A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Wind chill= 1. One. One effing degree.

I don't wanna go to work. I don't want to leave the house. No!


Fine. Let me just pull on eight layers of long johns or something else that I don't own because it's not supposed to be 1 degree in Mississippi.

Ready for summer again. Gimme back grilling out, sundresses, flip flops, and reading on the porch.

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

It's just dinner.

With the president of the ___* County Young Republicans.
Super cute. Nice guy.
I love me a nerd.
*County name removed for privacy. He's an elected official, you know.

The Secret Sisters performing "Tennessee Me" on KCRW

New love.

I haven't an overwhelming interest in seeing Willie Nelson tomorrow night at the Crossroads Arena....

but these ladies, The Secret Sisters, are opening.

So I am so going.

Monday, December 06, 2010


There's really no other choice for what has to be done here.

Cue: Down with the Sickness

Montage: Sarah running, doing pushups, sharpening stakes, slinging on bullet-belts, kicking a punching bag, making a tuna sandwich, swinging on vines through a jungle, flying over Chicago on a jet-pack, and finally rolling her eyes.

Thursday, December 02, 2010


Another event from last night.

So Brandon got me addicted to Glee. I spread the fanatacism to Katie and Co., my parents, and my California relatives. Megan remains steadfastly uninterested, but I'll convert her eventually.

My parents purchased the first season on dvd, and we all worked our way through it together in, like, two weeks with Katie and Rachel. We made big nights out of it with lots of junk food. (Which is not lame at all.) So we were all really happy about the second season starting. I continue to be happy with it, but my folks announced last night, when catching up on a few dvr'd episodes I'd already seen, that they've had enough.

The reasoning? "It got too gay and preachy."

I just slowly nodded and wandered back into the kitchen, which, in Hebrew, means "place of peace". Or that may be Shiloh. I spread some herbed chevre on a cracker and nibbled, debating whether to go back into the living room and pick a fight. Over Glee.

Well, shit, I wasn't doing anything else.

I sauntered back into the living room and stood there for a minute, waiting for acknowledgement of my presence so we could begin. The temperature had dropped ten degrees. I casually asked if they no longer enjoyed the music. My Dad, being the default spokesman in All Disagreements Concerning Political/Social Issues, said:

"It's just so in-your-face with all the gay stuff."
"Are you referring to Kurt? You liked Kurt."
"He's not funny anymore! The cheerleaders were better as mean cheerleaders. Now they're lesbian cheerleaders. It's no fun."
(Aside: I am so grateful to The Universe that he said this. Had my father said anything about having a fondness for lesbian cheerleaders, I would have vomited up the last of my sanity and retreated into a cave to hop around like Gollum. So thanksss, Universsse. I owe you.)

I agreed that I didn't like how the last few episodes that featured Kurt seemed to be all about his orientation, but only because I thought it was insulting to portray him as one-dimensioned. It's just as obnoxious to portray someone's sexual preference as being their defining characteristic as it is to knock that person based on that characteristic. He responded that that wasn't it, it was just that Kurt's gayness had gotten so serious. Particularly a couple episodes back when the show took on the issue of gay-bullying in high schools. I said that that was a great episode, and totally relevant and current. I reminded him that the episode aired shortly after a string of bullying-related suicides had cropped up in the news. He said he didn't think it was right to be preachy about it.

So it's ok when a fag acts like a buffoon and prances around, because that makes you laugh, but it's not ok if he stands up to someone shoving him in a locker?

My blood began to boil and I went back to the kitchen. Not in defeat, really, but because we've been at this stalemate for years.

I love my parents tremendously. They are wonderful, kind, brilliant people. But they both have this weird way of thinking about these things that I just can't fathom. I don't know how many times my mother and I have sat on the porch and began a casual conversation about gay marriage that ends in one or both of us slamming a door or getting red in the face. I don't understand how they can be so against something that doesn't affect them in the slightest, like it's an affront to their straightness somehow. I don't understand how these two people who are so incredibly whip-smart in every other aspect, can accept my best friend and refer to him as their adopted son, genuinely love him, but be ok with the fact that he can't marry whoever he wants. Like breeders should have a monopoly on formally declared love and legal benefits. What the hell is marriage, anyway? Don't ask a straight person. Statistically, over half of us have no dog in the sanctity race, having already put asunder our own unions. Even if you really believe that someone is hellbound for finding their connection with someone who owns similar naughty bits, no one's asking you to go gay. Just let other people live as they please, for Pearl's sake. Thankfully, my parents aren't of the crazyass crew who say things like, "Well, it's just a slippery slope 'til we let people marry kids or their pets!". Ugh. Comparing a consensual relationship between adults to child abuse is so screwed up I don't want to know how anyone arrives at such a statement. I digress.

Anyway, sometimes it's just really hard to relate to the people who love you more than anyone on the planet. I respect them so much, and I love them unoconditionally, despite this constant disagreement. I enjoy a good debate as much as the next girl, but I hate seeing them get legitimately upset, and I don't like getting upset like that, either. I wonder if they look at me and think, "Where did we go wrong? How did her thinking get so backwards?". Probably. And they were remarkably cool about it when one night, back in high school, I blurted out during Survivor that I thought I may be bi. We just haven't brought up their feelings on my preferences since. It's a nonissue, like I had never said anything.

Just rambling. It'll never get resolved.

I totally took out the rest of that chevre.

Tuesday, November 30, 2010


Speaking of Zelda in Pet Sematary, that role was actually played by a man. Eeeenteresting.

My back is officially the enemy for the next few days. I went ahead and got the rX, so I've stopped this process before the standard shingles-rash will crop up, but the godawful scorched muscle feeling is there with a fury. Imagine lifting a horse (or your mom) using just one muscle in your back, and then having someone poke you repeatedly in that spot with a stick. Then the fun of picking up a Valtrex prescription and stammering out that "it's for shingles" to a blank-faced clerk. It's not the herp, man. I'm just wicked stressed and it's manifesting in my nerve endings. Stop looking at me.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010


That's when Granny passed this morning. I held her hand.

Kinda makes everything else I've been fretting about seem pretty GD stupid.

Monday, November 22, 2010

Ran my mouth.

And was handed the responsibility of handling a soundtrack.

I have NOT bitten off more than I can chew.
I have NOT bitten off more than I can chew.
I have NOT bitten off more than I can chew.
I have NOT bitten off more than I can chew.
I have NOT bitten off more than I can chew.

This is a bigger production than I thought it was.

I am not intimidated. I can do this. I have dreamed about doing this. Gunter says he knows I have the talent and now I get to prove myself. Here goes.

Sunday, November 21, 2010

TV On The Radio - Wolf Like Me

I didn't even know this video existed until today! AND. I. LOVE. IT.

Go home, it's over.

Make my blood pump 7-8-9
make my heart beat double time
Now, I'm the only sour cherry on your fruitstand, right?
-The Kills, Sour Cherry

This weekend I have been in Huntsville, Memphis, rage, concern, giddiness, two bars, a butcher shop, a comics haven, and a movie theater. I have been pursued by a man I don't like and a man I do. I have had one conversation with a seemingly apologetic and friendly Engineer. I have not decided how I feel about that.
It's been tiring.

Oh, and filming starts in May and Gunter wants ME to help score investors. Alrighty. He'd better let me assistant-direct. Oh, the disagreements we'll have. It'll be epic and loud and hilarious.

Friday, November 19, 2010

Just sayin'.

Damn, I feel good.

Saturday, November 13, 2010

Owning it.

Since permanence has been on my mind, Brandon and I are finally getting our Hedwig tattoos tonight. Of course, I'll be getting the one with the green eye and he'll get the blue. I'm excited. We've been talking about doing this for ten years. It's taken me that long to decide I want one. This is his fourth.


You think that luck
Has left you there.
But maybe there's nothing
up in the sky but air.
And there's no mystical design,
No cosmic lover preassigned.
There's nothing you can find
that can not be found.
'Cause with all the changes
you've been through
It seems the stranger's always you.
Alone again in some new
Wicked little town.
So when you've got no other choice
You know you can follow my voice
Through the dark turns and noise
Of this wicked little town.

-Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Wicked Little Town

Monday, November 08, 2010


My blog is officially 4 years old today. She and I have been through a lot, and she's always been there, willing to let me type out into even lines the swirlings in my head. We stayed public for a long time before switching to private and then semi-private. Going back and re-reading comments from people I love has been really heartwarming. What would I have done without these amazing people? What wonderful people I know.

Totally getting some OJ and a z-pack on my lunch.

Silver lining update: strep gets you out of social events you really didn't wanna do. At least it feels like strep, but I do work with the public and it's flu season. My throat's so swollen I can barely speak and my fever's high enough to make me feel all swimmy.

I really wish the things I imagine would sometimes really happen. Example: that all my coworkers suddenly start dancing their way through their duties in a synchronized manner to "Sixteen Tons."

Since catching any kind of sickness could literally kill my grandmother, I'm staying at Brandon's again tonight. He feels bad about being so harsh yesterday (even though he's totally right), and has promised to do a Redbox run and make me dinner. So as soon as I get out of work, I'm driving over there, pounding some Nyquil, and shaking this.

Tracey's sick, too. We've begun a plague.

In other news, last night Brandon and I viewed the Night of the Demons remake (starring Edward Furlong and Shannon Elizabeth *snicker*) and Kick-Ass, which he had seen and I hadn't.

NotD: soooo fun. A lot glossier and slicker than the original, of course, and it's impossible to take Shannon Elizabeth seriously in any capacity. Some of the darkness that made the original memorable in a stream of early 80's horror is definitely lost, but there are a few stellar gross-outs and a couple really good pieces of comedic dialougue. It's a little better than the run-of-the-mill slasher we've gotten used to in recent years, and if you go into it knowing what it is, you'll really enjoy it.

