Recs?

I have no idea what to read next. Give me recommendations, my lovelies.

Interpretations, anyone?

So as good as yesterday was, last night's dreams were horrendous.

As I was drifting off to sleep I had one of those in-between-good-sleep-and-awake dreams. I dreamed a man in a black hoodie was standing over my bed. A menacing man indeed. I jerked (literally) awake and stared into the darkness before I flopped back down into the horizontal position and shivered like a mofo.

Second dream wasn't any better. In this dream there were two men who were sending letters to my mother and me threatening to kill us both on a certain night. Not sure why they were telling us ahead of time, but no one took it seriously. My mother didn't, the police didn't. I stayed awake, huddled in a corner, with a weapon, ready to pounce. But I woke up before I had the chance to die.

Blah.

Let's hope tonight's dreams are full of puppies and pretty shiny things.

Watching: House....the "Autopsy" episode...*sniffle*...so sad.

Edit: 12:20 and I can't sleep. Bugger bugger bugger! Had planned to get up early, but at this rate it might not happen. Medicinal assistance would be good right now, but it's too late for all that. I'd be all draggy in the morning. Shit.

Son of edit: Ugg. Vomit. (I didn't...it's just a saying.)

Listening: "Pieces"...Rascal Flatts

Yadda + yadda = this post

The crazy fuckers at the Johnny Utah Symposium have done it again. Just click here and cackle with me, kids.

The universe conspired to give me a really good day today. Woke up around 9, lounged around for a bit, hit up the best grocery store around 10:30 and bought tasty foods (hummus, artichokes for stuffing and baking, and the makins of kalamata meatballs, among other things). An unusually large number of strangers said hi and winked at me today. My boob wasn't hangin' out or anything, so it must've been a good hair day. Read The Wizard of Oz, so I don't have to worry about that for class this week. Have pretty much mind-written my piece on memory for Estella's Revenge. The meatballs came to tasty fruition with some couscous and a veggie saute. Texas weather is pretty damn nice at 10pm. I even drove around after my run with the top open and the windows down listening to fun music (vintage Alanis anyone?). And the real topper? STEVE CARRELL hosting Saturday Night Live (baby daddy)!!!

I think I'll watch For Love of the Game as I fall asleep. Because everyone knows Kevin Costner is the best actor ever. *urp*

Watching: SNL
Listening: "Tennessee"...The Wreckers

Mmm.

Oh. My. God.

From this point forward I have issues with vodka.

My head is going to hate me today.

*ache*

Listening: "DOA"...Foo Fighters

Hmm...and the latest report on newt/meerkat relations (aka, the Puny Wars)

So, I fell asleep at work today. I should probably impress upon you, gentle readers, the danger of falling asleep in your workplace when you work with two boys. I distinctly remember thinking, as I nodded off, "You must wake up before Jeremy and Charles come down for break."
I had no intention of sleeping for one hour and 8 minutes, but sometimes the Sandman has bigger plans than expected.

However, luckily for me, I did in fact wake up about 3 minutes before they came down for break. I was spared all manner of vile things they could've put in my sleeping mouth, and was only subject to a bit of mild torture regarding the red spot on my head that I acquired in the leaning process (was curled up in a chair).

Sorry for calling you guys "little bitches." I would never do that under normal circumstances.

*fingers firmly crossed*

**********************************

The latest report from the Associated Press is a grim tale of woe and bloodshed. Secret newt forces--the evil Uncle Tumnus and his cohort in crime, Captain Paragraph--infiltrated a meerkat camp and after a senseless slaughtering, the two henchmen bathed in the blood of the innocents. The meerkat community is still reeling but healing.


Two meerkats holding each other after the attack.

Newt forces appear to have posted their human minions just outside the meerkat camp in an effort to contain the meerkat legions and achieve stardom with a reality show on the National Geographic network.

Sadly, Uncle Petemoss is still missing.

Any new information will be promptly reported here or on your local Meerkat News Network.

Listening: "Baba O'Riley"...The Who

My day in 30 seconds or less.....

