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November 29th, 2009

09:10 pm - you're my sister Rose, the same It's been a wonderful 4 days (Thanksgiving weekend). On Thursday morning we did a family run in Edison Park: Em ran a 50 yard dash and then all of us did a 5K (Em rode in her new jogging stroller). This morning she and I did another run. Well, first we made jello jigglers. For me, this almost counts as creative gourmet cooking. We managed to cut out every shape from our Christmas set of jigglers. She was very excited and gobbled up a bunch of the leftover jello in the bowl. While the jello was hardening in the fridge, me, my girl, and the stroller went on a (very easy) 4 mile run. She did parts of the last mile with me. It was a little chilly but we had fun. Lately the girl's vocabulary, which has always been good, seems to have exploded. She's also started saying "I lub you" a lot. So freaking cute. We've had some rain recently so as I pulled in to the parking lot for the forest preserve I said: "No flooding!" Then I said, "Emily, say "no flooding!" She did. A few minutes later when I was getting her out of the car she asked "Mommy why did I say that?" "Say what?" I asked. "Make those sounds you told me to." So I explained what "No flooding" meant. Luckily, the trails were not flooded. Very late this afternoon I went up to my room to read, and she followed me. "I want to watch you." After several minutes she fell asleep on my legs, and was actually down for the night. My darling precious girl. Current Mood: calm

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November 13th, 2009

10:31 pm - are you on fire? Dear folks who passionately hate the proposed health care plan: Explain to me why, exactly, you are against it. Try not to use the words "nazi," "socialism," "communism," or "facism" unless you can demonstrate that you actually know what they mean, and can place them in proper historical context. Here is a hint, "communist nazis" is typically considered a contradiction in terms, and does not apply to Mr. Adolph. Try also to avoid "facts" that have nothing to do with healthcare, such as "Obama was never born" or "Tea parties produce no litter" or "because I am an ignorant hater." While that last statement might be true, it's really not a good reason, is it? No, it's not. Try also to reflect, for a moment, on reasons that you read over chain mail before passing them on. See if they really, honestly, sound sensical. Do you really think the healthcare bill is going to offer million dollar coverage for illegal immigrants who practice cannibalism on white children who plan to use all the money towards tattoos made of cocaine at the expense of the church goin' natural born war vet who got cancer from reading about the inauguration? Come on . . . .really? If you believe that for reals, and you're old enough to have read it on your own, then I gotta say - lucky for you breathing is involuntary. Try to back up claims that the plan will kill people with actual reasons - sorry, medical, economical, or general health related reasons - why this will be the case. Folks that you and your friends personally gun down in protest should not count towards your body total. First off, killing people isn't nice, remember? Secondly, if you personally are responsible, then it kinda weakens your argument, right? Oh yeah, the plan also is not responsible for, nor a result of, gays getting married. Those thoughts might be connected in your mind somehow, I know. But logical connections need a little more - um, connection - than "both things make me pee funny." You do get some points, though, for trying to use your OWN thoughts, though, as opposed to vaguely remember something you heard from the middle-aged guy standing on a dias. So - go on, tell me what's leading to the hatin'. Before you say "I don't like paying for someone else's healthcare," think about the fact that you are currently paying for someone else's school (I know a good American like you pays taxes), and you have been for a long, long time. You knew that, right? Unless you also passionately hate public schoolin' - for EXISTING, dumbass, not for quality - then this is a weak argument. Here is one final personal request, which you can feel free to ignore, but I'm going to try anyway. Don't pretend "I love my country" communicates ANYthing meaningful, other than your own personal patriotism. I assume the vast majority of Americans at least LIKE their country. I assume undocumented immigrants at least like this country too, and that's why they came here. I need to be reminded that you love your country about as much that I need to hear that you love orgasims or you love pizza. I am fond of those things too. Can you do me a favor and just skip over that (typically repeated) sentence? If you do use it, I'm just going to replace the word "country" with the word "orgasim" just for amusement because - really - I do assume you love both - mostly becase I do too. If "orgasim" offends you then I'll replace "country" with "mom" and giggle furiously if you make the statement more than twice. Okay, then. Lookin forward to the discourse. Current Mood: annoyed

