fuzzy edges

I'm into audiobooks again these days, played on my little pink pack of gum of an mp3 player. It's good that I have this thing--I fought for it--because again (this is getting old!) I'm without a computer at home for entertainment.

I am so repetitive. Adulthood fail, equipment fail, love, random, love. <-- nutshell.

In other news (this falls under 'love') I am so, so pleased with how well my heart is fed these days. I am spending more time more days a week with my best friend (we are recreating ourselves) and also I am still managing, somehow, to burrow even deeper into my lover. I feel like I'm a parasite sometimes. I take these people, these two for example who are the closest to me, and I stick to their skin and make my way into it. Boom, suck, stuck.

It's beginning to feel like spring today. Feeling like thunderstorms and mud. I am so glad! I have so much to be excited about in the next few months. The kind of excited that just... blurs me. I am so excited that I am vibrating, turning into a streak of color with fuzzy edges. Yes.

shurf

This is Sheriff Finchley. He sits on top of my work computer and protects me from evil gnomes.

Wednesday

What is on the schedj for today? Three more hours of work, an early release to go to the doctor of mine that is trying diligently to make me 'normal.' I'm yawning, didn't make coffee this morning. Perhaps once I'm home from the appointment I will take a nap in between the continued bouts of laptop wrestling. That sounds almost gratifying--the wrestling. It's almost always worth it. Then later I'll go put in some hours of quality quilting and qu... shit. I am too distracted for alliteration. It's an odd morning. Doesn't help that I feel as if I totally lost Tuesday. Boom, gone. If I think hard I can remember angry followed by yoga followed by I'm-so-lucky-my-best-friend-is-a-massage-therapist. At the end of that, I was alone. But connected to the internet! I fell asleep to the sounds of last week's episode of 30 Rock. I don't know about tonight.

still offended

I'm offended again today. This time by sniffling noises coming from the other side of the office, and the seal in the lid of my thermos coming loose. And by a two hour ice delay this morning (ENOUGH IS ENOUGH) but I mostly am offended by the death rattle of my charming laptop, whom I call Cap, and who has been a constant companion since I bought it used on ebay four years ago.

Sunrise, sunset.

I think there are only so many times before you can reinstal Windows before it's just not worth it. Next time I win the lottery a new computer is on the docket. Ha. Next time.

offended

I am
Offended
by the
Way Things Work.

I have never been able to convince the universe that it should be fair: no one should suffer the bone-on-bone grinding, no one should suffer unemployment, no one should be robbed of what is rightfully theirs. I can't get this through. Denial, denial, denial.

burnt

I blacked out today on the table with the needle in my vein. It hadn't happened before, so I am digging for a reason, something to blame. Perhaps I can blame it on the ferocious wind, which today was carrying a fire down from the sky. Tonight I could see it from S's back door, a jagged orange gash along the mountain. Instead of driving straight home I followed it, pointing my car toward the red glow in the western sky. I drove for five, ten miles. Enough that I was in a bath of smoke, thick like fog, and the heavy, full moon was had turned orange. I stopped my car and turned around. This is not a place for spectators. I should know this. I should be at home, willing my blood pressure to return to normal. Willing the wind to calm down, tame the embers. It's going to be a long night. 

working

I should probably take my pencil out of my mouth and get to work on all these old people microfiche pages.

scattered

My thumb is sore this morning because I spent several hours last night quilting with my mom. My wedding quilt. I am loving the colors and the fabrics and the in-out-in-out of the quilting needle. It is my trousseau, the marking of my territory. Worth the pricking.

I have a lot in my mind today. I'm thinking about the oldest member of the community band, who passed away over the weekend. He was always so kind, that man with the eight decades of music. Last summer his clarinet was still swinging away as a soloist when we played dixie music. I respect that. I'll never match it.

I came into work an hour and a half early today so I can leave in time for a dentist appointment. Ugh. It's something to dread, something to do. I've never neglected them, but my teeth don't trust me. They betray me. And sometimes I have moments in the chair when the dentist makes a racist joke and I can only think of horses, horses, horses.

I'm in debt, relational debt. It's always been a problem. Taking, delaying the giving until it's too late. Payment refused. I have been amazed over and over by how patient my friends seem to be with me. Perhaps it's because they couldn't be my friends if they weren't. I'm so scattered and strange. It takes a stout heart to keep waiting after my bursting while I gather myself back together.

