10:27 a.m. - Tuesday, Apr. 08, 2008
Pups and Crocuses
I climbed out of the pit of despair and tucked away all the decorations from my pity party. Maybe I'll recycle them later, but later isn't Now.

And Now is not so bad at all.
The sun is high and bright and gold like honey, and the trees are starting to bloom.

The robins are singing, I have food in the freezer, and this morning I saw the silky purple heads spring's first crocuses emerging from my neighbor's mulch.

I come home and wash the kisses of the new black lab down the street off my hands. "Dakota's a puppy," the lady down the street apologized. "She's still hard to control, but she's very sweet."

I smile at her. "I can tell. She's very sproingy."

I love dogs.

What do I have to complain about? The world is waking up around me. I should proably wake up too.

7:24 a.m. - Friday, Mar. 07, 2008
Going Somewhere
I have a plan, but I still don't know where I'm going.

I have a schedule, but I still feel like time is slipping away from me.

I need to make more money. I need to finish my book. I need, I need, I want, but I have to set time aside to *live*. I'm not quite sure how to do it. Everyone says there's a trick to it.

I never thought I would miss being a cashier. But sometimes I do. I miss the people, the thousands of little stories day after day. I still get to talk with people on the network, yes, but I can't see them before me.

I don't miss the work itself. Or the low pay, or peeling hands and the smell of disinfectant.

Two days ago I found sandwhich nirvana. Well, it wasn't a sandwhich, it was a turkey wrap, but I sat on the broken couch eating it, and watching "Scariest Places on Earth" and I thought, this is heaven.

This wrap is the best thing I've eaten. Possibly ever. The texture, the combination of flavors, the creamy mayo- I savored every last bite, and watched about evil voodoo spirits.

Maybe I'm okay. Maybe it's all okay.

11:24 a.m. - Wednesday, Jan. 30, 2008
Lament of the Mad Cashier
Initiated into this world
of paper and plastic and coins,
of numbers that flash and dart
like little black fish under
the glass pond of the computer screen,
I feel like I'm drowning.

I don't care about your coupons, lady.
Take your bagged, twitching lobsters and stick them--
somewhere. I don't care where.

This constant beeping is driving me mad.

The scale weighs nothing, nothing,
and there are 500 different onions
with 600 different prices.

This is a special corridor of hell.
I have nightmares of people buying
twenty cases of cherry yogurt and deciding,
after I've rung them all,
that's not the flavor they want.

Now I understand what the rest of the world already knew about cashiering--

maybe I can get a transfer to the floral department?

11:23 a.m. - Monday, Jan. 14, 2008
Discordia Vow
From this day on I swear
to live in
cheerful
creative
tricky
sensual
CHAOS.
Or Not.
We'll see.

Discordia Links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Discordianism#Founding

http://altreligion.about.com/library/weekly/aa081402a.htm

http://www.discordian.com/

9:22 p.m. - Tuesday, Dec. 18, 2007
Do. Say. Am.

Suspended between today and tommorow
the world is a smooth, icy snowglobe
all around me.

Hard, glittering cold up to the knees.
Snow fills boots, my ankles turn red.
All the glinting lights reflecting off the white disorient me.

I wish I was a bear.
I could eat salmon and berries all day and I wouldn't need a job.
Sleep all winter, wrapped warm around myself.
But then, being shot by hunters probably isn't so nice.

So I'm left-handed and dyslexic,
which seems to affect everything
I do, say, think, am.

Huh.

Jackie Chan is awesome.
He can beat people up with nothing
but an empty stapler and a plastic
coat hanger.

Tummy full of fresh baked pizza,
scarfed in a dark parking lot with Mom
at the end of a long and lazy day
with people staring at us
because we're laughing so loud
and eating so much.

8:34 p.m. - Monday, Dec. 10, 2007
Meat and Metal
So restless, don't know what to do with myself.

