hi from a late-hour

Here my brain is, rattling around. Wondering among too many other things where podcasts have been all my life. Answer: I never had patience for them, never really "got" them, could not wrap my brain around the auditory factor of them, but now all of a sudden. Introduce me to PopCultureHappyHour and I'm hooked in for life. So novel, the idea of ingesting brainfood into one's ears rather than solely one's eyes while reading, or eyes and ears both while watching a show. Imagine. I mean, people have only been listening to talk radio for decades now, but whatever... #latetotheparty

Also, my vehicle (whose official name is the Lo.Co.Motive, in case that's been not-yet-mentioned) is often empty of late, leaving me with full control of the iPod and more mental space to ponder the different things I pick up on every single day along the same route. Not new things, but new-to-me things. Like that old rail car next to a church, right next to their playground, maybe it's a playhouse, too? Neat. And the other church whose signs are definitely posted by someone different lately. Someone dumber. You know your signs are dumb and lacking inspiration when the Seventh-Day Adventist signs are connecting more with the crowd. Really. And spider webs spanning power lines, tons of them catching morning light. And let's not forget Nurse Carla Espinoza, still hanging out on the truck outside the scrubs-shop - What up, Nurse Carla! I say in my head. Every time.

And after a mere 1-2 weeks of school, we all have some dumb cold that's going around, already. Already! Unfair.

So today I'm simply drained, more so than the new-normal drained. I spent four hours today dragging some things back into my classroom and attempting not to spaz out at the sheer excess - there is just too. much. crap. There are things we have to have and things we can rotate out and things I've brought in, but for the most part - omg, begone with the ratty plastic ponies and the creepers oversized stuffed carnival prize. I literally dragged in the biggest box I had and assigned it the job of holding Things That Are Currently Making Me Hostile. Some might be allowed out of the box again, now or maybe later, or in the case of those ponies maybe never. It was the only way I could deal with the rest of the room. And tomorrow is going to make me feel simultaneously more and less crazy, because I will have some help arranging, cleaning, etc. So while my mind craves sorting through it all and mentally cataloging where everything needs to live in a solitary manner, I have to accept this help. Because it will never get done otherwise. And then the whole teamwork thing. Bah! I get it, I embrace it, but then. At a root level, I reject it entirely. And it's a mindful conversation that must continually take place, talking my misanthropic nature back from the ledge.

Finally I delved into Call the Midwife and um yes it's fabulous.

I'm sure I ought to write more but for now my aforementioned rattling brain calls for tylenol and a long sleep.
love to you across the land
oh and! I heard some commercial this morning saying that RDU offers nonstops to LAX now, 7 days a week. must investigate. because that's kind of a big deal, no? although probably costs a million dollars.

good morning,

It's cold. My hand(s)/arm(s) are still intermittently asleep. And sometimes my right foot toes? And this morning it occurred to me that I've been wearing the night arm brace thingy upside down for five days. Egad, penelope - brilliant! Not the only ridiculous mistake I"ve made this week however. Am fighting the urge to close the porch door and turn on the heat already. Not that I'm really complaining, because this is spring! I'm glad we haven't jumped with both feet straight into summer. I need time, transition.

Five or six library books are inexplicably overdue - why am I not getting timely notices of impending doom? Although it wasn't just me, with the blog-service shutdown. Their Facebook page is in an uproar, bloggers lamenting and railing over the thoughtless approach to disbandment. Like when Picnic shut down? They sent warning emails for six months. I wanted to pull my hair out by the end of - I KNOW. I GET IT. YOU'RE SHUTTING DOWN. But at least they gave ample warning. As they should!

Anyway, the blog about the children has been transferred. To the second choice platform, WP, but whatever. I've wasted enough time with tech hoops and other obstacles, and am sticking to it.

Right now I'm watching the ProRun season finale. Stanley sewing models into outfits like a madman. Whaaaat happened, Stanley. And why is Michelle's runway music on barbiturates. Although I love her collection. Aw, Patricia - dedicating the collection to trees. I like it. Maybe they're truffula trees, but that's all right?

But I'm ready for the next season already.

Puppy's spay-surgery is tomorrow. I'm hoping for a quiet weekend. Is it too much to ask? Three super-busy weekends in a row and I'm ready to crash. Not that said weekends weren't filled with goodness. Much goodness with friends, family and friends again. And finally seeing Duke Gardens, which is lovely! Clearly even more charming this time of year with unobnoxious temperatures and full flora. And pondering, if you could go there all the time, what would be "your spot." In the endless nooks and crannies. By the water? Next to stones? On a quiet bench or in the zen-ish garden. Maybe in a surreptitious pocket of woods, like the old man with a book.

