The Cereal Bowl

2011-03-14T16:28:00.001-04:00

Energy and Trust

2011-02-02T12:40:00.000-05:00

My internal landscape has experienced a great change in the weather lately. I try not to let too many things affect me, but in this case, I think I need to let it.

I've always been pretty well-grounded. I've always had a certain way of seeing things. I'm extremely open-minded, but I always take what I hear and see along with my perception of the world as it has always been. In other words, I take everything into account as long as it jives with what I know. Which is pretty much the case with everyone, but I allow more leeway probably than most. I allow more space for the metaphysical and unexplainable.

But these new things, this new person: they've rocked me to the very core. I'm as I've always been. Nothing about my personality or my beliefs has changed. It's just the way everything relates in my head. The way I look at the world.

I've always been self-conscious to a fault, even self-centered. Really, the better word is probably "self-contained." I live my life in my head. Not much makes it out. As I've gotten older, I've learned to trust what goes on in there a little more and therefore I allow more out than I used to. But I still have a problem letting myself out to play with the other kids. There's a wall there that's hard to get over. The metaphor I used with C was that the walls in my head have chinks in them that allow me in as mist, but nothing more. Just enough to see a little bit of what's there, but not enough to do anything with it. This metaphor came about when C told me he felt like he'd broken down several walls in his mind. The way he did this was with energy.

The energy concept is one I took with a grain of salt when C first mentioned it to me. I didn't dismiss it, I just wasn't sure what to do with it. So I sat back and listened. The idea is that the body is full of energy and this energy can be controlled, manipulated, and put to good use on oneself, objects, and even other people. As I understand it, it's used in martial arts, massage therapy, and numerous Eastern disciplines. For a while, I just watched and learned, not sure if this sensation I was feeling was actually energy or if my mind was playing tricks on me.

But that's just the point. It is the mind. But it's not a trick. I didn't fully accept this until the other night when C talked me through an exercise. I can't explain it, but it was a feeling I was familiar with. It's the trill of panic when you're scared, the flush of warmth when you see someone you're attracted to, the movement of thoughts when you're concentrating. It's all that. Once I learned how to focus it, I could visualize what I wanted to do with it and make it work. Granted, all I can do so far is feel it and move it. But I'm getting better. Last night, I learned how to produce warm energy. It was all in my head. But it was real, and C felt it on his skin. It was real because we both let it be real.

It's common knowledge that humans only use 10% of our brains. Like the line from "Contact," "seems like an awful waste of space." You can't tell me the other 90% is useless tissue. It's full of neurons and electricity. Full of energy. This is about learning how to use it. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. It's what makes us human.

And it has taught me how to trust myself. More and more, I've allowed the external in and let myself out. I'm not all the way there. I'm still struggling with the fears and worries that hold me inside myself. That seems to be the rub to everyone learning about energy. And everyone who doesn't know or even accept its power.

The challenge is no greater than with everything I feel for C himself. He's subtle, very even-tempered. It's hard to see where his heart is. I know it's gigantic and solid gold, but I just can't find it. At least so far I can't. I've spent all morning considering where I should look. I've seen glimpses of it in smiles, glances, his touch, his embrace. But only glimpses. He keeps it guarded and relies on his mind to govern it, I think. When he trusts himself with it, then he may open a window. Whereas my instinct is to hold it out for anyone to see until I realize maybe they're frightened by the bloody spectacle and quickly put it away. Through experience, I've learned to resist my instinct. I still wonder if I should. Maybe what I need to learn is how to follow my instinct without blurting it out. Maybe I should wordlessly tap him on the shoulder and invite him to peek through the window, rather than pull the whole organ straight out of my chest and wave it under his nose yelling, "See what I got!"

I depend too much on the spoken word for confirmation. Sometimes words drain energy. They cancel it out or distract from it. Through all my considering this morning, I've decided I need to relax and shut the hell up. That's the source of most of my problems with people. I just don't know how to relax with them around. I'm too worried about how much I like or dislike them and don't know how to deal with it when they like or dislike me. That's not what's important. What's important is what you learn, give, and receive.

Negative or positive, it's all just energy. And energy penetrates every word. Sometimes the energy is too great and renders the word useless. Sometimes the word solidifies the energy, makes it concrete.

I get the feeling that once I've learned to trust myself, I'll know exactly when the word is needed and when the energy is enough.

The Shift

2011-01-24T11:15:00.000-05:00

Starting on New Year's Eve, I've sensed a shift in the vapors that make the world mysterious. It could just be a shift in myself, but it seems like it's affected everything in some ways. Haven't decided about that part yet.

It started for me when I was in line for the Jason Isbell gig at The Honest Pint in Chattanooga on New Year's Eve. The folks in front of me hadn't gotten their tickets yet, so I offered my extra to one of them. In their gratitude, they bought me a beer. Nice. Afterward, I felt a great surge of helpfulness. I offered extra chairs at my table to strangers, helped people find ashtrays and tipped my server as well as I could. The show was incredible too. It felt good to be helpful and everyone was in a great mood. I mean EVERYONE in the bar. Even Isbell and his band.

Since then, I've continued to try to be a little more friendly to folk. By nature, I'm taciturn and even a tad antisocial because I'm reserved and rarely find compelling conversation to be had. But I've found folks to be a little more easy-going so far this year. Again, it may just be me. I've had lovely conversations with a lot of different people, new and old. It's like some wall has been dropped or the mysterious vapors have thinned. I've discovered a new well of confidence in myself and I feel better than I have in years. I don't feel as isolated. Every time I go out, I see friends to talk to or someone willing to play a game of chess. That's probably always been the case, but I suppose I'm more willing to approach them now.

I'm still broke most of the time, but it doesn't get to me like it used to. I've learned to conserve better and to deal with what I've got instead of fretting over what I don't.

And it's paid off. I just worry that everything will crash down again. It's been a long time since I had any measurable confidence in myself. I just have to learn to roll with it better than I have, I reckon.

I just feel different for some reason. Freer maybe. I had a dream a couple nights ago that really cemented that. All it involved was a door opened suddenly into a blue night with forest and maybe mountains beyond. It opened so quickly, it startled me awake. But it didn't scare me. I went back to sleep feeling more at ease. I slept very well that night. I always sleep well, but I slept VERY well after that.

And I've slept well every night since.

Having One of Those Moments

2010-12-09T12:31:00.000-05:00

Years ago, after I broke up with a horrible ex, he screamed and yelled at me and cursed me. Literally. His words were, "I curse you! I hope you'll never be happy!"

A horrible thing to wish on someone whether you believe in curses or not. I'm not sure if I do believe in curses, but sometimes I worry that his had some power behind it. Because I can't seem to satisfy myself with anything lately. Christmas is looking rather gray because I'm broke and I can't do what I'd like for my family and friends. And my future is just so uncertain. There are so many things I want to do, but they all require money, which is something I've never been blessed with. I wouldn't care anything about it if it wasn't required for EVERYTHING. I can't even go visit friends or family out of state without worrying about how I'm going to pay for the gas to get there.

Beyond that, I want to go back to school, travel, enjoy a concert every once in a while, spend all day in a museum. These things should be so simple, but seem incredibly far away to me right now. I work hard and try to entertain myself, give myself projects to keep me sane, hang out with friends and enjoy occasional company, but nothing contents me anymore. I'm restless and I feel useless.

Then comes the part when I tell myself it's all my own fault. If I was braver or more willing to give up the things that give me comfort, maybe I'd be closer to where I feel I should be at this age. Then I worry about getting older and becoming the ridiculous old woman at the bar who everybody thinks is crazy because she drove away the ones who loved her and the ones she loved never loved her back. I sometimes see myself as that old lady that younger poets write about and that makes people thankful for what they have.

I am thankful for what I have, but this little part of me that I wish I could switch off can't stop thinking about the things I don't. I know I have to learn to roll with it and not worry about it or I have to figure out a way to earn those things I don't have. I just don't know where to start or what path would lead me there. I used to comfort myself with the thought that "I'll figure it out someday." But now I'm getting too old for that. Maybe that's what has kept me from the success (or at least the CONTENTMENT) I always imagined. That procrastination. That "I'll figure it out eventually" mindset.

But how do you get out of that? I've made so many weird plans that never happened because something else got in the way. Maybe I've been too busy looking for an easier path to see the one I really want to follow. But after so long, how do you start over with no resources. I've been wandering the woods too long. I've run out of food and water and my clothes are threadbare. I'm afraid now I'd never survive that rougher path.

Sorry for the despair, folks. Just having one of those moments. I'll get over it and reset myself. I've done it plenty of times. I'll reset myself and start looking around for that path I probably didn't see before. Retrace my steps. Maybe I won't end up back here again.

8497 - Way Behind

2010-11-15T12:36:00.000-05:00

So I'm over my fit and I realize I really need to get cracking. This one part is taking me way too long to write, but it's winding down and hopefully from there it will get quicker.

Micah and I had to properly prepare for the new Harry Potter movie by indulging our mutual laziness with a years 1-6 marathon. Was totally worth lounging around all weekend, but the time has come for action.

I've come near to admitting that this nanowrimo challenge is not meant for writers like me, but I accepted this personal challenge, so I have to at least attempt to see it through. Hopefully I'll find myself in a proper place to bust out 10,000 words in a couple days. I've done it before and I'm perfectly capable of doing it again. Now I just have to get my mind right and steamroll through the rest of this long and arduous section of the novel.

It's rainy and gross here today, which tends to be prime writing conditions. Bring me the magic, O Muse.

Thoughts on Nanowrimo from 6026.

2010-11-08T11:00:00.001-05:00

True I haven't gotten as far as I'd hoped. True I've been attempting to maintain a life during all of this. True my novel is going to need some editing.

But please forgive me nanowrimo folks, if I do not share your enthusiasm for word wars. I know the point of this is to get as much down as possible, but at the cost your work's integrity?

I'm sorry, but even if I am going to attempt 50,000 words in one month, they're going to be decent words that make sense and tell the story the way I want it told. And maybe some of you are capable of the word counts past 50,000 that I often see the second week of November. And hats off you are capable of that many words that quickly that do tell a good and engaging story. But how many writers are REALLY capable of a novel full of turns and twists and character development and their own blood, sweat, and tears and some kernel of a truth that they want to communicate that's past 50,000 words after two weeks?

How long did it take Jane Austen to write Pride and Prejudice? How long did J.D. Salinger spend on Cather in the Rye or did Melville spend on Moby Dick? It's true we're not Austens, Salingers and Melvilles. I'm very aware of that. But really. 50,000 words in two weeks?

And I'm sorry I am slow, nano group. But my slowness means you don't even want to allow me to share what I had written during that 10 minutes when you were all racing each other to see who could spill their soul the quickest? Because I'm not fast I don't count? Really? Maybe I don't in this particular exercise. Maybe I'm missing the point of this.

Nonetheless, I will continue to slowly climb my way toward 50,000. And hopefully I'll be pleased with them all when I earn the privilege of a bound copy. It'll take me longer and I'll probably continue to say odd things that don't matter to the speed writers, but by God I'm doing this my way. Are you?

So It Begins

2010-11-01T11:52:00.000-04:00

Now it's November and the enormity of 50,000 words before December has hit home. That's a lot of damn words. But I suppose I got off to a good start. I haven't done my writing for the day, but last night (after midnight, so I'm counting it, kids) I wrote about seven half pages worth of a scene further down the line. I'll probably rewrite it when I get to it again (I'm going to attempt to stay in order), but the idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I had to write it last night. That's how it has to be done lest I forget everything.

I haven't counted the words. I'll save that for when I type it later. I always handwrite first, then type and edit the first draft at the same time. It's easier to concentrate with a pen in hand and it's easier to be brutal to your writing when you're typing and have all the powers of cut and paste at your fingertips.

I suspect the cigar bar will see a great deal of me this month since my brand new desk top will be away having its integrated video card replaced (this has caused much pulling of hair and gnashing of teeth, but I'm over it now - kind of). I love to write in public places simply because it gives you enough distraction to keep yourself sane, but not so much that you can't plug in your headphones and ignore the mess around you. Plus the mess can sometimes serve as excellent inspiration. Lots of brainwaves flying around helps too, I think.

50,000 words, I shall write you and make you my bitch. That's a promise.

Phase II

2010-10-29T15:33:00.000-04:00

Finally finished going through the parts I'd already written and on to phase II of the planning stage. That would be answering the questions I asked myself about each part of the novel. I make something like a worksheet for this. I included a quick summary of the scene/chapter/section and pinpoint problems with it, things to avoid when writing it, and of course I ask myself questions. Like "How does she feel about ______?" and "How does she react to _______?" and "Why doesn't he ask her about _______?" This helps me to figure out what I need to accomplish in the scene.

The worksheet looks like this:

and is about thirty pages long. (I don't half-ass anything when it comes to the novels.)

Before I attempt this, however, I've got a scene I probably need to get down before I forget it. I'm not even sure if I'll use it in the finished product, but that's why I need to write it. If it looks like it'll work it'll go in. If it looks like it'll suck or drag the story, it will be unceremoniously flushed.

It's a brutal business.

Nanowrimo

2010-10-27T14:55:00.000-04:00

I attempted nanowrimo last year and failed miserably, clocking in barely 2000 words. Somewhere around the second week, I decided that I'm not meant to write 50,000 words in a month because I'm deliberate (I refuse to concede that I'm slow). But that excuse seems rather pale, so I figured I might as well give it another shot.

This year, instead of forcing myself to work on the novel I feel like I should work on, I'm working on the one I want to work on. The one I keep getting ideas for even though it's kind of more of a silly/fun thing. And I'll be more prepared this time. I have one big Circa notebook dedicated to this. I put notes, worksheets, and existing parts in the notebook along with plenty of clean paper. At the moment, I'm reading over the parts I've written and making notes on them. Next, I'll be supplying myself with a few visual aids to help out. The main things will be floor plans for all of the important rooms and homes, etc. For some reason with this one, I'm having a really hard time visualizing the settings. Hopefully this will help.

Right now everything is looking like this:

and this:

In any case, kids, Happy Nano.

For once I'm going to attempt to document this process just because... well... I'm not sure why. Just seems like the thing to do.

A Word on Words

2010-08-11T11:46:00.002-04:00

Hey kids. I've been rather preoccupied with the passive insanity (or is that inanity?) of my mental landscape, which appears to have experienced a little bit of a tectonic shift.

Poverty has forced me inward which is the last thing I need, truth be told. But with no options for diversion, I'm hoping I'll get bored enough to finish washing the dishes that are still packed in boxes (since April) and finish setting up my apartment. It's starting to get on my nerves (yes, it takes me four months to be oppressed by a mess).

But that's not why I felt like blogging today.

As some of y'all know, I'm a legal assistant. Lately my job has been making it more and more difficult for me feel in any way important. I had one of my impatient days yesterday and I REALLY had to watch myself. Everything pissed me off. So in an attempt to vent some of this dissatisfaction, I tried to wrap my head around why my job was making me so angry.

Then it came to me. It's the use of words. Words are EXTRAORDINARILY precious and interesting to me, so I have a very pronounced reverence for the way they're used. It just occurred to me HOW differently they're used in varying pursuits.

I decided that lawyers EXPLOIT words. A lawyer's use of words is crucial to his job, which is why a lot of lawyers get their undergrad in English or Linguistics. It's crucial because they have to be able to twist a word around and make it work for them - to wrench a version of the truth from it - the version that serves their purpose the best.

Writers/novelists EXALT words (at least some of us try to - admittedly not all accomplish this). A writer looks a word from every angle, caresses it, gets to know it, and dresses it up. Different authors have different senses of style of course. Some prefer a simple summer dress while others want to put their words into showy frocks. Some writers have no fashion sense - at all. (I just finished reading the Twilight series - laugh all you want - and while the characters are good and the story is addictive, the language is DREADFUL. In Meyer's case I think the words were just a means to an end - "well hell, I reckon my words can't go out naked, so I'll dress them in whatever smells the cleanest.")

Media EXPLOITS, USES, and NEGATES words. In other words, media (admittedly not all) destroys their meanings and makes them mean something else. I'm not attacking the media. They can't help what they are. They feel a need to either present the words naked, polish them to a nice shine, or splatter mud all over them. This changes how the world views the word. The media is where a perfectly healthy and appealing word goes to die.

Scholars and academia try to EXPLAIN them. I kind of fit into this category as well as the writer's category. Scholars have to understand the words. Scholars make an attempt to work against the media to bring the dead word back to life or to change it into something more useful than the mangled mess that was left. Scholars know where and how the word was born, and they try to reflect that.

All of the above are reasons why I have a Compact OED (and why it's one of my prized possessions), about 20 books on word origins, and a few dictionaries and thesauri. I try to take the ill uses with a grain of salt until I can see the truth or the lie behind them. I study their shape and color and decide what outfit would most become them. I study it so I don't forget it.

I really wish more people cared about our sad little words. Maybe they wouldn't be so easy to manipulate if they did. And indirectly, the people caring wouldn't be so easy to manipulate either.

Have Come to a Decision

2010-06-30T11:45:00.001-04:00

I'm going to Kennesaw State for the MA in Professional Writing. I'm so tired of this constant state of stagnation. I need to use my brain to the best of its abilities and I've missed learning new things for years now. The plan is to pay for the GRE next month and schedule it within a month or two. In October, I'm going to the Graduate Open House. I'll apply either soon before or soon after that. I hope to start in 2011 - maybe Spring. I need to pay some credit cards and things off before I start. Will also need a new car to make that drive every day.

The one thing that scares me is the whole money thing. Work and supporting myself and paying rent and eating. I know I won't be able to do all the classes at night. I'm hoping my current office (or new one if I get a new job) will be flexible and let me work part time or come in at night or something. I'll figure that out when I get to it. But it's decided. I have too much going on in my head to be wasting away like this. It's incredibly frustrating.

Other Things:
- I don't know why, but music is hitting me harder lately. Maybe this is a sign that the muse is starting to sing.

- I admit that I have seen two Twilight movies and read the first book recently. I hate that I really enjoyed them. But I did. The writing is dreadful, the grammar atrocious. But the characters are interesting and the plot sucks you in like all dreadful pop culture things most people consider a guilty pleasure. It's an agonizing pleasure for me. There's something fundamental in all the Bella/Edward stuff that appeals to some deep kernel of something in the heart of most women, I think. This could just be me justifying my enjoyment.

- I reread the beginning of one of my novels last weekend. I wrote it last year while I was unemployed. The writing was slow and tedious as I recall. I really took my time and took care to get everything just so, keeping in mind some new style rules I'd assigned myself. The result is the first thing I've written that I don't want to completely rewrite. There are a few changes I probably need to make, but nothing big. Was very pleased with myself. Now I just have to work on getting past the part where I'm stalled. I'm ciphering about it and I think I may be close to solving the problem.

- I've been something of a recluse lately because I'm broke, but it's been good for me. I think we all need those little spans of time.

Help me learn how to describe facial expressions.

2010-06-10T21:32:00.000-04:00

I explain it all (rather inarticulately) in the video. I figure I can't ask my readers to do something I won't do myself, thus the video.

Upcoming Blog

2010-06-10T13:11:00.000-04:00

I got an idea from a friend of mine who had to do a speech for an online English class. They had to record the speech and post it on youtube.

In any case, this gave me an idea for working on characterization. More later when I get home from work. I'm posting this teaser blog as a way to keep myself from being lazy and not doing it. Now I have an obligation. See how that works? It's good to know your own mind and habits.

Lately

2010-05-25T15:24:00.000-04:00

This has been an odd month. In some ways it's been lovely and in others it's just been hectic.

At the beginning of the month, I found myself restless and going out practically every night. During that process, I did make a wonderful new friend although I'm afraid he seeks something more than friendship. I hate having that talk with male friends. The whole trite "I like you, but not in that way" thing sounds so ridiculous and childish, but I've yet to come up with anything better. I also hate that men and women are so overwhelmed by our hormones these days that we can barely be friends. Something more is always expected, then when one party doesn't want anything more, the second party gets pissed off or their feelings are hurt and you're no longer friends. I hate that. I get along with men much better than women, but I don't want to sleep with all of my male friends, so they get bored once they realize it ain't happening and then I lose yet another good friend. Anyway, I'm hoping he'll understand and maybe we won't have to have the talk, but I ain't holding my breath.

A couple weeks ago, I went to Chattanooga to walk around, take pictures, and do a little research for one of my novels. That was wonderful. I love Chattanooga and if I ever manage to get enough stuff paid off and if I can get over my fear of uprooting, I want to move there. I got a lot of great pictures and good ideas and clearer visions of the novel in question. I plan to go back soon to get a little more done. I went with my new friend mentioned above, and while wonderful fun, I didn't get as much work done as I'd like to have. I think I'll stay overnight next time too. I also plan to borrow my parents' new house (that they have furnished but haven't moved into yet) in the mountains (Northeast Georgia) to stay and do some research for another novel. Really looking forward to that too.

Last week, I found myself getting incredibly annoyed with work. Nothing major happened and I didn't get overstressed or anything. I just lost my patience with every aspect of my job. Because I know this isn't where I belong, and I know this isn't the best use of my time. But I do have to pay my bills and the only way to do that is to keep slaving away like the drone I've become. I can usually deal with it pretty well as long as I have other things to amuse me during my free time and as long as I can continue to write and live, but I have my moments when I just resent the day Man came up with the brilliant idea of currency. I'm sure that innocent little cave-dweller had no idea it would one day rule the lives of his descendants.

The past couple weeks, I've discovered a need to chill and to have some time to myself - enough to maybe get some things done. But all through this, there have been invitations to hang out, good visits with Dodd, bad visits with Dodd, arguments with Dodd, and peals of laughter with Dodd. Has left me little time to relax.

Really needing a day off from everything and everybody except the pen and my characters. I keep getting this feeling like the only way I will ever find any sense of contentment with my career/life is to finish and publish a novel. I HAVE TO FINISH SOMETHING SOON! That becomes a more and more prominent thought with every day that passes. The problem is finding the time and balance of time to do it. Being more a "marathon" person, I have a difficult time stealing 15 minutes or even an hour a day for writing. I need at least three hours if I really want to accomplish something. Granted, that could be my problem. But no matter what I try or what method I try to figure out, my writing suffers from cursory sessions. So what's a girl to do?

ESCAPE could be my only recourse. Mountains, I'll see you soon.

Poem

2010-05-05T01:58:00.003-04:00

the leaves having seen the sun
fall in love with it madly
while the root hides in darkness
lest the whole die
the root hears the whispers of the leaves
depends on their stories for hope
while the leaves scowl and smile below
knowing the root makes them live
but keeps them from the sun

copyright 2010

This is What's Wrong with the World

2010-04-19T14:07:00.000-04:00

So of course last week I posted a link to bloginterviewer.com so that folks might vote for my blog and perhaps draw more readers.

Since then, my simple little blog has been bombarded by spam comments. This irks me to no end. It's amazing to me how opportunistic punks will do their best to penetrate the smallest chink to try to get you to buy their service, their crap, their whatever. I know it's just the way of things and I'm used to this kind of bullshit, but the fact that it exists just sometimes makes me want to scream.

I'm not trying to make any money off anything. If I do anything, I'll monetize for a few cents to keep my bank account for getting overdrawn. I have no dream that blogging could make me rich. I don't even want to be rich. I just want to be comfortable and have some fun sometimes.

It just hurts me very deeply that my silly little ramblings have been thus polluted just when it starts to get a small following. It makes the satisfaction less enjoyable.

So, thanks to the bots and spammers, I've changed my comment settings. You'll have to punch in the code and I have to approve them all. I hope this doesn't deter anyone (a REAL person who might actually want to read my blog) from commenting. I do enjoy comments.

Much luck in your own blogging endeavors. Maybe together somehow we can fight these blood-sucking leeches who prowl the blogsphere.

