The Freewheelin' Di Winson

2004-05-18T15:00:00.000-05:00

This is NOT an exit.

I merely found a template I liked better. And I didn't feel like fiddling with republishing anything on this one and running the risk of losing everything, or throwing off the format or whatever and generally just screwing it all up, so I simply moved.

Here.

And re-titled, sorta. And I'm trying to bring the Mini-Me pool picture with me, but so far I haven't figured out that part. But I shall.

I might even activate the Comments thingie!

: )

2004-05-08T23:45:00.000-05:00

"Mercedes: Number 1!"

So, I spend a portion of today riding in/driving a Mercedes Kompressor. Red. Convertible.

And I realize that, all things considered, I am not a car person.

I want a car that is comfortable. That rides smooth (smoothly). That runs (mainly). That has a kick-ass stereo.

Those are the qualities that really matter.

I do not care what the car looks like.

(Much.)

Still ... there's something kinda cool about driving a Benz. Let's be honest.

: )

2004-05-05T22:29:00.000-05:00

And now: the carnival.

And a very scary carnival it is, indeed.

Lotsa "more tattoos than teeth" people. EEK!!

: )

But earlier today ...

I walk out of the news office around 12:30 p.m., and I take a look around me, and everything is stunningly beautiful. And I had strongly suspected when I left my desk that that would be IT for me, for the day, but once I am outside: There is no doubt.

NO doubt.

So I head to the lake. And before I get there, I notice a field of yellow flowers. Probably goldenrod, I dunno. Hold on, I'm actually gonna LOOK IT UP ... and no, it's not goldenrod, and I thought maybe ragwort (ragweed??!) ... anyhoo, I decide I want a photo of a field of yellow flowers.

And I swear to God, the instant I get out, my throat starts feeling kinda constricted-like ... and the weeds feel like they're cutting my legs ... and I realize I am SO not an outdoorsy girl.

(But maybe in my next life.)

(But no, in my next life, I wanna be a professional baseball player.)

And the yellow flower photos turn out OK, but the best ones are the ones of the withered, gone-to-seed dandelions. And the clover flower.

Then I decide to head to the lake and walk on the bike trail. Only when I get there, I see that the trail is now a hiking trail ? no bicycles allowed! And they've torn up part of the trail and taken out the bridge, so now it's only half a trail, but that's OK.

I shoot as I go, and I realize that my chances of seeing any "live" wildlife are about nil because I tromp through the "woods" ? on the concrete trail! ? with my billfold and cell phone and Coach Swiss Army knife and keys and camera and McDonald's cup with the remaining ice from my Coke.

But that's OK because, truthfully, I'm a little skittish. And on the way back, as I'm taking a picture of a flower that looks like a miniature daisy, I jump after hearing something in the grass ... so I watch for something to move ... and it's a SNAKE! And it goes slithering off before I can even think about snapping a shot.

I realize that there are probably about a thousand kinds of plants in those woods, and I'm lucky if I can name five.

If I were wider awake right now, I would post some pics.

But then again, I might not post any pics until I come up with a new & improved template. There are aspects of this one that I like, but the red: It's gotta go.

Maybe one of these days I can spend about 10 hours online, playing around and developing a site (yeah, right) that I am satisfied with.

Maybe.

: )

2004-04-28T22:47:00.000-05:00

The circus is in town today.

Or, rather, it was; I am quite certain they are long gone by now.

I got to see elephants, though, and that's really all that matters. Pictures later, maybe, but right now I can't manage to look up that FTP-coding for when I want to post a pic, and God knows I don't have it memorized!

: )

Just had a nice visit to the Orchard chatroom. I have only been posting over there for about a month-and-a-half, and I have to say: I love it. I adore the people on there, and now I am thinking I seriously should have arranged my schedule to be in Dayton this weekend ... but I didn't.

Got invited to Taft, though, so I'm making plans already!

: )

Had a moment today. I was reading an e-mail from my best pal from college, and she told me she sometimes gets lonely. And she doesn't have that many friends near her. And I wish, oh, how I wish, that she and I could spend an hour together each morning, drinking coffee, and talk about all the things we haven't talked about (and anything else) over the last 17 years because of the time and distance between us.

Isn't it amazing when you realize you have loved someone this long, and that you always will? I am so lucky to have some friends that I have been friends with for years and years, and sometimes when I stop to think about how much they really mean to me ... it sorta simply blows me away.

And makes me realize there's always more I could do, as a friend.

I get so caught up in trivial stuff, sometimes. I get so lost in my head. I totally lose track of time and lose sight of the important things and ... yeah.

But I feel as if I am finding my way back.

And it's springtime.

: )

2004-04-23T22:38:00.000-05:00

I missed my 20-year reunion.

Kinda.

Well, we didn't exactly have a 20-year reunion. But if we'd had one, 2003 would've been it. And we didn't, so I didn't actually miss it.

And yet, I did.

And now my sister is talking about HER 20th reunion. Later this year.

I want a new template with a white background. I like photos on white.

(I also like baloney on white. With American cheese and yellow mustard. None o' that Dijon crap!)

My hair is darker now than it ever has been.

I really shouldn't post when I don't have anything to say ...

2004-04-21T20:56:00.000-05:00

Piddling

Just fixed my printer. By unplugging it and then plugging it back in again.

What a mechanical mastermind I am!

: )

The L Word(s) for Today: Lounge. Laze. Leisure. Take yer pick.

I "piddled around," as my mother would say, most of the afternoon. Which is pretty much what I needed to do, I have decided, because this was the first day since Friday that I have felt well.

And then the printer fucked up. Which always annoys me beyond belief, and it's never anything too serious (I guess?), but it aggravates me, just the same.

So I left it and went searching for some photogenic clouds but didn't really find any. A few cumulus (sp?) or perhaps nimbocumulus (sp?). And whilst I grocery-shopped, rain began falling, and when I went to my car, I noticed the sun was trying to peep through, so I went searching for a rainbow.

Didn't find one, though.

And I remembered one time, a long time ago in my hometown, for some reason my sister and I were walking on a sidelwalk along Main Street, toward the downtown area (which is pretty much the same as the uptown area), and for the first time in my life, I saw a rainbow that arced (arcked? arched? what the hell word is it?) completely across the sky, forming the perfect parabola or whatever it is that rainbows form, and it looked, to me, kind of like the perfect "Welcome to Our Town" greeting.

But, of course, it didn't stay.

And then tonight, driving home from across town where I ate nachos and did laundry and watched Seinfeld and part of a rather charming movie I've seen before called The Object of My Affection, I saw some crazy lightning streaking all across the southeastern sky. Decided I might try setting up the tripod (got 2 tripods, actually, for my b'day!) but then didn't see another flash the rest of the way home. Wouldn't you know.

2004-04-16T00:03:00.000-05:00

5 minutes to spare!

The L Word for Today: Was gonna be late.

But yes, I DID get my taxes done in about 90 minutes this afternoon. Some scoff at a person waiting 'til the last day to do them, but considering that once again, I had to PAY (couple hundred this year, which is better than it's been for the last 4 or 5), what's the rush? Why hurry?

Plus, saying I had to go do my taxes provided a nice reason to stumble out of work just past noon. Which is always a good thing ... even if I DID have to cover a bored meeting tonight.

: )

And no, I am not homonyminally* challenged.

The NEW L Word for Today: Loopy. Although it supposedly means "crazy" or "foolish," when I use it, I mean sort of silly and "out of it," kinda like how I got when I had some kinda reaction to that flu shot one time. And I felt nearly that same way, sorta lightheaded and dizzy and ... well, LOOPY! ... when I got out of bed this morning, so that will be my LWFT.

: )

Yeah. I am loopy.

* — My 2nd invented word in the last 2 days. The 1st being "spleep" ... but I forget the context for that one.

2004-04-13T22:22:00.000-05:00

The L Word

So lil' sis gave me tapes of episodes 1 through 10 Sunday morning, and by 11:30 p.m. Monday, I had already watched all 10. Including a few rewinds (heh).

LOVE The L Word.

Not watching? Too bad.

Lemme just say, for the record, that I have never seen Flashdance. Even though my wardrobe, during most of the 1980s, resembled that worn by Jennifer Beals. Well, at least the cut-off inside-out sweatshirts. (STILL enjoy that inside-out look ... mainly because I like that "It was still dark when I got dressed this morning, and I really don't give a fuck if my shirt's on right, anyway" appearance.)

No one believes me when I tell them my Flashdance secret, but it's true. Or ture, as Tee-Hee might say. Never saw it when it played in theaters, and now, every time I see that it's on TV, I always get in on the same part, that final dance scene. And for some reason, I always say to myself, "Oh, cool! I'm finally getting to see Flashdance!" But, alas: It's always that final scene.

Fast-forward to 2004 and Jennifer Beals is portraying the super-cool but Xtremely hot Bette Porter.

Oh.
My.
God.

(I requested the Flashdance DVD for my birthday. Only 5 shopping days left!)

What a show! In 2 short days, I became hooked. Still haven't seen episodes 11 through 13 (season finale), but I will.

Oh, I will.

: )

The L Word for today: Lethargic. As in: I have been lethargic for the past two-and-a-half weeks. (Must be the time change. Or the seemingly endless cloudy gray sky.)

: /

Over the Rhine is playing at Greenville College tomorrow night. Chances are, I will not be going.

Does it make me sound old to say that the thought of getting home after midnight on a Wednesday night — not to mention the approximately 4-hour round trip — keeps me from making a decision to drive up there? In addition to the fact that it's supposed to be an outdoor concert ... and temperatures are probably going to be in the low-50s at best ...

If I were 22, I'd be going. Probably.

2004-04-08T13:59:00.000-05:00

News of the Day

This story from Reuters just brought tears to my eyes.

And I am not quite sure why.

Aside from my love of The Little Prince. And the fact that they have never recovered Antoine de Saint-Exupery's body.

France Identifies 'Little Prince' Author's Plane

MARSEILLE, France (Reuters) — A plane raised from the Mediterranean 60 years after it crashed, killing author Antoine de Saint-Exupery, has been identified and will be put on display in southern France, officials said Wednesday.

Saint-Exupery, whose fable "The Little Prince" is considered a classic of flight, love and loneliness, disappeared on July 31, 1944, during a wartime aerial reconnaissance mission.

"The wreck of the plane that was raised last autumn near the Riou island has been identified as the (Lockheed Lightning) P-38 on which Saint-Exupery made his last voyage," said Jean-Claude Gaudin, mayor of southern Marseille.

He said the wreck would be exhibited in a Marseille museum to pay tribute to the writer and aviator who died a year after the book was published.

A French diver discovered the remains of the airplane off the coast of Marseille four years ago, after a fisherman hauled up a bracelet belonging to the author and aviator in 1998.

It was raised from 80 meters (262 ft) last October and, though analysis showed the plane was Saint-Exupery's, it remains unclear why it crashed. The author's body has never been recovered.

Saint-Exupery, born in 1900 to an aristocratic French family, tried several times to study liberal arts before deciding to become a pilot.

As an adult, his passion for flying inspired "Vol de Nuit" ("Night Flight") and in 1943 "The Little Prince," an all-time bestseller about a pilot downed in the Sahara who meets a mysterious prince with whom he makes an interplanetary journey.

Song in my head, right now: "Beautiful Day" by U2.

You thought you'd found a friend
To take you out of this place
Someone you could depend on
In return for grace ...

Happy birthday, Cousin Karen!

: )

2004-04-07T22:02:00.000-05:00

Humpday

All I can say is this has been a sucky week so far, work-wise.

And I refuse to rant 'n' rave online about anyone, personally or professionally. Just one o' those things I decided, early on, JUST in case anyone I know or have ever known in "real time" (as opposed to "online," although sometimes those 2 realms or universes actually do intersect) stumbles upon this here ... journal or whatever.

However: Let's just say it's rough going back after a week of vacation. A week in which I absolutely refused even to LOOK at a newspaper, including the one I work for. And we all know the week probably would've been better had I hopped in my car and driven somewhere far, far away and much sunnier, but I didn't.

And besides, if I had gone, I wouldn't have had that all-important chat Friday night.

So, all in all, it was a mediocrily (??) good week.

And this week has been kind of a fog. And maybe that's to be expected, since I've always had this Easter-week thing, though I can't say I have been feeling particularly spiritual.

I am having one of those feelings, however, that I am on the verge of something great. And I like that feeling.

: )

Had to smile last night watching Judging Amy when Amy told Lauren about how she used to (and sometimes still does) go to her "parallel universe" where everything would be just the way she wanted it to be. And it reminded me of me and certain times in my life, one time in particular, and also of The Lovely Bones and how every person's heaven is exactly what their own perception of heaven should be.

The Shield, however, was more than just a little bit disturbing.

On a totally unrelated note: My movie guru sent me off to find Soldier's Girl, based on the true story of Barry Winchell, and it was an amazing movie. Beautiful and devastating. A love story.

And finally: I am the only person I talk to (!!) on a regular basis who had any interest whatsoever in watching the NCAA women's basketball championship last night between UConn and Tennessee, and somehow I managed to forget about it, completely! Didn't even THINK about it one time last night, in fact, and might not have realized it until midday if I hadn't accidentally turned on ESPEN this a.m. and seen the highlights.

Odd. I used to be a sports editor.

2004-04-04T00:55:00.000-06:00

New Shoes

Somehow, it seemed important that I wear new shoes today. Which, technically, was yesterday, considering we are now nearly an hour into Sunday.

Make that nearly 2 hours into Sunday, thanks to Daylight Savings Time. Which I KNOW is Daylight Saving Time, but everyone pronounces it "savings," like it's some kind of bank or something.

And all it really means, to me, is that starting tomorrow (today, actually), the days will seem longer than the nights.

I welcome that.

Brand/model: K-Swiss Ascendor 7.0. I have had these shoes for a year now; matter of fact, they were a birthday gift last year, but I had not yet taken them out of the box. Until today. They are actually tennis shoes — of course, I call almost all athletic shoes "tennis shoes" or "gym shoes" (never cared much for the word "sneakers"), but as it turns out, there are shoes made specifically for playing tennis. And for running. And even for walking ... but truthfully, the only pair of walking shoes I ever owned were remarkably UNcomfortable for walking; conversely (no pun or brand association intended!), I have found that running shoes are among the most comfortable shoes for walking.

Anyhoo, I had a pair of Ascendors last year that I was trying to break in for tennis (they are quite stiff, at first), so I took to wearing them almost all the time because they were just weird-looking enough — and reflector-ized!! — and comfy that I really liked 'em ... but not for tennis ... until they were almost to the point that they had no support left ... and now they're all grungy and what-not and PERFECT, but today (yesterday, Saturday, whenever), I wanted to wear the new ones.

I had to wear the new ones.

So, I did.

And today (Saturday) was a good day.

Amazing, sometimes, what a conversation can do. And some sunshine.

2004-04-03T00:32:00.000-06:00

To Love Somebody

When you love someone, really love someone ...

... all that matters is her happiness.

I have always known this, but for way too long now, I have been putting my own selfish, immature ideas about how things like this were supposed to work ahead of what I knew to be true.

Never again.

Oh, I will still be selfish and immature; those characteristics are in my nature!

: )

Regarding love, though: No.

Today is the first day of the rest of my life.

And better yet: It's SATURDAY!!!

: )

2004-04-02T05:08:00.000-06:00

Spring Break 2004: Day 5

Well, fuck.

In addition to being annoyed that I am awake at this time of day, I am annoyed that I just wrote a post and had it disappear when I hit the dreaded "Post & Publish" button because my Internet server had disconnected ... something that has been happening just sporadically enough to aggravate me over the last couple of weeks.

: (

I saw The Passion of the Christ yesterday.

I wish I could write something profound about it, but I cannot. I also cannot recommend it.

The movie did a very credible job depicting the graphic brutality and violence of the final 12 hours of Jesus' life; however, I find myself wondering why someone would choose to make a movie focusing on the final 12 hours of Jesus' life — aside from taking artistic license to show the seemingly unending brutality and violence, condensed into a 2-plus-hour show.

Honestly, if I had seen one more slow-motion close-up of Jesus falling to the ground ...

Maybe I need a spirituality check-up.

Or, maybe the movie is not all that good. Or, maybe it should have taken more time to delve into some of the characters who took part in the crucifixion. Maybe it did not give enough snippets from Jesus' interaction with his mother and with his followers to give a true sense of the spirituality — the passion — of this man. This son of God.

(I also wonder why such lengths were taken to use the authentic language and English subtitles, but then to use dialogue that seemed so slang-y and inappropriate in some places.)

Maybe I just need a couple of days to think about it all.

2004-04-01T10:33:00.000-06:00

Spring Break 2004: Day 4

Damn, I woke up too late to see most of Courtney Love's appearance on The View. Which seems about as unlikely as ... well, I can't even think of a good analogy. Or even a bad analogy.

(Courtney being on this show being the unlikely part ... not me oversleeping.)

I think Courtney is incredibly talented. And pretty. And funny as hell. And sometimes, I can't get the "Someday, you will ache like I ache" lyric from "Doll Parts" out of my head.

All of which are reasons I hope that someday, Courtney gets her shit together (re: drugs) completely.

Ooh: Edie Falco is a babe. Hmmm, maybe I didn't miss the best part of The View today. And maybe I need to break down and splurge and get me The Sopranos DVD set (or sets), finally.

Or maybe it would be easier to get HBO ... but I'd still have to get all caught up, wouldn't I?

2004-04-01T01:04:00.000-06:00

April's Fool

I really like this time o' night.

Morning.

Whatever.

2004-03-31T16:23:00.000-06:00

Spring Break 2004: Day 3

Outside has been just about as gray and gloomy as it could possibly be today (without raining). And my mood seems to match the weather.

Song in my head: "Like the Weather" by the 10,000 Maniacs. (Of COURSE!)

: )

What a cold and a rainy day
Where on earth is the sun ... anyway?

