Passing Afternoon Thoughts

Come mid to late afternoon I pretty much always just want a snack and a nap. I miss the good old days of middle school when I'd come home and eat a big ol' bowl of popcorn and lay on the couch and read a book. It was wonderful! These days I'm usually rushing off to something as soon as I get home (if I even go home).

Actually, the last couple of days I've sort of resurrected that habit, but with Law & Order instead of a book and no popcorn. I need some popcorn.

Maybe I'll stop at the store on my way home.

Million Dollar Ba.... zzzzzzz...

I watched Million Dollar Baby last night. I was not, so to speak, all that impressed. I've been wanting to see it since it came out in the theaters and especially since it was nominated for and won several academy awards. It won Best Director(Clint Eastwood), Best Picture, Best Supporting Actor(Morgan Freeman), and Best Actress(Hilary Swank) at the 77th Academy Awards.

The movie had really slow pacing and was repetitive. I commented on how long the movie seemed to be at one point because it felt like I had been watching it for about three hours. I was informed that we were just a little over an hour into the movie. Bleck.

I didn't see any real depth to any of the characters. I didn't feel anything for them. I suspect this may be a combination of bad writing and bad directing. There was nothing new from Morgan Freeman although I know he is quite capable as an actor. Clint Eastwood's character was predictable and I found Hilary Swank's character annoying.

We ended up fast forwarding through part of the end and I didn't feel like I was missing anything. I just didn't care. I really don't understand what all the hype was about. I mean, sure, there was a touching twist at the end, but to really be moved by that you had to be ignoring a lot of basic flaws with the movie.

The next movie I watch had better be a good one! That's all I'm saying!

gah... pain... murp... bleck...

I have a headache this morning. I had it last night too and I kind of knew I'd still have it this morning. My friend and co-worker Steve gave me some Excedrin for tension headaches and, hopefully, it should kick in soon. Although, the tylenol I took last night didn't do anything at all. I hate this. My eyes feel like they're about to implode and my nose is running because it hurts so much. I keep trying to find cool things to put my throbbing head against. I can't concentrate. Misery. Misery. Misery.

Update: But wait... what's this??? I was temporarily distracted from this post and in that time the Excedrin took effect. I feel wonderful! I feel better than wonderful! I feel spectacular! Oh, what a great day! Yesss!

Gee, thanks Freud...

Over my lunch break I fell asleep and dreamt a strange dream. Now, if I'd never read anything that good ol' Siggy Freud said about dreams I would have woken up and thought, 'Wow, what a weird dream!' As it stands though, I woke up and realized that some things were, possibly, bothering me a bit more than my conscious mind has been letting on. My subconscious really couldn't have been more blatant about it.

Well, you know what my conscious mind has to say to my subconscious mind? "Quit being such a whiner. Good gods. You'll get over it."

And my conscious mind is right.

Birth Of A New Woman

Last night I finished reading Wifey by Judy Blume. The story takes place in suburban New York in 1970 and Sandy is tired of being a traditional, submissive wife. She married Norman and had two children mostly because she was expected to. She joined "The Club" and began taking tennis and golf lessons at her husband's insistence. She takes care of the cooking and gives Norm "a little something" on Saturday nights, but she is haunted by the feeling that there should be more to life.

During the course of the story Sandy is sexually awakened and ends up sleeping with her brother-in-law, her best friend's husband and an old flame. She believes that the old flame will leave his wife and marry her and is sorely disappointed when he suggests an arrangement rather than eternal love. Somewhere among this infidelity she contracts gonnorhea which precipitates a confrontation between her and her husband.

In the end Sandy is beginning to make assertive decisions and lines of communication are being opened between her and her husband. She is hopeful. I, however, am skeptical. I don't believe that Norman bringing home a pizza instead of expecting Sandy to cook the day after he hit her and called her a whore is really much of a step forward. Sandy offering to shave her pubic hair to make oral sex more pleasurable to her husband just doesn't seem like much to me. I didn't feel like things had been sufficiently resolved in the end of the book. Even though things seemed to be pointed in the right direction it just didn't seem to me that there was a good enough start.

This being said, I still enjoyed the book very much and was pleased to find that it made me think a bit about my own stances on marriage and monogamy.

