nature and graveyards

Last weekend I had to take a detour from my normal route to mama's house because of roadwork, and I discovered that my usual route was a lot closer to Chautauqua wine country than I thought! I also saw some beautiful abandoned houses and country cemeteries. I had the cats with me last weekend, so this weekend I decided to take the drive without them, so that I could stop as much as I wanted without having to deal with kitty bitching.

It rained the entire way. I kind of loved it. Colorful leaves, crazy turbulent skies, creepy abandoned buildings, and FOUR country graveyards. Such an awesome road trip.

I've never met a graveyard that I didn't want to explore, and the route I took had so many half-hidden little country graveyards. None of them had much of a plan - graves would face every which way, with the only organization being among family members. Graves from the 1920s and 1930s would be right next to graves from the mid-1800s, and many of the gravestones were tumbled and illegible. Two of the graveyards were on bluffs overlooking rivers on much lower ground. One graveyard was just a tiny strip on the side of a road. One graveyard had obviously not been cared for in several years.

Abandoned buildings tend to scare me a lot more than graveyards. I understand rationally how they come about (someone dies or moves away and no one wants their house, or the bank takes the house and then leaves it to rot, a congregation decides that they need a bigger church, or they join forces with another congregation), but my horror-fed imagination conjures up grisly murder scenes, hauntings... any awful reason why such beautiful buildings would be unclaimed after so long. And I always expect to see faces peering at me from broken windows while I take pictures.

Gone Girl

I can't stop listening to this song. I owned the album, and then I was delighted to hear it over the end credits of The Walking Dead video game:

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Last night I went with my book club and a few others to see David Fincher's movie Gone Girl. It was one of the better book-to-movie adaptions that I've seen, and while he wasn't my first choice for Nick Dunne, Ben Affleck made me a believer by the end. I was behind Rosamund Pike 100% from the beginning, because I adore her and have for years. In my opinion, she is the perfect Amy Dunne, and the best thing about the movie. Well worth seeing.

Creepy good.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I woke up in full grump mode, due to lack of good sleep and general restlessness. It's hard when you feel like you need to be away from people, but you can't call in grumpy to work. I just try to lay low until I can get to a Resident Evil marathon and imagine how cathartic it would be to be able to destroy all of the zombies.

Fuck off, zombies.

  

CAN is messed in the head

I was getting ready to leave my apartment for work yesterday, and when I opened the kitchen blinds for the cats, I saw Creepy Asshole Neighbor sitting in his yard, very obviously waiting for me. My first thought was, "Oh fuck, not at 8 AM!" I really do hate confrontation. And he's been going off the deep end lately, yelling from inside his house about me, so that I'll hear him while I'm leaving for work.

It still confuses me so much that he thinks I open my kitchen blinds to stalk him and stare into his bedroom... while I'm at work all day.

I steeled myself for his yelling fit and left the house, ready to tell him to leave me alone for the 50th time.

And he asked me to sign a petition stating that he was a good neighbor.

Can you imagine being brazen enough to ask that of someone you've been yelling at and terrorizing, on and off, for over a year? The audacity!

I was already in fight-or-flight mode, so all I said was, "No, you bother everyone! Don't talk to me." And then I walked away while he shouted, "That's OK, you're only the second person I asked."

Once I got away from him and calmed down a little bit, I had so many questions:

• Why did he have a petition? 
• Did he draw it up himself to prove some sort of a point to someone, or is it police- or court-ordered? (Can they order that sort of thing?) 
• Did the first person sign the petition? 
• Will anyone else? 
• Is he dumb enough to ask the woman on the block who has a restraining order against him? 

I almost wish I had asked to see the petition before I said no. Because I honestly have no idea what CAN is trying to accomplish. I would have been able to tell if he'd written it himself, because I know his writing style, due to the large chalkboard sign he propped up in his yard this spring:

I'm not allowed to have my windows open EVER, whether I'm home or not!

Nothing much

THESE ARE THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW!

I can't seem to stop watching TV, and by "TV," I mean DVDs of TV shows. And I am all over the place - The X-Files, season 9; Scandal, season 2; Buffy, season 7; Pushing Daisies, season 1; Wonderfalls. I want to watch TV, TV, more TV. ALL the TV. Well, no reality TV. Never.

And all of my shows will be starting up soon - The Blacklist (I can forgive so much for James Spader), Sleepy Hollow, The Vampire Diaries, The Originals.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I feel like I need to start packing in as many fall activities as I can, because everyone is going on and on (and on) about winter coming early this year. Snow before Halloween! Higher gas bills! Whatever, I have tons of throws and two cats to keep me warm, but I do want to make sure I get in my long fall walks and pumpkin beer.

*~*~*~*~*~*

I think I've blasted all of the evil fleas to hell with an insanely expensive combination of pills that kill fleas immediately and treatments that keep the fleas away. And we're all so much happier for it. Floyd has even started randomly attacking things again.

the summer that wasn't

I know, summer isn't really officially over, but I'm calling it. This summer kind of sucked.

My poor mom has been battling with some kind of skin condition, after she had a bad reaction to a prescription that she first got (and immediately stopped taking) in May. She's been to her doctor several times, and to Urgent Care - and she found out that she's allergic to sulfa antibiotics. On Sunday I had to drive her to Urgent Care, her second visit, because her hands had gotten so bad again. And the rest of her skin has been itchy and peeling, all summer long, which has affected her sleep, and her comfort in general. Poor mama.

And my brother has gotten temporary full custody of his youngest daughter. He and mom have been dealing with all of the hearings and meetings all summer. Messy, messy, messy, and I saw some of the fallout last week.