Oh what else. I have been breathing chocolate and spooning on a couch. Lifting weights, selling my bodily fluids for grocery money. Coaxing continued life out of my seizurey computer, avoiding Thursdays. Not so bad.

love letter

I love the warm brown of your eyes with that quiet ring of green, like a strand of ivy. Or maybe it's mistletoe.
You have this LOOK you give me when you're telling me you love me--I'm not sure if you even realize it's written so plainly on your face. It just floods out of you. It's a vulnerable sort of love look; it's like possession tempered by gratitude and reverence tempered by bliss.
It's a comfortable fire.
You had this look aimed at me when you proposed, and the incredible earnestness that fills your every interaction with me was right there at the heart of it, right there in your eyes. Is it any wonder I was always going to fall into your arms, say yes, start making plans to give you everything I have?
The hardest part of loving you is knowing that I haven't earned you. There's nothing in me that sets me apart and makes me worthy of the fiery, certain love you give me. And so what can I do but set about trying to believe in things like unconditional love and forgiveness and fate? And dig my heels into loving you back as best I can, and mirroring your 'I'll never give up on you' with my own.
Believe me, there is no place in this world more suited to me than your arms, no thing more precious to me than this steady gaze of yours. You are the best man I know and I am forever grateful that out of all the girls in the world, I'm the one on the receiving end of that brown-eyed look.
This love of yours... hoo boy. It's big.

coward-ass

I keep having this problem: I am a coward, and the way this looks from the outside is: I am apathetic.

Or, damnit, maybe these are kind of the same thing.

just so

Yes! To the muscles in my arms! And cardboard boxes! Yes! To slooowly, slooowly, working through the pain of a steady stream of (self-magnified) ego pokes. I will learn to release this. Yes to repairing the old instead of replacing it with new! Oranges! Clean sheets! Support!
I am sleepy this morning--it's hard to last through five days of a busy week sometimes--but I am feeling content. Content implies quietness, though. I am not that kind of content. I am sort of a slapped kind of content. I am startled, blinking into the sunlight. Allofasudden it's Friday, and I am thrilled! to be getting closer to spring! and to be able to spend this evening with S! and to be human!
I am having a spell of WTF IS UP WITH THIS LIFE BEING SO GOOD? Just WHAT?

missing

I know that there isn't actually a hostage situation going on in the basement bathroom with the house plant, but I sure do like to pretend.

still true

I'm surprised
you don't feel
the air around you
tighten
when I walk into the room.

What I mean is,
I wish
I knew enough of physics
to describe
how much

you are a vortex.

tacos de fabuloso

On Friday S and I went out for Mexican food. I always eat the food too quickly. It's too good, I'm too hungry, the frozen margarita is too beguiling. It is all at once. We sat this time in a booth in the far back room and it was alive the whole time. We shared the space with a dozen drunk, maybe, 19-year olds on their way to an 80's prom, trussed up and over done. I think they assumed they'd be the life of the restaurant, that they'd be the loud ones. But they were bested--and this just made me so damn fond of humankind and all its shapes and sizes--by the table to their right: a surprise party being thrown by a large group of exuberant middle-aged gay men. 'Oh honey, I have BEEN to an 80's prom!! IN THE 80's!' I think this would be a fantastic demographic for throwing surprise birthday parties. I liked how both tables joined in to sing happy birthday and I liked how the volume just kept raising. It's always a competition. I didn't stop smiling the whole meal. S, me, incredibly good tacos and margaritas, spray-tanned and crimped college kids, and big voiced and big spirited gay men. I mean. It was an entertaining Friday night. I wished I knew all of their names.

social being

How do I weigh I really want to spend all of today curled up at home with my niggling suspicion that this is cowardice? I am having to choose between pajama pants and sneakers. At what point does it become good for a limitedly social being to start forcing herself to say Yes? I mean, it would have to be a choice, because if I were following my natural inclinations I'd most definitely be saying No.
I have no answers. Honestly, I'm still regaining my balance after realizing not too long ago that 'I just prefer my own company' is no longer true. That was quite a shake-up.
One thing at a time.

this week

This week I have been petty and sweaty and I have been a blabbermouth. I have been fixated on routine, cage fighting, and financial planning. I've had my hands crushed in firm handshakes and have had to sit on them to keep from reaching out to destroy. I have misused my free time and have bruised my lover's spirit, have arrived at the checkout line in the grocery store without my wallet. I have eaten a lot of frozen burritos.
I have been left with less than I expected after all this, but that's ok.

cheese and 5:30

Perhaps I'm growing jaded. There's a bound journal with an unfamiliar title on my desk today-- SIGCSE Bulletin-- and I am patently not curious as to what the SIGCSE stands for. I printed the request slip for an article from this journal, walked to the stacks, brought back the correct volume, and am going to forward the requested research on to the patron, all without so much as looking in the frontmatter of the journal to see what exactly sort of material I'm handling. I don't care. I wonder when I stopped being so curious.

Maybe it's just today. Today, all I want (instead of knowledge and comprehension) is cheese, and 5:30 pm. You?