go baptize a salad

I have no problem with any kind of religion. People may charm snakes, pray to plants, starve themselves, deny themselves sex, whip their backs to pulp, shave heads, jump around like they are on fire, set themselves on fire, coat themselves in oil, water, or ranch fucking dressing.

Do it. Do it all night long. Get your religious groove on.

HOWEVER (you knew it was coming)

When you start impacting the lives of others in a detrimental way, you can go to hell. No Valhalla, no virgins or over-eating without getting fat for you, buddy. Or you get reincarnated into a toilet at a book store or an all you-can-eat ass explosion restaurant. Whatever. Be it physical or emotional violence, it is a VIOLENT behavior. You might as well move in with the Phelps family, because your so-called "justifiable" religious behavior is as ridiculous as theirs.

All I ask is that you keep it in your church. or your back yard where you hug your tree or whatever. I will never tell you that what you believe is wrong.

And I’ll expect you to do the same.

And if you have that shitty, evil, intolerant bullshit hanging out on your myspace page, don’t send me a friend request. I happen to believe that God loves fags.

I’d like to believe that whatever is out there hates your hate.





(. . . what an asshole.)

6:30 PM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

the glass is half broken

So, for those of you who don't know, I broke my glasses again. They are about 10 years old, and are mostly held together with super glue, but I love them and feel that they are a trademark of sorts.

They fell off while I was dancing like Molly Ringwald at an All Nite Skate show. They flew off my face as I was doing a really sweet head flip a la The Breakfast Club and off they flew. They are currently being held together by a really durable piece of scotch tape I procured from the fine staff at the Brass Rail.

Anyhoo, everyone seems to have a really big problem with the tape. To the point that people have made faux offers to buy me new ones. Here's the deal. I just don't care enough to rush out and get a new pair. These still work. It's like a car that has a soup can to help fix the muffler or a pair of your favorite pants you patch up to keep wearing. Some things can work for a while. You don't run out and just replace anything. It seems hasty. Take this as a life lesson.

As an update, work feels like that movie Groundhog Day. Small nuances I MAKE are the only things that really change on a day-to-day basis.

And I want a heart made of ice cream. Right now it's akin to something resembling a change jar. A piggy bank you cannot access until you break it.

Too emotional. Think of the broken glasses. I am contented with them, so just let them be what they are. Dorky.

12:50 AM - 4 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment

really bad pie analogy

Out of nowhere, I am a sous chef.  Seriously.  It was like getting hit in the face with a pie at a really random place to get hit with a pie (think something clever like a board meeting for a boring company or in a vet's office after you just got your cat vaccinated).  Basically, it was super strange and now I am a manager and a really real chef and . . . wow.

Concerns, at this point, are about the hours.  I am the world's worst morning person.  There's coughing and hacking and falling down and grumpiness.  fugue states.  temporary blindness.  dry skin.  eye boogers. 

you get the point.  And now I have to be at work at 8 every day.  In the morning.  And I know that 8 rhymes with good stuff, but it also rhymes with late.  Possibly a lot. 

and I have this really creepy, foreboding feeling that this is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.  The whole situation, I think, could be great or a big mistake on someones part.  Hopefully not mine.

deep breathing.  yoga.  a healthy clean life.  All those things are gonna have to wait.  I'm so nervous I could smoke cigarettes.  hmm. 

8:31 PM - 4 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

blu year

To the seriously over-pretentious, stigma-sticking, haters of the mundane and bored to tears iconoclasts, new year resolutions are a trite and overly-popular way to probably lower ones own self esteem by ruining high expectations of said resolution.

I, however, am a fan.

I stuck to one resolution I made last year (which I will not tell you . . . yes, you). I always make the resolution to moisturize more, but I never stick to that. I plan on looking like a California raisin by the time I am 30. Or not. Maybe this year is my year.

I am looking forward to 2008. Because '07 was complete crap. I feel like a new year is a gift (if it brings a little less crap than last year). Also, a lot of things rhyme with eight. Like great and plate and mate and fate . . . the list continues. Not much rhymes with seven. I am contributing most of my issues with that year with that specific complaint. Complaint almost rhymes with 8. Things are looking up.