I Feel So Very Special

2010-04-15T10:41:00.000-04:00

http://bloginterviewer.com/music/the-cereal-bowl-jennifer

One of my wonderful readers apparently recommended my blog to bloginterviewer and the interview is now up on the site. I am truly flattered that someone thinks my babbling is interesting enough for such a recommendation.

If you like what I do here, please vote for my blog. I like prizes. :^)

One of the Good Ones

2010-04-13T16:13:00.000-04:00

As I may have mentioned before, I'm a gigantic music nerd. I have entire novels I've revamped because of one or two songs.

This is one of them:
"Danko/Manuel" - The Drive By Truckers (or in this case, Jason Isbell & The 400 Unit).

Which brings us to my subject today.

Jason Isbell is in my top five favorite musicians. Why? Because he's close to home. He's from Muscle Shoals, Alabama, and he's got the accent and the history to prove it. He's well-educated too. A fellow English major.

But above all, the man has a poet's soul. A poet's soul and a Southern accent are enough to make me a fan for life, but on top of this, he's got that power of observation that is so rare in musicians these days, but should be a requirement for them. Just like writers, musicians have to know the pulse of the world. Have to see the problems and savor the perfections. Isbell is one of the few.

He used to be in a band called the Drive-By Truckers. I was already a gigantic fan of theirs because they tell the truth - the gritty, dirty truth. But they tell it with reverence. There's an air of veneration in even the darkest of their songs. Veneration for the South, for past generations, and for the truth. It's downright unbelievable.

Perfect example: "Outfit" (one of Isbell's from his Truckers period.)

Isbell left the Truckers a couple years ago, but neither he nor the Truckers have lost any of their edge or appeal. Although granted, I do miss Isbell's influence on the rest of the Truckers and vice versa.

To the point, I love Isbell because he's the perfect representative for folks like me and my friends and my family. Folks in this area have precious little to represent us, and to have a gift like Isbell pop up out of the blue maybe eight years ago is a downright blessing. He takes the stereotype of a hillbilly/redneck and both destroys and explains it in his music, his lyrics, and even interviews.

Like this one - I just saw this interview today when I was bored at work and surfing youtube. Tell me you don't love a phrase like "blatent escapism" delivered in a North Alabama accent:
(sorry about the ad at the beginning)

Besides that, though, the man has a soul. He's one of the most personable people I've ever seen on a stage, and you know he's got a story to tell.

He's one of those people who you just want to talk to. If I ever meet him (after I get over the daze of actually meeting him), I won't gush and tell him how great he is. I want to ask him where he came up with his outright dark, sinister story songs like "Decoration Day."

And how in the world the same mind (along with his brain trust, the 400 Unit) came up with something as personal and real as "Streetlights."

So just a suggestion. If you're bored with the music you're hearing and wanting to try something new; if you're from the rural South and wonder why nobody has the balls to tell its story; or if you want to know what it's like to be from the rural South, download some Drive-By Truckers (I recommend The Dirty South or Decoration Day to start) or some Jason Isbell (all of his - download it now).

Sorry to regale my loyal readers with so much fangirl geekery, but sometimes, it's just got to be done.

I Wrote this little bit Saturday night

2010-04-12T14:58:00.001-04:00

I think/hope the person it's about (the last part anyway) reads this blog. If you still do, you know who you are. :^)

She and this girl had come to the same conclusion at the same time. I'm better than this...but I won't pretend I'm not going to visit from time to time.

It wasn't about where she lived anymore, but where she was. And this young girl knew it too. But at least she has time to enjoy and hate the lessons learned. Time to allow it to mold who she really is.

I've already been there.

Done that.

Time to take her place where she belonged. With someone who already knew and cared what she wanted and what she was. The throwback. Throwback being such a harsh term, she didn't like it. Because he was better than a throwback.

Four years and two miserable wake-up calls later, maybe they were both ready to grow up. Together this time. They would never allow each other to sell out in the process of grabbing hold of their lives. They'll pick out the most colorful pieces and weave them together with their baby blankets and prom pieces. That vital self-knowledge that comes with age will serve them as long as they pay it heed.

Why stay so young when you know you'll never allow yourself to fade away?

So she said goodbye and I'll see you sincerely. But she carried away a much lighter heart.

(copyright 2010)

What do y'all think?

My Writing Journal's Dust Layer Shall Be No More

2010-04-02T17:02:00.001-04:00

I was outside smoking a cigarette this afternoon watching the tiny blossoms fall from the Bradford pears flanking the parking lot of my office building. I love things like that. Nature at its most graceful. I wanted to write down the description, but I stopped bringing my writing journal with me everywhere.

I figured out why as I enjoyed the cool breeze on this gorgeous spring day, feeling the writer in me come back to life. I don't know if it was the season, the house I was living in (I moved last weekend - YAY!), or just my general state of mind; but none of these things was right. None of them made me content. As a matter of fact, I've been in a darkness for quite some time, and I'm just coming out of it.

I'm not going to go all emo on you and say I was in the depths of despair because I simply wasn't. My mind was dusty. It needed the spit and shine of a new house, a new season, and a new view of the world. These things are so important for a person's sanity. Things come in stages and every time one of these things changes, a new stage starts. When they change all at the same time, it could be a life-altering one. I think that's where I am.

I unpacked the journal last night, but it didn't occur to me that I need to start toting it again until today. So welcome back you wonderful little Classic size "Cafe Terrace at Night" covered wonder. I missed you. I think you missed me too.

Happy Spring kids.

True Bling

2010-03-03T23:20:00.003-05:00

I watched “The Sound of Music” tonight for the first time in a long time.

I saw it at Wal-Mart among various other titles I might have bought, but something told me to buy “The Sound of Music.” I have fond memories of watching it when TV was still cool enough to show things like “The Wizard of Oz,” “Ben Hur,” and of course “The Sound of Music” once a year. I don’t know about y’all, but that was a big deal in my family. We REFUSED to miss any of these films the one night a year they came on because we didn’t have a VCR until I was nearly in high school. As an adult I’ve looked on it simply as nostalgia. A breath of fresh air for my polluted adult attitude.

But tonight, “Aidelwiess” in particular made me rather misty. I never get misty at movies. But something struck me about all of it and I didn’t know why until a few scenes later at the ball Captain Von Trapp throws right before Maria leaves for the convent again. In the scene, Maria and the captain dance an old Austrian folk dance. And nostalgia grew into something like regret.

Why aren’t folk dances appreciated anymore? Why does everyone feel the need to booty dance and grab-ass at a party? Yes, it’s true that people still do folk dances and ballroom dancing, etc. But not MOST people. We don’t grow up learning these dances and the folk songs and stories that used to keep the whole of humanity from spiraling off the deep end of despair.

There’s such beauty in these things. Real beauty. Not what we think of as beauty today: the glitz and glam of false airbrushed beauty. The whole “ooohhh shiny” mentality has never set well with me. Shiny has no substance. All it does is reflect something back that we like to think we are, but aren’t. What we are lies in folk dances, beautiful melodies (like “Aidelwiess”) with simple lyrics that say nothing of sorrow or how messed up or angry the singer is or how they’d rather be bumping booties with the ho up the block. “Aidelweiss” is a song about a flower. A flower, people. And it nearly made me cry.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I’m all for freedom of expression and my ideas and thoughts are generally fairly liberal and always open-minded. Yes, I love Tool and The Afghan Whigs and The Beastie Boys. But all this needs to be balanced with something purer. Everyone needs to try to find their innocence again – or at least some part of it. Like gemstones or precious metals, innocence is rare and it should be treasured even if you only take it out for special occasions.

I've Been a Sad Little Blogger

2010-02-18T02:27:00.003-05:00

It's been a very long time since I posted mainly because life has gotten considerably more difficult in the past year or so. With a tanked economy, folks like me who weren't doing that great before everything went spiraling downward have only experienced more difficulties.

The month after my last blog, I was told that I quit by my employer because they knew I had just finished a certificate for medical transcription and panicked, thinking that I would just up and leave. I told them I would give them more than sufficient notice, but they didn't believe me and just went ahead and hired my replacement before I found a new job. And they made sure I wouldn't receive unemployment by putting on my separation notice that I had quit.

It took me a month to find a new job. I loved my new job at a medical office. I made good money and had great insurance and worked with incredible people. But then the economy tanked. I had ALMOST caught up from a month of ZERO income when they laid me off. At least I got unemployment benefits.

It took me four months to find my current job. It's okay, but there are no benefits and I only get paid once a month.

For these reasons and being trapped in two houses in a row that I am not comfortable in (places I rented out of desperation and not because I liked them), my more precious pursuits (writing, blogging, music, being outdoors, etc.) fell tragically to the wayside.

But I've gotten a number of signs lately that suggest several things:

1. I need to start blogging again - I'm so flattered that I've gotten so many comments on my last post recently. A post from nearly two years ago. Reckon the net is not as silent to my thoughts as I had assumed.

2. I need to start a website for unpublished writers - not the usual that is either all about publishing or all about submissions, but a site that focuses on the pursuit of writing. I've got a million ideas for this site. All I need is to play with GoDaddy once I can spare the cash for the domain.

3. Once the site is established and if a following develops, I'd like to start an online writing course that would offer several free lessons and a full course that I would offer for VERY cheap because I know we writers aren't known for our golden bath tubs. The only problem with this is that folks tend to give little credibility to writers who haven't published. But I think it's great to get advice from writers who are learning themselves. We'll see.

4. I need to try to get published. This will involve me learning how to write a short story. I suck at short stories. I want to tell the whole story, so I thrive on novels. But short stories are what gets you published to start out. I need to learn how to write essays or articles too.

In any case, thank you commenters for spurring me to this point of blogging again. I have missed it very much. I've already got some ideas for future blogs, so y'all should be hearing from me again soon.

I Feel More Alive Today Despite This

2008-08-15T15:58:00.001-04:00

I had a mix tape of Ryan Adams songs playing in the car while I drove around town today. I thought about how he used to be so much more down to earth in both his music and his public life. He’s kind of spiraled through the world of the famous and beautiful and it seems to have left him dizzy.

While I was listening to the music and enjoying the drive (for the first time in a while), I drove by a large chunk of property that had apparently sprouted a forest of “Auction” signs. It made me immediately angry because most of my town’s beauty has been entirely undermined and nearly destroyed by commerce and industry.

Then I had a thought of how our country (and maybe the rest of the world) has been so corrupted by money and consumerism. Men are busy trying to be God and women are trying to be Mother Nature, then selling and therefore forgetting what they’re trying to emulate. We’re busy recreating the world instead of living in it as it is. This is the root of everything that’s wrong with the world today. Money makes us buy and sell things that are no longer precious to us. We spend trillions of dollars every day trying to adapt the world to us as opposed adapting ourselves to the nature of the planet. And all this makes us lose contact with the ground and the very atmosphere.

What the hell happened? Why do we have this insatiable drive to become masters of everything. Why can no one be content with just being a student of everything? This lust for lordship has even infected those that would ordinarily bring us back to ourselves (like Ryan Adams). I shudder to think how much farther we can take ourselves from the basic joy of being a resident on the planet.

Been bad

2008-08-14T11:51:00.003-04:00

Yeah, I've been preoccupied with attempting to find a job, so I haven't been blogging regularly. I'm sure my two readers are destroyed. ;^)

In any case, there will be some new stuff soon. Don't forget about me.

Best Job for the Body.

2008-07-03T09:24:00.004-04:00

Something has recently occurred to me, but I'm not sure I should read too much into it because it could likely drive me nuts.

In recent months, I have developed 2 of what a doctor called a "bony prominence." One is on my left elbow and the other is on the heel of my right hand. Where did they come from? Well, probably from me being bored as nuts at work. I tend to lean on my left elbow when I'm at work - partly because my chair is too low and the back is too far back for me to be comfortable. Because of all this, in order to sit up straight (and not strain my back), I have to lean against the desk. As for the one on the heel of my right hand, it is CERTAINLY from using the computer mouse. I rest my hand against the desk and move the mouse with my fingers mostly.

Since I've worked a desk job, I have developed all kinds of aches and pains that I never had before. Granted, much of this may be aging, but I ain't that old yet! I've also gained a lot of weight (again, partially this is aging and quitting smoking). When I started this job, I wore a size 4-6. Now I wear a size 8-10.

The point is that human beings are not meant to be sitting down all the time. Our bodies form reactions against it (i.e. bony prominences). But we're not really supposed to be standing all the time either. Evidence of that is in the 12 or so years I spent in retail jobs and the sorry state of my knees and hips.

Given all this information, I've decided that people really ought to be up and about and doing a variety of things: walking to get places; sitting to eat, rest, and do a few tasks; standing to do a number of tasks. So really the best job for the human body would be something like a park ranger (for a small park where they can walk everywhere) or a curator for a historical site, etc.

So where does that leave those of us with no expertise in these areas? The best way is to start from oneself so in my situation, I'd probably be better off working from home on several projects and pursuits - transcribing, pottery making, writing, living in a place where I can walk most everywhere I need, etc. Of course, this is basically the modern American dream for creative types like myself and my dearest. So it would be nice to be able to settle for an office where you are allowed, given the time & an area, and forced to move around and do various tasks throughout the day. I'm sure some places already do this given the latest health movement that has taken off in recent years, and that's great.

It just seems to me that there could be a better way to work and live. It would be really great if we didn't have to choose "work to live" or "live to work" and we could all just live while we work.

When Passive Ought to be More Agressive

2008-06-30T08:56:00.004-04:00

I'm an expert of passive-agressive behavior. I'm more guilty of it than most people. In most situations my thinking is, "Well, I know I can take this thing that's bothering me, but I'm not sure if they can take me telling them I'm bothered. Well, I'd rather deal with this than cause a stink."

But the monarch of passive-agressive behavior is my darling dearest. I'm downright assertive compared to him. Whereas I come to a breaking point fairly quickly when something that has bothered me continues to happen, either he has no breaking point or when it comes, it'll be REEEEAAAALLLY messy.

I've talked to him about this a couple times, but I don't know if he's still being passive-agressive and becoming resentful without me knowing or if he's more tolerant because it's me or if he's getting over things that quickly. Whatever it is, I know he's been annoyed without telling me what was wrong. I've begged him to tell me anytime something I've done or that I have a habit of doing starts to get on his nerves. But he usually just asks me not to nag so much and that's it. I know there's more I do that bothers him. And it's bothering me even more that he won't tell me.

Yes, I can be a nag. Yes, I have asked him not to do some things that bother me, but my thinking is that if we don't get some of these things figured out and settled upon now, it's going to be that much harder to break some of these habits down the road when we may be sharing a living space. He needs to know that I'm NOT always going to be the one to do the dishes and I need to know that I'm NOT going to do this or that thing that may bother him. Maybe he hasn't had the benefit of being so INCREDIBLY run over like have. I know he's been taken advantage of A LOT, but so have I. I've lived in fear of asserting myself in the past and I've learned from it. You DO NOT allow yourself to be run over.

Neither of us should have to put up with it anymore - even from each other.

Days Off are Cool

2008-06-18T00:16:00.002-04:00

I'm just blogging right now for the sheer novelty of being able to blog from home.

Yes, at last I have the internet at home. It only took me three years and the threat of office railroading and the fear of being unemployed lest I find a nice cozy MT job. And that sentence is proof that I am very sleepy.

Also had to show off my hair. I finally found a color that actually looks red on my ever-darkening coif.

I dig it even though I look like ass in this picture.

Happy home internetting. :^)

I'm Trying Very Hard not to Freak Out

2008-06-10T12:07:00.003-04:00

I'm in a bit of a tizzy lately. I just took my final for my MT certification, and my employers knew I was almost finished. They know I'm leaving as soon as I find a job. It's also in the middle of summer and I work for an AC/HVAC company. Filling in the blanks yet?

Long story short, the company I work for is already looking for my replacement. Which makes me really afraid that I'm going to be booted out of here as soon as we get somebody trained. So now I'm freaking out. I HAVE to find a job SOON. And I have to look and apply to most of these positions online, so I have to get internet at home now. I'm just so worried I'm going to get this internet service, have all these bills and debts to pay, and then lose my job before I can find a new one.

Someone please reassure me or give me a transcription job.

>:^p

2008-06-03T13:42:00.004-04:00

I've been a very bad blogger. But not without reason. Lately, I've not had enough interesting things going on and too many mundane things going on to do much of anything besides go to dreadful work and go to class and/or work on assignments for class.

But, I'll be done with my MT certification next Tuesday and I'm taking the rest of the week off from after-work activities. Of course, I'll probably still be surfing the web for jobs and hopefully applying electronically. Seriously folks, I can't get out of my current job fast enough. It's driving me apeshit.

Maybe I'll have an epiphany here soon which will give me something to write about. Until then, back to doing my classwork at my job. I'd feel bad about this, but I have little to nothing to do until the higher ups get off their asses and do their part so I can do mine.

Can you tell I'm a little moody today?

Pimpin' My Ride

2008-05-19T15:25:00.004-04:00

Such that it is, anyway.

Now that my little car is on the mend and running better (though not perfectly), I've decided it's time to really show her a good time. It seems a shame to spend that much money on her and have her still look pitiful. When I get my state tax refund, I'm going to put most, if not all of it towards my little car.

Step 1 - Take her to Appleshine and get her washed inside and out - I'm talking a wax and Windex for the windshield, the works.

Step 2 - Get new wiper blades. The ones she has now are pitiful.

Step 3 - Accessorize! Seat covers to cover the less-than-lovely upholstery, a steering wheel cover to prevent further funkiness of the wheel, new floor board mats (because the old ones are NASTY), and a lovely scented thingy to hang from the rearview - or something. She still smells like cigarette smoke - ick.

Step 4 - Tuneage. It may be a little while before this happens, but I'm sick and tired of the trunk-mounted CD changer constantly skipping and I'm sick of being forced to listen to crappy radio all the time - so I called a car audio shop in town and got an idea of cost for replacing the radio and getting an in-dash CD player. It wasn't nearly as bad as I feared it might be, so that's going to be done after I make a couple payments on my credit card.

I'm hoping that I can manage to be a better car owner. I've been very negligent of my little chariot, and it's up and bitten me in the ass a couple times. It's time to be nice and hope for no further ass bites.

I'm still slightly obsessed with Nick Cave, so here's "Do You Love Me?" He's such a badass.

Give me a Break

2008-05-07T15:32:00.003-04:00

My back and shoulders have been killing me today, despite the fact that I haven't really exerted them - certainly not to warrent this kind of pain.

Then I realized why. It's probably because I spent pretty much the entire day yesterday in knots. I don't think I've ever been so tense in my life.

And why would an otherwise laid-back person be so tense? Because her friggin' car is dead.

Yeah, my dear little Zelphia blew a head gasket and cracked a head. We thought it was just a water pump, but once they had that on, they discovered this other dreadful malady. It's going to cost over a grand to fix, but I guess we're getting it fixed so I can at least get a decent trade on it. Zelphia has been suffering for a while because her caretaker is a loser who doesn't pay much attention to car health because she has a gazillion other things to think about. The temperature gauge never went up, so I have no idea of when or how this happened - maybe the whole not-having-any-water-in-it thing had something to do with it. I did put some water in the resevoir not too long ago, but I reckon the pump was that far gone. *sigh*

After I found all this out on Monday, I came home to discover that my doctor's office STILL thinks I owe them over $200 for a yearly exam that should have been totally covered by my insurance.

Oh yeah, and then I went to see my Dad for a minute so he could check the fluids on the car I'm loaning from them, and instead of the sympathy I needed, I got another reminder that it's probably my fault that I don't have a good enough job to afford to buy a new car. "Considering some of the choices you've made..." was what I got. He didn't mean it to be that mean. It's just how my daddy is - blunt and tactless. Gotta love him. I know it's true and I know I've made some bad decisions - I'm probably too aware of it. But his reenforcement of this did make me VERY angry and upset and I ended up having to throw keys and head to the bathroom to cry. Thanks a ton Daddy.

My mind stayed on all these things all day yesterday, and work didn't help matters - especially since this is my big payables week. I was near tears for probably half the day and I couldn't stop mentally beating myself up. Then I had to go to class to transcribe endocrinology reports which are often bad news and I feel bad for the patients even though the dictations I have are probably over 5 years old.

So as a result, my back hurts today. I've decided that after work, I'm going home, cleaning my kitchen, fixing a real meal, and working on my classwork so I can't be mad at myself for letting these usual tasks go unfinished - then I'm playin' Sims where I can type in a code to get more money and my only concerns are how to get my little characters to bed before they pass out on the floor.

Fun times.

Seeing this made me feel better today. Nick Cave cures what ails you.

Just a Brief Word on the Smokies

2008-04-24T13:29:00.004-04:00

Corey and I had an absolute blast last weekend. It was the perfect way to celebrate our birthdays and our anniversary.

For some reason, however, I just don't feel like divulging any details really. Not that the details are all that graphic or boring. I just don't feel like it. Call it laziness, call it whatever you will.

Just a few points of interest and a couple pics:

1. If you're staying somewhere with a hot tub and you start coughing from all the chlorine fumes in the tub, don't stay in for four hours.

2. Don't drink half a bottle of Gentleman Jack in a hot tub with too much chlorine (see #1).

3. Chlorine burn sucks (see #s 1&2)

4. If the description of the trail says "Easy to Moderate" NEVER count on it being more easy than moderate.

5. Grown men will squeal like girls if surprised by two King snakes impersonating rattle snakes.

6. Stay away from the trail edge if it's covered in leaves.

7. Log cabins in the middle of nowhere really are marvelous vacation spots (despite and even because of creeks you have to ford to get there).

8. McKay's Used Books and CDs is the happiest place on earth.

9. 30 is not so bad.

10. My boyfriend is the coolest man in the world.

There were pretty flowers everywhere. :^)

Corey might decide to hibernate.

Have Booney hat and water shoes, will travel.

Obligitory kissy pic.

Ideas and Anticipation

2008-04-14T14:54:00.003-04:00

This is going to be the slowest three days of work ever.

I can't WAIT until Thursday. I'm sitting here in the midst of a bunch of loud rednecks who consider themselves masters of the universe and I'm itching to get out of here. I'm turning up the Incubus song playing from my mixed CD, but anytime I play music here at work, it just kind of adds to the chaos that my ears can't handle. I just wish they'd duck back into their offices so their inordinately loud voices would be muffled some.

This little trip up to the mountains will be such a relief. I've been spending my (hours of) down time looking up trails near the cabin where we're staying. With every picture of some gorgeous waterfall, the anticipation has been building and building until I just had to stop my search lest I run screaming out the office door.

I try not to be so melodramatic about my job, and really try to get over myself and stop being so miserable at the office, but lately it's been more than I can rein in. I manage to maintain composure, but I swear there are some days when I think I'm just going to crawl right out of my skin. I'm not built to be sitting tied to a desk all the time. I'm built to be out exploring and recording and doing a little bit of everything. I'm sure everybody says that, though.

Before I start in with all the complaining again (I'm really sorry I complain all the time - I tell Corey that on a daily basis, bless his heart), let me just say that I'm uber excited about the trip. I'm sure for some folks this kind of trip is nothing, but this is the first REAL vacation I've had in nearly two years. And the one two years ago was only a weekend. This is 4 days - not much more than a weekend, but I'll take it.

Also, I came up with an idea. I think it's an idea. I kind of want to start a blog of short fiction, but with kind of a theme. I don't want to say anything about it until I really start working on it, but I think I might like to get someone to help me out and do illustrations - make it kind of a mix of an e-zine, blog, literary site type thing - maybe even expand the theme to include other media. We'll see. Anyway, it's in my head cooking. I'm going to attempt to write a few introductory things while we're in the mountains (if I can miraculously figure out how to write short fiction at the same time).