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September 5th, 2009

10:32 pm - i guess that's the point of it all I've been on a re-arrange anc consolidate kick lately. It's very delayed, seeing as we moved into the house, um . . . 6(?) years ago now. Funny, because whenever I moved into a new apartment I'd hit the ground running with my organization/decorating/embellishing/shelf-and-picture hanging, etc. Here, I did a little bit of that, but mostly threw stuff down, unpacked necessities and tried to adequately fill the space, and saved the rest for later. Well, it's well past "later." And we still have several billion bookcases in the basement bound together with clear moving wrap, and twice as many billion boxes of unpacked books. I have photos wrapped and packed in boxes that are god knows where, and until only a couple weeks ago had a collection of small wood shelves nesting in the corner on the floor of my room, where I had thrown them approximately a month after we moved in. My birth-sign-homebody side of me is ashamed. I'm not sure why I've taken so long to organize here. Maybe I was overwhelmed with the amount of space I had to fill. Maybe I figured that I had something akin to the rest of my life to decorate the house, so why hurry? Maybe I was tired and busy and had other things to do. At any rate, I can tell you what started the recent trend: we were having a party, and I wanted to straighten up just one thing - the CD's cluttering the area behind the television (unofficially known as "the dining room" according to the homebuilder's floorplan). That branched into setting up shelves, heavy, HEAVY dusting, dead plant removal, and finally finding a home for a large iron candelebra that's been lurking awkwardly for several years. I've got to say, the house looked more - well - styled - that it has in a long, LONG time. Now I am moving furniture in order to accommodate more baby toys, and to get rid of an oversized dresser that has long outstayed it's welcome. Ideally I should do some painting but gads the thought of it makes me cringe. One step at a time I guess. So, here's to my house, and it's never ending stream of projects that I've finally decided to begin to tackle. Good luck to the both of us. Current Mood: crazy

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September 2nd, 2009

10:06 pm - there's a monkey in the basement Sigh. Today was my beautiful girl's 3rd year check up. She got a couple shots, which she found hurtful and traumatic. I'll admit I'm higher on the "coddle" end of the scale than the "not coddle" end. But I feel like I used to know where to draw the line. Since Micha died, though, I have no idea. She cries hysterically over something, and all I can think is - we turned her world on it's head and one of her little baby friends died. How is she processing this? What is she feeling? What is it like? Because to ME, it is HORRIBLE. I have no idea what it's like to her. I know she knows Micha was at the doctor. How much does she associate him with all doctors? How abused does she feel by getting a shot? She couldn't even talk to her daddy about the appointment - even the nice parts of it - without crying. And not whiny-crying - crying like her heart was broken. We get to go back for a booster flu shot in a month. And possibly a swine flu shot. That should be awesome. I feel so awful for her. But I wish I knew if she was just normal levels of little kid upset or not. If this is normal then so be it. But what if she's got some deep sorrow and her ability to cope right now just isn't very strong? How in the hell do I help with that? Bleah. :( I'm lucky - I still have my crying kid. I'm not complaining. I wish I knew what to do. In unrelated to my daughter rambling - I hate selfishness. Hate it. I wish I could banish it completely. Fricking. Hate. It. Current Mood: distressed

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August 21st, 2009

09:44 pm - Love with no warning You know it's love when . . . . I chopped fruit tonight and baked a cake. And am in agony that I am short 3 eggs and cannot also make cupcakes tonight as well. Okay, it's cake from a box. And ready made frosting. And the cupcakes will also be from a box. And chopping fruit is - well - chopping fruit. It requires you to be able to hold a knife and no additional skills. For me, this is the height - pinnacle - of kitchen domesticity. And I did it for her, and am glad to do it for her, and am grateful she exists to provide me with the chance to chop some fruit. I love you, Em. Should you ever want to recreate the moment for yourself, little girl, I listened to Pokerface, Chains, the Train Song, and Just Dance while doing it. On repeat, of course. Happy almost birthday, my darling girl. Current Mood: loved

