“A person’s life purpose is nothing more than to rediscover, through the detours of art, or love, or passionate work, those one or two images in the presence of which his heart first opened.” – Albert Camus
You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2005.
I love – love! – Archie comic books. When I was a kid, I’d go nuts in the store and break out every penny I had to cash in for the Double Digests. My Dad would read them, too, and we’d swap (I suspect that he was just trying to encourage me and keep my addiction going and wasn’t really all that ‘into’ the whole Archie thing, but that’s not really important.) There was always an Archie comic in my Christmas stocking, and for my birthday, too.
Having said that, this is just… odd.
Equally odd that in a few frames, Betty looks like Deb, which is a little surreal.
Dude, the universe is TOTALLY FREAKING ME OUT LATELY.
*ahem*
I am trying to decide how this relates to Lena and her discussion of wax-on-wax-off this evening.
Sometimes I’m pretty sure the universe is trying to send me a message in another language.
What? What’s wrong with Tofurkey? It tastes good, has great texture, adds some spice to the sandwich, isn’t terribly bad for the person eating it, and doesn’t overwhelm the other parts assembled around it. I’m not even a vegetarian – I eat it because I legitimately *like* it.
Are you all against the consumption of tofu, or just flavoured tofu products, or…? Hrmph.
Clearly you need to come and eat one of Coffee’s magical stir-fry dinners with tofu, or maybe the recipe where he makes big chunks of fried tofu that we then wrap in multigrain pitas (and which I smear with tzatziki, which I believe should accompany EVERYTHING). Or the sweet and sour tofu. Mmmmm…
Seriously – do you people not eat tofu? ‘Cause I’m drooling all over the place now.
Coffee caved. tee hee!
Since I’m taking this big hiatus from my women’s list for, well, I don’t know how long, I’ve decided that I need to set myself some goals that don’t involve obsessive email checking. For your pleasure, I list them here in all their glory.
Goal number one: Make some offline friends.
I need some face-to-face time with human beings and I need to make more local friends. Sounds easy. I want to meet people – the real kind – but this brings to light my usual set of problems when it comes to the real world. Those problems, of course are as follows: I’m antisocial. I’m also shy. I lack confidence and I have no large stack of cash to spend on doing expensive things with people. It’s a little hard to meet new people (let’s call them “potential friends”, or “PFs”) when you don’t like to leave the house and get really nervous talking to people you don’t already know, and have this overwhelming feeling that the other person is simply biding their time before they rush home to email their existing friends to say, “Holy shit, man, I met this WEIRD chick tonight. You are NOT going to believe this!” Yes, clearly, I need PFs who don’t read this blog. Or who read it, but find me charming and endearing and a little quirky instead of insane. (Perhaps you’re new to reading my blog. That’s good! Don’t read the archives! Let’s hang out! I’m not crazy!)
Goal number two: Knit
I’m going to finish some knitting projects. First up is the scarf that I’m working on for Melle, which is to be followed by my own scarf, and then a little somethin’ for Dax, and that’s going to be followed by the Ribby Cardi that I’m determined to complete before I’m senile. Ambitious, yes, but I’m determined. I figure that between Sunday night SnBs, Monday night knitting classes and Thursday night SnBs, I can keep myself motivated. Right? I am really enjoying the knitting, and I’d like to learn some tips and techniques and get better at it.
Goal number three: Write a Novel
I signed up for NaNoWriMo this year, and I’m determined to crank out 50,000 words without panicking about how crap it truly is. I’ve decided to build off of my Santa Hat story, and I’m determined to not care how stupid, inane, ridiculous, incomprehensible or just plain wrong it goes. I’m going to keep putting words on the page until I reach that goal and then, if necessary, I’m going to print it all out and burn it. I don’t care; I’m just going to do it this year. If my charactes start to sound like they’re all drunk, that’s okay. If they start killing each other off by the third chapter, also fine. By 20,000 words I’m sure I’ll have slid into a plot that resembles the stories I wrote as a kid, “And then the cat said okay and the dog said no and then everyone went to the store and they laughed and I laughed too and then the mommy came along and she gave them all cookies and the dog laughed at the cat and tried to eat him.” but I don’t care. I don’t CARE. I have ADD and I’m going to write a fucking novel if it kills me.
Goal number four: Send More Email
Specifically, send some email that does not involve a mailing list. Not because they’re evil, but because I tend to neglect my friendships in favour of sending all of my love to the list. Which is why I encourage all my friends to JOIN the list. I make no promises that I will send coherent emails, and much like NaNoWriMo, some of it may end up sounding like I’m drunk-emailing at 10 in the morning. But that’s why you’re my FRIENDS, people.
Goal number five: Bore you with Blog
Write more in my blog. Writing more begets writing more, and thus I’m going to inundate y’all with blog entries. This doesn’t mean quality, oh no, but this does mean that you just might find something worth reading if you can make it through all 30,000 daily entries. You may want to sign up for my notifylist (on the “about” page) to keep up, or you may want to RSS me, or you may want to just go find some other blog to read for a while.
Goal number six: Make some Money
My logo is done. My business cards will be done very soon. My web site will also be done shortly. And that means it’s time start pimpin’ like a.. pimp who needs to make some money. Which I am. Or I do. Or something along those lines. I have a list of businesses I want to pimp to and I’m looking forward to getting things rollin’. Rollin’ like Snoop Dogg on a Friday night. (I love that man.)
Goal number seven: Other Stuff
Read more books. Clean up the house. Run. Cook. Write snail-mail letters (ha!). Nap. Make snowmen (okay, maybe not quite yet). Fuck my husband (ooo!). Watch movies. Go outside. Laugh.
Take one very whole-grain bun, the kind that has flaky bits of grain falling off when you try to handle it.
Cut it in half and put it in the toaster oven to “toast” (but you really just want it to warm a bit and crisp around the edges, not toast).
While the bun is warming, cut some thin slices of red onion, and shred up some organic “still growing in the package” lettuce.
Take bun out of toaster oven, smear with mayo or honey mustard or sweet-with-heat mustard.
Place thin slices of onion onto bottom portion of the bun, add shreds of lettuce.
Place three slices of Italian-seasoned “Tofurkey” on top of those veggies.
Place the second half of the bun on top.
Drool over the creation for a moment, then eat.
Wish you had four more.
So, who’s joining me in NaNoWriMo this year? Anyone?
I triple-dog-dare you to sign up..
As confirmation that I am not the only one who thinks these things have serious potential, I present to you a recent Freecycle posting (with no grammatical or spelling or any other editing on my part) from a man who I suspect is a lot of fun to go drinking with.
[OFFERED]
Amigo Mobility Scooter. My wife hates me drivin’ around on it. It’s one of those scooters that seniors drive around malls and to parks. It would be great for parts, Has swivel chair and collapsable handle bars. When I got it the electronic gizzmo on it was shot and the batterys were dead. I mounted 2 car batterys on it to a switch and it would take off. This would not be sutible for someone handicapped due to the fact it goes full accel when you hit the switch. But it sure was fun. The deck is broken now but would be an easy fix with some angle iron. Heck I’ll even throw in the piece of angle iron!
Since quitting my job at Mayt..ag – XCO – a few months ago, I’ve found that my brain has slowly but surely started to go back to being mine. Mine all mine. I don’t feel guilty when I read for hours on end, I don’t feel bad when I watch crappy TV, I don’t feel pressured to read business-related books simply to understand someone else’s conversation in a meeting. I sleep much better, I don’t stress much about the house being a mess, and sometimes I start to laugh completely spontaneously. At nothing. Or everything. My sense of humour hath returned! FEAR ME! I can sit for hours and watch the bluejays on the bird feeder or I can lose myself completely in some completely irrelevent thought that springs to mind. The funny thing, though, is how I don’t realize or notice this lightheartedness unless something prompts me to it.
I’ve also never really noticed when I slip into depression – it’s a day-by-day thing, so gradual and so slow to progress. It’s happened for very obvious reasons (the deaths of my parents, grandparents, Deb, etc) but it’s also happened for what appears to be no reason at all. I don’t wake up one morning and think, “Holy crap. I’m depressed!” and usually it’s someone else who has to point it out to me. Someone has to tap me on the shoulder and point out that it’s been many days since I’ve laughed, that my forehead is permanently etched with a scowl-line and that I seem to cry every thirty-two seconds, or thereabouts. I’m not talking about a string of bad days, I’m talking about a loss of perpsective and a loss of any spark whatsoever. And then I take the meds and after a short period of time I wake up and I think, “Holy crap. I feel *good* again.”
My most recent bout with the glorious marvels of modern medicine was started a short while after Deb died. I was sad about her death, of course, and I mourned and I grieved and I went through hell. But soon I found myself crying for really long periods of time. It wasn’t that I was dwelling on her death, it’s more that her death flipped a switch somewhere that brought down the heavy velvet curtains of sadness. Silently. I was still crying, on occasion, about Deb. But in addition to that, I’d come home from work and cry, and I’d watch tv and cry and I’d eat a sandwich and cry. I’d cry while getting dressed in the morning, while in the parking lot before work, while listening to the radio or surfing porn sites. I’d cry on Coffee and I’d cry via email and I’d cry in the bathroom at work.
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