E-mail o' the day: Something from my bank titled "Tax Help for Late Filers." Hmmm, correct me if I'm wrong, but is April 15 not still the filing deadline? And is today not March 31 — a full 15 days away from April 15?

So, just how well does my bank think it knows me? Huh??!

2004-03-30T23:25:00.000-06:00

Alone

I have a feeling I have been spending too much time alone. Which is precisely the reason I can't go anywhere, right now: I don't want to be alone.

Looks like I might need to get out of the house for most of tomorrow. For sanity's sake.

: )

One of my all-time favorite Mary Chapin Carpenter songs was on that tape I tossed out. I discovered it one day whilst I was cleaning (coincidence?), and it was one of those tunes you listen to, and you swear you've heard it before but you don't know where. But it doesn't matter, really.

It's a love song.

Come on Home

Slowly as you look at me
In your eyes I can't believe
All the love I'm seeing now
Plain as day to me somehow
Oh, love, come on home

Promises a heart can keep
Happiness is you and me
Never was a dream so right
Love has finally come in sight
Oh, love, come on home

You fit into my life and
You seem so right like someone planned it
You give yourself to me and
You give so easily, seems like you always understand

Everything says you are the one
Time is shining like the sun
Telling my heart what to say
Growing old with you someday
Oh, love, come on home....

— Mary Chapin Carpenter

I adore MCC. Wonder what she's recording, these days.

2004-03-30T14:53:00.000-06:00

Spring Break 2004: Day 2

Just ran across something I should've thrown out but didn't. Something I shouldn't've read, then, but did.

And now I have The Cure's "Picture of You" in my head ... but it wasn't a picture I ran across. Mere words.

And just to prove how serious I am about this cleaning jag, I just threw away 3 cassettes: Carole King's Tapestry, Mary Chapin Carpenter's Hometown Girl and Book of Love's Book of Love. And I NEVER throw away music, but ... what the hell, I can't play them in my car, and besides, I have the CDs, anyway, 2 copies of Book of Love's album, now that I think about it, or at least, I did, at one time.

2004-03-29T13:38:00.000-06:00

Spring Break 2004: Day 1

"How I Spent My Morning" would be far too boring a post; let's just say it involved lots of quality time spent in the bathroom, scrubbing and what-not, and leave it at that, shall we?

Daytime TV is amusing. Helen Mirren on The View: YAY! I adore her and am pleased to find out that Det. (? — can't remember what her official title is) Jane Tennison is back, apparently on BBC, but who knows, maybe I will be able to find it on PBS. LOVE Prime Suspect. Yes, I do.

: )

The Food Network apparently has reworked its daytime schedule. A little too much Sarah Moulton ... no offense to her or her show, and I do adore the fact that she's a lefty, but ... I dunno, not enough chaos going on in her kitchen, a la Racheal Ray or Mario or Jamie Oliver (*swoon*).

The Weather Channel has been pretty much WRONG with the area forecast for the last 3 days. Which isn't necessarily all that upsetting, considering they've been predicting rain and it's been mostly sunny every day!

: )

I am officially giving up on All My Children. Far too depressing. Primarily, I am aggravated beyond belief that every bad thing the writers can dream up happens to Bianca, daytime's token lesbian. Oh, wait, she does have a girlfriend (Lena) and a best friend (Maggie) who appears to have some kind of crush on Bianca. But still. What is it with the daytime writers, particularly AMC's, and their insistence on torturing infants/children?

Blah. Too much of a downer. Next!

And just when I needed something to make me smile, this is what I saw out my living-room window (the one just beyond my monitor):

I heard a bit of a commotion and looked out to see a male cardinal bathing himself in the small "stream" that has formed between the edge of my yard and that of the neighbor's (actually, it's my State Farm agent's office!), which kind of slants downward. And last night, while I was driving home in the deluge — in-between hydroplaning a couple of times and nearly being run off the road by a semi — and could barely even see the road, at times, I was cursing the rain ... but today, when outside it is sunny and cool and just beautiful, really, I am glad for the rain and the leftover water in my yard.

Because I had a difficult time getting a good shot of Mr. Redbird (through the not-so-clear window glass and the screen), I moved to my bedroom to see if I could get a better angle. The male cardinal had flown away, but the female was flitting around the branches of an evergreen tree, so I snapped a few photos of her before she, too, moved inside the tree, possibly to the family's nest. Saw a squirrel and a sparrow, too; guess that evergreen is a popular place.

And at the office next door, they leave the door open on nice days like this. And I could hear the people inside, perfectly clearly, through my window while I took a 15-minute nap.

I was thinking, earlier, that this was a great day because 1. I haven't left the house, except to take some trash out to the can, and 2. I haven't spent any money, but then I realized I did write some checks to pay some bills earlier, so yes, I did, indeed, spend some money.

But it's still a great day ...

: )

2004-03-28T22:12:00.000-06:00

Georgia Tech 79, Kansas 71 (OT)

And so, today I found myself taking a surprise mini-road trip to St. Louie to pick up K to go see my first-ever (is that redundant, to say "first-ever"? I mean, if you say "first," doesn't that suffice??!) regional championship game in the men's NCAA basketball tournament. And I must say, I was pretty damn excited because in all those years as a sports editor, I had never managed to go to any of the tournament games, despite the fact that I've pretty much followed the tourney since 1983. When N.C. State defeated Phi Slamma Jamma (a.k.a. Houston) on a last-second shot. After I had fallen in love with Jim Valvano and his team.

Anyhoo, we went to the Eddie Jones Dome to discover that (surprise!) the place was packed with Kansas fans. No big shocker there, considering Missouri is practically their home state. Or their next-door-neighbor state. No kidding, it was like 13-to-1, the ratio of KU fans to Tech fans ... plus we had some somewhat mouthy woman sitting next to us, so K and I pretty much had to root for Tech ... which was cool because they had this 7-foot-1 center from Australia who reminded me of Luc Longley of the long-ago Bulls and this AMAZING point guard named Jarrett Jack who, in addition to having a very cool name, scored 29 points to go with 9 rebounds and 4 steals. Plus he looks a little like Willis Drummond.

: )

Guy behind us resembled Garth of Wayne's World. He would've been incredibly annoying if I'd really had a strong feeling for either team. Especially if I'd had a strong feeling for KU.

: )

Right now I am watching the ending of Notting Hill, a movie I've tried to watch at least 3 times. I still say Hugh Grant bears an uncanny resemblance to our former mayor ... who is female. Their coloring is completely different (she with kind of a dark complexion, dark hair, green eyes, Hugh all pasty and British [!], brown hair, blue eyes), but something about their hair (kinda cowlicky in front and sorta humpy) and their expressions ... I dunno, they remind me of each other. And I have yet to see them in the same room at the same time, so ... who knows?

; )

I got rained on and nearly to the point of being soaked no less than 3 times today.

All the more reason it was a very good day.

: )

On the drive over, whilst listening to Unforgettable Fire CD, I had this thought:

I wish you could see me the way you saw me when you didn't know it was me.

(Although I know that last "me" should be "I.")

: )

Julia Roberts is beautiful. And she doesn't remind me of anyone but Julia Roberts.

I am crunching on her right now, telling Hugh/Pat she wants to spend time with him, to see if maybe he might like her again.

Damn, I know that feeling.

All
too
well.

: )

I think I need to change these colors. Sometime soon.

2004-03-27T23:17:00.000-06:00

Taking Lives

This movie begins and ends with my very favorite U2 song, ever: "Bad."

That made me very, very happy.

: )

Plus, how can you go wrong with Angelina Jolie and Ethan Hawke? Lisa and Jesse, right there onscreen together.

2004-03-27T16:03:00.000-06:00

Critical Mess

I have developed a plan for my vacation, which I am henceforth referring to as Spring Break:

Spring cleaning!

Di: I have to do it. This place has hit critical mass!
The Lovely: You mean, critical mess!
Di: Heh. Yeah. You're SOOOO funny ... but, you're right.
The Lovely: Need me to come over to help you throw anything out?
Di: Uhm, no. You can come over once I'm finished.

This will be good for my soul, I have decided.

Nothing is secure.

I have broken down my house into rooms: Bedroom I, Bedroom II, Kitchen, Living Room, Bathroom. (Utility Room I and II can wait 'til summer, I have decided). From there, I have decided upon 4 categories regarding all of the "things" I have: Keep, Toss, Things I Might Be Able to Sell on eBay, Electronics.

I have 1 week to accomplish my goal.

I might not even reckonize this place once I am finished.

* Looking around *

I might need more than 1 week!

: )

Random quote: "She's in my heart. She's in my heart. Always has been, always will be. It's as simple as that." — Jackson Montgomery, All My Children, March 25, 2004

(Did I actually just quote a soap opera character, just then?)

: )

2004-03-26T22:23:00.000-06:00

I'm on VACATION!!!!

Yeah, I planned to take a week's vacation the week after my birthday (April 18), but I was kind of hankering for some time off before then ... for my own sanity ... and then it started looking like I might not be able to take any until ... well, too long from now ... so I decided: this week.

I am going on vacation THIS WEEK! (Or next week, however you look at it.)

Starting tonight, I am on vacation. For a week.

What to do, what to do ...

I should go on an adventure.

But then again ... my life is a bit of an adventure, most days.

: )

I should tape this link up to the left, but that would mean going to the settings and messing with the template and all that and ... ugh, I just don't feel like it.

(Have I ever mentioned my disdain for coding and all that what-not?)

2004-03-24T22:01:00.000-06:00

OK, so maybe I don't need a tripod.

On Tuesday, Matt tells me about a great photo-op of the moon and Mars, but then I get all bummed out because ... yeah, it's cloudy all day and night. And then I nearly forget about it today because I find myself — as I sometimes get after I have been concentrating really hard for an extended period of time (or for even what seems to be an extended period of time ... which, in this case, was approximately a week, give or take a few random hours in-between) — COMPLETELY unable to concentrate. I manage to get through work and then home by noon, and most of the day is spent in some kinda la-la land ...

And then, tonight, I step outside whilst doing laundry disguised as watching the dog, and there's the moon and Mars, just sorta hanging out together in the western sky. And my first thought is, "Cool," And my second thought is, "My camera!" (These thoughts were vocalized; hence, the quotation marks.) And I realize that I am camera-less (WHEN will I learn?), so I hop into my car and speed across town, gather up both cameras and speed back over. I think about stopping along the way, but I am perilously close to being out of gas — which means no driving out toward the airport, free from roofs and branches and wires and other impediments that send my cameras' autofocuses (autofoci?) into disarray — so I must first get gas before I can even think about shooting pictures.

And the reason I am hurrying around is because there are clouds in the sky. Not heavy, sky-covering clouds like yesterday and last night, but clouds that could, if they so decided, cloud my view of the moon and Mars.

And suddenly, I like the fact that I have been known to drive a little too fast to catch up to a sunset. Or a moonrise. Or the one time I went to cover a track and field meet, and on the way back to town, I began listening to a regional or maybe sectional softball game that had gone into extra innings, and the closer I got to home, the more I realized how exciting the finish of this game would be, so I instead veered off to the town where this game was being played and drove to the park and ventured onto the field (it's OK: I am media) just in time to get this great shot of a runner sliding past third and (apparently) being tagged out but called safe as the pitcher and the catcher and the umpire all watched the play. (If memory serves, the girl eventually scored the winning run. I entered the photo in a statewide contest and ended up getting 2nd or 3rd, don't remember which, all I know is, it was the best of the top 3 photos, but the winning picture was a routine shot of a girl jumping a hurdle — the kind of shot I used to take at least 25 of during any track and field season. [Hurdle shots are easy: You simply focus on the hurdle and wait 'til the hurdler you are shooting goes over it.] Definitely NOT a contest winner, even if I hadn't had a photo entered in the contest.)

Anyhoo, I shoot photos of the moon and Mars with my Kodak and the Olympus, and once again I am lamenting my lack of a tripod (what are they, like, $5 at Wal-Jack?). And then I spy, in the landlords' yard, one of those lawn jockeys, so I squat down next to it and kind of use the thing's head as sort of a stabilizer. But the sky is too dark and I apparently don't hold quite still enough to get a perfectly clear photo.

But when I look through all my pictures, I find one that I shot sans lawn jockey tripod, and I realize: Who needs a tripod, really?

Mars looks like a musical note, I think.

: )

2004-03-23T22:53:00.000-06:00

"We're goin' to the zoo, zoo, zoo ..."

"You can come, too, too, too!"

I think I remember a song like that, from my childhood. Along with a storybook about kids going to the zoo, and they make this train-like thingie with boxes and what-not. Might be called Do You Know the Way to the Zoo? or something like that.

I know, I know: That's exactly what Google is for. But again: Not in the mood.

Besides, I just Googled to make sure that this beautiful beast is, indeed, a jaguar.

It occurred to me, just now, that I am somewhat animal ignorant. Oh, sure, I know the difference between an elephant and a camel and a frog, but when it comes to the fine-tuning — being able to tell a leopard from a jaguar from a cheetah — well, I am admittedly quite lame.

Maybe I need me one o' those pocket guides. Kinda like the one I wanted for weather, once upon a time, or the one I almost got my mom for birds. Oh, sure, I can look up any animal on the Net, but a book ... ah, a book. If you have a book, you have reference material you can carry with you.

Course, a laptop computer with wireless service would suffice, too.

Course, my laptop is still sitting there, broken. And it's not like I really took it anywhere, anyways.

(Why do I continue to type "anyways" when I never actually say the word "anyways"?)

Next slide. *ca-click!*

"It stinks in the penguin house." — Kurt on Sunday, March 21, 2004

(Yeah, but not as much as in the monkey house.)

*ca-click*

For M., wherever I may find her ...

: )

Finished an annoying project today at work AND found out I get 30 vacation days this year, thanks to some corporate screw-up or something. Which is DOUBLE what I normally get — and is 9 more than what I originally told I was going to get, thanks to the corporate screw-up.

Which means, in theory, I could take off a whole month ... and still have, like, 5 days to spare!

"Thirty days hath September, April, June and November ..."

Odd. I think those are my 4 favorite months. In this order: April (my birthday, Easter, transition from spring to summer), September (fall weather, colors, lotsa sunshine), June (Mom's birthday, school's out), November (Thanksgiving, crazy holiday shopping, football playoffs).

OK, maybe I like May and July better than November. And March has its moments. And October is cool. And I can't count out December because ... well, yeah. December.

Well, anyways, I like 'em all better than January or February. Ugh-fest!

'Cept, of course, when it snows.

2004-03-20T22:22:00.000-06:00

The Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Kate Winslet is beautiful.

Something about her reminds me so much of my pal Kara. And I can't even say what it is because I really, truly do not know. They really don't look alike, they don't sound alike ... I dunno, it's strange.

I have never seen Kate give a bad performance. Granted, I've seen her in only a few movies, relatively speaking: Heavenly Creatures, Titanic, The Life of David Gale. Still, she never disappoints.

Went to see Eternal Sunshine this evening. I originally headed out for the 1:30 p.m. showing but got as far as the interstate and thought, damn, I'm too tired to drive all the way there and see a movie. Plus a storm was approaching, and I wanted to sit and listen to it.

And I did.

And then I went to the 4:20 showing.

Sat down and almost immediately had a wadded-up napkin land on the floor next to me. I looked around, thought it was my imagination ... and then a napkinwad hit me in the shoulder. Turns out a couple I knew were sitting a few rows behind me. They asked me to come sit with them, so I did ... even though, truthfully, sometimes I really really prefer to watch a movie alone. Or at least alone amongst the hundred or so other people in the theater.

I can't quite decided, just yet, what I thought of the movie.

I don't think I liked it as well as Adaptation, but I know I liked it better than Being John Malkovich, which I've yet to see the last 20 minutes or so of. I'm still trying to sort out exactly what happened in Eternal Sunshine.

But the premise ... ahh, the premise: Having the memory of someone erased from yer mind.

Wow. Now THAT hits home.

I have actually had that desire over these last 4 years ... espec. over the last 2. I actually had this crazy notion of going to a hypnotist to see if you could actually be hypnotized to forget about someone! So, I related to the idea of having a "spotless mind."

To erase the pain. And the sadness. And the knowledge that in the midst of some of the most intense feelings you have ever felt, toward anyone, you managed to cause pain. (And wishing, somehow, that you could make them forget they ever knew you ... to keep them from ever having felt anything bad, thanks to you.)

So, I liked the premise of the movie and wanted to see how it all played out.

At the moment, though, I am still sorting it all out. What happened when, exactly (you can keep up by Kate's hair color, mainly ... sorta), and how long "Joel" and "Clementine" were actually together.

Might have to see this one a 2nd time. Or a 3rd.

2004-03-18T13:33:00.000-06:00

Fucking Florida

Guess who picked Fla. to go all the way to the NCAA Tournament FINALS??!

: (

2004-03-17T22:02:00.000-06:00

KIK!

Saw this in an AP story yesterday:

Bruce Springsteen inducted Jackson Browne, noting with some jealousy that while he and his E Street Band usually drew an audience filled with men, Browne was a magnet for women. Springsteen called Browne a "bona fide rock 'n' roll sex star."

"Jackson was drawing more women than an Indigo Girls show," Springsteen said.

Man, I LOVE The Boss! And J.B. ain't so bad, neither!

She was a friend to me when I needed one ...

2004-03-16T20:37:00.000-06:00

RUHAPPY

Saw that on a license plate a few minutes ago.

Am I happy?

Well, I could be doing something I really love every day instead of something I just happen to be good at. And I could be making more money.

Personally?

I have a person I would really like to talk to about a whole lot of things. And I really think a heart-to-heart conversation would go a long way.

But would it make me happy? Hmmm ... I might hear some stuff I really did not want to hear. In fact, it is pretty likely I would hear some stuff I really did not want to hear.

So, professionally, personally, I guess I could be happier. But I could be unhappier, for sure.

