in defense of lethargy

• I did nothing this weekend. No shopping beyond the bare minimum (groceries), no random drives to nowhere, no major blog shiftaroonies. Nothing. Hell: I only took one shower in 48 hours. It was a non-weekend-weekend.
• There is a stack of CDs on my desk, waiting to be filed back into their proper spots in the CD racks. (I have, um, four.) I just noticed what a weird mix of stuff I've been listening to lately:
  ~ Staind, Chapter V
  ~ The Drifters, The Drifters Collection
  ~ "All James" (a mix of songs by the band James, created by me)
  ~ Toby Keith, Big Dog Daddy
  ~ Maroon 5, It Won't Be Soon Before Long
  ~ "Adelheide Rock" (a mix of songs created by my friend Adelheide)
  ~ Sugar Ray, 14:59
  ~ Death Cab for Cutie, Plans
  ~ Pablo Casals, J.S. Bach Suites for Cello Vol. 2
• The Cat and I have been yapping about getting together "to go shopping" for quite a while. We need to do it soon, if for no other reason than so that we can trade the heaps of stuff that we've accumulated for each other during various IM and email torrents. Very frequently, I'll mention, "Do you happen to have a ___?" and she'll say, "Yeah, don't buy one!" Or I'll say, "Hey, I found an extra ___. Do you want it?" And she'll squeal, all girly-like, "Oooh, yes!" Now that we don't have convenient monthly meetings at which to exchange these items, they pile up. My dining room table has a very odd heap of Cat goods on it. Makes me wonder where the Gerb goods reside?
• There was a pontoon boat in the parking lot of my apartment building this weekend. It took me an astoundingly long time to realize that it was For Sale. Apparently $3200 will buy a honkin' big pontoon boat these days. Who knew?
• In other photographic news, the plants are reproducing again. The teardrop peperomia has little curly leaves all over the place: The aloe has a bunch of new light green spikes: and Ziggy has one [relatively] big sprout (it ganks off to the left, in the upper-left corner of the photo) and a bunch of tiny ones that are just starting to show:
• I've really got to find something other than the damned plants (and the parking lot!!!) to take pictures of. I'm turning into some kind of...freak. Luckily, the lovely, take-charge Heidi is swooping in before long, to grab me by the hand and shake things up a bit. Mid-July, we will head to parts unknown for a little R&R, some moments of grace, boatloads of talking, lots of photography, and, no doubt, an adventure (or three). Much-needed.
• Finally, an obtusely confidential congratulations to an unnamed someone, on five years of living with integrity and determination with regards to one aspect of life. Consider this a vote in favor of applying that principle to the rest of it.

just 'cause somebody said I like 'em

Yesterday one of my friends said, "You like quizzes, don't you." It wasn't a question. Yes, I do. Mostly because I like answers, especially at times like this when I cannot find my own.

Your True Sign Is Scorpio

Fiery Powerful Ambitious Mysterious Easily Obsessed Full of Charisma Universally Attractive Possessive and Passionate

What Sign Woman Are You, Really?

You are Barefoot!

You're a total free spirit, go with the flow girl You can't be restricted by shoes for very long And unsuprisingly, the same goes for men Your match is out there - and he's as carefree as you are

What Kind Of Women's Shoe Are You?

Your Anti Climactic Fortune

Deep into your future, I foresee: A goal you'll never reach

The Anti Climactic Fortune Teller

just another average Friday morning

    My repeated attempts to verify ownership of the site have failed (don't ask me why) so the cached data will exist in the search engines until the next time they crawl the blog. It's supposed to be 4 or 5 days at the most, but you can bet I will be checking it periodically.
    I woke early this morning because there was a machine running outside my west windows that was slightly louder than my conscious brain could filter out. Now that I'm really awake, I realize it must have been the brick saw--the masonry company has arrived to lay the [interior] cinder-blocks and [exterior] bricks on the new building. They're hauling ass, too, since it looks like it could start raining at any moment.
    The new SWC guy, who isn't really new anymore since 3 more have been hired since he started, got to work a few minutes ago. I have reason to believe his name is 'Mike'. Part of his job is to get the trucks ready (i.e. filled with supplies) before the rest of the guys arrive to start delivering. It must be extra complicated now that he has to arrange it all around the pickups and construction equipment and supplies that are all over the parking lot. This is Mike (and examples of 'surveillance' photos, as mentioned yesterday in comments--taken sort of accidentally under a different context):
Time to get in the shower, if I plan on doing so while there is any water available at all. (I am, after all, sharing with the concrete mixer. And the brick saw, I'd guess.)

massive changes

As part of my ongoing effort to pack my brain full of minutia that I will likely never, ever use again, I have (since arriving home from work after a nearly 9-hour day) taught myself the intricacies of robot.txt files and meta noindex tags, and then completely updated the blog template to include both. This should (when followed up with use of the URL Removal Request Tool on the major search engines) make the current blog unsearchable and delete all cached data from the search engines' logs. At that point, I will be free and clear (relatively speaking) from the prying eyes of the trouble that started this all in motion in the first place.

And to set it in motion, I need to post something. So, here I am.

Tonight's dinner is the leftover second half of last night's dinner, Canadian bacon pizza from World Famous. I am rather disgusted to admit that there will be no exciting stories to relate about the glorious Chuck, the delivery guy. After the third interaction in a row prior to which I thought, "This time I'll say something witty and charming, and show him how amazing I am..." and indeed after the third interaction in a row where I did nothing more than blush, stammer and overtip, I'm done. The task is clearly too onerous for me. I am not built for such stern stuff.

Good pizza, though.

Time to set up the removal tools. The work of the paranoid is never done.

the big mystery

So. Now that we're all here, what do we want to talk about?

[One teeny bit of administrative detail: if you know of anyone who wants to read but is unable to login, send a message or leave a comment and I will send an invitation--or not (but in that case I'll explain).]

this one struck me funny.