It's A Lovely Day For Reading!

I was feeling a bit strange and depressive yesterday, but a quick trip to the bookstore fixed that. I bought two books(and some dessert), The Magician's Nephew by C.S. Lewis and Wifey by Judy Blume.

The Magician's Nephew is a book I've been meaning to buy for awhile now. I've never read The Chronicles of Narnia and it's about time I started because there is a movie version coming in December of this year and it looks as though it may be quite good. I think I tried to read them when I was younger, but they never quite grabbed my attention. Given my unfailing interest and budding(well, maybe a bit more than budding) expertise in young adult literature the series is a must read for me.

Wifey is not at all like the Judy Blume books I read as a child. I do, however, recognize the same style of writing. Judy Blume does an excellent job of creating very unabashedly real characters and just like I related to the characters in Superfudge and Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing as an elementary student I can also relate to her adult characters. I find the main character of Wifey having thoughts that I find familiar, but probably wouldn't openly acknowledge that I'd had them. I find this a little funny because I'm a pretty easy-going, open-book sort of person. It is clear that society has taught me not to talk about some things, though this book might change that a bit. Now I'm a bit more aware that other people are thinking like I do. Wifey can't quite be called a Harlequin romance novel, but it can probably still be classified as trash. In other words, perfect summer reading. I've already read half of it.

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

This moring I read Ernest Hemingway's short story A Clean, Well-Lighted Place. This is a very short story- only a few pages long. As is typical of Hemingway's work the meat of the story is not in what is said, but in the questions and thoughts that are raised in the reader. For me this particular story bred thoughts of aging and my own position in the arch of maturity.

Hemingway's story opens with an old man drinking in a cafe late at night. He likes the cafe at night because it is quiet. The majority of the story is a conversation about the old man that two waiters have, one young and the other older. The younger waiter simply wants the old man to leave so that he can close up the cafe and go home to bed. The older waiter is far more empathetic with the old man. He is concerned about the lonely life the old man lives and the fact that he had tried to kill himself the week before and he understands why the old man stays late in the clean, comfortable cafe. The young waiter doesn't think of the man as being a person, instead he only sees the old man as being a hinderance to his happiness. The older waiter seems to see himself as being not too terribly distant from the position of the old man.

I was reminded of the seven ages of man speech in Shakespeare's As You Like It. The melancholy Jaques maps out seven stages of life, each having its own distinct characteristics. While I don't think that you can delineate the stages of life as clearly as Jaques does, I do believe that they exist and I see these stages of life being lived by the people I know. I think A Clean, Well-Lighted Place reveals the idea that people are more apt to understand those who are in a stage that is close to their own. I, myself, have been accused, by my younger sister, of "crossing over" to adulthood. While this is true in some respects I don't think I've completely left my younger years behind. I remember thinking the way those who are younger than me do, but I very much enjoy my, perhaps, more mature way of thinking.

Anyway, just some thoughts.

Design... Revise... Actualize...

I feel hopeful today. I have a lot of work to do to get my life in order. I'm mostly a complete mess and I'm not sure why that is. I have "a lot of potential" that I just don't ever seem to get around to using.

Now, how to go about this? Should I make a plan and set goals for myself? Should I hire someone(or find a volunteer) to sort of coach me into being a responsible adult and all that rot? Or should I just jump in with both feet and get to it? I personally like the third option best.

In any case, I feel hopeful today.

Cloudy

I just spent a few minutes with my head craned back watching the weather work its way around the sky. Cloudy weather is something that is often used as an ominous sign in literature. Hmmm... pathetic fallacy.(Thanks Steve, I will never forget that again.) Funerals in films are often accompanied by rain storms, etc., etc. While watching the clouds this afternoon a thought occured to me: this idea of cloudy, rainy weather being indicative of sadness is, at least in my world, fundamentally untrue. Those clouds swirling above me were so full of life, so full of change. Cloudy weather always imbues me with a restless energy and the question 'what comes next?'. There is no dark shadow hanging over me. Those clouds are moving, changing, and heavy with life. Beautiful.

