Giving Spirit List

I’ve had a million witty tidbits just sparking in my brain today. Perhaps because I’m too busy to actually sit down and write?

Well, that’s a lie. I always have time to write. If I say I don’t, there’s something out there that I don’t want to admit and I know the minute I start writing it will sit on my page until I’ve acknowledged it.

I have been writing a lot of lists today. I’m in heaven. I have five I could share, so be thankful I’m restraining myself.

My giving spirit has included of late:

1) Lunch for three.

2) 3 pumpkin pies (2 for a potluck I’m attending, one for a friend to bring to his).

3) A fairly large loan to struggling friends.

4) Advice to not wear a dress on a first date (to a guy).

5) Dinner for five.

6) A dollar in the first Salvation Army Bell-Ringer pot that I’ve seen.

7) A promise of paying for a resume-builder.

8) A spiced eggnog latte.

9) An invitation to lunch for my current and former bosses.

10) The promise to feed a sick animal so someone else can sleep in.

11) An email (see above post)

I’ll write more later. I’m not ignoring an issue. I swear. It’s ignoring me.

No Good Answers

Oh, so you’re having one of *those* nights, are you? You’re tired and cranky and you’d love to whine to someone except you’re worried that if they suggested you relax, you just might beat them.

You are beyond relax. You need a coma.

So why are you still up? Why aren’t you showered? Why aren’t you snuggled in those sheets that are better than sex?

And while we’re asking questions, why don’t you have any clean socks?

First Mention of the Sanctuary

Well, about 4 hours into my day I stopped caring about my job again. It was bound to happen.

I’m 14,000 words away from “winning” NaNoWriMo and I stopped caring for my novel about 10,000 words ago. This will change. I will finish, then begin editing and fall in love with the beginning again. I just hope I find the plot along the way.

I didn’t care about volunteering until I did it this evening. Driving there, I thought about how I was sick of not putting myself first, refusing myself the freedom to actually have a life. I had been away for two weeks. An animal had died. Instead of there being six of us to do evening chores, there were three. One trainee, the manager, and myself. Driving home in the dark, I felt like the reason I woke up this morning was to live those 2 hours.

Can I get a witness?

I’ve tried to post a few times today, but everything in my head is sad and unfinished.

Good things about today:

1) Hanging out with friends

2) Spiced eggnog latte

3) Catnip

Bad things about today:

1) Finding out it’s not likely I’ll have my maiden name back by Christmas.

2) Laundry did not do itself.

3) New neighbors hammering at 2am.

Walking through a bookstore today, I saw a book who’s main character has just had several horrible things (lost job, boyfriend left) occur in her life and then she gets amnesia. She realizes she has this wonderful clean slate and she can do whatever she wants.

I ran up to a friend, “I want amnesia!”

“What?!”

“I want to start over, clean slate.”

“Yeah, but it would suck when your memory came back.”

“No. It’s not coming back. I want to go away and start over.”

“Oh. You want a witness relocation plan for your brain!”

Sign me up baby. And while we’re at it, could these 10 lbs. that came out of no where be relocated too?

Flying Solo

I can’t decide if I like to fly or not.

I used to be very scared of it. But, like many of my fears, I feel comical about it. I’ll shake my head furiously and my eyes will get very big as the conversation turns to planes, frogs, or love.

But do I really mean it? Am I really scared? I certainly was scared on the prop plane I flew to the wedding. But on the way back, melancholy and cold, I fell asleep despite the cramped space and deafening roar.

Flying at night is beautiful. I love to see the lights of the cities. I imagine jewels laid out on black velvet. It’s comforting and exotic at the same time.

On the last leg of the flight home, I pulled a pewter statue out of my coat pocket (all the business men in first class weren’t very receptive to a woman wearing a motorcycle jacket sitting in their midst. It was classic) and cried.

I didn’t mean to. I just looked at the statue, rubbed it over and over with my thumb, and tears fell out. I don’t know if anyone noticed. I didn’t look around to check.

