30 January 2008

To clarify

While I often assume everyone knows what I mean, I am often proved wrong, and so let me clarify:

that last post's title is a link to the song I can't stop singing.

My family had cable, and hence MTV, for a very brief time in the late 80s. Man oh man I love a good drum machine, dance song, whatever. It's formative; that's my excuse.

How is it so possible, over and over, for the littlest things to get me so down, so very very down? Life right now is not nearly so bad as it has been before; it is sunny today; I am reading Pattern Recognition by Gibson for the first time, and it's great. But weeks are slipping by. Hours. Blank and numb, blank and numb. The emotion I get lately is scared. More and more alien, too.

Let's get rid of that, huh? let's do.

29 January 2008



I'm losing my patience
I just came here to dance

28 January 2008

A few true things.

I am deathly afraid of scrapbooking. So many little pieces of paper. So many thick-with-glue pages. So much JUNK. AHHHHHH.

I am thankful for concerned friends, re: my big mistake at work. It's okay now, as okay as it can be in regards to me. That means no one is firing me. It also means we pay 4K to reprint a book that isn't going to sell much at all. Still lame, still me feeling lame, still my problem because no one is making me feel bad, but I do, I do.

I am far too easily annoyed by people. I am dehydrated. I am having a hard time with appetite, as in having one for food. The whites of my eyes have been red for two days, not itchy, and I'm not sure why. I think my tooth enamel is dying, I think I need to get some more sleep, I think I need to ... be better already.

Look at your pretty nails, little girl. Think about the mountains, think about the snow. Gonna be okay.

24 January 2008

working, working.

One of the books I worked on just got back from the printer ... with a typo in the subtitle on the front cover. Observe:

"Perfo mance"

It's kind of my fault, more like my department's fault. Lots of us do checks on these things. We all missed it, apparently.

My immediate responses:
1.) Really? Really? Wha?
2.) Am I going to be fired?
3.) (sick to stomach)
4.) I don't need to be upset about this. Hmm. Stopping the upset is harder work.

Five more hours? Yeah.

22 January 2008

And the Fed disappoints --

Okay, okay, I know the Fed dropping has no effect on loans I have already signed for. Sad news, but true news.

My two cats are sharing a piece of furniture again. Four months ago, I would not have believed this could be possible; they were wrestling and yowling every minute of every day. Now they snuggle, almost. V. cute.

Quilts, laptops, big LCD screens, and magic Microsoft ergonomic keyboards are calling me, along with freelance editing money, and so I go. Just wanted yall to know I know a thing about economics.

ZOMG the Fed dropped!

TO 3.5%! Go buy a house today! (I think it affects houses, anyway. Not so sure.)

I'm going to wait a few days and see if the folks I have loans with offer me better consolidation interest rates ... really, anything better than 7.8% sounds great.

See, when you have 60 - 70k in debt, and more debt on its way, and none of it is credit debt, mind you, you pay attention to interest rates. Like a hawk. I nearly swerved when I heard that on NPR this morning.

Also, hey Democratic presidential candidates, fighting is cute for a little while, like Hello Kitty merchandise -- and then it is so boring. I am learning nothing about Obama's plan of hope or Clinton's views of herself as a CEO. I am learning only that I like the way Obama argues better, and that it seems fishy when your former-president husband is campaigning for you. Yeah, spouses do campaign for each other all the time, but not everyone's spouse is a FORMER PRESIDENT.

And also, please watch A Daily Show streaming, like I do ... Jon, Jon, I can declare my love for you all day. Bush would ask 'Your Majesty' nicely for lower oil prices? Great. While selling arms to the most unstable region globally.

I still want nuclear disarmament for Christmas. Even for Groundhog's Day.

21 January 2008

when antibiotics fail

The nurse at the walk-in clinic that prescribed yet another round of Amoxicillin for me two weeks ago said, as she wrote the script, "If you don't feel completely better when these are done, call your doctor and tell her there was a failure."


That is so much more intense than I would have thought to describe this. The meds have FAILED. Of course, what will she do? I do not know. Usually I would be prescribed Augmentin at this point, for another two weeks, at which point I would get to call and say, "Those meds also FAILED." They are always failing me.

I have ideas, though: better allergy meds so my own body stops fighting me instead of this foreign invader; a referral to an ENT dude; a scan of my head ... My new insurance is so much better than my old insurance; I feel like taking full advantage of it.

I broke out the Vicks crud the other night. So gross, so gross. And so effective at helping me sleep and wake up a little more human.

Long ago, one reflective day, I was considering all the ills I get, and saw that they were all connected by overreaction. Migraines as an overreaction in my vascular system when either a new storm front rolls in, I wake up late, I maybe eat weird things, or life is terrible. Allergies as an overreaction to dust, which will not kill me like my body believes. Raynaud's as an overreaction to cold, kicking my capillaries into freaking out that cold air is here and we must contain all body heat and never let it go. Hypoglycemia, which still feels like the fakest thing ever, as a very real overreaction to dropping blood sugar levels.

