Friday, January 30, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Naturally, though, when my father found out that I spent my afternoons in the dead of winter lying on cold ice, he kind of freaked out.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Counting threes through the window, imitation glass, that's been stratched in code, to be read by someone else.
Hold my head to the skin I said, when my heart wasn't always there. As you turn down the light in the long black night, peel back the moon, beware!
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
I'm thinking of drinking the entire sea, where fishes makes wishes and swim into me. Oh, what a beautiful dream.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Woke Up Late, Lost My Teakettle, Munched on Greek Pizza: Why I am the most exciting person . . . ever.
Friday, January 16, 2009
Strange winds are blowing me down this way: Why I'm going to need Headlights to drive through the snow.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
What can I write that will for me subdue this urge to cram everything in my mind into words to create an amalgamation of text to describe this overwhelming . . . feeling? I suppose I could start by describing the most perfect worse day of my life so far. Really, it was perfect in that this was the kind of day that hollywood execs write scripts about where famous stars play leading ladies and there is this huge triumph over insurmountable obstacles . . . with exception to that whole triumph part, for me there was no triumph, no win, just despair.
So picture this:
It’s Monday morning. I woke up. Lying in bed wondering why I made myself get out of the comfort of down and cotton. The sounds of Public Enemy are in the background . . . with “Burn Hollywood Burn” sounding out from my alarm clock. It’s kind of the perfect song to wake up to in the morning.
I roll over to look at the clock. For some reason it reads an hour later than it should. Maybe I subconsciously set the alarm to go off later than normal so I’d purposefully be late to work. I still haven’t actually figured whether it was a slip of my subconscious or faulty manufacturing, but either way I was late and when people are late they rush. They pull themselves out of the state they are in and try to make up all the time lost by moving quicker than normal.
Because of this I walked out of the house forgetting my wallet, scarf, gloves, and the sack lunch I had prepared the previous night. I sped down the highway to the sounds of the album “thickfreakness” by The Black Keys . . . you know, a little roadway blues. I pulled into the parking lot and then proceeded to run to the campus building to both fight off the cold and make myself feel like I was going to be less late than I already was.
I arrived to my office with red nose and blossoming cheeks. I soon realized after arriving that I had forgotten to grab my satchel and rucksack containing all of my work files out of the backseat of the car in my rush to make to the office. I run back to my car. I search my pockets, searching for my car keys. I realize I forgot them in my office. I run back to my office. I search my desk, bags, and all the drawers for the missing keys. They aren’t there. I realize I must have dropped them in route somewhere. I backtrack. Twice. Then, finally out of desperation I run back to my car and peer inside the window. I see my keys dangling from the ignition. I try to open the door. Locked. I try to open every other door. Locked.
I walk miserably back to the office. I hear the dulcet tones of Elf Power’s “Come Lie Down With Me (and sing my song)” playing from somewhere in background, possibly the adjoining office. I phone John. He has my spare. He doesn’t answer and continues to not answer for the next 6 hours. I do what work I can without my files. I mill around. Get that bitter chiding from my superiors for being late. Finally, John answers. He brings my spare and says he’ll meet me in the parking lot.
I run out to meet him. I see him in the lot walking around as if searching. I wonder what he’s searching for. Then I realize what it is. My car. It’s not there. It seems in my rushing pace I had inadvertently parked zone that my permit did not authorize. It had been towed. I crawl into John’s car to . . . relax. I made all the necessary phone calls. From the speakers I could make out “Put Us Back Together” by Headlights chiming out. It was soothing. Of course, once I got to the tow yard I realized that in the rush of the morning I had forgot my wallet with my license and registration in it . . . so I had to bum a ride all the way home to retrieve it before I could pick my vehicle up.
After the fiasco was completed, I reunited with my auto in the tow yard, paid the overpriced fine and charges, and left feeling quite joyous. I mean was else could go wrong? However, joy must cloud the senses somehow, because halfway through the drive home I heard the flashing whirring of a police car pulling me over. I was speeding, apparently. I began to search for my wallet. I couldn’t find my wallet.
Here, I don't exactly know what happened . . . apparently somewhere between me obtaining car car at the tow yard and me thanking John for his helpful services, I misplaced my ID. I would later find out that it was left, somehow, crammed between one of John's car seats. So not only did I get a ticket for speeding but also one for driving without a license. My drive home was spent listening to the Starlight Mint’s album “The Dream that Stuff was Made From” and thinking about how I could pinch my savings to cover all the money that had to pay “the man” today.