I have been battling fleas for a solid two months. My brother's dog has them, so now my cats have them. I have tried so many things before finally settling on a combination of diatomaceous earth powder for the floors and furniture, and Dawn dish soap for cat baths. And then last night I came home from a weeklong vacation, cats in tow. And there were fleas EVERYWHERE, all over the floors, attacking my ankles. I threw down so much DE powder that all of my floors and furniture are white with it. And tonight I'll be treating the cats with pills that kill the fleas instantly, along with a treatment to keep the fleas from coming back, and I have to clean the floors and wash my bedding. I know my problems aren't as major as my mom's or my brother's, but dammit, I'm sick of this shit. And I WILL WIN!

But hey, it's almost fall.

Ferguson, MO

What has been dominating my thoughts this week.

sweet dreams

The other night, I was so tired, and I was in bed at a reasonable hour, cozy, ready to drift right away... and then I started to think about a nightmare that I had as a child. And, after all these years, it still creeped me out mightily.

There wasn't even much to the dream - not much action, no gore or sudden scares. I was walking on a very bright, sunny summer day, and I came upon a house with a gigantic pine tree in the front yard. The area under the tree was large and cave-like, and the sunlight was so starkly bright that I was blinded when I went under the tree. There was an antique porcelain doll leaning against the tree trunk.

I suddenly started having flashes of terror and dread, a murdered girl, a ghost under the tree. It was like the entire world was haunted; I couldn't move from the darkness under the tree. I didn't know what the ghost could actually do to me, but it wasn't even a question of that - I was paralyzed with fear, and I wasn't even clear on whether the fear was actually mine or not. Maybe I was the one who was haunted.

Then I woke up.

And that's the whole dream. And it has stuck with me for over 25 years. To this day, I feel uneasy in the noonday sun, when there aren't deciduous trees around for "regular" tree shade. I feel uneasy when I see pine trees with little, dark "caves" underneath them, where grass doesn't grow.

Don't even get me started on porcelain dolls.

the PLAGUE

Summer plagues are the worst.

Last Wednesday I was enjoying a Sam Adams Latitude 48 IPA (I don't usually buy Sam Adams, but it was given to me by someone who wouldn't drink it, so yay, free beer!). I had only a few sips before I started to feel completely bizarre. My throat got scratchy, my nose started running, I started sneezing. I thought I was having an allergic reaction to one of the 5 hops (5! 5 hops!) mentioned on the beer label.

But it has lingered. And it has moved around.

Have you ever felt itchy on the top of your lungs? That's where I am right now, and it's truly awful. And instead of helping, the summer heat seems to be baking it in.

So that's what I'm up to.

summer fun

I just got through the very busy part of work, and then a long weekend for July 4th, and now I finally get to have some Buffalo summer fun! It's been hard driving around the city, seeing so many others enjoy patios, porches, outdoor concerts, and the like, when I had to be responsible and go to bed somewhat early. I missed Sam Roberts at the end of June, because I was working long days. Oh, sadness and woe.

But tomorrow I get to see Fitz and the Tantrums. I've seen them before, along with the opening the band, the Albrights. Both are good times, and it's supposed to be sunny, but not too warm, and I just cannot wait. And then this weekend is the Taste of Buffalo, and my favorite wine slushies. Mmmm, food and wine slushies sound like perfection right now.

The only thing harshing my mellow, and it's kind of a big thing - there have been several rapes and an attack in and near my neighborhood within the last few days. Two rapists have been caught just today, but rumors are swirling that it's gang-related (initiation), that it's not a single attacker, but groups of 5 or 6. I try to be as aware of my surroundings as I can be, but I hate feeling like I can't take a walk without suspecting anyone who looks in my direction.

UGH.

Anyway. The cats are finally at a place where they aren't sniping at each other. And last night I woke up to find Floyd nestled in my armpit. When Brian saw me moving, he came over and laid down pretty close to Floyd... and no fights about it! Brian was even able to stretch out a front paw and place it on Floyd without any trouble. Pretty soon, these cats will totally be snuggling.

On the Creepy Asshole Neighbor front, he actually said "Good evening" to me yesterday. He seems a lot more stable, but I'm still on the lookout for any weirdness.

CAN

Of COURSE I have attracted the attention of a very annoying neighbor at my new place. This guy, Creepy Asshole Neighbor (CAN for short), is like Fester in 30 years. He has no friends, no family visiting him, and apparently no job. All he does is glare at people while walking his beautiful pit bull up and down the street. Or he sits in his backyard, playing with his dog and muttering and glaring at people. 

Our houses are very close together, and one day last August (after several months of completely ignoring my existence), CAN ambushed me from his backyard when I was leaving for work. He started yelling about me having lights on at night. He was barely coherent. I was confused, because I only have lamps on in the living room, I rarely use the bright overhead lights, and I usually turn off the lamps and go to my bedroom on the other side of the house by 10 or 10:30 every night. I wasn't sure I even completely understood his issue, because he made no sense, so I just ignored it, and I ignored him.

For several months, I had limited and very sporadic contact with him. He saw me taking care of Zelda's body after she died, and he said that he was sorry, and talked about dogs of his that had died. He was still pretty creepy, but he was trying to be nice. He said things to indicate that he'd been watching me, but I let that go. 

Then nothing for months. 

In April, he started yelling at me again, saying that I was "stalking" his house, and trying to see into his bedroom windows. Uh... right. Oh, and his method for getting my attention was to hit the side of the house with what sounded like a chain, and then start yelling through my windows about how I had no moral fiber or good ethics.

More ambushing, waiting for me in his backyard when I left the house for work - my door comes out facing his yard, so I couldn't avoid him. I told him repeatedly to mind his own business. I involved my landlords, in case I had to call the police, and my landlords tried to talk to CAN. 

