Verbal Diarrhea

Facebook-Schmacebook

2007-05-31T14:15:00.000-07:00

Psssh!
What's the point? Make connections?
I think most people have trouble even maintaining the connections they already have.
So the point really becomes poking into the lives of others via pictures.
That disturbs me. I realize it's probabaly JUST me that it disturbs.

I've had conversation recently with some folks (you know who you are) about Facebook.
In fact, it's the total buzz right now. Fine. Buzz away. I can't do it.
I can't spend my time looking for people from my past. If you know me, you know that I already waist enough of my time thinking about the past and don't need an excuse to do it some more.

FYI: "Past" can be a noun, an adjective or a preposition but "Passed" is always a verb.
(I have to continually say this to my brain so that I don't confuse the two - sometimes I do anyway)

So, if you see me on facebook, you'll know that I cracked and have begun to look up all the boys I had crushes on in elementary or high school. I did have another paragraph about my adult crushes but I'll save that for another day.

:P

a night's question

2006-10-17T20:06:00.000-07:00

I think I'll ask the angels why humankind is so discontent.
I mean, we're here. We don't really know what direction we should go in.
Sometimes we take the advice of friends, family. Other times we take advice from the collective philosophy of our time, our cultural philosophy. Maybe we take advice from our religious philosophy.

please don't anyone say: "you just need a deeper relationship with Jesus"

I'm beyond that. Yes, a deep relationship with Jesus, the Holy Spirit and the Creator are all good.
More than good. Desparately necessary in my opinion.
But the fact is, we don't really know anything. We're all just choosing to believe and live in a certain way.
It's really just a philosophical choice.

Okay, so if it's philosophical, why do I want to ask the angels anything. Why do I still need answers?

Because I do. I live and breathe and I need to know.

What am I being prepared for if my whole physical exsistance is based on choices of faith?
Choices that at times I'm sure of, maybe even certain. Then other times, I'm completely lost.
I'm lost even when I'm choosing to follow what I believe.

Then my brain said: "Go to sleep child"
Rest for the morining brings perspective to balance the heavy questions of night

Look, it's a new post!

2006-10-12T20:23:00.000-07:00

Six months of blog-rest and I'm ready to go!

Greetings!
Hello,..is anybody out there? (to be sung to the tune of Comfortably Numb)

My creative juices are not running well enough yet so I've stolen Richards blog concept (which was apparently prompted by Robin).

1. One Book that changed your life:
The Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

2. One book you've read more than once:
The Robber Bride by Margaret Atwood

3. One book you'd want on a desert island: (note: not the ONLY book)
Amphigoreyey by Edward Gorey

4. One book that made you laugh:
Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus by Dr. John Gray

5. One book that made you cry:
Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes

6. One book that you wish had been written:
The one that tells me what I'm going to do when I grow up.

7. One book that you wish had never been written:
The Act of Marriage by Tim LaHaye (I love it when he tells women what is supposed to please them sexually)

8. One book you're currently reading:
er...does In Style magazine count? what about my Management Accounting text?? the Bible???

Ok, the most recent novel-type work was Crooked Path (a short story by Tim Lappala)

9. One book you've been meaning to read:
The Iliad by Homer

10. Now tag people.
Uh,..tag you're it!

1999...

2006-05-19T21:07:00.000-07:00

..the song, you know, Prince? It's playing on the online "radio".

Mr. Bloggy is a little dusty.

Remember when it was 1999? My life was so different then. And 1996? or 2? Wow.
Life seems to be a series of loosing and gaining different identities for me.
I can't imagine that everyone feels this way...so compartmentalized about time periods in their life.
Maybe that's stupid. Everyone, do you feel that way?

What is the thread that remains "Sylvia"?

Thought-train switch (but not really):

On my coffee breaks at work, I've started reading Albert Camus' essay on the Myth of Sisyphus. Sisyphus was a man sentenced to roll a boulder up a hill, then down again for eternity. The essay explores the question of suicide. I read about this essay in high school when I was studying Hemingway's The Old Man and The Sea.

