I despise that I adore you

1. What inspires you to blog?
   sometimes it's a random thought or experience; sometimes it's a book or music. Sometimes it's a conversation with a friend. Sometimes I have to force myself to sit down and churn out readable words. This has been going on for far too long to ascribe it to one source of 'inspiration.'
2. What’s the best thing about blogging, for you?
   the joy is in the playing.
   
3. What is your favourite book of all time?
   need you ask? The Brothers K, by David James Duncan. The Girl She Used to Be, by David Cristofano, is a close second.
4. It’s 9pm and for some reason you’ve been hungry all day, despite the three square meals. What do you rustle up?
   cold cereal. That happens probably 3x per week.
5. Who are three of your style icons?
   in the ideal world: Leon, Lauren Hutton, and Ziva David.
6. What’s your current favourite song/piece of music?
   
   
   
   "Hate that I Love You" by Rihanna feat. Ne-Yo.
   
   "no one in this world knows me the way you know me
   
   so you'll probably always have a spell on me..."
7. What is the last book you read?
   A Clash of Kings by George R.R. Martin. I'm rather shocked by how much I love these books.
8. What is your current favourite recipe?
   I make a pretty good lasagna.
9. Who or what first inspired you to set up your own blog?
   The Cat, and she who shall not be named.
10. What object could you not live without?
    I don't think that there is an object that I can't live without. It's just not like that. I like my iPod a lot. I use my phone pretty often. I love my journals. I don't like to be without a good book. But "live without"? Bah.
11. Where do you see yourself in ten years?
    God knows.
12. Who or what made you into the person you are today?
    bgm. Fluffy. Ulysses. the Cat. Michael. Heidi. Pete. Kim. The other Pete. Rob. The girls. Andrew. The Eric[k]s. The other Andy. Seymour. The other Rob. The insane Mormon. Emerald Man. Emily. T.O. Blake. The other Dan.
    But mostly me. Just me.
13. What have your learned from blogging?
    that nothing is sacred except the process.
14. Knowing what you know now, what knowledge would you pass on to your past self?
    do it. It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission.
15. Sunday roasts - lunchtime or evening meal?
    OK, yes, definitely. Bring it on. There is almost nothing better than roast beast.
16. What has been your best blogging-related experience so far?
    oh, that would be falling in love--with someone who'd fallen in love with me.

[from The Cat (almost a year ago), who got it here]

did you originally kiss me to quell the dread rising in your head like carbonation?

What's the best way to live
without flinching every minute?
How can you lull yourself to sleep
when the laser disc symphony
isn't music to your ears
because tonight you want
not quicksilver but growls
and hisses? Think of vultures,
hippos, frilled lizards--
the noises they make, or silent
viruses doing aerobics under
microscopes. How does anything
begin? Did you originally kiss
me to quell the dread rising
in your head like carbonation?
"Tiny blades of grass point
skyward with forlorn authority,
toward He that sowed them."
I can't believe that either. Try to
be brave anyway. If the Titanic's
salvageable, then maybe today's
travails will leave a romantic
aftertaste, or provide a roller
coaster of desirable side effects
like all the best modern medicines.

[Amy Gerstler, 'Pillow Talk', from Bitter Angel]

storms never last

1. The weather’s just too hot for you and you decide to escape for a week to somewhere cooler: what’s the first place you’d think of?
   depends on the time of year, I suppose, and whether this is reality or fantasy. It's almost always literally cooler at the Cat/Beast's. It's usually freezing at my parents'...during the winter. I've yet to discover what my new place is like during the cold weather months. We shall see, eh?
2. Months later, the weather’s now too cold for you and you decide to escape for a week to somewhere warmer: what’s the first place you’d think of?
   Miami, of course!
3. Severe weather is moving your way. Which are you more likely to turn to first to get information on the storm: your radio, your television or the Web?
   my phone: Sleek!
4. You find yourself sitting on a screened-in porch during a strong thunderstorm: do you find this relaxing or terrifying?
   as long as there aren't strong winds, it'll be relaxing. Wind freaks me the [bleep] out.
5. What is your thermostat set to right now?
   it's not. I'm in that blissful range where nothing's running. Not sure how long it can last (it's pretty damned cool in the morning) but I'm going to tough it out for as long as possible, because once the heat's on, it's on for good.
6. How high do you set it at the coldest part of winter?
   I switch it around a lot. I'd be happiest with one of those incredibly fancy programmable thermostats with zone controls and timers down to the hour. The apt over SWC had a basic programmable, so I had a weekday setting and a weekend setting. Here, it's on or off. I'd taken to just turning the AC on when I was home (or setting the temp so high that it wouldn't kick in until I was heading toward bed).
   This is the long way of saying that I like it very cool (borderline cold) when I'm sleeping, relatively cool during the day, and warm when I'm getting ready for bed. I HATE having super-cold feet, hate a cold bathroom floor, hate a cold tub or a cold bed. As long as I can work around that, I'll be fine.