(Swiped from The Cat, who swiped from Janet)

My roommate and I once: built The World's Best Pizza, with the help of a very drunken friend, while we all consumed an unreal number of Mickey's Big Mouths and a bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa (we were hungry! making pizza is hard work!). The pizza was so heaped with toppings that it took forever to bake, but it was totally worth it. Best damned pizza ever.
    (She wasn't really my roommate, but she was at the house so often that she could as well have been. Thank God for her. Him, too, but especially for her.)
Never in my life have I: missed someone as much as I do now.
High school was: painfully memorable. Or memorably painful, depending on how you look at it.
When I am nervous: my eyelid twitches.
My hair: does whatever it wants to these days. It seems to have a mind of its own. Some days, I have froofy beauty pageant hair. Some days, I have stylish limp straw. (Today it was wild and wavy.)
When I was 5: I celebrated my birthday and trembled through my first day of school on the same day.
By this time next year: I will be just over a year away from paying off my student loans.
My favorite aunt is: just a person. Fallible like everyone else.
I have a hard time understanding: insensitivity, and disregard for integrity.
You know I like you if: I tell you, in words or deeds. I'm no good at keeping that sort of secret.
My ideal breakfast is: blueberry pancakes, bacon, iced tea, and thee.
If you visit my hometown: you may never want to leave.
If you spend the night at my house: then we're really good friends, because it's an exclusive lodging.
My favorite blond is: whatever my favorite mixologist, Lori, creates at the moment. Our next meeting is Friday.
My favorite brunette is: Nick.
The animal I would like to see flying is: pigs.
I shouldn't have been: so quick to ask for the keys, and I shouldn't have been so slow to ask for what I needed.
Last night: I stopped reading the book that's had my attention for two weeks, because I couldn't stand the thought of it ending. There are only a couple of pages left. Maybe tomorrow.
I've been told I look like: Drew Barrymore, Helen Hunt, Susan Sarandon, or "a [devilish] librarian."
If I could have any car it would be: a Jaguar XKR convertible in 'Lunar Gray' with Slate Blue/Ivory Interior (with Aluminum trim)--approximate MSRP with options, $100,075.

eight more cups for the lab

The Cat tagged me. If tagged, and you accept, these are the rules:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
4. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don't forget to leave them a comment telling them they're tagged, and to read your blog.

Here are my eight random items for my owner's manual:

1. I haven't eaten bacon in more than a month.
2. Perhaps not coincidentally, I have lost around 10 lb. in the past 5 weeks.
3. I learned something astounding yesterday. I am not fat. For quite a while, I have carried around the assumption that I was, and that the people who told me that I am not were either being kind but misleading for some emotional purpose or were flat-out lying in order to deceive. Either way, I didn't believe them, and I had sort of ungraciously "accepted" my unacceptability. I was at The Gap yesterday, moodily browsing (see below), when it first hit me: I am not so different from everybody else. The women that I thought were better proportioned? They were looking for the same sizes that I was. It was revolutionary. I suppose that it shouldn't have been, and that this is only evidence of my profound (and perverse) ego, but it shook me. The notion followed me from store to store, and the resulting tremors are still with me. Who'd've thought it?
4. I change my toenail polish every three days. It has been Creative Nail Design "Burgundy Foil" for the last round. As of this evening it is OPI "Lincoln Park After Dark."
5. If you read this blog through a feed, you may have noticed over the last few days that a number of items have been re-posted. I'm cleaning up some privacy issues (it's on everybody's mind right now, I guess!) and adding some labels where I felt the urge. This will go on for a while, as time permits, so either ignore or enjoy the blasts from the past.
6. One of my very favorite memories is walking my former spouse's cousin's beagle at family gatherings. I'm not such a "dog person" but that was an unmitigated joy.
7. I'm going on an anti-swearing campaign. The habit is becoming quite unreasonable at times. And it's all personal: if I swear at work (trust me, it happens more than I'd care to admit) I'll put a quarter in a jar. If I say a derivation of the word "fuck," I'll put in 50 cents. The sad part is that there's a home component: if I swear when I'm alone (at home or in the car) (le sigh) the cost is double--per offense. The only penalty-free zone is the blog. Consider yourselves warned!
   Oh, and I haven't quite decided what to do with the money. I'm thinking that if I go "donation free" for a week, I get it back. Seem fair?
8. You have to know that something's just not right in your life when happy people make you either sad or angry. I'm not talking about those perky people who don't seem to let anything get them down; pretty much everybody wants to slap the smile off their faces once in a while. But I am at a point where multi-sex laughing gangs of preteens on bike rides, or men snuffling their babies, or couples sneaking kisses in The Gap, make me want to:
   
   • hurl;
   • cry; or
   • punch the living daylights out of them.
   This is not functional behavior. This is the sort of thing that makes an otherwise-sane person seek out solitary activities, for her own safety and the safety of others.

[I'm supposed to tag eight people at this point. In all honesty, I just don't feel like it. The majority of people that I would've tagged have already been so marked, and any others that I might mention would likely decline (if they would respond at all). How's this: if you read this and have the desire to do this little survey of yourself, then you should consider yourself tagged. You should even leave a comment here and prehaps I'll go back and edit out this last paragraph to appear more like a team player. Fair enough?]

just when I think I'm through...

I never knew perfection 'til
I heard you speak, and now it kills me
Just to hear you say the simple things
Now waking up is hard to do
And sleeping's impossible too
Everything is reminding me of you
What can I do?

It's not right, not OK
Say the words that you say
Maybe we're better off this way
I'm not fine, I'm in pain
It's harder every day
Maybe we're better off this way
It's better that we break

A fool to let you slip away
I chase you just to hear you say
You're scared and that you think that I'm insane
The city looks so nice from here
Pity I can't see it clearly
While you're standing there, it disappears
It disappears...

Saw you sitting all alone
You're fragile and you're cold
But that's all right
Life these days is getting rough
They've knocked you down and beat you up
But it's just a roller-coaster anyway...
["Better That We Break" by Maroon 5, from It Won't Be Soon Before Long]

to one who knows me well

I once wrote a poem swearing off poems;
it was 1820; the poem was wordy.

The most pressing things you want to say
have always been hard to say clearly.

So I'll try to say them with cunning words,
but before I can say them, my voice fails.

I seek no forgiveness from the gods,
and would even less speak of it to living men.

To the east of a cloud, one scale exposed,
one claw is exposed on the other side.

But better than showing scale and claw
is to show no claw and scale at all.

More true still of the things I've said--
of scale and claw the lingering trace.

I repent my writings from the very first,
in heart's silence I will strive for Void.

This year I truly swear off poems--
The problem is not that my talent is gone.
['From Spring to Autumn of 1827 Some Things Came to Me Which I Wrote Down Haphazardly {no. 15 in a series}', by Gong Zizhen, trans. by Stephen Owen, in Zen Poems]

with apologies to Mr. W

In very loving memory, and a wistful moment of wonder. [Click to enlarge.]