Oh dear, oh dear body, please calm down. I'm doing what I can to help you out. "Body / my house / my horse my hound" ...

In all of this, I am a knitting genius. I know my gauge, thank you! I know how to measure things! I am very pleased with the adaptation of a pattern I'm doing, but will keep it under wraps for a little bit longer, until it is delivered to its intended host!

Very soon, I will start some lovely-sounding mittens, socks that may or may not kill my desire to knit socks (which I think I'll love doing), maybe a huge scarf for myself in bulky yarn, a hat for Noah with the leftover alpaca from his Fibonacci scarf ...

Sigh, being. Any recommendations on light boxes or full-spectrum bulbs? I need more sunshine, I can feel it.

16 January 2008

The Elliot Smith album you thought was dead has risen

Right now, being in my office (work office) is nice: well-lit by natural light only; growing plants that are indeed alive; and enough of my other stuff to feel like this is my space, namely a huge bag of jasmine green tea from Dave that is five years old, a plastic container with homemade granola inside, a tea bowl I made with Missouri clay that broke in the firing ... feeling okay in here probably also has much to do with being hydrated, full of medications and vitamins, and well-fed today.

Plants, plants. I used to travel with a small cactus. It was in a car accident with me on my way from Iowa to StL for my first Christmas home from college. It went to Wyoming with me, and it died there, which was sad, far more sad than other people would have felt it was, it if had been their cactus.

The aloe plant Andy gave me, a surprise when I got back to Iowa after Wyoming, that he'd grown in the greenhouse all summer, weighed 25 pounds, and survived on its own once for a month with no water. It did eat itself a bit in that time. Two years later I repotted it, three years after that I split it up into eleven pieces. I gave away all but one, and that one is now dead. Oh Andy. Oh aloes.

So now I only have a bo tree, happy in my sunny office, and a philadendron that the former tenants of our apartment left for us in a glass jar full of water. It stayed that way for a year, then I potted it, and now it is growing like crazy. Plants like soil, I guess? They do?

I don't remember how my mom ended up with this mother-in-law's tongue that my great-grandmother had been growing for thirty years in the same pot, but she did, and I took it to Iowa, and it started growing another plant in that same pot, all with no change in anything ... and died, eventually, of course. I remember one very bad day in Iowa, when my roommate was home for a month because she was also doing very badly, sitting around sobbing and thinking of everything being dead (it was winter) and looking at the plants and thinking, well, the plants are alive. The plants are breathing.

Someday I want to be posting about what I'm reading and writing, and what art I'm making, and how awesome things are. For now, I will tell you that while I am exactly as broke as I thought, I am no longer convinced I will only be able to afford 50 lbs. of dry beans and 50 lbs. of brown rice. I know my loans will be paid off someday. I know my doctor bills will be paid off soon. I know that money, at least, will not be the thing to run me over, not for now.

15 January 2008

What about the making?

Making to do:

1.) Write up Noah's Fibonacci scarf as a real pattern, submit to knitty.com, become famous overnight.

2.) Finish the mystery application for the mystery job. Shrouded in mystery. News to come.

3.) Buy a dye kit, buy some bare wool, dye some yarn already. Sheesh. How will I ever start a fiber company if I'm not even dealing with fiber?

4.) Consider investigating local ceramics classes again. Hearing unglazed stoneware lids brush unglazed stoneware rimmed openings still gives me the willies. Working in clay has to happen someday, maybe not this round of classes, but someday.

5.) At the very least, dig clay and get dirty.

6.) Condense sweaters, again, and sort by warmth this time. It's January, JANUARY, which means fooling around by wearing lightweight sweaters is just a bad idea. BAD.

Notes to add:

I'm not going vegan tomorrow. Goodness. Anti-veg sentiment is everywhere. But I don't think I can resist VEGANOMICON. Especially since it's referencing ARMY OF DARKNESS. And because Bruce Campbell ... well, there's really nothing to say except the man can pull off the pompadour he gets stuck with in so many roles lately.

Also, last weekend, while watching SUPERMAN 1 in a friend's parents' massive home theater set-up, I expressed my love for Willem Dafoe repeatedly, to the unabashed suspicion of fellow viewers. It is WILLEM, people. It's not a sexy thing, it's a Willem thing. Who else can be that dramatic? Bruce Campbell, Sean Connery, Bruce Willis (if you call it drama, I will) ... my elitism extends to what is cheesy enough to be called properly spectacular. Deal. And believe.