After a few yelling incidents in which CAN basically told me that I wasn't allowed to open my blinds and windows, bitching about my windows being open even while I'm at work (the cats are spying on him then, apparently), and a giant chalkboard note that CAN left facing my house (his writing is as nonsensical as his yelling), I tried contacting the police about harassment. They sure didn't care. They basically said that I should take it up with CAN's landlord, although from what I've heard, he owns the house. 

I didn't understand why I was attracting so much negative attention from CAN, when I was doing nothing wrong. Especially after all of the shit with Fester, I felt like I was doomed to have to constantly deal with douchebags who think that they can try to intimidate me and tell me what to do. And, just like with Fester, I've had friends and family telling me to watch myself with CAN, that he didn't sound stable. That he might try to hurt me. I really don't like confrontation, but I just wanted CAN to stop. To just ignore me.

Then I found out that this is a pattern with CAN, just like it was with Fester. A woman on my block has a restraining order against CAN because he stared at her so much. He does have a staring problem. Other landlords on the block have tried talking to CAN about his behavior, and in fact I heard someone having a huge argument with CAN last Thursday night. As messed up as it is, I felt better about the whole fucked-up situation. I am not alone in this. Everyone dislikes him.

I have been ignoring CAN completely. I actually thought the chalkboard was funny, but he took it down while I was gone this weekend. But I am not going to change a thing I'm doing. I'm going to continue opening my blinds and windows, because I don't have A/C, and I like light and air. I am completely ready to defend myself should CAN go beyond yelling, and I'm also completely ready to call 911 and make the police do their jobs. Just because it's been quiet this week doesn't mean he's done trying to mess with me. 

How y'all doin'??

I know. It's been a while. After the move last spring, and all of the roommate bullshit before that, I felt like I was going to have a new blog beginning, so I got myself a Tumblr and wrote semi-anonymously and not very deeply.

But... I MISSED MY BLOG!! 

So here's what's going on: I'm loving my little apartment more and more. It's a new home base from which to explore Buffalo, on my long walks. The west side has a lot going on right now, and I'm right in the middle of it. New or expanding restaurants, bakeries, and breweries seem to be opening weekly. I have easy walks to Allentown, to the upper west side, to the Elmwood Village, and to the waterfront. And even with all of the frozen water pipe problems that I dealt with last winter, I love having this apartment all for me and my cats.

Zelda shuffled off into the sunset in December. I believe that she had a stroke, and it was over very quickly. It was incredibly sad, but she was very old. It was a comfort that, between April and her death in December, she was a supremely happy cat. We had almost constant cuddles. She even started cuddling with Floyd, sometimes when I wasn't even there! And Zelda got all of the treats and attention that she could handle. She blossomed in a way that I didn't think possible - at the old house she basically stayed in the kitchen and ignored almost everybody, but she really loved the apartment, and she moved around it all she wanted. I am sad that she died, but I know that she very much enjoyed the last 8 months of her life.

Floyd is still Floyding as hard as he can Floyd. He is still hilarious and affectionate and a prime example of good catting. I took in a friend's cat, Brian, because Brian was attacking and generally terrorizing dogs. Floyd and Brian have been together going on two months, and they're still a little wary of each other, but they have cuddled. And they will cuddle further.

As for Fester, he shifted his attentions to another female roommate after I left the house. She left too, and then he had issues with some newer roommates, going so far as to call the police on a roommate after a fight about the bathroom (Fester cut in line). Fester also expressed to Shon that he felt that he could have handled things better with me - I laughed heartily at that. And then I rolled my eyes so hard that I almost fell over.

Fester finally moved out of Shon's, after months of promising that he would. Of course he owed Shon money, and of course he left his room a mess. Shon's friend cleaned it and found a big bag of weed, which is hilarious, if you remember that I used to call Fester "Pothead," and Fester was so offended by it: "I don't even smoke pot!"

For myself, I'm still so glad that I took the step of moving out. Maybe it doesn't seem like a big deal to some, but I am very much about NOT making the big life changes, even if I'm suffering where I am. I like my routines, and I really hate moving. But I had decided that I was going to move out before Fester went all wannabe-nemesis on me. I did have roommates who were scarier than Fester, but after I'd made up my mind to move, he was the impetus that actually got me to do it in a timely manner.

Of COURSE I have attracted the attention of a very annoying neighbor at my "new" place. He is creepy, and he's trying to intimidate me, because he doesn't like that I open my blinds and windows, and that I have lights on at night (seriously). I'm dealing with that situation as it comes, but at least this neighbor isn't IN my house with me. He can't hold the bathroom hostage, or mess with my things, or spam my email and phone.

Otherwise, work is going well, and we're in the busy season. And I'm still hanging out with my family a lot - we saw "Maleficent" this weekend, and I couldn't believe how excited Owen was about it! And I'm still hanging with my friends, and I'm having a great time.

I'm sure I'll expand on a few of these things, but for now, HEY!!! How y'all doin'?

No more GERMS! (no more Fester!!)

Hey, everyone! I have found a new, gorgeous apartment, all to myself and my cats, and I am blissfully roommate-free! Before I embark on my lovely, one-bedroom-apartment life, I wanted to do one last Fester dump of an entry. I know, I wrote a book here, but keep in mind that this all happened over months and months. Even when I tried my hardest to ignore Fester and keep the peace, he was still fixating on me, and I documented everything in case his behavior escalated to the point where I felt unsafe.

When it became clear that Fester was just a childish coward (funny, considering how many times he called me a coward), I kept on documenting. Now I'm going to share this lengthy roommate rant with you... one last roommate rant from the apartment I lived in for 8 and a half years.