And what else is there, anyway?

My mood, in a nutshell: It was gray and rainy and cold here all day. Good napping weather ... and I did. A primary election I could not care less about if I tried is being tallied up right now, and the candidate I was supposed to get a picture of cannot be found. (He is losing.)

Sheesh.

2004-03-14T10:33:00.000-06:00

Be bold!

That is the message I am getting.

From the fortune cookie message I keep here on my desk ...

Life to you is a dashing and bold adventure.

... to the March 12, 2004 entry in Matt's journal to this snippet from Tee-Hee during yesterday's chat ...

Tee-Hee: just bring it up ... be bold
Tee-Hee: take a chance!

To boldness! Always!

: )

2004-03-12T22:56:00.000-06:00

One o' those nights I wished I'd-a had my camera with me ...

Driving back from the lake — after wolfing down McDonald's (Happy Meal with 4-piece chicken McNuts for her, Happy Meal, cheeseburger with pickle and ketchup only for me, please; Cokes w/both o' those, and BOY toys — David Beckham-like Lego soccerman for both of us!) following a longer-than-necessary discussion about dinner — I look up and to the right when she tells me, "Look!"

Atop the ridge of a mine shut down many months ago were 3 deer. Silhouetted by the bright just-past-sunset sky, they stood looking down at us and watching. A couple hundred feet further down the road, another deer, watching, soon joined by 2 more deer.

I try to pull over and almost bottom-out while nearly angling my car right into a ravine. Camera's at home; not like I coulda gotten a shot, anyway.

Earlier this week:

Ran one kinda like this today on the front page. (Gotta take advantage when we've got process color — usually only 1 or 2 days per week.)

I discovered several crocus patches when I was wanting to shoot daffodils. (The Lovely calls them jonquils; I believe they're the same thing, but I, being no horticultural expert, couldn't really say for sure.) And I shot some daffodils and then went on a yellow tangent for a few minutes, but I'm not in the mood for it right now. Maybe later.

And then my mom got sick.

The nurse told me, "She had a small M.I." (I knew what that meant: myacardial infarction [sp?] = heart attack), then said, "I mean, 'small heart attack.'"

And I was thinking, my mom is in great shape. She is thin, she gets plenty of exercise, there is no history of heart disease on her side of the family, how could this possibly happen??!

Drove up to see her. Doctors put her through a whole slew of tests, only to discover that her heart is fine but she has a recurrence of pulmonary embolism (P.E. = blood clots in the lungs) that she suffered from 4 years ago. Nothing to take lightly, obviously, but better news, it seems, than an M.I. or other blockage.

While she waited for her lung scan, she knitted.

"My therapy," she called it.

2004-03-07T00:14:00.000-06:00

Full Moon Tonight

And, I ask again: Where are you?

: )

I have reached the conclusion that I am absolutely fixated on The Shield. So much so that now, every time I watch it, I find myself coming up with a new favorite character ... and even the ones I didn't necessarily like at first, I now adore.

Take, for example, toothy Shane (Walton Goggins). At first, he seemed like sort of a caricature of some horny high-school kid. Now ... I dunno. He's sorta grown on me. To the point I even think he's sorta cute. And he's got a kinda hot bod. (Can I say that? Hmm, guess I just did!)

And I am blown away by Claudette (CCH Pounder). Odd that I have seen her in dozens of shows and she never really stood out (to me); in this one, though, she's amazing. I love how she will not back down from Vic (Michael Chiklis), whom I of course cannot help but love ... and wonder about ...but still love.

Hmm, can you say, "Someone's spending a little TOO much time watching F/X??!"

Ah, what do I care? Spring is almost here, and then summer, and what am I gonna be watching then? Except maybe some baseball, and perhaps then I will even get caught up on movie-watching. 'Cause I am way, WAY behind. So much so that if I ever DO catch up with my muse once again, we're not going to have a single thing to talk about. And as for music ... did catch Norah Jones on SNL a few minutes ago. Wish I could figure out who her voice reminds me of ... and why my sister doesn't really like her at all.

Man, it would feel GREAT to get in my car and just drive.

Just. Drive.

No destination in mind.

I am feeling good, online-wise: Just tonight, I discovered a new message board at the Over the Rhine site, to which I have linked somewhere over there <------- to the left. It's called The Orchard, and yes, indeed, I am already registered. Haven't posted yet, but I am quite excited about it ... especially with the closing of Clarke's place. LOVE Karin & Linford's music, so it should be fun to hang out with some Rhinelanders.

: )

I wanna be near the ocean.

Oh, watched Frequency tonight. 'Course, that shouldn't'a been such a big deal, considering I DO have the film on DVD ... but there I sat, watching it on network TV. Something about that movie really gets me, or at least certain parts ... in no small part because it reminds me of (missing) my dad ... yeah. And at one point in the evening, I was watching Pembleton (Andre Braugher) on that movie AND tonight's episode of Hack. Which was kinda funny.

Discovery of the day: Porkburgers and white pie are NOT a good way to start the day. At least not come 6 or so in the evening ... and I will leave it at that.

2004-03-05T23:17:00.000-06:00

Maybe I should just get drunk.

2004-03-03T23:24:00.000-06:00

SO HAPPY!

Just took one of those "Which _____ are you?" quizzes: "Which Friends-related character are you?"

AND I'M JOEY! JOEY TRIBBIANI! I ADORE JOEY!

: )

I could not be happier!

: )

A great way to end a cold, gloomy day ... one that began with me shooting photos at a 3-car accident. With 1 fatality.

Welcome to the news department.

2004-03-02T22:52:00.000-06:00

I should be sleepin' ... yeah*

* — Said, or rather sung, to the tune of "You Should Be Dancing" by the Brothers Gibb.

Which is kinda funny because that little Bee Gees number — not even one of my favorites by them, actually — is not in my head, at all. What I actually have running through my mind is "Babylon" by David Gray.

This part, mostly:

Let go your heart
Let go your head
And feel it now ...

Wouldn't you know, the acoustic/live version I adore that was sent to me by a girl I adore even more is still locked in the damaged hard drive of the laptop computer, which is still lying on the floor, about 5 feet away from me ... next to the CD tower, actually, and still plugged in (don't want the battery to go dead; always thinking, I am) ... been there for about 7 months now. Scads of photos on there, too, and I was in such a rush to get a whatchamajigger cable so I could attempt a file transfer and salvage at least some of the pictures, but at the moment, said cable is still sitting on the couch, unopened.

But I have 2 versions of "Babylon" on the White Ladder CD, anyway, so: Let 'er rip!!

And my heart feels a lil' heavy at the moment 'cause Clarke is closing down his site, and I knew it was coming and I wasn't all that sad or surprised or anything ... and I hadn't even been posting there as much these past few months because it all seemed so ... fragile or something, and people had left ... but now, come the end of the month, it's going to be gone, and just thinking about it makes me ... well, sad. In a nostalgic sorta way or something.

I think of Clarke as a kindred spirit. Maybe because, for a while there, we liked the same girl. Not at the same time, exactly, but ... yeah.

If you want it
Come and get it
Cryin' out loud
The love that I was
Giving you was
Never in doubt ...

And once again, I have to rethink these online relationships I've developed over the past few years. How long have I been online, anyway? Lemme see, I've burned through 3 laptops and am now on the handy-dandy desktop (I'm still a laptop kinda girl, I have decided, yes, I am), how long HAS it been? Five years, maybe six? I know I was behind the times for a while, and then I was hooked for a bit, and now ... I'm in and out of here every day, for what purpose other than tossing out a few things in here, and on a couple of other sites, and perusing and surfing and what-not. And in-between, at least a couple of times I've clicked with someone and gotten close, and it was unbelievably intense and intimate and ... yeah ... but it was still ... distant, somehow.

And the really difficult part about knowing someone online — even if you happen also to communicate outside of cyberspace — is you know only this tiny little piece of them. As much or as little as they choose to reveal. Or you.

I have my college pals' Web site where several of these women I have known since we were floormates together, all in our late teens/early 20s, post on a somewhat regular basis. And some of them I haven't seen since college graduation ? well, until we gathered in Vegas last fall, anyway — but still, with most of them, it's as if we have been together almost every day over these past 16 or so years. And many of them, I hadn't even kept in touch with until about a year ago when one of them started the site, but because we actually knew each other, way back when, we still have that connection to go back to. And we also have our current lives, and we all enjoy each others' online company.

And if we don't hear from each other for a few days, it's all OK because we know each other, and we realize it's just the usual ebb and flow of friendship.

Have I ever been as good of a friend as I think I have?

2004-03-02T20:24:00.000-06:00

Sunny Day

I get a call from Pat, the former mayor, at around 8:30 today. Pat is now the PR director at the local hospital, and she tells me there's going to be a helicopter landing at the new helipad at 10 a.m. No big deal if you happen to live in a big city or somethin', but around here: 'Copters is big news.

So about 10 'til, I head to the hospital, and as I'm pulling into the parking lot, I see the helicopter, in the sky off to the left. Or west. And I, thinking landing is imminent, whip my car into an empty space and tumble out of my car, Olympus C-5000 in hand.

Of course, the 'copter has to circle a coupla times, and then, as it's coming in, I realize, hmm, my car is parked perilously close to the landing pad. Too late to move it now, though — not if I wanna get a good shot of the helicopter coming in. So I wait for it to land, but in the meantime I realize that I have never been within close proximity of a 'copter as it's landing, and so the wind generated by its blades nearly blows me away. Plus I'm sorta concerned about debris hitting my car, but ... as it turns out, it's all good.

(I thought the landing pad would be ON TOP o' the hospital ... not on the ground RIGHT NEXT to the hospital.)

I snap a few more shots and head back to the office, only to find out later that had I stuck around for a few more minutes, I woulda gotten a free helicopter ride!

(Damn deadlines!)

: )

And later today, after a 2-hour round-trip with my best pal on a gorgeous sunny day and a trip to a Wal-Mart SuperCenter (which, if that one is a SuperCenter, then the new one we just got is a SuperDuperQuadruperCenter) and pizza at Auten's, I decide to snap a sunset. And I end up liking this one best because it's sorta dark (which the sky wasn't, actually, at the time), and when I look very closely I can see a row of birds (geese, probably) flying in front o' the sun.

(This one was taken with the Kodak 6490. I am convincing myself I love both of these cameras because a co-worker just got a digital Rebel today, and secretly I am feeling massive amounts of camera envy.)

: )

2004-03-01T23:07:00.000-06:00

Quote(s) of the Day

"Education is the biggest scam going." — Frank Barone, Everybody Loves Raymond

"It's one of those situations where the only thing you can do ... is nothing." — Di Winson, chat convo with Lisa J.

(Is it the sincerest form of self-indulgence to quote oneself in one's online journal?)

: )

2004-02-28T23:22:00.000-06:00

The Passion of The Christ, Part 1

So, I decide sometime around midday today that I just might want to go see The Passion tonight. Because The Lovely is busy with company, and besides, I think I just might like to see this movie all by myself. Actually, I am convinced I would like to see it all by myself, all alone in a theater, but I do not foresee that happening, thanks to all the publicity over the past few months.

Still, it seems like what my movie guru would call "a big movie." One you just have to see in a theater. So there is no use waiting for the DVD; this one must be seen in a theater. With other people around me, most likely.

I decide I will go to the 9:50 p.m. showing at the theater closest to me, about 18 miles away.

Only because I manage to take a power nap late this afternoon and I feel fairly energetic around 9 p.m., just when I am thinking about leaving. So I head out around 9:20 p.m. Get to the theater at 9:45, right on time.

"Sold out."

And for some reason, I am quite surprised by this.

And the girl tells me that Eurotrip is also starting at 9:50, and Welcome to Mooseport is starting at 9:55, if I am interested in either of those movies, and I just have to shake my head and smile.

No. No, I am not.

(Not that Mooseport is completely out of the question, ever, given the fact that Maura Tierney *swoon* is in it. But: Welcome to Mooseport as an alternative to The Passion, honestly? I DON'T THINK SO.)

So far, I have not heard any reviews of The Passion from anyone I actually know. Margaret saw it Wednesday with one of her pals and could only say it was pretty brutal.

Prompting me to think, to myself: Hmm, what part of "crown of throwns" or "nails in palms" imagery ever led anyone to believe the crucifixion of Jesus was anything BUT brutal??!

Admittedly, I have always been partial to Easter, as far as holidays go. I was born on Easter morning, 1965, and because I live in the Midwest, where we actually get to enjoy (??) all four seasons, there is always this kind of rebirth/rejuvenation thing going on during spring, usually right around Easter, so that if I am going to have even a smidgen of spirituality during the course of a normal year, it is usually right then.

This year, though, I didn't get my ashes on Ash Wednesday. Probably no biggie, though, 'cause God knows I am not Catholic, and it's something I've done only the last couple of years — 2 years ago because I felt bad enough about what I had done that I was grabbing for anything that might grant me absolution, and 1 year ago because Amy asked me to go. And I gave up nothing for Lent this year — NOT because I am without anything that I need to give up, but because I feel good and hopeful and alive and confident, somehow, that something great just might be on the verge of happening.

And as bad as I have ever felt about anything that has ever happened, all I really know is this: Every step I have taken — every misstep, even — has brought me to this point. Right now. And I am so fucking glad — so very lucky, too — about every person that has affected me in some way, good or bad or somewhere in the middle ... and there is lots of space in the middle ... that I cannot help thinking that somehow, some way, it will all work out.

"It" being my life, of course.

2004-02-25T23:41:00.000-06:00

Sting

I hate the way my eyes burn on days like these.

Days that I am actually brought to tears. At work, no less, where I hardly ever cry.

Where I did cry, back during that time during which I cried a little or a lot (usually a lot) every day.

But it's been a while, since those days.

And furthermore: I need a haircut.

2004-02-24T23:03:00.000-06:00

Who the fuck CARES??!

* Picture Charlie Brown, head thrown back, mouth wide open *

AAAAAAAAAAUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

There. That's me. Completely bored and annoyed and just so ... so ... so who the fuck CARES over this same-sex marriage thing.

Does it matter? Does it honestly MATTER who you marry? (I think that should be "whom," actually. Fuck it, I don't even care about THAT!) Does it? How COULD it?

Gavin Newsom fucking ROCKS. Pretty good hair, too, although that slicked-back look is a little not my cup o' tea, especially for one with such a high forehead, but what the hell: 3,300 and counting.

Yeah. We need an amendment to prevent such an abomination.

This would make me kinda sad if I weren't completely exhausted.

Ever miss someone just because you love the way they look at the world? And how you could work yourself into a frenzy or even a mild lather over something, and they could tell you, "None of it really matters," with such conviction and calmness that you couldn't help but believe them?

Yeah. Me, too.

2004-02-24T14:22:00.000-06:00

If you're not part of the solution ...

... you're part of the problem.

I have learnt that, more than anything else, over the last month and 24 days.

Am I any better off for having that knowledge? Who knows.

One thing I do know:

I miss my friend. Or pal. Or whatever she/I/we were/are.

: (

2004-02-24T12:48:00.000-06:00

Moondance

I seriously need a tripod.

However, I LOVE that my camera's zoom actually got me TOO CLOSE to the moon 'cause I also wanted to get in the planet or star or whatever next to it.

I need a nap. Sleep was elusive last night/this morning.

2004-02-22T13:14:00.000-06:00

Shots

1. Chocolate pie, made by a co-worker of mine named Alice. (I had a slice for breakfast Thursday and Friday. VERY tasty!)

2. Outline of a tiny tree near Staples, just after sunset Saturday evening.

3. My best pal's doggie, Chico, pretending to relax on "his" pillow. (Plaid pillowcase, Crate 'n' Barrel.)

: )

2004-02-21T00:46:00.000-06:00

"Do you have an opinion?"

"A mind of your own?"

Oh. Hmm. Oops.

One of my newfound (newly found?) duties in my new job is putting together Page 4 every day. The op-ed page. Which has become my favorite page, some days, anyway, because now I have 4 local columnists (including myself), and I am constantly looking for more because, what the hey, opinions are like ... well, we all know what, and everybody has one.

Anyway, at the bottom of the page, some days, if there's space, I run the information for submitting a letter to the editor (still not getting as many of those as I'd like, but I'll keep trying), and the first sentence says, "Do you have an opinion?" and every time I read it, I start singing the song "Special" by Garbage, and then I am instantly in a good mood. 'Cause I really really like that song.

(Not energetic enough to transcribe or look up the lyrics, however; I'll just keep humming the song in my head, and if I get really industrious over the next few minutes, I shall dig out the CD and crank it up 'cause, what the FUCK, it's Friday night — no, wait, it's WAY early Saturday morning, and I love my life, even more so now that the weekend is here, so YEAH!)

And now I've managed to get yet another digital camera, the Olympus C-5000, only this one belongs to the paper, and I like the fact that it's a 5-megapixel, but somehow I don't like it as well as the other Olympuses (Olympi?) we have, so who knows. And that, combined with my new cell phone, all in the span of less than 2 weeks, prompted me to proclaim to some of my old college buds (we have a Web site but it's password-protected and what-not, so no need to link) that I am rapidly becoming the electronics geek my stepdad told me I should go to college to become. Some 20 years later.

("But no," I said. "I wanna be a wriiiiiiiiiiiiiiter!")

(Idiot.)

Random observation: I like milk. I almost always drink fat-free skim milk because everyone seems to think you should, but I prefer whole milk. I just polished off a glass bottle of 1% milk — which, when you've drunk fat-free for long enough, seems like whole milk. And it was very good.

: )

2004-02-17T18:31:00.000-06:00

Special

Sometime last night, I dreamt of my friend K.J.

Haven't seen her for a while. More than 2 years, now that I think about it: Christmas Eve service, 2001. I, in the midst of absolute chaos; she, in the usual normalcy that 4 kids and a husband can bring.

: )

I told her I loved her ... and I do.