Kick-Ass: Oh, my Zod. This was so better than I thought it would be! I'm not sure what I was expecting. But it was pretty clever and it made me want to put on a cape. Nic Cage is a guy I take with a grain of salt sometimes (see: Knowing), but I appreciated his turn in this movie. I mean, his heart was obviously in it. This is a dude who named his real-life son after a DC Comics character, (yeah, I know, Kick-Ass is published by Marvel. That's not the point.) which I can respect, even if I think he could have picked a better name from those pages...Alan Scott has a nice "El" or "Al" sound without veering into ridiculous, for example, and people would totally get the reference, right? But I guess he's ok with little Kal-El taking some guff on the playground. I digress. I was particularly impressed with Chloe Moretz, who got more game in one nunchuck than I got...anywhere. Overall, I really enjoyed it, and I'm not even irritated about them recycling John Murphy's kickass (hehe) score from 28 Days Later. In fact, I'm glad I was reminded about it, because I had taken it off my iPod and I want it back on now.

That's it. I'm gonna sit still for awhile so I don't pass out. This fever is downright trippy.

It's strep. Tracey went to the doc and confirmed. So yeah, I'm going to the clinic as soon as I get out of here to get a shot. Then I'm going to Brandon's, who still works at the hospital and doesn't mind being exposed to my germs.

Sunday, November 07, 2010


Fine. In light of this weekend's conversations and in trying to to avoid that icky feeling of requited lust and unrequited sweetness, I'm shopping local. I've accepted a date with ___*, a nice young man I met on Friday and who tracked me down on Facebook to ask me what kind of movies I like. I respect confidence. He's...nice. I don't know much about him yet, and I'm trying not to write him off based solely on the fact that he's really, really into sports. You never know!

I just can't wait on anyone anymore. And Brandon's right: I set myself up for impossible situations so I don't have to invest much. It's a defense mechanism that doesn't work, because I still get hurt.

Regarding BC, the most important thing is to maintain our friendship.

Regarding all the activity and projects and side projects, Brandon's right on that, too. And so is Tamara...ok, we're all in agreement that I need to slow down a bit. Because a lot of what I do isn't because I'm that interested.

*Name removed for privacy. And because I'm kinda embarassed about it now.

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

It's going to be 30 degrees and rainy tomorrow night.

Seafood Chowder (slightly modified for formerly overly curvacious bankers who like hearing "OMG you're getting so skinny!")

1 1/2 cups fat free milk
1 (8 ounce) container fat free cream cheese
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 (26 ounce) can fat free condensed cream of mushroom soup
1 cup chopped green onions
1 cup sliced carrots
1 (15.25 ounce) can whole kernel corn, undrained
1 1/2 cups chopped potatoes
1 teaspoon dried parsley
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne pepper
1/2 pound shrimp
1/2 pound bay scallops
1/2 pound crabmeat 1/2 pound calamari tubes
1 (6.5 ounce) can chopped clams

Place 1/2 cup milk, cream cheese, and garlic in a large pot over low heat. Cook and stir until blended. Mix in soup, green onions, carrots, corn with liquid, potatoes, parsley, and remaining milk. Season with black pepper and cayenne pepper. Simmer 25 minutes. Do not boil.
Mix the shrimp, scallops, crabmeat, calamari, and clams, and continue cooking 10 minutes, or until seafood is opaque.

Nothing too impressive or complicated about it, but it promises to be delicious amd soothing. I plan to whip it up, bake some fresh herb bread, and nestle in front of something spooky.

I've lost my ability to blog in essay form. Eff perfect paragraphs.

1) I got good and pissed and sent a scathing response text to the Engineer, who is again nameless on this blog and elsewhere in my life. I told him not to pull that again, and that what happened between us wasn't special and neither is he. I'm ignoring all communication henceforth. It's time for this shit to be done. Clearly I've been on his mind, and clearly, he still hasn't figured out how to confront what's in his own head well enough to be a big boy about it. Eff him.

2) The system at work that I figured wouldn't be that big a deal has turned everyone at work into lady-raptors. I've made two mistakes, one noteworthy. But it's been corrected (and in fact had been corrected by myself before anyone else even noticed it), and once again the only people bringing it up are the people who need to shush and concentrate on their own jobs before our boss busts out a flaming sword of rightful disciplinaries. Eff them.

3) I'm no longer being coy and wishy-washy with people I care about. If it quacks like a duck, it's probably a duck. That duck may not be addressed or titled at this time, but it is what it is, and it's kinda jerkish to continue not naming the puppy. It doesn't make sense, but it feels good. Eff rationality.

4) Maybe it would be healthy to learn how to vent to the friends in my everyday life rather than keep on a happy face all the time. Eff stoicism.

5) Naaaah. Eff openness.

6) Tonight I'm taking up ___* offer to hang after work. I need to get outside my head for a minute. I've been writing, reeling about yesterday's drama (great title for an emo poem), and I'm over the blue. I think. Eff bad moods.

7) Yay for everyone who voted! Eff apathy.

8) I feel the urge to cook something complicated and impressive, and will be scouring the internet for such a recipe. Eff calorie-stressing (for today).

*This post inspired by Bill, who suggested I just say "Eff it" regarding everything. I'm giving it a whirl in lieu of slamdancing, which he also suggested.

*Name removed due to fraternization policies.

Tuesday, November 02, 2010


To make it short, last night Michael sent me a slew (like, 30) text messages detailing how he misses me, has to see me, and how "what we shared transcends time." He also begged to drive the hour to come see me, and then suggested we get together for dinner the next night. I haven't heard from him since the last time we made a huge, ridiculous mess out of our initial potential perfection (a couple months ago). It took me several texts last night to figure out he was sloshed. I told him I didn't think his girlfriend would approve, to which he responded, characteristically, "I do what I want". I told him I didn't think he should drive anywhere in his condition, but that I'd meet him for dinner the next night.

This morning, he sent a couple of texts basically taking it all back. This is karma paying me back for all the times I've said something I didn't mean while under the influence.

I'm finding it hard to breathe. I've barely thought about him lately, and that was awesome. For him to bust back into my head like this is inexcusable. I loved this man. Why? I can't even remember right now, but I know I did and when he said he knew I was The One, I accepted that blindly and then when it ended I had to force myself to get out of bed for a long time. And today all that came back.

Then I got out of bed, went to work, and that was a fresh hell.

Thank God for hot&sour soup and Bill Corbin, because nothing else today made me smile. Except maybe this text from Brandon:

"Un*&^ingbelievable. I could seriously kill that man for you. I really, really hope that somehow he meets an accident wherein an unlubed zebra hoof is shoved up his ass."

Friday, October 29, 2010

Party on, Wayne.

Creeping out of my mourning and moving into my weekend.

Last night, Brandon and I went to an educational presentation about bats on Shiloh park, where I got to hold several preserved bats. Taxidermy-preserved, not floating-in-formeldahyde. It was good, clean pre-Halloween fun, and it was free. It was excellently presented by Marcus, one of the cooler rangers at Shiloh.

Tonight, I'm going with Brandon, his manfriend, and our buddy Rachel to a haunted house within a haunted house. You read that correctly. Back during the War of Northern Aggression, Col. Fielding Hurst was, according to popular retelling, a bad man who killed lots of people Nero-style and now his house is crazy haunted. In a nutshell. The Hurst Mansion and its cemetary have always been regarded as probably full of spooks and thus always attract tourists around Halloween, but this year the owners are actually staging a full on haunted house to raise money for restoration. Sweet.

Tomorrow night I'm heading to Memphis to see Megan and Co.

Party on, Wayne.

Not veering from this.

"Somebody's Baby" by Jackson Browne is my new favorite song of all time.

In other news, since I'm not gonna hang out in a dragon-guarded castle and give my heart to the knight who rescues me (rescue me from what?...and I have things to do!) and because I like to make things even more difficult for myself, I've decided on my own 21st century version of a "must" list. First guy who:

makes me belly-laugh
makes me think
appreciates my love of horror movies
shows interest in my fiction writing
is really, really into food
doesn't say he can fix my car when he really can't
doesn't get anxious about silence
would probably have relations with Jimmy Page just on principle
can tolerate my penchant for folk and bluegrass
gets really excited about anything geekily paranormal
can be part of a relationship without losing himself
doesn't expect me to lose myself either
references Jackson Browne in ordinary conversation
doesn't wait until conditions are favorable to tell me he's nuts about me
is chill but not patronizing
gets that sometimes i eschew deep in favor of zoning out in front of the tv
gets my humor. this one is huge.
can dig a really well timed high-five
likes to read. this one's huge.
doesn't have a problem with monogamy. (this one is probably the biggest. I'm a one-
man woman. I require a one-woman man. Not up for negotiation.)
can handle unflinching honesty.
will be unflinchingly honest.
will never, ever let me wonder where I stand with him.
will never, ever dress up as an animal in an erotic capacity...


And if he's a crazy-good kisser, that helps. You generally know the first time you kiss someone if there's something workable or not. If it's good stuff, you feel like it's making your body blush.

Monday, October 25, 2010

Just got some bad news. I'm going to sit on the porch and chain smoke for awhile.

Mom took Granny to the specialist today. Her remaining kidney is operating at only 6%, down from 15% just a couple weeks ago. He says to be prepared, that it'll be any time now. Dialysis isn't an option, and Granny says she's ready, and has ordered a DNR. We knew this would come, probably this year, but it doesn't make it hurt any less.