I cried because deep inside I know I have an amazing connection to someone. I’ve been ignoring that fact, skirting around it. I put away the journals that describe our recent visits with each other. I hid the pictures. I built up logic around me. I confided details to friends who would shake their heads and say I deserved better, he shouldn’t have reacted that way, he needs to figure things out, I need some time to myself…

I have a great list of reasons to put him out of my mind. But sitting there in first class, darkness everywhere except the pool of reading light which illuminated my hands caressing that statue, I allowed myself to remember that I can’t put him out of my heart.

Software Engingeering Isn’t All Bad

Who knew it is was possible for you to have a good day?

Not that everything went well. Not that you felt you were spectacular. But you got up in time, pushed some of the right buttons, gave some good explanations, had answers, asked some good questions, made some good jokes, and taught someone something that they were interested to learn.

That’s pretty cool.

The one day a lunch break is actually called, we had lunch ordered in. No way were we letting what happened yesterday occur – a harried run at 2:30 to the sub shop.

We had Chinese food. There were two fortune cookies left on the table as we were packing up. I grabbed them and put them in my jacket.

Two fortunes:

1) Your exotic ideas lead you to many exciting, new adventures!

2) In order to take, one must first give.

Pretty cool day indeed.

Dear Neighbors

Dear new downstairs neighbors,

I apologize for everything up front.

Yes, 7am is the latest I ever sleep. If you have ideas on how to rectify that, please drop them in the suggestion box.

No, I don’t have Great Danes galloping through here. It’s just a cat. A 20 lbs. cat. Yes, he’s on a diet.

Yes, that was water dripping onto your front step. I am horrible at caring for my plants. Drought or drown is my method. You seem to have lots of green things on your patio. May I steal one when mine dies?

No, Trick Pony is not just a phase I’m going through. Wait until I have a really bad night and put “Secret Garden” on repeat 53 times. You have my permission to come knocking and inform me that although it’s not too loud, it’s just too damn annoying. I’ll agree wholeheartedly, I just won’t be able to make myself stop without interference.

You’ll still appreciate that more than when I have a really good night. All bets are off on a good night.

Yours, J

Spooning the faucet in a non dirty way of course

I had an absolutely wonderful evening with friends last night which included spending some time curled up in their kitchen sink.

One friend was making rice crispie treats, one was playing on the computer. The RCT friend exclaimed, on finding me spooning the faucet, “I love having you over, you’re so low-maintenance!”

I burst into laughter.

“OK, ” RCT amended, “You’re a low-maintenance friend.”

You have to start somewhere, right?

NaLiWriMo?

Thing I have learned so far from NaNoWriMo:

1) I do not spell toilet correctly.

2) I can’t blame the cat for my word count.

3) I can be exceedingly dull and trite at times.

4) It’s fun to let characters write themselves.

5) It’s difficult to make them do what you want.

6) Name changes aside, I need a whole lot of editing before certain people can read my novel.

7) I smirk calling it a “novel”.

8) I’d rather have written a comedy.

9) Not that it won’t make you laugh.

10) I cannot simply make the MCs passion painting, instead of writing, to make her not be me.

11) Giving her short black hair helps a little.

12) I need to schedule more massages.

13) After 2 hours and only 200 words, I am not fit to go out in public.

14) I can be incredibly gifted at times.

(You’re just going to have to take my word on it)

Only In My Dreams

I had two disturbingly vivid dreams last night.

The second one made me think I needed to call someone as soon as I woke up. It took several layers of thought to re-discover reality. The clock radio from my parent’s kitchen is stuck in my mind right now and is making me very homesick. In my dream, the radio played a song that I have been hearing a lot lately and feeling it’s a sign. I heard it through the window as I sat on our air conditioner, smoking.

In the first dream I was been reprimanded for what amounted to sexual harassment at work. Among the complaints against me was, “You should really wear panties with those ripped nylons.”

My retort? “I was wearing panties with those ripped nylons.”

Even in my dreams, I am a fashion goddess.