She is a year older than I. One of those "perfect" girls, back when we were kids: Straight-A student. First-chair clarinet. Cheerleader. Brooke Shields look-alike — with BETTER BROWS, even! Cute boyfriend.

And she was my friend. IS my friend.

She chose to be friends with me. K.J., a girl we all wanted to idolize but couldn't, somehow, because she was so incredibly JUST LIKE US. Only better ... only she never let on.

I remember one summer, K.J. and I went to the beach every day. Sure, sometimes she wanted to pout about her cute boyfriend (who somehow had not quite figured out that she was The One ... but he did ... eventually), but mostly she just wanted to hang out with me.

With me.

And we'd talk and I'd make her laugh and we'd drive her mom nuts — literally — with K.J.'s driving.

Every time I have ever seen her, in my entire life — or at least since jr. high, when we first got acquainted — she has made me feel, without question, that she was as happy as happy could be to see me.

In my dream last night (or was it this morning?), K.J. and I were lying in bed next to each other. Nude but completely non-sexual. Spooning. I was lying behind her and had my arms around her.

I felt peaceful and comfortable and warm.

2004-02-16T14:03:00.000-06:00

Moon Phases

I look up this morning, and the moon is how I like it second-best: Just a lil' ol' sliver, hanging relatively low in the sky in the South. Which gives me a chance to test out the digi-zoom, and it appears to work well, so I am already pleased, first thing today.

: )

I will test it further, first full moon.

And then, when I return to work, I decide to play with the moon ("Di lassoes the moon!") in Adobe, and when I click the button on "Auto Levels," the light blue in the photo goes all black, just like night. Which is cool. Except the photo was taken in daylight, around 6:50 a.m. (I was aiming for arriving at work at 6:30. So much for good intentions.)

In-between, during a somewhat hectic day at work, I get a call from Tee-Hee. And I barely answer the phone in time because I've switched the cell from "Dizzy" to "Long scale," and it's not quite as loud. Still, I get it in time; turns out she is calling to tell me about the "Gilligan's Island Marathon" going on today on the Hallmark channel.

Whoo-hoo!

Back in the day, though, Gilligan ruled.

And, truthfully: He still does. I have laughed OUT LOUD at least 3 times in the last 10 minutes, and I'm only half-paying attention.

And I STILL recognize the little background songs. And they make me laugh, too.

: )

2004-02-14T10:19:00.000-06:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

And here I am, awake before I wanted to be, and already jonesing for a nap (!) but telling myself if I get back in there before 10:30, it still counts as "sleep." And I find myself looking at the day ahead, completely free of "formal" plans (LOVE days like these!), but I am contemplating these options: a visit to the herb show (wouldn't mind grabbing me some cilantro and parsley and mint ... since my herb garden, uh, never seemed to materialize last year), dinner at Pizza & Pasta Express w/my best pal and the grandkids, watching 21 Grams later this evening, perhaps.

Right now, I can't even get motivated to leave the house just yet.

No rush.

2004-02-11T23:34:00.000-06:00

Mirage

"She conjured herself up in your mind," my pal Tee-Hee tells me.

And I know Tee-Hee is right, but that doesn't make the image any less real.

Song in my head: "My Boyfriend's Back" by ... the Chiffons? The Shirelles? Anyone? Anyone? (Hey-laa, lee-laa!)

And I am so. Fucking. Glad.

2004-02-11T15:20:00.000-06:00

Test Shot

Do these CDs, from the 6th, 7th and 8th shelves of the 50-inch tower in my living room, say anything in particular about me, other than, "She has a fondness for certain soundtracks?"

Does it mean anything that I was counting down from the top rather than up from the bottom when I referred to which shelves these CDs were on? Is there any significance to the fact that of the 10 soundtracks pictured, 3 are from movies that I have not seen in their entirety — The Next Best Thing, Bram Stoker's Dracula and Dick — but bought the soundtracks primarily for a single song on each (Madonna's version of "American Pie," Annie Lennox's "Love Song to a Vampire" and George McRae's "Rock Your Baby" — a song which was irritatingly left OFF the Boys Don't Cry soundtrack)? Or that I saw only about 3 episodes of Felicity but adore many of the songs on that soundtrack?

Is it relevant that I own 2 of the movies — Boys Don't Cry and Girl, Interrupted — on DVD and 2 others —Foxfire and Chariots of Fire — on videotape? Am I wrong to feel a little embarrassed, somehow, over an Ally McBeal soundtrack being at the very top of the photo ... and yet oddly vindicated that Bob Dylan and R.E.M. are plainly visible, there at the bottom, as if those 2 artists/groups somehow validate my taste in music? (That's the Reckoning album, by the way.)

Would it negate the whole process if I admitted this was simply a test shot with the 6490, just to make sure that its focusing mechanism worked? I was a little concerned in the store, mainly because the shutter seemed particularly slow, and I wanted to be certain that the camera, indeed, took clear, sharp, in-focus pictures.

(This photo, taken from a distance of about 6 feet, was actually the very 2nd shot I took with the new camera. The 1st — a random telephoto attempt at the bottle of Shonfeld's chili-infused vinegar sitting on the window ledge in my kitchen — was out of focus. However, I forgot to use the flash.)

2004-02-10T00:51:00.000-06:00

I love my life, but I'm tired.

Bought the new digi-cam*, and I love it! Now, to get off my @$$ and do some serious FTP-ing to liven up this place.

* — Though I've never actually said the word** "digi-cam" out loud, I really like writing it that way.

** — Is "digi-cam" even a word? I mean, I've actually taken 2 words and force-fitted them together via the use of a hyphen; is there a word for when you do that?

I did actual "news editor" work tonight. Can't say yet whether I'm gonna like this job or not.

No worries, though. If I do, that's cool, and if not: Onwards and upwards!

: )

If I ever had a son, I would name him Kal-El. I used to say Oliver Simon, but I've just changed my mind. Tonight.

Daughter? That's easy: Di Jr.

: )

2004-02-07T21:40:00.000-06:00

Obsessed

I am currently obsessed with finding a digital camera.

Not a big, honkin' digi-cam like the professionals use — although I am a quasi-professional (and a queasy-professional, thanks to that large chocolate shake I had from Steak 'n' Shake), and I could justify having one o' those kind, actually, thank you very much ... just can't really afford at at the moment.

I like being obsessed with electronics. I remember spending 6 months trying to find the "perfect" stereo, going in and out of this store and that before finally buying one for $250 from my friend Barbee, who was moving and wanted to get all new stuff. She sold me her 19-inch TV, too, for $30. All in all, a good day for me, electronically speaking.

Except for the hole in the top of the TV from where a candle had melted through. What the heck, I just put a picture over it. No biggie.

Anyway, I think I want this one.

I think.

2004-02-03T14:55:00.000-06:00

Correction

"If You Leave" song wasn't from The Breakfast Club ending. I'm thinking maybe Sixteen Candles, but I could be wrong.

I am losing my memory of the 1980s. And I am not sure I HAVE any memory of the 1990s. And as for the 2000s ... well, considering I lost an entire year of them in a fog and spent part of the rest of them in some kinda fucked-up something-or-other ... ask me later.

And bring back the 1970s.

Wait. I take that back. There are portions of that decade I would NEVER want to relive.

(There are portions of that decade I would NEVER wish on anyone.)

How 'bout the 1960s, then? No? Too turbulent?

May I revisit a decade I have never officially been a part of?

2004-01-29T20:04:00.000-06:00

These Boots Were Made for Slidin'

Not sure what prompted that earlier rant.

What I really wanted to write about was snow.

Glorious snow.

Several kinds, today:

Slow-motion snow, floating downward, the direct opposite of those tiny little bubbles I love to squirt out of the dishwashing liquid bottle, that float up toward the ceiling before popping, one by one, halfway back down ...

Big sloppy white feather snow, coming down in clumps, snowballs halfway formed before they ever touch the ground ...

Tiny snow pellets, covering my car windows and splashing up in my face, wind-blown, when I run the scraper over them ...

And mostly the snow covered the ice that still remains, and as I carried a bag and a box of trash to the garbage can, I remembered a time when I measured my shoes not by their size or their style, but rather by how well I could slide in them.

And a couple of my boy friends had the ultimate sliding shoes, which were actually boots. Brown cowboy boots with gold rings at the ankles and 1-inch heels. Probably great for sticking through stirrups, but not so good, traction-wise.

But, alas, none of my friends had horses. Except for a girl named Mindy, who was 3 years older than I and had a pony. (I didn't really know her, then, but we became good friends when she was in high school. And had a cool old car.)

2004-01-29T17:03:00.000-06:00

Thursday

There was a time when Thursday was my favorite day of the week. Actually, there were a couple of times when Thursday was my favorite day: My junior through senior years of college, and a period during the mid-1990s when I was totally into Seinfeld.

I liked Thursdays when I was in school because they were, for all intents and purposes ? and all intensive purposes, too, for that matter ? the official unofficial start of the weekend. Classes on Thursdays were always grueling because they'd last at least 90 minutes, but I hardly ever had more than a couple of classes on a Tuesday or a Thursday. So, no biggie. And I'd usually work at the newspaper every night of the week, writing or composing or what-not ("Hehe ... what're flats??!"), but we published Monday through Friday only, so when Thursday rolled around ...

Ahhh. We knew we were officially at the end of the week. And when we put that paper to bed sometime before 11:30 p.m. ...

Ahhh. We knew the weekend was here.

And so we'd pile into Felix and head to the Uptowner. A full 90 minutes — or more, if we got done early! — for drinking, and after that: After-bars!

Fridays were normally spent hungover and often NOT in class ... yet I'd manage to revive in time for 4 o'clock club ... which always lasted into the early morning ... rinse, lather and repeat for Saturday ... Sunday, sleep 'til noon, get up in time to make it (barely) down to food service, sleep some more, maybe study (some), get a hot ham 'n' cheese at Hardee's or a Jimmy John's sub or order Domino's for dinner, hang out with the girls, glance ahead to Monday.

Yeah. Thursdays were the start of it all.

And then in the real world, where I was known to work Monday through Saturday, to some extent, and occasionally on Sundays, there was no day signifying, "This is the end of the week." I always felt pretty fortunate once I got past Wednesday, but still, 3 more days to go, so really, most days were equally bad.

At least, eventually, I could look forward to must-see TV on Thursday night. Jerry and the gang. They were on early enough (8 p.m., my time); not like I'd be going out or anything, anyway. Had to work on Friday. And Saturday. And sometimes Sunday.

It surprised me, a little, to realize the other day that I have worked full-time pretty much non-stop since the summer after I turned 22. And don't get me wrong: I'm glad of it. (What an awkward-sounding sentence THAT was. And isn't "awkward" an awkward-looking word? Hell, I can't even tell if it's spelt right! This, from a girl who was RIGHT on earlier today when asked to spell "mostaccioli"!)

Yet, still, I am glad of it. Yes, I'd love to be independently wealthy with houses on both coasts, a '65 Mustang and maybe a Porsche or two (I don't ask for much, really), but I'm not. I'm like most of the people I know: I go to work and I pay my bills and I live my life. It would be cool not having to work, but I don't wish for not having to work because I know people who aren't working, can't work, in fact, because of an injury or an illness or a something, and they don't want their lives to be that way, but they are.

Which reminds me of some show I saw last night about Christopher Reeve. Clark Kent/Superman. Now paralyzed from the neck down because of a horse-jumping accident. An equestrian mishap. (I like the word "equestrian." Not sure I've ever said it aloud, though.) But: Is he paralyzed? Seems he's making strides and obviously he's raising awareness for spinal cord injury rehabilitation, and even though he might not ever fly again, let alone walk, there is obviously hope for the future. His future, maybe.

Made me well up a little, even, but then I had to switch back over to the Traffic mini-series on USA Network. Which I enjoyed, somewhat, although in places it was a little too similar to Traffic, the movie ... except, no Benicio Del Toro ... although the mini-series did have Cliff Curtis, the dad in Whale Rider, and one of the show's last scenes showed him pulling a gun out of the glove compartment and being on the verge of shooting the guy in the back seat, who had managed to get involved with a guy who smuggled illegal aliens ? a couple of which were Whale Rider Dad's wife and daughter, who had been killed on a ship that was also smuggling the smallpox virus into the United States.

I liked that I couldn't figure out if one of the main guys was bad or good, but I didn't like that I pretty much knew all along who one of the main bad guys was ... primarily because that guy ALWAYS plays the smarmy bad guy. And I also liked the illegal alien smuggler guy, and the guy who was just about to get shot in the back seat was kinda cute — had a bit of a Chris O'Donnell thing going on — except for an annoying scar through his right eyebrow which actually had me thinking, at one point, "I wonder if he would've been cast for this part if he didn't have that annoying scar through his right eyebrow?"

Plus: Baboo (sp?) the Pakistani from Seinfeld was in it!

: )

On an entirely unrelated note:

I heard this song Saturday night when I was strolling through a Galyan's store in Indy. I like Galyan's because it has a little bit of everything, sports-wise — all the stuff for all the outdoorsy (and indoorsy, now that I think about it) things that I occasionally think I might like to do. Like kayaking and cross-country skiing and camping ... 2 out of 3 of which I have never done.

Anyhoo, I head this song and immediately called my sister to see if she knew who sang it, but she did not. Managed to look it up today: "Secret" by Orchestral Maneouvres in the Dark. Same group that sang the song from The Breakfast Club that I can't think of right now. ("If You Leave"?)

Secret

I've got a secret I can't explain
All the time I've waited for this day
All along I was never in doubt
I always knew it would never get out
There are things that I cannot tell
And there are things that you know damn well
This is getting very hard for me
I guess you'd better just wait and see

This is all, this is all

You heard a message and the message was clear
And all the time you wipe away that tear
All I want is to hold your hand
To see the sun and walk the sand
You make me sad and you make me glad
And now you see my secret is this love
Is love, Is love
All my secret is this love

Everyday you're always there
You comfort me and make me feel it's worth my while
And then I look around and you're not there
And everyday you say you care and I'll beware

This is all, this is all

I've got a secret and I can't explain
All I want is to hold your hand
All along I was never in doubt
To see the sun and to walk the sand

— OMD

2004-01-28T15:32:00.000-06:00

Icy Trees

This morning I went to the Grand Opening of the new Wal-Mart SuperCenter in my town.

Well, actually, it's not in MY town. It's in the town located right next to my town. Actually, the town is a village; it has a village board, anyway. And I guess my town is actually a city, for it has a city council.

I've always thought of towns as ... well, towns — a "town" being any place that has fewer than 10 intersections w/stoplights and no more than 3 buildings over 5 stories high. Actually, I just thought up that definition and, after doing a quick count, confirmed that I do, indeed, live in a town (4 stoplights, 1 building of 5-plus-story height).

* Suddenly having a Mary Chapin Carpenter "I Am a Town" moment *

Anyhoo, I went in to work way early, just so's I'd have time for the ribbon-cutting blah-blah, which for me mainly meant snapping some front-page photos. Big news around here.

And I got my pictures and fortunately didn't really have to talk to anyone and then I was on my way, and as I was pulling out of the parking lot, I glanced to my left, and up, and I saw icy trees. And I took a picture.

And as I drove back to work, I saw more icy trees. Everywhere.

And I was happy.

: )

I Am a Town

I'm a town in Carolina, I'm a detour on a ride
For a phone call and a soda, I'm a blur from the driver's side
I'm the last gas for an hour, if you're going 25
I am Texaco and tobacco, I am dust you leave behind

I am peaches in September and corn from a roadside stall
I'm the language of the natives, I'm a cadence and a drawl
I'm the pines behind the graveyard and the cool beneath their shade
Where the boys have left their beer cans, I am weeds between the graves

My porches sag and lean with old black men and children
My sleep is filled with dreams, I never can fulfill them
I am a town

I'm a church beside the highway where the ditches never drain
I'm a Baptist like my daddy, Jesus knows my name
I am memory and stillness, I am lonely in old age
I am not your destination, I am clinging to my ways
I am a town

I'm a town in Carolina, I am billboards in the fields
I'm an old truck up on cinderblocks, missing all my wheels
I am Pabst Blue Ribbon, American, and "Southern Serves the South"
I am tucked behind a Jaycees sign on the rural route
I am a town
I am a town
I am a town
Southbound

— Mary Chapin Carpenter

(I adore the line, "My porches sag and lean with old black men and children / My sleep is filled with dreams, I never can fulfill them," and the piano part as she sings, "I'm a Baptist like my daddy / Jesus knows my name.")

Matter of fact, I pretty much adore the entire Come On Come On CD ... even though she COULD use a comma in there.

: )

2004-01-23T23:40:00.000-06:00

I want more of me.

One reason I could probably never be a manager is because I would want everyone who worked for me to work as hard as I do and to be as good at their jobs as I am.

Which is probably a very arrogant statement, but it's the truth, and if a person doesn't feel this way about herself, then why bother? Why be half-hearted, about anything?

I just dispensed some marital advice. Which, when I give out advice, is mostly about common sense and courtesy. (ALWAYS easier to give it, rather than take it; why is that?) Mostly, I just told her to call him to let him know that she needs some time alone and is not coming back tonight. Mainly so she is doing her part to keep the lines of communication open, and so he won't spend the night worrying about her.

I need a phone call ...

One of the worst feelings in life is having about a zillion things to say to someone and not being able to say a single word. For whatever reason.

Anyway, I fully admit I could NEVER be a counselor or a psychologist or whatever. I could not listen to peoples' problems all day, offer up my words of wisdom, watch them continue NOT to take my advice and then have to listen to it all again next week.

Nope. Couldn't do it.

I'd probably get paid a helluva lotta money, though. And no doubt, somehow, I'd be good at it.

: )

2004-01-22T16:27:00.000-06:00

Life as a Journalist, Part 1

I could subtitle this entry: "You Know How You've Always Heard How Most Criminals Are Really Stoopid, But You've Never Had the Pleasure of Finding Out for Yourself?"