Please enjoy Calvin and Hobbes at gocomics.com.

more of the same

    I seem to have lost part of myself. An important part. Maybe the map to my soul? And no matter where I look, I cannot seem to find it again, or even a clue as to where to start seeking it again, or how to get a new one. Today I looked at S.H. Mall and in G-town; what I got for my effort was some truly black nail polish (see below), a book of Indian poetry, some unappreciated leering from a furry-faced undergraduate with throat-clearing issues and an unfortunate fondness for flip-flops (just not a good look for men ever, in my opinion), and a silly, freckly sunburn on my left arm.
    And this song, drilled into my head. Eerie, irritating, and apt.

It is so easy to see dysfunction between you and me
We must free up these tired souls before the sadness kills us both
I tried and tried to let you know I love you but I'm letting go
It may not last, but, I know I just don't know
If you don't know then you can't care
And you show up but you're not there
But I'm waiting and you want to--
Still afraid that I will desert you

Everyday, with every worthless word we get more far away
The distance between us makes it so hard to stay
Nothing lasts forever, but be honest, babe
It hurts but it may be the only way

A bed that's warm with memories can heal us temporarily
The misbehaving only makes the ditch between us so damn deep
Built a wall around my heart I'll never let it fall apart
But strangely I wish secretly it would fall down while I'm asleep...

Though we have not hit the ground it doesn't mean we're not still falling
Oh, I want so bad to pick you up but you're still too reluctant to accept my help
What a shame, I hope you find somewhere to place the blame
But until then the fact remains...

Everyday, with every worthless word we get more far away
The distance between us makes it so hard to stay
But nothing lasts forever, but be honest babe
It hurts but it may be the only way
["Nothing Lasts Forever," Maroon 5, from It Won't Be Soon Before Long]

my new "favorite" song

You left me hanging from a thread we once swung from together
I've licked my wounds but I can't ever see them getting better
Something's gotta change
Things cannot stay the same

Her hair was pressed against her face, her eyes were red with anger
Enraged by things unsaid and empty beds and bad behavior
Something’s gotta change
It must be rearranged, oh

I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl
It's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of the heavy world
So goodnight, goodnight...
Hope that things work out all right, yeah
Whoa

The room was silent as we all tried so hard to remember
The way it feels to be alive
The day that he first met her
Something's gotta change
Things cannot stay the same

You make me think of someone wonderful, but I can't place her

I wake up every morning wishing one more time to face her
Something's gotta change
It must be rearranged, oh

I'm sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl
It's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of a heavy world
So goodnight, goodnight...
Hope that things work out all right

So much to love
So much to learn
But I won't be there to teach you, oh
I know I can be close
But I try my best to reach you

I'm so sorry, I did not mean to hurt my little girl
It's beyond me, I cannot carry the weight of a heavy world
So goodnight, goodnight...
Hope that things work out all right, yeah
Whoa, oh...
Yeah
[Maroon 5, "Goodnight, Goodnight" from the amazing, spectacular It Won't Be Soon Before Long]

just two strangers on a beach

    I've written here before about my theories about "grand gestures"--going out of one's way to let one's feelings be known to another. I appreciate the indulgence of those who have also listened to my ruminations on the subject at other times. I hadn't put my finger on where it all came from: the origin of my feelings about the subject, my great desire to write about it, the vehemence of my opinion.
    It finally made its way into my consciousness today, this morning, while I contemplated another change to the living space. I need to take some pictures off the walls, maybe add some new ones. For the first time in a long time, I really looked at one thing that's been hanging on my wall next to my bed for a long time. This (click for detail):
Or, more accurately, this:
    It appeared in the Chicago Tribune Magazine just after Independence Day around 2002, I think. Something about the photograph struck me at the time, and I cut it out, but I knew that there was something wrong with my interest in it; it revealed something that I had to keep hidden. I took the picture to work with me, put it in a folder and shoved it into a drawer. It remained there for a while, maybe a year or more? Eventually, I found it again and hung it up at work. It was just an odd part of my peripheral consciousness. After the separation and divorce, I found myself with an excess of picture frames, so it made its way into a frame and onto the wall. Something about it soothed me and vaguely excited me at the same time.
    This morning, it really hit me: this is it--this is the grand gesture. The "I have to show you how I feel, even at the risk of failing spectacularly" moment. These two, who apparently barely knew each other, chucked all sense for a weekend on the road, just to see the fireworks. They slept on the beach.
    Before, when I tried to explain it, the Grand Gesture ended up sounding (and feeling, wrongly) like "proof of greater love." The other person risking everything to prove that they feel more.
    Because I thought that I wanted to be the one who was loved more than I loved.
    And really, how likely is that? And if I had it, would I want it? I don't think so, either.
    Contemplating that picture this morning, though, I realized that I'd been thinking about it, and explaining it, all wrong. It's not proof of greater love--it's evidence of reciprocal feeling that I want. Have always wanted. Still want. It's not about being the recipient of mind-blowing gifts, or meaningful letters, or even a haiku written and rewritten over and over until it's perfect. It's about giving and taking those standout moments. Taking and making the phone calls. Giving kick-ass back rubs and getting kick-ass foot rubs. Buying dinner...and having dinner bought for me.
    Sometimes the grandest of the gestures are missed while one is doing something else at the time--something like living, just getting by. And when you realize you've missed them, they're all the sweeter, all the more "grand" because they were done, and missed, and the one who bothered also was able to let them go without fanfare. Because it's about you--and not about the response.
    Sometimes the grandest gestures are the ones you'd planned to make, but never had the chance. But only a fool doesn't take that chance.

sometimes it's good to share

thanks to The Cat.

