Saturday, March 31, 2007
2. I bought some iTunes with the gift certificate ashley gave me (thanks, ash!) that I'm truly embarassed about. One is "Dust in the Wind," but the wrong version, because I didn't bother to look up the artist first, and more sadly, didn't know the artist to begin with (Kansas, hello??!!). Not that the Todd Rundgren version is bad, but I have little use for it, and just feel dumb about it. Obviously, it was the version Will Ferrell sang at Blue's funeral in Old School that I really wanted.
Another is the 2007 Grammy Nominees album. I'm only partially embarassed about the latter, because it does contain several good tunes, such as Gnarls Barkley's "Crazy," Corinne Bailey Rae's "Put Your Records On," and Death Cab for Cutie's "I Will Follow You into the Dark." But this all turns sad when you realize that I already have all the good stuff. The reason I bought the whole album was that it had "Unwritten," which I like only because it's the theme song for "The Hills," and "Hide and Seek," by Imogen Heap, which I'm pretty sure (but not positive) is the song they played during Caleb's funeral procession a few seasons ago on The OC. I've been looking for this song forever, and it's kind of a random miracle that I even found it, because I didn't know either the artist or the track name, and listening to The OC soundtrack samples on amazon.com didn't help. I really kind of like the song, but how sad is it that I wanted it for its OC associations, and I'm not even really sure it's the correct song.
And also, the 2007 Grammy Nominees album features, among other ear-sores, "My Humps" and "Stickwitu." Yes, I have been watching "PCD: The Search for the Next Doll," but I also have my limits on what is unacceptably poor taste. Which, apparently, do not cross over into the iTunes shopping world.
But, 23 songs for $9.99??? Come on.
To my defense, I also purchased Cyndi Lauper's "True Colors," Israel Kamakawiwo'ole's "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," and Jeff Buckley's version of "Hallelujah." And for those 3 tracks alone, I am wholly satisfied.
3. J.Lo just brought home a new shower caddy(!!!), and my whole day has just been made.
In high school, as my friend J. can attest, whenever I did get hungry, I'd call out, "Food refill!" Kind of a request, demand, and warning all in one. Meant it to be charming, but really, it's kind of rude, right? I mean, polite to warn others of impending irrational lash-out, I suppose, but I wonder why I didn't just get up and get myself a snack? Must be I only reserved that for visits to others' houses. Must be I found it less rude to warn and request rather than pretend I lived there.
Anyway, I'm thinking at this juncture, it's very lucky that we own our home and posess a well-stocked fridge and pantry. They don't always have everything a girl could want at her disposal, all the time (like where are those fucking cheese sticks already?!), but they contain a lot. For instance, at 10:52 this morning, I am feasting on Doritos. How lucky is that? So lucky. I like to think of it as my post-breakfast breakfast, or perhaps my pre-lunch lunch. I eat at least 5 meals a day now, have I mentioned? And it doesn't even make me blink. Because it's all about fending off the Green, people, it's my only goal.
Friday, March 30, 2007
brownies: baked, devoured
green: (sigh) yes
the office: still repeats
bug: walking, climbing on rocking chair
weekend: maybe some gardening, getting new front door
mini bagels: so tasty
emails: mostly unanswered
outside: kinda cold.
lately or because i'm paranoid, all the time, i hear little comments that belie a certain conception of me and i might like it just a little too much. 'you have a mischievious look on your face', 'stay out of trouble'... and the like. especially with our head detective who though cordial and generally he really likes me, there is an element of sizing me up and feeling me out... he makes comments now and again that let me know he's watching and a bit suspicious... and hoping he's wrong... but that he wouldn't be 'surprised'. he jokes that i make a run for the door, and that if i don't have my bag checked we'll have to 'sit down and have a talk' and yet... granted, and this is why i know i'm not NOT a thief, is that I don't take for granted i have freedom. i assume i'm being watched, tracked, identified and noted...
the fact that when these guys got caught for cheating the frequent buyer system- i thought wow, stupid. they shouldve at least taken on 6-8 rotating identities and come up with a purchasing system, like duh of course they're being watched! too bad. not clever enough! not, for shame, though steal'th from the corporate monster! i had, to my mind, already thought of a couple ways to steal from the store without getting caught (hopefully)... just on idle time... i tell you i'm reformed. i swear! but this is where my mind goes. i look for what they're looking for, what 'to catch a thief' scenarios are in place- where is the camera? how do i avoid the camera? where are the blindspots... sit in those. where to steal time and all the rest. i can't help myself. think of it as habitat enrichment, a mensa problem solver...nothing but killing the time, and saying, no, no, that's a bad mendacious- you live a reformed non-thefting life. just walk on by.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
- art room
- read hood, city of god, moviegoer
- watch blue velvet
- work on poem
- stare at painting
- do not paint
- eat salad
- do not eat fries
- lay out
- wear sunscreen
- pull weeds
- plant something
- make fresh orange juice
- order 4x6
- stare at blue sky
Well, apparently, at the ripe old age of 29, I have become stuck. Rusted over like the Prego Tin Man, and there is no can of oil around. My left hip has had, for well over 24 hours now, that feeling of Needing Badly to Be Cracked. Popped. Anything Rice Krispie-like would be good. I feel like a good yoga pose or two might do the trick, and yet I'm a little terrified I might break.