: )

I have now been on my new job for *checking watch* 14 days, 8 hours and 36 minutes. My new position requires me to focus my attention on the entire paper, rather than just my lil' sports section (well, all 2 pages, if you can consider that a "section"). Occasionally, this means I have to run out and snap a photograph suitable for the front page.

And lemme just say: It doesn't take a whole lot for something to be "suitable for the front page" at a small daily newspaper.

Anyhoo, on Monday, I was faced with that challenge. Fortunately, it was VERY cold here on Monday, so I thought to myself, Hmm, self, how about taking a picture that depicts the very cold weather? As luck would have it, it also happened to be flurrying (Is that a word? And if not, did I just invent a word?), so I had confidence I'd be able to find something good.

We also had a full-color ad running on the back page, which meant we could run color photos on the front. (Most days it's B&W, which is OK, but almost everything looks better in color. I think, anyway.)

Additionally, Monday was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, which meant no school. So, in my mind's eye, I had a vision of the perfect photo: 2 or 3 kids playing outside in their yard, all bundled up in their colorful coats and hats and scarves and mittens, with little puffy clouds of breath coming out of their mouths.

I drove around town looking for signs of kids playing outside. Nothing!

Then I thought to myself: Hmm, wonder why there aren't any kids playing outside? Then I thought: Well, it's too #*%&-ing COLD to be playing outside!

(Truthfully, I don't see all that many kids playing outside when the weather is warm. I don't know what I was thinking on this 14-degree day!)

I headed back toward the news office, shifting my focus, looking for signs of ANYONE who was outside, doing ANYTHING.

About 4 blocks from the newspaper office, I saw a pickup truck with a flat-bed trailer parked next to a railroad. Three men dressed from head-to-toe in coveralls (hmm, I guess that's why they're called "coveralls," huh?) and wearing hard hats were loading railroad ties onto the trailer.

The men looked cold. Perfect!

I drove around the block, came back, parked across the street from where they were loading the ties and got out of my car. I had my camera around my neck and my notebook in my hand; I told them I worked for the newspaper and was wanting to get a photo of the cold, and I asked them if it would be OK if I took their picture.

One of them said, "Yeah, that'd be OK."

So I snapped a few shots ... a couple of pictures of the men lifting the ties off the pile, a couple of them laying the ties onto the truck. Then, as is my standard practice, I asked them their names and where they lived, and recorded the information in my trusty reporter's notebook. (I had to CARVE some of the information into the paper — my pen had been in the car and was TOO COLD TO WRITE PROPERLY!)

I asked one of the guys what he used the railroad ties for, just to provide more information for the cutline. He told me he used them for landscaping.

After that, I was on my merry way back to the news office. I downloaded the photo, wrote the cutline — including some info about what to expect, weather-wise, for the rest of the day — and finished the page. And that was that.

Or so I thought.

Tuesday morning, one of my co-workers told me that the owner of the railroad ties had called and asked her to fax a copy of the photo. Apparently, the 3 men had been STEALING the railroad ties, right there in broad daylight (it was 12:30 p.m., according to the clock in my trusty digital camera) — AND THEY HAD ALLOWED ME TO TAKE THEIR PICTURE!

(Which pretty much made me laugh, actually.)

I didn't hear anything more about the matter until this morning when an officer with the local police department came to the news office to get a written statement from me. He also got black-and-white printouts of the 2 photos I had saved and a CD with the actual jpegs of the photos.

He told me the matter is "under investigation" and could possibly go to the state's attorney!

(This morning, I told my boss I had no intentions of being an investigative reporter when I accepted my new job!)

: )

2004-01-19T13:45:00.000-06:00

I got the music in me.

Back in my head.

There's always some song swirling around in there, usually. I was worried, though, because ... I dunno, it was almost as if music had left me or something. Or maybe I've just been too busy to notice it.

(Not that that's a bad thing. Sometimes the best thing of all is to be so incredibly busy that you don't even have time to think.)

Anyway, the song in my head right now is "Blackbird" by the Beatles. WHICH I thought I had on CD but apparently do not, so I am fixing to listen to Sarah McLachlan's version on my I Am Sam soundtrack, but in the meantime, there's "Two of Us" by Aimee Mann and Michael Penn, and that's a pretty fine little cover, also, so I am smiling.

You and I have memories
Longer than the road that stretches
Out ahead ...

What a happy, peppy and bursting with love little song!

And the Australian Open has started. And though it is probably my least favorite of the Grand Slam tennis tournaments, primarily because that whole 16-hour (more more!) time difference gets me totally discombobulated ... WTF, it's STILL a Grand Slam, so I MUST watch as much of it as I possibly can! It is also the Slam I am most unlikely to attend in person because, A. I've already been to Wimbledon and Roland Garros, and B. I can't imagine ever wanting to fly all the way to Australia.

Although that beach shot they just showed on Espen is pretty enticing ... espec. since the Australian Open takes place during summertime in Melbourne. And today it is a balmy 20 degrees here in the Midwest. So, yeah, 20 some hours in a plane suddenly doesn't seem all that overwhelming.

Now playing: "Across the Universe." Rufus Wainright's cover.

Nothin's gonna change my world
Nothin's gonna change my world ...

2004-01-17T14:58:00.000-06:00

OK, so here's a poem:

I wrote this one a L O N G time ago ... like, the summer betw. my sophomore and junior years of college, circa 1985, on the way to (or from) some town (Raleigh, maybe) in North Carolina with 7 other members of my college's yearbook staff.

Later ... Much

Years from now
When you hear my name
Will you remember the face?

Will you recognize my voice?
My laughter, once
Familiar as your own

— DLW

Written for the amazing JKS, but currently dedicated to the missing MFY ...

* — Forgot to note what the * denoted in the post that follows. Nothing, really, except that I really like to say "niblets."

: )

2004-01-17T10:11:00.000-06:00

Oh, what a beautiful morrrrrrrning!

(Oh, what a beautiful dayyyyyyy!)

I awoke around 9 a.m. to a glorious rainy Saturday morning, courtesy of a call by some telemarketer (no, I did not sign up for the no-call list; yes, I AM an idiot ... but there's always that volume "off" button on my phone), whom I told, when asked, "May I speak to Diana Winson?": "No. And please don't call again." CLICK!

Let's just see if he listens to me.

Song in my head: "Hey, Baby, They're Playing Our Song." Something from the oldies station I've been listening to for what seems like the last 5 months; I have no idea who sings it.

Niblets* from my dreams for the night/morning: I am in Charleston with Lisa E., and part of the time I am looking for The Girl ... walking through a hallway in Lisa's house and noticing a green tandem bike with black seats, only this one is a bicycle built for 3 ... pulling up to an intersection that is kinda like one in Vegas, with, like, 8 lanes of traffic, and when I get the light, all eight lanes have to back up, a little, so as not to be in the crosswalk or out into the intersection as I make my way through ... discovering that my voice is all raspy, so, whilst we're stopped at the gas station, I am trying to sing "Everything I Do" by Bryan Adams (whom Lisa adores! Fore real!) because I am CONVINCED I sound just like him (but I don't) ... wandering through some huge school or hotel or something ... looking out the window, early evening, and seeing a lake and sunlight and gray clouds and telling someone, "There's going to be a beautiful sunlight this evening" ... and having sex. With a woman. (Which isn't always the case, in my dreams.)

: /

I've been a little concerned about myself lately because I haven't been watching movies and I haven't been listening, really listening, to music here lately.

And part of it is time. I haven't had time to go see Big Fish or Cold Mountain or Mona Lisa Smile, all of which I've had a hankerin' to see since before they were even released. Or maybe I've had time but haven't wanted to devote a chunk of it to going to the movies.

And as for music ... I couldn't tell you what's good right now. Who's hot, who's not. I'm stuck on that aforementioned oldies station because ... well, I don't know why. Maybe 'cause there aren't really any good radio stations around here, and at least the oldies station is local, so occasionally I hear some local news.

I miss my movie/music guru/sensei/girl.

: (

I am glad that it's raining. I do hope that the rain doesn't decide to freeze.

2004-01-14T20:07:00.000-06:00

Hair

Just noticed that I (thankfully) missed tonight's episode (the premiere, perhaps?) of The Apprentice.

Still, again, I just have to wonder:

How can Donald Trump be that rich and have such bad hair?

(I just don't get it.)

I mean, I live for the occasional good hair day. And for me, it ain't always easy because I don't have that much hair, and I don't feel comfortable with much hair, but ...

Come on, Don! You are one of the richest guys on the planet (I guess? Honestly, I have no idea how much moolah ol' Donnie has!); how can you NOT afford a decent haircut? Head shave? Whatever!!

(That comb-over isn't fooling ANYONE.)

2004-01-13T13:41:00.000-06:00

Tuuuuuuuuuuuues-day ... aah-aaaaaaah-fternoon ...

I just censored myself! I really love that "edit" feature; perhaps because I really am an editor?

Although sometimes I am an editor in name only — for example, when I was the sports editor and was, in fact, the only person on the sports staff. So, in effect, I was the sports writer, the sports photographer, the sports copy editor, etc.

In other words, the sports staff.

Now I am really moving up in the world: I am the news editor. And I have an actual person (besides me) on the news staff. However, because no one has been hired for the sports editor position, I am still handling all of those duties, too.

I am the news editor AND the sports staff.

(I'm sure my paycheck will reflect this. Not.)

: )

I keep looking at the Christmas card I received from my friend Jean, whom I have not seen since her wedding more than 10 years ago. She and her husband have three beautiful daughters; she tucked a black-and-white family portrait into the card, half of which was covered by her hand-written note telling me what she has been up to in the year since our last correspondence.

My favorite part of the note is this question:

Are you happy?

Like me, she's a journalist — well, technically, she's in public relations, but still — so she leads up to that question with some others:

What's up with you? Are you still at the paper? Still teaching? Are things going well for you?

Are you happy?

In succession, just like that. And I like that she asks about my career ("yes" to the paper, "no" to the teaching — and just two days in, I'm not missing it one bit) and what's going on (nothing, really) and if things are going well (mainly, yeah), but I actually LOVE that she cares enough to ask the most important question of all:

Are you happy?

Yes. Yes, I believe that I am.

And it's not that I've ever not been happy — it's just that, for a while there, I was beginning to forget what it felt like. And when that happens, if you let yourself think about it too much, for too many minutes in a row, you start to wonder what happens if you really do forget what it felt like.

Will you recognize the feeling when/if it ever returns? And will you appreciate it, then, even more because you know how you felt when you were not happy?

Or will you be too happy to notice?

2004-01-12T13:56:00.000-06:00

Don't overwork your meat.

I was gonna title this one, "I don't like Mondays," but right about the time I was logging in or on or whichever it is (log-in? log-on?), Rachael Ray — looking ever-so-snappy and even slightly sexy in her navy-blue shirt and black pants — gave me a better one. She's making a chili burger today — a burger with all the chili ingredients inside! — and even though I've seen this one already ... ah, I can't resist.

30 Minute Meals.

And suddenly I'm timing how long it takes to cook up a batch o' this Lipton Pasta Sides Stroganoff.

According to the instructions, this pasta stuff takes 8 minutes to cook. I'm rather happy about it because, A. It's well past lunchtime, and I'm hoongry!, and B. I have tried some of the Lipton Rice Sides, and they're OK, but the simple truth about me is:

I am always gonna prefer pasta to rice.

Except when I'm eating Chinese food. Then I prefer rice — fried rice to white rice, but either will do, really. I am downright disdainful of those lo mein noodles. They just don't seem right.

Everyone at the news office was in a good mood today. EVERYone. It was frightening, really.

And outside, it is fucking gorgeous.

One day closer to summer ...

2004-01-10T21:41:00.000-06:00

I can BREATHE!!

Through both nostrils, even. And it feels so good!

: )

Although, at the moment, I've got a lungful (or 2) of carpet cleaner fumes, so the duration of my breathe-ability might be rather short.

No matter. I am enjoying it while I can.

Just breathe ...

Since I am in the cleaning mode, I am going to need to update those linkages at the left. For starters, Clarke's Place appears to be defunct, for now and perhaps always. Maybe I should add some blogger links? I have been reading a couple of online journals lately, nearly religiously:

1. Second Person, Singular — A blog by a guy named Matt whose writing is so good, sometimes, that I can actually feel it.

His current post discusses blogs, and whether people who keep blogs keep them away from the people they know in "the real world."

As usual, this Matt-post made me think. It also helps, I suppose, that I have thought about this topic before. Matter o' fact, I thought long AND hard about writing an online journal — for starters, because I've never been so good about keeping ANY kind of diary or journal, and also because I, despite thinking of myself as "an open book," am sometimes as closed as a person can be, about certain topics and issues and what-not.

I don't always want people to know what's going on in my life, in my head.

Especially when I am extremely mad at or upset with a specific person.

So I made a decision not to vent (too much) in my blog. I decided maybe it's best not to write anything negative about people I know. Truthfully, it's a good idea not to say anything bad about anyone, period; after all, isn't that one of the Four Agreements?

Be impeccable with your word.

Yeah. I thought so.

Anyhoo, I have shared my blog address with people I know online but have never actually met. I have also shared it with people that I do know, in person, and also have kept in contact with online. I have shared it with my sister (she thinks I use the word "fuck" too much) and have actually brought her to tears with one of my posts.

I have not shared it with my mother; I don't want her to worry about me anymore than she probably already does. (Actually, she doesn't worry about me all that much. I have always been a good kid. Well, except for that stretch during my h.s. years when I was a pure smart-ass.)

: )

2. Tequila Mockingbird — This blog is by a girl named Julia who simply has a great way with words ... and plenty of great stories to tell.

(So great, in fact, that I can even overlook her refusal to capitalize.)

This past week or longer, Julia has been going through somewhat of a blogger's nightmare: Someone has been plagiarizing her blog. Yes, cutting 'n' pasting right from her journal and passing off her words (and other bloggers' words) as his own.

Yes, I am just paranoid AND cynical enough to believe that someday, perhaps even I will be copied 'n' pasted on some other site in Bloggerville. Although ... man, how boring would someone's life have to be for them to take excerpts from MY life and pass them off as their own??!

On second thought: I don't really believe that would happen.

However: That is one of the reasons I don't post any of my poetry and/or fiction online.

(Another reason being, of course, that I haven't actually WRITTEN any poetry and/or fiction in the last year or so. But that's a whole 'nother matter.)

: )

2004-01-06T20:55:00.000-06:00

New

Started the new job yesterday. And I wanted to write about it last night, but I couldn't, and even though I lay in bed for at least an hour, unable to fall asleep, I still couldn't make myself get up and stare into the glare of the monitor.

I have heard that phrase "too tired to sleep," and I've always thought it was pretty stupid, but I have felt that way the last several nights. Starting with the 2nd of January, when I actually caught myself thinking, "Man, I feel INCREDIBLY healthy! I feel so good!" — and then, in-between shifts at work, I put my lil' head on my pillow for a late-afternoon nap, and when I awoke, I felt crappy. No kidding.

And haven't felt too good ever since ... except maybe Saturday when it was actually 63 DEGREES outside and I was wearing cargo shorts and a sweatshirt (currently, it is 14 degrees, according to this Weather Bug thingie that managed to show up on my desktop). Of course, on Saturday I had already begun obsessing about the job, so I didn't feel all that great.

My eyes are burning and my nose is partly stuffed up. Sinusitis? Allergies? Who knows.

And the job. The job.

Not really in the mood to write about it, after all.

I did clean my desk, though ... which always makes people think I'm quitting. Au contraire! So I am living up to at least one of my resolutions.

Still can't figure out why, after calling my dept. chair at the college and telling her I would not be able to teach this semester, I hung up the phone and immediately burst into tears. Tried to explain it to one of my co-workers: "I guess when you've done something for eight years, it becomes a part of you," I said.

"You'll cry harder than that when you leave this place," she said.

Yes, I probably will.

I really hate good-byes.

Expressed or implied ...

2004-01-04T21:29:00.000-06:00

Et cetera, Whatever

What is it about Robert Smith's voice that sounds so honest, so sad?

So far tonight, I've seen that "Pictures of You" commercial with the Cure song playing in the background. Don't even know if that's the name of the song, or what the commercial is for (!!), but I know I always like hearing Robert Smith's voice.

I am starting a new job tomorrow. Same company, different job. I don't know exactly how I feel: nervous, excited, anxious, sad. I am SOOOOO resistant to change sometimes. So ... we shall see.

And today could not have been gloomier.

Ooh, watching one of the all-time GREAT movie endings: Presumed Innocent. SO excellent when he sees the blood and hair on that hammer-thingie. And Bonnie Bedelia (sp?) — who has MAJOR hair issues on her new show — is quite good in this movie.

2004-01-01T01:34:00.000-06:00

I won $20 playing bunco!

New Year's Eve RULES!!

Ended up with a record of 10 wins and 14 losses, which wasn't even CLOSE to garnering me a share o' the pot; however, my 2 buncos (buncoes?) earned me some cold, hard cash.

Bunco: A dice game requiring absolutely NO skill whatsoever. Although it does help if you can roll the dice fairly quickly (gives you and your partner more time to "score"). Basically, you have 4 people per table, partnered up with the person across from you. You each take turns rolling 3 dice, trying to roll as many of each number in a turn as you can before anyone at any of the other tables (in our case, we had 3 tables going) either scores 23 points or gets a bunco (all 3 dice matching the number that you are attempting to roll). You start with 1's, then 2's, then 3's, and so on, until you've done 6's, and then you start a new game.

At least, that's the way WE play it.

(My mom hosts bunco once a month. I subbed one time. I remember laughing a lot and eating some good food.)

I should be listing all my resolutions, but I resolved long ago not to make resolutions. Instead, I wait 'til Ash Wednesday and give up something for Lent ... even though I'm not Catholic. (I found out that Lent lasts only a few weeks, as opposed to a whole year ... plus it doesn't start as soon!)

