Saturday, May 23, 2009

Power of Positive

Reading a Cosmo that someone left at work the other day, I came across that one article that they publish every three or four issues about being lucky.
Power of Positive Thinking Everyone!
And that typo I just made, that one where I typed "Power or Positive Thinging?"
That's much more exactly what I'm going to try for the mo'.
Positive things for the day? Cleaning the house, doing the dishes, looking good when I go to work.
Maybe I'll buy some flowers for the table too.
I'm hoping that positive things will make me happier without changing my situation in any real way. I am happier when I come home to a clean house.
It makes me more confident, where if I don't have a clean house, I feel like I'm hiding something. I can't bring someone home without some warning. This way my house is presentable for everyone all the time.

Ok, here's a little secret: Since it's Memorial Day Weekend a lot of people have gone away, and all the people who hadn't gone away were doing other things last night, so I just watched a movie and went to bed. Thinking negatively, that makes me very sad about the state of my Friday. I'm trying to think about it as simply another day. That would have been a completely nice Tuesday. No reason for Friday to have that connotation that I have to drink and socialize and "Party" even though I feel better about myself and feel better in the morning when I, you know- Don't.

Anyway, that's the plan. I'd better get to cleaning the fridge now, so I have enough time to get pretty for work!

Friday, May 15, 2009


In fairytales they always tell you when you have wishes. Very explicitly, even.
"Now, I will grant you THREE WISHES!"

I think it would be much more fun if they didn't tell you.
Today I was in the kitchen fixing a snack, and I said to myself, "Where is that canned fruit? Oh yeah. I ate it."
I puttered around some more looking in the refrigerator and the cabinets and said,
"I wish I had more canned fruit."



I wonder how many more I have to go?

Monday, May 11, 2009

Worry. I has it.

I am feeling bad, right in the middle of my stomach right now. Not sick. That wouldn't be remarkable, but this isn't sickness it's guilt? I think. Guilt for what?
I don't really know why. Maybe it's worry? Am I worried about my job, and the fact that it is so frustrating? Maybe. Yes. I am. I am also worried about my two classes other than Psychology. I am worried that I wrote a really bad essay for my Judaism class, and I don't know what I got on my Latin American music midterm, but I bet it wasn't very good. I have that feeling.
I feel worried about what I am going to do this summer, I am worried that Stephen, who used to be a good friend of mine, but who I haven't seen in two weeks, will become one of those people that I can't even talk to anymore because we suddenly stopped talking, and it's been too long and we just can't manage to start talking again.
That worries me.

There are some things I'm looking forward to, though. I am looking forward to seeing Lael this weekend. I am always looking forward to going home and snuggling with my cat. I am really looking forward to seeing Rebecca and spending a few days in that weird different world of Rebecca-dom. I think maybe I will just go talk to Meredith, then go to bed and wake up tomorrow when everything is better. Maybe?

Thursday, May 7, 2009


My strong suit? Not really, especially not in the realm of relationships with other people. Those are illogical to the extreme.
i.e. Last night I saw a friend I hadn't seen in a while. Really, we aren't that close at all. He was holding hands with a girl. I had no idea he was dating someone! (Public handholding points to that, right? I haven't been single so long that I've forgotten everything about dating right?) Not that I care, I'm glad he's happy. But damn it! If he's got a girlfriend...

Does everyone else I know have secret girlfriends too?

And then my other friend has this lab partner. We always knew that he liked her, but my friend seemed pretty apathetic. And yesterday, what do I find? There has been kissing. Now, I don't know about hand-holding but I'm pretty sure I remember something about kissing.

Again, I am thrilled for her. Just... surprised.

So now logic follows that since these two people have secret (from me) little lovers that the young man for whom I hold a small flame must have a secret girlfriend. That is why I haven't heard from him in a week. Obviously. Not because he has ridiculous amounts of studying to do, not because of midterms. Secret Girlfriend!

Because that's how logic works, right?

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

If I were going to go crazy,

If I were going to go crazy, I think a fun thing to do would be this;
This requires having children.
I would find a mommy blogger with kids roughly the same age and gender and read their blog religiously. I think it would be better to start in the archives for this anyway.
Then, having internalized all the information, live out their life completely as my own.

I mean, not really. Just tell everyone that I was.

Following me? Yeah, probably not.
I mean- When I call my parents to report on the status of my own children, tell them what is going on in blogger world. "Child A said the cutest thing, _____." "Child B still isn't sleeping very well..."
This also applies to status of marriage (or dating, or singletude, whatever) house remodels, possibly even work related stuff.
Right now I'm reading Mir,, and for her I'd also tell anyone I was talking to about the great clearance items I've picked up, maybe even medical procedures I didn't actually have.
Completely false life based on someone elses.
Hell, I wouldn't even need kids. Not if the people I was talking to were distant enough.
I think it would be a cool performance art piece too. In fact, it could start out as performance art, and be so strange and unsettling that it turns me crazy and I do it for real.
Probably the best way to work it.