(Playing with the Queen of Hearts, Juice Newton is now playing - I'm on a trip to my childhood)

Anyway, the point about reading the essay was simply that I still get off on philosophy, and the history of thought and the history of religious belief/spirituality and the history of music and food and art and anything else that is sensory....

Humanity is bizarre, and being human myself is even more bizarre. It is my passion to learn about what moves us. This I will pursue endlessly until I die, regardless of what my current identity is.

That's the thread.

Calm and Sweet Serenity

2006-02-27T21:50:00.000-08:00

It's hard but I'll try.

Thing is, I really have precious little to say:

1. Right now, I'm tired, it's 12:45am and I have to be at work early and THEN I have to be fresh and alert to get smoked by all those Barbie-stick-teenage-keeners in Accounting (and did I mention this is at LU and there just should't be so many teenagers on campus?)

2. I had a bad, BAD, HORRIBLE, STRESS-LADEN, CRAP of an afternoon at work today :)

3. MY RENT IS DUE AND I HAVE NO MONEY :)

4. I EAT TOO MANY BAGS OF CHIPS!!!!!

5. MY CAT (7mo old kitten actually) riped open a bag of cat litter, spread it about the livingroom and poo-ed and pee-ed in it!!!!!!!

6. Ok, that last one didn't happen today, BUT IT WAS AWFUL NONETHELESS

7. AND, on top of all this,...did I mention I'm tired and have nothing to say?

Calgon, take me away from Accounting!

2006-01-30T16:55:00.000-08:00

Anyone who lived through the 80's should remember the "calgon take me away" commercials...
Oh, I like accounting alright, just don't like having to think so much outside of work. Poor Sylvia's eyes get tired.

So, this blog is dedicated to Nicole and anyone else who wants to eat this delicious little snack!

SYLVIA'S MAGIC BACON ELIXER
"It'll cure what ales you, and if there's nothin' aling you, well, it'll cure that too!"
(yes, I stole that from Abe Simpson - sort of)

Bacon if you're Achin' (and even if you're not)

whole water chestnuts (2 cans)
1pkg bacon (maple smoked or something sweet is yummy)
soy sauce (uh, maybe 2 table spoons, or was it 3?)
rice vinegar (if you have it - if not, it's ok without)
brown sugar (1 or 2 heaping table spoons)
2 cloves of minced or pressed garlic

- Marinate water chestnuts for 2-3 days in soy sauce, rice vinegar, brown sugar and garlic (turn once in a while)
- When ready to roast, pre-heat oven to 400
- cut bacon strips into thirds
- wrap around chestnuts, use toothpicks soaked in water to secure
- bake for ?? until the bacon is cooked, 20 min? I never pay attention cause I'm always at a party when I'm baking these

Fat 2006

2006-01-07T20:34:00.000-08:00

And that's not "phat" in case someone thought I was trying to be cool.
In fact, by saying that I'm sure I date my self and therefore look "un-cool".

Ruth says that I'm not mentally ill after all. She says that it's normal to think about food constantly. I was under the impression that most people didn't read cookbooks on a daily basis. Furthermore, I find that I'm usually the one to bring up mouth-watering appetizer in a discussion. Even if the discussion was about Hockey or Politics. Tim would argue that I would just prefer to change topic if it were in fact, about hockey. Ruth does make a good point about the Food Channel. Why else would one exist if there aren't other obsessed gourmets out there?

Ok, enough of what Ruth and Tim say.

I'm interested to know if someone has an explanation for the following lyrics:

"You flash your bedroom eyes like a jumpin' jack
Then play it pretty with a pat on the back"

(Armageddon It, Def Leppard - Hysteria)

Some of you know that I once loved this album (still do actually). However, I now giggle furiously at it's lyrics.
I have to remember this is also the album with "Pour Some Sugar On Me" - what the heck is that?

Moving on....

My newest song is called: "I shot myself today"
I wrote it over the holidays. That should say something.
Something like: THE HOLIDAYS SUCK!!
Ok, but really, the song is also partially inspired by a suicide story told to me by a co-worker accompanied by his own theories on the spiritual fate of suicide victims.

