This evening I have absolutely had it with Forsyth County, GA. So, I did an intense (30 minute) google search of coffee houses in Alpharetta. Lo and behold! I found one...a fantastic one, in fact. It is in a town called Crabapple and it looks like something from Nantucket in the midst of a condominium neighborhood. It's quaint. It's got 80's music! and it's got a fancy name for my favorite coffee drink. What I once referred to as an iced caramel latte at Stirling's (Sewanee, TN) is called a Caramella or a Caramelotta or something here at the Jittery Joe's...anyway, it's like whoa tasty.
Today has been chock full of Mommy's helpful (not helpful) job hunting advice, snot-nosed children obnoxiousness and now, preppy-ville tasty goodness. I think I'll sit here not wearing whale shorts and think about The Catcher in the Rye or A Separate Peace or something equally preppy. Oh, and while I do that I'll eat my warmed up chocolate chip cookie!
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
cake or death? um...i'll have the chicken
Things that don't make sense:
The Dewey Decimal system makes No. Sense. because I can never remember author's names when I'm searching for books I've never read. Usually, I can only remember bits of the title, just as I can only remember bits of lyrics from songs and then make up the rest.
My mom is really clever for no reason. She strategically placed the Sunday AJC in front of my door and sent my sister up to wake me this morning with a generic statement, "Mom wants you to come downstairs." *sleepily opened one eye* "Why?" *sigh* "She just said to come downstairs." *opened the other eye* "What was she doing?" *more sighing* "Writing the grocery list." *closed both eyes* "Tell her I'll be home for dinner Sunday and Thursday." Ten minutes later up came my sister again with a note from my mom. It read, "Smartass." She's only mad because her plan didn't work out and I continued to sleep instead of reading the AJC for the job listings. PS. Mother dear, reading the paper is the antiquated way of job searching since the invention of the internet and all.
I went to a vegetable stand today because I'm obsessed with vegetable stands and the intriguing people that own them. I met Mike. He sold me some boiled peanuts and peaches, neither of which I wanted but both of which ended up paying for. Mike likes to chatter at his customers. I listened and bought things and didn't eat any of the things I bought because boiled peanuts taste funny and the peaches weren't ripe. I never buy fruit that isn't ripe because I forget that I bought them if I have to wait for them to ripen.
Is it still standard for resumes to only be a page long if your work history is less than ten years? I can't fit it all on one page without making the font really small. What's the point of a resume if you can't even read it? Also, can a woman wear pants on a job interview because I think yes, but my mom thinks no and will let me wear pencil skirts which make my hips look like I have already birthed three children. I responded to this with the following statements: 1. Have you ever been to a non-profit organization? 2. This is not the 80's, Mom. 3. Also, you can fit a vagina into a pair of pants.
The Dewey Decimal system makes No. Sense. because I can never remember author's names when I'm searching for books I've never read. Usually, I can only remember bits of the title, just as I can only remember bits of lyrics from songs and then make up the rest.
My mom is really clever for no reason. She strategically placed the Sunday AJC in front of my door and sent my sister up to wake me this morning with a generic statement, "Mom wants you to come downstairs." *sleepily opened one eye* "Why?" *sigh* "She just said to come downstairs." *opened the other eye* "What was she doing?" *more sighing* "Writing the grocery list." *closed both eyes* "Tell her I'll be home for dinner Sunday and Thursday." Ten minutes later up came my sister again with a note from my mom. It read, "Smartass." She's only mad because her plan didn't work out and I continued to sleep instead of reading the AJC for the job listings. PS. Mother dear, reading the paper is the antiquated way of job searching since the invention of the internet and all.
I went to a vegetable stand today because I'm obsessed with vegetable stands and the intriguing people that own them. I met Mike. He sold me some boiled peanuts and peaches, neither of which I wanted but both of which ended up paying for. Mike likes to chatter at his customers. I listened and bought things and didn't eat any of the things I bought because boiled peanuts taste funny and the peaches weren't ripe. I never buy fruit that isn't ripe because I forget that I bought them if I have to wait for them to ripen.
Is it still standard for resumes to only be a page long if your work history is less than ten years? I can't fit it all on one page without making the font really small. What's the point of a resume if you can't even read it? Also, can a woman wear pants on a job interview because I think yes, but my mom thinks no and will let me wear pencil skirts which make my hips look like I have already birthed three children. I responded to this with the following statements: 1. Have you ever been to a non-profit organization? 2. This is not the 80's, Mom. 3. Also, you can fit a vagina into a pair of pants.
adventures between me and myself
Tonight, I went to the movies by myself. I've gotten it down to a science now. I leave early enough so that I have time to stop by the gas station on the way to purchase a cheap Coke and Junior Mints. Then I sit in the parking lot of the theatre taking my time smoking a cigarette and getting myself all excited about the feature film of the evening. Tonight, it was Get Smart.
When I was a kid, Get Smart reruns from the 70's came on Nick and Nite at 9pm. My bedtime in the fifth grade was 9pm, but my mom used to let me stay up til 9:30 on Tuesdays, when Get Smart came on. I was obsessed with that show, I think it was the shoe phone and the series of doors during the opening sequence. Anyway, when I heard about the movie coming out this summer, I Got So Excited!
The film was excellent. A fine mixture of comedy and action. Anne Hathaway is HOT! in this film and Steve Carell was a perfect Maxwell Smart. Also, there's an ironic puppy appearance at the end of the film which forced a fine existential experience for the drive home. Go and see it, everybody! You won't be mad about spending the gas money or paying for the ticket.
When I was a kid, Get Smart reruns from the 70's came on Nick and Nite at 9pm. My bedtime in the fifth grade was 9pm, but my mom used to let me stay up til 9:30 on Tuesdays, when Get Smart came on. I was obsessed with that show, I think it was the shoe phone and the series of doors during the opening sequence. Anyway, when I heard about the movie coming out this summer, I Got So Excited!