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July 2nd, 2009

04:49 pm - they told him don't you ever come around here It's been a week, and I have to admit I'm still shocked Michael Jackson is dead. Maybe not shocked, more like I just don't even believe it. I'm not old enough to remember anything about the Jackson 5. The first time I ever heard about Michael Jackson, I was in acting class. Our teacher at the park district told us that he had made an album and was going to be popular. I think one of the other kids in my class had done a dance routine to "Beat It." My first copy of "Thriller" was a copied cassette - I think I copied it off of my neighborhood friend, Chrissy. If I remember correctly, "Beat It" was the single before "Thriller." I loved "Beat It." I sang every stinkin' note in the song and made up the lyrics I couldn't catch. I loved Michael Jackson. I cut his picture out of every newspaper and magazine I could find. My mom gave me a bulletin board and I was constantly re-arranging my photos to get them to look just right. I kissed some of them every night. When "Thriller" came out - the single I mean, and the video - kids in my class had sleepovers centered around watching the mini-movie. At one I went to we also watched 'The making of' video, and screamed at the 'scary parts.' Vincent Price was so scary! The zombies were so scary! And we all had brothers/friends/cousins who could totally dance like that. On the playground, we argued whether PTY was worth liking simply because Michael sang it, or if it was a bad song since it was so un-dancable. We were impressed he did a duet with one of the Beatles, and they used to be REALLY famous, our parents said as famous - more famous - than Michael. We wondered what the heck "the kid is not my son" meant, and if Billie Jean was male of female (hey - we were little Catholic school kids - what the heck did we know?). We tried and tried and tried and tried to copy the moonwalk. Those who did were instantly more popular. We dressed like him. A couple girls in my class had red jackets that looked just like his. We wore jumpsuits, sequins, crazy socks. We talked about him, sang along with him, watched him enraptured not even understanding how good of a dancer he was. We thought our parents were so uncool for saying his voice sounded like a girl's. This was the 80's - of course boys sounded like girls - duh! Who cared! Plus we were all tiny gradeschoolers who sounded alike anyway. He sounded like us I guess. For a brief time, Michael wasn't a singer. He wasn't a performer. He WAS pop culture. He was everything - the center of my 'trying to figure out what was cool' world. He went to the White House. He gave to charity. He helped out kids, just like me. As I grew up, he got less famous, more eccentric, and went through a lot of trouble. But by then I'd stopped paying attention, and still thought of him as the super-performer-god locked in my impressionable grade school brain. I am pretty sure that very large parts of his life sucked. I am pretty sure that he spent a lot of time feeling lonely and miserable. I guess I can accept that what he grew into is gone. But that god - the social phenomenon - the singer/dancer/video star/celebrity/fashion icon/ most coolest most popular person ever - that king that he was to me and all my friends when I was a little girl - I can't believe that person was capable of dying. I really, really hope someone loves his kids and is good to them. Current Mood: disappointed

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July 1st, 2009

10:51 pm - i wanna be sedated I had all 4 wisdom teeth removed yesterday. It wasn't the most fun or pleasant experience, but I'm fine. My little girl has been told several times now that mommy is ouchie and to not touch mommy's face, and yesterday mommy was resting and couldn't play with her. Today Em said "Mommy, I'm going to laugh really loud and that make your ouchies go away." So she did - first she went "ehhhhhh!" and then "hahahahahahaha!" quite loudly. This made me smile (as much as my swollen, sore face allowed) and giggle quite a bit. I'm not sure where she got the idea from, but I'm chalking it up to My Neighbor Totoro. I'm sorry she feels weird/upset on my behalf. But oh my goodness is she a sweetheart. Current Mood: amused

