Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Town 11 North, Range As Far East as She Goes, 4th Meridian

Sometimes the Historical Society building makes me think of a crazy old B-movie from my childhood, Return to Oz. It reminds me of the insane asylum they throw Dorothea in, with random bits of glass and ancient chromish metal on the walls, and solemn, bodiless, echoing footsteps in the hallways. Maybe one day while in the depths of the archive stacks I'll run across a machine man and turn the key, and then watch out! I'll be dealing with Wheelers climbing the stairs, and Gnomes invading the marble floors and pillars, and there will be no chickens to save us, my friends, because animals are NOT ALLOWED in archives or libraries.

In other news, I'm still working up the courage to try internet dating. I have failed to work on writing any more. I have been reading a satisfying amount of books: got through all the Narnia novels, Crime and Punishment, The Lady and the Unicorn, and a few random fantasy novels.

Upon the printed page,
also by word of mouth,
we have a record of it all
and how, unfearful of deceit,
etched like an equine monster of an old celestial map,
beside a cloud or dress of Virgin-Mary blue,
improved 'all over slightly with snakes of Venice gold,
and silver, and some O's,'
the unicorn 'with pavon high,' approaches eagerly;
until engrossed by what appears of this strange enemy,
upon the map, 'upon her lap,'
its 'mild wild head doth lie.'

-from Marianne Moore's "Sea Unicorns and Land Unicorns"

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Cat Checking Bowl for 15th Time this Morning: Still Empty

The night time breeze last night was amazing; it was the first night of the year warm enough for me to leave the porch door cracked open.

So, my last p.m.s. post was kinda intense, and I don't want it to give people the wrong idea. Sometimes p.m.s. is kinda nice, because it gives me a different perspective on things for a short time. And then it's back to normal with just the memories of the little problems blown up into zeppelins and hot air balloons. Plus my clothes appreciate the warning to prepare for blood. Really, it's amazing how a hormone change you can't even see can alter my general outlook and personality. It's weird how much a personality or mind can be affected by hormones, or drugs, or brain damage, or whatnot.

And also, I am wondering what wants, normal or extreme, my readers harbor and think about.

Saturday, April 09, 2011

No really, heed the warning.

This post is angsty, whingey, and personal on a nearly embarrassing level. If that makes you uncomfortable, do yourself a favor and skip this one. You have been warned.

I had a really good day. Two meals with my family, an unusual amount of socialization, plus some moments at my new job that make me think maybe the other map cataloger will turn out to be a friend rather than just a co-worker. Bonding over, of all things, a lolcat moment. I kan haz friend?

So at the end of it all, when I slid into bed and turned off the light, I expected to fall asleep and wake up to a shiny new day. But instead my brain started turning over events, like brains tend to do at night. Revving up the engine before it shuts down. And I started weeping uncontrollably.

I regretted being alone at that moment, like I seldom do. I spend a lot of time alone these days. Maybe it was all the socializing today that put things in perspective. Maybe too much watching a TV show featuring a happily married wife. I'm not sure I could handle a romantic relationship; it seems like it would require so much sacrifice and time and bother. But I feel like going on thirty as a virgin verges on the ridiculous and possibly the slightly broken. And I would have accepted comfort from someone else, and been told that I am wrong and not broken at all, except it's too late at night to call anyone and my cat wouldn't say that to me, even if he could speak English.

Also, I regret sending my car away like an empty can to the recyclers. It was a good car, a wonderful gift, and although I think I made the right decision financially, I am sad about it too.

Most of the time I enjoy honing my skills as a spendthrift. But I'm also a little tired of it, and of looking at the road ahead, paved with debt, as a repetition of days curling inward. Curtailing expenses so that I can be free of debt, cutting back on events and going out. Not dating yet because I don't feel settled here. Not being able to settle into a home because the libraries can't hire me as a permanent employee. Wanting to save up money to go on a much-needed road trip with my college friends, or a visit to Sweden to see my family, or even catch a bus to Minnesota to spend even just a limited block of hours with my beloved high school buddies. I want to go birdwatching in New Mexico. I want to design a beautiful tattoo and decorate my skin, learn to drive and fix my own motorcycle, repair my clarinet, and join an archery club. I have a lot of wants that seem to be stretching away into a black hole, spaghettification pulling them thinner and thinner as they stretch into my future.

But it's not all so bad. By the time you're reading this I've recovered my equilibrium and am happy enough, as I am 98 percent of the time. I've banished my dissent and disappointment into these words, and cheered myself up by watching my favorite Firefly episode (“Everybody dies alone”). And now it's time to go to bed again, and actually fall asleep this time. “Ya'll gonna be here when I wake up?”