The film was excellent. A fine mixture of comedy and action. Anne Hathaway is HOT! in this film and Steve Carell was a perfect Maxwell Smart. Also, there's an ironic puppy appearance at the end of the film which forced a fine existential experience for the drive home. Go and see it, everybody! You won't be mad about spending the gas money or paying for the ticket.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
i can see clearly now the rain is gone
Today my friend Britt made a huge life decision to move to New York City and become a publisher. I am so proud of her and she has shown me a light at the end of this dark tunnel of post-graduation hell.
Today my friend Joel liberated a book and stuck it to the man. He drove from Tuscaloosa to Birmingham to retrieve an illegally purchased copy of Neil Gaiman's new book; the copy was being held captive by his parents in return for some outdated/unmailed thank you notes. He accomplished his mission under an alias journey of "yes, mom, i'll drive several hours to try on an expensive suit that you've purchased for me." The story evokes sixties-esque book burnings and such in my mind. It was an amazing story.
Today, I sold two thousand dollars worth of groceries, cigarettes, beer, condoms and postage stamps to housewives in a suburban Atlanta city. I don't know that I gained any perspective or strengthened my sense of self in doing so, but I certainly helped to exercise the rights of women to purchase things and mail things and eat things and have safe sex. These rights could never have been exercised by these women had I not been working the Express Line for six hours straight.
Who won Today? I did.
Today my friend Joel liberated a book and stuck it to the man. He drove from Tuscaloosa to Birmingham to retrieve an illegally purchased copy of Neil Gaiman's new book; the copy was being held captive by his parents in return for some outdated/unmailed thank you notes. He accomplished his mission under an alias journey of "yes, mom, i'll drive several hours to try on an expensive suit that you've purchased for me." The story evokes sixties-esque book burnings and such in my mind. It was an amazing story.
Today, I sold two thousand dollars worth of groceries, cigarettes, beer, condoms and postage stamps to housewives in a suburban Atlanta city. I don't know that I gained any perspective or strengthened my sense of self in doing so, but I certainly helped to exercise the rights of women to purchase things and mail things and eat things and have safe sex. These rights could never have been exercised by these women had I not been working the Express Line for six hours straight.
Who won Today? I did.
workaholics anonymous
Fellow associate, Penny, wanted to go visit her daughter at the airport today so I got called in to cover her shift, which I didn't really mind doing because guess what suckers?! I got a raise yesterday! Hours=Money!
Near the end of my shift, and consequently during a rather intense punchy/giggly fit that was induced by a really shallow fatty comment that, come to think of it, wasn't really all that funny but did induce the desire in me to purchase tuna fish after clocking out, I did something terribly wrong. And that thing was chase a customer around the vestibule with an Oreck vacuum cleaner.
Yes, it's true. I've gone off the deep end. But it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I told my supervisor what I'd done. She looked at me and my somber, reserved and remorseful facial expression and burst out laughing. Then she sold me my cigarettes and told me to get the hell out of her store in between bits of giggle.
My work there for the day is done. Oh, but I'll be back tomorrow to put the fear of clean back into another rumply customer. Yes. I. will.
Near the end of my shift, and consequently during a rather intense punchy/giggly fit that was induced by a really shallow fatty comment that, come to think of it, wasn't really all that funny but did induce the desire in me to purchase tuna fish after clocking out, I did something terribly wrong. And that thing was chase a customer around the vestibule with an Oreck vacuum cleaner.
Yes, it's true. I've gone off the deep end. But it just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. I told my supervisor what I'd done. She looked at me and my somber, reserved and remorseful facial expression and burst out laughing. Then she sold me my cigarettes and told me to get the hell out of her store in between bits of giggle.
My work there for the day is done. Oh, but I'll be back tomorrow to put the fear of clean back into another rumply customer. Yes. I. will.
Monday, June 23, 2008
whoever invented cheese and toilets is my personal hero
While performing what is called a "store sweep*" tonight at work, I finally got to use my degree. What had happened was there were these two guys in the dairy section and one of them yelled really loudly at me, "Where is the bathroom?!" I walked over to them and said that "the restroom was at the front of the store" *pointed in that direction* and "could I help to find something for them?" I couldn't help apparently and while the guy who shouted at me turned around to study the pudding selection the second guy bee-lined it to the bathroom with his arms clenched up next to his body and his dukes at attention. He glanced around and said, "I'm okay...I'm okay." I realized from his paranoia, catatonic muscle responses, and darty eyes that it was highly probable that he was under the influence of a pretty intense dosage of some sort of upper/stimulant drug.
If I had been in class I would have written down the following case analysis:
I. +20, Male, Caucasian, Substance Use
II. Irritable, Paranoid, Agitated, possible personality D/O--unlikely
II. needs to pee, probably hungry, other hy: unknown
IV. close male friend same I and II
V. 80
The first guy looked at me and said, "where's the cheese?" I pointed down the aisle and started spouting off the different types, not that he would remember them, but the non-confrontational explanation distracted him from the frightened look on my face. I told him I would be right back. I grabbed my broom, because you don't want paranoid individuals getting a hold of items that could be used as weapons and walked to the front of the store. There, I ran into a fellow associate who was running the cash register. I calmly described to him the situation and informed him that when the guys came through his line that he should take it easy and not ask a lot of fanciful questions. "It's best not to agitate them, so just you know...be chill." He replied with a heartfelt "thank you for the head's up," and then asked, "how do you know all this?" To which I replied, "I took a couple of classes in abnormal psychology." He shook his head with approval. I took that as an indicator that even though I'm hugely neurotic myself and drink too much, that maybe I'm not the biggest dumb ass in Georgia after all.