Then in no time I was home. I got out of the car. I grab my bags and paperwork. Then, I slipped. I don’t even think it was icy but as I walked up the steps to the doorways my footing became misplaced and I tumbled down about ten stairs and rolled into bushes in front of the steps. I felt . . . pain . . . from the fall naturally but also because the bush I had rolled into had thorns that were quite large . . . and they were poking into my skin. I crawl out of the bush. I saw red. I felt red. I wondered where my glasses were.
At this point I heard John walking from his car over to me. He gasped. I would soon know why. Looking into the mirror, I gasped. My nose had taken a beating. It was bleeding slowly and bent in some abnormal position . . . quite hideous really. At that I had myself drove to the hospital. While in the car, I was still wondering where my glasses where because without them I’m practically blind and I heard The Violent Femmes coming from the speakers. It seemed far off.
At the hospital I found out that my nose was broken. The doctors proceeded to pop it back in place and bandage it. Thankfully I couldn’t see any of this happening . . . oh, and thankfully they gave large doses of pain meds to “deal’ with this. I couldn’t really think about anything other than the fact of how this was really going to eat up my savings.
Then in no time it seemed everything was fixed, so with bandages and pain meds in tow I arrived home, again, finally. I needed a nap . . . a long sleep. Thankfully, I didn’t have office hours the next day, so I wasn’t technically required to come in . . . and my classes . . . oh yeah, I’d be skipping them. I made a large cup of strong hot tea and put on whatever was easiest to find. It turned out to be Citay. It was kind of fitting. Then I fell asleep.
I woke up this morning to the sound of the phone ringing. I managed to find it. It was John. He called to say that when he left the house that morning he found my glasses near the steps. He’d left them on the table. I said my thanks, popped in my contacts, and made my way downstairs to pick them up.
On the table, there they were, snapped in half and lenses smashed to bits. Kind of fitting, heh? I wallowed in this a little bit. I suppose one say that this day, yesterday, wasn't that bad. I mean, at least no one died . . . of course, I've dealt with the loss of death before . . . and I've got to say, it just doesn't sting the same way a getting hit with three different police tickets, a towing charge, hospital bill, a broken nose, and a smashed pair of glasses coming at you all in the same day.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Add the experience of this smell with the Apples in Stereo playing in the background and you will have the best winter morning ever. Toss in a hot homemade apple turnover and you have my morning.
I think I need to live life more.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
I think I'm going to stop for the night and take an aspirin. Tomorrow I'm going to start on matching socks. I don't exactly know if people wear matching socks with their mittens but, I think I'm going to start. I think the color of yarn that I used are actually better suited to be worn on the feet rather than the hands . . . I mean really they're labeled names like "Fruity Fiesta," which is basically a vomiting of all the colors on the color wheel dyed in wool, "Berry Bonanza," which is series of blues and purples dyed into alpaca, and "Aquagem," which is this violent turquoise that should never be seen on a person's foot or hand dyed into an eco-cotton blend.
Hopefully by tomorrow my fingers will lose their swell so bending them won't be as painful . . . and maybe by then I'll be off this knitting buzz that I've thrown myself into. Maybe not. I've got a week left until the holidays end for me and I have to go back to work and classes and everything else (you know, those dreadful obligations), so I'm going to try do things that I wouldn't be able to do once everything picks up again.
Maybe I'll be ambitious and start reading through all those French novels I bought in Montreal.
Saturday, January 3, 2009
After arriving back here, home, finally, I rested for the entire day. Lounged. Read. The weather warmed up to such a tolerable degree that I went outside and ran around in the trees soaking up the shine of the sun. Hmm, I think I've covered the past two weeks up to the present. Oh wait, I suppose I should mention something about the new year . . . okay, well, it's a new year. Enjoy it and the coming seasons. My mother had the colloquialism that "what you do in the first of the new year is what you will be doing for the rest of the year." The first of the year has past, so I guess this really wouldn't help anyone.
On a side note I spent my new year's day playing Scrabble, drinking grape soda, and watching old silent films. I guess I'll being doing that all the time now.