Thursday, April 16, 2009


Have I ever been terrified of sending an IM message before? I don't think so... There's a certain someone on my buddy list who I have a little crush on and I do get butterflies sometimes when I really want to say hello, but I really don't have an excuse for the contact, you know? That rush of "aack! What will he think?" when I press the send key? Sometimes by accident, because I've decided not to but it's habit?
That is not what I'm talking about. I'm talking about terrified. Genuinely scared. "What will I say?" That's a viable question to worry about, I guess. It is not the question I am asking. I already know how to start the situation. I'm going to start it with "Hey"
In fact, here's the first few lines.
Me :Hey
(10 seconds)
You: Hey.
(See the period there? I left it openended. You made it final. Nice, jerk.)
Me: So... How are you?
(I'm giving in. Like I gave in by messaging you first. I am a failure.)
You: Fine
(Jerk. Asshole.)
(20 seconds. I'm not accepting that shit from you, my ... friend)
You: -Begin to fill the silence. -
And that's as far as I've got because to be perfectly honest, I have no idea how this guy is. I know that his answer probably won't give me any explicit details, but other than that I have no guess.
And so I sit here, warring with myself. Mousing over the side of my screen so that by buddy list comes out. Wanting to see him on it. Definitely feeling better when I don't see him there. I did say he could make the first move, but we all know I'm probably not anywhere near strong enough for that.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Macro/Micro Existential Crisis

A light went out in the distance, quietly, without commotion, explosion. Why did a light go out? I thought, unhurried. Once a light goes out it does not turn back on. There is plenty of time.
I look out into the vastness, at the countless lights I can see, nearby and in the distance, and to the patterns, swirling, infinite, of lights which are too far away to distinguish.
I might not have noticed that one solitary light disappearing into the black, among so many others still burning strongly, but I have time to look. I have enough time.
There will be no great change in the sky now that that light is no longer with us. There are so many, each one so small and insignificant.
As I think about that light, now missing, if not missed, I watch my own personal timekeepers as they fly around my being, quickly, never pausing. One, two three, the nearest one flits. Slower, the outer rings drift. They have only passed by a few times when I decide. It is important to me to know why that light went out.
I begin to prepare myself to communicate.

Without looking at the paper the graduate student hands me, I stuff it into my bag, not wanting to compare my score with the eager participants on either side. I will read the comments, written in green ink to avoid bruising my precious young ego, once I am alone. I stand up to leave, swinging my bag over my shoulder, smoothing out my rumpled sweater and see the bus at the bus stop, nearly empty. I could board it, ride it home, retreat to my own room, a quiet womb free of people who expect me to know what it is that I want to do with my life. Hoards of students with majors, plans, aspirations flow by me on their way forward. Everyone seems to be moving forward.

We are warm. We feed here in the warm darkness, all together. It is comfortable. We are comfortable. Now we eat. Soon we breed, then we will become more. We are already many. We like it here.
My feelers cling to the fibers which I know well. I have not been here long, but I am one of many, and this place of dark warmth is as familiar to me as it was to my father and my fathers father. We stay generation after generation. We like it here. We are warm, the fibers are soft and good to cling to and there is plenty of food. I see more food over there. My brothers shift to allow me to reach it. We are content.

I begin to communicate. My awareness stretches out toward the space where the light once shown. There are are other lights nearby. I direct my consciousness to them.
“Why” I begin. It is not polite to communicate quickly, and so I pause, letting the farthest time keepers drift by me again and again. I continue
“does that light no longer glow?” I can tell that the other lights understand. They do respond yet. Things happen slowly here.
As I wait for my answer I look out to my timekeepers. Sometimes it is hard to concentrate on something so close, it is much easier to look beyond them, but I enjoy them as they circle me. They do not communicate, they are too small, but I feel as though we understand one another. They keep me company while I wait.

I pass by the bus stop, resisting the temptation, and continue on to my next class. I find a seat near the back, I am early and the room is nearly empty. With a sigh I retrieve the essay and turn it over. That is not my name. This is not my paper, but everyone is gone now. I will have to wait until tomorrow to correct the error. “Scientists Observe Death of a Star.” I read it while I wait.

A cold sweeps through the warm fibers. My tendrils wrap and grasp, clinging on to my dark home now threatened for the first time I remember, my father or my fathers father remembers. As the fibers once again settle, I look around and see that many of my brothers are no longer beside me. Thought I am not alone, for the first time there is space between myself and my family. Too much space. We huddle together, a momentary pause in our life of eating, breeding and feeling the warm darkness. The cold and the dangerous movement begin again and my tendrils come loose. I am flung upward, a direction of which I was not previously aware. My claws catch on more fibers and hold on. My brothers are far below.

I have come to understand that many lights do not have timekeepers. Perhaps they do not desire them. My own desire for the comfort they provide, circling me endlessly, marking the passage of time, draws them to me, keeps them near. Perhaps the lonely lights do desire company, but the timekeepers do not desire them. I am grateful. I am humble. I count them again. One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight... Nine. The ninth timekeeper is shy, he hides at the outskirts of my love but I smile my warmth at him anyway. I wonder if he feels it, sometimes.
I continue to wait.