*when you push a big fat broom around the entire grocery store for thirty minutes collecting the day's debris--it's nasty and today the highlight objects were an orange skittle and a yogurt container top that reminded me of The Office Olympics, but 'cept it wasn't blue or gold.
If I had been in class I would have written down the following case analysis:
I. +20, Male, Caucasian, Substance Use
II. Irritable, Paranoid, Agitated, possible personality D/O--unlikely
II. needs to pee, probably hungry, other hy: unknown
IV. close male friend same I and II
V. 80
The first guy looked at me and said, "where's the cheese?" I pointed down the aisle and started spouting off the different types, not that he would remember them, but the non-confrontational explanation distracted him from the frightened look on my face. I told him I would be right back. I grabbed my broom, because you don't want paranoid individuals getting a hold of items that could be used as weapons and walked to the front of the store. There, I ran into a fellow associate who was running the cash register. I calmly described to him the situation and informed him that when the guys came through his line that he should take it easy and not ask a lot of fanciful questions. "It's best not to agitate them, so just you know...be chill." He replied with a heartfelt "thank you for the head's up," and then asked, "how do you know all this?" To which I replied, "I took a couple of classes in abnormal psychology." He shook his head with approval. I took that as an indicator that even though I'm hugely neurotic myself and drink too much, that maybe I'm not the biggest dumb ass in Georgia after all.
*when you push a big fat broom around the entire grocery store for thirty minutes collecting the day's debris--it's nasty and today the highlight objects were an orange skittle and a yogurt container top that reminded me of The Office Olympics, but 'cept it wasn't blue or gold.
Saturday, June 21, 2008
your past floating fast like a hummingbird
I remember when you were small,
child
ignorant, inquisitive
and scared
your needs fulfilled by others
the greatest comforts of your world
were but one request
from your hands
they expect more from you
now, child
the world is full of Now people
desiring the deepest oceans
the mightiest rivers
and the fullest nets
with not a bit of understanding
about how to acquire
such desire
the most rudimentary hope
taught to each of us
is ripped from our hearts of knowledge
and so we search it out
each day
each night
in each thought
and dream
in every solitary moment
and we are alone in our journey
yet we stand next to one another
carefully holding, soothing
and comforting
our past ignorances
child
ignorant, inquisitive
and scared
your needs fulfilled by others
the greatest comforts of your world
were but one request
from your hands
they expect more from you
now, child
the world is full of Now people
desiring the deepest oceans
the mightiest rivers
and the fullest nets
with not a bit of understanding
about how to acquire
such desire
the most rudimentary hope
taught to each of us
is ripped from our hearts of knowledge
and so we search it out
each day
each night
in each thought
and dream
in every solitary moment
and we are alone in our journey
yet we stand next to one another
carefully holding, soothing
and comforting
our past ignorances
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Notice 1378 (5-2008) Bitch please?!
"Samantha, you've got a piece of mail here from the IRS!"
"Sweet Jesus! Yay! perks of being a citizen!" yelled while clambering down the stairs and doing groovy arm dance movements.
Rips open letter which reads Stimulus Payment on the back, "Yesssss!" *lots of air punching*
"A letter? the fuck?" reads letter. "Six weeks!! I might have a job by then, how will I use three hundred dollars on a superfluous shopping extravaganza in six weeks if I'm tied to a secretarial desk wearing pumps. Gag!"
"Can you keep it down? I'm on the phone here."
"Sorry." *rolls eyes*
"I don't know. Something about secretarial wardrobe."
"Sweet Jesus! Yay! perks of being a citizen!" yelled while clambering down the stairs and doing groovy arm dance movements.
Rips open letter which reads Stimulus Payment on the back, "Yesssss!" *lots of air punching*
"A letter? the fuck?" reads letter. "Six weeks!! I might have a job by then, how will I use three hundred dollars on a superfluous shopping extravaganza in six weeks if I'm tied to a secretarial desk wearing pumps. Gag!"
"Can you keep it down? I'm on the phone here."
"Sorry." *rolls eyes*
"I don't know. Something about secretarial wardrobe."
it might be an ordinary day...but it seems like more than that to me
an empty guitar case
covered with stickers
scratched and dented
is like an expensive meal
seasoned to taste
but lacking in nutrients
we used to go places on whims in my dreams
but now there are none
only,
maybe just hollow-less
poetry
covered with stickers
scratched and dented
is like an expensive meal
seasoned to taste
but lacking in nutrients
we used to go places on whims in my dreams
but now there are none
only,
maybe just hollow-less
poetry
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
love stars kept in native american pots?
A friend of mine was talking to me about stars tonight. The word in Spanish for stars is estra, which literally means broken pieces (or something like that...I only know the French). Anyway, he said something really poignant, and I'm going to paraphrase and fuck this up from a lot of different angles I'm sure, but what he said really struck me and I'm trying to make sense out of it.
He said, "When you fall in love with someone, your heart breaks into a million tiny pieces but it's ok because the person you love is there holding all the broken pieces in their hand. The problem is when they leave, all the pieces fall away and you wind up having to run around collecting them and gluing them back together, but you can never find all of them ever again so you replace the lost ones with other stuff."
My initial response was what a beautiful way to describe love. And my second initial response (basically they came at the same time) was I wish that I still had all the pieces of my heart. Like all the pieces exactly as they were when I was born. I don't know what that says about me. Probably that I'm pessimistic or something, but I really do wish that. But maybe I only wish that because the new stuff that has been added to all the broken pieces in the process of me trying to adhere them all together again, has influenced me to miss the old pieces?? Like, maybe I wouldn't know to miss the old pieces if they weren't gone...oh the irony?!