1. Got up at 6:15 to go for a run. Ankles hate me. Doing it again tomorrow.
2. Asswhippery
3. AMAZING mediterranean dinner at Fadi's
4. Drove aimlessly
5. *blurg*

9:30 and going to bed. $20 says I'll actually sleep.

Coded statement of the day: Suppression paves the road to happiness.

Listening: "Way Back Home"...The Wreckers

Battle Royal

Matted fur and a nightstick will put my meerkat heads and tails above Charles' pansy ass newt and his poisonous secretions. Mark my word. Say hello to Orlando...the meerkat furthest to the right.



Uncle Petemoss here will be playing the dramatic battle music.

My first true love....

Mostly done between 1999 and 2001, these are some of the pieces I concocted when I was an art student. For as long as I can remember I've read books and drawn/painted. When I was in high school I was dead set on this professor of literature thing. Until my art teacher took an interest in my work and pushed me to develop my skills. He afforded me the opportunity to attend the Art Institute of Chicago, and like a fucking moron I didn't snatch up the chance. Perhaps it was for the best in the end. Even though I'm here (and here is pretty unappealing sometimes) I know that writing and scholarship are my strengths. But art is still a big part of what I love. I contend that there's no better feeling than getting lost in one's own head. And paint. Or charcoal. Or pen/ink.

What brought on the gush of art love, you ask? I keep walking past the leather portfolio (which lives in my garage) that holds these, and I finally decided to take digital pics of them (because it's never a bad idea). I haven't looked at them in years, and it was a nice walk down memory lane.

Click the pics to see a larger version if there's one available.

This painting has been hanging over my bed since 2001'ish. This was the result of 4 hours on my back porch and a serious hard-on for Jackson Pollock.


Won an art show in Dallas with this one. Pastel (chalk). A still-life that I got really sick of, but that came somewhat alive in pastel.


They tortured us endlessly with skulls. This one is red conte crayon, charcoal, and coffee wash. Coffee wash = coffee sloshed on paper.


More skulls. A bone detail from another drawing.


A flower that caused me to miss a Valentine's Day out with D. I was devoted, what can I say?



Pen/ink. I fucking love pen and ink.

Straight from my sketchbook.

Wha?

Search terms bringing people here today:

"meerkat t-shirts"...and I say, "Cheers you you, fellow meerkat lover!"

"scared the shizzle"....and I say, "Heh?"

"tall women and short men porn"....and I say, "Ummm, I prefer the other way around. Not sure how Google got ya here."

I'm sleepy, babies. Off to horizontal land I go.

Edit: 9:32...you knew I wouldn't really already be in bed. Come on! *celebration jig* for finding my Me and My Gang Rascal Flatts CD after 1.5 months of missing the boys. Also found in my car:

One red Satan wig.
One installment of Stanford's Great Expectations serialization from a couple of years ago. I wonder if Estella appeared in this issue? Must flip.
A human finger.

Let the uncomfortable silence begin....because sarcasm is more fun than honesty.

I miss your hair, you miss my eyes

And all this solitude

Is my confidence eroding

So we slide inside of

Someone’s mouth and someone’s eyes

Until there’s a sound

Of something intimate exploding

But it's all inside of you

It’s all inside of you

I wish that i was anesthetized

And sterilized and then

We wouldn’t have this evidence congealing

Surprise surprise,

Another pair of lips and eyes

And that is the consequence

Of actually feeling

It was all inside of you

Not mine, but I offer a cookie for anyone who knows what song it is. Elise? And I'm not quite that maudlin tonight, but I am pissed off that I can't sleep. I've been tossing and turning and thinking, which does no one any good. I wish it was tomorrow so I'd be up and dressed and sitting in the WC with my laptop working. Because as it is I feel like I should just lie down and sleep. I feel iffy. I knew that chicken was bad news (not the Brunch Club chicken). I wish I knew how to play the guitar. I should put forth the effort to paint again. Or just fucking sketch. I should send something off for publication soon. I went to my grandparents' grave tonight. I don't hate you. I just think you're weak. Things should change. It's time.

A poem for the ages...

I can't believe I said I can't write poetry.....

This is a semiautobiographical diatribe in four stanzas and a tinkle.

************************

I appreciated your calves,
But now I think you're gay.
Don't put your diva-man hand up in my face
Just turn and walk away.