Fester's rules:

• I am a coward because I never said anything to his face when his being a gigantic slob got on my nerves (not true at all, but someone has a very selective memory, and it isn't me).
• I am a coward for posting anything about him on my blog or Twitter. Also, even though I was obviously venting, didn't expect him to read any of it, and didn't use his real name, he seems to consider this harassment.
• I am a coward when I don't post anything about him on my blog or Twitter. To the sane person, it should be obvious that I stopped posting about Fester so that he'd calm the fuck down and ignore me as I tried to ignore him. Yeah, that didn't work. He is obsessed with me.
• I'm a coward for leaving notes about cleaning up after himself when it became obvious that Fester wouldn't talk to me in a rational manner. He insists that this never happened (by note, of course), but he has gone into his room and yelled at me through the door in the past - and he's yelled through his bedroom door at me SINCE he insisted that he's never done that. He sees no problem with leaving typed-out notes for me on the stairs up to my room, with passages from my blog inserted to show me how awful I am.
• I'm a coward for contacting Shon, the landlord, about things that Fester has done. I did this after talking to Fester and notes to Fester didn't work. I did this when Fester stopped being a slob in general and started constantly trying to yell at me and bother me on purpose (in fact, Fester told me - through a note - that he would change none of his behavior, and that I should move out if I didn't like it). At that point, I had no idea if he was dangerous or not, and my friends and my own mother were telling me to watch out for him, because he was obviously unhinged. So yeah, I contacted my landlord. 
• I'm somehow admitting guilt for whatever stupid bullshit Fester accuses me of if I don't contact Shon. Also, I'm a coward.
• When I argue with him, I do it like a coward. Apparently I don't look at him enough or something...? Really, the sight of him makes me nauseous. He's all dingy and gross. And, when he starts yelling at the top of his lungs and spitting all over the place, it's not like he's capable of being reasoned with. Just because he starts a fight about something completely moronic doesn't mean that I'm obligated to let him finish. But, of course, he doesn't get this.
• When I refuse to fight with him because I have better things to do, I'm a coward.
• Nothing that he's done - clogging the toilet multiple times, telling me that I need to clean the fridge out for him, leaving disgusting messes in the sink and on the countertops, letting things rot in the kitchen, stuffing the garbage as full as possible and then blaming me when the garbage bag breaks, doing things on purpose to annoy me, etc., etc. - justifies my behavior towards him. This is another way of saying that Fester can do no wrong, and I'm an evil witch for expecting him to clean up after himself like an adult and to not act like a gigantic, festering douchebag.
• Fester thinks that he will "win" if I move out. I don't really care, since I am now rid of him and his disgusting, poisonous presence, his douchey, loud voice, and his gross messes.

yo-ho, yo-ho, the quiet life for me

I am at my best when things are orderly and quiet. This isn't something that I used to be able to admit to myself - I wanted to be wild and crazy, at least sometimes. I wanted to be the kind of person who can pack a bag and fly off somewhere on a whim. The kind of person who is called on to bring a party up a notch. Or, let's say this: I wanted to want to be that kind of fun, zany person.

But I am what I am. And I am a person who craves a reading nook, a pot of tea, a cat in my lap. Tranquil, light-filled rooms.

Traveling doesn't interest me much, and while I can certainly party, I don't really want to be the center of attention. I like a plan, direction. A place for everything, and everything in its place.

Lately I've been all frenetic and messy, and I've had trouble focusing. I've been sleeping horribly. Nothing feels calm or true. I know that I just need a quiet weekend of reading and tea to get back to myself, and I know that it won't happen this weekend. But I have this image in my mind, and I'm striving for it.



Heaven.



Stoker

I love Design*Sponge's Living In series - the writers post stills from and blurbs about their favorite movies, accompanied with items that evoke the movies' atmosphere, which the reader can purchase. The idea, of course, being that we would all love to live in these movies.

One of my favorite genres is the Gothic family drama/mystery. I would love to live in some of my favorite books: The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield, We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. I like dark, unsettling tales focusing on monied (or formerly monied), insular, odd families.

I saw the movie Stoker on Sunday afternoon, and it was a movie after my own heart. I can't say too much without giving anything away, but the film is about a young woman, India, whose father has just died, and how she and her emotionally brittle mother deal with the appearance of India's sinister, beautiful uncle. Who no one knew existed. Dun Dun DUN.

We have the huge, gorgeous house out in the Connecticut countryside, removed from town. We have a family that barely seems to speak, shaken by the death of a father and the appearance of a family member never mentioned before.

We have a constant, dreamlike feeling that something peculiar is going on. And there is a sort of distorted quality of time, heightened by the camera's fixation on items from another era - saddle shoes, a vintage Jaguar. It wasn't until halfway through the movie that I realized that it was set in the present day, not the early 1960s.

I loved this movie. I loved the atmosphere of this movie, especially. I loved the house, which managed to be both light-filled and foreboding. I loved the clothing. I loved India's quiet watchfulness (Mia Wasikowski is perfectly cast). Oh, and Matthew Goode.

Matthew Goode.

So I have a new movie obsession, and it would be downright criminal if Design*Sponge doesn't do a post about this movie at some point.

spring fever

I like very strong, very obvious beginnings and endings. This is why seasons (especially in western New York) have always sort of annoyed me. Spring especially. Spring is the shortest season in this area, because we go from freezing cold to oppressively hot way too quickly.

I know it's only the first day of spring, but I am so done with the snow and the wind! Especially after my driver's side windshield wiper snapped off on Monday night.

It's cool. Tree needed an oil change anyway, and I wasn't super impressed with the Bosch windshield wipers, which were described as "the Porsche of wipers" when I bought the car. Whoo-freakin'-hoo. They weren't that great in the rain or in the snow. So oil change tonight, and cheaper, probably better windshield wipers.