Maybe after this trip I won't be all complainy - here's hoping.

Don't ask me why I felt like posting this, but it just popped into my head and I like it.

In about 3 weeks, the downward slide begins.

2008-04-03T09:01:00.003-04:00

I am an old timer, old timer
It's too late to die young now
Old timer, five and dimer
Trying to find a way to age like wine somehow

I don't know if I'd consider myself an old timer, but here I am looking up at it; almost even with my line of sight.

Yep, the big 3-0. I'm still not sure how I feel about it. Corey keeps telling me that I'll like it better on the other side. He's probably right. The more I think about it, the more I realize that I just want to go ahead and be 30 and not worry about it.

The only thing that has been bugging me about my age lately is my career situation (or my lack thereof) compared to that of many people I know that are the same age or younger. It seems like all of my old friends that find me on myspace or facebook are very successful. They have great jobs that they like (if they don't love it) that pay very well. I get so embarassed to tell them that I've accomplished dick-all and that I can't even get it together enough to buy a house. In high school and college, everyone expected me to move way away from Calhoun and become successful in one way or another. Well, me too kids.

I guess I still kind of feel like a kid. I know that it keeps me young and blah, blah, but it also makes me feel like a slacker, a loser, a failure. It's taken me way too long to grow up. The thing that kills me is that I shouldn't be like this. I'm too smart to be in this (lack of) situation. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

At least I'm almost finished with the MT certification. Hopefully I'll find a job fairly quickly and start being less of a loser.

Forgetting all that, Corey and I are celebrating our birthdays in style (he'll be 35). We're heading up to a cabin in the woods to spend several days away from EVERYTHING and EVERYBODY because we need it. We're not even telling anybody where we're going. The reply is "somewhere in the Smokies." We're heading up on his birthday, coming home on mine, and in the middle, we'll be celebrating our one-year anniversary. It's a package celebration, and we're doing it up right.

I'm hoping and praying that my 30s will be as enjoyable as the way I'm starting them.

I couldn't find the Todd Snider song I quoted above ("Age Like Wine"), but I found this great video of him doing Seattle Grunge Rock Blues and telling a story.

Spring Cleaning - Phase 1

2008-03-25T10:43:00.003-04:00

Didn't know what I was I looking for
Maybe just a blanket or artifacts

I'm such a mess that I always have to take my cleaning in phases. I don't do it very often, but when I do, it's always a major to-do. Corey calls it "puttering," and when I'm in "putter mode" he knows better than to distract me too much because I'm on a mission.

It all started when I got a new bookcase. I put it togther and put it in the spot I had designated for it (next to the TV - in plain sight from my chair a.k.a. the command center) only to discover that the damn thing was crooked. I know it wasn't my fault - it's just a cheap bookcase whose parts were not measured properly. If I was in a real house that I actually owned and wanted to actually decorate, I would have just tossed it and gotten a better one - but since it doesn't really matter at this point what my apartment looks like, I figured I'd make the best of it and just switch it out with my other (nicer) bookcase so I wouldn't have to see it all the time and be annoyed by its crookedness.

In order to fill my bookcases the way I wanted them, I had to go through and toss some stuff. I'm not amazed at how much crap I've accumulated, but I marveled at the stuff I've kept for so long.

This got me to thinking about how you let go of certain things at certain stages of your life. Things and pieces of paper I couldn't let go of two years ago when I moved in were suddenly utterly disposable to me.

For example, I've had so much teaching stuff for so long that I just didn't throw away for some reason - like maybe I'd need it if I decided to teach again or if I might want to tutor. But now that stuff just seems like a burden. I know I never want to teach again, so it was easy to let go of this time. I also came across about half a dozen packets from the graduate school at UNCG that I had held onto. It just seemed silly to keep them now. That doesn't mean that I've given up on grad school, but it does mean that practicality has taken over - because most of the info in those packets has changed by now.

But then, I had all kinds of stuff from high school - a copy of a poem my first boyfriend had written for the high school literary magazine, worksheets I thought contained useful information, etc. I had lesson plans and writing cues I had sketched out for a creative writing class I thought about teaching a couple years ago. I still can't throw any of those away. And it's impossible for me to willfully throw away any blank paper - there are just too many possiblities and too much promise for a blank piece of paper.

I reckon some things are impossible to toss.

Although the dancin' dude is distracting, this is a great version of "Excuse Me While I Break My Own Heart" by Whiskeytown.

Where Blogs Cross Over

2008-03-20T11:31:00.003-04:00

I wanted to post this here because I forgot how much I think I like this segment of my unnamed novel that I haven't even really developed yet. I think I'll really like this character though.

I wrote this a year or so ago, and I recently had another idea about it, so I took out this section to look at it and get my bearings again. Again, I forgot how much I think I like it.

So please leave some feedback - even if it's negative. I won't be (too) mad at you if you don't like it. And whatever you may suggest, I'll probably agree with it. Just let me know what you think.

The old place still looked the same, if not a little neglected. Owen had bought it five years ago to celebrate his debut album going platinum - and to celebrate expendable income. All of his friends and “people” thought he was nuts to keep it. He was hardly ever here. But this was one of those times when he needed it more than he could ever explain to his “people.”

The very concept of “people” seemed so distant up here in the wild Smokies. Owen was thankful for it. His people had become more like a mob begging to be warmed in his celebrity’s light. One thing no one could understand - barely even himself - was that he absolutely could not forget his roots. As much as he tried to play the part of brilliant balladeer and badass rocker, he still felt backwoods among all the glittery hoopla of being the focus of the public’s eye.

He dropped his bags where he stood in the middle of the small living room. It was obvious that the cleaning service he had hired to give the place a good spit and shine before his arrival had come and gone - and had actually done an amazing job. Everything was as he left it over a year ago when he came with Shayla. He had been afraid the sight of the hearth rug would bring back the pain of beautiful memories that could only be memories from now on. But it was as if she’d never existed. He’d written his way out of the funk, screamed his pain in a digital riot, toured with it, and grown tired of it. Well. At least he’d gotten his third album out of it. A good one, if he did say so himself.

Owen inhaled the old familiar scent of aged lumber and collapsed on the large corduroy couch. He smiled to himself in the promise of a good solid two months of enjoying the cabin he secretly regarded as his home. He loved the place. Wood, real fabric, stone, a porch. His apartment in Nashville was nice, and he enjoyed it. But it just didn’t feel right for some reason. It seemed to be fabricated instead of built. Not sterile or false, but…sugar-coated. Those country roots showing again. But the critics (the friendly ones anyway) always said that was part of what made his music so good. Well, it used to anyway.

Writer’s block. A dam holding up the river of his genius. Blah Blah. That was why he was here, wasn’t it? To remember the bard within. Wasn’t that the bullshit line he’d fed his management? Seemed to work because it was partly true. The other part wasn’t quite as clear even to Owen. But again, he was here to figure all that out. In the meantime, didn’t he leave an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels in the kitchen last year?

Owen peeled himself off the couch and ambled into the small, but fully-equipped kitchen. Shit. Owen mused. I might actually be able to cook a real meal while I’m here. Another residual effect of a mountain upbringing: the desire for a good home-cooked meal. How long had it been? Owen decided not to even consider that, and instead started making a mental list of the things he’d get at the grocery store in town. First things first, though.

He took his bottle of Jack out onto the back porch. He smiled at the very sight of his beloved hot tub. Just big enough for two, built-in fridge, built-in stereo. Hallelujah for the science of luxury. He set his whiskey down on the porch floor and struggled for a few minutes to remove the hot tub’s cover. He smiled. The cleaning service had not forgotten his request to get the hot tub ready. God bless ‘em. Fame and money sometimes had their perks. Owen started to head back into the house to fetch his CD wallet, but decided he needed to reacquaint himself with the music of the woods. So he turned the jets on, stripped down to nothing, grabbed his whiskey, and hopped into the steaming, bubbling water. “Oh fuck yeah,” he moaned.

He settled into one of the molded fiberglass lounges, lay his head back and looked up at the sky. He had forgotten how a sky full of stars fringed by trees could make him feel all that he was. Perspective became a study and the world reminded him that he was on it. Owen sighed as he opened his ears to the sound of crickets, cicadas, and the occasional night bird. The breeze dragged its delicate honeysuckle fingers over his scruffy face and through his wild black curls. He practically shuddered with the tenable glory of the sensation. Oh God, why can’t I stay here longer? It never seemed to be long enough. He always got used to something just in time for it to change. Stop it. Just be, y’ moron.

Owen spent nearly an hour watching the brilliant, big sliver of moon shrink, climb the sky, and change color from orange to yellow to milky white. He was just beginning to doze off when he swore he heard the faintest hint of a guitar playing over the ridge. Something bittersweet and beautiful. He decided that the half bottle of whiskey he had killed was sending him back on tour. Fearful of drowning with the memory of the tour rushing through his veins, he dragged himself out of the hot tub bound for his bed.

Spring's A-Comin'

2008-03-13T14:34:00.004-04:00

And I'm thrilled. I really hate hot weather, but I hate a lull even more. And everything has been in a lull lately.

But all that seems to be changing, thank goodness. The season is shrugging off its overcoat and coming out to play. And it's about damn time. Suddenly everything seems to be waking up, including me.

My brian has been sparking with ideas for my books and stories ever since I started working on my little inspiration project, Corey and I are getting geared up for a lot of hiking and our little vacation in April. I've only got one more quarter left of classes after this one (THANK GOD), and suddenly I'm energized. I'm itching to do some spring cleaning, I feel the need to get rid of some stuff, and I want to discover new things and ideas and moments.

It's a-comin' y'all. Hope you're ready for it. :^)

By the way, new post on my live journal if you're so inclined.

Yay Spring!

Why are we surrounded by crazy people?

2008-03-05T08:51:00.004-05:00

Crazy.
Toys in the attic,
I am crazy.
Truly gone fishing.
They must have taken my marbles away.
Crazy.
Toys in the attic, he is crazy.

I'll just be brief here and explain none of the circumstances because thinking and worrying about it any further might put me over the edge too.

Corey and I and a couple of my friends and I have often discussed the fact that we are indeed surrounded by crazy people. It's like we have a big damn "kick me with the crazy" sign on our backs. Many (a majority) of the people we know and are even friends with are completely out of their minds and in a constant state of emotional train wreckage.

What the hell? How did this happen, and why is everybody suddenly afflicted with the mental illness du jour? I don't know about y'all, but I'm sick and tired of all the crazy. On a broader scale, I'm sick and tired of half the population claiming to be either "bi-polar" or "emotionally unstable." I totally understand that some folks are truly ill and in need of help, but most others are just being pussies.

Why the hell can't folks just learn how to get over themselves and deal with it?

By the way, new post on my Livejournal blog.

Here's The Trial scene in The Wall (from whence the above lyrics came). If the weird animation is going to offend you, don't watch it.

Do what?

2008-02-28T08:34:00.004-05:00

I'm hearing right and wrong so clearly
there must be more than this
it's only in uncertaintythat we're naked and alive

Anyone who has spent any amount of time with me knows that I'm practically deaf. At least, I'm sure it seems that way. During any given conversation, my friends generally hear me say the words, "I'm sorry?", "Do what?", "What was that?", "What, What?!" or some variation at least three times. At the very least. Corey kind of likes it because he says he usually has a chance to change his wording. :^p Cheeky man.

When I was about 19, I had my tonsils cut out. The ENT who did the tonsillectomy ran a number of tests on me including a hearing test. He discovered that I'm way below average at certain pitches (mostly high pitches, and a few of the really low pitches), and he even ran a few additional tests for some sort of hearing disorder that tends to strike 19-year-old women, but that came out negative. I barely even noticed the problem until I was about 26 or 27, and since then it's just gotten worse.

Anytime I tell my mom about some event in which I had to ask someone to repeat him or herself, she understands. She has the same problem. Both of us have an especially hard time in noisy surroundings. Sounds combine and become distorted and we either don't hear what's being said or we hear things that aren't there. This happens to me CONSTANTLY. Most often, it happens when I'm in the bathroom and either the water's running or the heater or air conditioner is running. I can't tell you how many times I've gotten out of the shower to see if I'd left a radio on because I often think I hear music. I embarassed myself in front of a lot of the men in our noisy shop at work a couple weeks ago. I was standing in one of the dock doors about halfway outside, and I swore I heard my office manager call somebody on the intercom. When I asked the men what she said, they looked at me like I was nuts and then laughed their asses off at me.

I don't know that it's bad enough yet to go back to the ENT with the problem. I guess I'm partially afraid he'll have me in a hearing aid before you can say "feedback." All I know is that it is highly obnoxious. I feel horrible when I have to ask folks on the phone at work to repeat themselves, and I feel really horrible when Corey says something I don't hear and he says "nevermind" when I ask him to repeat himself. I'm afraid I look horribly rude when I get tired of asking folks to repeat and end up filling in the blanks or only half-listening. It gets exhausting sometimes.

Luckily, I don't seem to have much of a problem with the medical transcription. I suppose it helps that the sound is right there in my ear and the earphones obstruct a little bit of ambiant noise. I have noticed a marked difference between my right and left ears thought. My right is much worse, and I think my mom's right ear is worse too. We laugh together when one of us sees the other turn her head to put the "good ear" in better range of the person who's speaking. Clearly this is a hereditary thing.

The strangest thing of all, though, is that sometimes - after a yawn usually - I seem to have super hearing. Either that or regular hearing sounds super to me. This used to lead me to believe all my problems would be solved with a bit of a professional ear cleaning, but anytime I've had that done, it fixed the problem long enough for me to leave the doctor's office.

I also used to think that the size of my ears contributed (I have really small ears). But I've since taken a class in which I was subjected to the obnoxious instructor's questioning about what she called my "hearing loss." I suppose she thought I was a kindred soul since she had hearing problems as well. In any case, she raised the point about a disorder in which two of the middle ear bones become fused or stuck and therefore don't efficiently carry the sound to your ear drum - which leads to (you guessed it) distortion in middle ranges.

Anyway, now that I've rambled, I come to the point. The next time you're annoyed by someone asking you to repeat something or by their habit of turning their head when you speak to them, just remember that they're every bit as annoyed (if not moreso) as you are.

I couldn't find a video of "That Voice Again" by Peter Gabriel (from whence my opening quote came), but I love this song and this video - "Red Rain." Gotta give the man serious props.

Literature of the Vapid

2008-02-08T09:55:00.000-05:00

If dreams are like movies
then memories are films about ghosts

At the risk of sounding too "wah wah, poor me *sniff* *sniff*", I typed this up last night. I just want to note that I don't consider myself to be all that liberal or "damn the man". If you know me personally, you know I don't tolerate slack-asses and I have no respect for those who just sit on their asses, smoke weed, complain about the world/society, and do nothing (whatsoever) about it.

I’m taking a document processing class online as many of you know. In this class, we have to do a lot of timed writings (which I absolutely hate, by the way) and a lot of typing out of “office” documents. While I was plugging away in the usual fashion tonight, I noticed a disturbing trend. Of course I’ve noticed it before, but it had never gotten to me as much as it did tonight.

It’s absolutely horrible to type words like “effective” and “procedure” and “analyzing” and “productive” and “benefit” over and over again. You just want to yell at the copy, “TRY SOME DIFFERENT FRIGGIN’ WORDS, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!”

I got to thinking about business English and newspaper English and “teacher” English and the dreadful entity that is Word Grammar Check. I realized that these vapid, irritatingly PC uses of English are becoming the norm. Why? Because the beauty of the written word has been replaced by the easiest way to write and understand the written word. Long, heart-felt, beautifully penned letters have been replaced by staccato e-mails. Thought-provoking stories have been replaced by flash fiction. What happened, English speakers?

Granted, I do it too – I send those choppy e-mails and have made attempts (poor ones) at flash fiction. It all comes down to time. Nobody has the time to spend on eloquent turns of phrase. Even those of us who really WANT to spend the time aren’t able to because we have become obsolete. We’re forced to work at jobs we hate and to move with the folks in the fast lane – because it’s the only way to survive these days. We know we could do so much more with this time spent keeping up, but we never seem to get it, so we end up just like everyone else. Is this the reason for a recent lack of true classics?

How many would-be novelists, painters, musicians, playwrights, dancers and actors are too busy keeping their heads above water to work on their true calling? How many creative children aren’t allowed to create in favor of classes that only help them pass standardized tests (and don’t truly teach them anything)?

I don’t have a solution to offer on this subject. All I know is that I don’t mind staying up until 2 a.m. and being a little late for work for the sake of my art. And I know that it disturbs me that I’m forced to do that.

This is not to say that I don’t believe in hard work or that I’m lazy. I do believe in hard work – very much so. And I’m only lazy when I feel the strain of all this “keeping up.” I just feel like a lot of folks would be better off (and the world would be better off) if our society had a little more respect for those of us of the right-brained persuasion.

"Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" Probably the best Counting Crows song post-August and Everything After

"Yeah...uh....how's the family?"

2008-02-01T09:26:00.000-05:00

i've never been one for too much conversation
but now i choose my words so carefully

"Hey Jennifer"
"Oh, Hey Maya! How're you?"

And that's where my conversation skills end.

The above (beginning of a) conversation took place at the Wal-Mart last weekend. I ran into an old friend from high school who I actually see fairly often when I'm out and about. It seems like I would know how to talk to her since I've known her pretty much my entire life. But when I started updating her on things, I realized that I had absolutely no idea of what I was saying. Still, I did pretty well when she updated me. I told her I was proud of a new project she was starting and I offered to volunteer when her non-profit takes off. But then I didn't know what to add - so I kind of repeated myself. And I said goodbye feeling like I had shown up at a black tie party wearing flannel and hiking boots.

I have NEVER been very good at talking to people. I HATE crowded parties and I HATE trying to come up with pleasantries when I unexpectedly run into a person. It's not that I don't enjoy seeing these folks or people-watching at the party. It's just that you're always expected to make small talk at these things. I have no idea of how to do it - or rather, I have no natural gift for it. If I try, I usually end up making a complete fool of myself and I reflect back on the attempt and feel every bit as embarassed and mortified as I did at the time when it happened.

On the other hand, I'm very good just one on one, talking "non" small talk, and people are always coming to me for advice on their problems - probably because I listen more than I talk. And of course, I have no problem with my friends. That, and for some reason, there are some strangers I can just talk to. I have no idea of what the difference is. Maybe my intuition is telling me, "Hey, here's your chance to prove that you're not a social leper." I'm brilliant with these people.

It's just the other 99.9% of the population I need to work on.

I've been making attempts to improve my social skills the past few years since I realized exactly how snooty I must appear if I don't talk to people. In the past, I didn't need to talk to people because my mother usually took the burdon of small talk. But now that I'm an adult and (for all intents and purposes) a key representative of my family, I have to step up.

In addition to the family need to learn how to make small talk, there's a horribly unfair pressure for Southern female office workers to gossip and know everything that's going on with coworkers, their kids, and their families. I really really try, but they can sense that I'm not really interested in their mother's horrible case of gout. Yes, I'm sorry that your mother is suffering, but I don't know how to have a whole conversation about it. And yes, it's wonderful that your kid is doing well in Math, but I don't have any kids to trade stories about. Same thing goes for husbands and in-laws. And all this makes me look anti-social, snooty, selfish, or just plain mean.

But that's never the case. I love people. I love to people-watch. I'm a novelist, and I get ideas from people - characters even. I'm constantly amazed (but never shocked) by the things that people can come up with and the things they do. I'm fascinated by any new personality type or idiosyncracy that I haven't encountered before. I love it when people surprise me. I can even forgive and understand people I don't like, and I appreciate the experience in dealing with difficult people.

I just don't quite know how to show it.

So this is one of my "self-improvement" topics for the coming year. I'll practice a little, and maybe learn how don't to be so nervous-talky when I see people.

So if you see me out and about somewhere, and you leave the conversation thinking, "Is she okay?" - just remember: I'm learning.

And you can learn about Cory Branan doing "Miss Ferguson"

Food and Pharmaceuticals

2008-01-22T10:26:00.000-05:00

Now the drugs don't work
They just make you worse
But I know I'll see your face again

So I started taking Wellbutrin today to help me quit smoking. I've taken it before, but it's been a long time. I took in college when I tried to quit back then. But all my friends smoked then, I had three papers due a week, and I really just didn't want to quit. Now that my life is evened out a little, it should be easier to stay quit.

Anyway, I don't remember it making me feel so...odd. I do remember that it made me very...flat, I guess is the word. I tended to stay in one very mild attitude all day. That actually seems to be happening again. I don't really like it, but it's not like this is a long-term thing. But still, I do feel a little wonky.

Last time, it also seemed to really help me focus and to maintain an extremely high level of concentration. I'm kind of waiting on that to kick in. Not seeing it yet. Same thing with the suppression of my appetite.

I'm supposed to start smoking two fewer cigarettes a day. To do that, I took two out of a new pack and I'm limiting myself to that pack for my entire day today. I don't really feel any great longing for a cigarette, but I do want to get up and go to the back for a cigarette. I don't know how I'm going to cure myself of that. I might just start telling my office manager I'm going outside and just walk around for a little bit. I don't know.

On a completely unrelated and random note, I felt the need to share my odd creation.

I'm an experimental cook. I rarely follow a recipe to the letter and I like to come up with my own ideas for dishes. Last night I had some leftover vegetable broth, spinach, some chicken that had been in my freezer a while, and less than half a bag of egg noodles, so I made a sort of chicken noodle soup.

Here's what I did:

I marinaded the chicken in my usual soy sauce/red wine vinegar/poultry seasoning/dill marinade and grilled it on the Foreman grill.

I browned some onion and wilted the spinach in a very tiny bit of olive oil, then added what was left of the vegetable broth, the rest of the marinade, the cooked chicken and the cooked noodles. I made sure to boil the soup to make sure all the chicken juices from marinade were heated enough.

It was actually very good. I was afraid the soy from the marinade was a little too much, but Corey said it was a perfect amount. Anyway, I love coming up with something good from leftovers.

Wish me luck on the quitting smoking, y'all. I'll need it.

And now...The Verve

Projecty Princess

2008-01-14T13:46:00.000-05:00

What's he building in there?

What the hell is he building

In there?

He has subscriptions to those

Magazines... He never

Waves when he goes by

He's hiding something from

The rest of us... He's all

To himself...

Probably the weirdest lyrics I've ever posted from one of the weirdest of Tom Waits' songs (and that's pretty damn weird). Gotta love him.

Now that I'm mostly over my extraordinarily obnoxious illness (whatever it was), I've got some newfound energy (except for when I've just taken some Robotussin to get rid of what's left of the congestion) and a fire has been lit under my ass to do some stuff.

How and when I'm going to do them is another question entirely. Classes have started back and I'm busy pretty much every night of the week except Friday. No rest for the weary, you know. I've got Medical Document Processing until 10:30 and on the nights I don't have that class, I have to go to the CVT library to work on assignments for my online class.

But I still feel the need to make oatmeal chocolate chip cookies at some point this week. Now that I've broken in my new printer by putting together notebooks for my class, I'm itching to do some fun desktop publishing. With all this focus on learning medical roots, prefixes, and suffixes, my mind's turning literary too. I want to work on my novels, I want to cook and try out new recipes.

I know I complain about this a great deal and I'm sorry, so I'll stop now.

But another note of interest:

After my physical Friday, I got my prescription for my stop-smoking drugs. I've tried it before (Wellbutrin) and had a great deal of success with it (I was quit for 3 months), but I was still in college and I wasn't at all looking forward to quitting. Now I am.

So starting next week, I will be taking the pills and smoking two fewer cigarettes per day. And doing a lot of munching on carrot sticks and playing with mint or teatree-soaked toothpicks. I must apologize beforehand for the likely vitriol-splattered blogs I will probably post while in the process of quitting. It's not me talking, it's the withdrawal. Just remember that.

One more thing:

My new hair color. It's not a whole lot different, but it's darker and it's redder (if you can tell at all in this pic). I look dreadful because this was taken before bed last night. Let's hope my overall appearance will improve as well as my health when I quit smoking.

Love your Tom Waits

The Ubiquitous New Year Blog

2007-12-28T10:10:00.000-05:00

Heard the eternal footman
Bought himself a bike to race
And Greg he writes letters
And burns his CDs
They say you were something in those formative years
Hold onto nothing
As fast as you can
Well still pretty good year

The slightly depressing overtones of "Pretty Good Year" by Tori Amos is not representative of my pretty good year, but I love that song.

I don't do resolutions. I don't like the word for some reason. It's too formal and imposing. That and most resolutions people make are a tad shallow - to the point that they make them just to make them.

So I won't call them resolutions. I'll call them plans to attempt to do better. And I have several in mind for the coming year. I'm hoping (PLEASE LORD) that this will be a turn-around year for me. I'll finish my MT certification in Spring, so hopefully I'll be able to get out of this horrible Accounts Payable rut. I've already started eating better (thanks to my health-conscious Corey), and I plan to quit smoking after my physical in a couple weeks. Anyway, here they are.

* Quit Smoking - As I mentioned above, I'm going to ask my Doctor about the best options for quitting smoking. As soon as I have a good option and the prescription and/or the money to get the necessary accoutrements, I'll quit. And (I think I mentioned this before) for added incentive, if I'm quit for over 3 months, Corey's going to shave his beard off so I can finally see his whole face if only for a couple days.

* REALLY start cooking more and paying more attention to what I eat - I'm doing a lot better than I did a year or so ago, but it could still be better. I need to cook more and make sure I have leftovers for lunch, and start snacking on the right stuff and stop going to the Taco Bell after class.

*Exercise more - yes, Corey and I go hiking when we can and yes, I move around a lot and I park way back at the grocery store, but I need to do more. I'm not overweight or even really chunky at all, but I need to get into better shape - I have Yoga and Pilates DVDs just waiting on me at home. I'm hoping that I'll be able to get into a better routine and start doing at least a few minutes every day. Quitting smoking will help tremendously, because right now, working out on my mini trampoline just about kills me after like two minutes.

*Work on my Friggin' Writing more - I love to write. I love to think about writing. I love to talk about writing. I love to improve my writing. But I'm just not making the time. I get home from work or school and I'm completely drained and end up watching a movie or playing a PC game. I don't know why. I guess I just hate the idea of only spending an hour or two on it. I perfer marathon writing sessions and I feel like that's the only way I can really make progress. I just need to buck up and quit being so damn lazy.

*Be more frugal - I budget everything, but something in me gets inspired by the presence of a little extra cash in my account and I feel the need to spend it on something fun (i.e. a game, DVD, or CD). Because of this, I don't have internet at home, I haven't bought new clothes in WAY too long, and all of my shoes are getting ragged.

*Be less self-centered - I admit it. I am rather self-centered. That's not to say that I'm selfish. I just have a hard time thinking outside of myself. This needs to improve. I'm a lot better than I used to be, but I still have (a lot of) room for improvement. I'm not sure how to accomplish this, because I've been this way for nearly 30 years. I'm a little comforted by the fact that it seems to be inherited and by the fact that I realize it. But still. I need to do better.

*Finish those projects I really want to do - I have a table-top CD rack whose parts are stained on one side, and nowhere near being built. I have a slew of recipes ready to be typed up and put into a more convienient recipe book. I have an Organizational Manuscript that I have only begun working on. All of these things need to be finished. I just haven't had the time/motivation to get off my butt long enough to get going.

*Clean my effing apartment - and keep it clean. It's a MESS. A horrible mess. I haven't vacuumed in months, there's stuff strewn all over the place, Corey keeps tripping over shoes I've left out in the middle of the floor, there's a pile of books waiting to be put into a box, there's absolutely no empty spots to place things on my end table, and my bathroom is a wreck. I don't know how I manage to get everything so messy so quick. Sure, it may be a sign of genius, but it's also a sign of laziness.

So there's my list of improvements to make in the new year. I suspect this is the year where I finally act like the adult I learned how to be this year.

By the way - new blog on my livejournal (the one dedicated to my writing) if you're so inclined.
http://javery1066.livejournal.com/

Good Stuff

2007-12-07T10:43:00.000-05:00

But I won't sell no flowers no that ain't my gig
And I won't sell no cow, fish, fowl or pig
But I'll sell a bucket of peaches to Prine
'Cept he's got his own tree so he ain't shakin' mine

Corey and I were talking last night, and we realized that we sure do a lot of complaining considering how lucky we are. Yes, I hate my job and his is becoming more stressful. Yes, we are surrounded by crazy people with entirely too many made-up issues. Yes, we are poor. Yes, we're both busy. Yes, neither of us is where we want to be nor doing what we want to do.

But we really are so lucky. We have an amazing time together. We love each other and there's nothing complicated about our relationship at all. We have wonderful friends who we have a blast with (when they're in town), we're both healthy and vibrant and young.

So what's with all the bitching?

I've decided to dedicate this blog (on all my blogs) to Good Stuff only.

It's list time, people.

Things I like that are good:

- Being a mad scientist of the culinary persuasion. Experimenting with recipes is fun.

- Peggle, Chocolatier, The Sims, Civ 4 - I'm sorry, but PC games are fun and addictive and they make me happy.

- Coming up with new "project" ideas - whether it be the recipe book I want to put together, the quote book I want to play with, the table top CD shelf I want to build, or The Organizational Manuscript for one of my novels. It's all fun and it's all productive.

- When I'm actually able to stay up all night writing.

- Sitting in a coffee shop with a Wi-Fi connection, doing research, and sipping coffee; periodically looking up and seeing Corey being equally creative.

- Steak and Shake Friday nights

- Corey's zen face.

- When Krishna is in town and/or visiting her in Tallahassee.

- KITFO NIGHT with Misha!

- Canoe trips with NERA.

- Hiking trips with Corey.

- Amazon.com (leaving out buyer's remorse)

- "My Name is Jorge" by The Gourds

- Rediscovering the brilliance of an album I haven't listened to in a while.

- Playing with PrintShop and Publisher.

- Watching Arrested Development

- NETFLIX!!!

- Realizing that my Mom REALLY does value my opinion.

I could keep going forever here - and now I feel better.

Hope y'all do too.

Now - in all their glorious Silliness - The Gourds doing "My Name is Jorge"

burp Excuse Me.

2007-11-26T08:43:00.000-05:00

Turkey for me
Turkey for you
Let's eat the turkey
In my big brown shoe

I don't think I've ever eaten so much in my life. Not necessarily in one sitting, but more this weekend than probably any other. Why? Boyfriend's Family duty. Ah yes, that glorious moment in a relationship when you meet the boyfriend's folks.

Corey had met my folks a couple of times, and one of my brothers and the corresponding sister-in-law. This time he met my other brother and sister-in-law, and my grandmother. And as usual, he was all but ignored at my family meal save a couple times when my eldest brother asked a few "tell-me-about-yourself" questions, which Corey answered politely and concisely. And I'm sure Grandmother was too busy trying to figure out if his hair was as long or longer than mine or my mother's had ever been and formulating the sweetest possible way to ask "why are you dating a long-haired boy?" It really doesn't matter what the rest of the family thinks, because my mother adores him and her word is generally the law. Score a big 50 points for Corey. So (to bring this rambling paragraph to a point) Corey is already in solid with my set. So it was just a matter of how I could do with his set - or vice versa. And that matter was resolved Sunday.

Apparantly, I am the only girlfriend that he has ever brought home. His dad and grandmother had met several of his female friends, but never a girl he was actually dating. When he informed me of that Saturday night, I was both honored and consumed with apprehension. His family situation is a bit odd. Corey is the person both his dad and his grandmother depend on for...well...pretty much everything. And that can become really stressful for him. Especially when they start to act out for one reason or another. They're good people, don't get me wrong, but they've been dealt several lousy hands and they tend to take it out on the wrong people sometimes.

So I haven't nagged Corey about not meeting them for so long. It's understandable that he's cautious about bringing new people into the family mix. So I can only perceive this as a good sign.

I think he was more nervous about it than I was when we pulled into his grandmother's driveway. And it appeared that they were more nervous about it than either me or Corey - which is really out of line with my other experiences. His grandmother greeted me warmly and held on to my hand all the way into the kitchen. It was really kind of sweet. His dad was just a jumble of nerves and did the nervous gabbering thing that Corey had warned me about (and that Corey does himself sometimes). Almost immediately, we sat down to eat at a table that was loaded down with food. It was really good. Most of the conversation, however was between the family members and his dad's lady friend (a very sweet little lady who sadly had to go to a funeral right after dinner - so I didn't get to talk to her as much as I would have liked). I suppose they were just trying not to make any missteps.

After supper, Corey's dad drove his lady friend to the funeral, leaving Corey and I alone with his grandmother (YIPES!). But I love her. She's a very sweet little lady, who I actually have a lot in common with. We talked about dishes and ceramics and Carnival Glass, and I think that really impressed her. Corey says she can sometimes be a little mean, and I can see that she could, but she was well-behaved Sunday, and I just love her to pieces. She's a lot like my grandmother in some ways, and I was glad we had some talking points. I think she liked me. At least I REALLY hope she does.

When his dad returned (without his lady friend), we were all sitting in the little TV room. He grabbed a piece of sour cream pie (which was really yummy) and joined in. He was still a little gabbery, but I like his dad a lot. I see a lot of him in Corey. They're both kind of shy. The difference there is that Corey doesn't speak out of shyness and his dad can't stop talking out of shyness. Sounds weird I know, but I think that's what it is. Corey's rather more well-centered than his dad too.

We knew a lot of the same people, and come to find out, our families are well acquainted with a LOT of the same people. That's a small town and two old families for you. Corey's dad knew my Granddaddy too, and that's usually a big point in my favor when they discover who he was. I think his dad liked me pretty well too. Again, I REALLY hope he does.

I'm just glad I survived unscathed. And I'm glad to know more about Corey's family. It really helps shed some light on his character.

I think I've rambled long enough.

To Resist Coffee Addiction

2007-11-19T09:05:00.000-05:00

I have never owned a coffee maker in my entire life.

I always drink tea and Cokes (that means Diet Dr. Pepper) for my caffine fix. But Corey is a coffee fiend. The man MUST have his coffee in the morning or he just can't get going. So the fact that I don't have a coffee maker has been a slight problem. He was going to the nearby Hardee's every Saturday and Sunday morning (while I'm still trying to wake up) to grab us both some coffee and a biscuit. This has become a bit of a pain to him and the biscuits (I always get country ham) were putting me in fear for my figure.

So Friday night when we both needed to go to Wal-Mart (or as Corey theorizes, the only true reality - he's on the cat food aisle right now and I'm in skin care), he had apparantly had enough and bought a coffee maker for me (himself).

While I don't generally drink coffee, I do appreciate a cup now and again. My instructor this quarter snuck a Mr. Coffee into the computer lab, which has been irresistable and handy for those 5-hour classes.

So I was already primed to start down the dark path of coffee addiction.

When Corey made his coffee Saturday morning, the smell of it brewing roused me. What a nice smell. It was also nice to have a fresh decanter waiting for me when I woke up. It was even more nice to wake up and greet a caffinated and therefore more personable Corey.

All of this was so nice in fact (my resolve was already wavering mind you), that while I was starting to feel depleted before I was ready to conclude my movie marathon last night, I went ahead and made some for myself. Bad Jennifer.

This could lead to a slippery slope, so I'm determined to resist the daily nightcap. To firm my resolve, I only had tea this morning.

While I'm sure Corey would be triumphant if he turned me into a habitual coffee drinker, I will prevail. I'm certain the novelty will wear off pretty quickly (for me).

In the meantime, I bet that coffee maker will come in pretty handy when I make my two pumpkin pecan pies for Thanksgiving - oh, and all the goodies my family has come to expect from me around Christmas...and when I feel like writing late into the night...

Dude, somebody stop me now.

From Hoodwinked:

The Cliffs of Insanity!!!

2007-11-12T10:16:00.000-05:00

This storm it came up strong

It shook the trees

And blew away our fear

I couldn't even hear

You know how when you've had horrible experiences in the past, all new experiences of the same sort (either good or bad) have a sort of shakey presence in your mind? That's where I am at the moment.

Everything is going so remarkably well with Corey that I'm beginning to fear the worst. The bottom has always fallen out on my relationships in the past, so I guess I'm just fearful that it will here too. I know it's not right to always be in fear of things going wrong, and I do fight very strongly against it.

I don't fear at all when Corey's around. It's just the whole, "Is he okay? Did he get to work all right? Is he lying face down on the asphalt somewhere?" thing. Just abject, unreasonable worry. I'll get past it soon enough, though. I generally get over this sort of thing pretty quickly.

Other than the whole Jennifer losing her mind thing, things really are amazing with Corey.

Last weekend, during the paddle trip, I was teasing him viciously. When he flashed the "mean ole girlfriend" face and threatened to call DFACS for a foster girlfriend (again), I let slip an apologetic, "I love you." He just grinned and said that he loved me too. This was a first, and I was happy with that because he honestly doesn't have to say it. I know.

But then that Sunday when he was about to head home to get ready for the mean ole' week, I got the very first, out and out, direct, "I love you" from him. Although I already knew that he loves me and he knew that I love him, it certainly was nice to hear it.

Ever since then, I get the declaration once a day - and that's more than enough.

I hate saying it too often, because almost every time I've said it previously, it was overused. Then (inevitably) the relationship ended up falling flat, and I ended up eating my words. The "I love you" declaration is too often and easily used as a band-aid for a doomed relationship. I refuse to allow that with Corey.

Anyway, here's to many more lazy Sunday viewings of the Princess Bride and more of JW's wine. Love really is a splendid thing.

Corey looking delightfully rugged on the river.

REM doing "Half a World Away" - one of my favorite REM songs.

Photo Blog Preview

2007-10-25T09:56:00.000-04:00

Yeah, I'm a big blogging blockhead (alliteration is fun) and I have sadly neglected my poor little blog. But I've finally got some pics edited and ready to post once I'm able to get my laptop and myself somewhere with a WiFi connection. In the meantime, I do have a couple pics here. One was taken by Krishna, and the other is just...well...entertaining.

Here it is - one of maybe five or six total pictures I have of Corey. Yeah, Krishna got us with our mouths full. Thanks. :^p

I saw this pic of Ryan Adams doing his Rob Halford impression on a message board. He's so silly - but you've got to give him props for not taking himself too seriously.

Will be doing a proper blog very soon. And I mean it this time.

Dude...

2007-10-10T09:07:00.000-04:00

I haven't posted in nearly a month! I've just been that busy and that preoccupied with various aspects of my crazy life.

I will eventually mention something about the Tallahassee trip and various other things. And I will eventually post some of my newer pictures (including pictures of the elusive Corey). But for the time being, it's just a few little snippets.

This past weekend Ihad supper with one of my ex-boyfriends. One of the less recent ones and the one I dated for the longest time. I did tell Corey about it and he had no problems with it because he's just that amazingly wonderful.

The ex I saw will henceforth be known as Sparky. I dated Sparky the last few years of and the first half year after college. He was a nice guy. Really happy-go-lucky, a bit of a hippy, and a major Phish Head. And he's still a nice, happy-go-lucky, hippyish kinda guy. And I enjoyed hanging out with him.

But, I can say with more than great confidence that it's a good thing we're not together anymore. He's pretty much exactly the same guy he was six or seven years ago. Me, not so much. Things that I used to love about him got on my nerves, and I think he wasn't used to me having a backbone. So I ended up wishing I was with Corey.

Don't get me wrong, it was great to see him. And I'd forgotten how easy/fun it is to hang out with the guy, but thats all. It was as if we'd never been more than friends. And that brought closure. And I don't overanalyze my relationship with Corey anymore because all I need to know is that I'm glad I'm dating him.

And that's that.

I'll post a proper blog soon - I hope.

Friggin' Reality

2007-09-17T10:34:00.000-04:00

Nothin' ever seems to turn out right
I don't wanna grow up.
How do you move in a world of fog
That's always changing things
Makes me wish that I could be a dog
When I see the price that you pay
I don't wanna grow up
I don't ever wanna be that way
I don't wanna grow up.

Despite the occasional urge to pitch a hissy fit complete with kicking and screaming and the holding of breath, I really don't mind growing up. It's actually quite nice. But new developments of a certain nature have gotten me looking to cause an unnecessary scene.

So both folks who peruse my blog probably know all about the situation with my grandmother. If not, just a quick overview of the whole messy thing:
Grandmother is 93 and she has a very advanced case of osteoporosis. She recently fractured her shoulder, making it clear to everyone (even Grandmother reluctantly) that she can't be alone at all anymore. The past few weeks, Mom and Dad and me and my Uncle have been trading out staying with her for certain periods at night (we have a lady who stays with her during the day too). Mom and my Uncle have been spending the night.

Well, now a decision has been reached. Grandmother will stay for a month at a time at my parents' house and my aunt and uncle's. Neither one of them can handle her being there all the time. Grandmother may be brittle, but she's still fiesty and EXTRAORDINARILY stubborn. And the prospect of putting her in a home is just too much for her and for everybody else. That and it's horribly expensive.

So of course, they're selling the house. And I am thinking about buying it. I just don't want it to go to somebody who won't take care of it. I also am of the mind that Grandmother might be a little bit easier knowing that one of her grandkids is there taking care of it. And I'm tired of throwing money down a rent hole every month. But Mom handed me a heavy dose of reality last night.

I knew the house was a fixer-upper. There's not even a shower in there - just an old cast iron tub (which is SO staying if I can help it). But then you get into the nitty gritty. The wiring most definitely needs to be repaired if not entirely replaced, there may be a major mess under the siding (which has been there since the 50s), and I'll eventually need to do something about the plumbing. I could deal with the ancient old gas heater for a while, but it'd probably be a good idea to get central heat and air in there at some point. And before I can do anything, we have to get it apraised and inspected before I can even go talk to the bank. How the hell does one accomplish/pay for that?!

On the other hand, I know how much I can afford to pay for the house and repairs. And I'd be buying from family. My boss has a lot of good connections and I can ask advice from him in many cases (and he's very cool about that sort of thing). I'd have my own place I could paint/decorate any way I want and a garden to plant tomatoes and flowers in. I could have a cat. And it'd still be in the family.

I just wish I didn't have to do all this waiting around and dealing with the uncertainty.

Oh, and advice is more than welcome!

Tom Waits doesn't want to grow up either. Be prepared for much Tom wierdness.

Randomness

2007-09-11T09:23:00.000-04:00

My back was turned I did not see
that shadow climbing up on me.
I took my turn at fixing hearts
but that goes bad before it starts.

I know it was over a week ago, but just for s&g's, here are some pictures I took from the Jason Isbell show. Not the best, but we were on the balcony and there was a lot of cigarette smoke between us and the band.

It was an awesome show. Isbell will have no problem holding his own whether he's gone solo or goes back to the Drive By Truckers. The new album is eloquent and gorgeous and I would not hesitate to see him play live again. He played everything I wanted to hear, and he was great with the crowd (in his own way). He's uber laid-back, but at the end of the show, he shook every hand that streatched out to his. He was genuine and kind and it thrilled me to see it...

...even if he does look freakishly like my high school boyfriend, Luke.

On another note:

I've decided that, instead of continuing to torture myself over the fact that I can't seem to get past this certain section of my book, I'm going to read more. I need to read more anyway, but I've been looking at certain things that might light a fire under my ass or inspire me in some way or in the very least supply me with more allusions and literary tricks and treats. Of course I'll still be writing when the mood strikes, but taking notes and reading what other people write often gets my mind bending toward a better way to execute my frustrating little passion of telling tales.

Any suggestions would be more than welcome by the way.

Still Another Note:

My 93-year-old grandmother fell and fractured her shoulder. Even in a healthy 93-year-old, this is a big deal, but my grandmother has osteoporosis really really badly, so she's doing well to sit in her chair without crumbling. I sat with her a couple nights last week. She's really annoyed that she can't do anything. It's really a horrible thing to have as sharp a mind as ever, but to be unable to do much anything with it because the body's in such bad shape. I love her endlessly, but she can be pretty difficult in this state. My mother said it, and I belived it, but I didn't feel it until these couple days I sat with her: Grandmother is the most stubborn person who ever lived. She could give a mule lessons in stubborn. It's absolutely unreal. She will NOT be moved, no matter how small or insignificant the case may be. Throw 93 and brittle into the bargain and you've got yourself a handful. The thing that amazes me is that I don't even get it half as bad as my mom. Bless her heart - in a truly and deeply sincere way - bless her heart.

Just remind me to take my calcium.

Corey

I've had days when he almost started to get on my nerves, which is a big fear with me. I'm terrified that I lose interest in every decent man I come in contact with. But then he stopped getting on my nerves and I ended up liking him even more. This cycle has run through about twice. So I'm feeling pretty good about this whole Corey/Jennifer thing right now. Y'all keep your fingers crossed for this one. He's worth routing for.

Yeah, he's dreamy.

So here's some more Jason Isbell - I'm just terribly impressed.

The Miracle of Life and A Short-Lived Weekend

2007-08-20T08:29:00.000-04:00

Girl, better figure out which is which
Wherefore art thou Romeo you son of a bitch
You'd just as soon fight as switch now wouldn't you
He's come to make love on your satin sheets
Wake up on your living room floor
He's the last of the hard-core troubadours

The lyrics to "Hard-Core Troubadour" have absolutely nothing to do with my blog other than the fact that I bought a Steve Earle album and will be forced to purchase ALL OF THEM as soon as finacially possible. He is just...THE MAN!

So my blogging senses have been slightly dulled lately because...well...ain't much going on. I could do a brief diatribe on one of the many evils of the world that bite my ass particualarly hard, but I complain enough as it is, so I won't insult anyone's intelligence with it.

I did see "The Miracle of Life" in my Medical Terminology class. You know, the old-school NOVA special that has been grossing out Sex Ed and Lamaze classes for over two decades? Yeah, that one. It was interesting to say the least. I had no idea doctors pulled the poor kids out so forcefully. I don't have any kids, so all of this was new to me except for the science and just the familiarity of having those mysterious lady parts.

I was annoyed at my instructor though (which is not exactly a rare circumstance) because she actually fast-forwarded through the first part. And for those who haven't seen it, it isn't what you think. The first part is actually kind of an overview on the theories of how life began on earth. Of course, I understand that these theories and the theory of evolution are very controversial topics, but to completely disregard them, to the point that you won't show anything on the subject to your students is unconcionable for a teacher. Everyone has to make up their own mind, and that is really difficult to do until you have as much information as possible for both sides of the argument. But I really don't want to get into a debate, so I'll leave it at that. It just ticked me off.

Having already gotten over the outrage of missing the first ten minutes of "The Miracle of Life", I headed for Rome after work Friday to meet Corey. It had been a while since we'd hung out in Rome together, just the two of us, so I volunteered to drive the 20 miles since he works there. We had supper at Harvest Moon, which just seems to get fancier and fancier. But it was really good. I LOVED the seared tuna appetizer we had even if it was just a sushi serving.

They've opened at little bakery-type place right next door and connected to Harvest Moon, so Corey and I decided to check it out after supper - especially when we saw that they have home-made gelato. We ended up with a small gelato each, and I went ahead and treated us both to some super-rich and fancy pasteries for Saturday morning. We strolled along Broad Street while we finished our gelatos, and then headed for the Barnes and Noble. Corey got to witness the epitome of indecisive Jennifer as I tried to decide between buying both or only one of the albums I wanted. I bought both because I'm a bad monkey. But Steve Earle and Josh Ritter were worth it.