[from The Cat, who got it here; the title quotation is an unattributed aphorism, and ends, "You walk out the other side and wonder what it was that made you so crazy.”]

easy happiness mixed with pain and loss

We are not one with this world. We are not
the complexity our body is, nor the summer air
idling in the big maple without purpose.
We are a shape the wind makes in these leaves
as it passes through. We are not the wood
any more than the fire, but the heat which is a marriage
between the two. We are certainly not the lake
nor the fish in it, but the something that is
pleased by them. We are the stillness when
a mighty Mediterranean noon subtracts even the voices
of insects by the broken farmhouse. We are evident
when the orchestra plays, and yet are not part
of the strings or brass. Like the song that exists
only in the singing, and is not the singer.
God does not live among the church bells,
but is briefly resident there. We are occasional
like that. A lifetime of easy happiness mixed
with pain and loss, trying always to name and hold
on to the enterprise under way in our chest.
Reality is not what we marry as a feeling. It is what
walks up the dirt path, through the excessive heat
and giant sky, the sea stretching away.
He continues past the nunnery to the old villa
where he will sit on the terrace with her, their sides
touching. In the quiet that is the music of that place,
which is the difference between silence and windlessness.

[Jack Gilbert, 'Music Is in the Piano Only When It Is Played', from The Art of Losing: Poems of Grief and Healing, Kevin Young, ed.]

for a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free

1. It's September, a.k.a. National Coupon Month. Do you ever use coupons when you go shopping?
   now and then. I'm not a freak about it, but neither am I self-conscious or self-righteous about not doing it.
2. What topics do you usually think about on your drive home from work?
   what to eat, what to read, what to watch. What I 'should' do - as opposed to what I will do.
3. According to the calendar on my wall, it's still June because I never changed it to July or to August. Do you still use traditional calendars (or daily planners) or have you digitized your life into some sort of digital-based calendar?
   I have a wall calendar in the dining room that organizes my life in a general way (reminders of bills that I pay electronically, prompts to use a new set of contacts [I use monthly-wears] or to feed the plants, that sort of thing. I use a Moleskine appointment book for specific day-to-day stuff. And I very, very rarely set appointments on my phone.
4. What do you hope is in your "welcome basket" when you get to Heaven (assuming you'll be going to Heaven *** insert evil laugh ***)?
   fresh raspberry white-chocolate scones; a selection of Republic of Tea; good writing paper and a nice Montblanc pen; strong, light, comfortable sunglasses [I'm expecting it to be very bright up there]; and some non-greasy hand cream
5. August 31 is National Trail Mix Day. If you were to create your own type of trail mix, what would be included in it?
   Peanut M&Ms, some Swiss chocolate drops that look like kisses but are a million times better, and chunks of real bacon
6. August 31 is also Eat Outside Day. Do you enjoy going on outdoor picnics?
   I really, really dislike eating outside. Bugs, tree parts, random people...yuck. I really only like to eat under controlled circumstances.
7. Do you have a specific way to load your dishwasher? If so, if someone else loads it for you and does it a different way, do you get upset?
   life is too short.... I put the dishes in, and run the thing. If they get clean, I'm happy.
8. If there were four specific words written on your heart, what would they say?
   
   grace, clarity, insight, wisdom
9. If you could add an 11th Commandment, what would it be?
   'You have the right to remain silent.'
10. Which of your five senses normally evokes the strongest memories in you?
    sight

[from The Cat, who got it here; the title quotation is by Wendell Berry, from 'The Peace of Wild Things', and in its entirety reads: "I come into the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.... For a time I rest in the grace of the world, and am free."]

one of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important

    The last couple of days have been surprisingly rough. I've had a migraine; there's been extra stuff going on socially (much of which is odd, unexpected, and either potentially amazing or heartbreaking, depending); I'm sorting out some internal things (my feelings after finding out that someone I've known since we were teens, but who I haven't talked to in literally half a lifetime, is reading the blog, for instance); neverending financial roller-coaster; and work is far more stressful than usual.