It kind of reminds me of the time in high school when I went to crack my neck on the bus to school, and it totally got stuck to the side. The whole muscle cramped up, and there I was, frozen in an overly thoughtful head-cock, tears streaming down my face. Oh wait no, that was just funny. This, on the other hand, geez it kind of hurts. Too bad they don't make these things a little taller. Mommy could use one right now.
But what about a pregnant lady? Do you tell her you're out of something? Do you rush right out to Costco for a refill, despite your pledge not to give any more of your money to the price club this week? I'm out of Polly-O mozza sticks, is the thing. I've been pilfering them from K.Lo all week, and after frantically upturning the drawer this morning, discovered there is not a one left. K.Lo will be fine, I'm not worried about the Bug. But me? I kind of NEED Polly-O mozza sticks. I might die without my string cheese.
I'm just asking, isn't my character quite built enough?
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
i happen to know someone who knows someone who is working as a magicians assistant. and she had an open tab at the bar which was like christmas come early- as magic, occassionally bad magic, is a hell of a lot more amazing when running on long islands. everything, bah-lieve me, is amazing and really some of those tricks really are amazing. i mean how'd he do that?! i have no idea!! and then of course there's the drunk girl saying- where's the bunny! i want him to pull out a bunny... and the magician with a brit's accent raising his brows like she said something dirty. we all laugh regardless. the night and the tricks kept getting better and better. much like my weekend- each preformed at a cost with a level of difficulty equals huge applause.
so fueled and amazed i managed to stay up for a total of 21 hours. and onward to a sewing circle- where i made a magical apron and then the next day after that was a magical tea- where i razzled and dazzled with simple things like inherited silver and linen... and my mother's garden and money... and some donated china... of course, props, does not a feat make but an assemblage of all the perfect elements... and the willing participation of your guests. i'm going for something profound here but i can't muster the consentration-
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
anyway, contributing to the malaise of feb/march was my visit to my great grandmothers house- which is in a poor and super-urbanized part of LA. there's something wonderful about it still standing though in most breaths i say, "abomination" and make a wide biblical sweeping motion with my right hand. they bought it for 1,000 or so in 1918... and it's still standing. my great-grandmother's house was my favorite place in the world to my memory- velvet drapes, closed drawing rooms i couldn't enter, rikety stairs, lace curtains, sprigs of flowers, and one exploration of hazy summer butterflies after another. and when i think about it, it's like taking a fresh breath in a stagnant and ordinary smog. so of course encountering the reality of time and neglect, there is very little to add but a sad nostalgia. luckily i only had my camera phone with me, as i hadn't seen the house since i was a kid it was a spontaneous visit, it gives the stark grit of concrete and sagging stucco a gentle blur which makes the pain and ruination of art almost bearable. the form still survived- i said, as i drove by and stopped, wow, there it is... and the house next to it too- wow. huh. huh. i thought. i want to somehow print out the old pictures and mail them to the current owners... explain to them what it could all look like again if they wanted... maybe break up the cement island and plant grass... maybe? that would be a start. and then the bars on the windows... possibly? like a nice letter encouraging them to care.
i don't know.
next up is a brief pondering on my tea and magic castle visit.
1) meals featuring ground beef, i.e. Sloppy Joes, meatballs, enchiladas, tacos, and hamburgers
2) sides featuring potato products, i.e. mashed potatoes, potato salad, and fries.
Although last night I had an overwhelming urge for brownies (still there, btw, still unsatisfied), there really hasn't been much else that stands out, aside from the ground beef and potato randomness. Is it a nostalgia thing, or is this just what my body needs? I do believe in the importance of cravings, like it means your body needs something in that food, and unless you're craving dirt or paint chips, you should listen. Last week I feasted on Sloppy Joes every day for lunch, and I can't seem to stop myself from purchasing Potato Buds. I've never bought Potato Buds outside of pregnancy, and it's not that I have anything against Potato Buds and the people who use them, but I suppose outside of pregnancy, the desire for mashed potatoes is not so pressing. I can take the time to peel, dice, cook and mash real potatoes; whereas when pregnant, must have mashed potatoes yesterday. And it only takes a few minutes with the help of the microwave.