Yeah, my car also needs a severe cleaning, but why bother when it's still snowing and crappy out? And I have some sweet new stickers to slap on my car, including an incredible Tom Waits sticker, but not until the car is clean.

Not until the snow stops. Which could be mid-May.

There was a weekend, a few weeks ago, when it was 70 degrees out. The sun was lovely. I had my car windows down, the sun roof open, and how sweet it was. One afternoon, I stopped by the local wine bar, and they had their door open. And now I want that really badly! I want some springtime. I want to be able to walk without looking down to make sure that I don't slip on ice. I want to be done with winter hats and gloves and scarves. I want a lighter coat. I want sandals on my feet. I want porch beers and warmer breezes.

I would settle for seeing some crocuses.

Ms. Social

It was such a beautiful weekend.

I took the longest walk on Saturday afternoon, after a little spring cleaning in my room. I ambled all over Buffalo. Everyone I encountered was so bouncy and happy, because the sun was finally out, and the snow was mostly melted. People were gardening, or riding their bikes, or washing their cars. I quite enjoy winter, but we hadn't seen the sun at length for weeks, it seemed, and the Vitamin D was much needed.

I went to a charitable beer blast on Saturday night - I know, so unlike me, but "charitable" is the key word here. But the beer on offer was high-quality stuff, and for $20 I drank as much as I wanted from 7 to 9 PM, and a lot of money was raised for a good cause. Afterward, I went with Julia to see the Albrights at the Sportsmens Tavern. My eyelids were drooping at the end of the night, but I was social for a while there. 

Yesterday the weather was even more gorgeous, so I decided to walk down to the local movie theater to see "Oz the Great and Powerful." It was an interesting story, and beautiful, but some of the CGI was weird, and James Franco was a little too... James Franco for me. Having every female character in the movie fall in love with him immediately was pretty laughable, since I find him annoying and not handsome. And one character's angry yelling, which was supposed to be scary and powerful, just sounded kind of teenagery, petulant, and bratty. Not frightening.

Then to Just Vino for Green Dot Day, a wonderful invention. Basically, any glass of wine from an already opened bottle is half off. Ami and I had some nibbles and some wine, and enjoyed the lovely breeze coming in through the open door.

It's supposed to start snowing again this week, but it was nice to have a weekend of sunshine and fun, to hold us over until spring gets here for real.

there and back

House should renew Violence Against Women Act

"Last year, House Republicans blocked renewal of the law because they objected to extending the law’s protections to Native American women, lesbians and illegal immigrants. Those women, including thousands here in Western New York, also deserve to be protected against domestic violence."

*~*~*~*~*

I visited my family for the long weekend, and it was a good time. For the first time this winter, I didn't have to drive through any white-outs, there or back, and I didn't have to clean off my car once. And I got to see all of the nieces and nephews, except for Izaak, who went on vacation with his aunt and her family. We watched some Harry Potter, we watched some Jurassic Park, we watched some Powerpuff Girls. I finished the last season of "Justified" and caught up on "The Walking Dead". I played race cars with Johnny (more accurately, I stole his race car, and he chased me around and took it back).  

Zelda and Floyd loafed around.

Owen took a bubble bath and insisted on reading a book in the bath, just like I do. PRECIOUS! And yesterday Kailyne was reading some little kid comics on my mother's Kindle, and doing a great job at it. And mom and I had a reading party on Saturday afternoon. 

I read "The Great Gatsby" for my book club. It has occurred to me that I should reread a lot of the things that I read in school, because I resented and rejected anything that I was made to read. I've sort of mentally thrown out some really good stuff in fits of wannabe-intellectual rebellion. Luckily, I got over this attitude by the time I got to college. But it would be helpful to revisit some things that I read in middle school and high school, from an adult point of view.

*~*~*~*~*

I'm about to start reading the "Game of Thrones" books. I seen the TV show, and now I'm about to get all the way obsessed.

*~*~*~*~*

I managed to slice open the tip of the middle finger on my right hand. It doesn't hurt much, but it looks gross, and it's inconvenient for typing. And, yeah, in true clutz fashion, I sliced my finger open on a tube of toothpaste. I didn't even feel it... I just looked down and saw the blood. As usual, I was distracted at the time. My poor hands.

  

all brain

I flopped down on my bed yesterday afternoon, stomach first. My body started settling into the bed and relaxing, and I was really paying attention to every second of it, every minute change in my arms and neck and back and legs. And it occurred to me that, unless I'm in some sort of pain, I don't really pay much attention to my body and how it's doing.

I don't feel the need to push my body to its limits, to train for hard things. No Mount Everest, no Iron Man. I don't feel the need to perform yoga moves where I balance on my arms, upside-down. I admire the drive of other people to do such things, but I don't value these things for myself. I don't even exercise, beyond a vigorous walk and a few flights of stairs every day. Sometimes I watch something like "Kill Bill" and then have momentary flights of fancy like, "Ooh, I should train to become a ninja assassin!", but these moments pass pretty quickly. I would much rather push my mind out past its boundaries.

My brain feels flexible, agile, capable of anything. My body, strong and sturdy though it may be, is clumsy and awkward. Good for walking without tripping (mostly), and moving furniture, gracelessly. I am constantly getting bruises on my legs and hips, scrapes on my hands, because I'm so caught up in my thoughts that I don't pay close enough attention to objects that I'm trying to walk around or interact with.

Sometimes, when I'm reading or concentrating on a task at work, my body completely disappears. I get so lost in my mental gymnastics that I may as well be a brain in a jar. Or Krang.

The only time I feel a nice mind/body synchronicity is when I take long walks around Buffalo. My mind is free to wander, unfettered, and my body is free to move, move, move. Sometimes I get into a state where every though, every swing of my arms feels so in tune. And then I feel less antsy.