It reminds me of an art project I did in the third grade. I made a 'Native American' pot. It was so friggin' cool, man. It took me weeks to make that damn thing and I was so effing proud of it. I wrapped it in a gazillion paper towels, put it in my lunch pail and took it on the daycare bus with me one Friday afternoon. When I got to daycare, I showed it to my daycare teacher Miss Stacy. She was so impressed with my skills-of-an-artist that she took a picture of me holding it. She even called my mom, who was at work, to tell her how excited I was about it. When my mom got there to pick me up that afternoon, I ran to hug her and as she walked towards my lunch pail (she was about twenty feet from it) I ran towards it, ripped open the pail and abruptly dropped the pot onto the floor. It broke into a million pieces and I began to sob. My mom cried and so did Miss Stacy. We never found one of the pieces from the pot, but my mom hot glued the rest of it back together that night when we got home. It's bumpy in spots now and not all of it fits together and there's a hole in one side from the missing piece, but I love it because every time I come home and look at it, I remember that I need to take my time so that I don't lose something important to me. Every time my mom dusts it, she cries. And every time I see her crying when she dusts it, we cry together and talk about that afternoon. I think we're crying about different perspectives of the incident, but we cry none the less.
Maybe that's what I need to do with my heart, take time with the matters that concern it so that I don't lose important stuff on the way. I don't want to cry every time I fall in love and it doesn't work out, I just want to know that I did my best and be happy with that, but for some reason I enjoy being disillusioned by love and then I enjoy letting it slap me in the face and force me onto my fat ass. Maybe you're right, Joely. Maybe it's the nature of me to suffer, but it hurts a lot too. Again, with the irony...dammit.
He said, "When you fall in love with someone, your heart breaks into a million tiny pieces but it's ok because the person you love is there holding all the broken pieces in their hand. The problem is when they leave, all the pieces fall away and you wind up having to run around collecting them and gluing them back together, but you can never find all of them ever again so you replace the lost ones with other stuff."
My initial response was what a beautiful way to describe love. And my second initial response (basically they came at the same time) was I wish that I still had all the pieces of my heart. Like all the pieces exactly as they were when I was born. I don't know what that says about me. Probably that I'm pessimistic or something, but I really do wish that. But maybe I only wish that because the new stuff that has been added to all the broken pieces in the process of me trying to adhere them all together again, has influenced me to miss the old pieces?? Like, maybe I wouldn't know to miss the old pieces if they weren't gone...oh the irony?!
It reminds me of an art project I did in the third grade. I made a 'Native American' pot. It was so friggin' cool, man. It took me weeks to make that damn thing and I was so effing proud of it. I wrapped it in a gazillion paper towels, put it in my lunch pail and took it on the daycare bus with me one Friday afternoon. When I got to daycare, I showed it to my daycare teacher Miss Stacy. She was so impressed with my skills-of-an-artist that she took a picture of me holding it. She even called my mom, who was at work, to tell her how excited I was about it. When my mom got there to pick me up that afternoon, I ran to hug her and as she walked towards my lunch pail (she was about twenty feet from it) I ran towards it, ripped open the pail and abruptly dropped the pot onto the floor. It broke into a million pieces and I began to sob. My mom cried and so did Miss Stacy. We never found one of the pieces from the pot, but my mom hot glued the rest of it back together that night when we got home. It's bumpy in spots now and not all of it fits together and there's a hole in one side from the missing piece, but I love it because every time I come home and look at it, I remember that I need to take my time so that I don't lose something important to me. Every time my mom dusts it, she cries. And every time I see her crying when she dusts it, we cry together and talk about that afternoon. I think we're crying about different perspectives of the incident, but we cry none the less.
Maybe that's what I need to do with my heart, take time with the matters that concern it so that I don't lose important stuff on the way. I don't want to cry every time I fall in love and it doesn't work out, I just want to know that I did my best and be happy with that, but for some reason I enjoy being disillusioned by love and then I enjoy letting it slap me in the face and force me onto my fat ass. Maybe you're right, Joely. Maybe it's the nature of me to suffer, but it hurts a lot too. Again, with the irony...dammit.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Father's Day
I get really confused on Father's Day and make poor decisions. This one was no different.
12am: arrived at dance club
2am: left dance club
3am: left the city
3:05am: got lost in the city
3:06am: find interstate
3:45am: get on interstate
5am: arrive in the suburbs
6am: go to bed
11am: wake up
1pm: family arrives
1:05pm: chop vegetables to escape family interaction
2:30pm: escapism continues when I leave for work
6pm: escapism ends when I return home on break
6:15pm: eat the best chicken of my life
7pm: back on the clock I talk to soccer mom about soy milk (day 9 of soy milk experiment)
9pm: the mopping commences
10:30pm: arrive home
10:31pm: open Amstel light
10:33pm: Amstel light is gone
11pm: finally figure out how to use Flickr
11:01pm: celebrate with another Amstel
midnight: watch Televangelist
12:02am: google Televangelist
12:05am: decide to ignore google and just listen
12:30am: ponder Televangelist's message
12:31am: decide it is not entirely bunk
12:33am: decide I am nuts and chock situation up to the fact that it's Father's Day
1:30am: get a craving for mayonnaise
1:31am: wonder if I am pregnant
1:31:30am: laugh
1:35am: make a sandwich
1:25am: blog about the oddities of the day
12am: arrived at dance club
2am: left dance club
3am: left the city
3:05am: got lost in the city
3:06am: find interstate
3:45am: get on interstate
5am: arrive in the suburbs
6am: go to bed
11am: wake up
1pm: family arrives
1:05pm: chop vegetables to escape family interaction
2:30pm: escapism continues when I leave for work
6pm: escapism ends when I return home on break
6:15pm: eat the best chicken of my life
7pm: back on the clock I talk to soccer mom about soy milk (day 9 of soy milk experiment)
9pm: the mopping commences
10:30pm: arrive home
10:31pm: open Amstel light
10:33pm: Amstel light is gone
11pm: finally figure out how to use Flickr
11:01pm: celebrate with another Amstel
midnight: watch Televangelist
12:02am: google Televangelist
12:05am: decide to ignore google and just listen
12:30am: ponder Televangelist's message
12:31am: decide it is not entirely bunk
12:33am: decide I am nuts and chock situation up to the fact that it's Father's Day
1:30am: get a craving for mayonnaise
1:31am: wonder if I am pregnant
1:31:30am: laugh
1:35am: make a sandwich
1:25am: blog about the oddities of the day
Saturday, June 14, 2008
I am not well
This morning was the battle between healthy and lard. Let me explain.