I read the paper twice, ignoring the incorrect punctuation and the awkward sentence structure and concentrating instead on the miracles contained within, which I have not taken the time to think about in so long. In this quickly filling lecture hall it seems as though I am quite large. I fill an entire seat. When other people climb over me to reach their friends in the center of the room, my legs feel awkwardly long and I tuck them away under my chair to make more room, but I have been reminded that I am in fact very very small. 100 light-years away a star died. Compared to that, what am I?

I look down at my brothers who managed to cling to the fibers. They have returned to their lives, eating, breeding, enjoying the warmth. I could climb down to them. I could join them, and resume my place in the world. It would be difficult, but possible, I think. From above I can see that there are other families like mine. As far as my sensors can detect there are more fibers, more food and more like me. I turn around, surveying a vast world I had never experienced before. I could climb down to my brothers, but instead I turn away, to explore and to discover.

I feel the lights in the distance, I feel them begin to answer.
“The light” They pause, and I watch my friends spin.
“ran out of fire. It had to stop.” I understand. I can feel it inside of me, the fuel that I burn in order to glow. I have plenty. I will continue to glow. The light in the distance did not, and will not.
After we stop burning are we simply gone? I do not know. I do not think so. I am comforted that I will continue to watch my timekeepers for many more rotations. I send my warmth out to them. I imagine that I can feel them smile. They are beautiful and they are mine.

I feel as though the world and I are reaching some kind of understanding.

The dark warmth is comforting but as I move forward, in a direction I have come to associate with up I am beginning to feel myself die. My reality becomes colder and lighter the farther I climb. Even though I will die I will discover what lies beyond the warm fibers. I believe that there is something beyond the warmth and the darkness. I believe that I will reach it and then I will know.

I have accepted the space now. There used to be a light there and now there is not. There used to be a light everywhere, and if they all continued thru out time there would not be enough room to shine at all. It is very crowded here. If I concentrate I can see things even smaller than my tiny timekeepers filling up the spaces between the lights. It is more comfortable to look out at the far lights and accept the illusion of space that they give. Perhaps it is good that there is one less. There are so many things.

I have read the essay seven times now, and have not heard a single word from the professor standing in front of me with his projector and bullet points. I can identify the feeling that I have been trying to grasp for so many months now, as I wavered and remained undecided about what I wanted to do with my life. I am feeling crowded. There are too many things in this world, crowding me out and making me claustrophobic. The sciences they study here, with their atoms and microscopes just make the world seem even smaller than it is already. It is obvious what I was missing. I pick up my sweater which has fallen to the ground and shake it as I walk out of the class. I feel sorry for offending the professor, but I know what I have to do. It is time to turn my face up, away from the ground and away from the world. I need more room. It is time to turn to space, where there is room to stretch out in between the few but fascinating things.

My body gets weaker the farther I climb. It is so cold. I pass by food that my family will never eat but I do not have the energy to stop and enjoy it. The light is becoming blinding. I rely on my feelers alone to find fibers to climb. My body reacts against the cold as I finish my ascent and feel something beyond fiber food and brother. I stretch out my feelers, experiencing the rest of the world. My claws release their grip on the fiber. As I expire I grasp the emptiness of the world beyond that that I have know.

There is nothing.

Friday, March 6, 2009

Sometimes things are in disarray. Sometimes the tutu, which sat so nicely on the lamp, making the room glow rosily whenever someone leaned all the way over the couch to turn on that particular lamp, falls off, landing halfway on the Buddha in the corner. Sometimes it becomes necessary to clean.
I thought, sitting on the couch, the selfsame one over which a person would have to lean to pick up the fallen tutu, remove it from the table in the corner, from the right leg of the Buddha, from its accidental resting place. I thought about all the things that need to be done and the fact that I am not doing them. Not one single solitary one. Not going to class, not doing the dishes, not even getting dressed, not really.
And on that couch, that selfsame couch, I came to the conclusion that I could give one succinct reason for not doing any of the things that I really should be doing instead of looking at my messy apartment, my ballerina Buddha and my inside-out pajama pants. I can excuse them all with one simple want, desire and fact. I do not want to be wet.
To say that dryness is my one desire would be, of course, false, and would, in fact, prove, if true, that I was completely content. Here, on this couch, I have succeeded in dryness, succeeded completely. However, this state would be compromised by any of those things that I need to do, want to do, have to do. As follows; in order to get dressed, first I would have to shower. Wet. If, say, I were to decide that I could get away with not showering for a few more hours, and wanted to go to class in the state that I am in, I would need to go outside. Into the rain. Which is wet. But without leaving this room, without wearing anything different, I could begin to clean, starting with the dishes, which need to be cleaned in the sink, with a sponge and warm faucet water, which has the tendency to splash, all over my makeshift pajamas. Leaving me, as it seems is unavoidable, wet. And that, simply can not be born. I’m sure you understand.
There is one thing, though, which it seems I can rectify without breaking any of the statutes of limitation with which I have trapped myself. And so I stand, carefully, to avoid spilling any of the cups piled so precariously on the coffee table, or any coffee on the cup table, step onto the nice white couch with my slightly dusty bare feet and return the tutu to its rightful, if accidental, home atop the lamp in the corner by the Buddha, so that, if anybody asks, I have accomplished something today, after all.