Mal: “A ship like this, be with you 'till the day you die.”

Zoey: “'Cause it's a death trap.”

“That's not-- You are very much lacking in imagination.”

“I imagine that's so, sir.”

“Come on, you haven't even seen most of it. Let me show you the rest. And try to see past what she is, and on to what she can be.”

“What's that, sir?”

“Freedom, is what.”

"I meant what's that.”

Oh, just step around that, I think something must have been living in here. I'm telling you, Zoey: we get a mechanic, get her up and running again. Hire a good pilot, maybe a cook. Live like real people. A small crew, must feel the need to be free, take jobs as they come. Ain't never have to be under the heel of nobody ever again.”

-from Firefly, “Out of Gas”

Monday, March 28, 2011

My life is not an elaborate plotline

I wasn't expecting anime to make me so reflective this weekend. Often anime is pretty silly stuff, which is partly why I enjoy it, but out of the blue, Trigun killed someone in a sadly epic manner, and Black Butler was just dark all the way through. In one case, "I didn't want to die this way," and in another case, having made a contract to die in order to live a certain way. If I died today, what would I regret? What have I lived for? [Insert fortune cookie motto: not to decide is a decision.] I regret living far away from so many people I care about, but everyone is so spread out I can't fix that. And I almost regret not having a significant other, but at the same time I don't, because I've been able to spend my spare time and love on other things. Some of which are just golden calves, but some of whom are people (and a cat) who deserve every penny ounce of it.

It's easy to live though, I really enjoy just being alive. Is that enough? I suppose it depends where we all end up afterwards...

I've been pondering getting a memento mori tattoo. Maybe a little winged hourglass. Too gothic?

Tuesday, February 08, 2011

Jelly Brainies

Being able to look forward to guests visiting makes me really happy. I love having a friend visit. Just one at a time tho, because that's really all I can fit. Anyway, being able to get fun co-op food to share, being more aware of events going on in Madison, trying to decide what Madisonian destinations best fit each person--so good for my soul. Plus it's another excuse to stop pinching pennies for a bit and enjoy living in a modern consumable century.

So, my lease is not up until August, and I've already had to commit to renewing my lease again or not. Kinda soon, innit? Plus, today while I was at work they showed my apartment, and left my light on when they left. I didn't remember they were showing it until I was already walking to work; my apartment wasn't a disaster, but I'd left out a dirty laundry basket and a few things. Maybe leaving my light on was a subtle rebuke. I wonder what a complete stranger thinks when they see my life crammed into this space, or when they see all the cat stuff and no cat (because I'm sure he was hiding by the time they got in the door).

Sunday, November 14, 2010

I Disagree With My Subconscious

I had a dream the other night where I confessed to a dentist that I'd been a small shark in my past life. Huh. I dislike sharks. I wonder why I said that.

And the cat just plopped down on my lap so I'm done.

Sunday, November 07, 2010

Remember Remember Too much In November

After all the years of not participating in National Novel Writing Month because of being busy with school, I missed the start of this year's by a week through sheer disconnectedness. Writing 50,000 words would be hard enough in a month, but I think the missing week would be crippling. So, sigh, I guess I'm not doing it this year either. November is such a confusing month, coming hard on the heels of Halloween and the excitement of costumes, pumpkins, and the living dead. Then there' trying to remember to wish happy Bonfire night to my Scottish friends, worrying about remembering Veterans Day on the 11th, and reminding myself to pay rent. It just took me by surprise that it's novel month too. So I'm starting a novel at least, but doing it at my own apathetic pace. Hopefully it won't fall off my mental bandwagon and die of snakebite and dysentery.

Haha, I'm looking across the room at a big lump under my bed covers. Apparently my cat deals with my being at work all day by crawling in my bed as soon as I leave and sleeping all day like a true teenage angst monster. This is funny on weekends because he's been doing it even when I'm here. We just eventually trade places and take turns sleeping in the coveted warm spot under the blankets. Eventually in late afternoon he'll come out again, fur especially soft from the hours of warm pent-up humidity, and beg for dinner. And then he will be playful, naughty, and psychotically violent in turns while trying to stave off boredom for the rest of the night.

Update from the front lines: yesterday Moby Squix climbed my screen porch door for no understandable reason, just hanging onto the wire with his saggy grey belly pressed against my window. I took it as provocation, started spewing verbal harpoons, and chased him off. He went careening down the brick wall and then up into the tree next to my window, where he proceeded to refuse looking directly at me. Cursed squirrel.

Stay tuned for the shocking conclusion in the next installment!

Note: Please don't take this seriously.

The End.

from Saiyuki Reload vol.8 by Kazuya Minekura