I don't know what to say, so I'm reposting this:

Missed Opportunites and Love of Cake (12-29-09) *

*This is a piece I wrote about my granny's life, from her sad childhood to her complicated marriage. I'm ok with sharing it with those who are interested, but it's close to my heart and now that she's passed, I don't feel comfortable posting it publicly. Send me an e-mail if you'd like to read it. Thanks.

That was uncalled for.

For the first time in months, the Hag made an appearance. About 3AM, it was. I was falling asleep on the couch, on my side, facing the back. I heard her come up behind me, but she was different this time. She kind of shuffled...and then I felt her hand on the back of my neck. My eyes were open and I was struggling to move, and since it had been so long, I didn't immediately recognize what was going on and I was trying to scream. Then I heard her right next to my ear. She's never spoken before, so that totally threw me. She had a rough, black woman's voice, and she was hissing at me, "I'm gonna burn you!". It was very sudden and very loud. That's when I finally got my muscles working and fully woke up. I checked my phone to see what time it was. And went back to sleep, annoyed.

I must have been pretty scared, because Grandma said she had heard something in the living room that sounded like a muffled tea kettle. Which is what I sound like when that happens and I try to scream, I've just never heard it described so accurately. It's pretty creepy. It's only happened once since the divorce, one night when I was staying at the Engineer's house. Hmm.

I blame it on the melatonin, staying up too late, and having been WORKING ON THE OLD HAG STORY right before I went to bed. Kind of a no-brainer. And I'm actually kinda glad she showed up, because it reminded me how scary my story needs to be. The talking...that's new. Glad she shared that.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Oh, and...

Speaking of reviewing last night's texts:

1) __ is still an insufferable perv.But you kinda can't help but like the big lug.
2) Megan is one of the top five funniest people in the entire world. That girl seriously makes me bray with laughter. And Anthony had me in stitches yesterday; his humor is just like his mom's. Exactly. At the circus yesterday, we saw six sheepdogs driving a miniature firetruck. Anthony looked over at me and cackled wildly at the same moment Megan leaned over to me and said "Did you see those dogs fighting for the wheel??"
3) American Aquarium is going to be taking a day off next week...in Tupelo. Aaaaand of course, since BC isn't back on the road until after Christmas, he will not be taking that day off with them. A tragic turn of events that makes me feel like recreating the scene in ED2 where Ash realizes the bridge is out and does that epic "WHY?" bellow next to his car.
4) Every ounce of my being is naysaying relationships at the moment. Good thing I'm so damn good at entertaining myself. Fact is, this year has worn me out, and I'd rather be lonesome than stressing. I still have total faith that the Universe will bring the other half of my own binary star my way. It's just not going to be this quarter, because I wouldn't recognize or want that star even if it tapped me on the shoulder. So Im going to continue not doing any serious dating.

TB...do you happen to remember the beautiful HJ song you penned awhile back? I'm trying to find it.

Saturday, October 23, 2010


So last night I was supposed to go to the Tupelo Underground Horror Film Festival and hang with Gunter, but as I trudged through the front door upon getting home from work, I realized I was absolutely beat. It's been a long week, full of frustrations and miscommunications and new systems to learn, and all I wanted to do was put on my pj's.

So I did.

It was fantastic. I donned my favorite Halloween pajama pants with the little dancing scaredy-cats, and spent the evening reading, watching ghost shows, sipping hot tea, and texting with Megan about educational fare such as Freaky Eaters and Paranormal State. I was asleep by 1130 and I woke up smiling and full of energy. Good thing, since I had to get up and immediately get to work filling bags for this years Grand Illumination. Throughout historic downtown, 12,000 luminary candle bags are placed to honor the 12,000 casualties of the Battle of Corinth. It's Dad's baby, and now it's this big thing. All the downtown shops stay open late, and there are carriage rides and all sorts of goodness. Pretty sweet.

And now I'm heading to Memphis to take Anthony to the circus with Megan.

Back to full speed!

Thursday, October 21, 2010


Can you IMAGINE "Tron" on ice???? That would be the greatest ever!

Wednesday, October 20, 2010


As a former Buffalonian, it has recently occured to me that I should haul ass back up there. There's not much keeping me here, and I have friends there. I look awesome in winter gear, and I dig the snow. (Ha! Get it?)

Contemplation...number crunching....

...I think this is a really good idea.

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

Makeover. Making up. Making out!

Well, the first two are true. This blog, which started out as a stupid retelling of weekly events on which several people commented, has turned into a stupid retelling of nothing but my love (or lack thereof) life, on which there are no comments because exactly one person has access until I get the energy to give this place a thorough enough editing to let other people sniff around again. Namely, changing some names and occupations.

That's a run-on sentence that should have its own facebook.

Anyway, as I resurrect this sleepy hag (the blog, not myself) and make up with old friends who should have been around the past year or so and who will soon be re-entering this corner of the blogosphere, there will be significantly fewer posts whining about my lonely heart, my vivacious but judgmental ladythoughts, and the men who done me wrong (or right, but I'm dissatisfied with anything that doesn't use every shred of my energy in obtaining). It'll come together. I'm not gonna promise it'll get any more exciting around here, or any less stupid, but it will be less whiny.

And will probably have more to say about recipes that use zesty, refreshing lemons.

My Lemon Souffle:

1 egg
1 large lemon, zested and juiced
1/4 cup castor sugar or superfine sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cubed

3 egg whites
5 tablespoons castor sugar or superfine sugar
3 egg yolks
1 large lemon, zested and juiced
2 tablespoons confectioners' sugar for dusting

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
Whisk the egg in a medium saucepan, and mix in the 1 lemon's zest and juice, 1/4 cup sugar and cornstarch. Set over medium heat, and cook stirring constantly until the mixture thickens. Reduce heat to low, and continue whisking for another minute. Remove from the heat and stir in the butter. Divide between four 6 or 8 ounce ramekins. Set aside.
In a medium glass or metal bowl, whip egg whites with an electric mixer. When they are able to hold a soft peak, sprinkle in 1 tablespoon of the sugar, and continue mixing until stiff. Whisk the remaining 4 tablespoons of sugar into the egg yolks along with the zest and juice of the remaining lemon. Fold a couple of spoonfuls of the egg whites into the yolks to lighten them up, then fold in the rest of the whites. Spoon into the ramekins over the lemon curd, and run a finger around the inside of each rim.
Place the ramekins onto a baking sheet, and place in the preheated oven. Bake for 15 to 17 minutes, until puffed and golden brown. Let cool for about 5 minutes before serving.

Monday, October 11, 2010

Yeah, I got something else.

* I hate when bad things happen to my friends and I am unable to do anything to ease their pain. Deaths, divorces, bad breakups, job loss...it's all happened to people I love, and it seems like it's all happened in the last month. I wish I could just...I dont know, hug them and say magic words or something to fix everything. I can't. I love them and I can't. If I could make sure everyone could stay employed or not have to quit school or lose their grandparents or find out their spouses are having affairs or find out the guy who abused them just got out of prison or be protected from a husband who's suddenly violent...my God, what wouldn't I do for my friends if I could? But what can I do?

* Know how I mentioned the nature of love in my last post? I think real love, for a partner or a friend or family member, is just putting their needs before your own. This is something I'm sure good parents can understand...26 year olds? Not so much. But it keeps me visiting my granny even though the nursing home bothers me so bad that I cry all the way home. And it keeps me from taking advantage of emotional vulnerability in people for my own wants. I'm an odd bird...I know that. I see things differently, and I dont think theres much wrong with a teeny bit of selfishness. But there's right and wrong, and the two become clearer as you get older and you just want the best for the people you care about...even if what's best for them isn't you, or isn't you yet...or anymore.

* The diet Pepsi at Taco Bell has that same chalky flavor at every Taco Bell in the United States. What is that???

* I know more about yearning than I ever wanted to.

* Let's have a better time in 2011, ok, Universe? Please?

So much can change in a year, so much has changed in a year.

So it's been a year now since the first days of Luke's and my separation. I have some things to say.

I can:
write, bake, sing (a little), whittle, play viola, groom a poodle, do cartwheels and backbends and roundoffs, file taxes, change a tire, do an oil change, fry chicken, tell you about Roth IRA's, read a map, start a fire, crochet, draw, make from-scratch biscuits without a recipe, identify pottery sherds, use a GPS to map an archeological unit, refund overdraft fees, hold my own in a political debate, tell a joke, walk in stilettos, stay quiet through a whole movie, surrender the remote and not sulk, grow tomatoes, pick out the right melons and avocados, play steering-wheel keyboard, drop it like it's hot, and keep a secret. Among other things.

And really, all I wanna do is share a genuine smile with someone I feel fireworks for.

It may be a long time, because while I feel alive inside again, I'm scared as hell. It's still raw. But there's hope again. I went months without it. I flitted around and flirted and told my friends I was "just fine, hangin' in there", and every second of it was empty. Just existing from one day to the next. It's unbelievable that we give other people so much power over us, and I'm terrified that the next person I love will hurt me like the engineer did. I can say it now: it hurt. I did the worst possible thing I could have by jumping straight into that relationship. I told myself I was over the trauma of the divorce, but I wasn't. Not being in love with Luke didn't change the fact that the person who had been my partner for nearly a decade wasn't there anymore, and I should have grieved properly before looking to Michael. Instead I pushed it down and then when that relationship crashed, I had not one but two traumas to deal with.

This past year has taught me things about faith and restoration and the nature of love itself, and I don't mean just romantic love, but love for yourself and family and for your friends. It would be easy to start waxing (happy rainbow puppies!) platitudes right now, but I'm not going to. Life is real, it's so hard, and the only way I'm going to make it through is by forgiving and loving in spite of the reasons not to. Faith is believing in what you haven't seen yet. My faith is a new baby colt taking its first shaky steps...but it is up and getting around. And it's a quiet, legitimate hope so unlike the frantic fireball of last year's hope I was feeling right before I met MH. It sustains.

