a cool lunchbox. *revelation* Maybe that's why I have to have one now!"
Guy: "Yeah, look at you, you finally made it to lunchbox status."
Me: "I'm a cool kid now!"
Guy: "*laughs* Yep."
Me: "... Well, enjoy your lunch! *leaves quickly*"

I Love My Job

The following is an e-mail exchange I had with my boss. I will call him [Boss 1]. The other boss is, of course, [Boss 2].

*****
Hey [Boss 1],

Any chance you have the Aarts file in a super-secret hiding place? [Boss 2] and I have no idea where it is.

Thanks,
Madeline
*****
No. There is no chance whatsoever of that. Or if there is, I shan't tell you. Bwah hah hah! I suspect [Boss 2] has it somewhere in a pile. That's my suspicion.

[Boss 1]
*****
[Boss 2] claims her piles are innocent. Who do I believe?!
*****
No one is innocent.

Vocabulary Story 2

Date due: 07/06/08
Vocabulary: Extreme, Awkward, Bluish, Quitting, Technology
Word count: 500-1000

Twenty Feet Part 2: Peter

Peter was not the kind of person who regularly asked for girls’ phone numbers, much less the kind who asked them back to his place. Having a roommate was risky enough without showing strange girls where he lived. But for Julie, Peter already felt like he would risk quite a lot. He couldn’t ask her to come home with him, though. Even if he had the courage to propose something so extreme, he doubted she would agree to it, and he felt that he might respect her less if she did. Her phone number couldn’t hurt, though. Could it?

He made a point of saving her number directly into his phone. This was a sign of good faith that he hoped would prove his seriousness, and it had the added bonus of allowing him to casually suggest that she take his number as well. It was possible that Peter had never been so happy about the existence of modern technology. He would gladly take back every snide remark he had made about sixth graders with iPhones in exchange for this moment.

“I will call you, you know.”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” she teased, before adding sheepishly, “Okay, I actually haven’t heard that one before.”

“And don’t be afraid to call me,” Peter added a little too enthusiastically.

“Am I that obvious?” she smiled shyly.

Julie said goodbye and crossed to the other side of the room where the door was. He willed her to glance back, and she did, but so briefly, before quitting the room. The expanse of twenty feet that lay between them was as unfathomable as the endless possibilities of the days ahead, but Peter would not let them slip by.

***

Peter awoke with a fleeting memory of the bluish-gray shade of Julie’s eyes, which had been barely discernable in the sickly yellow light of the soft glow bulbs in the lamps at the party. The sky above him was a similar shade of gray and he protected his eyes for a moment from the brightness reflected off of them. He felt as though he had slept in the most awkward position a contortionist might dream up. Everything hurt. He was covered in bruises, and he was quite certain of this fact because he was naked. He also had cuts and scratches all over his body and a fair amount of blood on him. His mouth was dry and a foul taste lingered in it.

He groaned and rolled over on the rocky ground he had apparently spent the night on, stood, and tried to orient himself. There had to be a way of dealing with this that wouldn’t lead to him accidentally dying from exposure. At least everything seemed to be all right for now. He was just in the woods behind his house. It was only about half a mile to his front door. Peter was grateful for the unusually warm temperature of this October morning, and prayed that he would meet no one on his way home. He was even more grateful when he found a decently sized stream in his path, and used the water to wash as much blood as he could off his skin.

John answered the door and smirked.

“Good party?”

“A blast,” replied Peter as he ducked inside and wrapped a blanket around himself. John and Ralph were used to him showing up at weird times in worse states, so it was no surprise that John did not pursue the conversation and allowed Peter to climb the stairs up to his room without further comment.

Miraculously, when he had made it safely to his bedroom, he found that his beloved boots were there intact, as were his wallet and cell phone. He must have remembered to get himself at least partially undressed before he left the house. Thank God. Peter winced as he twisted his body around so that the vertebrae in his back popped into alignment audibly.

He looked at his phone. One missed call: Julie. Peter swore. He hadn’t counted on her actually calling him first. He had waited a few days because he had hoped that that would make it seem like he was playing it cool. Now he felt like an idiot for making her wait. He brought up her number and pressed “send,” suppressing a nervous pang in his stomach that did not interact well with the significant nausea he was already feeling.