: )

This year, though, I have a few areas of ... something (improvements I need to make? concerns I have?) ... I dunno, just THINGS I know I need to work on.

1. Be tidier, at home and at work. Mainly at home. I concentrate better when my place is in order. A stunning realization, after 38-plus years of being a complete mess!!

2. Get fit. Hey, I ain't getting any younger.

3. Be the best I can be, in everything I do. Sounds kinda hokey, but how many times have I allowed myself to slack over the last few years?

4. Apply the Four Agreements on a everyday basis. Be impeccable with your word. Do not take anything personally. Do not make assumptions. Always do your best.

5. Write something I like. Preferably something I like A LOT. Doesn't have to be a masterpiece ... doesn't even have to be good, really. Just something I like.

OK, that's enough.

The beans are soaking ...

2003-12-31T00:01:00.000-06:00

New Year's Eve Eve

Too many eves, but it's the night before the night before the new year (well, on the East Coast, it's already New Year's Eve day ... but I'm not on the East Coast, now, am I?), and God knows I struggle with those post titles as it is.

I tell my students not to worry about the titles. That a title is actually the least important part of a piece of writing. That you can have THE greatest title in the world, but if the writing itself is bad, it simply doesn't matter. That you can have a great piece of writing and a mediocre to crummy title, and you WILL get a good grade. A great grade.

Feelin' kinda strange. One of my daily Web stops has gone offline, and I should be upset, but I'm really not. Maybe it was time, who knows. Had a few things posted over there that I wanted to retrieve and didn't get a chance to, and that sucks, but ... nothing monumental. No great pieces of poetry or literature, just ... well, some of my stuff. But: Whatcha gonna do?

Can't cry over it. Just feel a little pang of sadness. And I made some friends over there, and silly me, I don't think to save e-mail addresses, but I know that the people I am meant to stay in touch with, I will.

I am feeling oddly apathetic about life in general at the moment. Just tired, mainly, and it's (almost) the end of another year, and if I had to rank this year in relation to my entire life, I don't even know if I could. Some days I feel completely lost, as if I have no real clue where I fit into the cosmic scheme of things. And then I wonder, am I doing anything CLOSE to what I am supposed to be doing? Professionally? Personally?

Anyone? Anyone?

Got a note from the woman who used to teach the college Sunday school class at my church. Where I attended Christmas Eve service last week for the first time in two years. Anyway, the woman is a writer, and she always seemed to like me because I was trying to write, also.

(I should preface the remarks she made in the note by saying that, earlier today, I had told myself, as I left work: "I have lost interest.")

I had sent the woman a Christmas card, along with a personal and cheerful Christmas greeting, and she replied by telling me it was nice to receive a card, but "it would have been nicer if you had reported some of your activities." And asked me how I feel about what I am doing. And asked me if I have plans to do other things.

And honestly, at this moment, I simply could not say.

Oh, and look, according to my computer clock (which a pop-up message earlier tonight told me COULD be wrong!), it's midnight.

New Year's Eve, officially.

What a rush.

2003-12-29T13:51:00.000-06:00

This one goes out to the one(s) I love.

Not sure exactly why that title just popped into my head. I was going to go with "Is it a new year yet?" but then Michael Stipe (which I nearly typo'd "Spite") & Co. were suddenly running — or, more specifically, singing — in my head.

And now I have COMPLETELY lost my train of thought.

And I know I wanted to wallow a bit, too, so perhaps I am trying to distract myself.

And I actually have to work in about half an hour, and I could really use a nap, but since I am incapable of napping when I know I have less than 30 minutes in which to nap ... ixnay on the apnay.

It's just that I read something this morning, and it reminded me of the level on which human beings are capable of connecting via this particular medium, and then it reminded me how much people are capable of hurting one another, and once again I was all sad and glad and mostly ... well, sorry. And wishful. And wistful.

Lemme turn back the clock and see if I can get it all right, this time ...

Nah. I would still manage to fuck up to just about the same degree I did. Only this time, maybe I would be a little more brazen in my fuck-ups.

But what do I know?

The only true thing that I know, at this moment, is that after you have gone so long without hearing the voice of the person you are most dying to talk to, you start to forget to imagine the responses she or he might have to the statements you make. You can no longer invent the answers to your questions, no longer anticipate the reactions.

Still, though, you can hear her voice. And her laughter.

Across the Universe

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither wildly as they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my opened mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
They call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box, they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Sounds of laughter, shades of love are ringing
Through my open mind inciting and inviting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a
million suns, it calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru deva om
Nothing's gonna change my world,
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva
Jai guru deva

— The Beatles

And the version I have, right now, going through my head is the one sung by Rufus Wainright.

2003-12-25T22:47:00.000-06:00

Merry Christmas!

After an incredible past coupla days, I just managed to reread something from last month, and it made me realize that maybe I've misinterpreted silence, or that maybe I have been reading too much into something, and now I suddenly realize that, finally, there is no need to feel bad about anything anymore.

And, I don't.

And every relationship that is "meant to be," on any level, in my life, will be ... and any relationship that's not, won't.

So simple, really. Why must I sometimes try to over-complicate things?

(I never used to. There was a time in my life — a good, solid 2 to 10 years there [not sure exactly how long, but it was nice little stretch] — where I was easy as pie, easy as Sunday morning, easy as any cliché a person could dream up. And it was great.)

Anyway, no more. No more over-complication. After all, not everything is all about me.

Wow, just learned on the Food Network that a teaspoon was actually so named because it contains just the right amount of tea for a cup of ... well, tea! Who'd-a thunk it? Honestly, I never thought about it before. Ever!

: )

Wanted to ramble about holidays and stuff, but ... too tired, I guess.

2003-12-22T21:52:00.000-06:00

Short Sleeves & Rain

Oddly warm for a Dec. 22 night.

"Expect a lotta rain," Jim Rasor says. And definitely NO snow for Christmas.

Ah, he's not always right.

Received 2 cool presents today: A book about the Cubs' 2003 season, and Cold Mountain. Which I am looking forward to seeing. Probably not on Christmas day, but hopefully not too long after. And preferably not 'til I've read at least a few chapters of the book.

Although I never seem to read as much as I should ...

Got a job offer today. Actually, it's sort of a promotion/new position (heh) at my current workplace. Not sure they can pay me what I'm worth. Well, in fact, I KNOW they can't/won't pay me what I'm worth ... but will they pay me enough to justify me taking the new position and giving up my part-time gig?

We'll see.

_________ly (can't think of the adverb I wanted to use, just then), all the considerations of the present and "the holiday season" are preventing me from dwelling too much on the past. Normally not a problem for me, or at least it wasn't until the last couple of years. Starting with the new century, actually.

My own private Y2K meltdown.

(Some IM's are better left unanswered, she realized, nearly 4 years later.)

(Nah, I can't say that. Look at everything I've learned, how I've grown.)

I am a better person for everyone I have known. I honestly believe this.

Have I enhanced any of them, as well? Gosh, I hope so.

2003-12-21T22:35:00.000-06:00

Killer Movie Night

Yeah. Spent the evening flipping from Titanic on NBC to Bridges of Madison County on TNT, with a little Cold Case (CBS) mixed in. Talk about KILLER movies! Damn. And now, on TNT: Message in a Bottle. And me with a thing for Costner! Don't think I'll last through this one, though: Have to work tomorrow for the first time since last Tuesday.

Could I be LESS excited? Probably not.

Finished my Christmas cards, too, and, as usual, not a minute too soon. As it is, I'll be lucky if they get to their destinations in time.

As usual ...

2003-12-20T17:48:00.000-06:00

Life IS beautiful.

And no sooner did I mention it in here than I actually received the film itself from my best pal's brother and sister-in-law during today's birthday/Christmas party. Sorta thought I might be getting it because I put it on my "list" a few weeks back. Might have to watch it later tonight.

We celebrated 3 birthdays today: Deshea (15), Shane (9) and Shelby (4). Gave Shea a lava lamp; she said she liked it — "I thought it was going to be something embarrassing!" she admitted. Couldn't tell if Shane liked his Transformer (I believe it was one of the Optimus Prime series), but ... he probably did.

Shelby's comment was the best: "It's JUST what I wanted!" she exclaimed as she opened the Polly something-or-other w/lifeguard stand and various bathing suits. Then we made a "swimming pool" out of the bathroom sink.

More Shelby comments:

Upon finding the instructions at the bottom of the box as I removed Polly and her accessories:

"Look, it's money!"

Upon realizing it was NOT money:

"Look, it's instructions!"

Pretending to read the instructions:

"OK, now I'll tell you how to put it apart!"

Later, prior to departing for McDonald's Playland and Candy Cane Lane:

"Dad, can I take this [Singing Dora the Explorer doll] in the van with me?"

Upon hearing no reply from her father:

"Just say, 'Shore!'"

: )

2003-12-19T23:16:00.000-06:00

More

Ooh, Emeril just said, "Spinach and artichoke dip," so of course my ears perked up!

: )

Even though I know he can't POSSIBLY make it any better than MY spinach artichoke dip. MY recipe, straight off a can (bottle?) of Kraft parmesan cheese. Still, it's a few minutes 'til Seinfeld, so, what the heck?

Just watched Talk to Her. I have had the DVD for months now, and I'm not exactly sure why. I kept seeing this film any time I'd go looking for movies, and I'd pick it up, and read the back, and think, hmm, this looks sort of ... different, and then I'd put it back. And then, a few months ago, I bought it — along with Abre Los Ojos because, well, that's Vanilla Sky-esque and all — but I hadn't managed to watch either one.

Interesting film, I will say that, although: Subtitles? Ick! Fortunately, not a lot of banter in this movie, so it was fairly easy to keep up, but if there happened to be dialogue going on and I happened to hit the volume ... oops! The top line of dialogue was missing.

I believe the only other "foreign film" I've seen is Life Is Beautiful. Wow, that Roberto Benigni (sp?) was annoying as all get-out for the first half of that movie, but wow, what a great film! Matter o' fact, I need to see that one again; it's the kind of movie that sorta sneaks up on you, and about two-thirds of the way through it, you're like, wow. WOW!

(At least I was, anyway.)

Song in my head, right now: That piano solo toward the end of American Beauty ... after Lester has taken a bullet to the head, and all the reactions of the people in his life ... there was actually slightly similar music during one key scene in Talk to Her, so maybe that's what got me thinking of AB.

2003-12-19T20:02:00.000-06:00

Don't "mental health days" count the same as "sick days"?

If not: They should.

And on that note, the Christmas shopping is officially done, and I am once again over-extended, but I can't even allow myself to think about it. Seriously. After all, it's only a matter of time until my lucky break comes along, right? I mean, I could already be a winner of 84 million dollars, thanks to that impulse Mega Millions ticket purchase yesterday whilst getting gas at the Carterville MotoMart. And besides: My hibiscus bloomed yesterday.

Christmas is less than a week away.

I am in the midst of 5, count 'em, 5 days off, in a row. Started out as two vacation days Wednesday and Thursday, during which I could just feel that I was going to need a sick day today, followed by the weekend-before-Christmas weekend that is now upon me.

Deck the halls ...

Richard Belzer (John Munch) reminds me of a guy I know/used to work with named Clint.

What to do? What to watch? I am not used to having Friday nights "off." Nor am I used to being online when my Norton AntiVirus thingie starts up. Wicked!

I need to put on some music. Or a movie. Or maybe both.

Yet, I'm in the mood for a good, long chat. One that includes music and movies and deep, insightful observations on just about anything. And naturally, no one's around ...

*sigh*

2003-12-17T23:34:00.000-06:00

While you were shopping ...

Before I forget, must post the lyrics from this song I just heard on tonight's (taped) episode of The Shield.

All My Little Words

You are a splendid butterfly
It is your wings that make you beautiful
And I could make you fly away
But I could never make you stay
You said you were in love with me
Both of us know that that's impossible
And I could make you rue the day
But I could never make you stay

Not for all the tea in China
Not if I could sing like a bird
Not for all North Carolina
Not for all my little words
Not if I could write for you
The sweetest song you ever heard
It doesn't matter what I'll do
Not for all my little words

Now that you've made me want to die
You tell me that you're unboyfriendable
And I could make you pay and pay
But I could never make you stay

— Magnetic Fields

Man, I LOVE that show! And I really dug that song, too, played right at the end.

Anyhoo, big big shopping day today filled with all sorts of little happenings to make me smile.

Like the fragrance counter woman in Famous, who was trying to catch my eye from the moment I stepped into the store. I had 2 big shopping bags, one in each hand, and I purposely did not look her direction. Still, as I approached, she asked, "Would you care to try the new Dior blah blah blah?"

"No," I muttered and suddenly wished I'd also flinched and acted all freaked out or something.

I took the bags out to the car, and when I was tossing them into the trunk, I heard a car behind me, idling. Because I had a primo parking spot, and they coveted it. However, I was not meeting my shopping pal for another 90 minutes, so I slammed the trunk and crammed the keys into my pocket and sauntered back to the store.

(I did not look back as I walked, but I am confident that the driver was glaring at me.)

: )

Later, after the shopping excursion had moved to another locale, I sat in the car for a couple of minutes, listening to music. Unfortunately, the kid sitting in the Durango parked right in front of me insisted on pushing the panic button, setting off the horn, ever 30 seconds or so — right when I was trying to listen to "Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley. I worked up a pretty fair amount of hatred for the kid in those few minutes, and then here came his mother, who glared in at him when he kept her locked out for a few seconds.

[Cue — or should that be queue? — Tootie from Facts of Life: "You're gonna be in trou-bellllllll!"]

I couldn't hear their conversation, of course — they were in their vehicle, I in mine, windows up 'cause it was cold outside, plus Buckley was hitting the really really high notes by then — but I could tell the mother was fussing at the kid. She inadvertently conked him in the head with her bag as she tossed it into the back, and I chuckled.

Then, as they drove away, the kid was looking out the window and just smiling ...

And suddenly, I absolutely adored that kid!

Purchase o' the day: A stuffed Stitch wearing a sweater with the word "NAUGHTY" on the front, bought at the Disney Store. I'm giving it to Aunt Janie. (Shhh!)

: )

2003-12-16T22:50:00.000-06:00

Misc.

My eyes burn.

Maybe from the cold wind today when I walked from and to my car. Walked on-campus. Darted into Huck's for Cokes and J.R.'s Fish Co. for food. And in-between, when I was on the verge of a nap, covers snuggled up around my chin, sleepy, sleepy ... and then the cell phone rang, and my eyes popped open, burning but open, and then unable to close again for sleep, just then.

Debra calls to say Bob is OK. Nauseous and dry-heaving from the anesthesia, an 8-inch scar on the right side of his neck, but OK.

(What the heck? A 3-hour surgery should garner you a decent-sized scar, right?)

Sometime during the night, I heard rain. Hard rain. Actually, it sounded like hail. Ping-pong ball-sized hail, or maybe actual ping-pong balls, like the kind that used to fall from the "sky" on Captain Kangaroo. The pavement is wet this morning, but when I ask a new co-worker if she heard the rain during the night, she says no, so I wonder if I heard actual rain, or rain only in my dreams. Or hail.

Two years ago today ...

I cannot allow myself to remember.

Because when I remember, I wonder if anyone else remembers. Namely she: Does she remember? Does her memory allow her to remember even one good moment, talking to me? Ever?

Was it actual rain, or rain only in my dreams?

No, it was December. It must've been snow. And snow makes hardly any sound, certainly not enough to be heard whilst I'm sleeping.

I remember days and weeks of looking forward to nothing but sleep. Because she was never in my dreams, and I never felt bad or sad or even glad, in my dreams. And then, when I would wake up, for those few seconds between sleep and awake when I wasn't quite conscious, wasn't thinking, really, I was aware only that it was morning and I was alive and I had to get up and take a shower and then BAM! I remembered.

Everything.

Switching gears ...

Which reminds me: Frasier was extremely funny tonight. Niles and Frasier trying to learn how to ride bikes. Classic Crains! (Or is it Cranes? Never really knew.)

I need to put more pictures in here. What's the point of having FTP-access if I'm not going to tack on a picture every now and again? (I'm mainly saying this because I ran across a cool blog today that had a photo with every entry. A good photo, too.)

2003-12-15T22:33:00.000-06:00

This Shirt

The shirt I have on smells like fruit-flavored Certs.

Which I never liked, really.

It's a Levi's flannel shirt. Red. The button on the right cuff is missing.

Today at work, my Secret Santa gave me a navy-blue fleece with OLD NAVY in yellow letters on the front. It fits great, and wouldn't you know, just the other day I was saying to myself, y'know, I need to get me another fleece.

Funnily enough, the woman who had my name is the woman whose name I had, too. Second year in a row that has happened — although it was a different woman whose name I had and who had my name, last year — but still. What are the odds?

(It's not necessarily odd that both years, it was a woman who had my name. Currently, and last year, too, my workplace was all-female. Which seems like it could be a good thing, but in reality ... it can be a pain.)

Last year, I gave a bottle of Bailey's and shot-glasses from Dallas, Las Vegas, Reno and St. Louie — part of my whirlwind mid-December trip — and received an As Good as It Gets DVD. And we both drank a shot o' Bailey's, right there at work. This year, I gave a Hallmark ornament ("Smittens" — snowmen who can hold hands because there are tiny magnets in their mittens!) and a framed photo of the girls at the office that my Secret Santa had requested.

Fa la la la la, la la la la ...

: )

2003-12-14T19:47:00.000-06:00

Cutter

His real name was Brian Plawer, but we called him Cutter. From that Cutter Evergreen commercial. We started quoting from it the first time Brian guided us down the Kaskaskia River.

"Hey, Brian, new aftershave?" someone asked.

"No. It's my new insect repellent: Cutter Evergreen," Brian replied, right on cue, and from then on, he was Cutter.