Thursday, June 10, 2010

Levity, brevity, shmevity...longevity?

Being out of the Farmington house has had the effect of a bazillion B-12 shots and a good romp, combined with a great fried chicken dinner and the feeling that God Himself is smiling down and giving me the best fist pump I have ever seen.

The last few nights, I've slept like a log. A half-rotting, moss covered log, lying still and undisturbed for a very long time in an enchanted forest. It's been so long since that happened. I haven't had any bad dreams, and no sign of the hag.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010


I just stepped into a public restroom on my lunch break and saw, in the trash that normally contains lady products, a pregnancy test. It was positive.

Someone's life changed today.

I can only speculate as to what sort of situation would have a woman taking a pregnancy test at WalMart and discarding the test there. What a moment.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Maybe it was Memphis.

This weekend was...nuts.

To make it as brief as possible:

Saturday, Michael and I started texting and by the afternoon it was evident that we would be seeing each other that night. Megan really wanted to go to Raiford's but I wasn't so much into that idea, especially with Michael as an option. Keith ended up vetoing Raiford's anyway, so I wound up at Mulligan's with the engineer. It was great. I was worried it would be kinda weird, but it wasn't, at all. We both remarked on how good it felt and how comfortable it was. I stayed the night with him (yes, like that) and it was wonderful. We talked a little about how things had gone wrong, and as always, he pulled no punches.

I hope I'm not misreading his intentions. And I hope he's not misreading mine; I'm NOT trying to reopen our relationship. I'm not in that state I let myself fall into. And he's right, of course; I am better than my previous behavior. I know he's trepidatious about this. And I wish I had a way to let him know that it's not like it was, and that I just want to take everything slow. Slow and as normal as we're capable of being.

As long as his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles, I think I can forgive him damn near anything.

*Update: found out later he had a titled girlfriend the night this all went down. What a moron I've been. And what a bigger one he is.

Friday, May 07, 2010

I don't claim to understand you, but I been lookin around, and I haven't found anybody like you.

Twice in one week.

So the cleanup crew got postponed due to particularly icky contamination issues. With the evening open, I decided to reschedule the date I had canceled with Gordon in order to do the cleanup. I thought about inviting him over, but I've been so restless lately...itching to tear up 72 and be closer to Memphis. So I suggested we get together for dinner. We were texting possible options when Megan called and suggested doing something together after Keith got off work. They live in Olive Branch, which is next door to Memphis. A solution! Gordon and I would meet for dinner in Olive Branch (he lives in Memphis) and then go over to Megan's house to visit with them.

So where did we decide to meet? This little Mexican restaurant I like because you can smoke indoors and the shrimp chimichangas are cuh-razy good. We were having a ball, good conversation, good flirtation, etc. I had my back to the room and felt someone sit down in the booth behind me. It wasn't until the person got up to head to the bathroom (and I didn't even notice him then!!) and come back out that I saw who it was.

Very funny, Universe.

I was mid-story and waving my fork around like the cool, sophisticated person I am, and I noticed a guy slow down and kinda stop right next to our table. I looked up and did a double take, and found myself looking into hazel goodness. Amused hazel goodness. We didn't say anything, but it was friendly (but then, our cruelty is limited to texting, as we cannot actually be around each other and not grin like chimps). He smiled and lifted his arms slightly in a "well, how 'bout that?" gesture. He looked good. He looked really good. Snuggling on my couch and talking about theology good. Geeking out over music good. Genuinely guffawing at each others' jokes good.

This morning there was a little lighthearted texting about it.

On an impulse, I ended up at a restaurant 45 minutes away on a random Thursday. It's 20 minutes from his house. In all the hundreds of places to eat in Memphis/Olive Branch/Collierville, we both end up at that one at the same time. It's also where we went for our first date in his area.

No coincidences. When we're not on the same page, we're not even in the same book. But when the current is there, it's almost eerie. Probably why we spooked in the first place.

My mother continues to hope.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Taken down a few pegs.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my own little dramas and twistings, I fail to see the bigger picture. It sucks when that happens. I've been griping about my misadventures in dating and letting that friend-flirtation gnaw at me while people in my own town have lost their homes to flooding. People have died. Right now at Crossroads Arena, there is a temprary shelter set up for the residents of an entire apartment complex. It's a one-story complex and there wasn't a single home undamaged. Everyone was evacuated, and officials say it'll be at least a few weeks before the cleanup crews can get things in order enough to start moving people back in. The floodwaters were contaminated with all sorts of ickiness, so they're unable to go home and get any of their things. Half of them have cars that won't crank after being completely submerged. Treasured possessions, important medications, neccessities for living, all washed away.

And I'm bitching about that guy in Collierville.

Thanks for the perspective reminder, Universe. I've signed up to volunteer at the shelter.

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

I'm trying not to hate this morning, but...

" Using his sharpest language to date while speaking in Iowa Tuesday, Obama again said that the Arizona law could encourage racial profiling by law enforcement officials.
“You can imagine if you are an Hispanic American in Arizona — your great grandparents may have been there before Arizona was a state — but now suddenly if you don't have your papers and if you took your kid for ice cream, you're going to be harassed,” he said. “That's not the right way to go.”

Former Alaska governor and vice presidential nominee Sarah Palin called Obama’s warning a “myth” during an interview with Fox News’ Sean Hannity on Tuesday.
“It's shameful, too, that the Obama administration has allowed this to become more of a racial issue by perpetuating this myth that racial profiling is a part of this law,” she said. "-msnbc

Really, Sarah Palin? I mean, really? You give Sarahs a bad name.

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

I don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

This post is relaying a hilarious, interesting, relationship-altering night in Sheffield. It's G-rated and there's nothing incriminating about it, but trust me that it doesn't need to be public. Also trust me that you wish you knew about it. Oh, man. Do you ever wish you knew.

1-Gibson (from Old Hag story)

Present Day

Gibson sat in the attic, smoking his umpteenth cigarette and watching the sun begin to rise. The poets were liars, he decided. There was nothing special about dawn; just a gradual gray lightening of the horizon. None of the oranges and pinks and yellows that come with sunsets. He stared out the window, not really seeing anything. Just waiting. Waiting on some kind of assurance, some revelation, something, anything, to ease his soul. To give some balance, to stop the back-and-forth in his mind, rapidly switching from a forced dulling of nerves to a grief that sometimes caught him suddenly crying in the floor, in private. Always in private. Mostly he was waiting on an impossible miracle; it was one he fantasized a hundred times a day. He would feel a vibration in his pocket and pull out his cell phone. It would be an unfamiliar number. He would answer and hear Mr. Braelin? This is ___ at Baptist Grace Hospital. Please come in immediately. There's been a mistake. We have your son, Andy, and he's just fine. He didn't die in the fire at all, it was a mistake, isn't that silly? He's ready to be picked up anytime. That call wouldn't come, of course. There had been the body, dental records identifying the ruins that had once been four year old Andy's sweet face. There had been the funeral last week, a preacher saying ashes to ashes, at which Gib had felt something like pure insanity jolt through him and he had to clamp his teeth down on his tongue to keep himself from braying out laughter at the unintentional pun. Had he done the unthinkable and laughed, it would have turned into an irreversible madness that would have him being pried off the coffin and thrown into the nearest looney bin. He had held himself together, standing next to his wife and keeping his hands on his daughter Reed's shoulders. Reed, six years old, was too young to fully grasp everything that was happening, but Gib understood how important it was for him to be strong for her, and for Amy as well. He made it. Directly after the service, he had stood next to the grave as Amy led Reed to the car. His brother had come up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Thanks for coming, Jim."
Jim had waved a dismissive hand. "We're here for you. Me and Lindy."
They were quiet for a few moments and Jim asked, "Where are ya'll staying ?"
"We're at a hotel."
"For how long?"
"I don't know." Gib stared at the ground. "I buried my son today. I don't know what's next."
"Look...why don't you all come stay with us? We've got plenty of room. I know you don't know what you're gonna do for awhile, but it's gonna take a minute to sort out the insurance and stuff. You don't have to be back at the university til August. You oughta be with family."
"Actually, I've been thinking about moving home."
"Really? What's Amy say about it?"
"She doesn't have to say. She's never liked this city."
"Well come on home for awhile. Think it over."
So Gib had gathered his little family and a few remaining belongings and gone home to Sheridan. Now he sat in Jim's attic, hearing the familiar noises of people beginning to stir below. His phone hadn't rang. His peace hadn't come. The rising sun offered no promises.

Monday, April 19, 2010




I've been wanting to move closer to Memphis for some time now. I just didn't think it would happen so soon. Dad's put in for several hardship transfers out west, and it's just a matter of time. I don't want to go with them and I don't want to get stuck in Corinth, so... to Memphis. I'll be applying for a transfer to a Hernando branch. I think I can afford a passingly decent apartment in midtown by myself, but I'm ok with having a roommate if it means a better/safer place. Apparently Memphis is a dangerous place, and everyone and their ___ keeps telling me. Yeesh. Like I haven't heard. I know its dangerous. But I'll be alright. I'm very smart, and where smartness doesn't play a role, there's pepper spray, and I'm totally getting a big dog if I can manage to rent a house instead of an apartment.

I'm so excited and nervous. I'll be completely on my own. The safety net of my parents will be removed. It'll be...just me. *squeal* In Memphis, a city I have loved for years. I love its vitality and self-awareness and heartbeat. It's something that's missing in so many big cities. I love that I can find really good live music any night of the week, that I can see Megan any time I want, that I'm not limited to McAllister's or McDonald's when I want to eat out. Indian, Thai, Japanese...it's all there, the city itself satisfying my taste buds and my desire for something new, something different, and still offering me the comfort of familiarity when I need it. I wish everyone could see it like I do.