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June 28th, 2009

10:30 pm - i freaked out very very badly . . . I "did pilates" tonight - meaning I followed along to a couple parts of a new DVD I bought. I have never experienced pilates before and am thinking a DVD is not the way to go for first exposure. It was challenging for me because I am not very coordinated and it takes me a long time to pattern something into my body. Pilates, like all movement, also seems to assume that people typically have working hamstrings, which I guess many people do, but I am not one of them. I am following up my very brief movement (I capped it off with a couple yoga stretches) by listening to A Daisy Chain 4 Satan. Go MLWTTTK! I am so impressed with how zen/anti-zen I am. That is partial sarcasm, yes. For the past several weeks while I've concentrated on running - and I have to say I've done more dedicated running on this training plan than I previously EVER have - I've neglected other workouts. I typically feel good when I alternate running and yoga. I haven't regularly done yoga for over a month. Funny, I honestly thought of the yoga as not doing anything, but I think I'm losing some tone. I mean, I am pretty damn sure I have and I want it back. So I'm trying to work yoga back in I guess. But my training plan right now is typically 5 days a week running, and I unfortunately often give up one of those days for work. Bah. Not sure how I'm going to do this, guess super-woman will find some sort of way. Current Mood: curious

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June 20th, 2009

09:08 pm - all I'm saying, pretty baby I'm tired and sunburned. And cranky. And annoyed. My weight has been up by 3 or 4 lbs for the past few days and I'm pissed. I'm running harder than I pretty much ever have, and more consistently. In fact if anything I'd say I'm running more and yoga-ing less so maybe my muscles are doing something wierd. BAH. It's annoying as all hell, though. Happily, Em - who was in the sun with me - seems to have her dad's skin. She's tan-ish, not burned. Thank goodness for her. And now I'll also be nervous for the next 3 weeks that no one will come to our BBQ. I need my co-planner to distribute the link to his people. Maybe I'll watch something on hulu. Or go to bed. I want wine. Whine whine whine. Current Mood: weird

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June 2nd, 2009

10:38 pm - we dare to breathe here are some more items that are true: 23. Body parts of mine that I like: eye color, hair (most of the time), skin (most of the time), shoulders, legs, back. 24. Body parts of mine with which I have issues: butt, hips, tummy pouf, teeth, feet (sometimes). 25. Body parts of mine I rarely think about: boobs, arms, collarbone, knees, elbows, ears. 26. I was taught to avoid conflict. Typically, I will deny a problem exists until it either drives me to my breaking point, or until I can flee from it. 27. I am in touch with virtually no one from my childhood. Generally, this is fine with me. 28. One of my biggest goals in life was to create a normal, typical, average home with a large-ish, close-ish family. I wanted to blend in with suburban midwestern American. 29. I feel as though I am constantly evolving and becoming whole. 30. When I think about it, which is almost never, I am amazed at my own strength. 31. I've only learned within the past couple of years what it means to 'take care of yourself.' 32. As a result of #31, food is now tastier and I can sense and enjoy different flavors. My favorite foods right now are "Thai" and "Indian." 33. I never, EVER, thought I would be a runner. I am not 'really' a runner, meaning I am not enviably fast, but I run regularly. When I admit this, it feels like I am talking about someone else. 34. When I think about the food I used to eat and the activity I used to get, I am amazed I was not very overweight. 35. I have precious little use for organized religion. I am not against it, I just don't understand how it is useful to an intelligent person. 36. I have even less use for video games. Imagine my surprise when I found out Wii is fun. 37. I mostly believe that arts can and do change the world. 38. I am very afraid of doctors and I'd describe myself as phobic towards hospitals. 39. I am embarrassed by how squeamish I am. 40. I'm still very shy at heart. 41. The world needs to calm the hell down. Bad moods are selfish and immature. Yes, when I am in a bad mood, I am being selfish and immature. I do not find selfishness and immaturity or negative energy to be desirable states of being. 42. I will not force my opinions on you. If you do not show me the same courtesy, that almost automatically makes you ignorant. 43. I am almost always in the process of reclaiming myself. I've felt this way since college. 44. I do not believe I am old, but sometimes feel embarrassed about my age anyway. This annoys me and makes very little sense. 45. Just once, I would like to have gorgeous blue hair. Current Mood: cynical