I woke up at an un-godly amount of early to go to the Farmer's Market with my mom. And by un-godly amount of early I mean the kind of early wherein you're so tired that you put your underwear on inside out but don't realize it until five minutes ago. Anyway, I had been looking forward to going to the market all week. In fact, I changed some plans I had so that I could go with her this morning. After showering and inducing joyfulness with Girlyman, coffee and nicotine, I was ready to go. Only, my mom was not downstairs? I knock on her door, "Mom?" "What?" she replies. "Are we going to the market?" I ask. "What time is it?" she responds. I tell her and then she says "No, I'm in bed." I think my jaw must have dropped in a noisy fashion because she said, "Get away from my door."
Irritated, angry and hungry, I left the house to go the market on my own with a cup of coffee to keep me company. I bought some peaches and then I bought some McDonald's biscuits. When I got back I sat on the porch and ate a biscuit while on the phone with a friend. I went inside and sat down to eat the second biscuit due to mega amounts of hungry inside my tummy. But, something strange happened. Suddenly, I couldn't finish the biscuit and instead had a craving for one of the peaches. I don't know if you guys know how monumental this is.
I. have. never. not. finished. a. biscuit.
Just ask anyone who lives within a twenty mile radius of Sewanee, TN. They all know that I LOVE BISCUITS. I probably love biscuits more than life, especially if they have cheese and egg and bacon on them. So, if anyone needs me, I'll be at a doctor getting myself checked out for psychological issues and/or physical ailments.
Synopsis:
1. Mom's suck.
2. Farmers get up too early.
3. I am not well.
I woke up at an un-godly amount of early to go to the Farmer's Market with my mom. And by un-godly amount of early I mean the kind of early wherein you're so tired that you put your underwear on inside out but don't realize it until five minutes ago. Anyway, I had been looking forward to going to the market all week. In fact, I changed some plans I had so that I could go with her this morning. After showering and inducing joyfulness with Girlyman, coffee and nicotine, I was ready to go. Only, my mom was not downstairs? I knock on her door, "Mom?" "What?" she replies. "Are we going to the market?" I ask. "What time is it?" she responds. I tell her and then she says "No, I'm in bed." I think my jaw must have dropped in a noisy fashion because she said, "Get away from my door."
Irritated, angry and hungry, I left the house to go the market on my own with a cup of coffee to keep me company. I bought some peaches and then I bought some McDonald's biscuits. When I got back I sat on the porch and ate a biscuit while on the phone with a friend. I went inside and sat down to eat the second biscuit due to mega amounts of hungry inside my tummy. But, something strange happened. Suddenly, I couldn't finish the biscuit and instead had a craving for one of the peaches. I don't know if you guys know how monumental this is.
I. have. never. not. finished. a. biscuit.
Just ask anyone who lives within a twenty mile radius of Sewanee, TN. They all know that I LOVE BISCUITS. I probably love biscuits more than life, especially if they have cheese and egg and bacon on them. So, if anyone needs me, I'll be at a doctor getting myself checked out for psychological issues and/or physical ailments.
Synopsis:
1. Mom's suck.
2. Farmers get up too early.
3. I am not well.
Friday, June 13, 2008
i like curry
the anger of a thousand bulls
running at one bull fighter in the depths of my mind.
He is draped in the red of poppies
and of blood
exiting his body by way of the pores from which sweat usually departs.
But nothing in this moment
is as it ought to be.
Your fingertips touched that paper you handed me a long time ago, and even then
they left blood on the edge of it
smudging the words to an abstraction
from which my mind filled in the blanks
with stick figures and a number of ideas
inappropriate for this page.
I’ll always feel the anger of those bulls and
my body will never perform correctly
ever again even
when my mind is blissful to wander in the false reality
taken from and by and with the paper
that I keep in the back pocket
of my only pair of pants
from which I hope a stranger on the street
will take it
so to finally be rid of it
may be even more blissful
than this moment.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Drowned and drinking the light...god's eyes are closed just like yours
Do you ever have a moment when you just want to slap your ownself in the face?
So, I was all mucked up in polyester green-ness tonight at the local grocery talking for the tenth day in a row to some lady about the soy milk she was purchasing. I don't even like soy milk, but it's entertaining to keep a tally of how many people with whom I can discuss soy milk and other soy products. Anyway, right after that lady left, a Spanish speaking couple were in my line. I don't like to refer to these people as Hispanic or Mexican or any other proper noun because in these parts they all mean the same thing: hatred. I liked this couple. They were cute and the husband was teasing the lady about something. I don't know what though, cuz they were talking in Spanish and I only know the French. Anyway, they had a WIC order which is a little irritating because it requires me to pay special attention to the items purchased and the dates on the check, yadda yadda yadda... So, they bought their 5 canisters of Similac with Iron supplement on one order and then on the second order *sigh* they were purchasing a home pregnancy test.
I instantly became the most judgmental person I've ever met. I was nice to them though. I mean, for all I know it could have been for someone else or they could be Catholic and not use barrier methods. Anyway, it's none of my business...but yet I was passing judgment. And I immediately wanted to smack myself in the face and yell at myself like your mom did when you were a kid and you said a swear word at church or something terribly embarrassing like that.