Which, speaking of, it is actually 3 minutes past 11 EST, and therefore technically LUNCH. I'm out.
Monday, March 26, 2007
But apparently, this time around, I am growing massive amounts of new hair. I first noticed new growth a few weeks ago around my hairline, annoyingly untamable little curly-cues about two inches long. This morning, however, I saw them everywhere. They're sticking up all over my head, these new little strands. How much hair does a girl need on her head, exactly? And then after you have the baby, apparently, you lose it all in handfuls, so much so that it may induce a mild panic over balding. Yowza! I just can't wait. In the meantime, I'm fascinated to see how this additional set of strands is going to arrange itself atop my noggin.
Friday, March 23, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
It's like, what the hell, Ravu?! I know you were close in the immunity challenge this time, like really close, but close obviously yields no cigar. No skull on a pole to save your butts from going home. Did anyone else feel sorry for Anthony? J.Lo was on the fence about him, but I kind of did feel sorry for him. I would maybe hang out with Anthony in real life, in spite of, or probably because of, his self-proclaimed geekiness. I feel like Rocky, while interesting television, is a loose cannon, and tribally they would be wise to get rid of him sooner rather than later. And Lisi will be back from Exile Island next week, and clearly, for reasons of karma, will deserve to go home (when Ravu inevitably LOSES, AGAIN), so Rocky will be around longer, maybe even till merger. And that's just trouble. His speech to Anthony on speaking your mind, guy, granted contained several valid points, but it did also cross over many lines of rudeness and bad form, so sorry, I simply cannot abide.
And I'm totally on board Team Ravu, now that Alex is there. So guys, for the love of pete, get it together. Yeesh!
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
1. Projects Not Getting Done:): Decorate Jacket with screenprinting like designs. 4 Paintings. 2 necklaces. 1 Quilt. 1 photo project. 5 clothing repairs. Countless clothing creations. Artroom organization... i try not to think too much about how this working thing is interfering with my life...My creativity lies in the wake of this all consuming master. (I am getting better at cheating it by degrees, I guess.) Pshaw, I GUESS. Gah!
2. Lately I've been struck with the idea that I want to wake up and not want to kill myself, go back to sleep, or loathe the idea of waking up for work. It's like an instant bitter pill- and i try to shake it off but i can't seem to wake up early enough in order to feel i have some semblance of a morning. It's like I'm back in junior high and the word TORTURE regularly surfaces. Who wants to think that way about their morning. And I can't weirdly figure out when to go to sleep- 7, 8, 9...
3. I'm dry. I don't know what the hell it is but my bra feels itchy, my underwear... my lips. I feel like i'm withering. At work it's a sweltering 77degrees in my section. Everything is coated in dust. The bottle of lotion is running low. My clothes are residing on me with reluctance.
4. I've hit a wall in my organizational ferver. Like I've done enough- the idea that an element of chaos has to remain in any ordered system. To achieve a balance of both to be aesthetically pleasing. I wish i could see my day this way.
5. Tea. My friends have been into a very victorian thing like high tea. i'm breaking out the china and the linen and the crystal this sunday- and it feels good. sometimes formality feels good and luxurious. like sometimes eating off plates that aren't paper is a good idea. and going an extra step to make what you eat or how you eat and socialize a beautiful thing. it's inspiring me in other aspects of my life- how deeply yet, i don't know- but just enhances my belief that i deserve to be and dwell in beautiful things- not to be fancy or have airs but to simply admit that i find it fun, decadent and completely necessary.
Monday, March 19, 2007
1. I don't recycle as much. Cardboard boxes, yogurt containers, any other plastics or cans that require too much washing out, or whatever, go in the trash. Sometimes I'll have just taken down an armload of stuff from the kitchen to the laundry room where our bins are, and I really don't want to see the pile by the sink accumulate again. It's all so tedious, this cycle. And won't cardboard just disintegrate back to the earth, anyway? What's the difference if it's crammed in with all the other non-recyclables.
2. I am consuming hot dogs at an alarming rate. In the past 24 hours, beginning at 9PM yesterday evening, I have eaten 4. All have been sliced lengthwise, microwaved for 39 seconds, and then absolutely smothered in mustard and (essential) ketchup. It's like, if the ketchup wasn't there, I might cry. In fact, my last hot dog today tipped upside-down onto the plate after being condimented, and the mustard and the ketchup smeared all over, and I almost did cry.