I feel more connected, less lost in my head.

"I was just wondering if we could share organs, if needed."

 me:  Hey, what is your blood type?

 Julia:  I have no idea

 me:  Huh

 Julia:  how does one find out something like that?

do they tell you when you give blood?

 me:  give blood, or your doctor knows

I'm O-Neg

 Julia:  universal donor

 me:  I was just wondering if we could share organs, if needed

 Julia:  are you afraid someone is going to take a kidney while you sleep?

 me:  Nah, I'm a light sleeper 

I honestly don't know what made me think of it

I don't even know what blood types Mark and Nicky are

though they are both smokers and drinkers

 Julia:  yeah, you probably wouldn't want their organs

 me:  I'll bet Ami's organs are pretty healthy

 Julia:  yeah, she doesn't even swear to blacken them

 me:  and she eats a lot healthier than I do

dude, if swearing blackens your organs, I'm fuuuuuuuuuuuuuucked

 Julia:  haha

 me:  it says a lot about both of us that you're just rolling with this

 Julia:  i'm totally, "you bring up an interesting point"

 me:  "Ooh, which of my friends and family members would be harvestable?"

"Or nice enough to give me something that they don't absolutely need?"

 Julia:  haha

So, you know, this is what I chat about with my pals. It's good to know where you stand.

snippets

Finally, someone common-senses all over the gun control debate, in an enviably concise way. (Yes, I just used "common sense" as a verb).

*~*~*~*~*

I wrote my master's thesis on David Anderson's mother, Martha Jackson. The news of a print sale from Anderson's collection, to benefit local community organizations, makes me happy, happy, happy. Even if I can't afford to buy anything (I would love to get my hands on a John Hultberg print).

*~*~*~*~*

I'm going to surprise just everyone by saying that, so far, this winter has not been wintery enough for me. Where is my blue light? Where is my snow-quiet? I want these things. I haven't even gotten to shovel yet. And we just had our thaw, a month early, so the snow that fell while I was away has completely disappeared.

I miss my winter light.

 *~*~*~*~*

I am not one for chain restaurants, and I pick on my sister all the time about her love for them, but damned if I didn't get a massive hankering for Outback Steakhouse today. Either the Alice Springs Chicken, or a steak. Ooh, and a Bloomin' Onion. Ooh.

"See the cat? See the cradle?"

There's been a bit of a local kerfuffle about a teacher being forced to remove her religious items from her classroom in a public school in Cheektowaga. I believe wholeheartedly in the need for separation of church and state ("state" does include public schools), so I agree with the school district's stance that there is no place in this school for the teacher's religious beliefs, which were both prominently on display and, apparently, used in lessons she taught.

The comments are fascinating to read. A lot of the commenters rightly point out that most of the "Christians" who are horrified by the school district's actions wouldn't be quite so horrified if the teacher put up Muslim or Buddhist or Satanist items and was told to take them down. And I love that it was a student who complained about the teacher using Bible stories in some of her biology lessons.

*~*~*~*

I know, it's been a while, but I have not been getting up to any shenanigans lately. I have been quiet and content. And none of my deep thoughts feel very blog-worthy right now.

Work is going well. I hang out with friends and have a few drinks, when needed. My leisure time has been spent reading or watching a TV show or movie. Mostly reading, voraciously reading, with Floyd in my lap, trying to nuzzle my book. My reading slowed down over the holiday season, but now it's back in high gear, with the prospect of my very first book club membership on the horizon (hooray!). Right now I'm reading "Cat's Cradle" by Kurt Vonnegut, Jr., and I'll be reading "Stone Arabia" by Dana Spiotta for the book club.

I saw "Django Unchained" last weekend, and loved it so much more than "Inglourious Basterds." I knew it was going to be difficult to watch in several places, and it was, but I didn't expect it to be so funny. Tarantino gets a lot of shit for being bombastic sometimes, and I really think he should quit trying to act, but he can do some things. He can do some things.

Otherwise, I have been obsessed with "Pitch Perfect," both the movie and the songs. This morning I woke up with the "Just the Way You Are/Just a Dream" mashup in my head.

Last night I finished the 3rd season of "Six Feet Under," and it destroyed me. I watched the first season when it was on HBO, but then I moved to Buffalo for grad school, so no more HBO, but my friend Julia owns all of the seasons and is letting me borrow them. And JESUS. That show is so good it makes me hurt. Especially the finales.

a long winter's nap

Lately, all that I've seen and heard indicates that a lot of people I know didn't enjoy 2012. I certainly have had sad times in the past year (mostly regarding the passing of my coworker, Robert), and quite a few angry times (though I enjoy those, maybe overmuch). But I also remember a lot of fun, and laughter, and good times spent with good people. A lot of metaphorical sunshine, and delicious beer, and moments that made me wish I was a poet, they were so sweet.

...Too much?

Well. I mean, my car tried to kill me, but then I got a new car. That kind of sums up the year for me. Things may have sucked somewhat at times, but then they got better.

I am looking forward to 2013.

After last week's many, many activities, I have spent this week hunkered down with my family. We celebrated Christmas with a delicious, delicious ham. We watched all of the "Lord of the Rings" trilogy, the extended version, and mom and I went to see "The Hobbit" today. I have played a ton of video games, mostly "Red Dead Redemption: Undead Nightmare."

The snow has been plentiful and pretty. And my new car Tree does pretty well in it, which is lovely to know.

And I have slept. Glorious, long sleep, and naps whenever I like. This is something that I'd like to continue in the coming year. Good, glorious, long sleep.

christmastimeishere

It has been a whirlwind of a week, with the shopping and the parties and the eating (the kind of eating that makes you tired). Cheese. So much cheese.

