two of hearts

Love. Jesus. I spend far too much of my time contemplating love, in all of its forms. But lately I think my focus has been on romantic love...probably a little too much of my focus. But that tends to happen over the holidays when I'm feeling a little too sentimental. And it tends to happen when feeling like I am surrounded by friends with new steadies who are positively drowning in new relationship energy. And then conversely seeing the aftershocks from breakups of several long term relationships. And then quietly observing people staying in relationships that shouldn't necessarily continue. And watching the ex interact with his new love. And having an all-to-brief and not necessarily wise "fling" with somebody I've been infatuated with for years and ending up with a serious case of unrequited...well not love but something that feels more intense than like.
Love. Jesus. So effing complicated. But why? It's the one thing that almost everybody wants. So why is it so difficult, so elusive, so seemingly unsustainable? I imagine it's because most of us have learned that love should be tailored to our individual needs. And if the chances of picking six random numbers are 1 in 53 million...what by god are the chances of finding that one complementary person out there out of the billions? And if you think you've found that person, there is certainly no guarantee that they think they've found that person in you. And even if you both think that way, who's to say that you'll believe that in a month or a year or ten years? Ugh.
Is it too late to give it all up for monastery life?

the robots are coming

I remember reading about a phenomenon when the iPod first came out years and years ago. Apparently at some point a person and their iPod will experience some level of emotional, spiritual, and psychological synchronicity, a marriage of a living soul and a memory chip. Once this happens, the iPod (mine having assumed the identity Em-Three in all her pink and shiny glory) will play music FOR the listener not just because that's what happens when you press play. It will go through the playlist and specifically choose the songs to facilitate the soundtrack of the user's life. I experienced this with my old iPod mini, a dinosaur relic in the iPod family. I've just re-experienced this union with my new iPod. Of the thousands of songs on my iPod, Em-three has been playing some incredibly obscure songs and songs that have never played before to match my mood. It's quite an amazing feeling to hear a song you didn't even know you had and that song being absolutely pin point perfect for that exact moment in time. It's like the beginnings of some sci-fi short story. I guess that means the future leader of all things will be Steve Jobs.

bring out the best foods

I hate mayonnaise. I hate it with a passion rivaled only by my passions for Johnny Depp and out of town boys. In the matter of two days, I have been bamboozled by sandwich and hamburger companies into eating the goopy egg-slop that reminds me of a nasty phlegm-wad. Last night I ate a greasy-grease burger, a necessity after a night of drinking, and though I wanted the divine sounding deluxe burger...I opted for the cheeseburger instead because the deluxe came with mayo. But they had sleathely slathered mayo on my burger anyway...bastards, totally put a dent in my buzz. Then today I decided that I couldn't eat crackers and peanut butter for another four day stretch, so I went to the grocery store and picked up some nibbles, including a deli sandwich. I should have known that something was amiss when I noticed there weren't individual little packets of condiments that most sandwiches have. What a way to ruin a perfectly good turkey sandwich, a ton of icky-icky mayo. Man, I'm telling you...when I rule the world not only will EVERYBODY have the same metabolism, but mayonnaise will only be used in my mom's crab salad and occasionally for canned tuna.

ok computer

Yet again, my computer is on the fritz. I think it might be dying of old age...it sounds like it's in its final death rattle. But I am going to ride this puppy until it totally croaks. It's been an interesting few weeks. I find that I'm in a strange space where old is new and new is old. I'm cultivating amazing friendships with people I have known for almost as long as I've been here but just never really spent a whole lot of time with. Conversely, I find some of my old friendships sort of dying out the way in which my computer is...and as with my computer, I intend to ride them out until the end. I'm enjoying my job more and more. It's nice to have a place in which one can feel competent, especially when other parts of my life leave me feeling like a hobo on the crazy train. All in all, I find myself feeling fairly happy. And that is a welcome relief, particularly considering that it is almost exactly a year since my life ended up on a completely different path and I was the unwilling passenger. I guess the biggest lesson I've learned in the last year is that things will change but I will survive and walk out the other end a better person.

i can be your heroes baby

Yay for Heroes being back for Season 3. I've only managed to catch the first night on an actual tellie which almost makes me consider going out and buying one of those cable converter thingies. Almost.

So far there are some things that I REALLY like about the new season. The kind of like that makes me shout at the tv/computer:
Linderman is back and is some kind of PTSD figment of Nathan's imagination...hells to the yizzeah.
The new psychedelic goo eating hot African dude who talks about Carl Jung.
Sylar getting Claire's powers...fuck yeah.
Sylar potentially being the brother of Nathan and Peter
Sylar in general.