I also met another of Corey's friends this weekend. This friend and his wife live near Chattanooga and were in town for the weekend, so we met them at his parents' house. A house that I LOVE. It's built kind of into a hill, so it's mostly underground with a lawn acting as a roof. They also have a beautifully situated pool and pool house. In any case, I really enjoyed hanging out and chatting with these folks. I will not be averse to seeing them again. Corey had been a little nervous about his friend's wife, as he had a theory that she just doesn't like other women. But she seemed to like me and even hugged me when we left. Maybe I'm just that cool.

Sunday, we really didn't do much anything, and toward the afternoon, poor Corey got a little bit listless. He felt the need to hike or do something, but he really didn't want to as it has just been too hot. I did everything I could to make him feel better, and I think he did after a while, but the day passed in a useless sort of fashion until he headed on back home to get a jump on the week. I went to the grocery store and that was that.

Corey still has some hermit tendencies, but that doesn't stop him from coming to see me every day of the week for at least a few minutes. I guess he's still getting used to being half of a couple. Frankly, I'm still getting used to it too. It's not like other relationships I've been in, which is actually a good thing. But it has taken some getting used to. Still, I think it's worth it because he's precious and better suited to me than anyone I've ever dated before. I know he cares about me very much, but I think that kind of scares him. So many people he's cared for have either passed away too soon or continue to suffer from any number of physical and mental hardships. And he really feels it. He's a worrier by nature, so he wears himself out thinking about and trying to come up with something he can do or something he can say to make it all better. I've been kind of trying to get him to accept the fact that he can't please everybody all the time (including me), and he's been getting better. Still, I sometimes wonder if he thinks he's cursed in some way.

Anyway, enough of that. How was y'all's weekend?

And by all means, love the brilliance that is Steve Earle. I know he ain't pretty, but who cares?

My New Wings

2007-08-06T15:17:00.000-04:00

I'll take the red clay robe
with the red clay wings,
And a red clay halo for my head.

I had hoped that this blog would contain many pictures of me and Corey having a blast on the river, but alas, it was not to be.

As none of you will remember, NERA had its paddle trip down the Oostanaula on Saturday: the official one. I was really really looking forward to doing this with Corey, but he had been sick all week and he was still sick on Saturday.

I had been sick too, but I was over it by Friday. Saturday morning, we got up early and Corey kept saying, "Yeah, *cough, cough* I can make it baby *sneeze, sneeze*, I wouldn't *sniff sniff* miss it!" It took a lot of convincing and cajoling to get him to believe that I would not drown or be taken hostage by river pirates or eaten by river dingos if he wasn't there. It also took a lot of convincing to make him realize that he would have been miserable if he had come with me. But he finally caved. He settled instead on helping me gather all my crap and driving me to the put-in.

I ended up hitching a ride with Bumper again, who was more than happy to let me crash. I missed Corey the whole time because I know we would have been laughing and having a blast the whole way. And I mourn for the loss of several little songs he probably would have come up with along the way. Because that's how cool my man is.

Because there was no Corey there, I honestly don't have much to tell that would be different from the last trip down the river. Except that Joe, our parent organization's executive director, is hilarious. I had never seen him around his kids, but he must be one of the funnest Dads ever. He and his kids (well, at least one of them was his) kept ramming the other canoes (not hard enough to turn them over) and shooting water cannons at us. It was just silly fun.

They proceeded to sing the Meatball song among others as they paddled, which sent me WAY back. Since then, I haven't been able to stop singing, "On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese, I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed." Again I sighed and pouted because Corey wasn't there to join in.

We did have a very slight incident which I didn't see because Bumper, his little boy, and I ended up lagging way behind at one point. A couple of older ladies came on the trip and they hadn't paddled for a very long time. Apparently, they tried to pass over a shoal on the wrong side and ended up stuck between a rock and a big log. They flipped, and one lady apparently got a foot stuck for a minute. Luckily the rapids over the shoal were very tiny and the water rather shallow. They both emerged unscathed and only a little shaken.

When we took out, Corey came and got me, feeling a whole lot better. He said he'd had one of those naps that just completely works wonders. He was feeling well enough to take me to the Steak and Shake in Dalton for much-needed steak burgers and cheddar fries. He had lost some of his steam by the time we got back, but he was still feeling well enough to take care of my major sunburn.

Which brings me to my new wings. I applied SPF 50 (yes, 50) very liberally all over my shoulders and arms and neck when I took my shirt off and put my life jacket over my bikini top. I kept applying. I must have sunscreened my shoulders at least four times during the trip. Was this necessary? OH YES!! For those of you who don't know me personally, you must understand that I have VERY Irish skin. I mean I'm fish-belly white most of the time. So maybe that explains why, despite my four applications of SPF 50, my shoulders still got a little bit burnt.

But the worst was my back. Not my whole back mind you - just the part of my back under my shoulder blades and actually including the tip of my shoulder blade. How, you ask, did this happen? Well, apparently, the sun snuck in through the armholes of the life jacket and did its cooking quietly. Now I look like I have two little red wings. And they hurt like hell. It's the worst I've been burnt in years. I'm super careful about getting too much sun, but it just didn't occur to me that the sun was hitting me in that area. So now leaning back and lying on my back when I go to bed both hurt mightily. But I'm keeping up with the aloe and hopefully my little wings will fade soon.

Anyway, hope y'all had a lovely weekend, and didn't end up being made crispy by the sun.

Here's some Gillian Welch. This song is so me when I was a little girl.

When a Mess Can No Longer Be Justified as a Sign of Genius

2007-07-30T13:19:00.000-04:00

Blow up your TV
throw away the paper
Go to the country,
build you a home.

I really couldn't take it anymore. My apartment was a remarkable mess. For a while I was fine with my mess. I knew where everything was, so it was fine.

Then one day I looked around and wondered where in the hell I was going to put my new DVDs and CDs. I saw the VHS tapes I had stacked in liquor boxes and the ones that wouldn't fit sitting in precarious stacks on the floor. On the kitchen table sat piles and piles of burned CDs that hold live shows and various mixes, etc. that acted as a great compliment to the piles and piles of junk mail. And then there was the blue chair. I used to love that blue chair. But after I moved out of the den of evil (a.k.a. where I lived with my horrible ex in Rome) and realized exactly how much his poorly trained dog peed on the thing, I haven't loved it quite so much. And after all, Misha had been kind enough to give me her big gigantic, wonderful chair.

At about the same time I started looking around at the mess, my mom offered to let me have her desk since she really didn't want it anymore and it was only taking up space. Well, that gave me the extra boost I needed.

So I took half a day off Thursday, and have been working on it for the better part of the past several days. Corey was sweet enough to help move the desk in Saturday. I also got a new bookcase type thing to hold all my VHS so my existing shelving unit could be the exclusive home of my DVDs. The cleaning quickly spiraled into rearranging. I got rid of the blue chair, built the new unit, set up the desk and repositioned the big chair. Dude, I even dusted the blades of the ceiling fan and knocked down cobwebs.

Here is the result.

I swear, it feels like total feng sui to me. I imagine the effect would be greatly amplified if I had thought to take "before" shots, but I probably would have been too embarassed to share them.

The desk was just such a nice fringe benefit of all this too. I love my desk. Now I no longer have to go all the way to my bedroom and crawl into the little hole my printer was in. Now it's all easily accessable.

Note the ghetto fabulous desk chair. It's one of my kitchen chairs with the cushions from the big chair (which were just taking up space because I never used them) in a body pillow case. Also note the especially ghetto fabulous hairband-tying method used to keep the pillows in place.

I'm so jazzed about all this that I'm going to start working on the rest of the apartment this week too. I'm going to try to get it all done during the week, because poor darling Corey had to put up with hyper, obsessed, cleaning-mode Jennifer all this past weekend, and nobody deserves to be subjected to that two weekends in a row. The garbage people are just going to love me by the time I'm through.

This isn't even half the crap I tossed.

Note the severly crappy blue chair. Alas. It was good to me while it lasted.

Anyway, once the whole place is spic and span, I will be a very happy little camper. I really think that having a neat place is really helpful to your state of mind. More than that, I think the act of cleaning is really cathartic too.

Breathe in that dust-free air. Aaahhh yes.

Now enjoy John Prine doing "Spanish Pipedream" - trust me, you'll recognize it.

When Working to Live becomes Working to Work to Live

2007-07-23T15:56:00.000-04:00

Yeah, that made my head hurt too.

I'm free now to direct a movie
sing a song, or write a book about yours truly
how I'm so interesting, I'm so great
I'm really just a f#!kup and it's such a waste
to burn down these walls around me
flexing like a heartbeat
we don't like to speak
don't talk to me for about a week.

I don't know why this is on my mind so ominously lately. Maybe it's the realization that I really am about to turn 30 and I really need to figure my shit out right quick. Or maybe it's just against my nature to be chained behind a desk. But then, that's just a cop-out. I wonder if ANYONE was meant to be chained behind a desk. And that makes me appear too "special" because I most certainly am about as normal as anyone - almost.

In any case, the point is, that there are not enough hours in a day. There are a thousand things I could be doing right now that could improve my mind, body, and/or spirit, but I can't because I'm trapped in the system of which everyone is a part. Money. You need money to eat, live, and in most cases, you need money to make money. So you have to work.

And while I'm sitting behind my desk doing nothing because all my work is done yet I have to stick around and wait for the phone to ring the two more times it might today, I can see our future (and our present) just as clear as day:

All our little spinning hamster wheels force the other little hamsters run in their wheels faster and vice versa and the cycle continues until half the little hamsters die of massive embolisms or heart attacks because they've been too busy worrying about the other little hamsters that make them look bad to realize that they were sick.

It's really quite depressing. We're too busy to raise our children right, too busy to enjoy ourselves, and too busy to take care of ourselves. I don't think this is what God intended.

I want to finish my book. I want to listen to my music. I want to learn how to crochet. I want to read more. I want to write more. I want to play around with my massive collection of craft paint. I want to travel. Yeah, I know I'm whining, but everybody has a list like this. It just doesn't seem right.

Tonight, for instance, I have to do laundry (which I probably won't do), write an article for NERA, do my Medical Terminology homework, study for a test, and read more Harry Potter. And folks wonder why I always stay up past one AM most nights.

So I do my best. I'm taking my MT classes to ease the stress of destitution a little, and I do what I can on the weekend. So I suppose we'll find a way. Reckon?

Well, I couldn't find the song I quoted ("I'm Free Now") but here's "Buena" by Morphine. Same album at least.

Paddling the Oostanaula

2007-07-13T15:34:00.000-04:00

As that river rolls along
I'll be steppin out tonight
On the cool flow,
Floatin down
Down below
The bridge to the waters edge

From the ridge to the ledge

From the hills to the sea

I'll become a memory

I think I may have a new addiction.

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I took Monday off work in order to participate in a preliminary paddle trip down the Oostanaula River. We started at the 225 bridge and went through Resaca and all the way back down to the 136 bridge. It took us about 6 hours, but the day went by SOOOO quickly.

I went with a fellow member of the NERA board (David "Bumper"), and the executive director of CRBI (Joe) who kind of helps NERA out from time to time. The purpose for this preliminary run was to make sure the river didn't have any obstructions along the route, to see how deep (or shallow) the water is, and to get together a map of the route that pinpoints points of interest and problem areas. But really, it was just an excuse for us to get out on the river.

Bumper and I took a canoe and Joe took a kayak. Bumper, being the gentleman he is, did most of the paddling, but I did enough to get my arms properly sore. I absolutely loved it.

The water was pretty shallow, but we didn't have to get out and carry the canoe at any point which is a good thing since I'm a wuss and it would have sucked. At the start point, we put in right before the confluence of the the Coosawattee and the Connasauga rivers. These two rivers come together to form the Oostanaula.

The Conasauga to the left and the Coosawattee to the right.

We paddled a good ways, and I just felt like the Lady of Shallot, man: only much less formally and more sloppily dressed - and much less mournful and dead.

We kept on a paddling and having a good old time. I had no idea our river was so pretty. Granted, it's nothing spectacular, but it's ours and you see the county a lot differently from the river than you do the road. And it's so relaxing and just...nice. You know, a really beautiful step out of the ordinary.

The next feature we came across was an old fish wier. For those who don't know, a fish wier is basically a trap that helped the Indians catch more fish quicker. The one we saw may have been put there by early settlers, but it's more than likely a Cherokee structure. They're really simple but brilliant in design. They're usually like a very small dam that doesn't extend above the surface of the water, made of logs and rocks. Most of the time they're built in a sort of "V" shape that kind of chanels the fish to a mid-point. But the one on the Oostanaula was actually diagonal across the entire width of the river. I assume this made it easier for them to fish from the banks or a shallower side of the river.

Joe's Kayak on the Fish Wier

After the wier, we came across a couple of bridges and even a few rapids! Well, I doubt anyone would really call them rapids, but it was fun going through some of those little shoals. There were a couple of areas that were pretty slow and without a whole lot of places of interest, but I enjoyed those areas as much as any. It was really peaceful and it was nice to just paddle and smile and contemplate for a while.

As we came closer to the 41 bridge and the interstate, we came across one of the coolest areas of the river. It's also the deepest, and features a really nice, big rock formation. The water there is about 20 or 30 feet, which is really deep for the Oostanaula. With this combination of factors in Joe's brain, he decided he'd venture a jump from the rocks. Bumper and I were a little concerned about a bit of a shelf area that Joe could have hit if he hadn't jumped out far enough, but he missed it by a long shot and was all smiles after he surfaced. He suggested that we try it. I said, "Not no, but hell no." I think Bumper would have tried it if he hadn't had me in the canoe. Again, being the gentleman he is, I think he would have considered it abandoning his ship and putting his passenger in peril.

Joe jumping off the rocks into the deep water.

Peeking from inside a bit of a little cave.

From this point forward, I had begun to get a little tired and the wind was blowing directly into our faces, so I devloped a little bit of a headache. But that really didn't diminish my good time. For a couple of miles, we kept coming across features in the river we thought might just be natural shoals, but there were too many of them and they were too similar. They were basically piles of rocks coming from either bank, leaving a bit of a chanel in the middle. At first we thought they might be fish wiers that had been partially washed away, because they had the basic beginning of that tell-tale "V" shape. But after Joe thought about it and saw how many there were (at least four to my recollection), he concluded that they might be navigational structures used to keep the cotton barges from getting too close to the shallow banks. Made sense to me, so that's what they'll be in my head until it's proven otherwise.

After the series of navigational doohickies, we again came into some slow water, but at the time, it was pretty much what I needed. The sun had come out and I was getting rather warm. I also used this time to perfect my paddling technique until Bumper basically told me to give it up. Oh well. I'm sure I'll have it down by the time I go with Corey in August.

Toward the end of the 14-15 mile stretch, we came across the old landfill. There's still so much crap in the water, it's not even funny. I hope we'll be able to do a large-scale clean-up over there at some point, because it's ridiculous how much old shit there is messing up our waterway. Sigh. In any case, right after the landfill, we came to the old pump at the water treatment plant where Calhoun used to pump all its water. Now, as I'm told, they get our water from the Coosawattee, which did not experience the massive amount of carpet dye pollution in the 80s that the Oostanaula did. Back then, the water would turn colors and you could cut down a tree and see several multi-colored rings in the cross section. Why are people so stupid?

The last bit of the journey passed by the new river park, which has been sadly overlooked and half-assed by the city government. We're working on that too.

After several native mussel shells, a sunburn on my knees and the top of my hand (don't ask me how), and a pair of sore arms, we arrived at the Hwy 136 bridge, where we got out. It was funny, because my mom works right across the river from the boat ramp and she called saying she saw me. It was cute. My mom is awesome (most of the time).

I'm really looking forward to the official trip in August. It'll be SO MUCH FUN with Corey, and I'm pretty sure we'll both be asking for canoes this Christmas.

Here's some Old Crow Medicine Show doing "James River Blues" - they rule.

My Freedom from Tyranny - at Least for a Week

2007-06-25T10:24:00.000-04:00

Tom do this Tom do that
Tom, don't do that
count the cash, clean the oven
dump the trash
oh your lovin
is a rare and a copasetic gift
and I'm a moonlight watchmanic
it's hard to be romantic
(sweeping up over by the
cigarette machine
sweeping up over by the cigarette machine...)

Who can not love Tom Waits just for those lyrics alone?

In any case, as stated above, I am free from the tyrannical gaze of my control freak of an office manager. Last week she reached new heights of obnoxiousness and control freakage. Can you believe that she actually tried to get a poor innocent accounts payable girl (who was just trying to do her job and pay the invoice we'd sent) to wait over a week for a W-9 form?! For those who aren't familiar with what that is, all it is a form that customers get from vendors that has the vendor's tax ID number on it. All my office manager had to do was type in our tax ID number and fax it. But she tried to make the girl wait. I can't even begin to figure out why it was such a big deal to her. Shoot, she could have just had me do it. Whatever.

Anyway, I'm so pleased with the peace in the office today that the day has been going rather quickly. It's just so nice not to have a hyperactive, pursed -lipped, utterly annoying lady breathing down my neck for no apparant reason. I just hope she won't be unbearable enough to make up for it next week.

The only bad thing about this week is that I'm made jealous by the fact that half of the people who work here are on vacation and I only get five measley days the whole year. *sigh* Alas. Oh well, I'm getting one very soon for a preliminary float down the Oostanaula River in preparation for a canoe trip NERA has planned for August. I'm very much looking forward to it, especially if they let me bring Corey along (aka The Gentleman - I've been dating him too long to continue with the code names). I've never been down the river and it'll be really nice to actually know what the guys are talking about when they mention certain areas.

Also, the 4th is coming up and Corey is keen to find us some kick-ass fireworks. I can't even remember the last time I got to see fireworks with a good man. I don' know what it is about fireworks that's so...well...romantic I guess. Maybe it's one time when both people are like children and letting all the "surface cool" slide off. Hm. Anyway, all I know is that I'm really looking forward to it and I don't care where we see them as long as he's there.

Speaking of Corey, he was out of town for a couple of days on business, which continues to blow his mind, because he (like myself) hasn't had any experience with the ellusive business trip until now. In any case, it was an odd couple of days. You'd have thought he'd gone off to war or something. I really missed him and he seemed to really miss me. It was different for me because I'm usually ecstatic to have a couple days to myself to get stuff done. I got stuff done in this case, but I missed him a whole hell of a lot while I was doing my thing. I assume this is a good sign.

Until the 4th though, I'm still installed in receptionist/accounts payable hell, but at least I'll have this week to prove to my boss that I work so much better when the office manager isn't here. Maybe then he'll help me out and tell her to lay off.

Here's some more Tom Waits (get over it, he rules) - "Eyeball Kid" in honor of a conversation that took place yesterday afternoon.

Quandaries

2007-06-11T09:10:00.000-04:00

Cause everything is free now, that's what I say
No one's gotta listen to the words in my head
Someone hit the big score, I figured it out
And I'm gonna do it anyway, even if it doesn't pay

Do you ever get to that point where you just can't get to where you think you're headed soon enough? Well, that's where I am.

Work is driving me batshit right now, which is just absurd considering how easy this job is. But now all of a sudden they want me to be Queen Mother to all the service men who don't particularly want to be mothered. So I tell them where to go, but they go someplace else anyway or they whine and complain about it until I wear them down. So like high school students. I just can't wait to be done with my MT certification so I can just sit and type all day without being bothered or forced to answer the phone or corral unruly, arrogant AC/HVAC Service Techs.

I'm also good and ready to get going on my book again. I've had a hard time staying focused the last six or so months, and I just don't know where to go from where I left off. But it's time to start figuring all that out. I've got a novel to finish, damn it!!

And while I've got a break from classes, I'm going to catch up with some reading and work on my vocabulary some. One thing that comes from dating a man like The Gentleman is the occasional need for a dictionary when he speaks. I keep up with him really well most of the time, but he's used a few words that I KNOW I should be more familiar with. That and it'll keep my writing and my brain from stagnating.

So there's all that swimming around in my head - the desire to be surrounded by scholars and to be a scholar again as opposed to being surrounded by rednecks and being every other girl in Gordon County. *sigh* Sometimes I wish I could have managed the whole teaching thing, but then I'd probably be even more miserable than I am now in my work. Not that I'm all that miserable. I just feel....lazy I guess.

On top of this, there's a little bit of a hitch concerning The Gentleman. No, no, everything is still great between us (better than great even), but it's not great between him and a friend of his. I understand what the friend is worried about because it's happened to me. My best friend started dating someone and all of a sudden I didn't hear from him for weeks at a time. Then he married the girl and now I speak to him maybe once every three to four months.

The Gentleman's friend is afraid that he'll forget about their friendship and spend all his time with me. Which I wouldn't allow anyway. A man's friends are part of him, so you have to get used to it. If you're lucky, they'll love you and you'll love them. I'm just about certain that I'll get along famously with the friend considering all The Gentleman has told me. We just have to keep the friend from having another episode of vitriol against my poor sweet Gentleman who is being a thousand times more conscientious about this than my best friend ever was.

But apparently this may be resolved soon. I think the friend may be chilling out a little and I think at some point this week or this weekend, I'll actually be able to hang out with them. We'll see.

Other than that, The Gentleman front is just...well...friggin' fabulous. I'm barely able to express just how fabulous. But maybe that's another blog for another day.

Here's some Gillian Welch - Just because she's wonderful and I love this song: Caleb Meyer

"A 68 is Passing in Alabama..."

2007-05-31T08:28:00.000-04:00

Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your mouth,
Blowing down the backroads headin' south.
Idiot wind, blowing every time you move your teeth,
You're an idiot, babe.
It's a wonder that you still know how to breathe.

I tried my best to keep from laughing when I heard a young lady from my Anatomy class speak those words; "Hell yeah, a 68 is passing in Alabama." But in the process of trying not to laugh, the slight depression set in. The depression of a former teacher who is surrounded by people who probably would have been responsible for her five gray hairs had these folks been in her class.

It really annoys me how so many people place little to no value on education or intelligence. The perfect example of this is my Anatomy class. I make really good grades in that class because...well...it's really friggin' easy. It's not like a pre-med anatomy class. It's more "Anatomy Lite." It's all common sense and a little Latin. In any case, I continue to get flashbacks to high school because I often get comments like "What'd you make, a hundred and three?" and then I am ignored. You might as well put a stamp on my forehead that says "pariah."

It's not that this hurts my feelings anymore because it doesn't. I learned my lesson about being needlessly embarassed by my grades in high school. My frustration has absolutely nothing to do with me. I just really worry about the state of the world when a 68 is considered a good grade.

Over the years, the manner in which we do things has become less and less "thought-friendly." Instead of reading books most folks just watch a movie or TV. Education promotes test scores as opposed to actual knowledge and students aren't taught how to think or apply what they've memorized. Often, conversation is limited to gossip or what we saw on that show or that. Instead of getting outside, a lot of folks just stay in with the Playstation or whatever the big game machine is now.

Now, this is not to say that these things don't have their place. Yes, I miss my cable sometimes and yes sometimes my conversation is limited to music or movies. I watch movies all the time and I admit that I am slightly addicted to Civilization III and The SIMS. Everyone should enjoy these types of simple pleasures. My concern is the total lack of any desire to do anything that might make a person actually THINK. A lot of folks will do anything in their power to avoid answering a tough question or solving a difficult problem or reflecting on an issue.

I'm probably just babbling, but this really bothers me. What is this country's problem with being educated or smart? All the way up until about 1930 or 1940, everyone was still taught Latin. Latin is a major key to so many other things: law, composition, medicine, physics, foreign (romance) languages, etc. Now you're doing well to find a high school (or college) that even offers it as a course. Meanwhile, overseas, it's not uncommon (AT ALL) to find someone who can speak at least three languages fluently. A lot of Americans still struggle with English.