We had our company holiday party at a bowling alley on Tuesday. We also had "theme teams," which is not really my thing, but I did participate, a little. We were the Rough Rockers, and our team was worst first game. We cheered very loudly when we won. Rock stars don't care about high bowling scores.

Bowling is something that I definitely don't do enough of. I had the power, but my aim was non-existant. If I bowled on a regular basis, it would be like learning to do lay-ups in basketball - a struggle, and then a click, and fluid movement that you don't even think about. I could get into bowling. And then I could have my own, beautiful ball, and a chamois to clean it, and a nice bag to put it in, and my own shoes to wear.

It was kind of fun to go out Christmas shopping, after the bowling party, dressed as a rocker. I finished all of my shopping and wrapped EVERYTHING that night. And Wednesday was our team holiday luncheon, catered by Moe's. A fajita bar, people! I am so addicted to Tex-Mex right now. And, on top of that, we had a chocolate fondue fountain.

And Wednesday night was my first White Elephant party. It was so much fun, although I expected really horrible gifts, and a lot of the gifts were pretty useful and not horrible. Someone did get a Ted Nugent CD, though...

There was the cutest little guy there, a 16-month-old baby. He kept sharing his toys with everyone, and his books, and his creepy baby doll (when I held it and pressed on it, it said, "MAMA, CHANGE BABY!" in a very scary voice. No thank you!). He was very interested in all of the host's books, and he kept pulling down the biggest books he could find. He'd plop on the floor and go through the books very carefully.

Anyway, I ended up with some very old, very dusty red and blue candles. And one holder.

Last night I had a little kiki with some coworkers, and we tried the lovely Bubbly Flight at Just Vino, and then I ate at Fat Bob's for the first time ever! I can't wait to have my leftover Texas Mac N' Cheese for lunch.

WHIRLWIND. I am very happy to have been such a social butterfly all this week, and to eat all of this wonderful food (so much cheese). I will also be very happy to pack up the car and drive to my mother's tonight. Even if I have to drive through Winter Storm Draco - awesome name, by the way - I will get there, and I will relax and enjoy a family Christmas.

some moments (many zombies)

Just some little, recent moments that made me happy about my life:

- Sitting at a bar with Ami and Jon, celebrating some good news for Ami. We had the drinks (wine slushies for me) and the food, and we laughed and talked and were interrupted by a colorful gentleman who banged on the window and waggled his tongue suggestively at us. And I discussed the new zombie features of "Call of Duty: Black Ops 2" with one of the bartenders.


"WINE SLUSHIEEEEEEEEE!"

- Watching older "Tales from the Crypt" episodes, including one of my all-time favorites, "Easel Kill Ya." It stars Tim Roth as a stereotypically starving, alcoholic artist who finally starts making money in the worst way possible. My favorite Tales episodes have the skilled irony of an O. Henry story, mixed with the gore and sex that early '90s HBO was pretty much known for. There were a lot of Tales episodes that sucked, where you could see the irony formula and the "twist" coming from a mile away. But when it's done well, it's done WELL. And Tim Roth is hot.

Murder Painting

- Playing "Left 4 Dead 2" and battling a Tank. Little Miss Lyra came walking through with my brother, and as she walked, she started cheerleading for me, with arm motions and everything. "Go Sarah! Beat the Tank! Kill the Tank!" Since she usually cheers for the zombies, I found this quite remarkable.

KILL IT WITH FIRE.

- Walking with Owen and Kailyne through a very light drizzle. Owen started running around in a little parking lot, acting like a zombie and scaring Kailyne. She was freaking out, so I acted like a zombie and chased Owen, and then we were all shamble-running together. Zombie style. This continued for longer than was strictly necessary, and we must have looked like crazy people. But we enjoyed ourselved immensely.

Pretending

- Driving Owen to his mother's house. I am still not used to having CDs in my car, after 12 years of a tape deck, and I changed all of the CDs on Friday, before I drove down to my mother's. I had no idea what was in the CD player, and when Radiohead's "The Bends" started playing, I wasn't sure that Owen would like it. He's 6, and his taste is appropriately awful for a 6-year-old. But instead of some variation of "YUCK, what is this?", he asked very politely what it was. When I answered, he asked what my favorite song on the album was, and then he asked me to play it. So we spent the rather short drive to Nicky's house listening to "Fake Plastic Trees" and pointing out the best Christmas lights on the way.


Lighting up the night

- Hearing "She's So High" by Tal Bachman on my iPod. I remembered how much I liked the whole CD, and I wondered if he'd released anything else. I did a little research and came across his biography online - he left the Mormon church because he didn't think it made sense, and he'd commented on politics and literature on several Canadian news shows, just all of this interesting stuff. I love it.


"Joseph Smith is full of shi-"

the wonderful world of data entry

Years ago, I graduated with a Master's in Art History, just as Erie County cut its funding of the arts. I could have gotten upset about it, but I needed work and food and was unwilling to move away from my family and friends for a job in my field. And so I fell into several kinds of "office job," I helped create a few new kinds of "office job," and once, I worked in a warehouse where all of my coworkers were men. That job was great, until someone found out that I had a Master's degree, and all of my coworkers started acting like I was a peculiar species that they'd never seen before.

It was at this warehouse job that I discovered the wonderful world of data entry. A guy would sit in the front office and enter orders into the WAY outdated AS400 system, and then we would all fill the orders in the warehouse. I was sort of half-assedly trained as the guy's back-up. I was perfectly content to work in the warehouse, filling orders and joking with everyone (and I have never been more muscular than I was while I worked there). But one night the office guy didn't show up, so I had to enter all of the orders that came in over the phone and the fax machine. And the guy never came back, so his job was mine - we found out later that he'd been arrested for DWI in Pennsylvania, where they do not mess around. He sat in a jail cell for several days.