Things I am not so stoked on:
The fact that they make shitty characters just so they can throw in some hot chicks. First there's this new triplet character, so dumb that I can't even remember her name. I didn't like her when she was the "twins," I was glad when she/they died last season. But then making the actress into some stereotypical hottie assistant who fucks her boss...I mean really? And has the power of Mr. Freeze? And then Maya who somehow miraculously has lost most of her Ecuadorian accent and most of her clothes and now sounds and dresses like she's from Jersey? I mean seriously, can Elle get more screen time? At least she's interesting.
And speaking of interesting female characters...ummmmm so why did Claire go from being a sweet blonde Aryan cheerleader girl when she was all innocent and full of hope for the future and then turns into a dark haired, vaguely dragonladyish bad girl with a bad attitude and a slightly ethnically ambiguous appearance? Why the bad guy always gotta be a brown-head? And does being mean somehow give you time to go tanning all of the time? Whaddup with all of that?
And which one of the writers rented The Fly recently...probably the one writing Saresh's plot I'm guessing.

I could go on and on and on. Mostly because I'm a geek. To sum up... Stoked about the season, Sylar rocks my socks, and please for god's sake kill off the playboy bunny characters and let somebody other than the old lady be an interesting female character who doesn't have to spend half of her time either crying or on her back.

shop til you drop

Crop in Style Navigator carry bag/ rollalong - $50 (tulalip )
Date: 2008-10-05, 10:47PM PDT
Used, but still in great condition.
New for $100

Perfect for those overnight craft nights.

As somebody who is kind of crafty, I actually think this is a really cool bag. But the part that cracks me up is the fact that it is perfect for overnight craft nights. Apparently there's a need for taking your crafting out to overnight events...

uh huh her

I have been hanging my head in shame for the last few days because this weekend...I was THAT GIRL...I drunk dialed. And I am MORTIFIED. Utterly mortified. I want to believe that maybe I just imagined saying some of the things I said...but no...there is no respite from my stupid girl actions. And that's exactly what they are...stupid girl actions. And I sit here beating myself up about it because I KNOW better...I know I know better. I know better than to drunk dial, I know better than to drunk dial the particular person I did because it's an exercise in futility, and if I were the kind of person who read books like He's Not That Into You...I probably would have had my aha moment already. But the silly thing is that I just can't seem to help myself even though I know better...because I do stupid girl things, things that make me THAT GIRL. And I know we all do it occasionally, and I shouldn't be so hard on myself. But Christ, it's reason enough to never get ri-donk-u-lously wrecked so I avoid the situations that create these THAT GIRL situations.

lonely little petunia

Every once in a while I get bitten by the lonely bug and would like to have somebody at home when I get there, whether that be a partner, lover, roommate, friend, whatever. You know, somebody whose availability is without question or planning...other than Iniki, he's terrible at cutting up vegetables and isn't really up to snuff on politics or architechture. But then I remember that living alone has with so many advantages that it pretty much kicks ass.

• Knowing that every mess is your own makes cleaning so much easier to endure.
• Designing and decorating exactly how you want...Hello Kitty bathroom, yes please!
• Dirty panties on all the doorknobs, why the hell not?
• Being able to eat pudding out of the tub with your questionably clean fingers while standing at the kitchen counter and listening to the new New Kids on the Black without shame of being caught...uhhhh...priceless!
• Two words...naked yoga
• Never having to close the bathroom door
• Never having to wait to use the bathroom
• Never being surprised by the complete lack of toilet paper
• Only flushing the toilet when you feel it necessary
• Drinking out of every carton in the place so as not to produce dishes
• Washing the very few dishes that only you produce at your leisure
• Not having to explain your need to wake up at two in the morning to practice glittery disco makeup so as to reproduce the Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds scene in the movie Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
• Being able to practice the following in private in your underwear until you are ready to unveil your new dance movies in public:
  

Yup...this is the life.

all that glitters

I'm broke. I somehow went from having more money than I knew what to do with to should have thought a little better about how I was spending my money because my little padded checking account is now utterly anorexic. And most of that is because of Burningman and taking retail therapy a little too seriously. However not having money is so not going to curb my little shopping addiction so I am thinking that I should look around for a part time job. Nothing too serious, just a little job so that I can earn a little cash on the side. I figure now is a good time to look with the holidays approaching. But in the meantime, while I look for the perfect part time job to fall right onto my lap, I thought I might cash in some of my rewards points on one of my credit cards (that's right, I said ONE of my credit cards). Rewards points are great, I mean getting something is certainly better than getting nothing. But there is a little stomach clenching when I realize that I had to spend about three grand to get that $25.00 gift certificate to Red Lobster. The funny thing though is the shit they offer you as rewards as well. Okay, a digital camera I understand...but seriously, a shop vac? A shop-vac I spent ten grand earning. Whoah.