No sex in 312 months
(You, not me, I say).
I should've known right from the start,
You're motherfuckin' gay.

There's nothing wrong with that, you see
Nothing wrong at all.
But when it means a dry spell for me
It affects not one, but all.

So skip through flowers,
Tow the line,
Push some brown,
That's fine.
But I'll be boinking your best friend
Until the end of time.

(Or next week.)

What day is it?

Drinking with professors is always a weird sort of experience. I find myself in a constant state of "whadisay?" the next day when my head's clear (except for the ache) and my stomach is already in knots. Although, I suppose when they're just as shitfaced as the students it really doesn't matter what I said. And on with the day we go!

Surprisingly, after a night of debauchery, I find myself in the mood to do work. Oddly enough, while I should feel like ass, this is the first time I've felt like working in several weeks. I need to write up a couple of responses for Thesis Director, get ready to teach Charlie and the Chocolate Factory this week, and write up some of the directions I might want to pursue on the thesis so we can start laying down deadlines for comps and proposal defense, etc. Good times.

Listening: "She Is"...The Fray

Edit: After three hours of napping, some paper writing, and music listening, I ate dinner. *urp* Downloading Massive Attack songs from Mezzanine and "Leave the Pieces" by The Wreckers.

One bit, two bit, don't really give a shit.

The face of sloth.

Randomativity....

I love fairy tales because I think it's funny that people read their kids stories that were originally about incest and death. And so many of them think Disney started it all.

Music that makes my heart feel like it's quivering is the good kind.

Stupid people should be dropped from planes to feed third world countries.

The best Onion headline at the moment: "Heroic Computer Dies to Save World from Master's Thesis." As long as my computer doesn't follow along it's funny.

I'm re-reading Transformations (Anne Sexton) for the umpteenth time. Because late night angst and Sexton go hand in hand.

Snippet from "Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs" *sorry for the spaces...Blogger's being a coont.

No matter what life you lead

the virgin is a lovely number:

cheeks as fragile as cigarette paper,

arms and legs made of Limoges,

lips like Vin Du Rhone,

rolling her china-blue doll eyes

open and shut.

Open to say,

Good Day Mama,

and shut for the thrust

of the unicorn.

She is unsoiled.

She is as white as a bonefish.

Listening: "Teardrop"...Massive Attack

Swing away!

There's been an outbreak of burglaries in my neighborhood lately--or "burgles" as I like to call them to add some humor to the somewhat intimidating possibility of an intruder. I live in a nice, low-key neighborhood with a relatively ridiculous property value. Burgles are not welcome here. The guy down the street had his house broken into while he was on vacation, and when he returned--before he had time to get his bedroom window repaired--the fuckers came back while he was home sleeping. He pulled out his rifle and took aim, but they ran away. Likely with a brownish stain gracing their assular regions. Then another house on the b-lock had something stolen from outside, etc.

As a result, we've made sure to turn on the motion detectors in our backyard as well as the 10,000 lights on our front porch every night. And we have the 3-dog security system also known as the Yapper 3000.

This little situation has also prompted me to seriously evaluate whether or not I could kill someone.

I was faced with this same question, in a much more serious way, several years ago. When I was living in North Carolina (alone) I rented a house (ok, trailer) on a culdesac, across the street from a cop. As you can well imagine, renting across the street from a cop made this single gal on her own feel significantly better about the hood. That is, until I met the cop's grandson--cokehead fucknut asshole. His real name was Chris. Chris was hopped up on a number of illegal substances and took a liking to this sassy then-blond. In fact, he came over high as a kite one night and offered Sherrie and I lapdances (scary thought if you could only see this guy and pretty fucking hilarious otherwise). That was right before he asked me, with bated breath, if I was a virgin. As the newly devirginized, I would've normally responded with an enthusiastic NO I'M NOT! But the creepy factor was a tad high for gloating right then. This incident scared the shizzle out of me, but I was able to get the fuck out of the place for a few nights, and I returned with the expectation that he would not remember this incident and would leave me the fuck alone. Especially after the then-boyfriend came and stalked around in broad daylight to make his presence known and pee on the porch posts, mark his territory, yadda yadda.