The office was kind of lonely, with everyone working out back in the warehouse, and the entry wasn't terribly difficult. Just different 6-digit numbers which corresponded to items that different stores were ordering. These numbers, over and over and over. I would just sit in the office, listening to music, typing in these numbers with my right hand, tabbing through fields with my left hand. I started to see the numbers whenever I closed my eyes. But I found that I had an aptitude for this work, and that I enjoyed it, even though it didn't take much thought. And, once the orders were all in, I could go back into the warehouse and fill orders and joke around with all of the guys.

That job didn't last long. The entire place was shut down when the owner was convicted on federal charges. But I enjoyed the job, and the data entry stuck.

Now I'm working at a much more respectable place, non-profit, of course. We have a very worthy mission, which we are all dedicated to. And I am much higher up on the data entry food chain. My job requires accuracy, focus, and a lot of independent thought. I troubleshoot, I offer solutions, and I have a lot of variety, from day to day.

Now I get annoyed when data entry is put down in TV shows or movies. It's true that I never would have considered this as a career when I was younger and just entering the workforce. It's true that I just fell into it. But I am so suited for it, and I still enjoy it, all these years later.

Programming note

My roommate Pothead is now Fester, because he fits several definitions of the word and looks like Uncle Fester with hair. FYI.

I'm still on the high road, since I haven't resorted to illegal email harassment like he has (NOW WITH PROOF!), and I know that he was the one "anonymously" commenting on this blog.

Maybe hide your IP address when you're harassing me, dipshit. Or, in your own interest, knock off the douche nozzle behavior, because I am documenting everything.

the high road

I think I can safely say that things are out in the open with Pothead. As I may have mentioned before, he's been doing things specifically to piss me off lately - things like opening the shower curtain every time I close it, opening the kitchen garbage can every time I close it, etc., etc. I wasn't sure where this new surge of rampant immaturity was coming from, and I didn't really care. I just sighed and closed the shower curtain, sighed and moved his dirty dishes out of the sink so that I could use the sink, sighed and closed the garbage can...

 

Well, I did put a note on the garbage can, very polite, because the aroma of garbage is actually not appetizing at all.

 

I know, you are all, "You and your notes!" But believe me when I say that notes are better for me, in many ways - anytime I verbally bring up anything, Pothead immediately goes to Douchebag Level 2 or higher. One time, he seriously did go into his room and start yelling at me through the door, like a small, bratty child. I cannot stress enough how unbelievably ludicrous that was to witness, let alone be a part of. Pothead obviously can't handle hearing that he needs to unclog his own toilet messes (I'm never, ever going to get over this), or do his own dishes.

 

I don't seem to be the only recipient of this behavior. I've heard him do the same thing on the phone, several times. I don't want to hear him on the phone, but he really does just start yelling THAT loudly, seemingly out of nowhere, and I can hear it everywhere in the house. I have heard this, and I have experienced it for myself: trying to talk to Pothead calmly is a one-way ticket to a screaming argument. Or possibly the police being called.

 

My name is Sarah, and I am a passive-aggressive notewriter. Sue me.

 

Anyway, I put a friendly note on the garbage can. And Pothead wrote something on the note about hearing me call him a douchebag outside his room one day. Whoops! And yes, this is where I got immature (well, even more immature, at this stage), because why should Pothead keep all of the immaturity to himself? I wrote yet another note (hey, it's better than a punch in the face) that was all, "I'm sorry that you heard me call you a douchebag, but in my defense, I was probably dealing with one of the following situations:".  And then I listed out quite a bit of the douchey behavior.

 

I'm assuming that this whole "douchebag" episode is what caused him to start trying to piss me off on purpose, instead of incidentally, through laziness and inconsiderate behavior. Because apparently Pothead's response to being called a "douchebag" is to... act even more douchey. Pothead Logic!

 

The thing is, I certainly am a bitch, and I have a hard time letting any sort of bullshit go. I'm not exactly proud of these things - they just are. I freely admit it. But, had I been nicer, Pothead would still be a belligerent prick. And I can't imagine anyone being so nice that they wouldn't be resentful of a roommate who is a constantly inconsiderate slob. I don't think I'd ever want to be that nice.

 

I acknowledge that writing my last missive wasn't the "high road" thing to do, and that I'm just inviting more bullshit from him. I acknowledge that I've gotten a little too into the spirit of 'YAY, ARGUING!" that the anonymous blog comments from last week (which I'm about 80% sure were written by Pothead) brought up. It almost feels nostalgic; I used to feel this way when I started fighting with my first roommate in grad school, all "Oh, why is she being so awful, and ooh, what's going to happen next!" It's very akin to reading a sibling's journal, knowing you shouldn't, feeling so excited at the same time.

 

The problem, of course, is that I don't have the energy for stupid feuds anymore. When I was in my early 20s, I was all, 'MA HONORRRR!" But now I'm 34, and I don't give a shit whether Pothead likes me or not, but I also see no value in "winning" any sort of argument with him. I've got my cool job, my nice car, friends that I adore, an awesome family. I don't need to "spice up my life" with this kind of pettiness. And it doesn't feel mentally healthy to want to continue an argument or feud.

 

So, it was fun for a bit, but I'm done. I tried ignoring Pothead before, but I didn't try hard enough. I'm certainly going to try harder, though it may be difficult, knowing that we live in the same house, which he hardly ever leaves. But I'm just going to live my life, and he can go on ahead and live his, hopefully ignoring me, like I asked. I've certainly got better things to focus on. I certainly hope that he does, too. 

 

I left my nasty note, and I probably shouldn't have, but now it's all out in the open. And I'm done. I'm going for the high road.