Wednesday, July 22

is it weird that i've held FIVE separate screwdrivers today?

...yeah, it is.

in other news: do you like how i lied to you guys about taking a computer break? Yeah. it's a bad habit i have. The one about not following through with my plans. ::sigh:: In my excuse it's unbearably hot here and i've cleaned the whole house and read all my books, so yeah. Suck it. a girl needs a little downtime, ya know?

a few brief, completely dull items:

~Today was opening day at the Del Mar racetrack. i officially loathe "hat day". How many rich, bitchy, rushed, picky, and rude women did i have to help this morning? Way, way, too many. To be honest, i couldn't care less about tiny men kicking their drugged-up horses to a froth and decorating your gods-damned giant hat with appropriately-color-matched flowers for your little breezy sun dress. And what is up with people not understanding that flowers need water to survive? Have they never seen a dead plant, bush, tree, etc.? i am alarmed by the high levels of stupidity that i encounter sometimes. Just a clear and plain lack of thought that some tend to exhibit. Is that learned? Or just forgotten?

~Also today, my co-worker called me after my shift to inform me that we've won the (2008) Reader's Choice award for Best Flower Shop! Hmm... after my attitude today, i must confess that i'm somewhat surprised. But still, it is a little pocket of nice in a month of blah.

~Tomorrow Nat and i are heading out to Comic-Con, even though we swore we weren't going this year. a free pass will do that to you, though. i hope i don't have a crowd-induced nervous breakdown this time. Cross your fingers! Hopefully i'll take some good photos, at any rate. And we'll be able to see a preview of the new Terry Gilliam flick, which should definitely prove... interesting.

Fare thee well, alls. Go fly a kite! Or read a book! Or drink frosty root beer floats! Or get a new houseplant! (Or an outdoor plant, if you're the lucky sort to have earth with which to wash your hands.) Or pick some fruit somewhere! Bust out some origami, or a paper airplane! Show someone how to play with a non-newtonian fluid! Try and do a handstand! Tie a piece of ribbon around your wrist! Send someone a postcard! Go pet kittens at the pound! Find your nearest swingset, and swing! Look at your old photographs! Make some gyoza! Climb a tree! And cut your toenails, because really: it's time.

...whew! sorry. sometimes i need to remind myself that the possibilities really are endless.

Tuesday, July 21


Just though i'd mention briefly the passing of Frank McCourt, author of (among other things) the 'memoir'* Angela's Ashes, a piece of reading of which i'm very fond. From what i gather, this book seems to polarize readers to a great degree. i just remember being unable to put it down, and feeling very connected and drawn in to his world via the writing style; it was one of my first encounters with written dialogue sans quotation marks, which i rejoiced upon discovering. Almost everyone in the book is a sad case, to one degree or another; one, an over-alcoholic father capable of scant few redeeming acts (the occasion on which he sucked the killing phlegm out of his infant son's nose being one that completely floored me. i will never forget it.).

In any case, if you hated the book, that's your impression, and you're entitled to it. If you loved it, i am right there with ya. And if you haven't cracked the spine yet, i hereby strongly encourage you to do so (assuming you have a few heartstrings left). He is a magnificent story-teller. May Irish oyes smile upon you, Frank, and thanks for leaving your story behind.


In other news: the longest full solar eclipse of the 21st century occurred today (not visible from N. America, of course! zounds.), and Nat found the larva of a ladybird near our bathroom sink... fine and lovely omens those are, i do decree.

*i find a memoir to be a very malleable interpretation of "facts", or "events". The very term suggests that any words strung together by the author are at the liquid mercy of their own personal memory. This is part of the human condition. Otherwise they would be called "autobiographies", and as we all know, even then the truth can be diluted indeed. i mention this because a lot of the negative reviews i have heard about his book tend to sit pretty squarely in the "well, he obviously embellished" column. Who among us hasn't?

Wednesday, July 15

a return to an end

Not that anyone would be missing anything, but i think i may stretch out this computer-abstinence thing i've got goin' on. While Nat was away, i realized that far too many of my waking hours had been spent peering intently into the little screen of my MacBook, searching for something (anything!) more interesting and better-spent pursuing than my actual dismal existence... this saddened me quite a bit. True, i worked quite a bit this past weel, and spent too much of my leisure time watching a bunch of movies (Once, Control, Amélie, Tokyo!, and other good'uns), but i actually got some other stuff done, as well. Like finally picked up a book off the shelf that i'd not got around to reading. And dusting the HECK out of my bedroom, which lifted a ton of weight off the old conscience, and probably the lungs, too. i realized that i've been running, and hiding, and procrastinating, for too long. it's time to figure some stuff out. i don't have any idea what i want out of life, and that cannot be a good thing.
As much as i want to check in with The Daily Coyote and Pioneer Woman, it is simply too tempting. Remember the time when we didn't have computers? i sure do, because it wasn't really all that long ago for me. 2006, i believe. And i did stuff back then. San Diego has deadened me to the point where i would rather hole up in my room all day and read about amazing stuff that other people are out there doing than go out and live my own damn life. It's gotta stop. i can't be so closed-off anymore. There are things that need to be sorted out, figured out.

And as much as this is probably just wishful thinking, i would like to take a break? From all of the amazing things that the internet has to offer. It's time.

In other news: what do you think makes a bird fly in any one direction? Do they leap up and just... follow the wind? Head towards the light? Find a favorite tree? Do they have favorite trees? Or is there some other instinctual force moving them ever forward, onward? i want to know the answers to these things.

The other morning, i awoke at 7:34 a.m. to a loud rumbling sound. i precisely remember my very first thought: oh fuck, is my upstairs neighbor slamming doors at 7:30 in the morning now, or what? But then i woke up a tad more (read: opened my eyes, which had been glued shut with sleep) and realized that i was standing in the bedroom doorway. Instinctively. And it hit me: there was an earthquake! Cool! And i did the right thing, without even thinking about it... how bizarre. Is this because i am a California Kid? Who knows. i was impressed with myself, anyway. It was like someone i didn't know was living right beneath the surface, a take-charge kinda gal who knew how to deal with what life threw at you. i liked that.

Also, a friend of mine from work lost a roommate to an intentional drug overdose last week. Another friend from work actually witnessed a man falling from six stories up and landing on the car in front of her. He did not live. i guess what i'm saying is: life is short. You know it, and i know it, and now they know it too late. There are so many things to do, and so little time to do them. All i know is that if i died tomorrow, i would not be happy. This has got to change. Be it reading books, or taking a different bike ride, or a new bus route, i need to get out of here. There is no time like the present.

i may check in from time to time (who am i kidding, i know i will), but it's sayonara for a little bit. Curtain call, or what have you. Perhaps this is only... an intermission?

Joanna Newsom - "En Gallop"