45 of the most random things you probably never needed to know about someone
Your name spelled backwards?:	"yma", or "breg"
What did you do last night?:	wrote, and watched the Cubs 'til I couldn't stomach it anymore
The last thing you downloaded onto your computer?:	some photos from high school
Have you ever licked a 9 volt battery?:	no.
Last time you swam in a pool?:	several years--maybe 5 or 6?
What are you wearing?:	cream cami & flannel PJ pants
How many cars have you owned?:	7
Type of music you dislike most?:	opera, though some vocal classical is OK
Are you registered to vote?:	of course
Do you have cable?:	yes
What kind of computer do you use?:	at home: Gateway laptop; at work: Dell desktop
Ever made a prank phone call?:	yes (Hi Peggy!)
Do you like anyone right now?:	yes, but he doesn't like me at all
Would you go bungee jumping or sky diving?:	no
Furthest place you ever traveled?:	Santa Fe, Houston or Miami. Or "to myself."
What's your favorite comic strip?:	Unshelved, though last Sunday's Baby Blues did me in
Do you know all the words to the national anthem?:	yes
Shower, morning or night?:	prefer night, and in the dark
Best movie you've seen in the past month?:	The Queen
Favorite pizza toppings?:	Canadian bacon
Chips or popcorn?:	chips
What cell phone provider do you have?:	Nextel
Have you ever smoked peanut shells?:	what the hell?
Have you ever been in a beauty pageant?:	ha!
Orange Juice or apple?:	orange: more pulpy, more better
Who were the last people you sat at lunch with?:	D & coworker T, though we were working while we [I] ate
Favorite chocolate bar?:	currently, Milky Way
Who is your longest friend and how long?:	Eric--if by "long" you mean duration of friendship. We've known each other 27 years.
Last time you ate a homegrown tomato?:	a year or so ago, in salad
Have you ever won a trophy?:	not in so many words
Favorite arcade game?:	if I'm in an arcade, I'll play pool or air hockey
Ever ordered from an infomercial?:	no.
Sprite or 7-UP?:	Squirt
Have you ever had to wear a uniform to school/work?:	no.
Last thing you bought at Walgreens?:	a notebook & allergy medicine
Ever thrown up in public?:	yes, though it's been a l-o-n-g time.
Would you prefer being a millionaire or finding true love?:	true love, duh
Do you believe in love at first sight?:	not exactly
Spongebob or Jimmy Neutron?:	I could not care less.
Did you have long hair as a young kid?:	yes.
What message is on your voicemail?:	I've no clue--I haven't heard it in ages.
Where would you like to go right now?:	to the beach, leaving no forward. "Still haven't gotten over you yet..."
What's the name of your pet?:	don't have one.
What kind of back pack do you have, and what's in it?:	I carry a black messanger bag. It's full of work.
What do you think about most?:	eh, this & that. I'm not such a thinker, really.
Take this survey Find more surveys MySpace Surveys Bzoink - The Original Survey Site

hope, indeed, springs eternal

    Today is "I Survived My Divorce Day," so designated because it was the originator's divorce that took place on May 28th. Well, why not celebrate? Or at least acknowledge?
    I am out of sorts today, so this post might not be all that it's supposed to be. It's a rainy but disturbingly bright Memorial Day and I woke today with a sore neck and powerful sense of the wrongness of my life right now. Something is, indeed, rotten in the state of...everything, I guess. So take this at face value (as much as such a thing is possible here) and try not to seek the deeper meaning.
Some Things I Do Not Miss About Being Married

• The sense, which I had in varying degrees at different times but may have had all along, however unconsciously, that I was not doing it right. That I was not capable of doing it right. Or that I did not want to.
• Never being solely responsible for any decision, no matter how inconsequential. This is more a function of our specific marriage than the institution in general, definitely.
• Feeling compelled to accept gifts that I disliked, especially jewelry, which entailed later wearing gifts that I disliked. The pearls (too sedate), the engagement ring (specifically what I did not want, and the unholy row about not being consulted--wow), the sapphires (too dainty), the knots (too frumpy), the bi-color studs that matched the large, bi-color, expensive bracelet... (yellow and white gold, alternating?! Who likes this stuff? I don't!)
• His family. With only a couple of exceptions--ugh. I could not have known it at the time, but, truth will out. In this case I certainly became aware of their feelings when we separated.
• Sharing everything, automatically. Sound selfish? It is. But I went from being a very childish 20-year-old (and youngest sibling) to being in a very egalitarian marriage. I had not known what "sharing" meant, and when I learned, all at once, it came as a shock. In all fairness, it probably did for him, too--he was a 22-year-old only child with much older parents. Saddled with an immature, homesick, profoundly bored wife. My God--ick. Certainly not every Ph.D. student's second-year dream.

Some Things that I Do Miss About Being Married

• My ex, specifically. Not what you expected? Well, there is much about him to miss, like:
  1. Great hugs.
  2. A very sure, very handsome smile that lit up his face and made every photograph of him slightly annoying in its perfection.
  3. His back-rubs, and face-rubs. He could, in a half hour or less, make a migraine go away. Before he entered his current profession, he'd thought to become a physical therapist; he'd have been a great one.
  4. An amazing cooking repertoire. For someone whose mother could start with the best ingredients and make a meal that tasted like paste, he has a real talent. That fish curry stew was fucking weird, but....
  5. His presence, familiar and comforting. Part of my life for 15 years, impossible even now to believe that he's gone, and essentially at my doing.
  6. The sense that he never fell behind in a conversation. Everyone knows I can be hard to follow, and most people just give up at some point. He never gave up, and never seemed to want to. He hung in--he never left me alone.
• Money. Oh, yeah: I really miss being part of a two-income household, especially where the other income was more than twice mine. Miss it enough to want it back, considering what it costs? No. But it was nice to feel able to buy whateverthefuckever I wanted to buy, without wondering how the bills would be paid.
• The house, both the literal and physical home. Security, safety. The pool table, always taken for granted. The basement, when bad weather threatened. The attached garage, when it was raining and the groceries need to come in. Having a place where I can lie down in the grass. For an unattached female living alone in a downtown apartment, one's options for this last one are pretty limited.
• The cats.
• The social calendar. It drove me crazy, lots of times, to have social stuff that I "needed" to do that wasn't my choice or my doing, but a recluse becomes more reclusive when left to herself. Being with him (a very gregarious person in general) forced me out of my shell. He was good for me that way.
• The sensation of being really necessary to another person.
• Social acceptance, anywhere, automatically, thanks to the not-so-secret key to the club: the ring.
• Someone to do the yucky stuff--and being relied upon to do the yucky stuff for someone else. I'm not a squeamish little girly-girl, but I'm also not one to kiss a big bug on the mouth. When there was a big bug present, he would do away with it. The exception was a spider of any size, which would turn him into Milhouse. I was in charge of arachnid elimination, and I took my duty seriously. What's to make fun of? We had a mutual responsibility.
• Shared history, with someone who wanted one. The only person on the planet who would understand so many inside jokes, and also many things that would make me weep to try to explain. He would just understand. The Cat wrote in a post yesterday, "one of the sad things about getting older is that one by one people lose whole lifetimes every time another friend dies." It doesn't just happen when they die. We lose people on purpose sometimes, which can be even worse.