Tuesday, April 06, 2010

"I feel like a banker in this tie."- Major League

So I started the new FSR position yesterday, and it's pretty sweet so far. I've opened two new accounts and I've been studying up on credit cards, CDs, IRAs, commercial accounts, etc. The main office is very much to my liking. I'll be there for most of this month, excluding my vacation of course. It seems I may have stumbled into a career. There are times when I feel asthmatically panicked at the thought of a 9-5 under fleuorescents for the next few decades, but I do enjoy the stability. Numbers don't lie. Numbers can be rearranged and compunded, but they can't be bent or broken (at least not within the confines of normal banking; otherwise you're talking about embezzlement.) I'm liking this much more than I thought I would, and I never thought I would dislike it. I'm digging the office humor, remembering birthdays (and enjoying nibbling the birthday cakes), getting excited when we reach goals as a team. I know that sounds like something off one of those ridiculous inspirational posters that always feature schooners or some guy dangling from a cliff, but it's true.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Since hiking is a no-go.

So tonight I have a date with Chris D. I really don't feel any spark with him and I know his feelings about me are getting serious. I need a way to let him know that I really just want to be friends, so I got Brandon to stage a coup with me. I told CD that my bestie will be in town and would he mind if he came along. He said that's fine. Alrighty. So I decided to call Katie and ask her along, too. I'm thinking that if I make it a little group event, he'll see it for what it is; if I wanted one-on-one time with him, I'd take it. I also decided to have a little fun with Katie by calling her at work and disguising my voice.

Katie: We're having a wonderful day at ___ Bank, this is Katie. How may I help you?
Me: I need to verify funds on a check.
Katie: Ok, well I'll give you our merchant verification number.
Me: You do it.
Katie: I'm sorry?
Me: You. Verify. Funds. Not so hard.
Katie: Ma'am, we don't do that at branch level, but merchant verification will gladly help you.
Me: No, you listen to me. I want to know what's in that account and I wanna know now. And you're gonna tell me. You ready for the account number?
Katie: Um...
Me: Take this number down.
Katie: Look, I don't know who you think-
Me: Katie! It's Sarah!
Katie: I hate you.

Haha! Anyway, so Katie's coming. Hope this goes smoothly.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

California Dreamin.

Grandma Charlie has put back on several pounds and is not only walking about, but driving! (Short distances, but still.)

Aunt Linda and Aunt Laura are doing great.

And soon I will be reunited with these, the strongest women I know. In the California sunshine, no less. I cannot effing wait to get sand in my hair.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The new kid in town.


Sarah: Good day at work?
The Pharmacist: Not really. I come back and no one's been promoting synergy. The giant fish has gone all week unf*****.

Yeah, I like him.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Binary Star.

"If{}two stars should really be situated very near each other, and at the same time so far insulated as not to be materially affected by the attractions of neighbouring stars, they will then compose a separate system, and remain united by the bond of their own mutual gravitation towards each other. This should be called a real double star; and any two stars that are thus mutually connected, form the binary sidereal system which we are now to consider."
-Sir William Herschel

Mark double majored in math and physics, but he sure couldn't make a good pot of coffee. His chest hair couldn't decide if it wanted to be there or not. He's one of only two blue-eyed men I've ever been attracted to, and at 20 he was a virgin. I hear he has a child now (not sure about a wife). Undoubtedly, that child has a poster of Einstein in his/her room. I dodged a bullet there; there is a nursery in my future and it will probably house an Einstein poster as well, but hearing about Mark recently served as a reminder that things are often not what they appear to be. I suspect that my most recent intimate lover is ultimately a fraud.

I write in the meantime. I date, flit, orbit. Observe, play, laugh. Work, eat, spin and fall down solo. Get up solo. Sometimes I wake up crying when my mind kills the people I love in my dreams or makes up horrible things about them. Most of the time, I wake up waiting. Waiting to grow up, waiting for things to get better, waiting for some people to leave me alone and one person to stop acting like a schmuck, so we can maybe orbit together. But the time isn't right. As much as I want it, I can't be a good half to anything yet. You have to be a whole star before you can be binary.

Tuesday, March 09, 2010

Dreaming of storms.

He looks around, around
He sees angels in the architecture
Spinning in infinity
He says Amen, and Hallelujah- Paul Simon, You Can Call Me Al

My past comes back to haunt me periodically. Usually when other things are troubling me; I hate to be superstitious and think of the old adage that bad things come in three's, but sometimes the old timers are right...in fact, the old timers are rarely wrong.

Another adage that I'd like to latch onto this minute is "Don't borrow trouble." So I'm trying not to. Right now I'm alternating between a worry so deep I can't eat and a resigned relaxation, the knowledge that my worrying will not to a thing to improve any of my current situations. What I do know is that all this will pass. What I can do is pray and take the logical steps to resolve what I can, and what I don't feel like specifically addressing here at this time. What I can say right now is this:

I am ready for spring and summer. I'm so ready for sundresses and tanned skin and cookouts, fishing, camping, sweltering days and iced tea, swimming in a creek in Walnut Grove with my family. I want to lie in the grass and hear lyrics in the trees and breathe in the freedom. I'm not talking about freedom from relationships or from work. Just freedom to bask in a piece of an afternoon and make it my own. Share it if there's someone special enough to share it with, and relish it even without.

Really, I just need some good news. I've had my three pieces of worry, and they're enough. I'm full now, and I need some grace.

Monday, March 08, 2010

Fun with texting.

Megan: Thanks for calling on ur lunch break.
Sarah: Ayuh.
Megan: I feel better.
Megan: If I had a beer I'd tip it in your direction, raise an eyebrow slightly. But that's all.

Friday, March 05, 2010

Everybody's working for the weekend.

So now that that's off my chest (for a minute), I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this weekend. Tonight I'm getting together with Brandon and Brandie, formerly known as Branded. *shudder* What a terrible band name. Like Staind or Hinder. We're supposed to write some songs and just hang. Which means that I'll write some lyrics, not get credit for them, Brandie will strum her guitar, and we will all smoke too much and perhaps sip too much. Not too much for me, though, as I'm getting up at the crack tomorrow morning to get home and finish setting up my living quarters. Ideally I'll be finished by noon or one so I can spend the rest of the day reading on a blanket in the back yard. Then Brandon and his sweetheart are coming over and there will be rejoicing and meat on the grill.

I love my people.

Wednesday, March 03, 2010

In which Eve was weak.

Yeah. Despite my moral objections, I can't help it. After a great dinner, great conversation, and a food fight, it's hard to resist some cuddling. And that cuddling inevitably leads to something else we're really good at.

Tuesday, March 02, 2010


I mean, how many enchiladas do you need in order to feel full? Three? Five? Eleven? When is the hole filled?

According to Marketdata, Inc., Americans spent $58 billion dollars last year in the diet industry, including diet drinks, weight loss aids, meal replacement supplements, dieting books, etc. Yet we're still collectively obese. I can't figure out why.

Maybe it's because of this weird "not-enough" mentality so many of us carry around. As a recovering bulimic, I have no stones to throw on that one. Even I can't justify stuffing oneself to maximum capacity (and I especially can't justify feasting just to toss back the feast. It's a rather immoral sickness.). Why? Everyone knows that anything you're given on a restaurant plate is double or even triple what the average human actually needs. Why do we feel the need to clean those plates? Maybe because we paid for it and we feel like we have to get our money's worth? That's essentially paying someone to make you fat and uncomfortable. Why can't we say when enough is enough? "I'm satisfied with a third of this; I don't need any more of it." I think there's a countrywide epidemic of fear of loss and it's triggering overconsumption in absolutely everything. We're wealthy. We're well-fed. We have options. So why are we so uneasy? Why would anyone feel the need to go out and eat seven enchiladas when one or two will do the job? What's missing? We're not all athletes. Not many of us are particularly active. Thus, not many of us needs 4,000 calories a day, but that's what a great deal of us takes in. Ridiculous. It's psychological. It's like how children of the Depression grew up to hoard food. My granny does it. I know lots of grannies who keep canned food not only in the kitchen but in closets, sheds, even under the bed. To me, that is understandable. These people actually knew hunger. Not the hunger that comes from being too busy at work to get lunch, but hunger that comes from living on cornbread and not knowing where your next meal is coming from when the cornmeal is all gone and the shopkeeper can't feed his own family, let alone give you credit. I hold nothing against these elderly people who remember that, and they have a right to the "not-enough" mentality. But people my age? Please. We are children of the eighties. The majority of us never missed a meal, yet we're the worst about overconsumption now. We're the ones who will go to On The Border for the endless enchiladas special. We'll eat all those enchiladas (and chips and rice and beans and flan), and we'll wash it down with a 500-calorie margarita. And once we get home, we'll start snacking. And first thing in the morning, we'll head to McDonald's and take out a couple of biscuits and some hashbrowns when a banana or a bowl of oatmeal would have sufficed.

I recently had someone ask me if I was ok, because it seemed I had somewhat lost my appetite: "I noticed you didn't eat much at dinner last night." What did I eat? I had two enchiladas, a taquito with guacamole, rice, and some chips! Enough food to fill up anyone. This is an example of how ridiculously our culture insists on eating, that after taking out all that food, anyone would think there was something wrong with me and that I hadn't eaten enough. It also shows how much I eat at other meals, that someone would find that highly adequate amount of food to be less than what I normally eat. Indeed, the next morning, I ate my weight in biscuits and gravy and breakfast meats. A banana would have sufficed.