DESA REMINGTON Shredder Vac and BlowerNew Item: #1 selling Shopvac!
10,000 points
DESA REMINGTON "Shredder Vac and Blower" with anti-clog design that vacuums and mulches the toughest debris - even wet leaves. Features: 3 tools in 1 - blower, vacuum and mulcher; 12 amp motor; 215 MPH maximum air speed; 2 speed blower (low and high speeds); 14:1 mulch ratio; CFM: 370; tool-less conversion from blower to vacuum. Weight: 9.1 lbs.

in the beginning

The cauldron holding the information and experiences of my processing has finally boiled down to one simple idea...honesty. It really does all come down to this one thing. Love, Compassion, Acceptance, Empathy, Integrity...ALL of these catchphrases bandied about like a shuttlecock stem from the ONE thing. It all comes down to being honest, being truthful, being genuine, being real.
Most importantly is to be honest with yourself. Such a simple idea, the idea of a small child... listen to yourself, believe in yourself, honor yourself...know thyself, know your truth...they (those guys) speak of it setting you free. Who are you capable of being? Who are you willing to be? Who are you wanting to be? What are you willing to do to get to any of those places? What are you willing to give up to get there?
It's only after you've REALLY asked the questions and come up with an honest assessment that you can even begin to be honest with others. And being honest with others coming from a place of honesty will surely cultivate love and compassion and integrity and acceptance. And it will be real. And it will be magical. And it might even be perfect.
But because we're focused on the end goal...the culmination...the reward. We've surpassed much of the work necessary to get THERE, that nebulous space of love and acceptance and warm gooey cookies.
We all have our reasons for not being completly honest with (first) ourselves and (then) others. We want to be liked, we want to be loved, we want to be valued and appreciated, we want to be right, we want to be in control, we want to feel the rewards and eat the warm gooey cookies. So we cut in line and sidestep the beginning stages like a slick wet grate on a sidewalk where the potential to slip and fall and get hurt is far greater.
And we take what we can get and it is great, but we still notice...that teeny voice telling us that something is missing, something is not quite right. But now going back seems even harder than doing the work in the first place. So we continue with the pantomime, we play the role we created for ourselves, we keep on our game face.
And it's often good enough that we continue playing the game, until maybe one day it isn't. And today is that day for me. So I'm pulling the card that's taking me back to Go, with or without my $200.00. I'm going to take as many steps back as I need and truely look within myself to find my truth, to find it honestly, and give myself compassion and integrity and love along the way. Because I know that until I do, I can't fully give what I don't really have. And I can't get it back if I can't truly give it. And spending so much time in the labrynth is getting pretty exhausting.

when worlds collide

My first Burningman experience was a glorious affair full of wonder. I got to look at and experience a world like no other with a child's eyes, mind, and heart. And it was without a doubt a most fantastic and beautiful adventure.
But for my second Burningman, I think my experience was through the eyes of an adolescent. Yes, I had been there before though much of it was still left to be experienced, but I was no longer the prodigal virgin being encouraged to shatter the bell at the greeting station. I was this time truely coming home.
As I decompress and try to process the grandness of this year's burn, I have concluded that this was a year of being surrounded by worlds of opposition. I feel like this year was a study in dichotomy, a year when worlds collided and afterwards I am left to figure out what to do with the shards and shrapnel left behind.
A prime example of this dichotomy was the weather. I mean...hello? did anybody else feel like the two pigs who made their houses out of sticks and straw? I'm sure the people in RVs felt a little bit more like the third pig with the bricks. From raging storms to warm nights slowly bleeding into the most beautiful sunrises, it was pretty clear that we were at the mercy of mother playa and she was feeling a little bipolar.
Another big example for me was who I thought I would spend time with and who I actually ended up spending time with. How people I know very little took the time to seek me out and how people who have a huge place in my heart never did. How you can carry assumptions and expectations with you onto the playa but in the end those are blown away with the dust storms.
Then one very tangible instance was when somebody who I have random moments with thanked me for doing a very small and seemingly innocuous thing. And that very same thing ended up being a knife in another's heart who has a real presence in my life.
And of course there is always the raging study in opposition when you spend time with and connect with people in what seems like a very real and profound way and believe it to be the most wonderful thing ever...just to have the connection utterly diffused and confused the next time you see them.
In the end, for me, the burn was a week of highs in one direction and then highs in the completely opposite direction. There weren't really any lows, just a series of incredibly intense moments on opposite ends of whatever light spectrum Burningman happens to rest within (or without). I guess when I set out my intention for grandness, I should have been more specific and asked for it in a limited capacity.
Now, after it is all said and done, I suppose it is my job to find the proper perspective to create a balance between these worlds of opposition so that these experiences can co-exist within me comfortably. And for me, that is a difficult job, and because of the difficulty of the job I am struggling through a intense and formidable lesson...one I'm still working on...for quite a few years. But it's a good thing, no...a grand thing.

weaknesses

Why are boys like kryptonite? How is it that perfectly intelligent, reasonable, beautiful, independent, etc. etc. women end up blithering, slithering, blind ninnies when it comes to boys (myself obviously included in this assessment--the ninny part at any rate)?