And my resolution(s)? There are too many to count. The one that really rings in my head, the one that I hope I will keep, is to get out of Fort Wayne. Again. For good this time.

And to moisturize.

11:18 PM - 7 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

like walking in the rain and the snow and there’s . . . nowhere to go.

I have a crush on this guy.  He's a musician, which I hate because I have tried my hardest to stay away from those types.  I told myself the next person I would date would wear a suit 5 days a week, but I hate yuppies and suit-y guys like women who also wear female versions of suits.  I digress.  This guy I have a crush on is super cynical, and I think he hates love.  He has written on the subject several times, and has even happily mentioned the sad and terrible things that happen when you do fall in love, and the stupid stuff people will do during infatuation.  He is terribly good looking, and has a pretty wierd grasp on fashion.

He is also a little bit older than me, now.

But I have a crush on him THEN.  I am crazy about a guy who wrote a couple hits in the 70's.  Yup.  For those who don't know, I am ga-ga over the lead singer from 10cc.  from the 70's. 

"I'm not in love."

"the things we do for love"

Anybody?

Even when I pick a guy from the PAST to like, they too have a problem with interpersonal relationships.  I am a sucker for those that are hard to get.  This is pretty much damn near impossible.

Ok.  It's impossible.

But I have placed both of his bands hits in my head musical (that sentence sounds strange).  I think one of them will be playing during a particularly stupid thing I did last week whilst blacked out at the bar.  It will be in slow-motion.  And there will be a soft shoe dance number. and an Al Green hit. 

The musical, however, has hit a stopping point, because it has all the factors except one.  It has heart-break, and betrayal, and jealousy (lots of that), action, suspense, sex, violence, and a lot of toe-tapping musical numbers . . . but there's no climax.  No ONE BIG THING that happens that turns this story into a masterpice, a broadway hit, a tony-award winning chunk of musical theatre.  For one, there is no love.  and there is no explosive action that sets a chain of events that will leave you breathless, wanting more. 

Essentially, I have hit a lull.  A block.  Unless that explosive moment happens soon this musical will have to go on hiatus, and that would be tragic.  I had a Billie Holiday / tap dancing scene. 

Essentially, I need inspiration.  I am bored in ways I cannot express, and boredom leads to Waiting for Godot.  Ugh.

11:11 AM - 8 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

20 minute drum solo

It seems like everytime I open my mouth these days, I start ranting.  I feel a little bad for those who have to be around me as I try to convey my day, or a crazy drunken night (okay, they are not that crazy) or when I try to describe my job or my feelings about anything . . . I start rambling on like a spoken word artist on speed (or a jam band).  I feel totally concrete in what I am saying, but when did I get so outwardly neurotic?

I could blame it on caffiene, but the effects of that wore off years ago.  Now it's more of a necessity for stasis. 

The thing is, my head is so far in the clouds I am not sure what is going on.  I have reached this really really bored state where I day dream ALL the time, and I find myself singing out loud or tapping my foot to the singing / dancing musical I am writing in my head (it's mostly biographical and I steal from celine dion, queen, and bits and pieces of sinatra tunes) and i think I am just literally bored to the point of feeling like an episode of Ally McBeal.

I still like to consider myself cynically whimsical.

7:52 PM - 5 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

horror movie hangover

I was watching the 1970's version of Invasion of the Body Snatchers, laughing to myself about the parallel it created in my head.  Of my life right now.  The chick in the book store is screaming "my husband is not my husband!"  and the Asian guy at the drycleaner (albeit a stereotype) is chatting about how that lady (rady) is not my wife, "she someone else." 

As I get older (and more fearful as that statement becomes more of a self-actualized account of my worst nightmare come to life) I feel like it's an invasion of the married / engaged / parenting peoples come to fashion me a pod and get me on board.  To clarify, and I have mentioned this - drunken or sober - about my fear of the good-time people going adrift in a sea of  couple-ness complacency that leaves me, sadly, alone.  Wildly searching the city for those that are like me, and finding more of the same infected creatures.  It's just like the movie.  Only, you know, not as drastic, and without the presence of alien parasites and such.  But similar.

And I am not angry, really, or casting cynical stones at my friends.  The underpinning of a lot of these diatribes is that I am going to be the kooky chain-smoking "aunt" and become gross.  In all the ways someone who no one wants becomes gross.  And desperate.  Sigh.  I guess all of this is pretty desperate. 