Cutter and his wife, Wanda, had taken on the task of taking our church youth group on a canoe trip. About 12 of the squirreliest members of our group — myself included — had signed up for the trip.

The Plawers gave us lessons on the j-stroke and the c-stroke, and instructions in various aspects of water safety, one evening at Lake Shelbyville, and a week later, we headed down the Kaskaskia. Cutter and Wanda in the lead in their green "Old Town" canoe, the rest of us crashing our metal crafts into each other as we made our way down the river.

Most of us zig-zagging along from bank to bank, occasionally getting tangled up in low-hanging branches or running aground on some half-submerged log.

And we played "Keep Away" with the suntan lotion and told jokes and acted out various TV commercials as we paddled.

"Hey, you've got our lunch!" Jack called out, imitating an Eckrich commercial of the day.

"We know!" Charles responded, and then whispered, "Row faster!" to his canoe partner.

(Charles was the only other person with his own canoe, a light-blue one that had apparently seen better days. Not unlike his family's boat, which had a huge dent in the hull from where his sister Margaret had rammed it into the dock at Lake Sara one previous summer.)

We camped overnight near Horseshoe. Kara, Teresa and I got in trouble for mixing it up with some drunken fishermen across the river during the night, and eventually we laughed ourselves to sleep.

Wanda taught us how to cook: Scrambled eggs in a cast-iron skillet, "hobo dinners" — hamburger, carrots and potatoes, covered by onions and sealed up in foil — over an open flame, cherry and peach cobbler (Jiffy cake mix and a can of whichever fruit you favored).

Next day, up at the crack — just when the sun came blazing through the ceiling of the tent, turning your cozy little home-away-from-home into a mini-sauna — and back on the river.

That night, we ended up camping just south of the Thompson Mill Covered Bridge. There, we discovered a huge oak tree (maybe it was an elm) with a rope swing. We all took our turn, swinging out as far as the rope would take us, then dropping into the river, letting it take us downstream a few yards before we swam safely to shore.

Karen became known as "The Masochist" on that swing. Three times, she swung out over the river in what looked to be a perfect glide, only to hold on a split-second too long, each time, and be dragged back a few feet in the water before she finally let go. (Her thighs were bright red after that third attempt. It was brutal.)

We sang a few verses of the required "Kum Ba Yah" while we sat around the campfire. We played Murder. Tee-Hee and I plotted ways to lure Roger and John out of their tent, where a hoisted-up burning picnic table would "mysteriously" fall on their heads. Rob picked up the worst case of poison ivy I've ever seen. We made S'mores.

Our excursion ended the next day, but this wouldn't be our last canoe trip with Cutter. He took us down the Kaskaskia a couple more times, and then we ventured over to the Black River in Missouri. One time, when I was in college, I returned home to join the h.s. group in a trip on the Current River.

Along the way, I got to know Cutter and Wanda and their 3 kids: Amanda, Miriah and Adam. Baby-sat for them a couple of times. Miriah and I had a special greeting.

"Hi, Di," Miriah would say.

"Hi, Miri," I would reply.

Eventually, they moved away, but they became active in their new church in Oakwood. And the kids grew up, and I kept thinking I'd see them again.

And then, suddenly, it's 1997. And I return from a trip to ... the Bahamas? Cancun? — somewhere tropical and somewhat exotic, and my mom is telling me that Cutter has been killed.

Not in a car wreck or any kind of freak canoeing accident, but by a bomb. While he and Wanda were working at their church, helping put together that week's newsletter.

A random victim of some randomly placed pipe bomb. Heard a noise, walked outside, saw a box sitting on the steps, moved the box, KABOOM!

(All kinds-a bombing going on this past week on network TV. Thursday night CSI and All My Children. Just got me thinking about Cutter, who died Dec. 30, 1997.)

2003-12-13T23:48:00.000-06:00

Snow Come Down

And come down it did, early this a.m., not exactly the 1-3 inches the weathermen predicted, but a suitable dusting, nevertheless. First snow o' the season! Jubilation, all around!

: )

For a while it quit, but by the time The Lovely and I were heading out to dinner and the mall, it was snowing steadily. Coming down, slow-motionlike, in big ol' flakes. And not those sloppy, wet flakes, either — which I really like, actually, 'cause they're so excellent for making snowballs and forts and what-not. It was coming down slow enough I actually think I might've been able to photograph it, but ... no camera, at that moment.

Song in my head: "Snow Come Down" by Lori Carson.

2003-12-11T18:08:00.000-06:00

Dangling Conversation(s)

I like to think I have to have just the right conditions in order to write.

Dark room, lit only by a couple of vanilla-scented candles and the computer screen. Music — preferably something I know well — playing on the stereo. Comfortable spinny chair, my feet propped up on the slat at the back of the desk or the plastic container full of pictures. Preferably late at night when no one is likely to call to interrupt the mood.

Although, if she should call ...

Well, then: Interrupt away!

: )

In all reality, though, writing is not that complicated. The hard part is just doing it, sometimes. Getting the words down on paper or on screen instead of simply letting them swirl around in my head.

So, now, with that in mind, here are the conditions for today:

Every light in the house is on. No Christmas tree lights because, heh, I haven't managed to drag out my mini-me tree just yet. Don't even want to, really, except for those late nights, close to Christmas, when I already know I'll want to sit on my couch, listening to "Pat A Pan" by the Steamroller and stare at the lights, letting my eyes relax and the lights go all blurry, and maybe snow will be falling, outside, and I will suddenly start to feel that "Christmas spirit" that I have been trying to feel ever since I was in first grade.

And Seinfeld is on. Syndicated Seinfeld, that is. Used to be, Thursday nights were my favorite because I knew, come 8 o'clock, I'd be watching a new episode. Now? There's nothing to look forward to, TV-wise. I mean, I've watched TV all day today, but it's done nothing for me. Food Network, mainly; it calms me, I've decided. Except for this new show I've watched twice with some woman named CeCe (sp?) Carmichael (sp?), and I can't quite decide if she's actually cooking or ... I don't know. She seems like she could burst into song, or maybe flames, at any moment.

: o

Pretty chaotic in here, for writing.

"Jerry! We've lost the fat man, and we're runnin' lean!" — Kramer

: )

My "Daily Beauty" for yesterday came from my friend Jake. His mom, who is a friend of mine and a co-worker, interviewed for a new job, and afterwards, she was telling Jake about the new responsibilities, benefits, etc. Then she asked him what he thought about it.

"Will we still know Di?" he asked.

"Well, of course!"

"OK. Take it."

: )

I woke up with that "Secret Lovers" song in my head. The one by Atlantic Starr that played when Cheryl and I were sneaking around, having this secret love affair because I was too afraid to tell my pals I had a girlfriend.

Wow, that girl put up with a lot of crap to be with me.

I mean, I know I'm worth it, but still.

I remember dancing with her to that song the night before I was leaving Orlando and she was staying. Our perfect little love affair was coming to a perfect end because spring break was over, and I was going back to school and she was staying there, permanently, because that's what she had planned to do — albeit a couple of months earlier, before she had broken her arm running to answer the phone. (Was it me calling? I don't think so, now that I think about it.) So she'd stayed up here a few weeks longer than she'd planned, and she and I got closer and closer, and then about a week before she moved to Florida, she asked me if I wanted to go with her — just for the week — and I went and it was great, and then I came home and she stayed.

And then she came back because she missed me. And that was not what I had planned, and I panicked, and I broke up with her. I knew, immediately, that I had made a mistake and that I had hurt her. And we drifted back together, sort of, but it was never the same, for her, and wouldn't you know it, just about the time I was feeling everything I'd been afraid to feel for her, earlier: She was gone.

I mean, she's still alive and everything. Back in Orlando, actually, and I saw her on AOL just a few minutes ago. Should've IM'd her to tell her about the song I was singing when I awoke.

Man, I was a pain, but she still would've appreciated me mentioning the song.

This, I know.

: )

Funny how my mind wanders when I start typing. I sat down thinking I was going to write about how my earliest musical influence was my stepbrother Bobby — although, now that I think about it, it was actually my mother ("Sugar, Sugar" and those red and black 45s) — and an unrelated story about this 89-year-old man named Cornell Neal who came in to talk to me today.

Old men and teen-aged boys. I do have a way with them.

2003-12-08T20:38:00.000-06:00

All the Right Friends, Part 2

Today, one of my favorite people in the world was a very good friend to me.

And she's one of those kick-ass friends, too — cute, smart, funny.

Someone who runs her own business and can make things happen with a simple phone call. (Power!)

She's also someone who doesn't keep count.

Mostly, though, what she did today was help me through an uncomfortable situation by making me feel as if it wasn't a big deal. That it wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it was.

And she was right, but I needed to hear it, and she was there.

And it wasn't just lip service, either, because she walked me through it and then was there for me later, to lend more of her expertise and support.

And friendship.

I was overwhelmed.

And hopefully, tonight I will get more than 4.5 hours of sleep.

: )

2003-12-07T16:02:00.000-06:00

Sunday Matinee

I am honest-to-God tearing up right now watching these last few lines of Meet Joe Black ... again ...

Susan: We know so little about each other.
Joe: But we've got time.

And later ...

Susan: What do we do now?
Joe: It'll come to us.

: )

And now I'm flipping over to A Few Good Men to wait for Jack to scream, "You can't handle the truth!"

Although, truthfully, I find it funnier when George Costanza says it!

2003-12-06T23:19:00.000-06:00

(Almost) Full Moon

So, tonight I am driving down the highway to pick up my "date" for the office Christmas party. And I am having a particularly good hair night, thanks to a little bit o' Dep, and I have on a new Ol' Navy button-down, Levi's and Doc's. I smell good, too, with a little bit of Curve dabbed on my wrists.

And speaking of the button-down (blue, sorta plaid): As I'm ironing it, I notice that there's something in the pocket. I'm thinking, hmm, maybe it's some of that tissue paper, so I pull it out — and it's an entire CUFF, kinda like it's been cut off one of the shirt sleeves (obviously not from this particular shirt, although the material is the same) and shoved in the pocket, "just in case" you're ever out and you get your shirt cuff cut off and you need an extra one (as IF you'd have a spare needle and matching thread, too, to sew it back on, but I guess that's beside the point ... or is that "besides the point"? neither sounds right, right now).

There are buttons on this spare cuff, though, but there are also extra buttons sewn just inside the shirttail, too, so I'm thinking: Why bother?

Anyhoo, as I drive I notice that the moon is almost full, and it's illuminating the sky the way the almost-full moon does on a cloudless night. And it's very chilly out — it's December, after all — but not so cold that wearing a jacket is mandatory, but I've got one with me, thrown into the backseat, just in case. And I have one of my Mannheim Steamroller Christmas CDs playing — not sure of the title, but it's the one with "Still, Still, Still" and "O, Holy Night" on it — and suddenly I feel better than I have felt in a couple of days.

And it reminds me of one of those nights when I was in h.s., and I'd go riding around with Jill or Shawn or somebody, and we'd end up somewhere in "the country." Talking. Laughing. Just generally goofing off. And for a few minutes, while I'm driving, I want to head out to the lake or somewhere, park my car and stare at the moon and listen to the Steamroller for the next couple of hours.

Or years.

2003-12-06T00:28:00.000-06:00

All the Right Friends

Today (hmm, well, actually, yesterday, now that I look at the clock) sorta sucked, mostly, and then, suddenly, it didn't. Still, I hate days when I have this gnawing, agitated outlook.

I hate days when I'm not in a good mood; I feel like I've wasted them. And you never get 'em back.

Tonight, after work, I return home and read my e-mail. Another note from Patti, whom I have known since I was 19. Half my life. We were such kids when we first knew each other: She from the suburbs (the city girl), I from Downstate (the hick).

I remember the night we went to Marty's, each of us with just enough money to buy one pitcher of beer. Patti bought a pitcher, and we drank it; I bought a pitcher, and we drank it. Then, just as we realized, sadly, that we were all out of money AND beer, these sorority girls came walking by our table, a three-fourths-full pitcher of beer in their hands.

"We have to leave, but we've got all this beer left. Do you two want it?"

We were as happy as we'd ever been. And quite possibly as DRUNK as we'd ever been, but that didn't stop us from polishing off that pitcher of beer and then stumbling home to our dorm just before dinner had ended.

God, I miss college.

Anyhoo, Patti's gem o' the day for today:

"Thinking of you and I: I read a lot. You write a lot. Together we'd make one great artist."

(I love you, Patti.)

: )

2003-12-05T07:06:00.000-06:00

Apathy is bliss.

But, admittedly, there have been times when I have tried too hard. With the whole friendship/relationship thing.

Nah, that's not true. I almost never try all that hard. Either I like someone and they like me, and we become friends for life (or at least from then on), or we don't. I've had this amazing good fortune in my life to find these people who are honest and true and good, and for whatever reason(s), they like me, too, and somehow, click! And that's it.

Once, though, I've tried too hard. And everything started out on even ground, and we really liked each other, but then I started to want too much. And it was difficult to tell what the other person wanted, at times, so I should've taken 3 "Mother, May I?" steps backward and possibly even run like hell, fast as I could, in the exact opposite direction ... but no, I don't like to give up.

If I think there is even a shred of hope in salvaging a relationship, I want to stick around to see if it can be saved.

I want to stay in the theater until the credits have all run; I want to make sure it's really over before I walk out.

This time, I've tried too hard. And I'm still trying. And I know, at practically every turn, I have made the wrong choice. Not necessarily what felt like the wrong choice — although, yeah, there was at least one hugely wrong choice, but it was kinda like one of those wrong left (or right!) turns you take whilst you're walking in the woods, and you keep thinking if you just keep going left (or right!), you might end up exactly where you're supposed to be.

And maybe THIS is exactly where we're supposed to be.

2003-12-04T23:01:00.000-06:00

And if nothing else:

Hopefully, at the end of my life, I will look back and know that if I ever had an issue with someone, a problem, whatever, I let him or her know about it. And if someone wronged me in some way, or treated me badly, or hurt me, I gave that person a chance to explain, and even apologize, if he or she were so inclined.

Because I have been there. The hurting kind.

Both sides, really. The hurter and the hurtee.

Sometimes, the silence hurts the worst.

2003-12-04T21:31:00.000-06:00

'Tis the season ...

Actually had a woman at work today tell me she'd rather hear a Kenny G Christmas CD than listen to me singing "Mack the Knife." I'd be lying if I said my feelings weren't hurt a little — NOT by the fact that she didn't want to hear me sing (what the fuck, I get THAT on a daily basis!), but how could anyone NOT want to hear a great song like "Mack the Knife"?

Oh, the shark, babe, has such teeth, dear ...

Preferably Bobby Darin's version. Actually, I'm-a-gonna hafta include the lyrics from this site 'cause it includes all the lil' "huh, huhs" uttered by ol' Bobby. Nevermind, I will link to it instead. (It's COOL to be linked!)

* Making mental note to make some template changes tomorrow ... or sometime soon *

My favorite part of "Mack the Knife":

Now on the sidewalk — uh, huh — whoo, sunny mornin’, uh-huh
Lies a body just oozin' life — Eek!
And someone’s sneakin' 'round the corner
Could that someone be Mack the Knife?

"Eek!" being my ABSOLUT favorite part!

: )

Anyway: Christmas.

I secretly laugh at the people who claim to have finished all their Christmas shopping by the end of October. I rolled my eyes at them back in May when I heard them say, "Ooh, you'll never guess what I found for _______ for Christmas!"

"You know, the world could end tomorrow," I actually said to one of my friends (can't remember which friend, now that I think about it; probably not a close friend), "and there you'd be, with all these Christmas gifts, and no one left to give them to."

I think thoughts like that, sometimes: What if the world comes to an end, and I still have, like, 11 rolls in a super-saver 12-roll pack of toilet paper or something? Two full weeks to go before the bottle of milk I just bought goes bad? Seven vacation days left? A couple of days 'til my birthday?

I think, maybe, that's why I sometimes tend to force the issue with people. I mean, if we like each other, let's spend time together. Get to know each other. Get intimate (and maybe even naked — or vice-versa) and get involved and get hooked and get mad and get over it and then get on with our lives.

Let's get busy.

Sometimes it just never feels as if there's ever enough time. And I feel like I'm one of the most laid-back people I know, but sometimes there's this incredible sense of urgency, and I wonder if everyone feels it. And then I notice I don't necessarily feel it with everyone or every situation or even every household item that's not even close to being depleted.

Just, sometimes.

So, I decide, today, on the one day of the week I don't have to do anything, once I'm done with work (at 10:30 a.m. — pretty good, even by my standards!), to wrap the present I'd gotten for the person whose name I drew for the gift-exchange at work (and it's not the woman who said she'd prefer Kenny G to me singing "Mack the Knife" — otherwise, I'd have spent the afternoon making WAV files and burning CDs of me, warbling away).

I reach into the closet for some wrapping paper (3 rolls, left over from last year), bows (a bagful! or is that "bag full"?) and gift tags (plenty), and I notice a Hallmark bag with a couple of Peanuts sculpture-thingies inside.

Can't remember when I bought 'em, but I know it was QUITE some time ago. One of them is golf-related (for Margaret), the other tennis (for The Lovely). I bought these items months ago with the intention of saving them 'til Christmas — and then I even managed to find them BEFORE Christmas!

: )

I totally rocked my world.

: )

Which means, counting those and the handful of items I've gotten over the last 2 to 3 weeks, I now have approximately one-eighth of my Christmas shopping done. And it's only Dec. 4, so, hopefully, there's still time.

Unless the world ends tomorrow

: /

Wow, just read "counting those" and suddenly thought of Counting Crows, and now I'm right back where I was hoping not to be: Thinking about one of my favorite online people and reminding myself that this is, indeed, December. And it's raining and cold and ... well, sorta perfectly fitting, somehow.

Let's get busy ...