Some of the Best Things About Being Unmarried

• My schedule is my own. I wake, eat, work, and sleep when and how I choose.
• My exquisite musical taste has become, um, further... 'unrefined', thanks to not needing to moderate my listening to anyone else's taste. I listen to whatever appeals at the moment.
• I have options--including the option to kiss inappropriate men.

That last list is short, but perhaps it is because in making it I unwittingly hit upon the most important difference: I am free, now. Free to make my own choices, and my own mistakes. Free to do what I wish, even if I end up screwing it all up in the process. In these specific circumstances, I was right to seek out the freedom at the cost of everything that I lost in the process. And, hard as it was, I survived.

maybe it's not love, after all

bring me angels
to keep away hurt
shield and solace
offer divine sanctuary
in love there
is no need to find
a hiding place
and when beloved
you come again
i will know your face
and speak your name
[bell hooks, '34', from When Angels Speak of Love: Poems]

revelations, deep into the soul of the gerb

I took the Similar Minds Short Jung test, and here are my results:

INFP - "Questor". High capacity for caring. Emotional face to the world. High sense of honor derived from internal values. 4.4% of total population.

Free Jung Personality Test (similar to Myers-Briggs/MBTI)

The last time I took this, I got different results. See them here.

---

Men See You As Choosy

Men notice you light years before you notice them. You take a selective approach to dating, and you can afford to be picky. You aren't looking for a quick flirt - but a memorable encounter. It may take men a while to ask you out, but it's worth the wait.

How Do Men See You?

---

I took the Similar Minds Brain Lateralization test, and here are my results:

Brain Lateralization Test Results

Right Brain (72.4%) The right hemisphere is the visual, figurative, artistic, and intuitive side of the brain. Left Brain (27.6%) The left hemisphere is the logical, articulate, assertive, and practical side of the brain

Are You Right or Left Brained?(word pair test)
personality tests by similarminds.com

---

You Are the Super Ego

While some people may think first and act later...you often don't act at all. You rather be safe than sorry, and you take ethics pretty seriously. Like everyone, you have some pretty crazy desires. But unlike everyone, you restrain yourself. You have high standards for your own behavior. And you happily exceed them.

Are You Id, Ego, or Superego?

---

You Are Not Stupid

You got 10/10 questions right! While acing this quiz doesn't prove you're a genius, you're at least pretty darn smart.

Are You Stupid?

---

Finally, The Phoenix did a great list: "100 Unsexiest Men of 2007." I was going to list all of them, with indications of those with which I agreed or disagreed, but it was going to be a lot of work for very little payoff; I agreed with nearly all. Instead, here's an irritating list of those with which I disagreed:

Numbers 67, 62 (totally!)...oh, wow. Only two of them? Huh. That's pretty, um, wow.

choices

    I wish I had a friend. I don't mean that the way it sounds; I have lots of friends, in the abstract. Some in the particular, too--the very particular, even, so that it is hard to imagine aspects of my life without them. But right now, I wish I had a friend of a sort that I don't have. I need someone to go to Galena with me. I need someone to go ghost-banishing with me.
    I suppose that the mere fact that I want company for this mission renders the mission itself suspect. If I need help with it, perhaps the ghosts aren't ready to be banished. Or, more accurately, perhaps I am not ready to let them go. Maybe it isn't healthy to do it at all, unless I can do it alone: drive out there and remember the other drives out there, before--past Freeport--and into town, to see the places that are now different, on purpose. (It is harder, having some really fantastic pictures of it, because it is even more and probably permanently ingrained in my mind.) It would not be any easier with anyone else there, and it might even be worse. I already feel like a lot of this stuff inside me doesn't really "translate", so maybe it would reduce some of the pressure if I didn't try so hard to do it. Maybe taking someone along would just be too much pressure to explain; why am I crying already, just coming over the bridge? Why does this doorway matter? Why does the Night Depository drawer on the bank make me both laugh and cry?
    The thing is, I'm sort of afraid that I'll get there and be able to do some of it, but some part of it will be just too much, and then...I'll be there. Stuck.
    I know it won't happen that way.
    But what if it does?
    Sometimes it's just overwhelming, the desire to put it all away. To find a drawer that's big enough to shove all the memories into, so that I can have my life back. I know it's impossible to do it all at once, but that doesn't mean I won't keep trying.
    It doesn't really matter, anyway. I know that even if they were all in the drawer, even if I had "successfully forgotten," the time would come when I was in the right (i.e. wrong) frame of mind, and I got the wrong (i.e. right) glimpse of the chest of drawers, and I would remember what was in that drawer...and it would be back, all of it, as if I'd never put it away.
    But at least it wouldn't get me without having to work at it. The pain would be earned.
    I digress, I guess, from the point of the post. I wish I had a friend, with whom I could go on this quest. Someone who would do it, no questions asked.
    (Why do we ask that, above all else? Isn't it better to have someone who cares enough to ask the right question at the right time?)
    Someone who would mop up my tears, again. Someone who would take the wheel if I just couldn't do it for one more minute.
    I guess that's the point. That's what got me here, asking these questions. I made my choice.

when reality mirrors psyche

I think that I've mentioned the pending deconstruction of the neighboring building. It happened last week. Early in the morning, for several days running. I got very little sleep last week.

6:17 AM 5-07-07 The majority of the interior had been gutted by this point. Much of the exterior had also been altered--note the railing, askew.

4:22 AM 5-10-07
The front end loader was dropped off bright & early, at 4:15 on Thursday morning. I was so not happy about waking up to the sound of a large machine scraping along a large metal...thing at 4-fucking-15 AM, especially with a TSUG meeting at 9:30. plegh

6:45 AM 5-10-07
I was a little disappointed; they didn't just wallop the building and crush it like on TV. They pecked at it, sidewalk first. Bor-ring!

7:09 AM 5-11-07
Day 2, just after 7:00, they started again. It's OK, though, because I'm usually awake by that time. The new guy (the blond version) had already started bee-beeping his way around the parking lot by then, anyway. The destructo-guys had made good progress (can I call it that?) on the building the day before.

6:12 AM 5-11-07
The wall that the guy is standing, um, on?, came down in a big "woosh". That was cool.

4:14 AM 5-12-07
Yeah. Quarter after 4 on SATURDAY morning, some asshole was outside my window in this machine, digging through piles of bricks and sticks and dirt. Imagine what went through my mind while I took this photo....