After they left, I gave myself a time-out. While I mopped the floor I thought about how beautiful babies can be and how many people can't have them and how that couple might be having a baby and how miraculous and beautiful that is. And then I blocked* the baby aisle which P.S. is a pain in the royalest of asses cuz of all the itty bitty baby food jars.
*straightened, like in a library when you pull all the books to the front edge of the shelf so it's even and orderly. The goal is to run your finger along the shelf edge and feel no space breaks in the books.
So, I was all mucked up in polyester green-ness tonight at the local grocery talking for the tenth day in a row to some lady about the soy milk she was purchasing. I don't even like soy milk, but it's entertaining to keep a tally of how many people with whom I can discuss soy milk and other soy products. Anyway, right after that lady left, a Spanish speaking couple were in my line. I don't like to refer to these people as Hispanic or Mexican or any other proper noun because in these parts they all mean the same thing: hatred. I liked this couple. They were cute and the husband was teasing the lady about something. I don't know what though, cuz they were talking in Spanish and I only know the French. Anyway, they had a WIC order which is a little irritating because it requires me to pay special attention to the items purchased and the dates on the check, yadda yadda yadda... So, they bought their 5 canisters of Similac with Iron supplement on one order and then on the second order *sigh* they were purchasing a home pregnancy test.
I instantly became the most judgmental person I've ever met. I was nice to them though. I mean, for all I know it could have been for someone else or they could be Catholic and not use barrier methods. Anyway, it's none of my business...but yet I was passing judgment. And I immediately wanted to smack myself in the face and yell at myself like your mom did when you were a kid and you said a swear word at church or something terribly embarrassing like that.
After they left, I gave myself a time-out. While I mopped the floor I thought about how beautiful babies can be and how many people can't have them and how that couple might be having a baby and how miraculous and beautiful that is. And then I blocked* the baby aisle which P.S. is a pain in the royalest of asses cuz of all the itty bitty baby food jars.
*straightened, like in a library when you pull all the books to the front edge of the shelf so it's even and orderly. The goal is to run your finger along the shelf edge and feel no space breaks in the books.
Monday, June 09, 2008
I will always regret never hearing your best secrets...
The silence of my finger grazing over the bump on my chin that doesn’t belong there is broken by the sound of air conditioners clicking on and off while a car alarm banters in the distance. I’m agitated by the nothing that I feel about all the something that exists in the world. Suddenly, I understand Emily Dickinson and it occurs to me that I’m over stimulated. Like an orgasm that never ends. Like childlike jokes that induce states of happiness that perpetually irritate the academic that lives inside my brain. All of these things induce images of melting clocks in the desert of my mind. I sip my beer, shaking my head.
All the triteness in the world is accentuated by my friend on the other end of the phone. He names me as special when all I want is to not feel that I am lonely. The loveliness of the world exists only in the shadow of the stale, hollow wo/men who run the ins and outs of it. The hollowness in these wo/men did not exist there until they allowed it to consume them. They are the enemy and the hope. They are the ones I desire to speak to but to whom I will never speak. Even those who understand the state of mind in which I contemplate and thrive will not have me. Another image rouses my neurons; the picture from my seventh grade history textbook of the edge of the flat world on which those before Galileo dwelled. I picture myself there, just as I am now; seated on the edge of the world with my feet dangling from the side of it, sipping my beer and rocking slightly back and forth as if to find comfort. Should I put down my beer and jump? Should I get up and walk back from where I’ve come? Or should I just keep sitting there? I don’t know what to do, so I am writing.
Though now, in retrospect, the edge of the world looks more like a piece of poo.
All the triteness in the world is accentuated by my friend on the other end of the phone. He names me as special when all I want is to not feel that I am lonely. The loveliness of the world exists only in the shadow of the stale, hollow wo/men who run the ins and outs of it. The hollowness in these wo/men did not exist there until they allowed it to consume them. They are the enemy and the hope. They are the ones I desire to speak to but to whom I will never speak. Even those who understand the state of mind in which I contemplate and thrive will not have me. Another image rouses my neurons; the picture from my seventh grade history textbook of the edge of the flat world on which those before Galileo dwelled. I picture myself there, just as I am now; seated on the edge of the world with my feet dangling from the side of it, sipping my beer and rocking slightly back and forth as if to find comfort. Should I put down my beer and jump? Should I get up and walk back from where I’ve come? Or should I just keep sitting there? I don’t know what to do, so I am writing.
Though now, in retrospect, the edge of the world looks more like a piece of poo.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
I heart J.K. Rowling like whoa...no, make that like Whoa.
On imagination:
"...is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared."
On humans:
"Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s minds, imagine themselves into other people’s places."
"They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know."
On Life:
"As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters."
I can't even respond to this because I am so deep in my own thought. Also, it would sound like garbage compared to Rowling's eloquence. Everyone should read the speech she delivered at Harvard's commencement. Let's just say, I wish she had been the speaker at my graduation this year. Though, I would have sobbed. And Desmond Tutu and the 26th Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church did speak in Sewanee that weekend, so I can't complain that much. But still, imagination and magic AND Amnesty International...I would have had an academic orgasm.
"...is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathise with humans whose experiences we have never shared."
On humans:
"Unlike any other creature on this planet, humans can learn and understand, without having experienced. They can think themselves into other people’s minds, imagine themselves into other people’s places."
"They can refuse to hear screams or to peer inside cages; they can close their minds and hearts to any suffering that does not touch them personally; they can refuse to know."
On Life:
"As is a tale, so is life: not how long it is, but how good it is, is what matters."
