June 30, 2009
Was it a dream
Where you’re stading on a pyramid in sort of sun-god robes, while thousands of naked women are screaming and throwing little pickles at you? Why am I the only person who has that dream?
Speaking of pickles and other Eastern European tastiness… get thee to Chutzpah. I tried the kugel (sweet, but not overpoweringly so), the latkes (unusually thick, but nice and fluffy, and perfectly crispy on the outside), and half of a patty melt. And that patty melt? Despite the ground beef, and the cheese, and the sautéed onions, I could still taste the rye bread. I’m contemplating holding them hostage until they’ll either tell me where they got it or give me the recipe, because toasted rye bread with butter is possibly the only thing I might choose over nutella, if I had to choose between two things for the rest of my life.
Okay, okay. Maaayyyybe macaroni and cheese. But it’s close, is what I’m saying.
Anyway, this was supposed to be about dreams. Lately, I haven’t been getting enough sleep to really remember mine, if I have them, but today I overslept. And in oversleeping, I got to learn about what’s been bothering me lately.
See, in my dream, I’d just bought a new place, but the condo management people kept letting themselves in all the time, without letting me know or even knocking first. They’d bring furniture in, or mess around with the utilities to make sure they were set up properly. Of course, they’d do this early in the morning, so that I’d wake up and there would be a strange man in my room, messing with a cable jack. Disconcerting, to say the least, and pretty clearly related to the fact that my place has lots of windows and no window treatments*, yet.
You know, I’ve generally considered myself a reasonably creative person. And these dreams? Are so literal. I’m BORING myself. I need more of a challenge!
Anyone have some really bizarre dreams for me to armchair analyze?
*Also, who invented THAT phrase? Window treatments? How I treat my windows? Interior designers scare me a little**, with how seriously they take this stuff.
**Obviously, I’m jealous, because I know that I have absolutely no talent in this arena and my place is undoubtedly going to look like it was decorated by a five-year-old.
June 29, 2009
Stet
It’s Monday, and my day thus far has involved some excellent music, followed by headache-inducing questions of grammar that may involve me telling my (several pay scale grades removed) superiors that they are, in fact, wrong.
Then again, it might not. Because if they want to edit my documents in such a way that the documents are less correct than they were when I last saw them, that’s their prerogative and I’m not one to stand in the way of my betters’ prerogative.
Instead, I’m going to perform our generation’s equivalent of sticking my head in the sand, and rejoin Mr. Schnauss in the land of iPodia.
Stet. It’s like “om”, but for editors.
June 26, 2009
Things I’m glad I know
(1) How to make beetle-like creatures go “squunch”.
(2) How to take care of myself by eating well and exercising.
(3) How to truly savor the last molecule of heavenly chocolate-hazelnut goodness.
(4) How much better I am now, than I was before.
(5) How to know amazing people who will always be there and will always be awesome, no matter what.
(6) How to let myself let go a little, sometimes.
(7) That no matter what that is, I’m going to be more than okay.
(8) The lyrics to “Ice Ice Baby”.
(9) How to enjoy what’s yet to come.
June 25, 2009
Things I wish I didn’t know
(1) I wish I didn’t know that there was a very large beetle-like creature roaming around the condo.
(2) I wish I didn’t know what my scale said this morning.
(3) I wish I didn’t know how many calories are in a spoonful of Nutella.
(4) I wish I didn’t know that I could do better.
(5) I wish I didn’t know how to not know someone at all.
(6) I wish I didn’t know better, sometimes.
(7) I wish I didn’t know … that.
(8) I wish I didn’t know that my love for Lady Gaga is not something I should advertise publicly.
(9) Or that those boxes? The ones in my closet? Are definitely not going to unpack themselves.
June 24, 2009
For serious?
“While you think quite highly of yourself, you may well have reason to believe the criticism offered by another.” ~ Express horoscopes.
Alrighty then. Who let Dr. Taggart write the horoscopes? Perhaps the universe is telling me that I have better things to do than read the horoscopes?
I’m just going to sit tight and think about this. Should I ever own one, it will most assuredly be named My Preciousssss.
Though, since I’m thinking about what I should be reading instead, if anyone has good book recommendations, that’d be much appreciated. Since it’s summer, any and all fiction is welcome, but I’d love to hear about some sci-fi/fantasy authors that are not named Terry Goodkind, Robert Jordan, David/Leigh Eddings, Joel Rosenberg, Melanie Rawn, or Weis/Hickman. Of those, the last three are among my favorites.
Thanks!
June 23, 2009
“Oh! Check the pillowcase!”
Before I get started, I’d like to extend my condolences and sympathy to those affected by yesterday’s accident. You are in my thoughts.
*Thunk*
“What was that?”
“I don’t know – oh, a pillow fell.”
“Hmph. ssnnnrrrkkkkzzzz”
<several hours later>
“I can’t find my phone – I’ve looked everywhere. It’s not by my bed, not in my office, not anywhere.”
“Did you check your car? The bathroom? The mantel?”
“Yeah, I loo–”
“Oh! Check the pillowcase! Pillows don’t thunk!”
The phone was, in fact, in the pillowcase.
So, when I was meandering through a bit of an existential crisis, I realized that I felt much the same as just a few days after my move, when severe thunderstorms threatened the power supply to the new condo, and I could not for the life of me find my flashlight. I had packed it, of course. And I’d meant to pack it someplace easily accessible, just in case. Where had I put it… Aha!