I dunno where I'm going with this. Just that I think we're all so very sick inside. I don't know what we're all so afraid of, or why so many of us feel like gorging is the answer, and then turn around and buy treadmills we don't use and pills that make our hearts race. I don't know why some of us will hit every fast food restaurant on the strip and eat until the point of gastric rupture, purge, and repeat. Hmm. Maybe that's why anoretics are so haughty. They're really hungry as hell, but they at least have found a way to fill the hole; by not filling and refilling it with food. Not eating can be as much an activity and obsession as eating.

I do know that no one, no one, no one, needs an endless supply of any food in one night.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Amor fati. -Nietzsche

"What I believe, Mr. Baker, is that this is all far from over. " Roman Strauss, Dead Again

This movie, Dead Again, had quite an impact on me when I was in elementary school. Yes, my parents let me watch in in 4th grade, but what my parents have always allowed me to view and read is another post entirely. It not only triggered a lifelong obsession with 40's culture and an intense celebricrush on sexy-if-lipless Kenneth Branagh, it introduced me to the concept of renicarnation as a possibility. I fell deeply in love with both Roman and Margaret, and my young mind was fascinated by the concept that there could be someone for me who was predestined, someone I had not quite gotten it right with the first or second time around. Not necessarily a lover or a partner. Even just friends. People whose spirits were so entertwined with my own that death couldn't or wouldn't keep us from hanging together in the next life. Brandon, for example.

I've believed for some time that there are no coincidences.

*sigh* To be continued. For real. I'm not letting this go, it's taken hold.
Continuation 2/26:
Brandon, for example. Some people you meet, you get to know for awhile, you hang out, and after awhile you consider them good friends. You develop a bond over time, but you know deep down that if they faded from your life you might be a little hurt but not deeply so. Then there are the people you meet and it's like a lightning bolt; instant connection. You're friends from day one and it isn't long until you realize that if they were not in your life, you would be keenly aware of a missing presence. You "get" each other. You see each other at best and at worst and you love them for all of it, even if there are times you don't even like them. You will fight, and it will hurt, but you know you will eventually set things right because your relationship is just meant to be in existence. There is the knowledge that whatever happens, you will work it out.
Brandon and I met nearly (*sigh*) ten years ago, in high school. I had never seen this kid before. It was day one of AP English, and he sat two seats in front of me. I sat there, watching him and noticing that he would laugh to himself over things the teacher said, and not laugh at the things everyone else did. For some inexplicable reason, I jotted down a horribly rude, offensive note and passed it to him: "Are you gay? I'm just wondering because my gaydar is totally going off." I passed it to him and watched his ears redden as he read it. He turned around to me, slack-jawed and horrified. Then he smiled and asked the guy in front of me to switch seats with him. We struck up a note-conversation. A best-friendship was born. We quickly discovered that we felt the same about movies, music, politics, religion, and Mrs. Hardin. Words can't describe the connection. I've only felt it so strong one other time, and I'm still seeing how that pans out.
It pops up, just like that. Rarely so strong, but it happens. Megan, for example. And I'm not terribly close with Bill, but I do feel like I can tell him stuff and it's possible that we were chess partners a hundred years ago or something. Something tells me we will be close, in time. Megan...we basically share a brain. Even when I don't talk to her for a couple weeks, I have a pretty good idea what's going on with her. That may very well be because of the intuition in our bloodlines (we are first cousins). For example, this text exchange from 2/28:
Megan: how ya doin?
Sarah: good. laying beside Michael, reading, waiting for him to wake up so we can go to breakfast.
Megan: are ya'll ok?
Sarah: we're friends.
Megan: aw, no. im sorry, man. why are you sleeping together?
Sarah: it's my choice to be friends. and i'm NOT sleeping with him. just sleeping in the same bed. i think itll be fine. he's helping me move today. because we're friends.
Megan: thats nice of him. good friend. is his arm around you?
Sarah: it is. you and i have been quiet lately
Megan: i'm guessing some sort of emotional trauma on both ends
Sarah: something like that. more of an emotional shutdown than trauma here. its a process. im changing gears.
Megan: wish i could change gears.
Sarah: anxious enough to reupholster the furniture for no reason? i'm about to start howling and tearing down the blinds
Megan: you need to come up here so we can go to BWW
Sarah: its a plan. i dont really have much to say about my situation anymore but you can bitch all you want
Megan: as long as the bud ice holds out
Sarah: ewww! newcastle all the way
Megan: newcastle? i bet you got plenty left to say about your situation
Sarah: next friday? if i can stay then that'd be good. i've got a birthday party to go to in memphis saturday night.
Megan: bring it. i'll be waiting on your ass all week. cant wait.
Michael and I discussed reincarnation and fate the other night on my couch. Man, I love listening to him talk. Getting him going on something like that and just hearing that mind work is one of my favorite things, up there with sunflower seeds and reading. We did not solve the mysteries of the Universe that night. We did decide that we are in favor of the idea of life being unscripted, but that we are given certain predetermined plot elements to work with. People, events, etc. We still choose how to react to these things, and we are fully capable of mucking everything up for ourselves. But some people, we are just supposed to meet and some things, we are just supposed to experience.
We are, of course, full of malarkey and speculation. It's fun, though, speculating with him. On my couch.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Why is John Mayer being called a racist? And why does anyone care? Sometimes I get so sick of all this shallow celebrity nonsense, all the ads and the glitter, the insistence that these people are somehow worth more than anyone else, I just wanna pack it up and move to the mountains. In my Uggs and my Wayfarer sunglasses and my knockoff True Religions, listening to my iPod and missing the internet. Heh. Guess I'm just as glossy as the rest of it.

No, no, that's not true. And I'll defend myself, here. The Uggs were a gift. I love them and they keep my feet cozy and I think they'll last a long time. The knockoff jeans make my tail look passable as my body reshapes itself. My iPod is necessary for my survival, as I will shrivel up and die a horrible death without my music. The internet...well, I could live without. It would mightily suck at first, but I could do it. Really, the only thing I feel a little residual guilt over is the Wayfarers. It's utterly ridiculous to spend more than $5 on sunglasses...but, oooh, they're so dark and sleek and that Buddy Holly frame just rocks for this Parson facial structure. They make me feel hip and knowledgable, and they do a damn fine job of blocking out the blinding rays I encounter when heading east on 72 at 7 a.m.

Why the need to impress? Why at all? Got me. But its inescapable and everyone succumbs to it.

Ok, I just got distracted by exciting news about Corinthian history and I have to chew on that for awhile. I'll come back to this later.

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Looking up even more.

When nothing is owed, deserved or expected
and your life doesn't change by the man that's elected
If you're loved by someone you're never rejected
Decide what to be, and go be it- The Avett Brothers, Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of Promise

I just can't stop listening to these guys.


Maybe my special friend will find a way to congratulate me Saturday. I'm so happy about this, I can barely sit still.

A general recap.

Points of interest:

*Valentine's was fantastic. Michael and I went out to Huey's, where I had never been. There was the option of getting dolled up and going somewhere fancy, but it didn't appeal to either of us and I've been craving a burger. So that's what we did. Then we went to a bar for a few beers, and then met up with Megan and Keith at Hooter's for fried pickles and more beer. On the ride home, I fell in love with Unkle. Back at the house, there was Bernie Mac and lovin' (not at the same time). All in all, a great evening. The next morning, we went out to Perkin's for breakfast with his mom and dad. His mom asked me to be her flea-market buddy. (Aww!)It was my first time meeting his dad, but I think he liked me. He's kinda hard to read, but he did give me bacon off his own plate after the waitress forgot mine. That's gotta be a good sign, right? A man giving up bacon? When we got back from breakfast, Michael fixed my brakes and my taillight. While he was at Autozone, I talked with his mom for awhile. We fawned over decorator catalogs and discovered that both she and my mother have a thing about collecting glassware. Neat. When the car was fixed, Michael and I napped and stuff. It was divine.

*There is a new position open in my company that I've been encouraged to apply for. It's basically a floater position, where I would go between the four Corinth branches, filling in as needed for people who are on vacation and such. When no one is on vacation, I'll have a home base. I won't be just a teller, but also a financial services rep, which means that I'll handle the opening and maintenance of accounts, including CDs, IRAs, etc. I think it sounds great. It gets pretty slow at this little drive through and I think I would be happier with more to do and more responsibility. The raise doesn't hurt, either. So I applied and HR told me I'll know something by the end of the week. I really hope I get it. If I do, I'll have a week of FSR training at the headquarters in Jackson, MS. That's where I did my teller training back in October, and I absolutely loved it. That week was wonderful. Part of it was being able to get away and kinda pretend I was single. Not whoring it up or anything. Just getting out of class and exploring the city, taking my sweet time about eating Indian food or sushi, and taking as long as I damn well pleased about shopping.

(About that trip. I think that was the tipping point for me. When I knew I genuinely did not want to be with Luke at all, that I was totally satisfied with being on my own and that I was happier without him around. I was considering all this on the 5 hour drive home, during which time we got into a fight. We kinda made up, and I got home to find...nothing. Now, this stung. This was the first time I had made this kind of solo trip (other than to California, and that's totally different since I go to visit family). It was a big deal to me. So was the drive home through a huge thunderstorm system, which he knows terrifies me. So I get home tired and a little rattled and he barely glances up from his video game. The house is an absolute wreck. Then he has the nerve to ask me about dinner. Seriously. He should have planned that shit. Even if we were just gonna go to Pizza Hut. Honestly, a real husband would have maybe straightened a little and had dinner taken care of. But he wasn't a real husband, and I wasn't a real wife, and his attitude toward my homecoming showed me that he didn't give any more of a damn about being away from me than I did about being away from him. We separated two weeks later. )

*Last night I was driving out in Farmington and I happened upon a litter of puppies that had been dumped on the side of the road. I turned around and went back. Of course, the car was long gone, but the puppies were still there. They were pretty skittish and I could only catch one. I brought him back to the house. Now I'm concocting a scheme to keep him. His working title is Larry. I kinda wanted to name him Jack because he has a white stripe on his nose, but Jack is one of the names I'm considering for a future human son. I've always liked that name.