4. I'm not good at reading anymore. (Except, as always, Harry Potter.) I can't focus. I really like the book I'm reading, The Jane Austen Book Club, but it's extremely slow-going, and it's mainly because I keep getting caught up in daydreams about all the other books I want to read, or should have already read. Oh, and if I feel Too Green, I won't even try to read. I just stare.
5. I get really mad when the news preempts regularly scheduled programming. Oh wait, that has nothing to do with pregnancy. All I can say is, I was really caught up in Suzanne Somers' story about her Malibu home burning to the ground today during Ellen, and I did not need to see W's little speech about the 4-year anniversary of the Iraq War. Something that, over the next few days, will be replayed a million times and analyzed to death on news programs, anyway. I feel very strongly that there should be corresponding stations you can flip to in such an event, where the show you were watching continues to play. These channels would also be available during major weather events. Anyone wish to join my letter-writing campaign?
Quite sure there will be more to come.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
the good thing was we actually saw 2 whales. but too bad it was early on in the voyage. we had 3 sightings i think of the same 2 whales- and 2 of the times one of them flipped his tail at us and dived. awesome. it's hard to realize i wasn't hallucinating. the first time was closer, about 20ft or less from the boat- and again i wasn't quite sure i wasn't imagining things. then it became a long long long wait- and more waiting, and more looking on to the vast stretch of water and being really really bored and trying not to get seasick and wondering when the hell we'd be turning around. or bemoaning the fact i didn't bring liquer with me. alas!
so then the captain got on his horn and told us there was a pod of 1,000 dolphins going at break neck speed somewhere and by god, he was going to try to catch them even though we were already running late- and off we took, water breaking over the bough and leaping up and down the swells- the dolphins which stretched for a mile before us- meer specks... got closer and we could see them breaching over the water, so many we couldn't count and almost breathless as we saw them appear closer to us, breaking
over the waves, and running under the bow of the ship... we cheered and leaned close into the water to see these amazing animals zooming in front of the bow and by our side, catching our wake as so many of them chopped up over the water. i almost cried. and wished we were in a boat that could catch them- and as they continued to cut fast to the left of us the captain said we were so late out we couldn't follow them any longer but that he was glad we got to see them. i think the chase was the best part and the dolphins, so many of them- glorious. the whales sure... if i actually did see them... and then i was pretty sure we had an hour to go and it was a long and sulky ride back- more dolphins! more whales!, we cried. but no. and so cold and hungry we were set to shore and feasted on some fresh halibut (they chinced us on the fries) and wended our weary way home, but not without a as i say, tai chi latte (i'm dyslexic) and a rice krispee square that smelled like coffee.
thanks guys. it was AMAZING.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
J.Lo, K.Lo, and I went to breakfast in the morning to Middle McDaniel, and though the hostess was disinterested and slack at best, the rest of the service was fine, and the food was pretty tasty. K.Lo, who has been improving her own way beyond the Squish Test, chowed down on ham and hash browns with no reservations. The day was rainy, but a kind of a peaceful rain, and a long overdue rain, so we kind of lazed about the rest of the day and did a whole lotta nothing. J.Lo vacuumed for me, eeeee! That right there? Present. I opened other presents, and among many fantastic treats received an iHome, which is currently rocking my entire kitchen experience. In addition to the ipod hookup, there's radio, weather, AND tv in there. So I can like, listen to Ellen while washing the dishes, it's just fabulous.
Received: 2 birthday phone calls from friends, one admirably from mendacious at 5:50 am PST. Love you, mendacious! And also, lovely birthday mail in the form of cards and presents.
Chinese take-out for dinner, mmmm. Caught up on Ugly Betty, Grey's, lamented the lack of Survivor. Watched half of 50 First Dates, and then, you know. Fell asleep circa 9:00 PM, but ah, what can you do. Hurrah for b-days!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Thursday, March 15, 2007
The Brat Pack collection, featuring
1. The Breakfast Club
2. Sixteen Candles
3. Weird Science
The Too Cool for School collection, featuring,
4. Ferris Bueller's Day Off
5. Pretty in Pink
6. Some Kind of Wonderful
As well as
7. Better Off Dead
8. Real Genius
9. French Kiss
10. While You Were Sleeping
12. You've Got Mail
13. Runaway Bride
14. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
15. KT Tunstall, Eye to the Telescope
I've been pretty free so far in the baby name discussion. I was open the first time around as well, to an extent. We didn't know whether it would be a boy or a girl, but K.Lo's name, first and middle, was pretty well established. Our boy name was less so, because at first we thought of Riley, and then somewhere along the line that fell apart (you do subject yourself, in revealing early, to Strong Opinions and Ridicule), and so we picked another and kept it under wraps until K.Lo was born. Then everyone knew who asked. If you ask now, I'll tell you.