Omg, Jewel is going to be in a Lifetime movie...what is happening.

Also, the heavy cloud/ton of bricks has descended. Oh hormones, how I loathe thee. That's all I can say about that right now.

Tell me what's going on in your world, m! And send poor Bruckner a postcard already. Via owl post if you must. They found Harry in the cupboard under the stairs, surely they can find Bruckner on the gravel road past the giant blue cactus across from the honey badger statue, or whatever that insane address was.
lovetoyou!

and but so

I feel like there are multiple facets of knowing a person, maybe the chronos and kairos of a person, if you will. So even if you’re not completely, vigilantly up on the chronos, or day-to-day (which completely DOES have value, and I love fiercely that you’ve always demanded these details), there is also the kairos. the essence of a person that you know, in spite of those daily shiftings and emergings. and despite all chronos you’ll immediately recognize the kairos after however long apart.

You are MY shiny object. Other than you not being an object and the fact that I don’t really own you. Not really. But you know what I mean. Mine! Shiny! If I were the type to ever talk AT someone until their face fell off, you’d surely be the subject. And that means something, yo.

I feel like I’d struggle but ultimately would hold off on the slaying of words since she IS leaving soon and why leave sour. Her chronos is annoying the shit out of you, but I know her kairos held something.

Yay for the foreign curmudgeons! Like Viktor on ProRun, who I kind of love. Also, accents add something, like the curmudgeonliness is all the more appealing in its delivery. I adore the “things keep getting stranger” comment. And your student scenes, even if it feels like they’re being all unnoteworthy.

You’ve asked me before what I see for the end of your term-sentence, and I do see that obviously you’ll be home after the year, but for the return? I see a changed locale. Even if it’s mainland, but maybe it would be another country in SEA…

Am so sleepy today, could have slept even longer than the 8 or 9 hours I fell into magically last night. I feel slightly cold-ish, like maybe I picked up errant germs at the store or the consignment sale or something. Because no one else has brought it home to me. Book club was a delight as usual, with just three of this time and we spent maybe half and hour mentioning the book almost as an aside. Maybe because we all liked it. And there were no official discussion questions. And we were discussing other things, like children and schools and loose teeth (K.Lo has FOUR allatonce) our geeky pasts (presents?) and oh maybe some church politics. And the dynamic between the women who have been there all their lives and those of us who have chosen to be there, now. Mainly how they don’t talk to us and what is that all about. Is it their financial status or the fact of their comfort zone or maybe they’re just a-holes...? Just pondering out loud. Clearly there hasn’t been a need to expand their worlds beyond what they know. And it’s interesting – of course I’m completely projecting – that it ultimately ends up seeming the difference between having a static faith and a dynamic one. Actively seeking vs. sitting still and being perfectly fine with what is. never stretching beyond. I don’t think I’ve ever in my whole life fallen into static. Like it’s not even in my dna.

More chronos: shutter painting is happening soon. (shutters: black; door: teal.) Ice maker/water dispenser FIXED because of a penelope produced solution, after more than a year and a half I’m just saying. Point, penelope. Gloating, penelope… Potluck dinner at friends’ house tonight (same locale as bookclub), which frankly I’m hoping doesn’t last that long, although I realize I’m baiting Condescending Wonka to mock me and my pretend cold and my wearying introvert. And I want to upload some photo addendums. But then my phone isn’t saving them like it’s supposed to. Which is vexing. But I’ll see if I can figure that out.

love to YOU

penelope

P.S. the literal “fall” in the backyard, the gumball or acorn demonstration of gravity on the metal roof has evolved into a game of Kerplunk, louder, more echoey and insistent as imaginary sticks are removed. someone’s about to lose! anyway j.lo’s going to investigate this weekend what exactly it is that’s falling from the tree (and why this year but not last?). my money at this point’s on marbles.

Dear Bruckner,

I have suspended the husband search- as it's true being at the end of week one- only 1 of 3-5. I could be enveloped in this meloddrama for a month more. I mean, you know you're life has taken a turn when you think, i can't wait till blisters stop erupting from my skin and dreading the unholy after effects and pleading for everything to scab over quickly as that will be at least be cool and interesting opposed to sensing some alien presence breeding on your back, waiting for the ooze and trying to explain to friends exactly what fiberglass in the skin feels like as pulses of haywire nerves make you whince like you've just been hit by a stray dart. But nevermind.

You mentioned in your letter you had thought due to the number of ailments someone else had taken over my blog moniker. Being self-analytical and neurotic are not good combos for when one becomes sick is all i'm saying. I do not handle it well. I do not have what you would call fortitude, especially if I feel whatever brought upon me is undeserved or over the top. But this year- only 4 months in was quite a doosey? doozy? i don't know. But 1. the cold that over took my camping trip in january 2. the wretching nightmare that almost made me miss chicago 3. my dog died in march 4. the death cold of april has lead straight into the 5. plague of may. not to be outdone by anal fissures sometime between 4 and 5. All of it heralded by a malaise lasting clear in from Novemberish and reaching a bad pitch in through early spring? Well what to do. One should make a story of peppercini seeds landing in your eye- as novelists it would be symbolic for life and some ironic twist that makes you see yes, the absurd, the random pain of life, take that. But the novel is becoming literal. They'd say, that's too much. Or I'd say, I'm going to make a comedy out of it. I may get there. I may make it to the frown upside down-- if i were writing.

One will just have to wait and see. But I take your point Bruckner. It's writing in the minuitia opposed to pulling out and developing an arc. A true arc of suffering or of comedic prat falls which say something, which tell you something. It's not just throwing stones in a pit or watching someone bail water from a sinking skooner 50ft from shore. My god my character has got to learn something. There has to be some-Thing behind all of this. Something funny and a bit pathetic in the character hunched over on a wooden box with a bag of frozen corn to her back.

Don't pay attention to her self-pitying demonstrance and her pleas for attention. It won't work. It simply won't work. This girl has a pie in the face coming or she's going over the waterfall in a barrel. She just wants to make sure someone's watching. Just give her a glance out of the corner of your eye and look the other way. That'll be enough.

m-

pennyhaven,

love, i will take a better picture of the old man for there he is. you mistake his smile for his bulbous nose, and further below his lips are mostly hidden by a great flowing beard and jutting moustache. and the gnarled tree is a magical stand out from the garden of the worlds- its actually a very vigorous wysteria vine and they seem to tolerate it misplacing the lamp. to me it seems wizened and ancient and obviously it talks. so...

next up- buddhists. i don't know. i was like, why are buddhists drinking starbucks. it seemed odd. i suppose they have every right but i don't know. it was like an exotic bird wandering into the street.

what else... oh yes, camping shmamping. i don't even remember it happening. but i'll try to recap it for you.

it all started out on a tuesday, or was it monday? danica and i went into the hills of los feliz. and lo' there was a burning in my lungs i could not place. there was a dim haze over the land and yet, it shouldn't have impaired so readily. it was not smog. allergies perhaps? the next day i went walking around silverlake resevoir with martel, feeling now the onset of rasp and snarf. i valiantly traversed with gingerpill, zicam, hearthealth emergen-c to no avail. it seemed improbable that in a matter of a day i would be camping but i was in denial of the collision of events.

by friday alas i woke up weary, tried to rally and seemed more prepared to go then my mom except she was busy packing all the food. my downfall was to not bring any dayquil or drugging apparrel and of course not insisting we come fully firewood stocked... but the way i packed the car seemed to indicate space...issues. well anyway nevermind. so i make it as far as in'out and we go to wendys instead and then i make mom drive which is always a bad sign. i seemed clear to nod off toward ventura and though there was a tension headache spreading from the base of my skull and radiating up into the flesh of my head i persisted with no drugs once we got there too tired to stop anywhere, and just laid on the beach with the sun warming me and i in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. knowing it was getting worse but only able to complain about the stops to trader joes seemed too much and that getting wood seemed arduous. having got one bundle already and no more--- we set to put up the tent only to find all the cords had rotted and snapped. i threatened to make a scene and set fire to the tent for warmth and the chill on me was descending made me feel cold even in my -35 down jacket. meanwhile the nextdoor campers in their RV's which i loathe, because on clipped the generator and on clicked the porch light- casting us in an ugly pallor against a lamp that would not work despite batteries and a meager fire which is worse than nothing-- all set to trollope me. their ugg boots and chipper talk, their continual drawing from a giant bin of firewood while we sat as death warmed over me and the drip in my nasals and my raw throat drew nigh. i fell to sleep by 9 and merciful grace the lights went off and so did the generator.

mom would want me to obsess over the racoons that stole over all our stuff, but they were unsuccessful thieves and unwitnessed. i did like the little groundsquirrils who almost made off with moms nuts and chewed the iceplants- their chief hunters the ugg boot wearing girls from next door who saw no qualms of wandering into our camp and throwing rocks down the holes of the poor rodents with no thought to squashing, maiming or in general being brats. mom finally did yell at them. then finally of course i got breakfast, i got drugs, friends came up. ellie who wins the prize brought up gluten free bread and made us paninis over the now well stocked fire. thank the God(s).

because after searching hi/low/roundabout to the locals one guy in vons started us off on this quest that there was a guy who had cheap firewood somewhere around these parts. we were determined but i had no strength. mom happened to ask the janitors and they said oh yes, the firewood guy, well he's kind of crazy but you cant miss down the road yonder with a sign past the church down the alley way. he'll be there. and mom came back like a saint with stacks of wood and not too poor in pocket. all hail firewood guy!

meanwhile maryann and kerry whom i love for coming, seemed out of their depth, tired and mostly cranky- i felt bad because i had no verve to delight them to the good qualities of camping. i think i left them unconvinced. they left toward dinner which left ellie, myself and mom to enjoy soup, wine, carne asada, corn, and quinoa salad by ourselves next to the blaze. and the campers on the otherside of us lent us a mag light. camping life i will note... you are the observed. you are the observer. a great amount of critique and assessment goes into each camper at your boarder- will they survive, are they stupid, incompentent, have they been before, what sort of decisions are they making, what is their life like- such a microscope. but anyway, this is all moot because i was never there- i didn't see the sun rise, or the rain come shortly after 8am on a sunday morning and the murders of crows crossing the sky or the various birds bathing. or the lack of seaweed mom had promised more, or the breeze and now wet sticking sand, or the delicious jalepeno/cilantro/feta scramble i enjoyed as i hung my head and squeezed my aching eyes, fingering the orange pills on my lap.

i did not wash it all down with a frapachino and promises to pay mom back for the outlet shirts and underwear i bought or the in/out fries... or the week it took to unpack or the dismal check i got from edd- making certain of my deadweight burdened and financially tapped self. but anyhow where ever i was it was somewhere and the place i imagined was glorious, with the soft sounds of trains in the distance, the jutting mountains at my back and the pounding ocean to my west. mom assured me it was a good time. i will have to trust her judgment.

m.

Morning,

So the cold has progressed from the head to the chest, per natures instructions. I have a bottle of cough syrup on my desk, some tylenol cold/sinus, some chapstick and scratchy tissues at the ready. I can't say my head is completely clear but there are some coherent thoughts there buzzing around. I almost died yesterday around 2 when all this work i had done became irrelavant and so i left at 3. How does one remain zen in the office? when one just wants to curl up under the desk and sleep... Also my officemates can hear everything. Those cubicle walls are thin. Every sneeze, squeeky chair swing... though my AP i think is constantly listening to music. So that's good. But still. Snarf. Hack. (que sounds of gasping and gurgling)

ANyway i've managed to bore myself with even that contemplation. Its a a good thing I can type with my eyes closed. The only other thing worrying at me is the idea they're secretly judging me for being sick and for leaving early or showing up at 10 everyday. I do tend to aim for 930 but still. Oh and the fact that about 1/2 the time, when i sneeze, on any given day and particularly when sick, I sometimes get shooting tingling pain, numbness and weakness thru my arms to my hands. I've done some research and it may indicate a compressed nerve. Which is super to secretly or not so secretly think that my neck will one day be the death of me. I mean i've always known the chiros have never completely fixed those top 2 bones called axis and atlas... but then more research revealed that its perhaps the troublesome C6. Who's to say? Who's to say? Either way it would be appropriate to say neck problems abound. I guess I never felt like delving into the issue too deeply. It would've been nice to do so when i had insurance is all i'm saying. All this discovery and interest in such things like this and allergies would be better served in another world and in another time. I suppose i should just go and insure myself... hmm.

And What if i didn't have the internet? I just don't know.
Besides that this whole hotmail vs. gmail thing has left me in a sea of who knows.

i've got to go. This has been sitting here for like 3 hours. I'm getting iced tea... and lunch. I promise nothing onthe matter of coherent thought but that hopefully i'll be better soon. It's never good to think much when one feels this way anyway. Like mental note: panic about the following (at a later time): job, insurance, death, writing, art projects. Just don't lose my narrative thread. Perhaps its not other peoples narrative threads i've lost. It's currently myown...

Am so proud of your awesome sculpey. It seems magical and unknown to me and all this fixit surge of energy. The blue was heinous in all ofitsbluewrongness. ANd i'm totally ignoring what you said about jessica fletcher... though it occurs to me it does plague her an awful lot.

Looking fwd to prorun, health, more emails from you, and rain.
m.

Pent Up,

There was a mid morning crisis about which thermometer to believe, and after a facebook poll I went with my gut and chose manual. It was quite a discrepancy. Made me lose my faith in technology, just a little bit. 98.3-99.3. Ultimately I prefer to believe I have a fever. And a pansy low-grade one at that, which seems to have no end. Day 7. Don't tell but I went to Trader Joes anyway. To my credit I anti-bacterialed my hands and didn't touch my face or sneeze or cough the entire time, and only handled what I was buying. Then I splurged and went to walgreens and got my mom and i $5fake pashima scarves. They're pretty fantastic. (will enclose pics later). Along with some burts, and face astringent...

Right now she's packing to go raise the morale of the Minnesota contingent, Dawns mom dying and all. As an HR girl she attends a lot of funerals (and she'll be there for Darlene's on Monday). At her company somebody's somebody is always dying, stricken, or insert strange and possibly disturbing disorder, condition, or tick. She tries not to tell me about them all but sometimes she can't help herself. It's her gifting to send out condolences and sympathy in true mom fashion without any hints of irony or inauthenticity, not even a drop of cynicism or ambivilance toward grief and death... she's very supportive and actually sincere. I cannot say that I am this way. Which is why for many other reasons besides I never visit my brother and have more family in friends then i do elsewhere. But let that go,

My current debate after such a truly exuberant day of Trader Joes and s3/d5 of 24, which by the way, they just shot ryan chapelle. And I think we're going to break up. I mean, it just went a little too far didn't it? Jerking us around with the ever present question of greater good vs. the single individual. Which is more important? And if morals should be compromised for the sake of that greater good- obviously yes. And yet Jack did sincerely seem to ask, God forgive me, as he shot him in the back of the head. He seemed to sense, even after the heroin addiction and everything else, that even he, as a character, had gone too far afield. I hate shows that are cruel to their characters. That's why I stopped watching Lost... but never mind- back to the debate- what I'm reading next, I have a collection of shortstories by Flannery, Eatprayand something, or memoirs of a geisha. Whats your gut instinct on this one?

Yesterday ok, I confess, still feverish, I went to the starbucks by the airport and asked the barista btw chaitealatte or mochalatte. He was very adament about the mocha, he said, because he hated the chai- so he was biased he said, but I said i wanted decisiveness. Thats what mattered. I mean anyone looking at me shouldve guessed I was sick. I mean its like, nothing would induce me to change out of my jammie pants. I did put on a nice sweater, but the clash, along with the socks and flipflops combo should've been a telloff to anyone. I felt very urban sitting there with the latte and my tempura from sansai-- a little bit rogue and not quite me. Due to the fever probably.

But anyway, otherwise- I can feel the energy bubbling underneath and ready to get going. Though pulling a dead bush out of the ground yesterday winded me considerably. I also finished Brideshead, Autumn had her baby and Joanna returned from NY but refuses to tell me about it. And you as I write this have wintered in the mountains and are crafting at your BF's. The world is always right and never all at the same time.

Postehaste,
M.

Dear Penelope,

I had this completely heinous soup tonight. It was called vegetable beef soup- Granted it was the last can of soup on the shelf but still. I'm going to have to make sure we stock up on acceptable, when you're sick soup, for later. Unfortunately the soup was 3rd in line of really horrible food choices. The first being these usually tasty cactus/corn tostadas that i mistakenly put pepperjack cheese and chili verde on, followed by the soup where most everything was inedible, then some sausage potato thing, a salad and then a canned peach. I wont even discuss lunch and breakfast. I know. I think this mild fever is totally killing any sort of good choices I might be making in my life right now. Though I do tend to alternate between hot tea and popsicles. And I feel like i've gained back whatever weight i've ever lost, and that my muscle mass is wasting away and there's this horrible bump on face and refuses apprehend/sion. Sickness puts sloth in a real whole new light. As in what the difference between quiet, between gluttonous, between taking a moment and being busy in a different way. Makes me feel I have been filling my time and not in bad ways, maybe not in the best ways and not everyday but there is a thin line of difference.

It's blissfully raining right now. Earlier I was going to take pictures of this one bush in our yard that shows signs of a typical fall into winter. Yellow leaves. Scattered about the yard. Little king sparrows raking the grass for bits to eat. I saw one pick up a leaf, held it high and aloft, and turn around in a circle with it. He did it twice. I didn't understand the dance, but wondered if my poet self could ever transcribe the feeling of his pirouette. I gave up and though i told myself it was worth it to set down all such moments- I don't know if I will. I should. There's a definite loss there in all the recorded moments even if they never make it into print. But I didn't take the picture or write the poem and I went back to reading Brideshead Revisited instead. So far I really don't see what the big deal is. Also I really hate alcoholics... though I know my mercy for them should in some way expand. But it doesn't.

Anyway, I still have a fevor. Yes mispelled. But its essentially like fervor... fever. I don't know. But that's where the mind goes. And my eyes are heavy and I'm debating stay up another hour and languish or sleep... last night I dreamed about a zombie invasion. There are benefits sometimes to abstaining from sleep aids. ;)

m.

Penolin,

I haven't had chicken soup. I'm totally robbed. I could find some ... ach, the effort of that sentence alone. It's too much. I mean if its not in that can with the flip lid then forget it. I have some sort of flu-ish thing also. Still have an elevated temp of some kind and achy joints. And today I feel I have just enough energy to feel bad about not being productive. Though I felt bad yesterday, I didn't care. But then what have I been doing these last weeks. I can't say. I think there were some books read and such. Lots of tv. Granted. I did actually scale down my netflix subscription to 1 at a time. I realized I had that power. Just now. About an hour ago. I also had a banana and an orange.

next.

So, the plague was because the people were being all rabble rousers. Which I love that the translation of the word actually exists in the bible. ⁴ The rabble with them began to crave other food, and again the Israelites started wailing and said, "If only we had meat to eat! ⁵ We remember the fish we ate in Egypt at no cost—also the cucumbers, melons, leeks, onions and garlic. ⁶ But now we have lost our appetite; we never see anything but this manna!"

next.

¹⁸ "Tell the people: 'Consecrate yourselves in preparation for tomorrow, when you will eat meat. The LORD heard you when you wailed, "If only we had meat to eat! We were better off in Egypt!" Now the LORD will give you meat, and you will eat it. ¹⁹ You will not eat it for just one day, or two days, or five, ten or twenty days, ²⁰ but for a whole month—until it comes out of your nostrils and you loathe it—because you have rejected the LORD, who is among you, and have wailed before him, saying, "Why did we ever leave Egypt?" ' "

skip to the end.

³¹ Now a wind went out from the LORD and drove quail in from the sea. It brought them down all around the camp to about three feet above the ground, as far as a day's walk in any direction. ³² All that day and night and all the next day the people went out and gathered quail. No one gathered less than ten homers. Then they spread them out all around the camp. ³³ But while the meat was still between their teeth and before it could be consumed, the anger of the LORD burned against the people, and he struck them with a severe plague. ³⁴ Therefore the place was named Kibroth Hattaavah, because there they buried the people who had craved other food.

Now I used to read OT stuff with the words, aw man that's HARSH, alot. And now, there's, i think, only one OT story that makes me bummed out, was when one specifically assigned dude was told not to touch the ark of the covenant while he was carrying it, and the load started to tumble and he reached out and touched it and was struck dead. I'm always like, yikes. Because you know, good intentions and all that, and "its natural" but an important lesson on enabling people right? Sometimes you have to let stuff fall and that God is God and its going to be ok, because you're not and if he gave you a command you should totally follow it even if the consequence looks disasterous to you, and couldn't he have gotten a warning card instead. But then it sounds like he had a complete lack of faith, and that he felt he needed to right what God couldnt? Anyway. There's more there but lets get back to the quail.

These rabble apparently were also I think, non-israelites, aka pagans, but more imporantly they were just stirring up shit and reeking havoc on peace and invading peoples discipline and patience with God by bringing trouble and dissent- and naturally they just complained, there weren't any direct appeals to God. Just a whole bunch of bitter herbs. Keep in mind the manna supernaturally appeared every night and God routinely appeared via clouds and light or some such. I think what was most funny to me was the divine justice aspect of it all and that God was so there and present but it didnt matter- when we want things like lets say netflix and then suddenly we have so much netflix we're ignoring everything else and we're gagging on it because we have so much of it. Maybe it's like a basic cable analogy vs. a premium package cable analogy. I can't decide. But either way Kahle and I snickered and sort of laughed like, oh, the Lord, he's awesome. Dramatic flare and all that. Sure people died but taken in a larger context those people probably sucked, and were sucking the life out of everyone around them- like toxic mold or asbestos. And Moses was in turn beseeching the Lord and God was like, problem solved.

Until they start complaining again.
Its a pretty fantastic love story. But at least God is trying to work it out with them. I don't think he's an indiscriminate smitter.... and the quail would've been a delicacy... too much of a good thing and all that. Oh netflix, why. why. why.

Penultament,

i am totally sick. i don't know if i was infectious yesterday. i suspiciously felt that tickle in the back of my throat... and i did take my temp when i got home and it was below normal like it always is, like, 97.4 or some such. this morning it was 99. who gave this to me?! thats what i want to know. now its 98.6. maybe i'll be back to normal by tomorrow. good thing i've got xfiles5 to watch. and brideshead to read. and essays to work on. its like any other day really except for no exercise.

i tried to hand over myyout*be account to my long lost soul mate keith. i don't think its going to work. i may just have to cancel my account and he can quick sign up. plus i'm sick and i'm thinking, am i really seeing clearly into the problem- bcs i can't change the acct email i signed up with. so i think i'd have to cancel it. which makes me question keiths sanity for suggesting it, anyway and why i'd want to trust him and then i think, well he's the bastard who took my gmail log in anyway. but whatever. and he's the one who is all 'inconvenienced'. whatevs! i did tell him i would though.

also its raining here. last night in the biblestudy group i went to they actually wanted me to pray it wouldn't rain saturday and sunday because of this movie shoot they were doing. and i in all seriousness was like, uh, we're in a severe drought. think about what you're asking. just because some egotistical director is shooting a musical and needs a crane for the last shot of the movie. and it has to be outside. you want me to actually petition to God that it not rain? we agreed that maybe if the rain could just pass over those two days but continue raining all the other days it would be fine. in reality it may just rain one more day even if it forecasts a whole week of rain, because lets be honest we're in LA and we just don't get that much rain. which baffles me why anyone would pray that it wouldn't rain here for their own shortsighted ends. but then i think, back in gradeschool when i'd pray for blizzards, earthquakes and general mayhem to befall us so classes would be canceled. besides some occasional rain, and that fairly serious riot we had back in '94, God rarely answered. so i'm glad at least he has some discriminating criteria, and won't hold it against me too much now that i'm older. though this guy kahle and i totally started laughing at the same time when we were talking about this passage in the old testament where all these people got wiped out by a plague. no one else thought it was funny. .. but thats for another discussion.

anyway all this typing and pondering has worn me out. and i've got to figure out whats for lunch and save some energy credits for possible working of essays out and what not. certainly not now but maybe like hours from now.

m.

Ok Fine, Whatever, What about Me, by M

As I blamed my lack of enthusiasm about the way the election went on my hovering cold, since it's going to do whatever it's going to do, and so fine I voted but, no I didn't stay up all night watching election coverage about the coming of the anti-c-, I mean democratic messiah, because you know, i'm fighting off a cold. "Oh," says the woman who was up till 1am, reveling in the forth coming soci- erhm- revolution.

Last night I was slumped over in a bar, feeling overfed on steamed vegetables and a naughty but delicious grilled chicken sandwich when the election coverage began to get to me. I then fled under duress to the nearest Coffee Bean, where my cousin continued to text his ex- about her being a racist whore. I said, if you don't stop I'm going to leave you and shop at Ross. Even though I knew that Ross sucked in comparison to the one I went to yesterday. And still I sort of regret that I didn't leave him and go see if there was ANYTHING?! i could buy. I was RIGHT THERE.

He continued to talk about how 70% of women are shallow and like to date assholes. And the beautiful ones, forget it. I said, women aren't like that. To which he said, you're an exception. Which I was vaguely, basically latently offended. Because obviously being fat and a Christian who has moral values, rules me out of any basic commentary on what women want and what a man has to do to get them. And the reason I'm single is because I'm fat and not putting myself out there. Because to him, since he is awesomely attractive, compassionate and moderately successful, he should be able to date any woman he wants. And why is it so hard. I referred him to the Southpark Episode entitled: "The List"... though I don't know if he realized it was mainly an inditement on him... or part of him, and what he wants.

While I vomited into my cup of Earl Grey and he texted his ex about who brought up what first, I continued to stare at Ross. Eventually I said, I have to go to bed, which included taking 2 benedryl and trying not to freak out about anything. Because though we ended up talking about hot chicks, obama, the subtle flavors of beer, his drug addict parents, and money, it really all came down to everything I believe and everything he doesn't. Which left me thinking I just want to sew my dress and make it perfect for Saturday and God, why can't he just get it. Which left me sitting here today drawing sketches about trimming bull horns and alligators attacking other alligators. And maybe going to get a latte.. like right after i post this.



For further reading on what i really wanted to repeat over and over and over about my depressed passively suicidal cousin:

here's the thing about people who are depressed, which you are, and i understand that. You are consumed with yourself. Understandably but it is at times vain and narcissistic to continually be dissatisfied with your condition and state with so much other shit going on in the world. And I know you know this, as you say. I've been there so I get it. But it's a decision that you have to make that the things you do in life, how you treat yourself, how you treat others, matters, even in the small ways. And bottom line, from a Christian perspective: Your life is not yours to give or to take. And control rests with Christ, not with you. And you have to decide to give it over to him or not. He is either bigger than you, and your life is his to do what he pleases with or he is small and worthless and not to be trusted. But I'm telling you i feel the reward in acknowledging him author of my life over EVERYTHING, and there is JOY to be had there, not just fleeting happiness. and there is worth in you! WORTH. actually. you are here for a reason. and you are VALUABLE. and necessary.

being even, passively suicidial at times, you can continue on that road of disconnection, severing ties, feeding the lying monster... or you can say wait, why am i believing it? why? just because you're not where you want to be? and its ok to acknowledge and admit why you're angry, why you think it sucks, why being alone for you right now is not ok, but you need to start the work of actually loving yourself despite anything else. And understanding God loves you more than you can fathom even loving yourself or anyone.

A lot of our problems, perhaps yours, lies in a deep seated need for control- control of circumstance, of life, of other people, and we spend/waste so much of our time trying to do that- it causes anger, frustration, jealousy... when we can't get what we want, right now- we continually look at the world as failing us, friends failing us, and then eventually we are failing us. We dismiss the journey, the story we have here and now even when it sucks. Also there is no one here on earth that can fix you. I firmly believe that. Nor is there anyone on earth who can complete you in the way you need to be completed. Friends, Family, a lover, girlfriend, whatever, wife--- can't ever be enough either. Because its in our nature to be fallible and at times equally self-consumed. And those demons of darkness will grasp you through all the travails of life. What you're looking for is an immediate fix that you think will fill the gap, instead of struggling with and overcoming your internal issues- over control, over not feeling loved, of not meeting the world's idea of success, and that there is deeper meaning to be had in life when taken with humility and a fuckload of hard work...

We've had this discussion, this same exact one before. I can get together and hang with you but we can't talk about this. And i'll tell you why. Not only have we discussed this before but we're philosophically different. Totally opposed. I think your pride and ego and your inability to seek help and look at things differently is causing this- but you don't. You as well as us, keep going in circles every time this issue comes up. How long are you going to continue to hold onto your beliefs in this regard, have them fail you then be unwilling to see it any other way? What are you doing differently that's going to come up with a different answer? That rules out a therapist? and why?

You're depressed, so a lot of what I say is going to be lost in your tenacious need to be right- because you're looking for anything to validate your claims that this is how the world is. And your obsessed over the failures of the past, and over relationships- which you think should be easy to get because everyone else has one? And i'm telling you none of that is usually true and then you're just going to tell me why I'm wrong. I think bottom line you want to view your life as a failure, and you want to be unloved and you're unwilling to do anything about it because in some way it feeds you and gives you what you want. And you're going to tell me from an idiotic world and society view why i'm wrong to tell you that life isn't about that.

The thing about faith, and i understand that you're not a christian, which is why i prefaced it by saying "from a christian perspective"... it has nothing to do with wishing to god and hoping that poof your life will magically change on a rainbow of good luck. it's literally about submitting yourself in humility over life, which you don't have control of. And you are completely wrong about it not being about control. You are a control freak, and you're in total denial about it. The reason you regret your past, regret your circumstance, is becuase you regret you can no longer control the outcome, as if at the time you could anyway. Granted life is about choice, but your chosing right now, to dwell in the misfortune of your past, and further you're making a choice to say that i'm just stuck that way, that's how i'm built.... and if you don't think you can change, make different choices, then what am i going to say to help you? I can't. You have to be willing to look at life differently- not from a materialistic standpoint, not from a success standpoint. You are chosing a vain path and it is leading you to your destruction.

He took it all in good stride... but of course he replied, why shouldn't a man have pride and ego and success and money and a wife and a house and kids and the good life... and not struggle or have hardship because you know... it's like so easy. And so the snake bites the tail.

M: I have

a cold. I don't know where the self hate besieged me, but there it is in all its head swelling, watery -eyed, sniffing ways. I boldly though, I must blame my cold, write from work. With nothing to report to you besides my tardy blogwriting and that I've watched too many movies and drank too much diet coke this weekend. That is the crux of it. I made a new todo list which includes sewing, not avoiding my trainer at 24f (complimentary 4 sessions), thinking about things to print for my portfolio, but who has the time to complete these things... I'm going to SanDiego this weekend in search of a tall ship. And all my other time is taken up reading Clarissa. Which for one of the first novels! So much to think about. And scandalous. Oh also I'm thinking of terming any movie where you know- how you wish it should, would, could end but then you think the people would never have the balls to shoot it that way and they do- Mist-tastic or Misticle, or Mistifying. Cuz have any of you seen the MIST or? the Brave One...because um, seriously! Anyway, THAT IS ALL.

Blog better soon,
M~

today

i have a head cold. designated sinus pressured. gum aching. long hours of sleep and little pink benedryl pills. kind of thing. fogged concentration. things not quite done. listless. head stretched to the side. grasped water bottle. wandering blur eyed spaces. but refund in and bills paid. more lists made, a gleam of future progressing debt decreasing. no potatos. nicknames. nicaragua. and the summer months. art stuff. things pending. garden growing. and blissful job. days elongating like clockwork as pages flip, a careless calendar.