2003-12-02T22:42:00.000-06:00

Tuesday Night

Earlier this year — what the hell, maybe it was earlier last year, I don't remember — I found the perfect birthday card for my pal Tee-Hee. One o' those "You know you're a redneck when ..." cards, and whenever I happened to find it (this year or last), her b'day was still several months away. So I filed away the card, and every time I would happen upon it, rearranging this stack or that, moving piles of stuff from one place to the next, I'd smile and think, HA! I can't WAIT to send her this card!

(Which makes me think it was last year that I bought the card. Seems like it's been a long time since I've seen it.)

Anyhoo, her birthday is tomorrow.

Naturally, I can't find the card. Anywhere.

And I should be looking for it, but honestly, I don't even know where to begin.

Plus, it'll be late, anyway. Perhaps I'll save it for next year.

(She will be 40 then. I'll still have 4 months left being 39. She loves when I remind her that I am younger than she is.)

: )

Got a lengthy e-mail from Patti this evening; matter of fact, I haven't even read the whole thing because I want to savor it. She had a baby in October (her 3rd child), so she's been a little busy lately. She's always busy, actually.

(Don't let anyone tell you "stay-at-home" moms don't work. She's done more each day by noon than I can sometimes cram into 3 days.)

She apologizes every time she e-mails — which is actually quite frequently — for not being able to e-mail more frequently. Hey, we went 15 years calling each other only on our birthdays, at Christmas and on the occasional blue moon, and seeing each other maybe once every 4 years, if we were lucky, before she FINALLY got online last year — which officially ranks among My Top 5 Memories of 2002 ... which might not be quite as big an honor as I make it out to be, considering I was in a horribly sad, self-indulgent, self-induced fog for at least 8 months out of the year, but it was one of the highlights in a mostly forgettable year.

So I'm grateful for those occasional bits of contact.

I had to smile at the part in this most recent e-mail where she told me, "Charlie was on the computer a good part of the day."

(Charlie just turned 3. He will know more about computers by the time he is 5 than we will know by the time we are dead.)

Technology. Gotta love it.

: )

2003-12-02T06:54:00.000-06:00

Bernie Gets His Mac On

OK, it's one of those rare moments that I am actually ahead of schedule, gettin' ready for work (what a difference 10 minutes can make), and God knows I don't wanna get to the office early — although those 40 minutes or so that I am alone, working in silence, are what I live for, professionally speaking.

And suddenly, while I was showering, I started thinking of that great scene from this week's The Bernie Mac Song where the kid was doing a (rhythmic?) gymnastics scene to the song "Eye of the Tiger" (ah, Rocky III, gotta LOVE it: "No, I don't hate Balboa, but I pity the fool!" — Clubber Lang), flipping that ribbon around. Anyway, the whole episode centered around how much Bernie wanted his nephew (?) to play basketball, but the boy preferred gymnastics instead ... and was pretty damn good at it, as it turned out. After Bernie went through the requisite teasing by his poker buddies and then was overheard criticizing gymnastics by his nephew, the boy quit the team. Naturally, Bernie eventually softened his view and by the end of the show accepted the kid's talent in this particular "sport."

Of course, the show ended with the boy displaying a genuine interest in members of the opposite sex — so, for Bernie Mac, all was right with the world.

*sigh*

Just like a CBS show last season, can't think of the name of it (not sure I've ever KNOWN the name of it — one of those shows about a pudgy, balding guy, his attractive wife and their 1 to 3 kids; in this one, Jamie/Jami Gertz plays the wife), in which the son decides to go out for cheerleading and is good at it but the father is appalled ... until, of course, he realizes that his son is attracted to girls.

And, again, all is right with the world.

: /

On a completely unrelated note:

I realized, later, that the "ohs" in the "Trapped" lyrics should actually be "oohs." For what it's worth.

And I adore this song:

deconstruction

we talked up all night
and still came to no conclusion
we started a fight
that ended in silent confusion

and as we sat stuck
you could hear the trash truck
making its way through the neighborhood

picking up the thrown out
different from house to house
we get to decide what we think is no good

we're sculpted from youth
the chipping away makes me weary
and as for the truth
it seems like we just pick a theory

and it's the one that justifies
our daily lives
and backs us with quiver and arrows

to protect openings
'cause when the warring begins
how quickly the wide open narrows

into the smallness of
our deconstruction of love
we thought it was changing
but it never was
it's just the same as it ever was

a family of foxes
came to my yard and dug in
so i looked in a book
to see what this could possibly mean

yeah cause there's fate in the breeze
signs in the trees
impossible tragic events

when forces collide
with the damage strewn wide
and holes blasted straight through the fence

oh the sky starts to crash
(into the smallness of)
the rain on the roof starts to drumming
(our)
and laid up like cache
(deconstruction of love)
you'll take on my list of shortcomings

and now the show starts to close
(the show)
i know how this goes
(starts to close)
the plot's a predictable showing

and though it seems grand
we're just one speck of sand
and back to the hourglass we're going

back to the smallness of
(into the smallness of)
our deconstruction of love
(our deconstruction of love)
we thought it was changing
but it never was

we're still in the smallness of
(into the smallness of)
our deconstruction of love
(our deconstruction)
we thought it was changing but it never was

our deconstruction of love

our deconstruction of love

— The Indigo Girls

2003-12-01T00:02:00.000-06:00

December

Yeah, it's here. The gladdest and saddest month of all.

I simply felt compelled to mention it, somehow. To someone.

2003-11-30T18:49:00.000-06:00

Early Christmas gifts ROCK!

Yes! Received The Essential Bruce Springsteen — which I thought was a double-CD, but turns out it's a TRIPLE-CD! — and The Gangs of New York DVD.

Early Christmas gifts fucking ROCK! (As I may have already mentioned.)

: )

And truthfully, I wanted the Bruce CD for one song: "Trapped." Which, as far as I know, was previously available only on the USA for Africa album, featuring all those artists singing, "We Are the World." (I think. I'm having a serious brain cloud at the moment.)

Anyway. LOVE this song. Always have.

Trapped

Well, it seems like I'm caught up in your trap again
And it seems like I'll be wearin' the same ol' chains
Good will conquer evil, and the truth will set you free
Then I know someday I'll find the key
Then I know somewhere I'll find the key

Well, it seem like I've been playin' the game way too long
And it seems the game I played has made you strong
Well, when the game is over, I won't walk out a loser
And I know that I'll walk out of here again
And I know that someday I'll walk out of here again

But now I'm trapped ... oh, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah

Now it seems like I've been sleepin' in your bed too long
And it seems like you've been meanin' to do me harm
But I'll teach my eyes to see beyond these walls in front of me
And someday I'll walk out of here again
Yeah I know someday I'll walk out of here again

But now I'm trapped ... oh, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah

Well it seem like I've been playin' the game way too long
And it seems the game I played has made you strong

Because I'm trapped ... oh, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah

I'm trapped ... oh, yeah, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah
Trapped ... oh, yeah

I'm trapped

— Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band

2003-11-30T14:06:00.000-06:00

Dreams II

I am wandering through some hotel, and I find out that Laura Ingraham wants to go out with me. She and I hang out for a bit, talk a little, and then retire to our own rooms to get ready to go out later that night. For some reason, I end up having all kinds of problems attempting to shower (in a rather public shower, it seems), and later I stand outside Laura's room, talking to her, again, whilst wearing only a towel.

She ends up going out that night, late, but I decide to stay in.

: (

[I wake up for a few minutes but decide it's too early to be awake.]

The dream continues ...

Grandma Ginny is driving me up to the church, where I am going to assist my sister in helping with the first- and second-graders for Bible school. Before I get in the car, though, I notice that the window is down and the passenger side of the car is covered with plastic; apparently, the window has been left open during the rain, and somehow I am to blame. Grandma barrels through intersections, ignoring stop signs, and careens around the corners. "Grandma!" I yell. "This is ridiculous!" And then I feel bad because I know she's losing her mind.

She drops me at the church, and I help my sister. Laura Ingraham is teaching in that classroom, too, and I am all happy.

Laura likes me.

: )

2003-11-29T22:54:00.000-06:00

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y Night

Just watched Kissing Jessica Stein, and I have to say, VERY charming movie. Some excellent moments, and some very relatable moments ... if "relatable" is even a word, and, if so, if I am even close to having it spelt right. (Put it this way: I could relate to MANY of the moments in this film.) I fell sort of in love with the girl who played Helen, and I completely understood the premise and even could accept the ending ... kind of ... even if it didn't turn out exactly the way I wanted it to.

So, anyway, big thanks to Lisa J. for suggesting this movie to me way back when ... and props to me for finally managing to watch it.

: )

And last night, Nicole Kidman totally stole The Human Stain. So tough, but so fragile.

Tom is right. She's on fire. She's blazing!

Song in my head: "Trapped" by Bruce Springsteen. Here's hoping I get The Essential Bruce CD I put at the top o' my Christmas list!

: )

I am so in the mood to chat, and none of my chat pals are around. I hate when that happens!

(Where are the Bay City Rollers when you need 'em??!)

2003-11-28T21:59:00.000-06:00

A Thanksgiving Poem

I am thinking
I should
take up drinking.

2003-11-27T22:33:00.000-06:00

Rain & Sarah

Long day. Too much turkey. Pumpkin pie's a hit. Four-hour round-trip journey shortened to about 3 hours, 35 minutes, thanks to not much traffic and cruise set at 80 mph. Dark house. Long nighttime nap, which sorta qualifies as sleep, in my book. Tonight's TV: First viewing of Cold Case, an episode apparently based on the Skakel (sp?) murder, bits 'n' pieces of CSI and Friends episodes I'd already seen, final half-hour of The Shawshank Redemption, interview special with Amy Grant and Vince Gill.

"Get busy living, or get busy dying." — Red, from Shawshank

And now it's raining, and Sarah McLachlan is singing on the stereo, but not too loud (loudly?), so I can hear the rain, too. And tomorrow some friends of mine are getting up at 5 a.m. (!!!) to go shopping at Best Buy, Staples and Office Depot. Or is it Office Max? And I say: God help me if I EVER get up at 5 a.m., ever, to go shopping at any of those stores! Even during the Christmas season!

This CD is very good. Maybe not as hook-y as Fumbling Towards Ecstasy, not yet, anyway, but damn, how DOES Sarah do what she does with her voice? And then I saw an interview with her yesterday on Lifetime network, and I realized I don't think I've ever seen one before, nor heard her talk, and her speaking voice is very different from her singing voice. Which is odd but kinda cool, I think. Anyway, there are 10 songs on this CD, and that actually seems to be a perfect amount.

Of course, on that Steaming CD, there were only 3 songs, and I listened to only one of them: Her cover of "Solsbury Hill." Which, at times, I can't even listen to, but only because it takes me back to a time I can't really remember but will never quite forget.

On a related yet unrelated note: A few minutes ago, I had that familiar phrase, "Some things happen for a reason," running through my mind.

Except I gave it my own twist: "Some things don't happen for a reason."

Which can have many different interpretations, I suppose. My emphasis, at this particular moment, is on the words "don't happen." As in, no matter how much you think you might want them to happen, they don't, and there is a reason — or multiple reasons — why they don't.

And maybe, just maybe, you're better off. Even though you might not think so, at the time.

(Even though I might not think so. At this time.)

2003-11-26T21:39:00.000-06:00

Gobble, gobble ...

I'd like to bottle this day and save it for later, if only because I spent a grand total of 20 minutes — OK, actually about 3 hours, give or take the 20 minutes I devoted to carving the smoked turkey at the news office — doing actual work. Plus I have 4 days off ahead of me. Excellent!

The rest of the day was devoted to, in no particular order: Getting my hair cut (and for the record, I have been enjoying a GREAT hair day, from about 10:45 a.m. on!), straightening up mi casa, cooking a turkey (what is it with my sudden domestic tranquility?), running my best pal on last-minute errands, wrapping presents (baby shower, NOT Christmas), getting caught up on taped shows from the past couple of days (Blue and Shield — speaking of which, that white female officer is a hottie and has kind of a Hilary Swank thing going on, I noticed).

I shouldn't be tired, but I am.

My new favorite commercial is the one for Toys Backwards-R Us that ends with Geoffrey the Giraffe singing, "Someone's playing with toys, Kum Ba Yah!" I laughed OUT LOUD when I saw it a couple of days ago, and it still makes me smile, remembering all those church trips and what-not, singing various ditties and spirituals or whatever, feeling like a Christian and a dork all at once, plotting late-night adventures.

This replaces my former favorite commercial, the "Sunday! Sunday!" one with the guy riding around with his buddy in a new Dodge Ram "hemi" — whatever the hell THAT is (all I know is I have a 4-cylinder, but my car has good pickup AND front-wheel drive, so it gets around OK on snow and ice, and really, that's all that matters).

: /

"Dishonestly is disrespectful." — Me, sometime around 6:55 p.m. Tuesday

Yeah, I said that with a straight face. And tried to kick my own ass as I was saying it, knowing there have been times in my own life that I haven't even been able to look at myself in the mirror. Knowing what I know, about me.

Not many of those times, but yes, indeedy, a few.

2003-11-25T20:19:00.000-06:00

Baking??!

Yeah, my cat couldn't believe it, either.

(Gotta love the kitchen wallpaper, though, right? What can I say, the house is a rental ... a 13-year rental. Will I EVER know the joys of homeownership — which includes, as its root word, compoundly speaking, one of my favorite words to say aloud: homeowner. Mainly because as I am saying it, I get to say "homo." Hehe!)

Speaking of which: I bought some HOMO MILK today at Farm Fresh. (That's what it said, right there in big bold letters on not 1 but 2 racks of Vitamin D Grade A pasteurized/HOMOgenized milk.)

So I am the self-designated Baker of Pumpkin Pies, now that Grandma Ginny is gone. Got her handwritten recipe and everything, so ... we'll see.

(Any pie with a whole container of pumpkin pie spice can't be all bad, right?)

: )

2003-11-23T08:40:00.000-06:00

Dreams

Just before I awake ...

I am driving around the Benton Public Square. I hear the sputtering of an airplane; I look up, and I see a plane hovering just over the courthouse. I am on the north side of the square, and now the west side, and as I drive, slowly, I watch this plane. I see the propeller(s — there are 2) stop, and the plane is suspended, midair, for a few seconds. I realize my camera is in the backseat, and I am glad because I know the plane is going to crash. I pull over in front of the (now-closed) Italian Gardens restaurant. The plane, in slow-motion, goes head-first into the ground and the cars parked along the northeast corner of the courthouse. I wake up before it explodes.

Before that ...

I am riding my bicycle along The Strip in Las Vegas. I look to my right and see my friend Jean and her husband, Willy, running toward the door of Burger King, which is on kind of an incline (odd, because Vegas is flat). Jean is wearing a wedding veil. I pull into the parking lot, get their attention, and we stand outside, talking and laughing. Willy hands me their digital camera and asks me to take a picture of them. I have all kinds of trouble with the zoom and the exposure. They get ready to go inside, but I hesitate because I have no way to lock my bike.

Next ...

I am standing in a large gymnasium, getting ready to watch the New York Knicks host the Georgetown Hoyas. I hear the names Patrick Ewing and John Williams (but it's supposed to be Thompson). I look around and begin counting the number of people (women, mainly) who are wearing shiny black leather jackets; there are several. My friend Judy walks up with a container full of brownies and caramel-coated somethings. People give us strange looks at first, but before long we are all eating the goodies. I eat an oversized brownie that keeps falling apart when I try to pick it up.

After that ...

I see Miranda, and she tells me she will be in Vegas at 5:15 p.m. I am back in Charleston, IL, talking to Garrick, and he is telling me all the reasons he would choose to stay alive and fight if he were to find out he had AIDS. He looks extremely good, and he is not infected. Kathy, the girl from the laundromat, sidles up and says she wants a slice of pizza. We convince Loyce, the woman from Pizza Shack, to pick it up for us. Loyce brings us a medium pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms and extra cheese, with the toppings haphazardly scattered about, and tells Kathy to cut off a slice and bring the rest of the pizza back inside. I cut a big slice for her and take most of the toppings off the left half of the pizza. I put the rest of the pizza back in the box and walk up the street where a black man with gray hair is collecting food. I hand him the pizza, which is now on one of those cardboard platters and has white paper over it. I look inside the paper and see one of my Grandma Ginny's Aunt Libby cookies. I grab it and eat it as I walk back down the street toward my house.

Inside the house ...

Miranda's mom is watching Another World. I consider asking her if I may go with her to see Miranda, but I figure she will say no, so I decide to ask her at the last minute. I am still eating the cookie, which is sweet and moist. I look out toward a stairway and see my friend Kara. My sister and I walk over to her, and she asks me about the cookie I am eating. I ask her if she still makes her oatmeal chocolate chip cool cookies, and she says, "No. They're not on Sandy's 'Recommended Recipes' list." (Sandy is her mom.)

Whew, doll!

: )

For the 2nd day in a row and the 3rd time this week, my hair is a wild, poofy, unruly mess when I awake. I laugh as I look at myself in the mirror.

: )

2003-11-22T22:27:00.000-06:00

Daily Beauty

Found this tonight in my kitchen, about an hour ago, actually, when I got home from a few hours spent with my best pal. This is the hibiscus from Grandma Ginny's funeral several months ago; this summer, it bloomed 3 or 4 bright-red flowers at a time, 8 to 10 inches wide, every other day, but now it blooms one flower at a time, smaller but no less vibrant. (This isn't a full bloom, either; it will be tomorrow when I awake. Looks a little pinkish here, also, and I can't quite get Photoshop tweaked just right, but ... it's red. And that's not a wine bottle in the background, either, but ... it could be. Actually, I think it's some kinda chili-infused vinegar stuff.)

Now playing: Indigo Girls. Can't remember the name of this CD, which is odd, considering I've listened to it now for the last 3 nights. I really dig their music.

: )