*Dad's lecture on the Holly Springs raid went very well. I learned a lot. He's so good at what he does, so he can make any subject interesting for anyone. Most Civil War historians are as exciting as, well, accountants. But Dad makes it a story. Good stuff. There was a great turnout.

*It's supposed to be 55 on Friday. Mmmhmm. And it's 70 in Ventura today. This is going to be a difficult California visit, but at least I can sit in the sun and listen to the waves. If I close my eyes right now I can almost smell the harbor, and Aunt Linda's boat. It always smells like fresh quality coffee and a little bit like sauteed garlic. They start out every cooking adventure with it, so it makes sense.

*This grapefruit isn't going to cut it. I crave eggs. And maybe steak.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Friday, February 12, 2010


Michael sent me flowers today (at work, because that's how smart men do it). Beautiful, beautiful roses.

I can't believe how awesome he is. A good soul about that kid. It's my intention to never take that quality for granted.

An hour later a box of chocolate was delivered.
An hour after that, the balloons showed up.


Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Ah, Valentines.

This, the Hoodie-Footie, is being advertised on television as being comfortable, fun, and sexy.


Bwahahahahaha! Look at that thing! The only way to make this less attractive is to have that girl carry around a teddy bear.

Man. Everything about this commercial irritated me. It's worse than the other Valentine's Day commercials. It's for a company called Pajamagram, where you send your special lady gifts sets in the mail containing (you guessed it!) pajamas...and bath salts, oils, potions, etc. Direct quote: "All the spa stuff that women just love!!"
What a perfect idea for the man who has no effing clue who his woman really is. "Umm...she has a vagina. She must love overly lavender-scented cheap bath gel that will probably give her a rash and then it will sit under the bathroom counter because she doesn't want to throw it away but will never, ever use it again. She's a chick. Chicks dig that spa stuff."

No, thanks. I like my own soap and I got over gift sets sometime around eighth grade (though my ex husband was a big fan of giving them to me anyway up to and including last year...the rose-scented was particularly atrocious and eventually ate through the bottle. I don't hold it aginst him because it was hilarious.). I'm only semi- interested in jewelry because if its not on my ring finger it doesn't mean much, and I have as much use for a stuffed animal as I do for a sack of cat hair. No traditional Valentine's stuff for me. I want real things, like kisses and heartfelt words. This year, I want to go out and have some laughs with my boo and then kick it in his room and watch Family Guy in non-footed pajamas.

Chocolate's real, too. The kind with nuts and caramel. Not the kind with nougat, 'cause that's gross.

Monday, February 08, 2010


Whatever is in my parents' house has been...activated. I wouldnt say its a ghost, but there's something there and I think Michael stirred it up. Whatever it is, it doesn't like him. I've been a little creeped out since then, and I feel depressed even though there's no reason to be. It's a heavy feeling. On Saturday, Michael and I decided it felt like an unhappy female. Then I heard that the landlord's son used to live in the house and that he was an alcoholic and caught his wife cheating on him there. So some bad stuff went down, for sure. I'm thinking the bad vibes from all of that just kinda got stuck there.


Friday, February 05, 2010

That was nice.

Last night, I did absolutely nothing. I didn't go out, I didn't have anyone over. I only answered my phone from Brandon, Michael, and Mom. Since it was raining llamas and there's a sweet skylight in the upstairs bathroom, I lit a candle and had a long hot bath, listening to the rain. Around 10:00, I made myself some macaroni and cheese, talked to my fella for a bit, and hit the hay.

It was wonderful. I had happy dreams and woke up with a catlike smile.

I think I'm gonna act like an old person more often.

And by the way, I cannot effing wait until tomorrow. Brandon's coming over tonight to hang out, and then tomorrow Michael's coming over. The plan is to have dinner and then go see American Aquarium in Sheffield. I loooove housesitting.

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Fun with Texting. Heh.

Luke: Has my w-2 from dynamic come to our house?
Sarah: no, i havent seen it at MY house
S: why would it come here anyway? we had our mail going to moms. unless you requested it be mailed here.
L: can you check? arent you at home?
S: i wasnt at home last night. i'm on my way to work, i'll swing by and see if it came yesterday
L: ok
S: nope. no w-2. just an offer to enlarge your penis.
L: shouldn't be needing that
S: are you talking to me?
L: whats that supposed to mean?
S: nothing! i can hang on to it if you want to look at it.
S: there's a really smug-looking lion on the envelope. wonder what's he's so pleased about.
L: what?
S: i guess he has a lot of pride about something.
S: get it?? lion? pride?
L: no i get it its just not funny
S: it totally is
(3 hours later)
L: i dont like you throwing away my mail. keep that for me and i'll throw it away.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, etc. At least we can still josh each other.

Tuesday, February 02, 2010

$400. $400. $400.

home sweet home
Originally uploaded by ladysarahsaint

Forgot how much I love Mark Knopfler.

Juliet, the dice was loaded from the start
And I bet, and you exploded into my heart
And I forget the movie song
When you gonna realize it was just that the time was wrong, Juliet? -Dire Straits, Romeo and Juliet

Really, Phil? Six more weeks of this misery? I demand a do-over.

Oh, I know. You don't have any control over it. You just read it as you see it. I'm not really irritated with you, Phil. I'm irritated about lots of things that ordinarily wouldn't be getting under my skin. I'm pretty sure I have a tetch of Seasonal Affective Disorder, whose acronym is...wait....wait for it....that's right. SAD. Haha! Seriously though, I'm sick of the gloom. I need some heat and some sunshine!

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Fun with Texting.

Sarah: Ok, that's it. As of tomorrow, I'm saving up for botox.
Brandon: I don't think I want botox.
S: ....you should reconsider.
B: well my eyes just get puffy sometimes. i don't have the big wrinkle problems you have.
S: yeah. you should save for lipo instead.
(10 minutes later)
B: i would do wonderfully following in the steps of Patch Adams
S: get an eyepatch, man.
B: huh?
S: wear the eyepatch. the funky, funky eyepatch.
B: no idea
S: nothing. why do you say this about patch adams?
B: i think i would be good at helping
S: word. you can help me clean out my car tomorrow.
B: i mean as a doctor
S: you have to have a certificate or something for that
B: its my calling
S: then why did you get an art degree?
B: we're gonna have to talk later. when you're not a bitch.

Ok, so this is the only REAL brawl I've had. (Repost from 6-11-07)

I've taken to dining out pretty much every night. I had been using this as a good excuse not to clean my kitchen, figuring that if no one ever prepared or ate food there, and there were no dirty dishes, that it would just remain in a clean state (Montana, maybe). I figured incorrectly. As is natural law, if something nasty is going to happen in your house, there must be company there to see it. Now granted, the company that night was Brandon and I'm pretty well past the point of being able to be embarassed in front of him. BUT. We decided to make some late-night coffee. We innocently entered the kitchen anticipating the aroma of fresh-brewing java. I casually ground the beans, measured them into a filter, poured distilled water into the carafe. I opened the compartment that holds the filter, and immediately slammed it shut. Was that a....no, no. Brandon paused in whatever story he was telling, sensing the sudden turning of mood. I cautiously leaned forward, opened the compartment just a crack....and slammed it shut with a bloodcurdling scream. It was. It was a cockroach, the biggest I had ever seen (though I admit, I've not seen many). I stood there, shuddering and stammering. Brandon, very confused, looked into the compartment and reacted similarly. I was overcome with total revulsion, but as I stood there quivering, my disgust slowly turned to something else: RAGE. This was my turf. How dare he?? How dare this audacious insect come into my kitchen just like that? I know that people say that when you see a roach it means there's like 4 million more lurking, but I'm not buying that. This was a renegade, and not a bright one. Probably forced out of the tribe for being a dullard. There was nothing lying about to entice him or any of his kind into my house. Steeling myself, I opened the compartment again. He idled there, regarding me with an appraising eye, sizing me up. Time stood still. His antennae flicked. I squinted, channeling Clint Eastwood. He probably did, too. A tumbleweed rolled by and into my pantry. We waited for each other to make the first move. He started to kick a leg out to run, but something, perhaps my cool posturing, made him hesitate. He knew he'd messed up. I seized the moment. With an adrenaline-laced yowl of fear and triumph, I shot forward, slamming the compartment shut again. Hurriedly, I poured the water into the back of the machine and turned it on. Within a few moments, scalding water began to drip into the carafe. Victory was mine.

I threw the whole coffee pot away.

Friday, January 29, 2010

Decision. * (Alt. title: The heart of the matter.)

It has recently come to my attention that it bothers the manfriend when I talk to other guys, particularly BC.

To this I have to say:

1) He is just a friend. A married one. One that I see, like, twice a year and he's on a stage. We've got a great connection, but it ain't that kind of connection. Our communication is all stupid text, and youd probably be bored if you saw it, not jealous.

2) I'm into you but if you're not going to stake a claim, I'm not going to stop talking to people. No commitment, remember? But if you want the truth, here it is: I want nothing more than to be yours. So stake a claim already. Or shut up.

Thursday, January 28, 2010

Pictures, since all my adjectives are in the shop.

My current obsession.
....no, I don't have any regrets.