This time around, the if-K.Lo-were-a-boy name was still in the running, quite near the top of the list, and one or two girl names were thrown around. One, in particular. Like all good writing ideas, though, it seems once you speak it out loud, it floats away from you in this little bubble and is claimed by the universe. Then one day the universe pops that bubble. If you say it, they will take it? Maybe the universe is laughing at you, who knows. Probably you won't figure that out in this lifetime.
Anyway, I feel all of sudden like I need to be a closed (i.e. bolted, combo-locked, drilled-shut, magically sealed) vault. And I don't mean to be overly dramatic or secretive or whatever about the name thing, because there's only so many names out there. And you can't own a name. And, really, first come, first serve. Whatevah. I'll come up with something better, and I do still believe in signs, i.e. reasons behind occurrences. I was meant to come up with something different than what I originally had in mind. For both the boy and the girl. Ironically enough.
Names are fun, and I love discussing them. I like going through the books and tossing ideas around. If I weren't so hormonal and maybe jaded at the moment, I might not be so irrational about keeping mum, from now on. It's just, despite the limits of originality, there's still something to coming up with a name for your baby. It's your own little stamp, a lifelong stamp that you get to put on another human being. And think about how much your name, no matter how relatively popular, shapes you. It's just so, I don't know, vexing, when after speaking it out loud, there it is, all of a sudden gone. Uncannily chosen by another, who may or may not have known. Anyway, keeping the cards a little closer to my chest from now on, I am. Maybe now instead of discussing it, revealing it early, there will be more fun in keeping it a surprise.
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
-running joke about sharks
-employee actually used the "what i can't hear you?!, what?!" click.
-books, perfectly straight, in a row upon row
-exercising during lunch
-reading during lunch while exercising
-leaving work an hour early
Monday, March 12, 2007
sooo apparently i'm not immune to the 'i could give a fuck' about the blogging thing.' good to know. (usually it manifests in surly and malaise driven posts but this time it was purely focused on tv and manual labor. thus silence.)
in my conversations with jesus 2 (you know me in the boat on the river 1) during this stilted 3+wk period i find my words to be bordering the sacreligious. i hit lake placid- i'm pretty well convinced- and it's driving me fucking nuts. my sentences to god are laced with a bitter breath, i know god's got this. i know god is faithful... and all sorts of encouraging things but every word might as well be this FUCKING SUCKS. I'M GOING TO BE FUCKING STUCK HERE FOR EVER. GET ME THE FUCK OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW. FUCK.
so i stopped praying to god bcs really laced with that sort of malice i was pretty sure the words were choking the air, and started to confess about what an ungrateful asshole i am (possibly human). mainly bcs after Epiphany celebrating the HolyDays is pretty cool... and the idea of Lent that intrigued me most was that some early christians did lent bcs they were preparing for baptism by sort of purging themselves of the 'bad'. and i'm so tired of myself right now that really a better newer me better be fucking coming along SOON.
- I do not think my hearts desires will be fulfilled (a husband, a sustaining career)
- I am inconstant (natural but true)
- I am ill-disciplined
- I am ill-tempered
- I am impatient
- I do not believe when I pray 4 things like Nicaragua, god cares, bcs I do not feel worthy of it. I feel guilty and demanding of it, of buying clothes, of eating out.
- I am complacent and lazy
- I am 'biting'
- I am resentful of not being in god's peace and power more (as i used to be)
- I am mired in procrastination
- I am not joyful
- I am a petulent 3 yr old
- I am lonely
- I am in distress
- I am a petty complainer
- I feel the seperation distinctly from me to the divine
- I think to not care much about life but I am most times divided and expectant
- I am full of grumbling
- I confess my heart is hard from waiting
- I confess it spills from my lips in sharp words uttered under the breath against people, against my community, it is hard to still the quick tempered surge within. it is hard to set my heart in labor for you, for abundance.
- I confess I am dissatisfied.
Then at church, of all places, I absentmindedly decided to read Lamentations, ignoring the loud singing around me, wryly amused at the timing...
... "I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall. I well remember them and my soul is downcast within me. Yet this I call to mind and therefore have hope: Because of the Lord's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.... The Lord is good to those whose hope is in him,... it is good to wait quietly... it is good for a man to bear the yoke while he is young. Let him sit alone in silence, for the Lord has laid it on him. Let him bury his face in the dust- there may yet be hope.... For men are not cast off by the Lord forever."
And my conclusion despite my totally irked inner life: Though I lament, I do not despair.