However, I was wrong (not the first thing I was wrong about in NC). Chris returned the night I came home. He pounded on the door at close to 10pm as I was innocently preparing for bed. And pounded. And pounded. Until I yelled, "I'M BUSY. Go AWAY." I promptly peeked out the blinds to see his skanky ass stalking around the back of the culdesac property (toward my back yard and back door which had no curtains over it, because they don't make curtains for back doors of trailers).

I fully expected for the druggy asswipe to come barrelling through my back door, so I promptly turned out all the lights, grabbed a glow in the dark flashlight, and secured the perimeter. I stalked through my house in utter darkness, flashlight at the ready, heart beating 90-to-nothing, adrenaline oozing out of every pore. And in that moment I knew I'd kill him (or die trying) if he came into my house. I actually found myself wishing I had a special weapon in my possession. My cousin built a beautiful solid maple baseball bat in high school shop class. It was polished to an impeccable shine and would've looked great right then with cokehead fucknut asshole's grey matter all over it.

I'm not a violent person by any means. I am however very territorial and have an explosive temper when I'm livid, and being scared to within an inch of my life REALLY pisses me off.

Moral of the story: don't break into my house. And if you hear that I made the front page of the paper, you were ahead of the news this time.

Listening: "My Old Friend"...John Hiatt

Heathen Brunch Club #1

While today was my first time attending the Heathen Brunch Club, Charles and Jake have actually practiced this delightful gathering for the last couple of weeks. Lil E, Beth, and I all played our parts in the debauchery today, and I have to say, it was a damn good time. In approximately 10 hours the 6 of us consumed 10 bottles of champagne (roughly) in the form of mimosas as well as a case of beer. And I had my flask of rum. No alcohol poisoning to report, and Tessa remains unspoiled (Charles's dog). In addition to a treat for the liver, it was also a celebration for the palate. We ate smoked salmon, cucumber salad, and a tomato/basil/onion concoction for actual brunch, while Jake whipped out some bacon-wrapped chicken stuffed with basil, tomato, and cheese for dinner. Next week: wings.

I think I'll get horizontal and let the alcohol play ping-pong with my colon. At least I didn't eat a habanero pepper like two others I know. Blessings on your respective morning deuces.

Listening: "Good is Good"...Sheryl Crow

Edit: 12:12am and I can't sleep. I'm listening to music and it's not helping. I even tried reading the Derrida book and I'm finding binaries and undecidables ridiculously fascinating (not that binaries are anything new, but I hadn't really heard of undecidables even though we're in the business of undecidables).

Conversion in the evening....

It's official....I'm a full-fledged Rogues fan. They were amazing. AMAZING! If anyone is anywhere near a place where they play...ever...go. Seriously, you have to. Even if you think bagpipes and drums aren't your bag, swallow your disbelief and fucking go.

MacHenry's may also be my new favorite bar, which means surpassing Scruffy's in Waco (maker of my favorite shot, the Catholic Schoolgirl). That says a lot kids. Everything was really casual and fun. The place was full but not painfully packed, they had Cherry Cheesecake shots on special (cranberry juice and vanilla schnapps...very mild), and I was downing Woodchuck cider like there was no tomorrow. It could've been the longest sustained bagpipe-n-cider induced buzz in the history of the world. We whooped and hollered and played a potato (GP and Brad did anyway) and chatted with the band members between sets (they played 3).

I can also report that I felt a full-on, four-alarm attraction for one of the bagpipe guys. A full-on, four-alarm attraction to a stranger rarely happens to me. I'm sort of a ditz when it comes to attraction...I don't really register it until I've known someone for a ridiculously long time and then it all hits me in a rush. But no. Full-on FOUR ALARM hotness in the pub last night kids. 6'7", red hair, scruffy, bagpipes, kilt, lived in a yurt for a bit, Masters of Religion from Yale. And married (as GP reminded me on several occasions). And a sweet guy. Very nice.

Why the FUCK haven't I found a 6'7" Yale-grad bagpipe player? At least now I know it's a possibility and I can keep an eye out.

Excellent night! They'll be back in November, and Andi will be in the front row celebrating having her thesis proposal/defense and comps done. And playing a potato.