Opening the heavy box filled with (mostly full) bottles of adult libation, I found the flashlight wedged between them, having been the perfect size to take up the last remaining bit of horizontal space in the box, and thus keep the bottles from rattling against each other at all.
Applying this methodology, I went through my head, shaking out the dropcloths of insecurity and letting my actual knowledge speak for itself. And there, under a particuarly paint-splattered specimen, I found my faith.*
And also, a bottle of Southern Comfort.
*And I don’t think I agree with the notion that faith destroys doubt, and that if you have doubt, then the best you can do is have hope. I think that it’s possible to have faith, and have room for doubt as well. One premise I’d offer in support is, if faith were an absolute antidote, then why the phrase, “Ye of little faith”? (emphasis added).
June 22, 2009
Something I should know?
“You should be able to get through a tough time with your confidence and self-esteem intact — no matter what others may say about you.”
This from this morning’s Express horoscope. But, um… I thought I was having a good weekend, and a reasonably good morning? Universe, if you’re trying to tell me something, you could just pass it along to Karma. She’ll deliver the message with gusto, I’m sure.
I think, just maybe, that I’ve found a couch. I went to the store, saw it, liked it even more than online, and it seems that I’ll be able to get it at a fairly reasonable price. But answer me this, people.
How do you know if you want a whole couch covered in a color of which you have a 4″x4″ sample? And here’s an even better question – how do you know you want a whole WALL, or ROOM even, covered in a color of which you have a 1.25″x2″ sample?
Maybe my horoscope is telling me that the “tough time” is going to be living with whatever chaos I create, while my friends whisper that I’ve got absolutely no taste at all.
*sigh*
June 19, 2009
Doubt
Who has time for it, really? I mean, we’re bombarded with decision-making opportunities every day, with barely a microsecond between one decision and the next. Doubt paralyzes, makes all decisions harder to some degree, because it allows for the possibility of erroneous choices, and thus places on us the burden of more thought, which takes time, and brings to mind all of the decisions we’re not making while we take the time to think. And doubt, like a fine mist, creeps into those microsecond cracks and permeates.
It’s easier to push doubt aside, to say that one is choosing not to doubt, that one is choosing to insulate with faith.
But what if doubt is healthy, there for a reason? What if doubt is merely another name for the astigmatic haze around the red flags lining the path of a particular choice?
What if?
June 18, 2009
The fun part
So, the month of August is going to be amazing. It’s funny, because I never plan vacations for myself, but I’ve managed to go to some pretty fantastic places because of others’ ideas.
I’ll take another coattail ride, please and thank you.
The first trip in August will be nuptuals-inspired, and will involve staying at an all-inclusive resort. I’ve never done anything like this at all – never been someplace tropical for vacation (New Orleans almost counts, but not in December), and I’m very excited to experience it all. Even if a good portion of “all” means that enjoying beautiful beaches, transparent turquoise waters, and adult beverages will be among my most movement-intensive activities. I have a feeling I’ll handle that just fine. Much like last year’s Big Fat Greek Wedding, this is an amazing experience that I probably wouldn’t have been able to have, had this gorgeous woman not planned it all and asked me to come along.
The second trip will be the pool trip. A full week in Vegas, staying at a ridiculously nice hotel (I probably won’t tell Dr. Taggart where, exactly, as she’d be appalled by the extravagance made incredibly affortable by Hotwire). Granted, I probably won’t be sleeping that much, and I’ll be indoors playing pool for a lot of it, but… I’ve never been to Vegas before. And getting to see it this way, with prize money funding a good portion of the trip? Means I’ll be able to truly enjoy myself without panicking about the lack of available funds back home.
I wonder which is more fun, though. I mean, I’m getting so much more than the actual vacations themselves, because now I get to anticipate! For over a month! Wheee!
Getting work done between now and then, with Google’s siren song beckoning me towards dreams of restaurants, bathing suit shopping, a new cue (perhaps?), hairstyles….
I’m sorry. My brain appears to have gone ahead of me, to scout out the territory.
June 17, 2009
Again, with the not getting it.
I am, perhaps, just really dense. But 80% of the conflict I have with certain people (hi, mom!) can be summed up in one main cause:
If I have just screwed up in some way, and am therefore disappointed in myself, it is perhaps best to wait a few minutes before telling me what I should have done instead.
First of all, I’m still dealing with the disappointment. Give me a minute or two to process that before you ask me to move on to the “fixing it for next time” stage, willya?
Second, I already know I’ve made a mistake somehow, otherwise I’d have reached whatever goal it was in the first place. Pointing out, rapid-fire, what I should have done instead makes me feel even less intelligent for having made the mistake, since it was SO OBVIOUS to everyone else that I should have handled it differently. The way people with brains would have.
If, for example, I’ve just lost a game in pool… right then? Is not the time to ask me if I remember 4 shots ago when the 5 was nestled up on the rail against the 8 and I was just supposed to gently push the 5 into the 8 as a defensive maneuver, but instead I knocked the 5 away from the rail giving my opponent a clear shot on the 8.
No, I do not remember 4 shots ago, because my brain is busy yelling at me for having lost the game. Trying to teach me something at this juncture is useless, because I’m too upset to absorb anything. Also, it’s entirely probable that I was actually trying to do the thing you’re about to *teach* me, and all you’re doing at this point is highlighting my lack of skill, which I’m already well aware of, thanks. So at the very least, wait a little while, give me some time to get back to an emotionally receptive place, and I’ll do a much better job of taking the criticism gracefully.
Again, with the not getting it. When someone’s just failed at something and is obviously upset about it, how is it useful to start criticizing them immediately?
Seeking John Galt 