I recently saw Idiocracy. It's a dreadful movie, but it makes an interesting point. Most of the movie is set in the future. It's a future in which humanity has actually deevolved. Instead of getting stronger and smarter, human beings had gotten considerably less intelligent - almost a regression back to cavemen. The cause for this (as explained in the movie) was an oversaturation of advertisments (i.e. corporations control EVERYTHING - I mean EVERYTHING); too much reproduction from the *ahem* shallower end of the gene pool; and too little reproduction from the deeper end. It's a silly idea, but one that anyone (especially anyone surrounded by Jerry Springer episodes) can easily see the basis of. It's scary to think of it, but I could almost see this being a possible reality.

I hope I'm not coming off as elitist or snooty. I just wish the populous would develop a natural curiosity for more than pop singers and reality shows.

Being maybe slightly hypocritical in my choice of video today. Just seemed appropriate. :^)

Holiday Lag

2007-05-29T09:09:00.000-04:00

Front door's shut
Back door too
Blind's pulled down
What you gonna do

It's just like jet lag (I assume) in that you have no idea of what time it is - only in the case of holiday lag, you're missing an entire day. Kinda messes with you a bit. But it's completely worth it as I'm sure 99.9% of the world would agree.

Twas a very full weekend, and as usual did not last as long as I really would have liked. But it was enough to throw me off a bit. And it probably will be throwing me off all week. All four days of it. :^)

Friday night, I dragged The Gentleman to Cartersville to see some musician friends of mine play. It was really wonderful, especially since I haven't seen most of those folks in a really long time. The amazing Gary Greene was there of course; as well as my friend Montie who now lives in Pennsylvania; and another old-school Coffee Shop buddy, Andrew. The whole show would have been a lot better had I been able to hear them playing better. They had no PA and there were a lot of people and a lot of kids about making noise and talking too loud. *sigh* Oh well. But I did get to hear Gary play his own and a couple John Prine tunes, and Montie played her really spectacular cover of "Romeo and Juliet." Even though she does the Indigo Girls version as opposed to the original Dire Straits version. Montie is the only person who can sing it that way without me begging to hear Mark Knofler instead. It was really beautiful and I'd forgotten what a remarkable singer she is.

The Gentleman I think made a pretty good impression (although Montie now agrees that we need to work on his handshake). Andrew and he have a love and knowledge of plays and theater in common, so they were able to talk on terms of great equality. Montie and he didn't really speak much, but Montie did insist on giving him a hug (I assume as opposed to the afore-mentioned handshake). The Gentleman was particularly fond of Gary (anyone who doesn't at least respect the man obviously has no soul), and I'm sure would love to see him more.

All in all, it was a really good night. I was a little concerned at Andrew's behavior. I don't know if he was just tired or what, but he seemed very stand-offish, and looked as if he wanted to do anything but talk to me. I don't know. Anyway, The Gentleman and I are planning on going to see Andrew's theater company's newest production at the Sunday matinee, so maybe that will make up for whatever it is that has offended him.

Saturday, I spent the afternoon visiting with my folks. My brother and sister-in-law came up for the afternoon since my folks were keeping my niece (the other brother's offspring) for the weekend. We just visited and went to see my grandmother and had supper. But it was good to see them, even if Mom and Daddy are still being grumps. At least they were a great deal less grumpy since Lydia was around.

Sunday, I saw dear sweet Adam and his dear sweet little boy while The Gentleman went on a brief hiking trip with some friends. It was really good to hang out with Adam. We had lunch and stayed talking at the restaurant for a good two or three hours before his son got a little restless. So I went with them to a nearby playground so Adam's little boy could blow of some steam. He's a good kid, and I'm so proud of Adam for being such a good dad. He really has raised a great kid. We didn't see each other for so long, but Adam and I have always been really good friends, and we're good at taking each other's crap. Sometimes I really wish he lived closer by. Oh well.

Yesterday was wonderful. Because we did absolutely nothing useful. The Gentleman and I just hung around my apartment watching movies (he liked my movies) and getting a good buzz on before two p.m. We have such a good time together. We don't even have to do anything. It's wonderful.

Anyway, now that the weekend's over, it's nice to think that this is a short week. Plus, tonight is my last night of Document Processing. Because I've finished all my assignments, the instructor is going to let me go ahead and take the last test - and then I'll be done. And I'll only have two more Anatomy class periods to go. I'm so ready for this quarter to be over. *swoon*

And now, because I love this friggin' song, here's the Dire Straits version of "Romeo and Juliet":

When you live next door to a Jerry Springer episode

2007-05-23T08:44:00.000-04:00

Well I was drunk
the day my mama got out of prison
and I went to pick her up in the rain
but by the time I got to the station
in my pick-up truck
She'd got runned over by a damned ole' train.

It was a peaceful night. Very peaceful. I had just finished my homework and set the alarms on my cell phone. I was all set to get to bed at a decent hour (one a.m. for me) because I was exhausted.

While I was completing my final task of the night (marinading a chicken breast for this evening's supper) I suddenly grew aware of the great row that was occuring next door. The young lady who lives in the apartment next to mine is recently divorced. It's the same ole' story: married/had a kid with babydaddy way too young, got divorced, babydaddy went nuts.

There was screaming, yelling, name-calling and ransacking all going on next door to me and I didn't have a clue what to do. I wasn't really afraid of the ex-husband (who apparantly thought my neighbor had stolen the tag off of his car), becasue he's obviously an idiot, a coward, and so insecure in his manhood that he feels the need to lord over his young and excruciatingly naive ex-wife. But I do know that a crazy man+a stupid girl+a sleeping baby in the same apartment (often) = bad news (and an episode of Cops).

In any case, when the yelling got worse and I saw the guy storming in and out of the apartment, I went to my bedroom and got out my night stick - just in case. I know these things can tend to spill over, and if dude had made a swing at the girl, I would have gone after him. Given my brief experience with an abusive significant other, I'm a bit more protective of people in that situation than I once was. One of the last things I heard before he left was a threat, and then he threw something at her. When he was gone I immediately gave her my work cell to call the fuzz, which she did.

Long story short, I had to wait up with her - well, I felt like I should. Even though her description of the damage he had done in her apartment was exaggerated, I still felt bad for the girl. But I didn't get to bed until nearly three a.m., and this is after a late night the night before, eight hours of work and five hours of class. So I'm downright "somebody-prop-me-up" exhausted today. And I have a test in class this evening.

Yeah, I'm thinking I might need to move.

Anyway, it's not my favorite band, but I dig this song and it almost fits.

In Deep Smit

2007-05-21T09:29:00.000-04:00

You try to tell yourself
the things you try tell yourself
to make yourself forget
To make yourself forget
I am not worried

Okay, so maybe I am worried. About a great many things - because that's what women do when we suffer estrogen poisoning - our girlitude goes up about twenty notches and we get neurotic - more so than usual. Sometimes it really sucks being a woman.

NERA (f%@#!) :

But before I get into it, I just have to vent a little here about something that makes me worried. And that is the whole NERA/319 Grant thing.

First of all, I have never had anything to do with any sort of grant before. So I have no idea of how the process works. I have no idea of what goes into it and I'm still trying to figure out exactly what "40% match" means. I have an inkling, but that's it. Secondly, I just got roped into this whole grant committee thing anyway. I never asked for it and when I went to the first meeting, I was mislead into thinking it was a group thing and I would not be the only NERA member there. But I took it in stride and tried my best to keep up. Now, I have absolutely no clue about what's going on because the only meetings that we've had lately have been in the morning when I can't make it because I have a job other than working on this grant thing. And the obnoxious County Controller with no personality is pretty much deciding NERA's role in this whole thing on her own.

Meanwhile, I've heard nothing from our so-called "executive director" and I haven't tried to call him because it's useless because he never answers and he never calls back. I also haven't heard anything from the rest of the NERA board despite several e-mails sharing Grant information. How the hell did I get stuck in this? I have no idea of what to do and I don't know what to tell the Grant Committee and I don't even really know what to tell NERA. I've e-mailed NERA's board proposing a meeting for next Monday, but Lord knows if they'll respond despite my fervent plea for them to do so. WTF?!

When I got into this, I just wanted to be the quiet little secretary taking notes at the meetings and making out forms and spreadsheets and whatever other little secretarial things they'd need me to do. I also thought I might be able to get down and dirty and actually do some things like river clean-ups and whatnot, but again, those are often scheduled during the day when I have to work. What the hell?

All I know is that I'm about ready to say screw it and resign, but I really believe in the cause and I just can't give up on the group yet. The last thing we need is for someone else to give up and not tell anyone.

Okay, now that my rant is over:

The Gentleman:

The Gentleman continues to improve in my eyes, and I am now indeed in deep smit. So very smitten. We had a truly remarkable weekend that included a walk at Ridge Ferry Park in Rome, lunch at Schroder's, a really good chai tea frappaccino at Rome's inflatable Starbucks, organic strawberries, champagne, chocolate, and cheese. Just...amazing. He's such a good man and we have a blast together.

But we've been dating about a month now, so in comes the estrogen poisoning. The Gentleman is a self-professed pseudo-hermit. He likes his alone time. Granted, so do I. But I still haven't been to his house (despite the fact that he lives maybe a mile down the road from me), still haven't met his kitties, I don't know what his handwriting looks like, and I didn't even know he was left-handed until this past Thursday. I know these concerns are silly, but it bugs me for some reason.

I just don't want to get emotionally attached to someone who I'm not going to be able to get inside of. By "getting inside" I mean getting to a point where I can kind of sense what he's thinking, know what he's about, understand his thought process, etc. I know it's possible because I've been able to do it a couple times before. But the older they (and I for that matter) get the harder it is for me to crack 'em. That's what happened with my last relationship. I just couldn't get inside him. I really really really don't want that to happen again. I think that The Gentleman and I have really amazing potential. I just hope that he thinks so too.

I'm pretty sure that he's in it for a while at least. He'll usually come by my house if I get out of class early - even if it's just to "kiss me goodnight." And he likes for me to call him when I get out of class anyway. And we did agree to reach a happy medium as far as the whole "pseudo-hermit" thing goes. I'm perfectly cool with it, because, like I said, I have my hermit moments too. I reckon I just hope the hermit tendencies don't develop into tendencies toward neglect. I've been left hanging way too damn many times and I just don't think I could take it again.

Anyway, here's some old school Counting Crows. Shut up, they rule! :^)

Tom Waits is Even Better When You're Dancing with a Man Who Knows the Lyrics

2007-05-14T08:44:00.000-04:00

The bats are in the belfry
the dew is on the moor
where are the arms that held me
and pledged her love before

Yep, it's all fluffy bunnies and happy flowers with The Gentleman and I. I'm still afraid of when the skeletons in his closet are going to jump out at me, though. He's such a decent man, but I'm terrified that I'm missing some gigantic red flag. Maybe I'm just shell-shocked and he really is as remarkable as I think he is.

I only got to see him Saturday, but we spent most of the day together. We went to Rome for lunch and just walked around Broad Street and the Pedestrian Bridge and along the river (looking for more turtles). It was really a lovely day. Well, except for the suspicious ribbon of some cloudy something in the river (grrrrr...).

After a while, we decided to give the new Starbucks in Rome a spin. Yes, Rome has a Starbucks now. And it went up in like...three hours. It hadn't been long at all since the last time I drove through there, but all of a sudden, there's a Starbucks. Are they inflatable or something? Anyway, the folks there were really nice (I wonder how long that will last), and my Chai Latte was pretty good. I still don't like their burnt coffee, but oddly enough, we heard two more Tom Waits songs at the Starbucks (yes, Krishna, Tom Waits at the Starbucks!!). When we got back to Calhoun, I made him supper. He really loved my chard, brown rice, chicken stuff. :^) In any case, kinda sounds dull, but as usual, it was wonderful.

Other points of note for my weekend: My mom really liked the Gift Certificate from Mother Nature's Eden that I got for her Mother's Day present. I'm glad she did, but man, she and my Daddy are making it rough for me to enjoy visiting them lately. A couple of big ole' grumps all the time!! But Mom has some reason to be a grump, I reckon. She's worn out from taking care of Grandmother and from her allergies and whatnot, and she lets stuff get to her way too much. Daddy....well, Daddy's just Daddy - a 61-year-old man who complains like an 80-year-old. *sigh* I wish they'd both just chill out a little.

I also got a new cell phone. I hadn't intended to get one. I went to Rome Friday as The Gentleman had made pre-Jennifer plans with some friends to see what he called a "noise show" in Atlanta - he said it was pretty interesting. Anyway, I just felt like shopping. I decided to stop off at the Verizon store to see if my "New Every Two" thing had come due, and the lady said it had. I looked down at my little phone with its obnoxious orange blob in the middle of the screen. The blob had been there since the phone was a month old (pressure damage isn't covered by warrenty, apparantly) and I just never got around to getting it replaced. The $50 I would have spent on the deductable always seemed to belong elsewhere. So my friends always received text messages that seemed to be written in pig Latin. In any case, I figured "why not" and went ahead and got a super spanky new-fangled phone. I got the LG Chocolate one - the one that's an MP3 player too. I reckon it was about time for me to join the 21st Century. I even got the cool red one.

Well, that was my weekend, such that it was. And today actually isn't as bad as Mondays go because The Gentleman is going to take me for supper tonight. :^) He's such a doll. *sigh* *giggle*

So Here's some more Tom Waits. One of my favorites of his in usual unusual Tom Waits video form. So sue me, we had a moment with this song.

Squishiness Abounds - "Tra la la la!!"

2007-05-07T10:06:00.000-04:00

You and me
Sittin' in the back my memory
Like a honey bee
Buzzin' 'round a glass of sweet Chablis
Radio's on
Windows rolled up
And my mind's rolled down
Headlights shining
Like silver moons
Rollin' on the ground

Monday continues to suck more and more just as John Prine describes in "Long Monday." But at least the reason for it in my case is the fact that my weekends are such a joy lately.

Of course, my weekends are a joy because The Gentleman is a joy. I mean really. I don't know if I've ever been able to be truer to myself around a man. I don't know what it is about him that makes me so comfortable, but there it is. I reckon we just kind of understand each other. We really do have a whole lot in common - beyond the usual "what you like" standards (as in music, movies, etc). We hold to a lot of the same ideals and ideas. It's just...refreshing.

And did I mention how hot he is - and how completely unaware he is of that fact? Bonus. Oh yeah, and hiker thighs. Oh yeah. Double bonus.

So needless to say, I had a wonderful weekend. The Gentleman and I went out Friday for supper, then came back to my place just to hang out. Saturday, I had to help out at the "More than a Taste of Calhoun" booth NERA had reserved at the last minute. It was actually a pretty cool little shin-dig. It was nice to see this type of downtown festival in Calhoun. Our downtown is sorely taken for granted.

In any case, my duties to NERA and The Gentleman's promise to hang out with friends kept us busy separately Saturday. Alas.

Sunday, we had an absolute blast. Nothing big. We just headed to Rome, got us some iced chai lattes and some pastries and headed for Myrtle Hill. For those of you who are not familiar with the thriving metropolis of Rome, GA, Myrtle Hill is a very large, very beautiful graveyard that's situated on a rather large hill in downtown Rome. It may seem odd to enjoy pastries and frappaccinos at a cemetery, but it's a habit of many Romans, and it really is a beautiful spot. We just walked around talking and laughing and looking at oblisks and interesting markers. Yes, that is my idea of a good time. :^)

After Myrtle Hill, we went by Ridge Ferry Park, another Roman institution. Again, we just walked around talking. We stopped at the rocks on the river, and I nearly killed a kid who poured half of his drink into the water. I told The Gentleman he might have to hold me back, and he kind of turned me away and hugged me when the kid did it again. Why are people so mean to the rivers? Don't they know that's our lifeblood for God's sake?! (Sorry. Diatribe over.) In any case, after Evil Peon and his family left, The Gentleman and I went up to the little platform where they had been and watched the water. WE SAW THREE TURTLES!!! The Gentleman knows that I am a great fan of sweet little cute turtles, so he said it'd been a "Three Turtle Day." I thought that was sweet. :^) Good times.

We had supper at the Landmark (another Roman institution) and then he took me home. He would have stayed longer if he didn't have to go make sure his grandmother took the right meds (yes, he's sweet to his grandmother too!).

Anyway, I really like him more and more. He's got a natural curiosity and reverence for the world that I really appreciate and understand. And it's just...nice to be around him. Really really really really nice. We can talk about anything and usually do. He's just so...comfy, but still extraordinarily hot. I keep trying to figure out what's wrong with him, but I haven't seen anything thus far. And it's a little spooky, because I'm just so used to the bottom falling out in one way or another. We'll see.

Now I'll just go and think squishy thoughts. :^)

Here's some more John Prine - along with Iris Dement - doing "In Spite of Ourselves." This is one of the best songs ever.

I'm Really Trying not to Giggle so Much.

2007-04-30T09:36:00.000-04:00

the green in her eyes dropped out and fell everywhere
but I don't care
I can see
that she's made of something else entirely

Yeah, I'm still giggling. Can't help it. Weak Handshake Dude is so much more than I thought he was. He is so far, anyway.

By the way, we shall no longer refer to him as Weak Handshake Dude but as...well...The Gentleman. Yeah. (Sorry Aaron, kind of taking a cue from you, but it works well.) His many other attributes more than make up for his lack of handshaking ability. Anyway, man can be taught. And he's a fox.

He improves on me every time I see him or talk to him. As you may well recall, I really wasn't sure about him at first, but as we've progressed, more and more layers of that placid veneer are falling off. Saturday during our hiking date, he really loosened up and the result was an interesting, sweet, and remarkably clever and funny man. He understands my Shakespeare references, and even finds them attractive. Same with my word histories. Quite remarkable, really.

It's funny, but The Gentleman is an illustration of the old phrase, "to let one's hair down." When his long hair (ohhhh it's niiiicccee) is down, he's playful and funny and adorable. When it's pulled back, the reserve is there. Interesting. But you know, even his reserve makes more sense to me now. He just doesn't perform to strangers, I reckon. But I'm really glad that he loosened up and opened up to me a bit.

Then there's the ever-growing attraction between us. Downright intense, man. I'm thinking it's a good thing that it's grown as opposed to having been there already. Maybe the former bodes better than the latter. We'll see.

Anyway, I'm sure it's rather clear that I really like this guy. Y'all keep your fingers crossed for me. Again, we'll see.

This one's for me. BB King, Albert King, SRV, and Paul Butterfield. No explanation should be necessary. :^)

"You're a Tom Waits Fan?!" and other Birthday Surprises.

2007-04-23T09:42:00.000-04:00

Well, the night does funny things inside a man,
these old tomcat feelings you don't understand

All right. Krishna will tell you in case you don't believe it, but I actually giggled. I giggled.

The message my darling dear Krishna recieved after my date Friday was, "HE LIKES TOM WAITS!!!" And I think I may have repeated it. In any case, needless to say, Dude surprised me - pleasantly. And no, the pleasantness was not only because of his mutual affinity for Tom Waits, but other things as well.

Weak Handshake guy still has a weak handshake, but maybe he can learn. We met for coffee Friday night at Calhoun's first true coffee house. I'm glad for this "no-pressure" first date choice. I'm a little impulsive when it comes to men, and the fact that we just "met" (there was no picking up or dropping off) for coffee helped me to remember the appropriate boundaries that I always set for myself and have rarely kept to.

He had come straight from work, and was dressed nicely, his hair still in that ponytail, and not as Fabio-esque as my fevered imagination remembered. His manners were ever polite and he brought a box of Godiva chocolates. Score! He said that he was generally a flowers kind of guy, but he didn't know what my favorite kind was. Score two. When we got inside, he paid for my coffee. Score three. So Dude was looking favorable (despite another weak handshake) as we sat down for the "get to know you" chat.

He was super interested in my book and paid rapt attention as I spoke, which is amazing since I have no idea of how to stop once I get started. I discovered that he went to college in Atlanta at first, but graduated at Berry. I discovered that he, like myself, majored in a useless subject but is not sorry for it. I also discovered that he is a member of one of the oldest families in Calhoun/Resaca. This is monumental because I have never EVER dated a man who was actually from Calhoun. So maybe the gene pool isn't dried up. He likes to hike and camp (YES!), and he knows enough about Shakespeare to have a favorite (The Tempest).

But as all of my darling friends know, the true way to Jennifer's heart is through music. And he was actually the one who asked the question that I usually ask first: "What kind of music do you listen to?" I couldn't believe that those words were coming out of his, not my mouth. From that moment on, the conversation was all about music. And Darlings, the man actually has good taste! It's incredible to me that there is someone in Calhoun who listens to music that is actually congruent to my tastes. He loves Tom Waits, Morphine, Henry Rollins, etc. GOOD STUFF!!

In any case, we sat and talked for a good two hours before the kids at the coffee shop all but threw us out, then we stepped outside and he watched me smoke a couple cigarettes as we continued to talk. When it became clear that there was nothing else to do in Calhoun, we said good-night. Yes there were a couple little smooches. It was nice. :^)

We've agreed to go hiking next weekend. SWEET! There I hope to get into the meat and potatoes of his personality. He's very quiet, very soft-spoken, and placid, so it was hard for me to read him. It's definitely going to be up to me to draw him out and figure out what makes him tick. I'm still not quite sure of what to make of him, but I know my opinion is greatly improved, because despite his seemingly very shy nature, we had a good two-sided conversation and he was very personable. I was a little concerned about his basic manliness, but that was put to rest when he said he remembered checking out my ass when I worked at Barnes and Noble. He was a little apologetic about that admission, but I wasn't offended - I'm proud of my ass and I'm glad he noticed it. :^)

So I had a good first date Friday, and I'm looking forward to more. But Saturday (my birthday) could have been a little bit better. I ran around all morning getting my Mom's birthday present wrapped (hers is tomorrow) and getting ready for the fundraiser. I stopped by my folks' house for a little while, where they gave me my birthday money (and the coolest toy ever - an indoor frisbee). Then came the fundraiser. Ugh.

I'll be brief because it's so depressing. Basically, the fundraiser was a disaster. Only 40 people showed up where they had 150 last year. I ended up being stuck behind the concession table for much of the show. I did get to see a good part of it, though, because Bumper (another member of the board) is a remarkably good man and very kindly took over my duties. He and my cousin Joseph were the only ones who seemed to care that it was my birthday. Thanks to those two wonderful boys I did have a decent time. But we're all very miffed at our executive director, because he dropped several balls in several courts and those dropped balls were a large part of why we had such a poor turn-out. So now we're having an emergency meeting tonight to figure out what we're going to do. Bleh.

Okay, so in tribute to Weak Handshake Dude, here's some Tom Waits:

Organic Greens, Saturday Afternoons at Chick Fil A, and Friday Night Coffee Dates

2007-04-17T08:49:00.000-04:00

Ana Ng and I are getting old
And we still haven’t walked in the glow of each other’s majestic presence
Listen Ana hear my words
They’re the ones you would think I would say if there was a me for you

So my dear darling friend Adam came up for a Grandparents visit this past weekend, and he took a few hours to hang out with me. I was very tickled to see him. He has been in awe of Calhoun's super classy Chick Fil-A, which wasn't installed until after he had abandoned us for Macon and all its flatness, so we had a late lunch at Calhoun's social hub. We really didn't do much beyond a nice, long, conversation: unless you count the part of the conversation that took place while we drove around town to allow Adam to see what's become of our little hamlet here. Notwithstanding Adam's great joy in freaking me out when he drives (fishtails everywhere), we had us a good old time, and I was sorry to let him leave.