New horizons.....

I will be doing something I've never done tonight.....going to MacHenry's pub in Ft. Worth to see The Rogues. Gypsy Poet, Wenchie, and I will be rockin' out to bagpipes all night, y'all. Now what the hell to wear? I have nary a bit of plaid in my wardrobe. I was just reading the bios on the guys and one went to Carnegie Mellon and one got a Master's at Yale. Holy shit. *bows down to the braininess* AND they're in kilts!!! That's a bunch of hot fun.

Listening: "Buttons"...Pussycat Dolls. Shut up. I have to have something to get me goin' in the morning. The lead "singer" could probably be my new girl-crush.

Edit: Token meerkat pic of the day.

SLEEEEEEP (because random is the new organized)

I'm tired. God, I'm tired. I stayed up too late doing I-don't-remember-what. Today consisted of work and teaching and running Thesis Director around from dr's office to pharmacy to home before going back to work, pissing around for a while, and running back to her house with her drugs before going back to work. I don't mind at all, it's just a bitch when it's 103 degrees outside. I would settle for the ninth circle of hell right now. At least it'd be cooler.

Now I find myself at the jc gearing up to face a class of a whopping four students for what should be hours on end (in the neighborhood of 4 hours, actually), and what will likely turn into 1.5 hours. What. Is. The. Point?

What I want to do tonight: swim, watch Pirates (didn't do it last night), eat a piece of cake, go to sleep.

What I should do tonight: read for comps.

What I will do tonight: the first one.

I feel like a worthless sack of ox poop. No reading has happened lately. I went from a kickass stint in June to a dry spell in July that would make the Sahara envious. Must force self to bury nose in book. But which book? Perhaps The Book of Illusions (Paul Auster). Hmm. Or maybe I'll finally finish The Human Stain. Or maybe I'll get back to writing 101 Ways to Kill Oneself in Grad School.

Way #7ish: Forcefully insert Snicker wrappers into both nostrils until the nasal cavity is plugged...while sewing the mouth shut with fishing line to avoid breakage. Wait.

Weird question of the day: *while sitting next to Elise at the work 'puters*....

I ask, "How do you spell pomegranate?"

Listening: "She Is"...The Fray

I *heart*....

Mom and I were talking tonight--after she'd been ruffling through CafePress all day--and she told me about a t-shirt she almost ordered for me. Are you ready? Are you sitting? It said:

I *heart* Meerkats!

OH. MY. GOD. I have to find it again and order it for myself. I have something of a twisted love for meerkats ever since my last trip to the Dallas zoo a few months ago. They're dirty and spastic and cute.

While I was searching for "I *heart* Meerkat t-shirts online just now I found another CafePress shop that specializes in "I *heart*" shirts (although the Meerkats remain elusive). Here are my backups in case I never find the Meerkats.

I *heart* penguins!
I *heart* Jehovah's Witnesses!
I *heart* adverbs!

I can't explain my newborn obsession with funky tees, but these fit the bill I think. OK, fine, I'm secretly trying to give Goose's "Hogwarts Rocks!" t-shirt a run for its money.

Now, in real world news...

Haven't been online much the last couple of days due to real life goings on. Monday was my first day in the Children's Lit/Film class. Monday was intro day (no biggie), yesterday I was a tad nervous because I had to lead an introductory discussion on film and film terminology (went fine). Thesis Director was in some major pain yesterday, which turned to bigger pain and landed her in the hospital today. She called around 4:45 this afternoon after all day in the emergency room, so I took her home. It's lookin' like kidney stones at this point. I hope she'll stay home tomorrow and recoop a bit more before she jumps back in the classroom. But she's hard-headed and am sure that if she's not flat on her back she'll be there. But I can understand that given that I'm the same way. I only take off sick if I really don't wanna be somewhere or am on the verge of death (like taking off from the jc last night because I was in a pissy mood).

Speaking of last night's pissy mood, it got me in the mood to watch the first Pirates of the Caribbean which I give an enthusiastic 3 vibrator salute (kidding, shut your mouths).

Listening: "Bleeding Out"...Dishwalla

Update: 7:31pm -- I found the Meerkats!!!