Sunday, March 11, 2007
The next time you want to have another baby, I want you to come back and read this very post. Maybe you'll get the 10-month itch like the last time around, where you were like, ooo, aren't babies cute! and think it's time to start trying again. Or maybe you'll be smarter and wait a few years. Either way, listen up:
Being pregnant=NOT FUN. Particularly Being Green? REALLY NOT FUN. What you are apparently remembering is the END RESULT, i.e. THE BABY, who yes, is in fact very cute and fantastic on so many levels. The fact that your labor wasn't the total stuff of nightmares does not in any way reflect the nine months leading up to it. Yes, it's super-cool when the baby begins to move. Yes, the idea of a new little person being created is "really neat." But please, for the love of all that is holy, do not fail to remember the following:
First Trimester=Land of Suckitude. Yes, you get to spread the news and say, woohoo! Yes, names are already floating around in your unsuspecting, selectively amnesiatic brain, as well as ways to reinvent the nursery. You're already, as a seasoned pro, making lists of what you really need this time, rather than what you think you really need. Great. Super. In the meantime, here comes Week 6. Then Week 7. Up to Week Yet to Be Determined. We're talking increasing nausea at all hours of the day. Nine o'clock bedtimes, giving you approximately 1/2-hour out of the whole day to yourself, most of which is spent fighting heavy eyelids.
Then you start to vomit, usually in the morning. The time when it is most painful, because there's nothing in your stomach to purge. It's like a hangover without the fun times preceding. And you know you need to eat and fill your stomach, but everything will sound absolutely disgusting. And then when you force yourself to pick something, it will be absolute torture to ingest. It may or may not take the edge off. In the meantime, you know you should drink water, but from the second you found out you were pregnant, water became instantly abhorrent! So in no time at all, you're going to feel dehydrated. Cracked lips and everything. Which is not only not good for you or the baby, but it also makes you feel more nauseated. It's a vicious freaking cycle, Future Penelope. DO NOT FORGET.
Along with Being Green, you absolutely also cannot forget your increased sensitivity to, oh, I don't know, everything? You're already a sensitive girl, and Future Penelope, you may think I'm exaggerating, that it's really not possible for you to become any more sensitive than you already are, but YOU WILL. Being Green coupled with any sort of perceived environmental shift like heat, cold, hungry, itchy, etc, makes those shifts seem insurmountable. You won't want to do whatever it takes to correct the situation for yourself, however small. You'll just want to curl up in an irritable little ball and wish the world away. EXCEPT THAT YOU'LL HAVE TWO, COUNT THEM TWO, CHILDREN DEMANDING YOUR ATTENTION. ONE WAS DIFFICULT ENOUGH.
One last thing, and remember, we're addressing just the First Trimester here. We won't even get into the heartburn, various organ pressures, sleeping issues, increasingly uncomfortable OB appointments (remember the gestational diabetes test??? drinking the sugared-out juice when you already felt like vomiting? FUN!!!!!!), wanting the baby out in the last few weeks, and then actually GETTING THE BABY OUT. We won't even go there right now. You need to know, at this crossroads moment, that you also become, as a person, seriously un-fun. Downer Penelope. A bane to yourself most of all, much less poor J.Lo. Because you're sick all the time, and not yourself anyway, and the whole physical world feels like an assault, and you kind of hate all your clothes, and you just don't know what you were thinking anyway--pretty much, you're a bitch. Which makes you annoyed with yourself and the situation (all self-created, mind) even more, which is yet another vicious cycle.
In conclusion, I'm warning you, Future Penelope. Don't do it to yourself. At least not with extraordinarily careful consideration and committment to the cause. YOUR BODY DOESN'T HANDLE IT WELL. Much less your mind.
Waving My Arms in Warning,
Penelope in many shades of green
*A note to the little baby inside: Mommy's current discomfort with life has nothing to do with you, sweetie. She doesn't regret one iota that you're on the way. She just desires desperately to take a little vacation from her body at the moment, and is a wee bit frustrated that it's all going so similarly the second time around. (Hey, does that mean you're a girl, too? Just wondering.) Love you!
Friday, March 9, 2007
It's Season 14 of Survivor, people. Have these players learned nothing from the past? Remember Marquesas, when the alliance of 4 led by Jon the nurse thought they had it all in the bag? They lazed around camp and laughed it up, thinking there was nothing that could stop them. Except, um, a revolt? People will defect out of your alliance, other tribe members will become wise, the producers, seeing that it's all too easy for one group, will throw a wrench in your grand plans. Inevitably. And for that reason--just because it's arrogantly stupid, the way they're acting--I feel Lisi and Stacy will get what they deserve. And seriously? Where do these ladies think they fall in the pecking order, even amongst their alliance of five. Tsk, tsk, can't even blame a lack of protein over at drenched-in-luxuries Moto for that lapse in judgment.