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June 1st, 2009

10:37 pm - when time wreathed a rose It's amazing how half a glass of wine and a saptastic song affects me. The following things describe me. This is not a meme, just thoughts of me own. But feel free to copy and write one fer yerself if you are bored. 1. I am terrified of money, or more specifically of debt. According to a recent magazine quiz I took in the bathroom, I qualify as having a money phobia. I try, I honestly try, to be a rational adult about it. But money probably qualifies as my number one fear. 2. I hope that I create and sustain one relationship that is strong enough that - if I end up like either of my parents - someone who cares about me will put a loaded gun to my temple and pull the trigger, and stick around to make sure they truly finished me off. 3. The angsty kid in me is serious about #2. The rest of me is not. After a teeny bit of alcohol, angst gets louder. 4. More than I hope for #2, I just plain ol' hope I'm a strong enough and fortunate enough person to not end up like either of them. 5. I believe that, just because you find someone attractive who is the same gender that you are, you do not NEED to slap on the "bi" label. 6. It pisses me off when people use labels for themselves or others. It pisses me off more when they use them for themselves if they are "good" labels. It pisses me off more when "bad" labels are used towards others. "Good" = anything the labeler finds vaguely positive. "Bad" = anything the labeler finds negative. There are VERY few exceptions to the "good" rule, and I cannot think of any for the bad. 7. Very few people in this world can be truly creative. Most people making a living off of creative industries are just good at manufacturing various forms of easily consumed, addictive substances. 8. I try VERY hard to be truly creative. I'm not saying I succeed, but I try very, very hard. 9. If you saw how competitve and judgemental I truly am, you would not like me. 10. If I like a song, I listen to it again and again. And again. And then some more. 11. We are all interesting, and we all have our quirks. Yours are more alluring if you shut up about them. 12. Almost every single day, I wish with my whole heart that I be worthy of the beautiful, precious little girl who has graced my life. If she thinks of me during milestones in her life and rolls her eyes and groans "Mommmmmmm," I will feel blessed. I want to give her the best part of my life. 13. In descending order, the arts that are most important to me are: acting, performance, writing, music. I wish I knew more about music, I wish I was a better writer, I wish I had more time for my own acting, I wish I saw more performances. 14. I feel lost and upset if I don't have a plan. 15. I feel alive when I learn something new. 16. If I'm going to interact with you more than once, I need you to like me. 17. If I sense you are unintelligent or closed minded, I have no patience for you. 18. I like to feel pretty. 19. I am constantly reading people. I wish I could turn it off sometimes. 20. I am very good at denial. I am terrified to address this. 21. I don't laugh or take walks often enough. 22. I often think of myself as a child. **** I might continue this later Current Mood: cold

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May 24th, 2009

09:42 pm - it's many hundred miles but it won't be long I did a silly thing today. I am trying to increase my running speed. Today I was supposed to do a 6 mile run. I got about a mile from home and realized I didn't have any water with me. It wasn't that hot but it was warm enough, and sunny. Now, the intelligent thing to do would have been to turn around, go home, and get some water - would have only been 2 miles without any. Then I could have gone back out and done another 4. But I already had a course planned out in my head so I decided that the best idea would be to just keep going. I was a little freaked at doing that distance without any water, though, so I decided to take it easy and not over exert. I did 5.34 miles of running/walking (not counting about a .5 mi warm-up) and then was home, grabbed a water bottle, and ran enough to finish 6 miles. My time, for running and walking, averaged 10:29 which for me is not horrible, but it sure as hell doesn't do anything for speed. Dummy. I tell myself hey - at least I did 6 miles today. Mmmm-hmmmmm. After the run I went to the park and met up with my baby girl and my husband. Em seems to be very allergic to dandylions - the park was filled with them gone to seed and her eyes and nose were watering like crazy. We flew a kite and she hung from a monkey bar ALL BY HERSELF - both hands hanging on to one ring. She looked like such a big girl standing there, holding on to her kite. She has an Elmo kite she got from Gramma and Papa for Easter. Other highlights of the day: trip to Trader Joe's where she pushed a little cart around the store all by herself. She also got a balloon. Then later we went on a wagon ride back to the park briefly, and around the neighborhood. For dinner we had grilled tuna steaks with ginger and wasabi. I made sides of corn (difficult!!! not) and risotto (mildly difficult since it involved sauteeing and boiling). For dessert we had green tea mochi and mango mochi. Em liked the mochi - so cute! She is an angel. Right now we're watching "Let the Right One In." I'm not sure what to make of it. I mean, is this decent, or just frigging boring? It is a different take on the vampire story and sweet. Hrm. Current Mood: complacent