This leads me to my next question: when does grace end? before death? upon death? is there room for grace AFTER death? Can we prove this? (of course not, but what are the arguments)

Ponder this, world-of-blog.
Goodnight.

It's time

2005-12-18T19:28:00.000-08:00

Time for a new post.

So, I've been paying more attention to song lyrics lately.
I usually pay attention, but it seems to be more acute right now.
The writer/song writers group I'm in has inspired me to work my craft and stretch and grow.
So thank you writer/song writers for your contribution.

I found some Peter Gabriel lyrics that particularly turn me on (thanks to Ben Harper's supreme cover version)
The song is called "In Your Eyes". I'll let you go look them up instead of boring you all with posting more lyrics.
Ben Harper does a lot of covers. Some songs are so different that the original you'd hardly know they were even covers.
He really makes them his own and yet they continue to be just as great as the original. This is of course a testimony to his talent. Anyway, bravo to Ben.

There is a big part of me that wants to just give up on ordinary life and run desperately toward a career in music.
I will continue to fantasize about this while I enjoy my FIRST PAID CHRISTMAS BREAK!!!! YEAH!!!! (pumps arm like a kid asking a Truck driver to honk).

Back to music. You know, there's so much out there. So much good stuff. How can one get to hear it all?
I know, I know, you pick and choose. But I don't wanna!!! I want it ALL!!! I want to dive into music like I dive into Lake Superior, and let the cold refreshing water heal my soul!!! I want to play in it all day long like I did as a child at camp.
(and by camp, I mean cottage for you southerners)

Back to reality (hey, that's a song), I must work to survive. If only I made oodles of money and had 6 months vacation per year :)

Happy pre-Christmas week all!

tripping out on my new speakers

2005-12-06T16:12:00.000-08:00

Sounds are beautiful.

I love that sounds heal us, make us think...

Not just musical sounds.

The sound of a voice, or of moving water,..

Musical sounds can sometimes convey expressions of our soul that we couldn't otherwise confess.

The sound waves that we interpret as music are pleasing to the soul AND the body.

Thinking about the inter-connectedness of the physical and spiritual.

Sound received in specific increments can be interpreted as rhythm.

Rhythm inspires feeling and action: excitement, sex...

Sometimes I am bewildered by life and being human.

No I am not on drugs right now.

Subwoofers are grand.

Johnny Cash & Joaquin Phoenix

2005-11-23T22:25:00.000-08:00

Ok, I'm not the first to have done this but whatever,.. Read these lyrics:

I hurt myself today
to see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
the only thing that's real
the needle tears a hole
the old familiar sting
try to kill it all away
but I remember everything
what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

I wear this crown of thorns
upon my liar's chair
full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
beneath the stains of time
the feelings disappear
you are someone else
I am still right here

what have I become?
my sweetest friend
everyone I know
goes away in the end
and you could have it all
my empire of dirt

I will let you down
I will make you hurt

if I could start again
a million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way

The good thing (or maybe the bad thing) about us art-sies is that when we get passionate, fire bursts forth from our souls.
Fire, as we all know, is good when you wanna be warm and bad when you need to live in that house you've just burnt down..

Yeah, anyway...go to JohnnyCash.com if you wanna listen to the music I'm listening to right now.

Go see "Walk The Line"
The film has certainly inspired me to listen to more Johnny Cash.
Thanks for the great performance Joaquin! (Reese you were pretty good too!)

Drinking Salsa by the Gallon

2005-10-25T19:58:00.000-07:00

That's what I do with my weeknights: consume massive amounts of salsa.
It's my new addiction. Right now, it's the only thing that makes me deliciously happy.
(Even the description combines more than one of the senses consequently heightening the experience)

A friend of mine raised a challenge to me recently: to write a novel in 30 days.
(a crap novel, but a novel nonetheless)

My first reaction echoed my inner monologue: "I am not capable of writing a novel! Are you on crack?"
Then idea began growing on me. In fact, I find myself thinking about it frequently.
It will most certainly be crappy, but it will be mine.