5:11 AM 5-16-07Yesterday, they packed up the front-end loader on its flat-bed at 5:00 in the morning. I was happy to see it go...but it took me only a moment to realize that they don't have all of it. You might have to click through to the larger size of the photo to see this, but just under the blind cord, there is what looks like a little hook on the ground. It is actually part of the machine, and it probably weighs a few hundred pounds.It's still lying there, tonight.I hope they don't come back for it in the morning, early. I think it's going to be a looong summer.

on being a utility infielder of sorts

I just don't feel much like playing lately. I can't sit it out entirely, but I'm definitely on the sidelines, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. To use the very tired refrain, "I just don't think I can do this."

Sometimes, though, you just have to, even when you're not feeling it. Isn't that kind of like what Julius Erving said? "Being a professional is doing the things you love to do on the days you don't feel like doing them." Sort of like being an adult: it means being there, even when the last thing in the world you want to do is to be there.

So, until I can come up with something better, this is all I've got: I've read some books and watched some movies lately. Let me know if you want to know more. If not, just see what a weird combination of things I've sought for entertainment purposes over the past month or so..

 

Cover of Night (Linda Howard)

North by Northwest (1959)

Angels (Marian Keyes)

Five Easy Pieces (1970)

The People Look Like Flowers at Last (Charles Bukowski)

Blood Diamond (2006)

Watermelon (Marian Keyes)

Casino Royale (2006)

Obsession (Karen Robards)

The Queen (2006)

The Quality of Life Report (Meghan Daum)

more than you were looking for

1. ONE OF YOUR SCARS, HOW DID YOU GET IT?: There are several small scars on my left leg from a night during college when Steve and I got drunk, played poker, and broke a window in a French door with my knee.
2. WHAT IS ON THE WALLS IN YOUR ROOM?: Several framed photographs of friends, family, and some significant places in my life, a framed print (Edward Weston's 'Bodieson & Riley') and an original pen-and-ink drawing from Art Fair.
3. DO YOU SNORE, GRIND YOUR TEETH OR TALK IN YOUR SLEEP?: I breathe deeply, I guess. And my hands twitch.
4. WHAT MUSIC DO YOU LISTEN TO?: Almost exclusively, mix CDs.
5. DO YOU KNOW WHAT TIME YOU WERE BORN?: Yes. Oh, did you want to know? 12:29 PM
6. WHAT DO YOU WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW?: I'm pretty content, thanks.
7. WHAT DO YOU MISS?: The bull's eye. (I suck at darts but like to play anyway.)
8. WHAT IS YOUR MOST PRIZED POSSESSION(S)?: I try not to be locked into this sort of thing. But I will admit to being partial to my photos, and my camera.
9. HOW TALL ARE YOU?: 162.56 cm
10. DO YOU GET CLAUSTROPHOBIC?: Rarely. Those nasty elevators in really tall buildings may be the only time.
11. DO YOU GET SCARED IN THE DARK?: Only when I'm scared to begin with. Nothing's there in the dark that isn't there in the light.
12. THE LAST PERSON TO MAKE YOU CRY?: The PowerPuff Girls. I dropped one of their CDs on my toe today at work. For real? Probably Nick. It's been a while.
13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE COLOGNE FOR A GUY/GIRL?: Whatever my favourite guy is wearing.
14. WHAT KIND OF HAIR/EYE COLOR DO YOU LIKE ON THE OPPOSITE SEX?: The standard issue are fine. Nick's are a sort of sea blue-green, more blue when he's tired, more green when he's well-rested & goofy.
15. WHERE CAN YOU SEE YOURSELF PROPOSING?: Only in an alternative universe, 'cause that's sooo not me.
16. COFFEE OR ENERGY DRINK?: Neither. Tea, Coke, water, juice, milk.
17. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PIZZA TOPPING?: Canadian bacon.
18. IF YOU COULD EAT ANYTHING RIGHT NOW, WHAT WOULD IT BE?: Strawberries.
20. HAVE YOU EVER EATEN A GOLDFISH?: Fuck, no! [RIP, Charles]
21. WHAT WAS THE FIRST GIFT SOMEONE EVER GAVE YOU?: Life. (Awww.) No, seriously, how would I know? I'll give credit to Mom & Dad, and say: Randy.
22. DO YOU LIKE ANYONE?: Yes.
23. ARE YOU DOUBLE JOINTED?: Only mentally.
24. FAVORITE CLOTHING BRAND?: Nerd Eddie Bauer.
25. DO YOU HAVE A PET RIGHT NOW?: Not literally. I have many, many plants and some step-fish.
27. WHAT KIND IS IT?: Er, there are several different types of plants (dwarf sansiveria, jade, aloe, cactus, philodendron, and teardrop peperomia, off the top of my head) and more varieties of fish than I could ever list.
28. WOULD YOU FALL IN LOVE KNOWING THAT THE PERSON IS LEAVING?: Not because they were leaving, surely, but love is love and it happens when it happens. Anyway, it's not really an issue. I'm there, and he's here.
29. WHAT IS THE BEST WAY TO SHOW SOMEONE HOW MUCH THEY MEAN TO YOU?: Use your words. No one knows what's in your heart unless you say.
30. SAY A NUMBER FROM ONE TO A HUNDRED: 7
31. BLONDES OR BRUNETTES?: I'm blonde. Nick's hair is mostly brown.
32. WHAT IS THE ONE NUMBER YOU CALL OFTEN?: "fore"
33. WHAT ANNOYS YOU MOST?: Stupid questions. No, really, passive-aggressiveness.
34. HAVE YOU BEEN OUT OF CANADA?: Honey, I've never been into Canada, except that one time when The Cat & I went bowling....
35. YOUR WEAKNESSES?: are legion.
36. MET ANYONE FAMOUS?: Yes, but long before he became that way.
37. FIRST JOB?: bakery clerk.
38. EVER DONE A PRANK CALL?: Yes. (Hi, Peggy!)
40. HAVE YOU EVER HAD SURGERY?: Yes. Many times.
41. HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOUR WISDOM TEETH REMOVED?: Yes.
42. WHAT DO YOU GET COMPLIMENTED ABOUT MOST?: The sharpness of my wit. No, seriously, my eyes. Or my ass. No, really, my eyes.
43. HAVE YOU EVER HAD BRACES?: Yes.
44. WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY?: The common sense that God gave a radish.
45. HOW MANY KIDS DO YOU WANT?: What fer?
46. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?: No.
47. DO YOU WISH ON STARS?: Yup. Currently, Mark Wahlberg and Jean Reno.
48. WHAT DID YOU DO TODAY?: Work. Put gasoline ($38.76) in my car. Finished a book. Talked on the phone. Ate toast.
49. WHAT SHAMPOO DO YOU USE?: Redken "Blonde Glam" and Graham Webb "Ice Cap".
50. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING?: Yes.
51. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?: Ham.
52. ANY BAD HABITS?: Yes.
53. WHAT IS YOUR MOST EMBARRASSING CD ON THE SHELF?: That I listen to? Hmm. That's tough. I'll pick a song instead: Hanson's "Mmm Bop."
54. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON, WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?: No. I'm hard to get to know, and irritating.
56. DO LOOKS MATTER?: Yes.
57. HOW DO YOU RELEASE ANGER?: Through my gills.
58. WHERE IS YOUR SECOND HOME?: Miami. No, wait, that's my third home. The second is where my family lives.
59. WHO IS YOUR FAMOUS/ ACTOR/ SINGER CRUSH?: "Crush" implies that it's unrequited. He simply hasn't met me yet.
60. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD?: M

