Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Deep Questions for the ages today

1) Does Bruce Banner have the stretchiest underpants ever? How come all of his other clothes fall to shreds when he turns into the Hulk but his briefs expand (Ha ha, I said expanding briefs!) and then shrink back to their original size when he de-Hulk-ifies!?!? Just wondering.

Yes I was watching the movie. No, it isn't worth two hours of your life. Not helpful: I think Eric Bana is weird looking even when he's not the Hulk.

2) Why is chick lit soooooo bad?

Is my inability to make it through anything after Helen Fielding (Bridget Jones makes me laugh out loud, the only reason I can think of that I keep trying) indicative of the inherent poor quality of this genre, or just my personal taste?

Where do you draw the line between personal taste and objective quality-of-art. Is there such a line? All I know is that I that I hate it when people insinuate that someone else has poor taste in music/writing/art just because their opinion differs and the music/writing/art snob considers him or herself an expert in the field. I never do this.

Except sometimes, when I forget not to be an asshole.

Feel free to remind me.

3) Why can't I think of any more questions?

Sunday, August 26, 2007

A conversation with God, in which He commands and I whine

God: Trust me.

Me: But I'm afraaaiiid!!!

God : Trust me.

Me: But I caaaaaan't!!!

God: Trust me.

Me: AAAAHHHH!!!! Why aren't you fixing things!!!!!????!

God: I am, trust me.

Me: But what about all those other times when you said to trust you and I couldn't and I got all freaked out and had a cow and a nervous breakdown and a really bad day and then- and then..

God: And then what?

Me: ..I... Mmmm. You know..

God: Tell me.

Me: You, ah, fixed everything. You'd already fixed everything but I couldn't see it and you wanted me to..

God: Go on..

Trust you.

God: *laughing* I love you so much. Trust me!

Thursday, August 23, 2007

This is how I feel

I am tired of loss. Losing homes, losing friends; it's too much grief, too many [bad] changes in too short a time. I've crawled inside myself and locked the world out for months. Been numb. Suddenly it's wearing off and I can't bear it. I want the numbness back.

One Art
by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident

the art of losing's not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

I know that my life is easy compared to Elizabeth Bishop's. I know that I'm whining and I should stop feeling sorry for myself and get on with...whatever I'm supposed to be getting on with... but I can't figure out how. I'm just done. I don't want to try anymore. I just want to go home.

Can someone tell me where that is?

Tuesday, August 21, 2007

"Thought" process

Sometimes Often when the light bulb in my head goes on it's more of a gentle sputtering followed by a lazily increasing dim glow rather than sudden burst of brilliance. As an example I give you a sample of my thoughts this fine evening:

8:30 ish pm

So hungry!.... mmmm, food. Food good. But- wait, there isn't anything to eat in the house because I haven't been grocery shopping in three weeks, since I've been spending most of my time house-sitting in a house that is currently sans kitchen and the rest of the time at work subsisting on other people's leftover french fries (God bless The Counter and their generous orders of fries).

**rummage around in kitchen drawer that should contain some takeout menus, dammit! What kind of people live here that never eat takeout? Oh yes, me.**

** Find a tiny, tiny menu from Baja Fresh which is more of a "Save 2 minutes, call ahead for your fast food!" ad than a proper takeout menu but at least represents food.**

** Dither over what to order.....**

** Remember that Baja Fresh is really stingy with the sour cream, and following my deep-seated belief that any meal can be improved with the addition of a high fat dairy product, decide that I must have more sour cream than mean old Baja Fresh will hand me in a tiny tiny cup after making me pay extra for it.**

** Look in the fridge for sour cream.**

** No luck.**

** Think to self,** Trader Joe's has sour cream. I can go to TJ's and get sour cream since it is in the same parking lot as, yea even right next door to, Baja Fresh.

Now if only I could think of some way to incorporate a grocery store into this food-finding sour-cream procuring trip so that I could purchase the
very basic baking items (i.e. sugar and chocolate chips) I need to make the banana chocolate-chip muffins for which so many old bananas in this household have died and gone to the great freezer in the sky kitchen."

**Think harder.**

**Wheels turning. Light bulb sputtering. Smoke coming out of ears.**

Trader Joe's. Groceries. Food.

Wait, wait I've got it! I don't even need to go to Baja Fresh! I can go to Trader Joe's, which is, Lord be praised, an actual grocery store [and furthermore the one I frequent so.. um.. frequently that I hardly ever shop anywhere else so, technically, this should not have been such a large leap.]where I can find chocolate chips and sugar and dinner!"

** Go to TJ's. Buy salad and high-fat dairy product (yes, that's right, every meal!) plus interesting work-portable meal items for rest of week and assorted other foods. **

**Get home and ravenously eat salad drenched in high fat dairy product.

** Realize that I've forgotten the sugar.**

** sigh**

Friday, August 10, 2007


I can't sleep.

Usually I am very good at sleeping. I am a world- class sleeper. If sleeping were an Olympic sport I would win the gold medal hands down. That is, if I didn't oversleep and miss the day of the Olympic trials. I rarely have problems with sleeping, mine are usually the kind that consist of wanting to do nothing but. It's the waking up that is the challenge for me.

Yet tonight I am awake, so I will blog.

I am reading a young adult novel. It's called The Book Thief and it's incredible. I had forgotten how my gems of literature could be found in the YA section if you take the time to seek them out. This one's discovery I owe to my little sister Katie. She brought a stack of library books 10 inches high on vacation (she is a girl after my own heart, I tell you) and this was one of them. I started reading it in Georgia and went straight to the library when I got home to find it and finish.

It's a big book. I'm still reading it and I don't usually take weeks to get through a book I'm really enjoying. I think this one is lingering because it has to be taken in small doses. It is a hard story, but one worth reading.

The Book Stealer is about a girl. She loves books and the only way she can acquire them is to steal (thus the title). She is growing up in Nazi Germany. The story is being narrated by death. Or rather, by Death, who turns out to be a strangely sympathetic character and perhaps the only one with such proximity to the events described who is able to be somewhat detached about them and therefore makes the perfect teller of this tale.

I won't say any more than that but if your interest is piqued go to the library, or Amazon, or your local bookstore, and find the book thief. You won't be disappointed. Let me know what you think.

The Book Thief
by Markus Zusak