mr. rogers neighbor-hoods

Recently, a few sketchy people moved into my apartment building. They seemed nice enough, but my spidey-senses started getting all tingly when they were around. Then their friends started showing up here and there to visit, and though I am trying not to be judgemental, uhhhhhh, it wasn't too hard to realize that shit wasn't quite up to snuff. My initial thought when all of this happened was..."Damn, I guess the price of mobile homes must have gone up and they had to move into the city." (okay, so maybe a little judgemental)
Tonight I noticed a collective of neighborinos standing outside colluding, so I decided to join them to find out what the haps on the craps was. I knew without even having to ask that they were talking about all of the shady characters who have been visiting our hamlet of late. I knew they were talking about this because just an hour before I was telling my sister that it wouldn't be long before a meth lab was built in one of the basement apartments. But in that I was incorrect, apparently these people do not do the tweaky rip your face off meth dance...no, they like to ride the white horse. Behold...I have a fucking pair of heroin dealers and their junkie friends living in my joint.
Then the six of us (our smoke break neighborhood watch crew) decided to walk past the apartment in question and look in the windows which we were able to peep in because it's a basement place. It has NO FURNITURE (they've been there for months), random mattresses strewn about (not even in sets), lots of electronics (okay maybe not LOTS) and a large piece of wood covered in jewelry (and I mean covered, it's like a pawn shop display case) and not much else (some dirty dishes and garbage not enclosed in a receptacle). And some of my neighbors have witnessed drug deals going on around the building. What the fuck?
There is also apparently a real-live meth lab in one of the houses across the back alley. I guess it's good to know that when I decide to hit rock fucking bottom, I won't have to go far for my accessories. I can pick up my H while doing my laundry.

serenity prayer

Please give me the wisdom to ignore the catty, trifling bullshit of those women at work. And please give me the serenity to not spend hours trying to determine whether the attitude created the circumstances or the circumstances created the attitude when I know that finding an answer to the whole chicken and egg argument is an impossible feat. And most importantly, please give me the strength to not ever ever ever let myself act in those ways. In the name of the holy goddess of all things fantastic and bright. Amen.

rejection perfection

So I did it...I put myself "out there." That nebulous space where you crack open the door and waggle your finger at somebody in the hopes that they'll be enticed enough by the smell of fresh baked cookies and a glowing hearth to come in and sit a spell...also known as dating. While I'm not interested in a relationship or any serious type of commitment at this point (AT ALL), some light dating coupled with some heavy petting would be A-okay by me. So...I put myself out there with somebody I've known for a while, somebody I developed an instantaneous attraction to, somebody who is a friend. And because silliness always happens when people are not of sound mind when alcohol is concerned, I did get to first base (that's kissing right? I never did get that straight). And then was subsequently brushed off, in a compassionate way. I have to say, rejection tied to friendship is a little worse than just plain rejection. But it's all good I guess. I had to try and it's probably for the best.