I think lightweight wool socks, inside my waterproof beautiful boots, are the way to go. Enough air to insulate. I'm rethinking insulation lately. Ideas? Down coats at work are not an option.

14 January 2008

Kids, get your calcium. Women our (general) age need 1600mgs daily, and the average multivitamin has 10% of that. 10%!

Apparently my hand muscles were twitching because I wasn't getting enough calcium. Now, more calcium, less twitching.

Are your cilia moving fast enough? Are you getting air down to the lower lobes of your lungs, not just the top in shallow anxious breaths? Are you full of candida, like me?

And are you broke like me, and kind of daft about money's details, so you go to Carle Clinic multiple times and then later find out the CLINIC has no community care discount, only the HOSPITAL at which you are not a patient does?

Well, I just bought new soap anyway. I'll be a broke, sweet-smelling lady.

Anyone want to eat Potato Kale Enchiladas with me?

04 January 2008

on the Quil and nothin' shakin'

I thought eight hours of sleep was the wonder cure.

Wonder cure, where are you?

I'm back to trying what I know: Grateful Dead tshirts, fleece hoodies in a good winey color, smartwool socks, super orange pills.

First problem with the Quil today: it's not helping fast enough. I'm in migraine danger here; come on, decongestant, come on. Second problem: the crashing in four hours, the returning to snotville and all that.

So far I'm promising myself a trip home and working from home in two hours.

01 January 2008

1) sickness; 2) old year; 3) new year


We are in Illinois, and goodness is there snow and wind and my very cold toes. And guess what -- I'm sick again. Though I am usually ill with something, that 'something' is usually allergies that entail congestion, inflamed sinuses, postnasal drip, burny eyes, sour stomach, maybe a headache. So it sucks, sure, but it's low-level nasty. Then there's REAL nasty, which is when my snot is not only green but also bloody and chunky, and I can't get my symptoms to calm down no matter the drugs, and I start thinking, could I have nasal polyps? Could I have a fungal infection in my sinuses? Could chronic stress (it's easing down now) contribute to my always-sickness? Why do I get every cold on the planet?

I do crab about this a lot; friends, forgive me.

I vow to:
-- do a nasal wash everyday, even on days when I'm all "bleh, saline in my nose?"
-- take my allergy meds everyday forever
-- be smarter about dust and mold; they are a big deal, and if that means a ton of laundry, or bleach, and vacuuming, it's worth it
-- consider eating illness-fighting foods consistently, rather than just feeding my stomach bread and more bread products to fight nausea
-- keep up with the tiny bit of exercise I grudgingly do
-- meditate? I hear meditating is good. But I also hear that it keeps sickness in your body if you're sick. No meditating, I guess. My breath will have to go on being without mindfulness.



2007 sucked. From start to finish. All bad. Maybe one or two good days. But dear lord, bad. Observe:

January: I apply to grad school again and doing so makes me break out in hives overnight; visit a friend and get attacked by her cat; the weekend of the attack, miss receiving an email from grad school saying "your application is incomplete and we're not considering it"

February: um, it was cold? I bet it was cold.

March: in this town, still cold; really weird department politics/confrontations/issues; work on my thesis like a madwoman; develop a strange affinity/obsession for PRISON BREAK and watch two seasons from bed, crying a little the whole time

April: I give my thesis reading; I begin to wonder why I haven't heard anything about grad school

May: hear back from grad school, and after several weeks of even more departmental drama and 10am urges for bourbon, realize I am graduating in two weeks and I have no future employment; officially freak out.

June: go to NYC with my aunts; apply for jobs; start interviews; turn 24. I still think I'm 22, not in some youthful-leaning way, more a 'where the hell did those two years go' way.

July: get hired in an office; start getting a little bit better; use the ice cream maker from my friends a LOT.

August: family drama begins

September: and continues

October: and culminates in heart-breakingly sad ways. Notice that maybe while I was going to work during this time, I have no clue about what else was happening in the world. I went to the farmer's market some weeks and then would forget all the produce and throw it all away. V. sad, for the produce. And the family.

November: knit a million Christmas presents; have grand plans for December holiday times; not so eventful.

December: Noah turns 24; Noah's mom dies; Hannukah and Christmas happen and somehow, we were in Saint Louis for a total of two weeks out of six ... we haven't spent that much time there in a long time, and STL started feeling home-like again. And so did the drive. Also, we realize how broke we are (scary, being even more broke than you thought, even when you knew you were broke and were acting broke already) and freak out a little. I start looking for a new job, or at least thinking of ways to make more money.

Phew. Glad it's over.



New year = new food.

Somewhat firm goals:
bake all our bread, or most of it
try to get one of those farmers' produce that they deliver to you things
eat awesome food that I love all the time
be balanced
drink only when I want to, and only what I really want, with no settling.

Dudes, what about you?