You Got Sars!

running through my head is that cadence…. here we go again, same ol’ shit again… Not this last roommate, but the last time I had roommates, it was re-fuckin-cockulous. The level of disrespect is hard to even describe. Imagine all your shit being used and abused then left while you’re on vaca. Yup, not to mention the money racked up on your credit cards, the rent you’re saddled with and the mother of all sins….. the loss of your tap. So the roomie and her bf decide it’s ’bout that time, they need to consolidate their stuff or something, thus leaving me with the options of: find a place for my stuff that’s all my own, find a place for my stuff that’s half my own or shove my shit in the folks garage and put up with my dad’s crazy bullshit. hhhhmmmmmm, while half my own isn’t terrible, it leaves me with the possibility of the same occurance(s) – rommie leaving to be with significant other or roomie(s) taking complete advantage of my cool shit and my lack of presence. Did I mention I am the easiest roommate ever??? Yeah. I am realistically only home 72 hours a week. Yup, I pay rent for a large (organized and accessible) storage area and shower. I am at the bf’s 4 or 5 nights a week on average and then there is dog sitting. At least 6 to 8 weeks of the year I house sit. Couple this with my love of cooking for others, desire to have a clean environment and lack of concern over the little shit, I think that makes me ideal. (If I do say so myself)


anyway, I digress… I found myself with a need to find a place to live. I decided that for the first time in 33 years I needed to find one that had no one else in it. So I started looking. la la la I wanted to be in town where I work or in the little nook that the bulk of the family and the bf (resulting in a huge chunk of time) live in. The nook is hard as there isn’t much that comes open by way of studio or 1 bedroom. In town is hard as the student population has Dad’s money (for the most part – I know some of them do it on their own) or work for high end foo foo companies that pay lots so they can afford to be raped each month. I fall into neither of these. Government pays well, except it shows up in the form of bennies. I need these, so I’m here until I find better money with decent bennies. Anyway, I’m getting long winded and I’m not even close to the point! So I come across two places in the nook. 1 of them happens to be owned by the roomie friend of 20+ years and the other is newly remodeled and spacious. I opt for newly remodeled and spacious for two reasons… First I am nothing if not practical. I realize that the boy may not think I’m that cool. Second, Roomie’s friend’s place may have been a shoe in except it was thee doors down (I hear the iPod clicking) from the bf. If something happens with him and it isn’t good I don’t need to be quite that close.


Here is where I get to the point (yay!!). Door #2 is a really cool space. The lady seems a tad eccentric (I sooooo should have known – always trust the gut and listen when anyone says anything negative) but I chalk it up to her zen-buddhist type religious and uber-liberal attitude. We meet and talk and email and reach an agreement. Cool, right? a-NO. I’m not even in the place completely – moving in on day 2 and I get the first call that I’m too loud with the coming and going. I am emailed about my invasion of her fung shuei space and disruption of her animals. (I haven’t even brought in all the boxes or completely unpacked… um, stopping, stopping now) And you’re having too many people over… hhhhmmmm This does not bode well. The next day is a note on the door. The dog barks anytime I walk in – so my normal hours are baaaad. (we all know I am not early to bed) and if my man (here we won’t use boy or bf… sounds dumb when you are talking about getting laid) cannot come over whenever I want to spend alone time with him… this is sooo not gonna be kosher, I mean fung shuei. So how do you insure you’re gonna get your deposit and better part of the rent back when you truly did nothing wrong? And what of the stress you now feel walking on fucking egg shells every time I’m at my own place? How do you tactfully and amicably say “what the fuck yo???”.


I have no clue tonight but I better figure it out quick like… The stress is eating me and I’m not havin it. I need some sleep and some sex and some sleep…………. and sex.

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This is my day x about 7000. I’m entering statistics for field mice… yup, field mice. You know these things are very important. Important enough that if I weren’t entering the data the professor’s assistant, that makes much more than I, would be entering them. Oh, yeah… he knows what these things mean and why the fuck we are entering hours and hours of data about *dramatic pause* field mice.


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Fortunately I have installed iTunes and am currently (well when I started this thing) listening to the old school punk channel that is likely driving co-workers batty. Maybe they can find the bats and study them. Maybe they can just determine if they are nesting in my brain or merely circling until they deem it safe to set up permanent residence.


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Have you ever noticed when faced with the mundane, like data entry, you tend to put the keystrokes in a pattern that makes a rhythm? You can immediately tell if you’ve screwed up by the sound. Then the bats start comin straight for your freakin head and you know you really fucked it all up because you disturbed their sleep. Maybe Christian Baile will come rescue me…. In that case….


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Today I heard a memory. I had this feeling in my heart of a song that an old friend played for me once. I used to beg him to play it for me all the time and for whatever reason he couldn’t seem to find it. I never knew the name of the song and I couldn’t understand the lyrics, but I loved it. I wanted to hear it again. Maybe it was the lyrics that kept him from playing it for me. We had that relationship… you know that relationship. the kind that isn’t really a relationship at all. More a friendship gone down a side-street that’s dark and windy and damp. I found that song today.