personality snapshot

Introverted iNtuitive Feeling Judging
by Joe Butt Profile: INFJ
Beneath the quiet exterior, INFJs hold deep convictions about the weightier matters of life. Those who are activists -- INFJs gravitate toward such a role -- are there for the cause, not for personal glory or political power.
INFJs are champions of the oppressed and downtrodden. They often are found in the wake of an emergency, rescuing those who are in acute distress. INFJs may fantasize about getting revenge on those who victimize the defenseless. The concept of 'poetic justice' is appealing to the INFJ.
"There's something rotten in Denmark." Accurately suspicious about others' motives, INFJs are not easily led. These are the people that you can rarely fool any of the time. Though affable and sympathetic to most, INFJs are selective about their friends. Such a friendship is a symbiotic bond that transcends mere words.
INFJs have a knack for fluency in language and facility in communication. In addition, nonverbal sensitivity enables the INFJ to know and be known by others intimately.
Writing, counseling, public service and even politics are areas where INFJs frequently find their niche.
Functional Analysis:
Introverted iNtuition
Introverted intuitives, INFJs enjoy a greater clarity of perception of inner, unconscious processes than all but their INTJ cousins. Just as SP types commune with the object and "live in the here and now" of the physical world, INFJs readily grasp the hidden psychological stimuli behind the more observable dynamics of behavior and affect. Their amazing ability to deduce the inner workings of the mind, will and emotions of others gives INFJs their reputation as prophets and seers. Unlike the confining, routinizing nature of introverted sensing, introverted intuition frees this type to act insightfully and spontaneously as unique solutions arise on an event by event basis.
Extraverted Feeling
Extraverted feeling, the auxiliary deciding function, expresses a range of emotion and opinions of, for and about people. INFJs, like many other FJ types, find themselves caught between the desire to express their wealth of feelings and moral conclusions about the actions and attitudes of others, and the awareness of the consequences of unbridled candor. Some vent the attending emotions in private, to trusted allies. Such confidants are chosen with care, for INFJs are well aware of the treachery that can reside in the hearts of mortals. This particular combination of introverted intuition and extraverted feeling provides INFJs with the raw material from which perceptive counselors are shaped.
Introverted Thinking
The INFJ's thinking is introverted, turned toward the subject. Perhaps it is when the INFJ's thinking function is operative that he is most aloof. A comrade might surmise that such detachment signals a disillusionment, that she has also been found lacking by the sardonic eye of this one who plumbs the depths of the human spirit. Experience suggests that such distancing is merely an indication that the seer is hard at work and focusing energy into this less efficient tertiary function.
Extraverted Sensing
INFJs are twice blessed with clarity of vision, both internal and external. Just as they possess inner vision which is drawn to the forms of the unconscious, they also have external sensing perception which readily takes hold of worldly objects. Sensing, however, is the weakest of the INFJ's arsenal and the most vulnerable. INFJs, like their fellow intuitives, may be so absorbed in intuitive perceiving that they become oblivious to physical reality. The INFJ under stress may fall prey to various forms of immediate gratification. Awareness of extraverted sensing is probably the source of the "SP wannabe" side of INFJs. Many yearn to live spontaneously; it's not uncommon for INFJ actors to take on an SP (often ESTP) role.
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Introverted iNtuiting Feeling Judging
by Marina Margaret Heiss
INFJs are distinguished by both their complexity of character and the unusual range and depth of their talents. Strongly humanitarian in outlook, INFJs tend to be idealists, and because of their J preference for closure and completion, they are generally "doers" as well as dreamers. This rare combination of vision and practicality often results in INFJs taking a disproportionate amount of responsibility in the various causes to which so many of them seem to be drawn.
INFJs are deeply concerned about their relations with individuals as well as the state of humanity at large. They are, in fact, sometimes mistaken for extroverts because they appear so outgoing and are so genuinely interested in people -- a product of the Feeling function they most readily show to the world. On the contrary, INFJs are true introverts, who can only be emotionally intimate and fulfilled with a chosen few from among their long-term friends, family, or obvious "soul mates." While instinctively courting the personal and organizational demands continually made upon them by others, at intervals INFJs will suddenly withdraw into themselves, sometimes shutting out even their intimates. This apparent paradox is a necessary escape valve for them, providing both time to rebuild their depleted resources and a filter to prevent the emotional overload to which they are so susceptible as inherent "givers." As a pattern of behavior, it is perhaps the most confusing aspect of the enigmatic INFJ character to outsiders, and hence the most often misunderstood -- particularly by those who have little experience with this rare type.
Due in part to the unique perspective produced by this alternation between detachment and involvement in the lives of the people around them, INFJs may well have the clearest insights of all the types into the motivations of others, for good and for evil. The most important contributing factor to this uncanny gift, however, are the empathic abilities often found in Fs, which seem to be especially heightened in the INFJ type (possibly by the dominance of the introverted N function).
This empathy can serve as a classic example of the two-edged nature of certain INFJ talents, as it can be strong enough to cause discomfort or pain in negative or stressful situations. More explicit inner conflicts are also not uncommon in INFJs; it is possible to speculate that the causes for some of these may lie in the specific combinations of preferences which define this complex type. For instance, there can sometimes be a "tug-of-war" between NF vision and idealism and the J practicality that urges compromise for the sake of achieving the highest priority goals. And the I and J combination, while perhaps enhancing self-awareness, may make it difficult for INFJs to articulate their deepest and most convoluted feelings.
Usually self-expression comes more easily to INFJs on paper, as they tend to have strong writing skills. Since in addition they often possess a strong personal charisma, INFJs are generally well-suited to the "inspirational" professions such as teaching (especially in higher education) and religious leadership. Psychology and counseling are other obvious choices, but overall, INFJs can be exceptionally difficult to pigeonhole by their career paths. Perhaps the best example of this occurs in the technical fields. Many INFJs perceive themselves at a disadvantage when dealing with the mystique and formality of "hard logic", and in academic terms this may cause a tendency to gravitate towards the liberal arts rather than the sciences. However, the significant minority of INFJs who do pursue studies and careers in the latter areas tend to be as successful as their T counterparts, as it is *iNtuition* -- the dominant function for the INFJ type -- which governs the ability to understand abstract theory and implement it creatively.
In their own way, INFJs are just as much "systems builders" as are INTJs; the difference lies in that most INFJ "systems" are founded on human beings and human values, rather than information and technology. Their systems may for these reasons be conceptually "blurrier" than analogous NT ones, harder to measure in strict numerical terms, and easier to take for granted -- yet it is these same underlying reasons which make the resulting contributions to society so vital and profound.
Copyright © 1996-2007 by Marina Margaret Heiss and Joe Butt

shiny new things

I've been at my new job for a week now. I'm unfortunately already bored. But I LOVE LOVE LOVE getting off during the evening, normal hours...especially since the weather in Seattle has been so stupendous lately. It's nice...though I am realizing that I'm kind of boring. And I'm still very much not a morning person.

naughty puppet

My Naughty Puppet Strikes Again!

Sometimes the good things come to you on a silver platter covered in chocolate sauce. The below message deals with my naughty puppet, Mr. Firf (as he will now be known). I received him a few years ago at the Pacific Science Center. And then recently I got the following messages in regards to said aquisition and naming rights of said aquisition. It's almost too good to be true, except that it is true and I have busted a gut about all of it:

PS-Names have been obscured to protect the innocent people (clearly not me and even moreso not the puppet).