61. HOW MANY NUMBERS ARE IN YOUR CELL PHONE?: 0-9, just like everybody else's, duh.
62. WERE YOU A FAN OF BARNEY?: Barney who?
63. DO YOU USE SARCASM?: No.
64. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN IN A MOSH PIT?: No.
65. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GOD?: Yes.
66. WHAT ARE YOUR NICKNAMES?: gerb, and something else.
67. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE BAND/SINGER?: It varies. Today...we'll say...Staind.
68. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE TV SHOW?: Cubs vs. ___, on WGN
69. WHAT WAS YOUR ACT/SAT SCORE?: Good enough for the school that I attended. You wanna compare MPRE scores? Then I'll bother pulling out the file.
70. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?: Moose Tracks
71. DO YOU HAVE ALL YOUR FINGERS AND TOES?: Last time I checked, though it's been a rough week.
72. WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU WORKED OUT?: Last night.
73. WHO/WHAT DO YOU MISS MOST RIGHT NOW?: Am I senile, or is this strangely reminiscent of #7?
74. WHAT IS THE FASTEST YOU'VE EVER DRIVEN?: I always stay just one step ahead of the law.
76. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO?: My A/C, my fingers flying on the keyboard (I'm late!), and my toast crunching in my mouth.
77. LAST THING YOU DRANK?: Coke.
78. LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?: Fluffy.
79. THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE IN THE OPPOSITE SEX?: Whether they are Nick or not. If not, then I stop noticing. (Awww.)
80. FAVORITE THOUGHT PROVOKING SONG?: "Mmm Bop."
81. FAVORITE THING TO HATE?: Maraschino cherries.
82. FAVORITE MONTH OF THE YEAR?: September
83. FAVORITE ZODIAC SIGN?: Pisces
84. FAVORITE SPORT?: Baseball!
85. WHAT IS YOUR HAIR COLOR?: Blonde, I think. It's been a while since I answered this question....
86. EYE COLOR?: Blue
87. SHOE SIZE?: 7.5
88. SIBLINGS?: Yes.
89. FAVORITE FAST FOOD RESTAURANT?: I rarely do fast food. Whatever, as long as I can get a plain chicken sandwich, fries and a chocolate shake.
90. YOU LIKE SUSHI?: I'll eat it.
91. LAST THING YOU WATCHED?: Cubs vs. ___
92. FAVORITE DAY OF THE YEAR?: Yesterday. No, wait: tomorrow.
93. PLAY ANY MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS?: Yes.
94. REPUBLICAN OR DEMOCRAT?: Yes. Sort of.
95. KISSES OR HUGS?: I refuse to choose. But if pressed I'll take "dirty".
96. RELATIONSHIPS OR ONE-NIGHT STANDS?: Bugger off.
97. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU BOUGHT?: Over-priced gasoline.
98. WHAT KIND OF CAR DO YOU DRIVE?: 2002 Honda Civic LX
99. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?: Just finished Sarah Willis' The Rehearsal. Ehh.
100. MASHED POTATOES OR MACARONI AND CHEESE?: 90% of the time, mashed potatoes.

 [100 random from The Survey Place]

what passes for inspiration

    In that way that I have of being not nearly so invisible as I'd like to think, I've been discovered yet again by a character from my chequered past. The good news is that this time around, it's a good character. I've some quite fond memories of this one, who I recently described to a friend as "not so much [just] the kind of boy my mother warned me about--it was actually his mother who warned me about him."
    We were pretty young when we met; we've probably known each other for, um, 25 years now. (Holy crap.) It made me think about what I was like when I was little. Prehaps he should be one of the ones to answer that question....
    I was somewhat older than I appear the following photos when I met the friend of whom I am reminiscing. Older, taller, and generally a lot less chubby. Oh, and I tended to wear more clothing most of the time, too.

the relative size of my fishness increases

    A little over 11 years ago, I had made the decision (with help, of course) to come to this place. I was to start law school in just over 3 months, to finish in 3 years. About a month before graduation, I took a job that, while 'interesting,' I had no intention of keeping for any length of time. I planned to leave it in less than a year, in fact, after I'd taken--and passed--the bar exam.
    Tomorrow, one day shy of 8 years exactly from my first day on the job, I will be honored for my service to the organization. Several others will be honored at the same time, for their service of 5 years or more. One has been in her [part-time] position for 19 years.
    My feelings about this accomplishment are mixed. (My own honor, not the others'.) Should I be proud? Is it cheesy? Should I be ashamed for selling out, maintaining what is often an intellectually simple task/job when I know that I should do more? Should I be grateful for the opportunity for security, comfort, and flexibility to be the rather peculiar employee that I have become? Should I feel guilty for not doing more with the opportunity that I've had, within the job and outside of it? Should I feel compelled to make a change--again, within the job, or outside of it?
    Regardless, tomorrow I will be presented with a certificate of congratulations from the Board of Trustees. And on Wednesday, I will be honored, specifically but much more informally, for my 8 years of continuous service to the organization. Unexpected praise, for an unexpected accomplishment.

thinking fast, albeit a little late

Think Fast Survey: answer with the first thing that pops into your head.
DON'T CHEAT!!!