    There is an entry-level position open in the area over which I am nominally in charge. It was posted with very specific instructions for applying, and the deadline was 9:00 this evening. 

    People don't seem terribly capable of following very simple, direct instructions. "Pick up an application at the second floor service area." Where do they go? To the first floor area. Or the second floor supplemental area. Or they call on the telephone. Or they email me - and how exactly do they get my email, when it was specifically, deliberately not included on the posting? - with their resume only. Here is one reason that one is asked, for an entry-level position, to complete an application form: so that each person's data can be compared as simply and easily as possible. Why should your potential employer have to sort through your resume to find what they've asked for on a form?! If I wanted a resume, I would ask for one. I did not.     

     One more thing: if the "Position applying for: _____" blank is left empty, you will not be hired. That is the end of that version of the story. I don't care if you are the best applicant on the planet; if you can't fill in that blank, you don't get a job.

    So, can you imagine how I'm going to spend the next few days? That's right: I'm going to sort applications. When I left this evening, there were 37. Adding the one that I just received by email (well, that's just a resume, so I can safely disregard it), that's 38, pending discovery of more tomorrow morning. For ten hours per week. The job pays nothing.  The thought of what there is to choose from...makes me seriously consider staying home for the next week or two. Avoidance is very appealing.

     And the weirdest thing? Tomorrow night I'm supposed to go to a bar (Ulysses' favorite, ironically) with a friend, to 'strategically meet' a supermodel's (much younger) former stepfather. Faking sick sounds better with each paragraph....

[title quotation by Bertrand Russell]

Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does.

    Our long, international nightmare is over.
     OK, maybe that's a slight overstatement. How about this: my personal drama - the landlord/tenant version - has been resolved, mostly in my favor. Yes, that's right, the slumlords finally found someone to settle in at Chez Rat Hole. They've repaid my security deposit, minus a rather hefty sum for "expenses" related to the re-letting; I'm not quibbling since I got more than half back, which is still 100% more than I'd really expected. And they didn't even come close to really trying to sue me for the remainder of the amount that I owed them under the lease ($8800). The check's been cashed. Once it's cleared, I'll be completely copacetic. Overall, a win.
     And it's due, as much as anything I did, to the help I received from a certain dashing and talented attorney. If it was primarily in the form of talking me off the ledge and making droll comments, so be it. We each of us have our own strengths, and I'm grateful.
     And I'm free!

[title quotation by William James]

if you're not prepared to look stupid, nothing great is ever gonna happen

    I haven't felt like writing much lately. The Photo Challenge took a lot out of me, both literally and emotionally; it was a surprisingly large amount of work to actually come up with three potential responses to some of those prompts, much less to actually locate the photographs (and to determine whether they were printed, scanned, or digital), and then to either pre-post into Blogger or save for easy uploading into Facebook each day. Some of it really was pretty easy, but many of those days required "answers" that were tough to reveal, or to explain, or to keep in perspective. By the end of August, I was heartily tired of the whole thing and just wanted a few days to reacquaint myself with solitude and privacy.

    Now I'm back, sort of, feeling a little more connected with the outside world, but still pretty introspective. Ulysses (a.k.a. the beautiful liar) has floated back into my consciousness, though for relatively similar borderline-nefarious purposes. Even if you're not a country fan, listen to the lyrics of this song [Toby Keith, "Hurt a Lot Worse When You Go"] and you'll understand where my brain is on this. Sort of. Some of the time.
    Also reading my first fantasy novel. Yes, you read that right: I've never read anything in the entire Fantasy genre before now. I'm a little over 500 pages into the 800+ page A Game of Thrones, by George R.R. Martin, and I can't believe how much I like it. I can't stand to put it down. I've done very little over the past few days except read, eat and sleep. And I'm dreaming about it. And thinking about it when I'm not reading.

    I don't know if it's the book, or the holiday, or the completely ridiculous frequency (and intensity) of headaches I've had over the past week or two, or the change in the weather, or this thing with U., but I feel...uneasy. Unsettled. Uncomfortable. Wrong. Twitchy, itchy, and anxious. Awkward. Indisposed. Awry. Whatever it is - if it is an it, and not just a way, for now or forever - it doesn't feel right, and I can't figure out how to make it that way. For now, I'm just trying to ride it out.

[the title quotation is from a season 2 episode of House, M.D., featuring Howard Hesseman. Johnny Fever is 71 years old, for the love of God.]