“Hello?” Her voice was just as he remembered it.

“Hi, Julie? It’s Peter.” Did he sound as nervous as he felt?

“Oh, hi Peter!” Peter prayed she was really as happy as she sounded.

“I’m sorry I missed your call last night. I was studying for this Physics exam and I fell asleep at my desk! But I’ve been meaning to call you and I’m glad you got a hold of me. Listen, there’s this great movie out…”

Coffee Shop Antics Continued

As I left the office yesterday and passed by the coffee shop, the three employees were sitting on stools in a circle. Two were playing acoustic guitar, and one was playing violin. I had heard the violin from upstairs, but would never have guessed it was the crazy coffee trio! The best part was, they aren't bad!

*****

Today (two days later) I came back from lunch to find the three of them sitting at the shop's only table playing "Sorry!" while they waited for customers.

Second Draft

Twenty Feet Part 1: Julie

From twenty feet away, Julie fell in love with everything about Peter, before she even knew his name. He was the kind of guy she had always hoped she could somehow be cool enough to attract. The look of him made her try, through sheer force of will, to turn her mind’s eye into a camera—any kind of tool that would allow her to etch him indelibly into her memory the way Shakespeare boasted he could do with his pen.

From across the crowded living room her eyes took in every physical detail they could discern, from the shade of crimson he had dyed his hair—a red that Julie thought she’d be more likely to find in a crayon box than on a drug store shelf—to the holes in his worn acid-washed jeans, to the scuffs on his Dr. Martens boots. She knew the state of his clothing and the studied disheveledness of his hairdo had probably all been carefully cultivated, but somehow the fact that he would try so hard to look like such a mess somehow made him even more appealing to Julie.

It was natural for Julie to feel like a foreigner when she went to a party like this. She only ever went to parties because friends or coworkers invited her and she felt as though it would be either rude or pathetic to refuse. Large-scale casual social interaction never came easy to her, but she had been fine with not fitting in very well up until tonight. That guy, though… He made her wish for the first time that she was a bit more like these people at the party. She wanted the confidence they seemed to possess. She at least wanted to be able to speak to someone like him without fixating on the fear that her heart would immediately be ripped out and defenestrated without ceremony.

And then Laura was at her side, and she wrenched her eyes away from him, suppressing the irrational feeling that he would cease to exist the moment she stopped looking. Unfortunately, Laura was too quick for her.

“Have you seen something you like, for once?” She smirked knowingly. Laura had always invited Julie to these parties with the view of finding someone for her. Julie, however, doubted that Laura had ever had much hope of success.

“What? No! …Maybe,” was Julie’s awkward and half-dazed reply as she shook herself from her reverie.

“I see. Shall I introduce you?”

Julie was simultaneously ecstatic, impressed, and horrified.

“You know him? Wait, no. No! Really, Laura, it’s nothing.”

“Why do I not believe you?” Laura grinned and, before Julie could make a motion to stop her, moved back around the edge of the room towards the spot where the object of Julie’s gaze was in conversation with a couple of similarly punked-out partygoers.

Julie waited on tenterhooks with her heart in her throat. Half of her was hoping that the guy would blow Laura off and she’d be spared the humiliation of meeting him, the other half willing everyone but her and him to spontaneously disappear.

As Laura approached with the man who could not possibly be as perfect as Julie imagined in tow, Julie forced herself to breathe normally and attempted to look composed.

“Julie, this is Peter. Peter, Julie,” Laura said simply, and promptly disappeared in much the same fashion Julie had just hoped that all of the party guests would do just a moment ago.

“Julie,” said Peter with a winning smile, holding out his hand.

“Peter…” Julie replied, dazed, and put her own hand in his to shake it.

“You’re not quite as loquacious as Laura told me you were,” Peter said with a chuckle.

Julie reluctantly withdrew her hand from Peter’s and looked up at him cautiously, waiting for her image of him to be shattered.

“I hope she didn’t tell you too much,” Julie smiled, trying to figure out what color Peter’s eyes were without scaring him off.