1. My ex is still... married, as far as I know, though he's never told me so, specifically.
2. I am listening to... my landlords and their employees smash the shit out of the building next door, which they own, with sledge hammers, after a couple of hours of poker and heavy drinking.
3. Maybe I should... go join them. It sounds like more fun than a barrel of monkeys, given the frequency of my male landlord's chipmunkish laugh chattering across the parking lot.
4. I love... K.
5. My best friends... often don't quite get me, so why would I think anyone else should?
6. I don't understand... why I've been such a complete slack-ass about dealing with the 2004 taxes or dividing the photographs. Just do it, already!
7. I lost my respect for... a couple of people this week who I'd thought were raised better than they've behaved.
8. The meaning of my screen name is... a long story. The gerb thing has been explained previously, ad nauseam; two of my email addresses are based on that. The name that I use here happens to be my own birth name. My most common email screen name is an SNLesque play on that. My work screen name is my first name and last initial. The other blogs are written under an assumed name which refers to perhaps the most necessary and sufficient attributes that define me as a person. Does that clarify things?
9. Love is... messy. Wonderful. Irritating. Where I want to be. "An interesting haircut." Long walks without talking. Sticking around to talk, after.
10. Somewhere, someone is...No, that's wrong. It's:
    Somewhere in the world tonight
    Two lovers are treating each other right
    Somewhere else in a lonely town
    One lover waits an endless hour
11. I will always... wish I'd never had M-Care.
12. Forever seems like... too far away to worry about. 'Now is the appointed hour.'
13. I never ever want to lose... my sight.
14. My mobile phone is... not as nice as my first one. Sometimes new technology just isn't an improvement on the old standard.
15. When I wake up in the morning... I hope there's a gorgeous man standing next to my bed. Not bloody likely, but you never know.
16. I get annoyed when... someone at work plays passive-aggressive games that involve me. Grow the fuck up already!
17. Parties are... generally better in anticipation and/or retrospect than in execution.
18. My pet..., the next time around, is likely to be a middle-sized dog named--if the other half wins this battle--"Santino" or "Yellow Dog."
19. Kisses are... high on my emotional-nutritional pyramid, along with inside jokes, hugs, sunshine, laughing one's ass off at the unexplainable stuff, and "pointless" shoes.
20. Today I... ate breakfast at Parkway, bought some stuff at Target, went for a walk, cried, talked, watched American Wedding, ate a Golden Cupcake, and now I'm writing this.
21. I really want...it all to work out, somehow.

 [Originated with: The Survey Place, located via Sweet Memes]

photographic proof that I've been alive these last few months

's me, 5 March '07
One of the most beautiful, peaceful, memorable places in the world--the Campground by the River--13 March '07.
Don't worry. It's not as bad as it looks. 13 March '07
Nachos fit for a king, or, in this case, a 7-top. 15 March '07
How We Spent Our Spring Breaks--I went North, and he went East. 21 March '07
The candle that fascinates us, stuck in a lemonade bottle. 28 March '07
One of my jealousy Easter flowers. 13 April '07
One of my workplace's few [remaining] aesthetic amenities. 13 April '07
My love, and the (smaller) product of our idiotic agreement to "just look at the plant sale...." 28 April '07
These live in Biosphere 3, a.k.a. the Basement. Most of the rest live with me, in what is coming to be known as The Terrarium. 28 April '07

thinking blogger awards

Hi. Remember me?
    On April 9, I was given a great honor. Cindy at Adventures in Blah Blah Land named me a fellow Thinking Blogger. Five days later, Popeye at ...and hope and history rhyme did the same. Charmingly, they both gave the same rationale--my continued celebration of National Poetry Month.
    The primary honors that result from this nomination? Being able to display a button, and also being able to share the love and choose five blogs myself, to similarly honor.    
    If chosen, here are the rules:
        1. If, and only if, you get tagged, write a post with links to 5 blogs that make you think.
        2. Link to this post so that people can easily find the exact origin of the meme.
        3. Optional: Proudly display the 'Thinking Blogger Award' with a link to the post that you wrote (there is an alternative gold version if silver doesn't fit your blog).
    I have had the distinct advantage of a few weeks to consider the bloggers whose work I admire in this way, and what I would like people to know about them. Forgive me if this goes on for a bit, but I've never really been known for my brevity.
    There are three who would be on this list, no doubt, if the blogs that I fell in love with were still 'in production.' Unfortunately, one has seemingly fallen off the face of the earth, one is writing in a different, more "socially acceptable" (and so less edgy and, frankly, less compulsively readable) format, and the last has apparently been so swallowed up by his extracurricular activities that he has no time to write about them. Of the three, the only one whose name I can mention is Robert, formerly of 'worldaskew', etc. Consider this brief mention a signpost of how very much he is missed, in blogville and elsewhere.
    The five bloggers that I think deserve Thinking Blogger awards are:

1. Mr. Miyagi from The Twice-Poisoned Dog. It is surreally beautiful, heartbreaking, lovely, terribly sad. I don't know that it is supposed to be, necessarily. It sometimes feels like I'm reading someone's diary over their shoulder--thrilling, deceitful and enthralling.
2. J.R. from Thinking. A good, good friend. My blog's blog-momma, its raison d'etre. The one person whose writing makes me cry more often than any other. We have lots in common (work, cats, some personal stuff) so when she writes about that, I nod and smile. And she has whole aspects of life that are so 'exotic' and far-removed, I read in fascination or vicarious joy. The best part? What she chooses to share is revealed with care and delicacy--she's such a skilled writer that the reader doesn't often notice the complex privacy balance going on behind the curtains.
3. Peter at Like a treasure hunt...pieces all over the world.... It's a slice of a totally different, very appealing, life than the one that I live. He posts beautiful photographs and wonderful stories. It's fascinating. This is a guy that I would love to meet, and all because of the personality that shines through his blog.
4. Molly at Reality outran apprehension. Although I have 12 of my own, Molly is my 'unrelated-aunt.' She is a member of the family that I didn't know that I had. The one whose advice always makes sense, even if it seems to come from out of nowhere (or from Italy, which is somewhat closer to the truth). She has a unique perspective on...everything...and so often when I read what she has written, I find myself sitting back in my chair, thinking, "She got it. She saw what no one else could see."
5. The guys, particularly the 'royal we', at Deadspin. A cop-out? No. The site is often stupid, often completely tangential to my life, and at least 80% of the time, laugh-out-loud funny. I have learned more about sports since I've been reading their feed than I had in the previous 15 years (during which I had an uninterrupted subscription to Sports Illustrated, of course). Seriously, Deadspin as Thinking Bloggers? Yes. Definitely.