I survived!

After a long weekend of fun, it was back to the grind today. But first, here's the good-time stuff.

Sherrie arrived at 9:30 am Friday. We promptly high-tailed it to the biggest Half-Price Books in the land to ruffle through exotic cookbooks and other such goodies. I actually walked out without buying anything, which could well be a first. After that we tooled around Dallas a bit and headed to G-vegas for some Tex-Mex. Sherrie approved of the cuisine, which made me happy, and we came back to my house. She napped, I swam, I napped, we both woke up and had a House, MD mini-thon. She's thinking of buying the series! Now that I've converted her I should receive my set of steak knives in the mail any time.

Saturday was a playdate with Elise. We all went to the Dallas Museum of Art, then to Cuba Libre for a sassy spicy lunch (I'm now lustily in love with Mojitos), then to Deep Ellum to ooh and ahhh at the complete lack of anything fun to do in the daytime (what the fuck happened to all the weird shops? HUH?), then to Sam Moon to fight some bitches for some purses, and finally to the Cheesecake Factory for dessert with the Gypsy Poet, Wenchie, and Wenchie's brother. A good time was had by all--because what makes a day better than Dulce de Leche cheesecake and a peach bellini?

Sunday was pretty low key. Back to TaMolly's for more Tex-Mex, we saw Pirates of the Caribbean: The Dead Man's Chest, and chilled around the house before sacking out while watching more House.

It was good to reminisce and we have a plan to celebrate my Master's degree next summer with a trip to Toronto! Woot!

Today was the first day of the children's lit/film class. It's going to be a good time. I talked a bit today, but tomorrow's my day to introduce film terms and such. Must jet so I can make a few more notes and watch a movie before bed (Snow White: Tale of Terror).

Oh, and I feel obligated to report that the green heels were a good fit today. With the exception of one small blister on the bottom of my left foot. A small price to pay for fuckin' awesome shoes. I bought some that are even sexier this weekend at the Nine West outlet. Pics later perhaps.

Night bloggy peeps...I missed you all so....

Listening: "Oceano"...Josh Groban (because there's something sexy about curly-headed men singing in Italian)

Woot!

Sherrie's here from NC!!! I'll be scarce until Monday night!

As requested....

I know, I know, it's not that bad. I've had this haircut before, but this time I requested something DIFFERENT. That's the kicker. I can live with it, it's just a styling pain in the ass until it grows out a bit. And I loathe my roots, but until I stop being a water baby (aka basking in chlorine) I'm not gonna dish out $100 for color. I refuse!





Listening: to the sound of the clock ticking away the minutes of my life until I have to go teach.

I can't SLEEEEP!

Had a meeting with Thesis Director today and found out I'll be team teaching the Childrens Lit/Film class with her. This is great news, but it means a lot more work. Which is fine. But then we talked about thesis and I'm stressing because I wonder if I should change my topic before I get too deep in this whole process. *pulls hair out*

I needed to read for the aforementioned thesis and class tonight, but what did I do instead? Shopped for vintage music t-shirts online. I have a Bob Dylan and The Who earmarked. I want them. They're sexy.

Got my hair cut today, and upon leaving the shop I found out exactly how many ways one can weave the word "cunt" into a sentence. The hair is cute enough, whatever, but it's NOT what I ordered. Way too short, way more layered, and quite enough to piss me off. It is still stripey, and for that I thank the chlorine gods for not completely fucking it up.

Tomorrow is the first day of the second summer session at the junior college. A girl I went to high school with is registered for the class I'm teaching. That should be nice and weird. If you're reading this and went to high school with me, feel free to e-mail me to find out who the hell I'm talkin' about.

I've been unable to sleep and aimlessly wandering around my bedroom wearing my green heels of love. Why? I say why not! I've also been playing loudish music and bouncing around, flipping my too-short hair, and singing (I've been bopping/flipping to The Fray, Duncan Sheik, Beth Orton, Annie Lennox, Pat Benatar, et al).

I have a vision of myself walking into my first class as a teacher of freshman composition at the university in a pair of black capris, a Who t-shirt, and a black pin-stripe jacket. And acid green heels. With a new nose stud. You'd feel lucky to have a teacher like that, yes? At least I'm not (probably not) gonna wear the heart pendant with the nails through it. Yet.