“Don’t worry,” he replied dismissively. “Besides, I believe that sometimes you can tell a lot about a person from twenty feet away, if you know what to look for.

Vocabulary Story

I've joined Trevor's writers' group as a way to keep myself motivated to be creative. The following is a vocabulary project (use certain words or phrases that are chosen the previous week in a story) that I did for tomorrow:

Date due: 06/29/08
Vocabulary: Crimson, Acid, Defenestrate, Foreigner, On Tenterhooks
Word count: 500-1000

Twenty Feet

Julie knew the moment she first saw him that he was the kind of guy for whom she had always hoped she could somehow be cool enough to attract. The look of him made her try, through sheer force of will, to turn her mind’s eye into a camera—any kind of tool that would allow her to etch him indelibly into her memory the way Shakespeare boasted he could do with his pen. But even as she remembered (with a mental facepalm) that her phone had a camera, she also realized that she would never have the courage to take a picture of him. So she stared at him across the crowded living room of the house that belonged to a coworker’s friend’s cousin’s family in an absurd parody of a scene from a classic romance film.

From twenty feet away, Julie fell in love with everything about Peter, before she even knew his name. Her eyes took in every physical detail they could discern, from the shade of crimson he had dyed his hair—a red that Julie thought she’d be more likely to find in a crayon box than on a drug store shelf—to the holes in his worn acid-washed jeans, to the scuffs on his Dr. Martens boots. She knew the state of his clothing and the studied disheveledness of his hairdo had probably all been carefully cultivated, but somehow the fact that he would try so hard to look like such a mess somehow made him even more appealing to Julie.

It was natural for Julie to feel like a foreigner when she went to a party like this. She only ever went to parties because friends or coworkers invited her and she felt as though it would be either rude or pathetic to refuse. Large-scale casual social interaction never came easy to her, but she had been fine with not fitting in very well up until tonight. That guy, though… He made her wish for the first time that she was a bit more like these people at the party. She wanted the confidence they seemed to possess. She at least wanted to be able to speak to someone like him without fixating on the fear that her heart would immediately be ripped out and defenestrated unceremoniously.

And then Laura was at her side, and she wrenched her eyes away from him, suppressing the irrational feeling that he would cease to exist the moment she stopped looking. Unfortunately, Laura was too quick for her.

“Have you seen something you like, for once?” She smirked knowingly. Laura had probably always invited Julie to these parties with the view of finding someone for her, but Julie doubted that Laura had ever held up much hope that her scheming would yield any results.

“What? No! …Maybe,” was Julie’s awkward and half-dazed reply as she shook herself from her reverie.

“I see. Shall I introduce you?”

Julie was simultaneously awed and horrified.

“You know him? Wait, no. No! Really, Laura, it’s nothing.”

“Why do I not believe you?” Laura grinned and, before Julie could make a motion to stop her, moved back around the edge of the room towards the spot where the object of Julie’s gaze was in conversation with a couple of similarly punked-out partygoers.

Julie waited on tenterhooks with her heart in her throat. Half of her was hoping that the guy would blow Laura off and she’d be spared the humiliation of meeting him, the other half willing everyone but her and him to spontaneously disappear.

As Laura approached with the man who could not possibly be as perfect as Julie imagined in tow, Julie forced herself to breathe normally and attempted to look composed.

“Julie, this is Peter. Peter, Julie,” Laura said simply, and promptly disappeared in much the same fashion Julie had just hoped that all of the party guests would do just a moment ago.

“Julie,” said Peter with a winning smile, holding out his hand.

“Peter…” Julie replied, dazed, and put her own hand in his to shake it.

“You’re not quite as loquacious as Laura told me you were,” Peter said with a chuckle.

Julie reluctantly withdrew her hand from Peter’s and looked up at him cautiously, waiting for her image of him to be shattered.

“I hope she didn’t tell you too much,” Julie smiled, trying to figure out what color Peter’s eyes were without scaring him off.

“Don’t worry,” he replied dismissively. “Besides, I believe that sometimes you can tell a lot about a person from twenty feet away, if you know what to look for.