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May 18th, 2009

10:11 pm - I am, I said Why, exactly is Religion so important? Why? Is it fear? Willful ignorance? Inability to find solace through other methods? Tradition? Comfort? A connection to history? I'm not flat out against religion or anything. But the more I read about religions, the more I scratch my head and go . . . really? Current Mood: contemplative

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April 12th, 2009

10:03 am - just you wait till I get you alone This morning we greeted Em with an Easter basket and eggs hidden in the front yard. It's strange to try to explain holidays to someone when you're subtracting the religious component. I mean, I'm used to doing it with Halloween, and Christmas is so commercialized that it's not too difficult either, but Easter? I meant to do something for her that explains Spring and that celebrated - I dunno - flowers or something like that but didn't get my act together. Also, she's still a little young. I just felt like we kind of blindsided this morning with "look! a basket! Let's go look for eggs!" She was like . . .wha? The race yesterday was lots of fun. It was beautiful weather and the crowds were very enthusiastic. Em liked the balloons and the live music. I think the musicians thought the little enraptured, dancing girl who waved "bye bye" was nice too. My arms are exhausted from carrying her around so much but overall we had a great time. Looking forward to my relay next weekend. Hopefully I won't suck too much. I keep repeating this quote because it's so awesome. Today Stef turns 33, the same age Jesus was when he got nailed! (the quote of from Mary, and today is Easter.) Current Mood: cheerful

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March 22nd, 2009

11:17 am - I'll be home to take you in my arms This is how sweet my daughter is. She and my husband are outside drawing with sidewalk chalk. My husband drew something. "What's that say, daddy?" she asked. "It says, "Emily and Daddy. Best Friends Forever," he replied. "And mommy too!" she insisted. Then she went back to work coloring the stairs hot pink. I love you, little girl. Almost every day I remember to ask that I please be worthy of your sweet life. Current Mood: touched

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10:44 am - to cast me off discourteously One of the last things my mother worked on before her stroke was restoring my dollhouse. I didn't ask her to, but one of the things my mother loved to do was anything crafty. She probably started more projects than she finished, but she truly enjoyed tasks such as recovering chairs, creating doll beds, or anything involving a glue gun. She decided that, as a present to me, she was going to wash and re-wallpaper my "Littles" victorian-style dollhouse I'd had as a child. She didn't finish it, although funnily when she talked to me about it to let me know it was a work-in-progress she did "promise" to finish it "in time." Since there was no deadline I figured she'd just keep working on it ad infinitum. The same month she had her stroke I got pregnant with my daughter. The disassembled dollhouse has been sitting in my basement for years in plastic grocery bags. Today, my two-and-a-half-year old daughter and I brought up the bags and cleaned the separate dusty pieces. I told her that we would put it together and she could play with it, and it would be a present to her. After everything was cleaned off and I started to try to put it together, I realized something: I had HALF my dollhouse. I seemed to have all of the dolls and furniture, but only half of the structure itself. I couldn't assemble enough of it for it to be worth playing with. So, I gathered everything up - the plastic pieces, the wrought-iron furniture, the dolls, the new toile wall-paper and templates my mother had created when she'd thought she would have a chance to finish her project - and placed it all in another bag, and folded it into a box with other sentimental things. The rest of my dollhouse must be with my father's things somewhere, in the apartment he's crammed into now. Current Mood: sad