Really, my weekend was uneventful except for Adam's visit. But I kind of enjoyed it, because I hardly have any real time to myself since I started taking night classes, and it was nice to sit and watch Jane Austen movie adaptations all day.

Yesterday was interesting all the way around. Well, except for work which was really just depressing and made a hundred times moreso when we heard about the Virginia Tech shooting and started watching CNN. (Why?! I mean really, WHY?! What was the point?!)

Despite the black cloud thrown over the day, there were things to look forward to. I had an organic cooking class last night that was really very informative. It was only about greens, but I love greens and it kind of lit a fire under my ass to start eating better and actually COOKING. I've already been cooking a little more than usual, and I find that it's a lot more enjoyable and a thousand times more practical to eat leftovers of home cooking than it is to get fast food every evening after class. And A WHOLE lot healthier and less expensive.

It's not as if this is news to me, but I think my inner Avery (or really Rickett) domestic goddess is beginning to awaken. I'm glad of it because I was fearful I was denied that gene from my mother and my grandmother. I've always liked to cook, but only when I have time or the motivation. But now I want to cook more often and more from scratch - and more organically. The more I learn about how crops are handled by commercial farms, the less I want to eat them. And the more I hear about packaged foods, the less I want to eat those. It's just scary. And I think there's definitely merit to what the natural and organic growers are saying. Just consider how many people wind up with cancer nowadays. My Grandmother will tell you that it was never as prominent until these last two generations. One can't help but wonder if one of the main causes is the chemicals, pesticides, and perservatives that are in commercially processed foods. It's something to think about at the very least.

In any case, I was still thinking about organic foods and considering cooking experiments I might like to try when my phone rang. On the other end was Weak Handshake/Fabio Hair Dude. Well it's about damn time. I was beginning to get annoyed that he hadn't called. Just on principle. But I'm ready to forgive him and give him his shot. On the phone, he seemed a little bit easier than he had been at the dinner. I wonder if he might just be shy of crowds - if that's the case, then I understand all too well. We talked easily and he just seemed to be more laid back than he had been, which improved my opinion a little. The conversation was brief, and we decided on coffee Friday night since the rest of my weekend is full of fundraisers and birthdays. We'll see.

By the way, expect a plug in a couple days. All you Calhounians and those who will be in Calhoun this coming weekend; at least pretend you might come to the NERA 3rd Annual Evening of Bluegrass. PLEASE!

So I leave you with this, one of the coolest songs ever (and one of the most random videos), "Ana Ng" by They Might Be Giants.

"I Sing the Body Electric"

2007-04-12T14:45:00.000-04:00

The love of the body of man or woman balks account, the body itself
balks account,
That of the male is perfect, and that of the female is perfect.
from "I Sing the Body Electric" by Walt Whitman

It's one of my favorite poem titles ever, but now when I read it, it'll bring a whole new meaning.

I actually like my Anatomy and Phisiology class. I knew I would be interested by it, but it's turned out to be absolutely fascinating. And it all makes sense to me. The only class I ever absolutely ACED in college was my biology class, which is weird for an English major, but really, grammar and anatomy/phisiology are very relatable and have similar rules.

I was thinking about it last night, and I decided that the two subjects do translate easily. Cells are like letters. Tissues are like words. Organs are like phrases. Organ systems are like sentences. An organism is like a paragraph. And they make sense. A certain combination produces a certain type of sentence or a certain type of literature. For instance, the heart is really the poetry. The brain is like a novel. It all makes perfect sense to me now.

Wikipeodia has a great entry on Medical Transcription, and I looked over it today. Under the "As a Profession" section, I saw that I'm just about right for this job. I'm really detail-oriented, I am the grammar queen (I just have to work on my spelling), and I'm learning the medical lingo really well. So needless to say, I'm pretty excited about all this.

My sister-in-law said that this might be what I was meant to do, and I'm beginning to believe her. But don't worry - I'll always be a writer and I'll continue to work on my novels. That's what keeps me alive. But this new career prospect will keep me fed and sheltered and happy enough to allow my writing room to grow.

I always did like Operation.

And here's the video for "Sleepsinging" by the Damnwells....well....just because. It's a weird video, but the song is remarkable.

Why Does this Make Me so Nervous?

2007-04-10T15:12:00.000-04:00

Don't worry I'm not looking at you
Gorgeous and dressed in blue
Don't worry I'm not looking at you
I know you see me see you
As you see me walk on past
When there's nothing more I'd like to do
Than come in close and hear you laugh
Though we haven't even spoken
Still I sense there's a rapport
So whisper me your number
I'll call you up at home

Well, I might have a date soon. We didn't meet in quite the way Morphine describes it, but we did meet in a very iconic single person way.

At a dinner party. And it wasn't quite as electric as Mark Sandman describes it either, but I'm a strong believer in trying things on.

My friend David invited me to a dinner party at his and his wife's house Saturday night. It was a little bit out of the blue, but not uncommon for this particular friend. There were four other people there: one married couple and two single men. Hmmm....You reckon there was some conniving going on there? The married couple was great fun and I really liked them. The husband was rather quiet, but then everyone is quiet when David is around because he's definitely an entertainer and that's one of the reasons we love him. In any case, one of the single men was rather younger, and painfully quiet. Seemed like a nice guy, though and smart when he did speak.

The other single man was...well...intriguing I guess is the word. He was kind of quiet too, but he spoke a good bit and popped a few witty remarks. The thing that was interesting was his manner. He was inordinately polite. He shook hands when he was introduced, and kind of had this bearing of one of Jane Austen's gentlemen. The thing that bugged me about this was his handshake - it was very weak, and I always look upon someone with a weak handshake with incredulity until they prove themselves. Maybe it was part of his politeness though. I wondered if he just felt like women should receive less firm handshakes because we're...well...women. Incidentally, I would like it if the males who read my blog would comment on this, because I'm just not sure. All I know is if he shook my Daddy's hand like that, Daddy would immediately be distrustful.

I digress. I also noticed a few other eccentricities. When I mentioned a bad experience I had (bad, not embarrassing), he wore this odd look of concern or...confusion...or something. It was weird. He had interesting facial expressions - and Fabio hair. Fortuneately his hair was the only thing Fabio-esque and only because it was long and blond. A major bonus point in his favor was that he had seen and liked my favorite local bluegrass band, The Groundhawgs (more plugging). And he has a decent job. Imagine that.

In any case, I sensed all night that this odd fellow was kind of...well...what's a distinguished way to put it...um...oh, nevermind...he was kind of macking on me. And my suspicions were confirmed when David called me last night to tell me that Dude was asking about me and wanted to know if I was single. I told David he could give Dude my phone number and we'll see what happens.

I'm not sure about this guy. I'm sure he's not psychotic or evil or even abusive, but I still don't quite know if I like him. Of course, that's what first dates are for. He hasn't called me yet, but I suspect I'll hear from him sometime this week. Anyway, to use one of my favorite phrases again, we'll see.

I'm posting this video here because I feel like I need to give Kevn Kinney his propers. Here's "Sun Tangled Angel Revival." I love this song.

At the Precipice

2007-04-02T09:13:00.000-04:00

Don't be caught with your drawers down
You can step right up, step right up...

Well, maybe not so much a precipice, because I don't think there's any danger involved...well, there could be. I just hope I can follow Tom Waits' advice and not get caught with my drawers down.

This is my first week of classes at Coosa Valley Tech. I finally know what business course I'm taking, so I now know my schedule. And that schedule is Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday from 5:30-10:00 - in the evening. Ouch. But I keep telling myself it's the means to the end. Financial independence and a job I'm not ashamed of - yep, I believe that's worth it.

But it's really not so much the job I'm ashamed of as myself. I know I can do better, and this is my opportunity to prove to myself that I can kick as much ass as I want (figuratively speaking of course). I'm excited, but I'm worried too. I'm just terrified that I'm not as smart as I think I am, and I'm afraid that these classes are going to be more difficult than I think they are. And then there's also that residual effect of the havoc my year of teaching wreaked on me: that fear that I'm going to fail miserably once again.

Yet I must straighten my shoulders and raise up my chin and do my best. Really all those fears are just a trick my mind is playing on me. At least I'm aware of it. I've got my books (that HOPE Grant is really a wonderful thing - I paid $18.77 for $118.77 worth of books), I've got my supplies (I've MISSED buying school supplies), and I'm ready to go.

But first, I have to endure this Grant Committee meeting thing for NERA. I'm not at all familiar with the process of all this political environmental, just plain mental hoopla, but I've talked to our knowledgeable and wise (wait...maybe not wise, but certainly knowledgeable) Executive Director, Professor Jones (as I like to call him) and now that I know a little more about the whole Grant process and all the things that need to be done before the May 31st deadline, I'm a little annoyed.

We have done exactly jack squat to get the ball rolling on this grant thing. The rest of the committee is talking about public meetings and trying to get certain members of the community to help out and whatnot. I do understand the need to gain support and raise the money. But we only have so much time. If these folks had half the passion people like Professor Jones have about this topic, they'd already be out there annoying people into helping. We haven't even had the grant writer at a meeting yet! All I know is that action speaks louder than words, and I ain't seeing a whole lot of action. It's time to buckle down.

Same goes for me. I will have exactly one night to myself this week, and that is Friday. I'm not used to this full of a schedule, but I'm sure I can do it - if I buckle down. And at this point in my life, failure is not an option.

Okay, so here's "Hysteria" by Muse - this song never fails to help me summon the power that lies dormant within my languid little body. Epileptics beware.

I Remember what "Worn Out" Truly Means.

2007-03-27T09:51:00.000-04:00

I want to go to Magnolia Mountain
And lay my weary head down
Down on the rocks
On the mountain my savior made
Steady my soul and ease my worry
Hold me when I rattle like a hummingbird hummin'
Tie me to the rocks on the mountain my savior made

Yes, I would love to go to Magnolia Mountain right now as Ryan Adams describes it - as long as the pollen count up there is reasonable.

You know, in past years I have often lamented at my great lack of activity. I like being busy. I like having things to do – important things. It gives me a sense of worth, which I think any decent person strives for. Well, now that I have a lot to do, I’m wondering if I am worthy.

So as you know, I’m about to start classes at Coosa Valley Tech for Medical Transcription. And as most of you know, I am also on the board of directors for the New Echota Rivers Alliance (as secretary because apparently I just look so damned secretarial). And as some of you know, I went hiking this past weekend after a long time of not hiking – which resulted in the searing ache that now resides in my hips. So yes, I’m a busy girl. But suddenly, I’m about to be a lot busier.

NERA has been trying to help the many (insert sarcastic snigger here) agricultural and environmental agencies of Gordon County get together a grant. A grant that would fund and support and pay us to monitor the possible sources of non-point pollution. Non point pollution (according to my limited knowledge) is pollution that doesn’t come about from the natural erosion and cycles of a river or creek left to its own devices. By monitoring, I mean that samples would be taken from the river and tested using a kit provided and available from the EPA. Our concern with this grant would be the Salacola Creek watershed (my Calhounian buds might know what I’m talking about). The Salacola Creek watershed has apparently been ransacked by sediment – sediment that ain’t supposed to be there. We would be testing (and trying to find the source) for various types of sediments that don’t belong and are aging the creek and its watershed too rapidly. In short, it’s a big friggin’ muddy mess and we have to figure out what’s causing it.

So we had a meeting tonight about this Grant and our plan for it and how to go about getting it written. Somehow, I ended up being the only NERA member present – and I am the least knowledgeable of all the NERA members when it comes to politics, rivers, and pretty much everything else this meeting was about. So I sat there with the strangest sensation that I had a dunce hat on my head as members of various important municipal organizations talked way above my head.

Luckily, I’m good at asking questions when I overcome my natural shyness. And I must have looked pretty smart (man are they fooled) and very secretarial (do I really look that secretarial?) because they charged me with the task of summarizing (on paper) all that we plan to accomplish at upcoming public meetings. So I will be breaking out the highlighter sooner than I thought. I’ve got to shuffle through fifty pages of scientific talk that would be impossible for me to decipher if I didn’t have a decent knowledge of Latin and Greek roots, a menial knowledge of how river systems and erosion work, and basic knowledge of geology and physical geography (I knew those classes would come in handy one day). But it’s all okay, because it’s for a good cause. I’m just terrified of making a terrible fool of myself and (worse) NERA.

But my darlings that’s not all. No, my eyelid would not be twitching now if that was all. NERA also has a fundraiser coming up (on my birthday no less) that is just barely holding together. It would have already fallen apart if not for our fearless Executive Director, Mr. Clayton Jones, who I think puts up with a lot more than he should. As a result of this gigantic mess, poor worn-out Professor Jones has appealed to dear sweet secretarial me to write a press release announcing the fundraiser concert. (Plug time – Mike Compton from O’ Brother Where Art Thou fame, his buddy David Long who is also a damn fine mandolin player, the super remarkable James & Rachel Bryan, and Professor Jones himself are performing in all their bluegrass/string duet glory – Calhounians take note: it’ll be a hell of a show – it really will.) Because I’m such a sucker for overworked, underappreciated, worn-out men doing good works, I agreed to help. But I’m also a sucker for making sure an event my name’s attached to will succeed in helping us to clean up and venerate our lovely little river.

All the while, my hips still hurt, I haven’t heard from my advisor at CVT who I hope will get me signed up for another class, I don’t know if I’m going to get a HOPE Grant yet, I have to find a good example of dialogue I’ve written for my writing meeting Thursday, I have mixed CDs to make for other music-addicted people like myself, I’m worried about the lack of rainfall, I’m worried about two or three of my closest friends, I’m worried about my Grandmother and my Mom, I’m worried about my Dad, I’m broke, and my car is acting like its transmission is a little pissed off. Oh yeah, and I have to work 8-5 every weekday.

No wonder my eyelid keeps friggin’ twitching.

Somebody go get me a fifth of Jack Daniels. Please.

And here is just a taste of some Mike Compton and David Long. Yes, I'm still plugging.

Wow, I'm a Student Again

2007-03-20T09:02:00.000-04:00

I’m an expert on Shakespeare
And that’s a hell of a lot
But the world don’t need scholars
As much as I thought…

And this is exactly why I became an official student at Coosa Valley Technical College today. I’m glad Jamie Cullum (and over half of the English majors I’ve ever met) can commiserate.

When I was in high school and college, I was such a snob, thinking that Technical Colleges were so beneath me. What the hell ever. After receiving a rather brutal slap in the face that has repeated itself over and over again for the past five years, I have discovered that this could be the smartest thing this little scholar has ever done.

The idea to go into Medical Transcription actually originated when I rang up a former Shorter classmate and fellow English major at Barnes and Noble. She told me that she had gone into the field. She emphasized how simple it was to get the certification and how many jobs are out there and how well it pays. But for some stupid reason, I stayed put and held fast to the idea of raising the money to go ahead and get my MFA in Creative Writing. What the hell was I thinking?

After two more shitty retail jobs, a long stint as a substitute teacher, and now my good, but boring and less-than-lucrative office job, I’ve finally awakened and realized that there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to get to Graduate School like this. So the idea came to my head again. This happened relatively recently. My usual process of implementing a plan like this is to think about it for six months, talk about it, and procrastinate. But I’ve run out of time for that idiocy. Now is the time for action, damn it. So I went to CVT about two weeks ago and gathered all the information and paperwork. And today, I turned it in, signed up for at least one class (I’ll have two before the end of the week – gotta figure out which of the business courses I’ve got to take first), got a T-shirt, and walked out an official student at a technical college. Classes start April 2nd. Talk about action.

To tell you the truth, I’m rather excited. I looked over the course descriptions and (I think / hope) this is going to be a cakewalk that will end in a much wider job market for me. Shoot, man, one of the classes is Medical Terminology, which puts an emphasis on learning the histories, etymologies, roots, suffixes, and prefixes of medical terms. What could be more up my ally; word-obsessed geek that I am? Plus Biology was the only class I actually ACED in college. Odd for an English major, huh?

I really do miss being a student and taking classes. I’ve always been a geek, yes. I loved classes in college. I hated tests and papers, but I loved the classes. I can already see bringing in my list of Latin and Greek roots, suffixes, and prefixes; and my classmates begging me to bring copies to help them study. I suppose it’ll also be a bit weird to be in a desk as opposed at the front of the classroom, teaching. It’s been a long time since the tables were turned. But it’ll probably be a relief too.

My only concern at this point is…well…not so much my classmates, but myself. I admit that there is still a bit of an elitist in me, which is ridiculous because I have no real right to feel superior to anyone. I hope that reality has knocked enough of that out of me that it will become a non-issue once I get started. And I am a little nervous about how my classmates will take me. I can’t help the words I use or the way I organize notes or the way I naturally make worksheets for myself (there’s still a little bit of teacher in me too). I just hope they won’t think I’m uppity for these things. From what I understand, there aren’t many college graduates attending the Calhoun campus of CVT, so I’ll really have to watch myself and what I say lest I be thought “high and mighty.”

Because, truth be told, I’m a mite lonely. It’ll be nice to make some new friends and to have conversations every once in a while. Misha’s still in Rome, but she’s so busy and she has a boyfriend, so I can’t see her as much as I’d like. And Krishna had to up and get married and move to Florida. :^( (But she knows I still love her). So I’m kind of on my own a lot. Although much of it is my own fault for being so shy and having this weird thing in my head that makes me feel like I’m bugging people when I call them…Well, that’s another issue for another day.

In any case, it will be really nice to be able to use my vocal chords some a couple days out of the week. And it’ll be really nice to have the prospect of a more substantial career.

And now, just because I’ve discovered how much The Replacements kick ass, here’s “The Ledge.”

More on my recent musical epiphanies here – if you’re bored and so inclined.

The Many Misadventures of a Scatterbrained Girl or My Weekend

2007-03-13T09:18:00.000-04:00

Better jump down a manhole
Light yourself a candle
Don't wear sandals
Try to avoid the scandals
Don't wanna be a bum
You better chew gum
The pumps don't work
'Cause the vandals took the handles

Okay, so the lyrics here from Bob's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" may seem a bit random, but the last line kind of comes into play later on. And I like to brag that I can sing all the words to that entire song. I'm so accomplished.

So as most of you know, I went down to Tallahassee this weekend to visit my dear sweet friend Krishna. Krishna moved down South nearly a year ago and has since come to visit her old Georgia friends many times. But nobody had gone down to see her. So I figured it was her turn.

Aside from a few vehicular and familial snags, the trip was well-planned. I even had super directions with insets of maps I had found online. Of course I barely paid attention to them once I got going. And it did take me a while to get going. It took me an hour to get my errands run in Rome, so I didn't really get on the road until two in the afternoon.

All was smooth sailing down Highway 27. I liked it. I don't do so well in traffic or on interstates, so 27 was the perfect route for me. I didn't stop until I got to LaGrange. Krishna had directed me to get onto I-185 for a few exits. I followed her directions, but got hopelessly confused because I stayed on 27S. So I decided, "hell with it" and continued on 27. Well, I didn't realize that somewhere near Calloway Gardens, 27 was being detoured. Nothing is more obnoxious than a detour on an unfamiliar road. I followed this detour for about 20 miles before I just got too confused to tolerate it, so I stopped at a gas station and got directions from a very bored and possibly gay LaGrange conveniance store worker. I ended up on I-185 for about two exits, but soon found my way back to my good friend, 27S.

On through Columbus and Fort Benning I drove and drove. And before I knew it, I was out in the middle of nowhere. And I mean nowhere. There was NOTHING on either side of the road except for trees. It was very pretty, though. It was around dusk as I was driving through this desolate place, and the hills around were very pretty in the fog. Still, I had to call Krishna just to give me something to do while I was driving through this place. Soon after I hung up with her, I passed the best road name ever. I mean EVER. Benevolence Pumpkin Road. I kid you not. BENEVOLENCE PUMPKIN ROAD!! Not even the adjective, "benevolent" but the noun. I laughed for like fifteen minutes until I passed a Sheriff's Department car and got pulled over for going 77 in a 55. Bad monkey.

Many hours and many miles later I finally rolled into Tallahassee. I was SO happy to see Krishna. And she's such a good hostess, she even had supper waiting for me. Their little house is nice. It's the perfect size for Krishna and her husband, and I'm super proud of her for being more grown-up than me. And her cat is precious, although I now see why Krishna keeps calling her a "strange kitty." We didn't do anything really on Friday night because I was wiped out and I had arrived too late to do much. But Krishna and I did have a couple Jack and Cokes and talked for several hours. Something I have missed SO MUCH about having Krishna around. We always have something to talk about, which is a rare thing for me.

Saturday after all were awake and showered, Krishna and I took a pilgramage to Krispy Kreme. Ooooohhhhh Krispy Kreme. Because we are so far away from one up here in the NW Georgia sticks, any opportunity I have to get some REAL, fresh Krispy Kremes is always taken advantage of. I ended up with a dozen (actually, 14 because the little dude at the counter was very sweet and gave me four of the blueberry ones because they're smaller) and Krishna ended up with a dozen. We sat in the glow of the glazing machine and happily chowed down on a lemon-filled (in my case) and a cinnamon apple filled (for Krishna).

Our stomachs properly full of the most unhealthy pastry known to man (if it's not the most unhealthy, let me know what is so I can try it), we headed for the one place in Tallahasse Krishna most wanted me to visit: Vinyl Fever. All right, so Vinyl Fever is what a record store ought to be. CDs by a huge variety of artists at decent prices and a vast section of used CDs. It's a huge store. And I was in my own little Paradise on Earth. I'm not sure how long we were there. I always lose track of time and space when I'm in such a kick-ass record store. Krishna and I were like a couple little girls in a candy store. I ended up spending way too much money, but it's been a very long time since I've bought any music (ack!). When I took my CDs to the counter, the dude working there flirted with me in the best possible way - going on musical taste. Tom Waits always brings the love.

The Florida State Capitol Building - what were they thinking?

We had lunch (we allowed Krishna's husband, Cliff to join us after Vinyl Fever) at a good seafood place and continued to just kind of galavant around Tallahassee. We enjoyed the lovely view of the very phallic Capitol building (I mean, REALLY phallic), and went to a few stores and whatnot. We really just had a lovely time. I also noticed that there are a lot of really good-looking men in Tallahassee. A LOT of good-looking men. And they're not all oiled-up muscle men, nor do they really seem to be fanboys. They're just...good-looking. And when I made this observation to Krishna I got the strangest sense that she was trying to sell me on this little town. Hmmm...

Once we got back to Krishna and Cliff's house, we really just took it easy. We all checked our e-mail on their super cool wi-fi network and Krishna made us supper. She's such a sweetheart and made spaggetti with meat in it despite the fact that she's a vegetarian. Later on, we broke out the Whiskey again and I proceeded to get my ass beat at Mario Cart.

The next morning I had to get going because I wanted to get up to Macon to see my friend Adam before it got too late. It's just as well, because poor Krishna suddenly had a sinus attack or something similar and wasn't feeling so great. We said our goodbyes and I miss her already.

I had to take I-75 to Macon, and althouth I don't much like the interstate, I didn't mind braving it to see Adam. I ended up taking 319 up to Tifton to catch I-75. 319 was fairly uneventful except for the slight little mistake I made in Moultrie. I ended up on Business 319 instead of regular ole 319 North, but all that transpired was that I had to take a few funny little turns in downtown Moultrie.

75 was a little crazy. There were more people on the road than I had anticipated, but I managed okay. It really didn't take too terribly long before I was in Macon. I got to town at about three, which was exactly the time I had been shooting for. If you knew how rarely this happens to me, you'd understand why I was so impressed with myself.

I found Adam's place easily, but I was earlier than he had expected. He had promised me food, so we went in search of it. Well, a search it was indeed. He had mentioned a very good pizza place. We found it, but they were closed. Then the idea of a home cooking place was shot down when they turned out to be closed. Then we though, surely a Sushi place would be open. Well, it wasn't. All during this pinball game of trying to find food, Adam pointed out a few things about Macon and we had some good conversation as we always have done, so I didn't mind the running around. I just felt bad for Adam having to drive me all over creation.