One of my ideas includes the main character recalling a time when (she/he?...Not telling) was deliciously happy.
[make sure to dwell on "deliciously" when reading]

Delightfully pleased, wildly passionate with spectacular feelings of excitement on which one's senses endlessly feast,....
And now, nothing.
(the nothing part is my life - not that of my character)

How sad that I feel that my life could not possibly include this delicious happiness anymore.
(unless it came in a jar with cilantro and jalapenos)

Dear Blog

2005-10-06T20:04:00.000-07:00

I hate taking out the garbage. I hate it alot.
I hate that I have a dirty filthy house. It makes me depressed and literally sick.
And I'm too depressed to clean it. I'm too depressed in general. Everything sucks.
I hate everything. So there.

k, got the complaining outta the way.

so I got a new kitten and a new computer :)

uh, let's see what else....hmmmm, I really want to go out for a beer and some nachos.
and preferably not by myself.

it's 11:13pm, if you're reading this blog and want to drink beer and eat nachos with me, give me a call ASAP.

yup. great blog.

this won't make sense to you

2005-09-28T22:25:00.000-07:00

I don't know why I'm blogging right now.
Can't sleep. Things on my mind.
I'm usually a good sleeper. Head hits pillow and I'm out. Not tonight.

I'm not going to tell you any details (cause this is the internet).

So why blog at all? I guess I think I"m going to find some therapy in this - even though I"m revealing nothing.
(nothing but the fact that I can't sleep because of stuff I'm thinking about)

It's not even to do with my life - or it hasn't been to do with my life in a while.
I got hit with a bit of a bombshell tonight.

Thank goodness for good friends.
(you know who you are)

Epitaph for a Dog

2005-08-30T20:19:00.000-07:00

My uuu ("uuu" would be pronounced "ooo" for folks who speak English)
It was a nick name derived out of several other nicknames:
Uudy, Roo, Rudy Rudowski or just plain Rudy (spoken in a slightly high-pitched, Finnish accent baby voice)

Rudy passed away unexpectedly on Sunday August 14, 2005.
She was actually my mom's dog in the end - but she started out as mine. We picked up Rudy from some shady place on the "other" side of town in May of 1993.
She was the prettiest puppy of the bunch. Rudy was always getting compliments on her good-looks.
When we first picked her up, she had a bit of a sore tummy from the moose-meat sausages her owners were bbq-ing...
for 5 week old puppies!!! (these people were most certainly on crack).

Rudy was no ordinary dog. She was highly sensitive..and could almost say "out" when she wanted to go outside.
Rudy was more affectionate than other dogs I've known. She liked to cuddle and get hugs; even from rowdy kids she hadn't seen before. She was gentle but also very excitable. Definately a type-A personality.

Like most dogs however, Rudy loved to eat people-food!! Oh! the teary eyes she would conjure up to get just one lick of a dinner plate. She would wiggle her snout under your arm, rest her chin on your knee and look up at you pathetically.
She would doggie-speak ever so softly to melt your heart. We taught her some tricks; some she figured out on her own.
She could dance and speak and howl on command.

She would obediently go down to the basement when told in finnish: "Mommy is going to the store"
Even until her dying day, she played ball enthusiastically in her back yard.

Rudy will be greatly missed.

Morning Blog Part 1

2005-07-23T07:37:00.000-07:00

Does anyone blog in the morning? Am I making an ass out of u and me by assuming most are night-bloggers or mind-sayers?

What is it about the middle of the night (or technically morning) that allows us to reveal more vulnerable aspects of ourselves? The fact that most others are sleeping? Somehow this makes us feel safe enough to reveal intimate things? There certainly is something surreal about 4 o'clock in the morning - like the world has stopped and you're the only one still going.

Don't know where that came from except that this is the first time I've blogged in the morning.

This morning I felt like a spy. Rauni and I went to the Scandi for breakfast(yum).
I recognized two people (although they would not know me). I knew something scandalous (haha - scandalous at the scandi) about their situation. It was facinating to observe these two people and the tention that was about them. One was and employee and the other a patron.