…And maybe someday I will say
I’ll say please, please
Don’t tear your heart from me
Cause it was a crime I never told about the diamonds in your eyes
It’s a crime I never told you about the diamonds in your eyes


And maybe someday we will be
Away with the wind we’ll go
By the sea we’ll float
And away with the wind we’ll go
A million miles away
And you’ll say maybe someday we will be
And you’ll say please please
Don’t tear your heart from me
Away with the wind we’ll go
By the sea we’ll float
Away with the wind we’ll blow
By the sea we’ll float
Down along the way
Down along the way


like I said, not the best lyrics… but maybe poignant at the time.


hhhmmm so many songs… I hear songs in my head for everything. It’s almost like the “soundtrack for your life game” where you take your iPod and put it on shuffle all. Then you have this list of questions in front of you that as you get to the question you hit the next button to see what the song is. What song, will be the soundtrack for that question. I have something like an iPod in my brain. My auditory cortex came complete with a digital recording device with mass amounts of storage…. Way more than the measly 160 gigs you can get on an iPod right now. My own personal shuffling system that reads my mood and senses what I need to hear in the depths of my despair or to kick my ass right out of it. What will I shuffle into next? My battery is low. Maybe I’ll see what happens after I plug it in.

Last night I spent some time with peeps that were long overdue to spend time with. It sucks how we let work, business, “having a bf/gf” get in the way of the friendships that sustain us through those periods when we have nothing in us to pull from. When the barrel is down to nothing. You don’t realize how quickly time passes… has it really been two years?? This is truly unacceptable. So many good memories that the bad ones have long since disappeared. Then there are the friends that it becomes easier to just “deal with it later”. The ones you don’t want to tell to their face the things they need to hear. When you’ve dropped the ball of friendship and you’re arms are tired for holding it up to inbound yet you still can’t do it… Even to save yourself. Fear is a mighty thing. Then there are the special someones… those rare shining lights you happen across in some out of the way time or place. That friend you just connect with. You spark a friendship that is very real, you have much in common and get along so easily, yet there’s third person force makes it impossible to be friends, at least on a 1 to 1 basis. The jealous other that is suspicious of even the most innocent of conversations. And still the connection remains. There is a hope always that the spark that made your friendship will keep glowing long enough to outlast the flame of the moment. I saw all these people and more last night. It was taxing, but so worth the time. I am thankful for my moments and my friends. I think I’ll get out my flint…

I have this gadget on my igoogle. It gives me a new Buddhist quote for everyday. I don’t read them everyday. Today I decided to read it and this was there:

Well, well, well….. it appears that all systems have been put on stand-by, I mean liquefy, I mean char. In my quest for shelter I stuck myself firmly under the wing of the overprotective mother. You know the type. The one that doesn’t let their child do any-thing. To the extent that it develops a slowness, an atrophy of sorts. The brain starts to shut down from lack of use. I used to complain at the sheer volume of work I had before, frustrated that my counterpart wasn’t picking up the slack. I’d be upset that I could only work 8 hours because, even with a week of 10’s it wouldn’t be done. There was stress. But I loved the satisfaction of it all… the feeling that you had done something good, that you had helped. I don’t help. I pull staples. I send mail and answer the phone 5 or less times a day. I make powerpoint presentations that are insanely amazing (probably because I have nothing better to do than look for pictures and put together animations). I order office supplies and postage. Don’t get me wrong, all of these functions are important. However, someone being paid considerably less, that needs to learn how the office works and how to function within a system of professional standards, should be doing these things. My brain is angry at me for letting it slowly leak out onto my pillow at night. Yes, I went from the belly of the beast to the bosom of the sow. Overpaid and under-nursed I take each task and look at it with anticipation. Hope, no, pray even, that it will contain the golden egg of challenge. But no. I will not venture out of the barn today. At least the hay is soft here. There is no evil snake screaming at me and trying to bite me in the ass every three minutes. I’m liked all around and appreciated for my over-achiever type work ethic. I’ll stop ranting now and enjoy the barn. It could be worse, I could be in the snake pit..

Remember that scene from A Clockwork Orange where he’s in the institution getting well and they’re showing him the pictures? You know, the one where they have that crazy freakin eye contraption propping his lids wide open so he can’t stop himself from watching the ultra-violence? I want one. Maybe it will train my eyes to stay open even when I’m tired or more accurately, bored. Absolutely the worst thing in the world is boredom. It leads to sadness, depression, anger and a host of other bad things I shouldn’t be dealing with right now. So I’m sleepy at my desk. Maybe just some toothpicks, I can prop them apart with those. That little pain thing will only increase the likelihood that I won’t doze off.


So a couple of things to rant about… it’s been a while and I feel the need to bitch about stuff completely unrelated to me. Okay, not completely, but you know what I mean.


The gov, Arnie, ye old governator, has decided it’s in our best interest to chop 4.5 billion (yes that’s BILLION with a “B”) dollars from education. Hhhmmmm does anyone else see a problem here? How does he expect to increase revenue with uneducated people in the next generation? And funny, it is statistically (I have also witnessed this firsthand given my former job) proven that the less educated, the more likely to commit crimes and abuse drugs. So guess what, dumb fuck…. we’ll be paying that 4.5 billion somehow so let’s do it on the front side for good, rather than the backside to clean up the shit. Who voted this ass clown into office?


I still hate uggs and skirts/shorts. Stupid drivers are running amuck and no body is stopping them, but they sure are giving out a bunch of tickets for turning left over a double yellow on local roads. And if it isn’t the Jameson, then Cadbury mini eggs will be the death of me.


Tomorrow is hump-day yay! That’s all for now.

All the art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.
~Havelock Ellis


I’m a brilliant fucking artist these days.

It seems the tide is ebbing. Even if just for a moment, I will enjoy the sun on the water and the peace shining on my face.


The cure for all things is salt water… sweat, tears or the sea. ~Isak Denison