I would like to be doing a little kissin' right now. I have someone in mind, but he's in his late 40's and a television STAR.



It's probably creepy that I adore him as much as I do, but I throw creepiness to the wind. Hugh Laurie is beautiful. OK, so what truly pushed me over the edge into this full-on lust for sex above the neck was a simply ravishing kissing scene in this week's repeat. *whoagod* I haven't posted a pic of him in quite a while. I'm due.

JEFF, if you're reading this, e-mail me. *unrelated to the above Hugh Laurie horniness*

Listening: "Girl from the North Country"...Johnny Cash w/Bob Dylan...trying to wind down.

And I'm onboard with this Heidegger business. I've never read him but I absolutely--positively even--use hyphens too much and I make up words all the time (assininymity!).

What 20th Century Theorist are you?

You are Martin Heidegger! Your reputation is stained a bit by the fact that you were a member of the Nazi party, but your groundbreaking Being and Time is still read by a whole lot of people. You overuse the hyphen, and make up a lot of words. You died in 1976.
Take this quiz!



Quizilla
Join

Make A Quiz More Quizzes Grab Code

Happy 4th of July...

July 4th is a bittersweet day at my house. As most of you know, my grandfather passed away in 2002. July 4th is his birthday. It's been almost four years since he passed away, I don't go to his gravesite as much anymore, I don't cry as much. I still think of him all the time, and there are reminders of him everywhere. His desk in our living room, this picture on a table, his class ring in my jewelry box.

Our family hasn't been the same since he and my grandmother died. We used to get together weekly, but now it's every few months. We keep in touch, but we don't see each other as much. Kevin's kids are 15, 11, and 8. Which makes me feel really old. Kevin is my cousin, but we grew up in my grandparents' house...much like a brother and sister. His kids are at that age where they're steeped in activities--Magan playing sports, Miranda playing all the sports Magan plays, and Mikel is driving (horror of horrors!).

Today was one of the best days we've all had in a very long time. Everyone was in a good mood, plenty to talk about, to laugh about. For some reason, this year, Miranda (the youngest) has been really excited that the 4th was my grandpa's birthday. It's in her mind moreso this year than before. When they arrived, Mom said something about our meal of bbq being a tribute to "Dadoo" since it's what he always cooked for our 4th of July celebrations. Miranda was sitting in the living room, kneeling by the coffee table, almost ready to dig into her bbq sandwich when Mom made this declaration.

She was quiet, a little timid, which she never is. And she looked up and said, "Thank you." A thank you for our celebration of not only the 4th of July, but all that it's represented for our family in the past. For the celebration of my grandfather. I'm so glad they can remember my grandparents. Especially Miranda, as she's the youngest and was only four when they passed.

At that moment, I felt like he was in the room. And it wasn't sad, and it wasn't mournful. It was a warmth in our house again.

We can finally celebrate.

First e-mail of the morning....

Amanda A. writes:

Andi,
Gavin Degraw is clearly not handling you dumping him for Hugh.



By George, I think she's right! Obviously my love of Hugh has completely thrown Gavin over into the pit of abhorrent fashion with no hopes of any return with his dignity in tact. Anyone that resorts to a ribbon belt is beyond help. *sob*

Check out Fug for the rest of the story.

Another new pretty....

Got a new bookcase because my old one was wayyyy too small. Here's the before and after.

Before:



After:





They would still be double-stacked if I'd brought everything out of the closet. Ugg. I love books, I just need a bigger house to put 'em in.

Upcoming: a rant about relationships and more stupid people.

Listening: "Cab"...Train

Estella's Revenge, Issue #4: "Freedom"

Click the pic to get in bed with Estella's Revenge!

Isn't Heather's cover graphic luscious?? I can't stop looking at it. Very vintage sexy. Great big pat on the back to all the writers. I think they may have outdone themselves.

New linky buttons available here.

I'm off to bed. Been workin' on getting the 'zine online for about...oh...7 hours. My eyes are fried.

Listening: "Adagio for Strings"....Samuel Barber