Anyway, I better go do some laundry and straighten out my messy house.

pants and food and stuff

2005-07-07T18:36:00.000-07:00

I was told not to wear pants to work anymore.
No, I do not dance and skip naked on a stage for a living.

It's blistering hot at work. I work in an office, with a computer. I'm going to ruin my keyboard with all the sweat that pours from my hands...oh well, I could use a new keyboard...
Tomorrow, I should wear a speedo and bring a sprinkler.
And maybe one of those yellow strips of plastic that kids used to slide on in the early 80's

Earlier, while singing along with Cindy Lauper's "All Through The Night", I made mashed potatoes for a man who had recently lost his teeth. I didn't sing it very well. But the potatoes turned out alright.

I need an excuse to make a dip. For two weeks I've been waiting to make a certain dip with chick peas, cream cheese, grated cheese, more cheese on top of cheese, some sour cream and tomatoes and green onions sprinkled on top to give the illusion of "healthy". GIVE ME A REASON!

I must be in love with food. Not people.

26 Days Of Silence

2005-07-04T17:47:00.000-07:00

Much like my journals, this blog seems to see only the ups and the downs, not the in-betweens, or the too-busies.

Today was a fantastic ordinary day - my first day in a "new" job.

Ordinary because it's what I've done for years. And fantastic, because I finally have job security.
I have returned to a department I worked in for over seven years (with the exception of the last seven months). I have my own desk, my own cushy chair, my own filing dråwer, my own head set (yay!)
Job-seeking this past year has been such a burden on my mind. Peace is upon me.

So, the reason I'm even writing today: I'm currently eating a bag of chips. I was recently reminded of my "Bag of Chips" post. I guess I was also prompted by some avid readers of Verbal Diarrhea (ok, maybe avid is too strong of a word). Back to the chips...
The crispy ripple chip, yearned to be coated in the rich, freshly made sour cream and herb dip.
THE CHIP MADE ME DO IT!!!!!!!

Wow. Somebody has an addiction.
The first step is recognizing the problem, the next step is eating a bag of chips...uh, I'm obviously not ready to quit. It takes time. I wish they had a patch for chip-addiction. Or maybe some chipper-ette gum. They could call it The Chip (brilliant). You could put it under your tongue and crunch on it when feeling a chip-fit coming on.

More important things:
Does any body wanna be my roommate?? I desparately love my appartment which I cannot afford. I get really bitter when I force myself to consider finding a more affordable place. In fact, I'm going to stop thinking about it because it's ruining my fantastic ordinary day.

Oh, I can't stop thinking abou† it. My home has been such a haven for me. The bright morning sun keeps a naturally depressed finnish girl from ultimate doom. The view from my balcony refreshes my soul. The balcony is also my favourite place to read in the summer. My bedroom with its slate blue walls and stained-glass window are a comfort any time of year. My bathtub would clearly be better with jets but I can have everything I want now can I?

nice little bloggy

2005-06-07T16:31:00.000-07:00

Just when I'm pissed off, somebody goes and takes me to the freaking art gallery.

psssh! Now I'm supposed to NOT be pissed at the world! grrr!
Ok, seriously here, I really enjoyed the art gallery this evening.
Thunder Bay highschool art was on display - it was impressive. Beyond their apparent mastery of the craft, they displayed strong social commentary (which I always like).

There was one particular piece which held my gaze for a while - I was almost sad to leave it. It was called "A Prayer Before the House of Ghosts" (Mariann Nicolson).
(pausing while I google the artist)

Ok, well I couldn't find the actual piece online but I found other stuff about her work
here and here.

I really enjoy the history and symmetry of aboriginal art.

FTW

2005-06-06T19:12:00.000-07:00

F the world. That's what it stands for. If you can't handle it, don't read my blog.

Most of my life I have used the F word extensively. When I say most, at this point I mean about 2 thirds of it. I like the F word. It rolls out with a punch every time. I dwell on the final k with joy as a speak it.