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March 19th, 2009

09:39 pm - we wanna make him stay up all night I had a random memory tonight. It's pointless to write about it but - ah well. I'm the oldest of 4 girls. I spent a lot, a LOT of time babysitting. I'd be hard pressed to come up with times during ages 6-13 where I got to do something social without involving little sisters. I mean, all the time. Not like, they tagged along while I did my thing. I mean while my friends did their thing, I watched my sisters. I took them to the doctor, I took them grocery shopping, I took them to the park, I skipped doing homework to watch them. One random night, after dinner, when I was about 9 there was something special on TV. I think possibly the muppets. We had one small TV in the living room, which we girls never, ever were allowed to watch in the evening. I remember being so happy, so free, to be watching something fun on TV. My sister Mary, who was about 2, sat on the couch whining and coughing. I moved up close to the TV so I could pay attention to the show. After a few minutes, my mom came in and found that Mary was ill, and beginning to throw up. My mom screamed at me to turn off the TV and help her. She was furious with me, and I felt horrible for watching TV and being selfish. In hindsight, it occurs to me that I was 9 freaking years old, I spent almost all of time non-school time being grown up and responsible and watching two much younger sisters pretty much unsupervised, and I was excited about getting to watch something on TV - which was a rare treat. In hindsight, I am po'd that I was screamed at and made to feel guilty for just being a freaking child. I mean, I was 9 years old and preferred to watch TV as opposed to clean up my sibling's puke. Holy crap, what a demon-child. Holy crap, I obviously deserved a good screaming. I'm not planning on carrying this around with me at all. I mean, whatevah, right? But wow - for a few minutes there - heh - in hindsight - I was annoyed as hell. Current Mood: cranky

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February 25th, 2009

10:58 pm - there was a time you let me know what's really going on below but now you never show it to me, do ya Hallelujah - Leonard Cohen, I am most familiar with the John Cale version I've seen your flag on the mob a lot, but love is not a victory march - it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah Love love love love LOVE that song. Every time I hear it, it's like a brand new exposure, and I am actually overcome with gratitude that something so beautiful and wondorous exists. I feel similarly about "Take this Waltz," but that song is more sad and poignant, whereas Hallelujah is more resounding. And yes, I just indicated that the songs convey the emotions indicative of their titles. Eh, whatever. Cohen is a much better wordsmith than I. I'll cliche in the face of his mad skillz. Oh crap, it's late. I want to write a long post, but really don't have time. Bummer. I want to write ANYthing, but am not sure how. I hate living in near constant worry that someday, I'm going to be exposed for the massive fraud I am. Someday my coworkers will realize I suck, my clients will turn on me, and one by one by teachers will show up to tell me that actually, I never was all that smart. I wonder if it's related to growing up feeling like at any moment someday someone would find out family crap and then there would be scandal and no one would like me ever. I hate that my normal, most comfortable state actually seems to be keeping something hidden in the fear that at any point my massive house of cards life would crash. I actually, at random moments, experience the fear that someday the situation of my life will be that I'm not actually Emily's mom, and that that was just an illusion. Not that that makes any sense. I hate it. I hate it I hate it I hate it I hate it. Maybe that's why I like running. My time is my time. There is no pretending it's something else or hiding it. I either run or I don't. I finish when the chip crossed the line. And no one expects me, or ever will expect me, to be the Best Runner or to run the most difficult courses or to lead a team of runners or to be great or significant or even anything beyond barely capable. I am mediocre, nothing to brag about, competant at best. It's bloody amazing. Okay, that wasn't at all what I wanted to say. Night. Current Mood: aggravated

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January 25th, 2009

10:21 pm - you'll say the words that I can't say We regularly take our daughter on a long car trip. I wanted a DVD player for her so she can watch something on the super long trip. After getting some advice from others, we instead opted to get her a DS. So now my TWO YEAR OLD has a Nintendo DS. Repeat, she's 2. Yesterday I bought her three games and a carrying case. A Tinkerbell game, a My Little Pony game, and a Diego game. And I bought her some hacking software so we can load the thing with movies. Spoiled? Work continues to suck. I have to travel this week. I am NOT working today because - F that. Current Mood: bitchy