How I'm dealing.

What I can't stop listening to.

My current relationship.

What I'm watching tonight.

The book the nice young Asst. District Attorney just walked up to my window to return. Forgot I loaned it to him. Sweet! Thanks, Arch.
What I had for breakfast.
Damn, this girl gets me.
What I wanted for breakfast.
I do enjoy finding friendship in unexpected places.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Take a load off Fanny.

I've given in. I'm broke, I'm trying to go back to school, my brakes are bad, and I can no longer resist my parents' hounding for me to move back in with them. It really, really sucks to give up my duplex. But it's just too hard financially right now. No, this is better. I'll move back in with them for awhile, get my debt paid off, save some money, start a hope chest or something. I hae no idea how long I'll stay there. But I'll have the upstairs to myself, so I think I'll move my living room furniture up there as well, make sort of a suite out of it. Then I'll just kick back and enjoy the free rent, cable, internet, etc.


This blows hard. But at least I won't have to borrow money from Michael (or anyone else). It seriously stung to tell him I'd accept it.

In other news, there's a tornado watch over Corinth and I'm going out for sushi later.

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

More than I probably deserve.

And then a solution presents itself.

If he's trying to make me fall in love with him, it's working. And not because of the money. Because of his awesome heart. I also love that he's making this money a loan and not a gift, because despite my sad predicament, I am a proud woman and it would kill me to just take a gift that big.


Once upon a time you dressed so fine
You threw the bums a dime in your prime, didn't you ?
People'd call, say, "Beware doll, you're bound to fall"
You thought they were all kiddin' you
You used to laugh about
Everybody that was hangin' out
Now you don't talk so loud
Now you don't seem so proud
About having to be scrounging for your next meal. -Bob Dylan, Like A Rolling Stone

A visit to the doctor yesterday revealed that I have lost a whoppin' 28 lbs since I got my own place. That's about 7 weeks, not bad. Especially when one factors in the holidays. It's been accomplished (mostly) healthily and I'm eager to see how much faster it'll come off once I start going back to the gym...which will be tonight, dammit. Last night I laid down to take a half-hour nap and didn't wake up til nearly 10, which had me texting with BC, blasting Lucero way too loudly for a duplex on a Monday night, and cleaning my house. So now that I don't have the excuse of needing to clean, I'm going back to the gym. Hell, excuses. See what kind of braces we put on our brains when we listen to what our culture has to say about exercise? I don't mind working out. In fact, I really enjoy it, especially running. But when I get busy/laid/bereaved/sick over a couple weeks, I start saying things like, "Oh no, gotta go work out blahblahblah". Pssh. I'm totally looking forward to it. Also need to get my pale tail back in the tanning bed. January's half over. Spring is almost here! Skirts! Dresses! Heels!

None of which I can afford. This divorce has really taken its toll on my budget. I've never thought of myself as a materialistic girl. I still don't. But I do like to be able to pay my bills on time and eat. I've been generally living on milk and tangerines, and while I'm ok with that, I would like more options. But the important thing is that I am paying the bills.

Yard sale?

Ugh. I refuse to feel sorry for myself. I'll think of something. Always do.

Sunday, January 17, 2010


She's easy
to see right through
she'll lose that wedding band
when she kicks off her boots
oh, but she's not to blame
it's that danged last name
he's done it to her again
so she's easy....to see right through- Branded, She's Easy

Sooo....Friday night. I'm sitting at the house with a beer, texting with Michael and thinking I'm in for a relaxing, eventless evening. Which is fine, because if you've been paying attention, you know I probably need a night at the house by myself.

Not in the cards.

No, ___ called me and asked me to go to the bar with her. See, her ex is in this local band and he had invited her to come see the show. She didn't want to go by herself and knew how I feel about live music, so she called. What an experience that was! This place couldn't figure out if it wanted to be a biker bar or a dance club. It went for both. I had a lot of beer and a lot of fun. After a few hours, I went home and started to settle in with a text conversation about Bruce Campbell and folk music, when I was reminded (via text. my world is nothing but text now.) that I had told a friend I would meet him for late night waffles when he got off work at 1:00 a.m. This is a really sweet guy, but I have zero attraction to him and I just like being around him in a friendly way. He had asked me out a long time ago before he found out I was married, and when I told him I was indeed taken, he was so embaraassed, he didn't talk to me for a month. He's painfully shy and awkward, and it took a lot of nerve for him to talk to me in the first place. So when we started talking a little bit afte he found out I was getting a divorce, I thought it would be fine to hang out and that and he wouldn't bring all that up.

Wrong. I walked into that Waffle House at 1:30 in the morning with nothing on my mind but bass lines and a pecan waffle. It was dropped on me that he was so happy I went on this "date", and yes, he used that word. *sigh* I told him I thought we were just friends, hanging out, and reminded him that my divorce has been filed but isn't final yet (like it's stopped me from seeing Michael...I'm a terrible person). He got jumpy and red, and thanked me again for going on a date with him and told me I looked pretty... and started yammering about his dogs and football and since I couldnt get a word in anyway, I concentrated on devouring my waffle and answering texts. Yes, I'm a jerk. But he shouldn't have sprung that on me and then disregarded what I had to say about it.

When this was finally over, I got back to the house, had a little more to drink, and texted into the night. The conversation devolved into general stupidity about...not much, but there was a lot of talk about horror movies. I just hate how I I have no control over my thumbs after I drink and I just blurt out in text whatever idiocy is on my mind..and there's always plenty to be shared.

I did not dye my hair yesterday. I did:
-eat Chinese food in hopes of curing my hangover
-ok, really, I ate the Chinese food because it's DELICIOUS
-watch District 9 and Halloween 2...which brought back my nausea.
-walk around next to Brandon at Walmart, in a zombified state, while he peppily talked about shoes and a wedding planning business he wants us to start. Really.
-bathe and re-makeup
-get bored and do my hair in a big Gibson Girl updo, which I then took a nap on and decided it looked better messy and so wore it to the catfish restaurant
-where I ate two whole fish
-and some hushpuppies
-impatiently snapped at Brandon, "I don't give a shit!" when he tried to make me care what movie to get at the Redbox
-which prompted a fight about him judging me for having gotten myself involved with two married men lately, and me reminding him that one is in the process of a divorce and the other is a happy newlywed and that was a stupid assumption that because I'm texting someone, I'm intending to knock boots. Dammit.
-we made up, though.
-but it still bothered me. I love you, Brandon, but you don't need to be throwing any stones here. There is absolutely zilch going on with BC and I don't need you dirtying up a nice friendship with your off-base assumptions.
-I think I'm about over it now, for real.
-and I continued talking to him anyway. *sticks tongue out*
-and had no qualms about stealing the covers last night. You judge me, I hog the blankets.

I did get some writing done this weekend. That bluegrass cover of Dy'er Mak'er that's been stuck in my head for years has finally made its way onto paper the way I pictured it in my head. I've always thought it belonged in some sweetly awkward love scene. Something a little uncomfortable, like a young woman with a much older man, or maybe first time girl-on-girl. Something like that. Anyway, I finally got the scene written, and it's a doozy. Maybe someday it'll actually get filmed.

Now I'm about to jump in the shower and head to Michael's. Cant wait to see him. I've really missed him this weekend, as he's been on a fishing trip with his buddies. From what I hear, he just got drunk and caught a lot of fish. Sounds like a great time. Can't wait to hear all about it and see the pictures! Maybe I can actually relax tonight. I can't say he makes me stop thinking, but he always eases my mind.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Hedwig - Origin of Love

Passing thoughts.

After going out with the W-forest girls and having what amounted to a wake, I sat up and texted Michael, who is kind enough to not hold it against me that I was unleashing my stream of conscious dumbassedness on his unsuspecting phone 'round midnight. He's da bomb.

In other news, American Aquarium is at home for the week before setting out on their next tour. They'll be coming around this area in February, and I am stoked. I've been talking with Bill quite a bit and I'm really looking forward to seeing him/them.

Well the railroad sings a sad love song
and the rain outside just sings along
and we all dance for the lonely.
Over that hill, the sun's waitin for me
up in Johnson City, Tennessee
we got a show tomorrow in Nashville.
So I tried to call you on my telephone
but your answering machine told me you aint home
Baby girl, when you gonna realize
that you can't wash away all your pain
with your dirty wine and cheap champagne?
You're just dancin for the lonely.
And goddamn this city
to hell with the cold dark nights
and my God, you look so pretty
under those city lights.

The last show I went to, two drunk girls begged BJ to sing that one for them outside. He complied, and I watched. He stood on the curb and strummed his guitar and I was fascinated. He makes his life an open book through his songs, but I've never really talked to him, and I don't know him at all. He makes a lot of noise but I can't read him, except to know that whoever screwed him over did a bang-up job. And anyone within earshot can pick up on that.

People like the ones I've mentioned in this post are the reason I write, readers. When I can't understand something, I have to wrap words around it and through it until I've given it fictional flesh and can be satisfied with some kind of answer, even if its one that probably isn't accurate. I love never knowing where inspiration is going to come from.


I am tapped out, World. After work, I'm going home, popping a xanax, and taking down my Christmas tree. I'm only answering the phone for mom, Michael, and Brandon. And I am going to watch Hedwig. Again. And I might watch it again tomorrow and I don't need your approval for it.

Last time I saw you, we had just split in two.
You were looking at me.I was looking at you.
You had a way so familiar, but I could not recognize,
Cause you had blood on your face; I had blood in my eyes.
But I could swear by your expression
That the pain down in your soul
Was the same as the one down in mine.
That's the pain, cuts a straight line
Down through the heart;
We called it love. -Hedwig and the Angry Inch, Origin of Love