It's rather funny to me that most of my readers won't have heard me say it much. Some of you have never heard me say it. So there, now I have confessed.

I guess I'm saying all this because I'm f-ing angry right now. I want to say a big F you to all the world. Hey, you out there,..F you!..ah what release. I have expressed my anger.

This is very interesting to me because it's basically mirroring a book that I'm reading. It is the journal of a Catholic Priest/Psychologist/Philosopher living in a monastic community for a period of time. Just to clarify, this guy is not facinated with speaking the F-word, he's just angry at the world.
(or at least he was for a brief period in June of 1974)

Aside:
In June of 1974 I was about 9 months old. I don't recall wanting to tell the world to F-off at that point in my life.

Back to 2005. Do you know what devastation and failure I have felt over the last eight years of my life? No, you don't. Feel free to judge me right now. In fact, I'd love it if you did.

(I have deleated a paragraph that was far too dark for a public blog such as this)

I am a bag of chips (or as the English say: crisps)

2005-05-18T17:22:00.000-07:00

Mother is a boiled potato, Travis, a pizza pie, Miriam, a glass of pop and Juliet a Cheerio.
Tim is a cracker with cheese, Richard a cup of coffee and my cat, seafood vittles.

What?! We are what we eat right? And for some it just happened to be the last memory I had of you eating or drinking something. For others, it was what food/drink my brain connected you with.

So, about me and the bag of chips:
From my seat, right now I can see three empty or half -eaten bags of chips on my left, one on my right and if I turned around completely, I would see yet another behind me, resting on the CDs. Oh, yeah and I wonder why I'm fatter than the Christmas calf!

Well, I'd like to think I have something interesting to say tonight but alas, I don't.

Toodles Bloggy

Put a sock in it yo

2005-05-16T16:32:00.000-07:00

I'm sick of blog.
Blogs only say what we want people to know about. Sometimes I want people to hear my inner monologue before I've cushioned it.
I suppose there are times when I am able to speak the inner voice. Other times I am not.
This balance is what most would call a good thing.

Hmmmm.

I had a dream that I was leaving work with a colleague. I asked for a ride - he agreed.
Outside it was like "Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow" with black and white perfect streets and spots of colour for effect. However, the car borrowed was a 2005 - not a 1950.

On the way home he said: "Just drop me at home and you can borrow my car"
I agreed and then spent the rest of the evening giving rides home to all the Chinese people I knew.

I woke up to my alarm this morning in a panic - thinking I had forgotten to return my co-worker's car!

After relaying the dream to the person involved he asked: "Are you stressed about something?"

Why YES. Yes I am. Always.
(this was merely my inner monologue answering - my other voice said something far more trivial)

M O N E Y.

I try to not be stressed about it. I try not to get angry. I try to think positive and make active improvements. But lets face it, it don't go away. And Mama's gonna go ta da crazy house pretty soon where she be eatin' up all da biscuits and gravy!
(snip-snap, snippity-snap)

Mama need some sugar! Mama no wanna be all put up in dat crazy house!
(waves large hand in circular motion; pointer finger extended)

And right now, sugar = vacation with no worries on her back - and I mean none.

Ok, I was going to end the blog right there, but I must go on. I've now inspired my own insanity!!

I want to grab arm-loads of cash and run down Red River Road naked, screaming:
"MONEY!! I've got some MONEY!!
(throws wads of cash into the air in wild abandon)

Whoa. Time to end the blog before you all send the people with the white jackets.

Apparitions of your soul

2005-05-09T19:52:00.000-07:00

It's funny how the past continues to visit, morphing into fairy tales with ghost-like impressions.

"Funny" really isn't the word for it.
Peculiar, haunting maybe.

I feel paralysed - trapped between historic reality and historical fiction. It's as if my life is a myth; a legend passed down and changed slightly each time the tale leaves the lips of the teller. The gist of the story remains regardless of which details are spoken.

Nothing makes sense today.

"Every moment marked with apparitions of your soul" is a line from a Sarah Mclaughlin song: "Do What You Have To Do" from Surfacing.

It's my blog and I'll cry if I want to.