Which is what the movie illustrates.  In this version, it was people freaking out, trying to fight the inevitable.  Other than the newest version (I was told) there was never a happy ending.  Just an ending.  Absolute infiltration.  Everyone was changed, and when you woke up, everything was different.  And you dealt.

I suppose I am waiting to wake up and just accept everything.  Not just the people in my life falling in love and being awesome and happy, but waking up and being alright with everything.  In the movies, there are always those who try to fight to remain conscious, and they don't win.  But, in essence, they don't lose either. They just became something new, like everyone else. 

Maybe, just maybe, I need to understand what I am trying to run away from before I fear inoculation.  Or call anyone a pod person.

The movie was really good, however.  I gotta thank Justin for introducing me to the classics.  Jeff Goldblum has huge ears. 

I feel emo right now, which in turn makes me really really hate myself.

8:02 AM - 8 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Maiden Voyage will probably have a back seat full of dirty laundry

I don't have a ton of time, but the most exciting thing to happen to me since the phone is about to happen, and I am a happy.

I get a car this weekend.  And it's not a "great" car or a "nice" car but one that runs and has a CD player, so in my mind it is both great and nice.  I just hope it has heat.

To quote a friend the other night, with the phone and a car it's like I'm a real person.  At least one that can now meet up with people who ask to hang out, as opposed to calling me, and then coming to pick me up.

Will also revolutionize laundry situations. 

7:30 AM - 11 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

The itch (and quilting as a point of interest)

Thinking about leaving.  Just thinking about it, I have yet to make any final decisions,  but it has been weighing on me a lot these days.  Mostly because I am really nostalgic about the lifestyle I used to have.  Every day I wake up, I have coffee, and I listen to some music, maybe take a walk, and then I go to work.  Almost every fucking day.  I hate routine.  I have talked to several friends about the idea of getting comfortable.  I would someday like to use that word to describe how I feel around someone of romantic interest (instead of words like nervous, awkward, geeky, giggly, stupid, etc) but I hate the notion of remaining in a place because I am comfortable.  I want to be comfortable when I go to bed, or watch movies, or have a nice meal.  I DO NOT desire comfort as a lifestyle choice.  I prefer words like adventurous or exciting or busy or hectic or controversial. 

Lifestyle choice:  by the direction of the wind. 

I wish I didn't have this itching tendency that thrusts me in - sometimes - bad, albeit, eye-opening experiences.  I just am looking for something my hometown cannot offer me.  The fort offers me amazing freinds and family, and decent opportunities and a place where I can rest.  But the off-shoot, the rub of it all, is that this comfort makes me more anxious than happy.  Therefore, the only "comfortable" option for me is to keep on keepin' on.  I am going to apply to a bunch of things, talk to friends in different cities, and jump on the first opportunity that tells me "yes." 

After I get a car.

So I will be here for a while . . . Making a quilt and learning how to knit.

Two things I am extremely excited about.  Oh.  And I was promoted at work. 

I am now a chef. 

9:55 AM - 5 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment

your morning coffee.

I had never really considered this before, but maybe - JUST MAYBE - I might be bad for people.  Perhaps I am like a gateway drug.  You know, a little bit of me and the next thing you know you are passed out in a parking garage with a needle hanging out of your arm and a crack pipe tipped precariously out of your sunken eyeball.  Only not as drastic.  Or perhaps just as drastic.

I have felt that sometimes I create a fork in the road for people, that sometimes I promote a transition in their life, good or bad.  More like a merge lane on a highway, and less like that first hit of a joint that you think is totally harmless.  I also think I am giving myself WAY too much credit.  My point (because I always take so long to get there) is that I am not feeling like I am enriching lives by being there.  I am the invited house guest that trashes the place and leaves in a hurry (and this has happenned in a literal way to a lot of friends, you know who you are and I adore you). 

To speak in more riddles, I want to be a vitamin pill. I want to be whole grain.  A book of vocabulary.  I want to be a trip to Europe. A daily jog.

I want to be someones morning coffee. 

 I want to be good for people.  I am - currently - not.  And I am sorry. 

10:02 PM - 10 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment