ditto: used
in accounts and lists to indicate that an item is repeated (often
indicated by quote marks under the word or figure to be repeated); used to indicate that something already said is applicable a second time; a word that Nick taught me how to spell
Brilliant!
I'd wish you happy holidays, but first, I have an unyielding inquisition. here's the question-- if Xmas lights are so beautiful and sparkly, and provide so much cheer, why don't we keep them up all year? Fuck, that even rhymed. It's an omen, or a sign, or something equally as forthcoming.
Anyway, onward in true tradition. You all know how much I love this video/song, so here it is again. Sigh. It never gets old.
I'll spare you this year and won't rant about materialism and how the holiday themed media that I subject myself to is limited, at best. (Christmas is not a valid excuse for inadequacy and compromising quality, people.) Instead, I'll let you enjoy your holiday. Oh joy!
update 1/3/11- so Mollie got me derby socks and Sparking Apple Cider (the fancy multi Northwest Apple Blend), isn't Mollie the greatest! I drank the entire bottle out of this obnoxious beer glass my step-dad has with ducks and waterfowl on it. Reminded me of wearing camo and sitting in a blind for four plus hours of si...lence... I really do like hunting though. Despite the killing and bloody corps you have to haul away if you are so lucky, it really is very serince and peaceful. Speaking of dad, I just got a card in the mail from him today. It was a thank you card stating how much he appreciated my gift to him. I found a first edition (second printing) copy of Errnest Hemminway's Form Whom the Bells Toll for Hyde Park Books here in Boise. I'm glad he loves it.
hill of beans: according to urabandictionary.com, this term is U.S. Marine jargon comparative for something worthless
You know what, sometimes you break your ankle and lose the very love of your life and realize you hate your job and where you live, and then BAM! your dearest friend Nick comes to visit and reminds you that depression sucks balls, but life amounts to more than just a hill of beans. So I dedicate this song to Nick.
Our time together was too short, as always, but I'll always remmember how we we ate delicious co-op sandwiches and hung out with Anthony. They cooked noodles, I ate them, they played pool, I got frustrated (I really susper suck at pool and am a poor sport about it), they argued, I didn't help. Ha! And of course, there was this...
fun with lighter fluid, burning anarchy! Not illegal, no, nope. Perfectly safe.
Not really sure what's going on here, something to do with watching Nacho Libre, maybe.
Anyway, so this was really the cherry on top, I also got a new job and am cleared to skate come Feb, and found a new place to live! So, suck it depression. Check and mate. I win this round.
cabin fever: irritability, listlessness, and similar symptoms resulting from long confinement or isolation indoors during the winter
I was bored at work so Will (our IT guy, ex Marine) and I scrambled our names. I came up with "no ham, get quail" from my name.
I seriously couldn't think of a "qu" word
other than quail. Will's was "moon rain swill n.i.b."
I asked him if I could start calling him "Moon" for short.
He didn't resist. Jealous.
I also wrote some poems and listened to a fuck ton of Wye Oak. Winter songs!
Sadist
I wish I had a sheet big enough to block out the sun
Fucking quit calling me hun*
Same song seven times
Buried beneath piercing blue chimes
Boiling belly
Sugar sugar sugar sweet
Withhold your judgment
Cracked golden popcorn
Contaminated toxin
Handful of candy
Colors patch the clouds
Neon green and acid orange
Blood red rain rains drown
Blood red rain runs down
Hey, wait, deepest dark
Let us complain together
Light blinded bright eyes
Pick apart the pieces that persistently permeate
Forever
Final request, fatal foe
Don’t blow through many hoes
Filthy figment of my imagination
Please, stop
Stop, please
Word Games
fuzzy butter flys by
pass me the dish
full of winter star
rowe a boat and we'll begin again
this content is from Merge Records, perhaps one of the greatest record labels to ever exist on this sweet earth.
Eeyore: a character in the Winnie-the-Pooh books, created by A. A.
Milne; generally characterized as a greyish-blue, gloomy,
depressed, anthropomorphic, old stuffed donkey
I went over to help eat the food Alby cooked and watch her put shiny things on their Xmas tree. I wasn't much help. Actually, in my defense I have a broken ankle and I did string on some beads!
We also watched the following movie...well I can't find a version to embed, so you can see The Help trailer here.
It was a fantastic reminder that, in retrospect, I have nothing to complain about. If I ever again speak of suffering, I need only to remember that there are those who have been deeper in the depths of pain than I. One thing is certain, the more you suffer the more resilient you become. My life has been worse than some but a whole heck of a lot better than others. My mom lent me the book, I'm reading it now.
p.s. I apologize for my masochistic and my self-loathing and my sadist vanity. Sometimes I relate most to Eeyore.
p.s. my roommate just came home with another guy (another toothbrush, that's how I can tell for certain). I've stopped trying to call them by the correct name. Anyway. This reminds me, I've been meaning to complain IN GENERAL, AT LARGE, TO EVERY GIRL WHO HAS EVER GIVEN ME THAT EVIL LOOK. I've been meaning to complain that it's not my fault that all your boyfriends hit on me, it's not my fault that your husband never told me he was married until I met you, it's not my fucking fault that your fiance said he loves me in the wrong sort of way, it's not my fault that my ex is now your ex and for some ridiculous reason you are angry at ME...it's not my fucking fault. No wonder the one person I've ever loved is a moron who gives genuine attention like a cold, heartless rock.
normalcy: being within certain limits that define the range of normal functioning, President Harding's 1920's presidential campaign slogan
Houser, one of the girls I skate with, was sharing a story about both her personal and professional experience with VA psychologists. She, like me, was once in a relationship with an Iraq veteran. She also happens to be a licensed therapist. And well, apart from "reminiscing" about how crazy we felt in those relationships, she also confirmed my suspicions... some VA psychologists' idea of therapy is "pushy" at best. They define for the vet what is "normative behavior," and then they push them into that box, sometimes the pushing occurs even when the vet is ill suited or not ready for such normalcy. Take for example, a month ago T told me that he is in a new relationship. We've discussed, at length, about how he actively fights against being in any sort of relationship on a daily basis. When I asked him why then, all he had to offer was, "because I want to feel normal." If you don't genuinely want or desire to partake in normative behaviors, than why do them, why strive for them? And more importantly if you cannot fully and wholeheartedly engage in normative behaviors, aren't you cheating yourself and others involved? Seems silly to me.
I've struggled with this myself. The subjective and highly self-sustaining idea of norms, normalcy, normative behaviors, normal, etc. are not easily understood, at least not by my brain. I am not normal, others remind me of this daily, and actually, I have come to enjoy actively working against norms. That;s not to say I'm a deviant or some subversive. I'm an individual rather. In my own observations, many "individuals" lack the courage they need to be unabashedly themselves. They instead, compromise themselves and their life experiences in order to fulfill society's definition of "normal."
Fuck being normal. If I have to compromise my identity, my intuition, my love, my emotion, my anything, well then, that norm ought not to be followed. I suppose this starting to leans towards anarchy. But optimistically, without norms, society as we know it would change radically for the better, or so postulates my theory. If everyone adhered to the "you can swing your fist so long as it doesn't hit my nose" philosophy, I'd like to think that we'd have a happier healthier, more "zen" like existence.
Okay, this is turning into a run away thought. I digress. Back to normalcy and how being yourself above everything else is admirable! I got my brother-in-law a children's book for Christmas in the How do Dinosaurs...? series. It's a collection of books that basically socializes children and introduces them to the very identity stripping normative behaviors that I complained about earlier. I gave him this book as a reminder of a conversation we once had. The conversation was about his struggle to find the courage to be an individual, even if that individuality doesn't fit conventional norms. My brother-in-law is also an Iraq vet and he too has transitioned out of an organization where individuality and non-normative behavior are not valued. The transition has been difficult and I am glad that he has crazy me and my crazy sister here to remind him that non-normal is where it's at! Look, I'm no President Harding, but folks, don't compromise yourself just because society tells you to. Live with courage and intention; be an individual.
love: an incurable disease, or maybe an innate trait that manifests in unusual forms
Actively, I am trying not to fall in love ever again. Never again. The only way I can "return to normalcy" is to pretend you (there have been few) have met your death, your ultimate demise, vanished from this earth. The other remedy is to simply recognize that I have a disease. "Watch out cupid struck me with a sickness, pull out your little arrows and let me live my life." I wish I had written those words.
Love is sickness. Anyone have the virus?
Music video by Saves the Day performing Deranged & Desperate. (C) 2011 Razor & Tie Direct, LLC
Official Music Video for "Sick Muse", from the album FANTASIES 2009 Metric Productions http://www.ilovemetric.com video by Justin Broadbent and Michael Leach (HotDogGarbage) http://hotdoggarbage.com
Come to think of it, I just might have the cure, I just may. Materialism and destruction (posts to come on these topics). Bubble wrap and a shiny new dress, big sunglasses, loud music. There's comfort is destroying things, there's comfort is movement. DANCE. DANCE. DANCE.
Update 1/3/12- So today was the perfect day to listen to Dawes; sunny and cold, lots of work to do.
Remember I don't own this content, it's from "North Hills" by Dawes (2009)
Anyway, this song, specifically the lyric "you might be loves reminder, but love is all I am" got me ah-thinking. What if "love" is an innate trait that comes in varying degrees of intensity and some people have so much of it that it fills their entire being, where as others cannot feel it at all? That would explain a lot. It sure make coping with loses easier. What if everyone I have ever loved, their memory binding to my skin like super glue, painful to rip apart, are simply reminder of this trait that I have called love? I sure like that idea. It means that I have some control, no that's the wrong word, some ownership of where my love manifests, but I can still accept that "love is not convenient, it does not cease at your command."
Those are my thoughts! I have many more, mostly about materialism and destruction, but I will save those for another post.
adroit: clever or skillful in using the hands or mind
Competent, that was the theme of my Wednesday. I installed a washing machine and changed the dryer duct, which I got free just for being cute and curling my hair this morning. The delivery gave me his number too. Thank you genetics and thank you curling iron, even though you're half broken, both of you. I also made croutons, gluten free croutons at that. And I was craving chocolate ice cream, but the freezer was devoid of chocolate ice cream. Tragic. But alas, I found some coco powder, added it in and wha lah! There is something so gratifying about making or fixing things with your own hands.
This remind me of by far the best find in all the Treasure Valley Area. My new friend Ryan took me to this place called the Reuseum. They do a more eloquent job of explaining themselves than I can, so just make the jump over to their website. As added incentive, I promise you robots!
I used to be a remarkable baker, and then I developed a wheat allergy :(
SUUCK.
A bunch of pretty jars now sit perched in my pantry shelf. They're filled with all sorts of powdery goodness, rice flour, teff, coconut flour, starches, tapioca, sorghum flour. Early on in my battle to re-learn how to bake, I tried using Bob's Red Mill all-purpose gluten free flour, but it tastes like beans. Uck.
Now, cometh the dawn of a great challenge. A fight for decent Christmas cookies.
I'm not sure when I'll find the time but, soon, I vow to bake the following cookies. And they will be delicious, or else.
I should back off on the threats. Too much of my writing has been angry lately. Heck, I will challenge all things to a duel to the death. I will conquer everything, cookies, people, society. I will crumble them all into a million tiny pieces. Delicious, wheat-free pieces.
and the grand finale! A trailer park ginger bread house
I will take pictures as proof. Pinky promise.
Update 1/3/11-
I didn't make them all. I got lazy. Well no, frankly, I got frustrated. Baking used to so easy. It's challenging now. The things I did end up baking turned out bomb though!
GF Dark Chocolate Brownies with Peppermint Chocolate Creme Ganache
Rocky Road Fudge with homemade marshmallows, cashews, fair trade dark chocolate, and coconut
Drunk Alby and Just-Woke-Up Alby are surprisingly similar people.
"Do you want to go Chrrrrristmas shopping?" I knew it. I had called too early in the morning. Damn. She was talking in that silly voice again, "Do you want to go Chrrrristmas shopping dear sister? I just ate an entire bag of biscotee. Do YOU want to go Christmas shopping with me, your beautiful sister?" Fine. Fine. I will go Christmas shopping. Stop asking. Grumble grumble. I am only do this to avoid the bobbery that would ensue, like being punched in the boob.
The rest of the day was spent receiving absurd looks from other customers and cashiers. Apparently, we talk about not so normal things in the checkout line. My favorite was, "I'm like 20% lesbian already, so I might as well work on it." "Makes sense to me." Nervous chuckle from our cashier. We also texted Mom a cascade of random photos of random things in random places; a taste of her own medicine. She secretly loved it though. And if I hear the words, "What should I get so-and-so" or "What do you want for Christmas" one more time...
fire, death, destruction. All will be black. Quit asking me for Pete's sake!
Here, here, here you go, these are my favorite things, these are things I need:
Costco-sized bag of Gold Star Jasmine Rice
Boise Opera Tickets/Seattle Ballet Tickets, if you really love me you'd get me a season pass :)
Wax skate laces from derbysupply.net (better yet, a healed ankle, you can fix broken bones magically, right?)
Miscellaneous kitchen things that are M.I.A. (pastry cutter, basting brush, cast iron pan, tupper wear/lunch box that Gill stole from me/I keep forgetting to get from him, knife set, don't even ask me how I lost an entire knife set)
New blow dryer, curling iron (both died on me, in a tragic accident)
When in doubt, anything with sparkles, a pin-up on it, smells like lavender/ginger, or was made 50 years ago, headphones too. I can always use headphones and socks! I go through these the most in life. Well that and crappy boyfriends.
Actually, this is kind of fun. I also like big pearl earrings, ice cream, root beer, ice cream and root beer together, I believe they call that a "float," those sea monkey pets we used to get when I was little, Eddie Vedder's hand in marriage, Bonnebell cherry lip gloss, green apple gum, Lion brand yarn, purple inked pens from Paper<3<3Mate
Scratch everything, if you can't do the following, don't even bother with a gift
just kidding. Sort of. I would be content making cookies in your company.
I have even put some serious thought into what I will be attempting to bake. see subsequent post to come.
All said and done, I accomplished most of my shopping. There are stickers involved. Lots of stickers. You have been warned.
abdicate: (of a monarch) renounce one's throne; release responsibility or duty
I quite my job today! Two weeks notice submitted, new job at the Idaho State Archives as a Research Assistant and Territorial Project Archivist secured. I wouldn't exactly call my old position a monarch, nor did I have a thrown (sad huh?), but I am indeed abdicating my duties as Technical Records Specialist. Never again will I do a job that requires 10 hours of sitting at a desk, staring at a computer screen. As happy as I am to make this change in my life, I do want to thank my coworkers and boss, I learned a lot from that position and from them. It's simply that that job was tearing me down, eating at my soul. Not sure how someone could do ten years there! Well, at least I managed to squeeze in some fun. Like the time our HR lady said that my small picture of Betty Grable (a super mild pin-up from the 40's) was offensive and against office policy, so I printed out ten or so stickers of her and stuck them under all the cabinets, filing drawers, desks, and conference tables. Sneaky me. Or like the time our network and internet went down and no one could do any work for nearly half a day, so I played with my camera phone...
et voila: French for 'there you have it," "there it is"
I am famous! Ha. Hardly. You can, however, find my face on the Treasure Valley Roller Girls website. That's almost like be a celebrity, right? Same difference.