And yeah, I'm kinda glad to see Rita gone. Poor girl. She just talked about her dumb lip gloss too much.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
I used to be a Ravenclaw, but now, I am a Hufflepuff.
Not that there's anything wrong with that.
Wednesday, March 7, 2007
1. She doesn't make me do the eye-puff test. You know, the test where they check for glaucoma? It just doesn't work with me. I've wholly convinced my mind that tiny darts will launch directly into my eyeballs in place of air, I've psyched myself out for the next 50 visits at least, and it will just never happen. They don't even try with me anymore, and if they did, I wouldn't let 'em. Today, actually, I just looked at the machine and said, "Yeah, I don't do that." And I received no argument whatsoever.
2. She's very conversational and friendly, and in a down-to-earth way. She made just the right amount of fuss over the fact that I was pregnant and feeling ill for it. She took it in stride, but wasn't dismissive. She wasn't over-the-top excited, either. (I kinda hate that.)
3. Because I was feeling ill, she got me right the hell out of there. No dilation of the eyes, very few flippy-flippies of the lenses to check, double-check, and re-re-check which Rx I needed. She knew the prescrip, and didn't mess with it.
4. She thinks marijuana should be legalized, particularly for things like nausea. But then was quick to say, "Not that I would smoke if I were pregnant, my baby would come out high."
5. She is my number one cheerleader for someday getting Lasik surgery. I realize that she probably is for all her patients, but I still like hearing it anyway. I'm literally half-blind, so Lasik would be a really big deal for me. I'm thinking part of a tax return a few years from now? I can dream.
6. She told the guy over in the eyeglasses department to give me half off the price whatever I picked. This literally saved me almost $200.
7. She also told the same guy that I had full permission to run out of the building at any time I desired, due to Being Green.
I guess overall, my optometrist's bedside manner is on point. Is that the right context for that phrase? I think I just like to say on point. What I mean is, it's pretty perfect. Oh, and also, I can't wait to get my snazzy new eyeglasses, woohoo.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
No, not vomit. Because even though I vomited today, yesterday I did not vomit. I feel this may possibly be in part due to something that truly (even if temporarily) made me feel better: yogurt! Yogurt?! Indeed. Stonyfield Farm fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt, in strawberry and blueberry flavors, which is ever so much healthier for a prego than, say, Oreo Choco-Stix. Pretty much when you're feeling Green, you have to eat something, even if you don't want to. And since you're Green, and feeling sorry for yourself anyway, it follows that you absolutely should have what you're most craving. Pickles, chips and (mild) salsa, meatballs, macaroni and cheese. Yesterday I ate all of these, and then in the afternoon, to combat the 3 PM Being Green Wave, I chose yogurt. And it really seemed to do the trick, as it almost completely abolished the Being Green feeling for an hour or two--as opposed to partial abolishment, which is typically what happens with Being Green snackage. And then, later in the evening, I ate more yogurt, and almost felt... good. Like if I woke up the next day feeling that good, I might consider... working out.
Unfortunately, such was not the case. However, maybe with a little more help from Stonyfield Farm and COSTCO, I'll only Be a Pale Shade of Lime.
- Yogurt is very soothing to an upset stomach.
- I woke up cranky bcs i was in the middle of a dream. My thought: figures, i never, get to talk to her!!
- I'm really bored with being me right now.
- Though the shopping spree made me feel slightly better. Okay it was a guilty pleasure. Bcs um, I have debt to pay... shouldn't I look good doing it?? But then how am I getting to Oxford... but then aren't I not going to make it anyway?
- My lips are chapped.
- My shoulders are that thing of gibralter.
- I am underjobbed. Bored of saying that. Bored with all the feelings having to do with that.
- Need to shave.
- Make 2 Necklaces
- Read 10 books
- Stop being bored...
- Be less irritating.
- Do not watch sex-scenes with parents
- Keep up the course language
- Sleep the sleep of the dead.
Monday, March 5, 2007
Self-Imposed to Slave Wages.
Campo de Books.
But wasn't that all I could get.
3 Interviews down.
The Feel Fades.
For a Ray.
A warm light at dawn.
Spend the days reordering the world.
Heaps of trash,
Items off the list everyday.
And more tomorrow.
My world none too short of projects.
Keep them coming,
Though progresses slow.
Time follows tardy,
find a room of art no one sees,
And hope for a change.