My Life As A Musical

I've been listening to the same sappy, sentimental soundtrack all day and I think that I'm going to end up spending a ridiculous amount of time putting together a playlist to fit my sappy, sentimental mood. Sometimes I imagine that my life has a soundtrack... and sometimes I imagine a life to fit the music I'm listening to. The latter of the two is much more fun.

I once saw a collection of stories in a bookstore that were all inspired by songs. And by 'saw' I mean I read half of it. It was interesting and I've often thought of doing the same. Hmmm... perhaps I should.

Coming Soon! A Story Inspired By Song!

Promise

I am finishing the book I'm reading TODAY! End of story.

On Accomplishment

I don't know about other people, but I know that a good portion of my happiness depends very much on what I've accomplished. If I don't feel like I've accomplished enough I plummet into an awful, sticky depression. This is also tricky because even when I've accomplished something I tend to feel that what I've done isn't quite good enough and that is just as bad as not having done it at all. Likewise, if my accomplishment lacks tangible evidence of its existence it is the same as if I've accomplished nothing. This all means I'm very easily thrust into the throes of despair.

Why am I mentioning this? I am mentioning this because I can see clearly that I'm going to have to get something palpable done soon lest I'll be sucked into those murky depths of melancholia. I'm not saying I've not accomplished anything as of late... it's just that I haven't anything to show for what I've built. I need to be able to hand something to someone and say, "Look what I can do!".

That having been said: what I really want to do right now is take a nap... however, I think I'm going to do some reading so that I can say that I finished a book. Maybe I'll even write a bit about it. That will keep me from feeling like an utter failure!

Time Flies...

They say time flies when you're having fun and, of course, it's true. Time has been just wooshing by lately. The past week has taken mere minutes to disappear but, at the same time, so much has happened that it seems like at least a month has passed. It's been a little bitter sweet, this furious flying of time, however, my life feels very lived right now and I like that a lot. Somewhere along the line I started to enjoy both the ups and downs of life rather than waiting around for the ups. There's a lot more to enjoy that way.

One Poem

My Old Friend Experience

I took a long, hot shower,
And put on my virginal, white panties
Today is a new day,
I can start clean and fresh
Innocent.
On second thought,
I'll wear black

O, genuine dawning of day, thou hast touched my heart and head!

This appeared with the sun this morning and should be fun to play with and expand on. I attribute its existence to a bit of manic enjoyment of Shakespeare last night.

Beware! This angel flies to thee and wouldst, if she could, cover thee in kisses sweet as wine and a love as solid as granite. There hast never been a truer being than she, nor a more passionate creature. There is a light in her eyes that shines rolling and liquid like mercury and will poison your blood with but a drop. The aching pain that follows will encompass your every waking moment and infect your dreams like a plague. But, soft, this pain will be as lovely and warm as a newborn babe and thou wilst learn to crave the comfortable death that pulls at your limbs. As swiftly as she has let this love seep from her finger tips, she will be gone. You'll want nothing more than to press your palm to hers and feel that surge of life and lust that so freely flowed before, but she was only yours for a moment and belongs to herself for eternity. You cannot have all that she contains, yet somehow, miraculously, you will find that all she is has found its place within your heart. Do not despair! She will have taught thee how to love with a passion that cannot be surpassed. If thou art faint of heart do not embark upon this journey. This road is long and will make you weary, but the reward is the greatest you will ever be granted.

"Aye, there's the rub."

Life is so complicated! I love that sooo much! We love people that maybe we shouldn't, the ones we love don't love us back, we're tricked into loving someone we didn't mean to love, we can't always trust, families are never perfect, people die much too young, personal vendettas mute common sense and yes, sometimes you have to wonder if your uncle killed your father. The loose ends of life never really seem to tie themselves up very neatly and just when one problem is solved you notice that something else has been steadily unraveling. Aye, there's the rub! However, it's wonderful fun, these ups and downs.

I could probably write a bit about the conflicts in my life that planted this seed of thought, but I think I'll let those thoughts grow a bit. The words will be prettier when they blossom. Instead, I will do something that unnerves me a bit. I will share a bit of creative writing.