So tired, I just want to be in my bed;
maybe thinking about how it was,
back then--

Childhood, the warm morning of life,
with nothing to do but learn and grow.
Exploring the worlds within, and without.

But even back then, I wanted this strange thing I couldn't name, couldn't explain.

It was something wild and sweeping,
some saga, some battle beyond dreams,
but not here. Not here. Nowhere.

I still can't stop looking for it.
I still don't really know what it is.
If I found it, would I even know it?

Right now, I just wish I had a hot tub and someone with warm fingers to rub my back.
But who am I kidding?
I would never let anyone that close.

Maybe I'm just afraid.
Afraid that I'm not strong enough to live in this world of meat and metal-
but I have to pretend I care about foodstamps and smashed bread and ripped coupons.

I ache for lost things,
though I never had them in the first place.

I wait for a familiar face to come through the doorway, but
it's a face I've never seen before,
a person I've never met.

I'm going to sleep.
Maybe in my dreams I'll be a cat or a hero or an angel or just someone's
pure and beautiful maiden--

not just a tubby girl in a stained bathrobe
with wet, unnaturally red hair
and a belly full of goulash.

2:21 p.m. - Saturday, Dec. 01, 2007
Technicolor Dream Earrings
Spicy black apples,
sardine scrambled eggs,
the breakfast of wierdo champions.

Job interview on Monday...
Need to pull myself together.
Clothes. Makeup. Teeth. Hairpins.
Check.

Bazaar at the Eastworks
dichroic glass earrings I couldn't afford but bought anyway.

They're pink and gold and blue and yellow and orance and purple-
Steff's technicolor dream earrings!
Will wear them to the interview.

Steak and chorizo burrito.
Naughty, naughty.
Greek cheese pie.
Tried a new sheep's cheese,
new and creamy.

Need to play less video games and do more work.

3:57 p.m. - Tuesday, Nov. 27, 2007
Azura's star
My pc's acting like a drunk sorority girl. I think Zone Alarm may be to blame.

The BND is right.
I have it easier than many people do, in many ways,
but as I said to him--
I bitch, therefore I am.

I'd rather give away the dagger of destruction, thanks.
Don't want to keep it for myself.
I'll save Azura's star, and Wabbajack.

So many daedra, so little time.
If they're gods, why can't they do any of this stuff themselves?

Perhaps I should have Lori visit the blood market instead of the tailor.
Bound to be more interesting.

It's bright out, shining on the hills.
They have swaths of brown and scarlet, still a little green in patches.

I never get tired of this view.

3:49 p.m. - Mon, Nov 26, 07
Pewter
Warmish rain and mist,
the day's etched with mellow silver and
a border of crisp dead leaves.

My eyes itch.
But I feel better.
Mom's home today and Sophie-hound
digs herself a little piglet nest on the couch.

At dusk, the world turns to dull pewter.
We all walk together,
smell the pine,
smile at the early x-mas decorations
that our neighbors have put out.
It's not even winter yet, people.

There is something whimsical, though,
about lighted icicles and candy canes and lamposts with shy little garlands.

5:42 p.m. - Sunday, Nov. 25, 2007
Sleeping Naked Wolves
Slept in too long- can't stop yawning.
Play Oblivion? Save Tamriel again?

Now regretting yesterday's
fried chicken orgy.

So tired. Nothing helps.
What am I doing?
Where am I going?
Why can't I get it together?

I need to winterize the car.
When are they open?

Eh, that message I left for Amber sounded kind of rambling and surly.
But she knows me.

Tasty hashbrown quiche!
Where does Mom come up with this stuff?
Add a little more paprika.

I did the dishes, but I didn't scrub the pots.

I illuminated the sylph with white acrylic, then outlined her in gray marker.

She should look
like she's stepping between the clouds.

Red riding hood- braintstorm:
naked, sleeping wolves
in the south
grannie off in her own
little 50's sitcom.
Good stuff.
Very good stuff.
See what she does with it.

Paint stuck on my fingernails again.
What else have I accomplished today?

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