I can't even respond to this because I am so deep in my own thought. Also, it would sound like garbage compared to Rowling's eloquence. Everyone should read the speech she delivered at Harvard's commencement. Let's just say, I wish she had been the speaker at my graduation this year. Though, I would have sobbed. And Desmond Tutu and the 26th Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church did speak in Sewanee that weekend, so I can't complain that much. But still, imagination and magic AND Amnesty International...I would have had an academic orgasm.
Happiness is a full bookshelf
This weekend my friend D came to visit. I haven't seen her in four years! She got here Friday and after I got us lost in Atlanta for an hour we came back to my house and did all our favorite things for 48 hours: ate cheese, drank wine, played Chinese Checkers and watched Eddie Izzard. It was fabulous, and I feel refreshed to have spent time with a good friend. Yesterday afternoon, we decided to venture into the basement of my house to you know, find things to do.
I started looking through boxes. I located all of the books from my childhood; all the books that I left behind when I went off to college. I found Time Windows by Kathryn Reiss, Love Story by Erich Segal, Why We Can't Wait by MLK, Jr, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Old Man and The Sea by Hemingway, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water by Frances McCullough (my very first book of poetry), and my copy of Charlotte's Web by E.B. White. I cried when I found White's book. I've been looking for it for four years and loving it since I was five. It has been my favorite since seventeen years ago when I named the spider that lived in my window, Charlotte. Everytime my mom tried to kill Charlotte I would scream bloody murder and lecture her about living creatures' rights to live (apparently, I've been a social justice activist since before I could read). Anyway, the cover is coming off the book but I love love LOVE that I found it.
Recap:
Great weekend.
Alcohol and Chinese Checkers.
Recovery of Charlotte's Web.
Am a library.
I started looking through boxes. I located all of the books from my childhood; all the books that I left behind when I went off to college. I found Time Windows by Kathryn Reiss, Love Story by Erich Segal, Why We Can't Wait by MLK, Jr, The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Old Man and The Sea by Hemingway, Earth, Air, Fire, and Water by Frances McCullough (my very first book of poetry), and my copy of Charlotte's Web by E.B. White. I cried when I found White's book. I've been looking for it for four years and loving it since I was five. It has been my favorite since seventeen years ago when I named the spider that lived in my window, Charlotte. Everytime my mom tried to kill Charlotte I would scream bloody murder and lecture her about living creatures' rights to live (apparently, I've been a social justice activist since before I could read). Anyway, the cover is coming off the book but I love love LOVE that I found it.
Recap:
Great weekend.
Alcohol and Chinese Checkers.
Recovery of Charlotte's Web.
Am a library.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
I am the walrus, and I wanna hold your hand, eggman
This day is fucking fantastical! Let me tell you why:
1. I found the Leonard's Farmer's Market. It smelled like sweet delicious nutritious fruits with it's 70's linoleum flooring and old school fruit baskets full of PEACHES! I tried to buy two peaches, but low and behold the guy gave them to me--for FREE.
2. I went to the music store and bought two guitar picks for 54 cents TOTAL! Also, I signed up for guitar lessons that I cannot afford. And I got a good quote on a viola rental ($31.75 a month). I also saw a really sweet Fender acoustic that was robin egg blue and it will appear on my next Christmas List to Santa. (Dear Santa, I like birds and guitars. Please buy me that robin egg blue Fender guitar that I saw at the Ponce de Leon Music Store in Cumming on June 5th. I've been a good kid this year, doing the dishes before the mold begins to grow and making my bed every morning. Well, I make my bed to keep the kids' dirty socks away from my clean sheets, but still, I make it every morning. Much love and Cookies, bertha)
3. Then I went to the library where I checked out a Beatles cd, every Flannery O'Connor book they had, and Our Bodies, Ourselves just cuz it seemed like a good idea. Also, I got a Hemingway short story collection, all for free because I'm that special. (Keep your comments about all library materials being free to yourselves, please).
4. BFF Kate sent me a message about our rendez-vous in July. Sewanee Wedding of a Sister + Road Trip with Kate = Awesome!
5. And as if this day could get better, my good friend from South Carolina called me and said she's coming to visit me in this hell hole that I live in on Saturday. I heart Diana!
Bring it, Fate. You can't touch me today. I'm full of FREE Peaches and Beatles Love and fabulously crafted wordsmithery.
1. I found the Leonard's Farmer's Market. It smelled like sweet delicious nutritious fruits with it's 70's linoleum flooring and old school fruit baskets full of PEACHES! I tried to buy two peaches, but low and behold the guy gave them to me--for FREE.
2. I went to the music store and bought two guitar picks for 54 cents TOTAL! Also, I signed up for guitar lessons that I cannot afford. And I got a good quote on a viola rental ($31.75 a month). I also saw a really sweet Fender acoustic that was robin egg blue and it will appear on my next Christmas List to Santa. (Dear Santa, I like birds and guitars. Please buy me that robin egg blue Fender guitar that I saw at the Ponce de Leon Music Store in Cumming on June 5th. I've been a good kid this year, doing the dishes before the mold begins to grow and making my bed every morning. Well, I make my bed to keep the kids' dirty socks away from my clean sheets, but still, I make it every morning. Much love and Cookies, bertha)
3. Then I went to the library where I checked out a Beatles cd, every Flannery O'Connor book they had, and Our Bodies, Ourselves just cuz it seemed like a good idea. Also, I got a Hemingway short story collection, all for free because I'm that special. (Keep your comments about all library materials being free to yourselves, please).
4. BFF Kate sent me a message about our rendez-vous in July. Sewanee Wedding of a Sister + Road Trip with Kate = Awesome!
5. And as if this day could get better, my good friend from South Carolina called me and said she's coming to visit me in this hell hole that I live in on Saturday. I heart Diana!