2005-05-03T18:09:00.000-07:00

PMS hit like Hiroshima on my way home - wounding many, killing some.

Ok, well I actually didn't come into contact with a whole lotta folks, aside from the patrons and staff of Mac's on Oliver & High. There I purchased healing in the form of chips and a froster.
Diet-schmiet.

Fat forever - here I come!
Man, this sure was the week for me. Self-esteem = 0, Body-Image - down the drain, Self-Worth - out the window. Uh, are blogs meant to be this depressing?
(note to self: never blog when PMS-ing)

Oh forget it. You know, depression is a big part of my life. I should embrace it whole-heartedly and, and,..uh I don't know where I'm going with this. See, "Verbal Diarrhea" is a very fitting title for my blog.

Ok, I actually wrote that a few days ago and just didn't get to post it.
I'm feeling a whole lot better today. I enjoyed the morning sun over coffee, conversation and some damn good homefries. M and E and me went yard-sale-ing today (almost spelled it yard sailing). It was my maiden voyage. I was a yard sale-ing virgin. Alas, I am no longer.
I didn't expect to find anything of interest, but I came home having replaced a few CDs I once had stolen AND I bought the tealights I've been wanting but couldn't afford. Papaya and Guava scented. Oh how heavenly! I can't wait to have a bath, light those babies and listen to some sad sad Sarah Mc.

Ok, it's time for me to go clean my favourite apartment in the world.

Cheers bloggy

Memoirs of a Pop Music Junkie

2005-05-02T17:22:00.000-07:00

I feel great joy welling up within my soul when I listen to some good ol' 80's tunes.
(and if I knew in the 80's that I'd be referring to them as "good ol'" - well, let's just say: ick)

Def Leppard, Hysteria.
I saw the CD out of the corner of my eye, whilst shopping yesterday.
I grabbed it (as if it were about to run for it's own life) and raced t'ward the line of cashiers.
I tried to hide my shame from the 15-year-old at the till.
(what the hell does she care – the guy in front of me bought AC/DC Back In Black)
Placing it in my Audrey Hepburn bag, I left the store feeling like I had stolen hidden treasure!
I just couldn't help but savor the memory I have of myself at 14, dancing around with my air guitar on a sunny Saturday morning.
(reader asks: "is this woman on crack?")

I think I will entitle my biography "Memoirs of a Pop Music Junkie"
Oh, and get over it you hard-core Leppard fans! It's POP. What's "rock" anymore anyway?
(btw: I will most likely never have a biography)

Since I brought it up:
Does anyone out there envision that their life has such interest that someday, an eager young writer will discover them and passionately construct a prize-winning book about them?
Or better yet,. a young director will make the movie?

Oh shut up. I know you've had the thought.

Sweet dreams bloggy.

Do you hang on to all of your textbooks?

2005-04-30T19:30:00.000-07:00

Yes, I do.
I may need them to prove a point someday, or perhaps to look up all the stuff that I forgot about Psychology, Music, or anything else I've studied (with the exception of Education).

So, what are you doing tonight? Other than reading this blog?

This is my first kick at the blog-can. This whole phenomenon is puzzling to me. Therefore I decided to try it myself. Some have said: "It's a great way to express freely"
(shrugs skeptically)
I suspect that this blog will force me to communicate messages "without telling you what I'm *really* saying. Or perhaps I will have this sense of freedom, and I will offend you all...
(smiles coyly)

Ok, well today sucked cause I had to work. It's Saturday. Yuck. My body doesn't like working on Saturday's. I puked when I got home. Seriously. I think it was the onion rings. Oh well.
On thursday I started a diet. Well not really, just made a commitment to avoid fast-food, pop etc. In addition, I was to begin a regular exercise schedule. Having eaten a McBreakfast and a Burger King-puke-lunch, and done nothing but sit all day, has left me with feelings of guilt and disappointment.

Tomorrow is a new day. I shall not give up!

Very much enjoyed the Worship Conference I went to this afternoon (between working overtime). Feeling inspired about churchy things.

Goodnight bloggy blog.