This Poem Isn't About You

I have a need,
Not even to know you,
Entirely
Just to taste you

There is a sweetness that lies
Just below your surface,
Underneath that mottled rind
And pith
Washes that delicate drink
That I have divined

I want to drink 'til drunk

The need to taste appulses in my chest,
Volitates wildly within my ribs
If my thirst is not quenched with
The tiniest of tastes
You will haunt me
Like hidden treasure
and secret caves

The Scent of a Woman

Not long ago a friend of mine mentioned that I have a "pleasant smell", which was very nice of him, however, I never realized that he'd ever been close enough to me to pick up a scent. I immediately had images of him as a surreptitious sniffer leaning over and inhaling deeply while I'm momentarily distracted. After the initial shock, I realized that this probably wasn't the case and even if it was, it wouldn't bother me in the slightest.

I decided to share the story with my sister because she thinks much the way I do and I thought she'd be amused by the tale of the surreptitious sniffer... but, the hilarity of my ridiculous imaginings was completely lost on her. She was too busy heartily agreeing with the sniffer. According to her: Yes. I do have a pleasant smell. Not only that but, it is a very distinct smell that is quite noticeable. She insisted that she could walk into a room filled with clothing and be able to pick out the pieces that were mine.

At this point the original surreptitious sniffer was swiftlyswept from my mind by an image of my sister stealing shirts from my closet and burying her nose in them. This, I must admit, was even more unnerving... and it got worse. Almost as soon as the original had been replaced by my sister in my wild imaginings, a new image flooded my brain. In this picture both the surreptitious sniffer and my sister were present. They were having coffee. However, the coffee was being completely forgotten in the wake of their intent conversation about my smell.

Eventually I returned to reality and when I did I began to wonder about the science of scent. I'd seen a television show on the Discovery Channel, PBS, or the like about a study that was done where women were asked to sniff t-shirts that men had worn to sleep for a week. The outcome was that women seemed to prefer the scent of men who had immune systems that were the opposite of their own. I assume that this is nature's way of making sure there is always one parent that is healthy enough to take care of the offspring. The women found the scents of men who had the same sort of immune systems to be more like the scent of their brothers or fathers. I wonder if my sister, perhaps, finds my scent more noticeable than that of others due to a combination of familiarity and the fact that I have a different father than she. Does the immune system theory work conversely with men prefering the scent of women who will stay healthy when they are sick? Whose smell do I prefer? Do I more readily notice the smell of some people? Do I dislike the smell of people I dislike?

In any case, I am newly interested in the science of scent and am devouring information about pheromones and what not. Very interesting stuff. You'll probably hear more later.

And don't be alarmed if you notice that I've become a surreptitious sniffer.

One should always be in love. That is the reason one should never marry. -Oscar Wilde

Recently there have been a few men in my life who are interesting, handsome, smart, funny and seem to enjoy my company. We get along spectacularly and have friendships that could probably pretty easily move into a long term relationship. I like them. All of them.

However, I like being single too. I am enthralled with the possibilities and opportunities that I might have because I'm not tied down to a boyfriend. I love developing little crushes on people on a daily basis(I guess having a boyfriend really wouldn't change that). If I had a boyfriend, Prince Charming couldn't swoop in at any moment and sweep me off my feet. I'm only responsible for myself and to myself. I'm perfectly free to have male friends and flirt with them horribly without the risk of making someone jealous. There are no fights. That's a big one right there. I don't have to worry about or plan for the future because it is just mine. There are sooooo many reasons so stay single.

That having been said, if the opportunity becomes immanent, I'm sure I'll end up with a boyfriend of some sort. We'll just have to wait and see.

hmmm... a blog.

Well then, here I go. I've joined the masses. We'll see where this leads... if anywhere.

My thoughts today:

I have a story that needs to be written... a novel perhaps. I need to get on that, make myself an honest woman. I was born bound to creativity and I need to live that life instead of fearing it. The words have been rolling around in my head for so long.

I have stories(plural) that need to be written. If I am being honest.

I would like so much to disassociate myself from part of my family. It is so difficult and frustrating trying to be a part of their world, especially when they've never been a part of mine. Do I have to call them family? Sometimes I resolve not bother with it anymore, but it wouldn't be fair to those kids. Maybe someday it will feel more like they're actually my siblings. Besides, I've been trying for so long I don't think I know how to stop.

Today was painful though. I must admit it hurt.