Bring it, Fate. You can't touch me today. I'm full of FREE Peaches and Beatles Love and fabulously crafted wordsmithery.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Feminist Television
I have a guilty pleasure. Ever since I was little I have enjoyed watching and laughing heartily at the television show MASH. I realize this makes me quite popular with the over forty crowd, but not so popular with the under thirtiers. None of my friends have ever liked the show, but there were several MASH DVDs in the library at my alma mater. The best part is that I could watch humor evoking bliss in twenty minute increments without the interruption of other patrons because hello? they were always available at the library, i.e. checked in. Anyway, I can't check them out anymore but every time I turn on TV Land these days, MASH is on and it is lovely. What's even lovelier is that the commericals appeal to my feminist heart. There is a new television show that premieres tomorrow night. It is called She's Got The Look, hosted by Kim Alexis. It is a modeling reality television show (right up my alley due to my intense missing of my BFF Kate who introduced me to the concept of the reality television show). Show outz to Kate!
Anyway, She's Got The Look has the makings of a fine feminist learning experience. The judges only consider female models who are over the age of thirty-five. I viewed the auditions for the show last week and some of the questions the judges had for the women were, "Why do you want to be a model?" and "How will this experience impact your life?" The answers the contestants gave were so compelling and were light years ahead of the crap about which those ANTM girls babble. Everyone must watch and be enlightened. And you can of course, thank me later for the saving of your soon to be feminist souls.
Oh, Oh! and there's a lesbian contestant! I'm just sayin'.
Anyway, She's Got The Look has the makings of a fine feminist learning experience. The judges only consider female models who are over the age of thirty-five. I viewed the auditions for the show last week and some of the questions the judges had for the women were, "Why do you want to be a model?" and "How will this experience impact your life?" The answers the contestants gave were so compelling and were light years ahead of the crap about which those ANTM girls babble. Everyone must watch and be enlightened. And you can of course, thank me later for the saving of your soon to be feminist souls.
Oh, Oh! and there's a lesbian contestant! I'm just sayin'.
Monday, June 02, 2008
Where the eff is my asthma inhaler?
Ok guys, here's the deal. Heather Anne thinks it's a good idea for me to run in a 5K at the end of the month. (Hold on, let me wipe the sweat that just dripped on my keyboard...I don't want to get electricuted).
Alright, so basically I've been exercising my lard ass butt (that's like saying "butt butt" like that church in South Carolina that I hate simply because it's named "Tabernacle Church" that's like saying "Church Church"). I've been exercising like a fiend for the last four days. My body no longer hates me and in fact it was like, let's run a bit further today, shall we, lard butt? So, I did. and it was lovely! I have no idea how many miles I ran, but I could have kept running. I'm rather impressed actually that it only took four days to get to this point of wanting to exercise, but it's here. Yay! *pant pant*
Exercising Schedule:
It consists of a three day cycle of activities.
Day 1: run
Day 2: run a bit further than Day 1
Day 3: pool rehabilitation
Day 4: run as much as Day 2
Day 5: run a bit further than Days 2 and 4
Day 6: pool rehab
Day 7: make like God and rest (i.e. take a lot of naps and stretch/yoga it up)
I don't know if this is going to work but I hope it does and I hope I get the day off of work for the race. I haven't trained in like four years. And my coach's idea of training was "Alright Kennedy, go run for like an hour and a half and don't stop!" And then on sporadic days he'd make us do really cruel things like run 12 400 meter dashes with a 60 second break between each dash. I vomed on those days. I don't really want to make myself vom b/c I already did that on the first day that I started this schedule, but if anyone has any suggestions, I have open ears.
Alright, now where did I put my cigarettes and wine? I mean my asthma inhaler and water? :)
Later gators! I'm hitting the showers.
Alright, so basically I've been exercising my lard ass butt (that's like saying "butt butt" like that church in South Carolina that I hate simply because it's named "Tabernacle Church" that's like saying "Church Church"). I've been exercising like a fiend for the last four days. My body no longer hates me and in fact it was like, let's run a bit further today, shall we, lard butt? So, I did. and it was lovely! I have no idea how many miles I ran, but I could have kept running. I'm rather impressed actually that it only took four days to get to this point of wanting to exercise, but it's here. Yay! *pant pant*
Exercising Schedule:
It consists of a three day cycle of activities.
Day 1: run
Day 2: run a bit further than Day 1
Day 3: pool rehabilitation
Day 4: run as much as Day 2
Day 5: run a bit further than Days 2 and 4
Day 6: pool rehab
Day 7: make like God and rest (i.e. take a lot of naps and stretch/yoga it up)
I don't know if this is going to work but I hope it does and I hope I get the day off of work for the race. I haven't trained in like four years. And my coach's idea of training was "Alright Kennedy, go run for like an hour and a half and don't stop!" And then on sporadic days he'd make us do really cruel things like run 12 400 meter dashes with a 60 second break between each dash. I vomed on those days. I don't really want to make myself vom b/c I already did that on the first day that I started this schedule, but if anyone has any suggestions, I have open ears.
Alright, now where did I put my cigarettes and wine? I mean my asthma inhaler and water? :)
Later gators! I'm hitting the showers.
Sunday, June 01, 2008
reclaiming the summer of my bitch-hood
dearest you,
these captured moments
residing in pages
of mine;
the ones without a spine
full of notes
most of them
not preferential
to me,
belong to you
synaptic polarization is lost
sleeping happily alone now
paying my own bills now
wanting my fucking pages back now
and my notes scream to be rid of you
now
so, if you please?
get the hell out.
love, me
these captured moments
residing in pages
of mine;
the ones without a spine
full of notes
most of them
not preferential
to me,
belong to you
synaptic polarization is lost
sleeping happily alone now
paying my own bills now
wanting my fucking pages back now
and my notes scream to be rid of you
now
so, if you please?
get the hell out.
love, me
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