From the OG: I hear ya have a puppet named F*****.
............ I was curious as to where the name came from :)
From me: Ha. How did you know about Mr. F*****? Mr. F***** is probably named after you. Especially if your first name is *r*a*. The day I got him I was at something at the science center and my puppet needed a free pass to enter and there was one left with the name *r*a* F*****. Is this you? Because that would be incredibly funny.
From the OG: Yes, this is I. What's even funnier is the puppet strangely resembles my dad. And get this, apparently my cousins happened across some photos of yours, and were very shocked to find a strange puppet with our name. That's the only reason I even know anything about it. They are demanding that the puppet be sacrificed, so as to return dignity to our name :) Any chance we can appease them?
Then a little bit later from the OG: My family has requested very graciously if you could have a renaming of your little friend, and/or at the very least remove the name from the online photos :) It would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!
From me: Where were the online photos? Flickr? I will gladly do so.
From the OG: Ya (edited for content) the online search appears to no longer be returning anything. Personally I could care less, but seeing as we are the only F*****'s in this country. Maybe if you just changed the spelling, something like F*****. Neway, Thanks! Now maybe my square family members will stop bugging me about the crazy internet F***** puppet :)
From Me:Yeah...I remembered that Mr. F (as he is now known) is only up on the flickr and took down the rest of the name in his photos. Thanks for being a good sport about my puppet stealing your identity. I apologize if I did anything to offend any of your family. I guess I forget how easily information can travel on the internet. But it does make for a really really cool story! Mr. F says to say hello and that he's grateful he didn't have to be drawn and quartered to appease the real F*****s of the grand old U.S. of A. :)

END SCENE: Mr. F will now bow center stage for being so awesome that he can still create mayhem even from the inside of the box, inside of a bag, and inside of a closet.

middling

It seems that I am in an "in between" point in my life. Evidence of this as follows:
A. I am in between bra sizes...both the band and the cup. This means that I can either suffer the too tight bra or be a little too unsupported in the larger bra. Cupwise it means that either my cup runneth over or I have too much space and it looks like I forgot to stuff that morning.
B. I am in between pants sizes. So I can choose to have saggy-ass pants that I spend all day pulling up or a rather severe muffin top.
C. I am not currently in the in between phases of my jobs. I turned in my notice today and now have two weeks with which I try not to act incredibly stoked to be leaving my current job andnow get a few weeks of building anxiety because I get to re-experience the whole lack of confidence & competence feeling that everybody gets when they start a new job.
D. I am definitely in between phases in my life. There is something almost Rod Sterling-esque about going about town knowing there is another person living the life I had loved so much. And doing pretty well at it since she is now more into the scene than I am right now. Even when I remind myself that I was becoming disenchanted by all of that and it was losing its meaning for me anyway. There's just something unnerving about feeling utterly replaceable.

The thing about being in between is that it's a hard place to find a sense of comfort. Whether it be my bra or my pants or my life, I'm feeling like I'm suffering the three-bear syndrome except I'm only finding too hot and too cold, not just right. And not feeling just right is leaving me feeling just blah.

learning curve

So, that's how it's done.

senior citizen

Holy Christ...one of the most depressing things just happened. I was out walking Iniki, just a stroll to catch that witchy twilight hour that I don't usually get to see stuck down in the dungeon as I often am. And I see these two youngish (definitely of legal voting age, questionable drinking status) gals walking towards me. They're chattering away and we walk closer and closer to one another and as we are about to pass one another, one of them stops and says...
"Excuse me ma'am...we're looking for (blah blah blah, blah blah blah random party house)" I was aghast...she called me ma'am. Has is truly happened, have I stumbled over that hill of aging into the realm of ma'am-dom? I mean, I guess I'm not so worried if a twelve year old calls me ma'am...but a twenty year old? Fuck that shit.

pure genius

Portishead's Third is the most brilliant piece of music-making I have heard in a really long time. It is pure magic. I love it so much that I would give my virginity to it if I could.

on the table

I have been looking for some change in my work situation for a while. Mostly I just want to get on a day shift because I am mostly over the evening shift thing. It was cool when I was more into the party scene because I could go out all night and sleep in all morning. It was cooler when I only worked four days a week and had more flexibility. But now I feel as though I am missing out a little bit. I want to be able to take an ecodance class or a sewing class or go to a bar and play in a trivia tournament. I want to have weekends off and finally be able to spend Thanksgiving with my family for the first time in like 12 years.
At any rate, I went on an interview recently and went in today for a job offer. It was a good offer, I wouldn't lose any benefits, the vacation time is good, I'll get a bus pass...but I counter-offered for a slightly higher salary. It's the first time I've ever done that, normally I would just take a job. So now comes the waiting game, the woman who would negotiate is on vacation and hopefully she's checking her email. And I'm kinda geeked out because I do want the job. Other than a mild salary increase, the rest of the job looks pretty good. I had to do it though. The worst they can do is say no right?

meine mainfesto

I am who I am and that is somebody with a multitude of facets, some of which are inherently flawed. But if I were a diamond, I would be at minimum a VVS2.
I will not take more than I can give and conversely I will not give more than I can take.
I will find happiness in the mundane, I will find happiness in the extraordinary, I will find happiness.
I will not fit into anybody else's tidy box. I will peer into and appreciate the box somebody else has taken the time to fashion for themself, but I will never cut off my appendages in order to squeeze into the cardboard walls of what somebody else designed.
I will take all of the time I need. I would rather walk through life than race through it because you notice much more. None of it is irrelevant.
I will not expect it to be easy. The greatest rewards and the greatest learning come from having pushed yourself through something difficult.
I will honor my thousand chestnut trees. I am a mirror of the history of my ancestors. I will honor them in order to honor myself.
I will no longer engage in the hubris of thinking that I have surpassed a certain set of ideals. I will recognize that they may not be right for me but I won't look down on them with disdain. Sometimes it really feels okay to be normal and average.
I will allow myself to be a work in process.