Sunday, March 4, 2007
I should have known I would turn Green yesterday, as I was ravenous the whole day through. It was like Pen's Last Supper, or Last Lunch. And Second to Last Lunch, and Third to Last Lunch. Seriously, I had three lunches, as well as dinner, and quite a few cookies. Which, one might argue, may (should) have contributed to Being Green. But Being Green is
***Breaking K.Lo update: the Bug has learned to turn on the TV with the remote, and has chosen to watch Full House. Eeegad. She is currently bopping to the intro music. This can't be good.***
also marked by emptiness. Like your stomach is eating itself, and you should feed it so that it can eat the food instead, but absolutely nothing appeals. And then you feel like you should probably drink some water too, because water is good for you, but water is like, super-gross. So you do nothing, and try to just sleep, try to imagine that it's all fake and part of your overactive imagination. I wish it was. Maybe it is? More on this soon.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
What happened to Papa Smurf is not my big question. My big question has to do with that brief nature clip toward the end of the show. As is tradition on Survivor, various nature shots, many of which are to intended to add a level of foreshadowing to the plot, are spliced in every week. We see spiders lurking, crabs creeping, slithering snakes, and fish, lots of fish. Some are pretty astounding and/or gross, but none have ever caught my attention like the one this week:
A snake, I believe a sea snake, literally vomited up another snake. The snake was white, and seemingly just as big as the first. Now, I know snakes typically lay eggs, so... I also know, courtesy of google, that some snakes do give live births. But, through their mouths? The tribe is out on this one. Maybe the first snake ate the second, and decided he didn't like it? Maybe he got what he needed, perhaps vital nutrients from the second snake's color, and then let the not-so-little guy go? I'm at a loss here--please advise. Never have I found a Survivor nature image so arresting, disturbing and confounding. If only I had a picture to illustrate.
In other news, Rocky needs to watch his tantrums, as well as his cross-dressing. I'm dying to see, should Moto ever lose a challenge, if they will have to give up their luxiorious camp a la The Apprentice: LA. And more on Anthony, and what lurks beneath that introverted, wounded-as-a-kid surface? That would be great.
Friday, March 2, 2007
It was such a short time ago that I had K.Lo, the physicality of pregnancy feels very familiar. And yet... and yet. One very positive thing is that this go-around, I feel I know what to expect. I know that every pregnancy is different, just like every baby, but the basic facts of what will happen, what it will all feel like, are all stored in my Points of Reference. So in a lot of ways, I'm taking it all in stride, la-dee-da, hum-dee-ho, falling asleep on the couch at 9 every night and trying to eat a little healthier this time. I know what's going on.
But then, there are these moments. The wow, really? moments. Like, I did that once? I carried a baby to term and then got the thing out? I feel like I must have been so tough--how was it such a short time ago? I made it through all the blood tests and the unspeakable poking and prodding and the general day-to-day discomfort? Really? Beyond morning sickness, which was absolutely wretched and way too long the first time, I went through the achy waddling phase and the killer heartburn and the contractions and whatever else, too? And lived? I just... it seems slightly impossible to me, in these moments. The moments that are laced with uncertainty and panic.
But I guess... I'm doing it. There's not much turning back now, so.
I went to the doctor this morning, met with everyone's favorite nurse, Vapid J, who has such a pre-programmed list of things to say that I don't think she even really listens or can process her way through a question to give a unique and proper answer, should the situation call for it. Exercise helps you through the nausea, she says. That's my personal favorite. Oh, and the seabands, the fucking seabands for morning sickness. She says she likes them so much, but I'm like, what do you mean, you like them. Have you ever used them, and for morning sickness? I don't think so. I think she likes them because they sound quaint. My wrists had indents in them so deep two years ago from seabands, it made me want to vomit even more. I mean, if they work for you, great, fantastic. But I just want to sit down one day and tell Vapid J where she can stick her seabands--and I would too, if I thought it would make her blink.
Anyway, the second part of the visit involved a blood draw across the street in the new lab building, which I can already tell is going to be a joy to visit on a regular basis. I shouldn't complain, since it's still pretty close, I don't have to drive anywhere for results. And I probably won't have K.Lo with me most of the time, like I did today. The stairs are the first thing that frosted me, but maybe I was just in a bad mood from Vapid J. Then they must keep the place about 62 degrees cold. And then, okay--I know she didn't mean to do it, this lady from the lab. I know she probably draws blood at least 15 times a day perfectly, and I've had my blood drawn several times in life, but--WTF. WTF WTF WTF. When drawing the third vial out, that needle somehow shifted in my vein, and literally took my breath away. My bicep still, STILL, aches an hour and a half later. My arm is blotchy with these weird pale spots and my muscle feels like it's being squeezed and/or bruised. WTF!!!
See, I'm becoming a wuss. With a slight bit of rage. I think I need to get in touch with my complacent side again. I miss Complacent Pen. Maybe a nap would find her again.