Finally, we ended up at Cheddar's. It's a nice place and they know what "medium rare" means. I was very pleased with my steak and it was so good to sit with Adam and laugh and talk. He's one of those folks from the old days that I have always really missed. It's so rare to meet a good-hearted, level-headed, good-looking man of a certain age, and Adam is all three. His ex must be out of her mind.

After we ate (well, I ate - Adam had eaten already), he drove me around Macon to show me certain points of interest. It's a nice town. Lots of beautiful old houses that are sadly run down. But some of them have been remodeled and are beautiful again. He showed me the Mercer campus and his house as well. I love his little house and it just breaks my heart that he's going to have to sell it and start all over again. Divorce is so ugly.

We really had a good time riding around, and mostly it was just nice to hang out with Adam. I get a feeling that he's trying to sell me on Macon just as Krishna was trying to sell me on Tallahassee. We'll see kids.

Anyway, I said goodbye to Adam sooner than I would have liked, but I really needed to get home at a decent hour since I had to work the next day. So I headed out. 75 continued to be a little crazy, but all went pretty well until I stopped for gas.

I don't know where I was, but I stopped at a BP station. It was prepay only, which I don't like but I can deal with it. So I pulled up to the pump and I went in to get a Diet Dr. Pepper and pay for 20 bucks in gas. I paid, went outside, got into the car, and headed off. I had gone at least 30 miles before I realized that I had forgotten to pump my gas. So I hope somebody had a good time with my twenty bucks. I felt like such and idiot and I still do, because twenty bucks is a small fortune for someone like me. I stopped somewhere in Jackson and had to pay with my debit card. Bleh.

Anyway, Atlanta was crazy as usual, but all turned out well, and I got home at about eight thirty.

It was a hell of a trip, but it was worth all the little problems along the way. I'm in one piece and I got to see my friends. All is well with the world.

So here's some Bob.

In the Name of "Duh..."

2007-03-07T10:15:00.000-05:00

You rhapsodize about beauty
and my eyes glaze
everything that i love is ugly
I mean really, you would be amazed
just do me a favor
it's the least that you can do
just don't treat me like I am
something that happened to you

So I’m listening to this Ani Difranco song – bitter in that beautifully painful way that she’s bitter – wondering if she’s just melodramatic or if I’ve just never really been in love.

I’ve tried not to make this blog about my dating life, but it’s definitely an issue in my life as it is and it’s definitely something that I think about. By American standards, I’m not all that old and nowhere near an old maid, but by Calhoun standards, I might as well be dead. I get really annoyed when I go to a shower or a wedding and all my relatives are looking at me like, “Well? What’s your problem?” I’d be surprised if one or two of them didn’t think I’m a lesbian. I’m just not one to settle. I refuse to marry just for the sake of getting married. I absolutely refuse. I’ve broken up with many a man who was wonderful and seemingly perfect in every way by “marrying” standards. Many ladies around me (including my office manager) look at me like I’m insane and proceed to name off potential sweethearts based solely on the fact that they are single. I think about explaining to them that I don’t want to marry just anybody, but in the end, I realize that it’s pointless because I’m not going to make them understand. I will only marry a man I love. I mean really love. Somebody who I can dance to “Bewitched” by Ella Fitzgerald with without feeling too self-conscious or shy. Somebody with whom I can be the girl I am in my head (and my heart). Damn it.

Which brings me back to the first issue. I really don’t think I’ve ever been in love with anyone. When I think about past beaus, I feel no real ache at their absence, nor did I ever. The closest I come to an ache is when I think about a man I dated about five years ago who was wrong for me in every single way. He was eleven years older, only in the area for the summer, and averse to being in one place for too long. But we got along beautifully. Had wonderful conversations (among other things), and we were utterly comfortable with each other. While it lasted, it was the best relationship I probably ever had. I miss him and think about him ALL THE TIME. But I never get this burning feeling of need and loss when I think of him (well aside from the very occasional moment when I’m really reminded of him by something or when I’m lonely and given too much time to think). I usually just kind of sigh and think, “Well, shit.”

I suppose when I say I’ve never been in love, I mean that I’ve never really gotten far enough inside a man to really know him and be dazzled or pleased with everything I saw there. And God knows none of them have ever really tried very hard to get too far into my heart and head. I imagine it would be a scary place to a newcomer.

And then I wonder if my idea of love is wrong. Which I think everyone’s is until they really feel it. And I think of my friends who have been married and divorced and still suffer for the loss. But do they suffer for the loss of the person, the stability, or the habit of being married? It must be different for every case, of course, but I’m sure that in some cases, it may be all three.

The only conclusion I can come to now is that loving somebody is the ability to be the person you are in your head with them and knowing that they have the same ability with you. So I’ve never been in love. Because I’ve never really been able to be the girl I am in my head with any of my exes – except that one man I mentioned. But he couldn’t be the man he was in his head with me. So I reckon it’s all for the better.

I’ll just keep my eyes and my mind open and maybe I’ll get lucky one of these days. And you can double entendre that as much as you want.

Now more bitterness from Ani Difranco.
This is a great song from her Dilate album.
"Napoleon"

A Product of Upbringing?

2007-02-26T08:55:00.000-05:00

Well, I'm assuming by the lack of comment that I am a little out of my mind concerning the "thing." Oh well. They'll come for me with that pretty white coat sooner or later.

So you're gonna be institutionalized
You'll come out brainwashed with bloodshot eyes
You won't have any say
They'll brainwash you until you see their way.

I'm not crazy - institutionalized
You're the one who's crazy - institutionalized
You're driving me crazy - institutionalized

I love my folks. I really do, but I've begun to wonder if they haven't coddled me a bit too much. Actually, I know they're overprotective. Especially with me, their youngest and only daughter. I have no idea of why they (and my brothers for that matter) continue to see me as perpetually 16 years old.

I started to think about it after I got off the phone with my dad last night - at the end of a conversation that really kind of pissed me off.

I'm going to Tallahassee in a couple weeks to see Krishna (YAY!!) and I've been looking forward to it for months now. I thought I might borrow my folks' extra car (what they call "The Wal-Mart" car) just to be on the safe side and because the Taurus has a CD changer and tape deck that work. My poor little car needs a thermostat and four new motor mounts, so I thought it best not to push it until I can afford to get it fixed.

I thought borrowing this car would be no problem. So I mentioned it to my mom, who is the one who actually drives the car. She of course doesn't like the idea of my going all that distance alone, but she didn't seem to have a problem with it beyond that. But she suggested I mention it to Daddy, who is a mechanical genius and can fix practically anything - if he wants to. So I asked him. The blunt reply I got was, "We won't even drive it to Chattanooga." Okay. Well. So I asked him what was wrong with it. "It needs new tires" (reasonable) "and it's got a lot of miles on it." What? That never stopped them before.

Following that, the conversation somehow turned into an arguement (and I haven't argued with my folks in quite a long time). At the conclusion, his lovely reply was "You're 28 years old and I can't tell you what to do, but if it all goes to hell you're the one who'll have to deal with the consequences." As if I didn't know that. According to my parents, any venture that is more than 30 miles and involves me driving alone at some point is bound to "go to hell."

I understood my dad's concerns, but he seemed to not want me to go anywhere at all. I also understand that there is a lack of new and well-running cars at my disposal, and I won't deny that it's also a concern of mine. But when my Dad started making me feel guilty about going off for a weekend ("your mom needs a weekend off too" - well why don't you take her somewhere, Daddy?), I got a bit upset. Because this always happens any time I try to do something on my own: they make me doubt and they make me feel guilty.

So I wondered if my tendancies toward being a complete and utter wuss have honest roots. I know they don't do it on purpose, but they have always made me feel bad about trying things on my own - all the while trying to instill in me the value of being independant. I'm sure the feeling bad part is mostly in my own mind, but they certainly do know how to make it worse. Again, I know they don't realize it, but man have they messed with my head. There are so many normal kid things I still don't know how to do. I never learned how to ride a bike ("the neighborhood is too hilly"), I never learned how to skate properly ("I don't like you being at that skating rink"), I had a total of two birthday parties with friends when I was growing up ("the house is too much of a mess" or "I don't know those kids"), and I'm still a really crappy swimmer (granted, they tried there, but just because they were afraid I might drown someday if didn't know how to swim).

I hope I'm not sounding like a petulant teenager here, but this has begun to disturb me. I have always had this fear of moving on and leaving my old ways behind, and I think I've begun to understand part of where that comes from. I've been encouraged to be afraid. And I don't think it's my parents' fault either. My Grandmother is the Olympic Champion worry-wart, and I can't imagine how my Mom tolerated it as a kid. As for Daddy, well, I think his deal is the fact that I'm a girl. Heaven forbid I do anything remotely tough. I realize that these are all signs that they care, and I really do have wonderful parents who have always been very supportive and raised us well. I'm glad they were strict - to a degree. Yet some of their boundaries may have been too much and now I'm dealing with the consequences - stuck in college debt and only now starting to develop a plan to get out of this horrible five-year rut.

I'm not blaming this on them, though. It's more my fault for allowing myself to be afraid. At least now that I'm aware of it, I can do something about it.

Okay, I've whined quite long enough.
Now it's time to THRASH

The "Thing"

2007-02-22T09:46:00.000-05:00

We sat grown quiet at the name of love;
We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by time's waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years.
I had a thought for no one's but your ears:
That you were beautiful, and that I strove
To love you in the old high way of love;
That it had all seemed happy, and yet we'd grown
As weary-hearted as that hollow moon.
from "Adam's Curse" by William Butler Yeats

I’ve been doing a bit of thinking on the subject of the “thing.” The “thing” that I’m speaking of is an ambiguity that is rather difficult to define. It’s a feeling toward someone else. In my case(s) they have all been toward the opposite sex and have smacked of amorous connection. It’s a sort of intuitive sense of knowing someone so profoundly, that it may not even be the outward version of this person. It’s more a sense about the inward version. And it’s a gravitational pull that draws your inward version to their inward version. Does this make any sense?

I’ve experienced this with four different men, and not once has it lead to anything very far beyond friendship (well, not yet). But I’ve learned a lot about myself and human nature through these odd communions. And I cherish my time with these men because I’ve always had an easy rapport and really, really interesting and deep conversations with them. All four of them have left pieces of themselves in the characters I’ve created for my novels.

The first “thing” man I met was a good friend in high school. We even dated for a very little while. We always shared some truly witty and fun banter, but we also confided in each other and took what the other said to heart. In essentials, we’re very much alike. We always understood each other and could have conversations without saying a word. And when he was suffering or angry or upset, I always felt it too – beyond sympathy. I’ve begun to feel that we have very similar souls (if you believe in that sort of thing).

The second of these enigmatically understandable men was also someone I dated for a very little while in high school. We were so different that we understood each other. It was more than an opposites attract kind of thing: it was more like we came full circle around each other and bumped into each other again on the other side. We were masters of the witty and entertaining banter. With him I could always exercise my latent blatant side. I could be downright blunt with him, and he with me. We were the moderates on opposite sides of a debate.

Number three was someone I met in college. The first time I saw him striding arrogantly across the dining hall, verses started flooding my brain. For one thing, he was beautiful. I mean a BEAUTIFUL man. Half Cherokee, long curly hair, painfully incisive gray eyes, tall, built like his native ancestors. Good God. It’s the first time I actually felt a rush of temperature just by looking at someone. For a while, I just watched and observed. He intrigued me. The first time we actually spoke was in a mutual friend’s dorm room. He made fun of my Southern accent as so many of my Atlanta-bred classmates did, but he teased in his own rather thick Northeast Georgia mountain accent. And he was a poet. A remarkable poet whose work really moved me. We didn’t actually talk too much in the traditional sense, but we communicated through writing and moments of drunken inhibition. He saw the woman I could become and I saw the man he could become. He was a rogue, but I was madly in love with him of course. He had issues. I had none. But I always sensed a goodness in him that was more powerful than his misbehavior. He hid this goodness so well that not many people liked him. In recent years, I’ve discovered (indirectly) that I was right about him all along, because he doesn’t hide his goodness anymore. I still write poems and have dreams about him. You could say he was my first real muse.

The final and most recent “thing” man is someone I’ve known my entire life and have always liked and respected. We met for the first time as adults maybe three or four years ago at a bar. We had a brief conversation, and didn’t really see much of each other. About a year and a half ago, I got a call from him completely out of the blue. He was teaching a college course and seeking some creative advice. From then on, he would call me every once in a while, usually at about three in the morning, and we’d end up talking for hours and hours. He invited me to continue the conversation at his house twice (six months apart), and both times we ended up in lip lock. We are more outwardly similar than any of the other “thing” men. As a friend said, we’re headed to the same place in separate cars. We love the same things, we have the same kind of thoughts, and I’ve begun to think that I may have a calming effect on his profoundly A.D.D. mind. I still don’t know what’s going on there, and frankly I’m getting a bit annoyed at myself for wondering.

Lately, I’ve been in contact with the first and the last of these “thing” men more than ever before. Probably the two men with whom this “thing” has been the deepest and the most latent. Odd how that happens. Now granted, this could all be in my head, but I don’t think so. I honestly don’t think so although I must allow that it could possibly be a projection of my respect and curiosity onto them. I just wonder if they consider me one of their “thing” women. And I wonder if either of these “things” might evolve. My money’s on one more than the other. And the more I think about it, the more I realize that I might prefer that particular “thing.” The question is which “thing” should I take the most stock in? Which is more real, more tangible?

And I’d also like to pose the question: Do y’all have “thing” men or women, or is this a creation of my sometimes overly active imagination?

A song that for some reason makes me think of all of my "thing" men. This is the Volebeats doing "Somewhere in My Heart"

My Real High School Reunion & NERA

2007-02-20T09:16:00.000-05:00

As pretty as a song
A song could ever be
Like Christmas on a river
Without a boat or Christmas tree
This afternoon with you was something like a letter
The kind that someone writes but never sends
And when you look at me
You remind me that someday it's gonna end
And when you pass on
I bet you miss your friends

And people wonder why I love Ryan Adams so much when he writes lyrics like that.

Say what you will about that entity of ambiguity we like to call Myspace, but it sure as hell can be a marvelous way to get back in touch with old friends you wish you'd never lost touch with.

When I went to my ten year high school reunion, it didn't really feel like my reunion. It was great to see certain folks and I don't regret going, but my best friends from the old days were either younger or older than me. As I looked about that room last summer at the 25 classmates out of a hundred that actually showed up, I wondered if it would be in poor taste to crash next year's reunion (and the next year's for that matter). But thanks to the wondrous Myspace and Adam being the sweetheart he has always been, we got our real reunion (minus one or two) Saturday.

I was a bit nervous about the whole thing. It had been ten years since I'd seen most of them, and I was worried that it might be a bit awkward. Plus we were visiting a member of the old crew who has a three week old baby, and me being the socially aware Southern girl that I am worried that it would be a bit weird or tacky to have not seen this feller for ten years, then suddenly visit his little girl. I found out rather quickly that nothing was awkward, weird, or tacky.

We hung out at Jason's apartment, met his remarkably cool girlfriend and their adorable little girl, and it was just like the old days when we used to just sit around and talk about any and everything. We went to lunch, had some beers, remembered old dramas that now seem so silly. We went back to the apartment and talked about our lives now. A couple folks had to leave, but those of us who remained had supper (at a place where you can STILL SMOKE INSIDE - Yay!), went to Dave and Busters and played pool and geeked out on the video games. Simple stuff, really, but I couldn't tell you the last time I had such a good time.

As I get older, I realize more and more that most folks don't really change that much fundamentally. We're still basically the same people we were in high school, but evolved. The problems are more complex and the conversation more sophisticated, but we still like each other for the same reasons we liked each other then. And it really put some things into perspective for me. I spent years trying to improve and get away from who I was, but I liked who I was then, and it's helped me to understand that I like me now too. I just have to remember that and be the best me I can be. These folks always liked me for who I am, so why can't I?

And I hope they know that I've never forgotten them. I hope they know how proud I am of them. I'm amazed at the careers they've built, the children they've had and how good they are with them. Kind of gives me hope that I can do those things too. We're convening again in April when one of the key members of the group will be in town from Boston, and I absolutely cannot wait to see her and to see them again. Why does it take ten years to realize how good you had it in high school?

As usual, I couldn't find a video of the song I quoted, but here's one of Ryan Adams doing "Let it Ride" which also has nostalgic qualities to it.

Since I was so worn out by Saturday's Nostalgia-fest, I didn't do jack on Sunday, but Monday night was the NERA Annual Membership meeting.

For those of you who don't know what NERA is, it is the New Echota Rivers Alliance, a non-profit organization that I'm on the board for (I'm the mighty Secretary). We try to involve ourselves in all things concerning the Oostanaula Watershed and how it's managed and in the recreational possibilities that we can develop and so on. Now, this may not seem very exciting, but it was for me because I enjoy and am proud of the work we do, and there are certain people also involved that I am very fond of.

We had a keynote speaker, who happened to be the director of the Rome and Floyd County Recycling Center. It was really interesting and really informative and eye-opening. It's amazing the money we waste when we toss recyclables into the landfills. I won't go all preachy or anything, but it's something to think about.

Here are a Couple of Links to articles that may be of particular interest to any of y'all who live or used to live in the Calhoun area.

http://news.mywebpal.com/news_tool_v2.cfm?pnpid=722&show=archivedetails&ArchiveID=927522&om=1

http://news.mywebpal.com/news_tool_v2.cfm?pnpid=722&show=archivedetails&ArchiveID=1177148&om=1

Valentine's Day

2007-02-14T08:48:00.000-05:00

Flowers flying cross the room
Vases smashed against the floor
Said "I'd rather be alone
Take your chocolates and go home"

I'm really not that cynical about this day, but given my recent mood for Drive By Truckers tunes, I figured the above lyrics from "Feb. 14" were appropriate. :^)

I do like Valentine's Day, but I don't like to celebrate it just for the sake of celebrating it. In other words, I'm not the type who goes out looking for someone to buy me flowers in honor of two Roman Saints who nobody knows anything about (even the Catholic Church).

So, I'm sure many ladies will think I'm crazy for this, but I actually turned down an offer to have supper cooked for me tonight in favor of enjoying the one day I'll have to myself this week. It was a very nice gesture, but I barely know the person who offered. It just seems so forced and unnatural to celebrate Valentine's with someone you've only had one date with. Now, if I was in a relationship with this person, it would be completely different. I just don't want the guy to go to all the trouble and get nothing out of it, because he wouldn't get anything out of it. That may sound a little cruel, but I've come to one very important realization: I have absolutely no obligation to give anything a date may think he is owed.

Some men feel that buying a woman dinner and taking her out and so forth gives them certain rights. Where is this written? Was it one of the Commandments that God told Moses to edit? Until someone can show me the section in the penal code that states that a woman must bow at her date's beneficience, I refuse to give in to this manifesto.

I also refuse to grin and nod when I am handed a large red stuffed frog bearing the words "BE MINE" on the bottom of his foot. Valentine's Day is just the sort of holiday that warrents yard sales. Especially when you give in to the "just because it's Valentine's" date. This is why Valentine's should be reserved for those who are already in a relationship. I don't know how most women are, but I think it's a little bit creepy to be offered gifts right away in a new relationship - even if it is Valentine's Day. Again, it gives you that sense of obligation and the man more power than he should have at that stage.

I have ranted, and I'm about done now, but I'm sick and tired of feeling guilty and being asked to further explain my dating/relationship actions. It's exhausting and I'm getting too damn old for it.

Now, I have an evening of a bath, a book, and a DVD ahead of me to plan. And I haven't looked forward to anything this much in a long time. :^)

One of my favorite love songs courtesy of the Dead Milkmen:

Waffle House and the Creative Process

2007-02-07T14:16:00.000-05:00

It’s really quite amazing how much just being around people can inspire a novelist. I don’t even really pay much attention to them unless I’m stuck on a word or a scene or a piece of dialogue. I don’t stay stuck nearly as long when I’m around folks. I don’t know if I pick up on the energy of the people around or if I subconsciously hear something that somebody said or notice some errant movement. Whatever the magic is, it works for me.

This is why the Waffle House is so important. Although I’m rather displeased with the fact that you can’t smoke at a Georgia Waffle House anymore, I still go there when I know I need to do some writing and my apartment gets too damn depressing to inspire any sort of creative thought. Ah, I’ll quit soon anyway.

You can’t expect to work straight through at the Waffle House either. There’s always someone there to offer some brief distraction which can be really helpful. Granted, there are sometimes those regular WaHoo patrons who distract to hindrance, but they usually mean well. I suppose I should expect it. The little girl sitting by herself, ordering only hot water, putting creamer in her tea, hiding under a black beret and behind a laptop screen is a bit of a Waffle House anomaly around here. It always surprises me how curious some folks are – and how bold. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to explain that I’m not a student and that I’m doing all this writing for the sheer pleasure and prospect of it. But then they’re always intrigued and want to know what the book is about.

My particular Waffle House out on Red Bud Road is filled with regulars, and they know me by now. They’ll ask how the book’s coming and ask questions about my laptop and the Wi-Fi my WaHoo still doesn’t have (man, I hope they wake up and smell the 21st Century soon). I don’t know if they realize how much I appreciate their interest deep down. It really gives me hope for humanity’s waning appreciation of the literary arts. At least they’re curious. I know may seem a little stand-offish to them, but I never mean to be. My mind’s just elsewhere, I reckon.

But I always tip at least two bucks despite the fact that I almost never order anything they charge for. :^)

If you want to read what I wrote at my friendly neighborhood Waffle House last night, here’s a link to it:

http://www.eliteskills.com/z/134193

I kind of like it. Since Terrance and Steve have been rather elusive lately, I decided Owen needed some attention. He is, after all, a fledgling in need of some refinement and TLC. I’m kind of proud of the descriptions too, although I need more of the house – maybe.

"It's that kind of town and you're so far down you can't get up....

2007-02-05T21:19:00.000-05:00

...I can't tell you what to sell and how to tow the line
and when to just give up."

Well, at least that's how I feel at the moment.

We all come to crossroads, and despite the fact that it's a very trite metaphor, it's a true one.

I found myself in that all too familiar situation of the recent breakup, and although breaking up with someone and one's career path seem to be unrelated, in the case of those of us who think too much, the lack of such a successful distraction as a lukewarm relationship can prove to be very eye-opening. You wake up single and think, "Now what have I forgotten to do since I started dating him?" My particular answer to that question was, "Oh yeah. You forgot to get out of your 5-year rut."

My rut has to do mostly with my lack of satisfying employment or a satisfying post-graduate degree. Sadly, this rut has also left me destitute and unable to do whatever I please with my time and job search and education.

So comes the crossroads. Do you stagnate here in a land of carpet mills and outlet malls or do you take a risk and try it out someplace else. Well, obviously the latter is the best choice. But it's much more easily said than done. Because many more questions arise. Where do you go? What do you do about work? What if Grandmother gets worse and the folks need your help? How in the name of all that is holy do you afford it? Hmm..Tricky.

I know I will figure it out and I know all will be well, and I'm not asking advice or pity. I just wonder what others would do in this situation. English degree, allergic to teaching, trying to finish a book that you can't focus on because you're too worried about money...Tricky indeed.

So I thus embark on the great coming of age moment that has been much delayed for me. Y'all bear with me.

Aaron, you've created a blogging monster. It was the Storm Trooper. Had to be.

Here's a nice little video of The Drive By Truckers. In lieu of "Easy on Yourself," their song that I quoted (couldn't find an embedable one), here's one of "Never Gonna Change." Enjoy the beautiful Southern grit.