take one

Yesterday, as I left the hellhole that is commonly referred to as work by the masses, I walked past this huge container of broken down boxes. As I flitted past I noticed a lone unbroken-down and empty box on top...
First, I was just amazed to have noticed the box because of the sheer volume of shit that it was with...but I stopped dead in my tracks and began to ponder...
What pray-tell had come in this box of Anger & Forgiveness? Why only 120 pieces? Is 120 how many we get over a lifetime or is there an ordering system where you get the 120 automatically shipped to you every two months? Are there 120 separate Angers, 120 separate Forgivenesses for a total of 240? Or do you have to mix and match the two until it adds up to 120? Is there maybe a bulk quantity that can be purchased at Costco or another warehouse supplier? Was there Anger & Forgiveness somewhere in my workplace that I could steal like people often steal office supplies?
All of these questions pummeling my already exhausted brain, but I walked over and really investigated the box. I looked at the recipient address and lo-and-behold...it wasn’t even sent to the hospital. It had been sent to some woman’s home in Redmond. Apparently she brought the empty box to the hospital to dispose of it. Did she not want the recycle man to know she buys her Anger and Forgiveness so she took it someplace else to throw it away like I throw away the shipping boxes from my favorite adult novelty store? Do they maybe have cheaper versions of this product at Amazon? How big exactly was the Anger & Forgiveness? Smaller than a bread basket? Bigger than a playing card? Did this lady keep all 120 for herself or is she planning on giving some of them to other people? Maybe mailing them with her Christmas newsletter at the end of the year?
And then I thought, maybe in keeping with my last blog post...maybe this was another message from the universe. So I took the box home...

can you hear me now?

The universe has been trying to tell me something lately, of that I am quite positive. And I’m trying to hear her, I really am. I give myself quiet time to pseudo-meditate and reflect and open up to the messages cosmically and comically being tossed at me. But I think I need a better service provider with clearer reception cause I am just not breaking the code. Is there a super-secret, hyper-magical decoder ring out there that I get by submitting my proofs-of-purchase of fifteen containers of Ovaltine per chance?

resurrection

Is it possible? Have I survived this mess? Might there be light at the end of the tunnel? Some days it feels like that may be true. Some days it feels like that may be a lie I'm telling myself because you can make anything feel normal, even a prison sentence. But life keeps moving and I am a survivor. I was telling somebody last night that yes we all have problems, and our problems always feel like the biggest and most important problems in the world...but truly, the only thing that will help us is having a positive outlook. So, lie to myself if I must, but dammit I'm getting through this and there will be rainbows.

dali

Sometimes life can feel so fucking surreal I almost begin to question whether or not it is a dream that I am living. So strange but always with the taint of normalcy, the happenstance feeding from the umbilical cord of intention, cloudy with confusion while simultaneously being blinded from the prisms of light bouncing off of what is so clear... The clocks are melting off of the walls into the painted desert sand and I stand in wonder at the beauty of it all. Because it is all beautiful, even when it isn't.

summation

My life feels like a series of cliches,
Not because of wisdom or any objective truth contained in those phrases,
But simply because of the utter sameness of our human condition.

are you experienced?

One of the wonderous things about life is how your experiences can define and redefine almost everything you think you know (though in a hypothetical and philosophical sense, my realization is that we really don't know much). The example of this that has been rampaging through my brain lately has been music. I've been listening to The Beatles for as long as I can remember, I think they might be my first real musical love, a huge leap considering my parents' love of disco and funk when I was a wee thing. And for as long as I have been listening to The Beatles, my favorite song has always been and continues to be Strawberry Fields. I feel like this song has been an old friend, standing beside me throughout my years. I've listened and relistened to this song forever and the other day, on the drive back from my mom's house, I was listening to this song again. My life and experiences up to this point changed the song on this particular listen and it was like I finally heard it for the first time. It was almost overwhelming how the meaning shifted so suddenly and after over twenty years of listening to Strawberry Fields, I have an even bigger attachment to it than I've ever had before. After listening to it possibly thousands of times, the beauty of the song and lyrics touched me in a new way because my experiences are different and now I am different, even if in barely detectable ways.

Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever

Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
Its getting hard to be someone, but it all works out
It doesnt matter much to me

Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever

No one, I think, is in my tree
I mean, it must be high or low
That is, you cant, you know, tune in, but its alright
That is, I think its not too bad

Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever

Always, no, sometimes, think its me
But, you know, I know when its a dream
I think, er, no, I mean, er, yes, but its all wrong
That is, I think I disagree

Let me take you down, cause Im going to
Strawberry fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry fields forever
Strawberry fields forever
Strawberry fields forever

crystal ball

I have often thought that one of my strengths is that I am an intuitive person. I like to think that I do fairly well at reading people and recognizing what it going on with them and how they will act and react. Lately though, I've wondered if that's always a good thing. Feeling like I have some sort of anticipatory power about people and what they will think and do lends itself to not allowing myself to enjoy the mystery and surprises of people and life. It also lends itself to more than a few assumptions. And frankly, when it is one of those things where I predict something not so positive (for myself at any rate), it doesn't necessarily feel good to be correct, even if it's in a small way. But it's a hard thing to let go of, the whole "Well, I certainly called that one" is a powerful force when we're often taught that only right and wrong can exist and who doesn't want to be the one who's right? But I think that the bigger conundrum for me is that sometimes I really want and maybe feel like I need to be proven wrong, I want to be shown that my cynicism is an invention of my imagination. And then when it isn't, I feel disappointed and that's never a good thing. But here I sit, feeling like I was correct about something and wishing I weren't.

dancer in the dark

Last night I went outside to indulge in the one vice I actually wish I didn't have whilst chatting on the phone. My balcony (for the next three days at least) overlooks a busstop. When I opened the door and walked out into the cold and rainy night, I noticed that there was a person with long blonde tresses wearing all black, including black headphones, standing under the busstop. Actually, standing is a misstruth. This tentative voyager was dancing like mad to whatever beat was pulsing through the headphones. He/she (I couldn't really tell) looked up at me as I looked down on zee and a brief moment of eye contact was achieved. The whole time and pretty much until the bus pulled up, this person danced and danced. She/he danced his/her ass off, all swiveling hips and waving arms and bouncing feet...I'm pretty sure zee was listening to the EDM. It was a pretty cool ending to an otherwise pretty unremarkable day.

proofs and theorems

Tying together an amalgamation of loose threads and thoughts...

There is no rebirth without death.
There is no death without pain.
Pain is inevitable, suffering is a choice.
We do not suffer alone.

Using basic and most likely flawed high school geometric theorems, we can then postulate that everybody will choose to be reborn. I choose to be reborn as a spidertail monkey. A tail seems much more useful than a healthy soul.

no more ms. nice guy

I've the spent the last few years being immersed in a specific genre of music and had to have the lovely random music selection process of iTunes to remind me that there is a whole wide world of music I love and have loved. Oh you riotgrrls of days yore...with your simple guitar riffs and banging drums bringing back the distant memory of sweaty, slamming bodies and releasing a primal scream that purifies the soul at the exact moment an elbow slams into your face and leaves you bloody. Welcome back, I missed you.

quicksand

Alas, I am still stuck in the mire of feeling sad, though it does get a little bit easier every day, though I'm not terribly sure that getting used to being lonely is a good thing. I'm moved into my new place and getting rid of some things to make way for some new things...with my apartment and with my life. They say that for every year of being in a relationship, it takes half of that time to fully recover...so I guess that means I have like nine months to go. But despite all of that I am trying to have a positive outlook and trying to remember that the pain of it all is all part of the human condition because I know that I don't walk down this road alone.

baggage

I fucking hate moving. That is all.

rights and fights

RAGE AND VENTING TO FOLLOW:
New Year's Eve ended up being awkward...not surprisingly. Though a friend of mine and a friend of (grimace) his thought to ask him not to show up to a certain party we had both planned on attending...he naturally erred on the side of self-interest and came anyway. Our friend however made it clear to him that he should in no way try to communicate or interact with me. Other than a really stupid hello, he managed to comply. And I managed to mostly ignore him, painful as it was. Though at the end there was a little drama. It was inevitable but luckily the "scene" I had anticipated was not as bad as it could have been. And frankly, there were moments when I purposely created awkwardness...just because I could.
So now here I am, feeling like I am exactly where I fucking started not quite two months ago when we first broke up. Because I tried to do the "right" thing. I thought that because our lives were so complicatedly intertwined, if I tried to be friends it would make it easier. I shouldn't have to give up the life I had before he and I were a we and dammit I was ready to take my life back, I NEEDED to take my life back. I thought that our working towards a friendship would make that easier. But all that happened was that I ended up feeling so fucking hurt. Again.
But dammit if there aren't pools of conflicting emotions swirling inside of me still. If there aren't still feelings of pure unadulterated sadness for not having him in my life. Even knowing that he should be stripped away like a malignant life-sucking cancer eating at my flesh...I still...miss him. Even knowing that the best thing for me right now is to acknowledge that he doesn't deserve anything from me, that I've lost so much respect for him now, that he believes himself to be somebody but all of his actions recently indicate that to be so fucking untrue...and to base my decisions on those feelings and not the others.
I know, I know. It's a hard road to walk down and things will get better, and I'm going to learn and grow and be a much better person. AND AND AND...
Seriously though, can't somebody just point me down the easy road, cause the other right one is just not the one I want to take anymore. The people who hop on the crazy train and do stupid, bitter, dramatic things to their exes seem to get a lot more satisfaction. I'm willing to go Jerry Springer y'all. I'm tired of being the better person doing the right thing. It's getting me nowhere except back where I started.