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January 18th, 2009

08:51 pm - you change your mind like a girl changes clothes Stupid addictive song. My daughter made me replay it this morning so she could shake her butt. She also butt-shook to Sin With Sebastian's "Sleep With Me." Heh heh. Booty shaker. It's been just about a year since I started being healthier. I don't remember the exact day, but it was midway through January. I don't even remember the day of the week - likely Monday? I think I officially started with my first half marathon training plan. A year ago, I probably would have made fun of myself for having flax waffles with blackberries and chocolate almond milk for breakfast. 'Yuppie SNOB' I would have thought. Several years ago, I wrote one of my better poems. It's called 'Skeletons' and is about my sister's anorexia. The last line is "I can be a size six." So, my entire adult life I've been a size 10. I dimly remember being VERY young, think 11 or 12, and switching over from kid's sizes to grown-up sizes and wearing a 3/5. And my mom commented something about how it was depressing to her that I was so skinny . . . .it was supposed to be humorous. Anyway, from roughly age 16 to age 33, I was the same size. Not exactly the same body, but the same size. (Omitting pregnancy, of course). I've alternated between thinking I was hott stuff and thinking I was just fine, but given that one of my younger sisters' has a screwed to all hell body image, I've felt it my duty to be super confident Just the Way I Was. Writing "I can be a size six" was meant to communicate something akin to death. It was something unattainable without starvation and injury. It was pretty much ridiculous. Overexaggerated. Undoable. So . . . . after a year of not intending - seriously - to change my body at all, I now seem to be a size six. This is incredible and ridiculous. And something I've refused to accept for several months now. I've gone on a spree of pants fitting/buying, to see if I'm only this size in a certain brand at a certain store. I've new verified the size 6 phenom at Wal-Mart, Kohl's, Eddie Bauer, Geoffrey Beane, Target, Gap, Old Navy, Banana Republic, and the local thrift store. And oh yeah Ann Taylor. This is enough of a selection for me to realize that maybe this actually IS my size, instead of just a certain line sizing big. Sigh. Yeah, so, I was talking with a coworker a couple weeks ago and asked her if she thought that the world had started upsizing women's pants. Like, what was a 12 a few years ago is now a 4. And if this was maybe being done in order for our nation of fat asses to feel better about ourselves. "Yeah, maybe" she agreed. This made me feel better. I can't accept a radical size change. I can accept that nation wide the garment industry has started cutting things larger. To give you an idea of my frame of mind - these are my last 2 pants buying experiences. I walk into the store, head to the rack, and pick out a random pair of pants sized 6. I make sure there isn't any special designation to them like "super relaxed" or "skinny butt" or "petite" etc since I want to feel like I'm trying on a 'true' size 6. I schlepp them to the dressing room thinking - hah! THESE won't fit me!!! I try them on, all the while thinking - go on pants, fit me. I freaking DARE you. Yeah that's right - nyah nyah - you can't fit me. I zip and button them and - they fit. One pair I bought out of defiance. These were from one of the most expensive stores I've shopped at. "Oh YEAH!" I thought . . . "You're going to fit, huh??? Well FINE. I'm BUYING you then! I'll show YOU, you stupid pants!" The other pair I slunk back to the rack, embarrassed. Those fit fine too, I had just been so convinced that they wouldn't that when they did I felt like a fool. Stupid fitting pants. Peversely, I was just looking at some photos of myself taken today at a Children's museum. I am wearing sized 6 pants gifted to me from my hott-azz sistah. In a couple photos I am scrunched over, all bent up in the middle. My pants look like old man golf pants. Although, technically, I think that's how they are supposed to fit - they seem to be an odd-ish cut. But anyway, they look like they are oddly hugging my tummy and butt. This makes me feel better. Cased in like a baby blue sausage. Wierdo. Current Mood: confused

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