Sunday, August 12, 2012


Last night I realized that Sergeant Hathaway needs eventually to take the mantle from Inspector Lewis and carry on the series, just as Lewis did from Morse. I mean, how much more obvious can anything be? In "Indelible Stain," which was repeated last Sunday, the scene went something like:
Professor Rand: (dripping with condescension) I am sorry you gentlemen are not able to see the whole picture.
Sergeant Hathaway: (drily, with restraint) Perhaps that is because it is not being sufficiently framed.

In other news, last night I also remembered that The Muppet Show had a segment called "Animal Hospital" -- I think it was rather a mash-up of MASH and General Hospital. "The continuing story of a quack who's gone to the dogs." When I look it up online, some sites say it was called "Veterinarians' Hospital." Either way, it was fun.

Saturday, June 16, 2012

Only the echos of my mind

Why is "he's afraid of his own shadow" disparaging? Shadows can be really scary.

Recently I was in a department store's shoe section and overheard a young woman chatting about her earrings and fiancé. She said, "I found them online," but I thought she said, "I found him online." I thought that sounded funny -- the next version of will have a screen full of men (or women, as the case may be) where you can click for alternate views and compare prices.

A cat food commercial would be funny if it were from the cat's point of view. Sort of like modern commercials for Prozac and Viagra. In recent years we've had "Meow meow meow meow" (classic!) and "Kibbles and bits, oh boy, oh boy" (not cat food, but same concept). I would like to see a cat food commercial where you're watching a cat skulk around an 800 sq. ft. apartment and hearing the cat's voice-over narrative: "You know, Cynthia and I moved to the city and things were difficult -- I'm an indoor cat, and it was rough leaving that farmhouse. I liked to stalk the mice and then nibble on a tail as I basked in the morning country sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. I was a sad cat in the city until Lila set the first bowl of Purina Cat Chow down in front of me. (Cut to cat sitting with Lila and purring; passing cars heard faintly outside) Now, thanks to Purina, I am a changed cat. Lila, thank you for giving me Purina Cat Chow and giving me a second lease on life."

My mother and I recently were sitting in the 100-degree garage, in the unstarted Cavalier, debating whether to zip over to LGO or wait to hear from Neil and Paul, who were finishing a hike.
Geri: I can't sit here if we don't at least roll down a window.
Diana: Yeah. (Rummages for key) Actually, you can just roll it down -- we don't need to start the car.
Geri: (Genuinely delighted, as she rolls the window down) What will they come up with next?!

Last week Neil and I were getting ready to run an errand. I was feeling rather trollish, but I decided to make an effort. As I touched up my blush and added some lipstick I noticed that it was making not one whit of positive difference in my appearance -- quite the opposite. I thought, "It's kind of like 'gilding the lily,' but in reverse. What would be a term for that?" No sooner had I asked the universe than the answer fell into my mind: "Painting the cow."

How come people say that being dead is like being asleep? Clearly, nobody who has experienced death has reported back as much. If someone is dead they may look to the living as though they are in repose, or vice-versa, but that is what it is like from the outside. Perhaps there is an element to life that has nothing whatsoever to do with the mechanics of the body and brain, and that therefore will not alter upon death? Sometimes we talk about the soul or the spirit being bound to the body, and then after death floating elsewhere. Maybe the soul/spirit/other element to life (not that they are necessarily interchangeable, depending on one's religious outlook, but it's arguably the same general concept here) is not tied to the body. Rather, our sensory perceptions are tied to the body, but our interactions with the universe are influenced by our sensory perceptions and also the "other element," which has neither death nor location.

Wednesday, April 11, 2012

I heart OMD

Last week I was thinking about swear words, particularly those that are uttered during an instant of urgent pain (whether physical or emotional).

If we lived in the land before swear words, how would we express the impact of a dropped hammer on our toes? It's visceral. It would be, to my imagination, like screaming bloody murder at the top of your lungs for quite some time and possibly grabbing the nearest living thing around the neck or punching it. (Which might cause the second party to issue a similar response; moral = dropping a hammer in a crowded room could cause WWIII [although I suppose since we're in the land before swear words, it would be WWI].)

So nowadays, when we confront a sudden and desperate pain, we take a split second to register that hurting others is bad and yell F*************!!!!!! or some appropriate variation. This may be indelicate to the ears of those nearby, but one or two swear words usually serves to encapsulate the trauma of the moment and allow the sufferer to gracefully move on to the next step (checking for blood or whatever) without having to bruise his vocal folds or the neck of his friend.

I think the bottom line here is that swear words are actually a mark of refinement.

Unrelatedly, 45 minutes ago I was thinking about one of the differences between life now and life in memory. Now vs. memory is looking at the same thing from a different perspective. (So is now vs. memory vs. the future, in a weird way.) And sometimes looking at something from multiple perspectives reveals that an element crucial to one view is quite unnecessary to another.

Specifically, I was thinking about how I feel now, which is anxious about how I am perceived, how I am performing, how I will perform, how I will be perceived, blah, blah, blah.

I think about it in the shower, I think about it while I am at work, I think about it while people are perceiving me and I am judging my own performance to be wanting, I think about it while I'm watching Dancing with the Stars. It is like the most boring thing to think about. And yet.

So I was walking outside and the air is crisp and nice. And I saw myself (from the inside) walking and it was just me, walking, just like I would walk to Erin Killoran's house when I was 6 to see if she wanted to roller skate and walk through Manhattan when I was 22 to work at Vanity Fair wearing khakis from Old Navy (!). And suddenly I got a perspective on my anxiety. I mean, I already knew, with my brain, that such perseverations were largely a waste of time, but so do smokers know that they're killing their lungs, right? (Maybe human behavior as a whole can be reduced to a study of the right hand not knowing that the left hand is cutting off the nose to spite the face, but I digress.)

Anyway, I saw myself walking, forever, and thought about how I probably had various anxieties circling in my brain when I was 6, 22, etc., but that they didn't matter, and don't matter. At each point in my life, I am whole and beautiful. And I am walking the earth for a short time. I can be whole or I can deny what I have been given and wrap myself around the axle.

Love, D

Sunday, October 16, 2011


My thoughts of late have included, in no particular order: #1. Boyz II Men

#2. Everything I want is here. Now. I love the words here and now. They are sort of magical. Like, there is here and then there is here here. and so on, all the way to ... my heart? Or where I'm at (as opposed to where I am)? That's cool, because where I'm at may not be where I am. Therefore, the concept of here is simple, yet elusive. Which brings me to another thought:

#3. Last week I realized that I love things that are simultaneously simple and awesome. Like The Beatles. And here. I don't love things that are embellished, unless they are also simple and awesome, because then you can just clear away the razzmatazz. Things that are not simple but are awesome are OK, but things that are not simple and not awesome are largely annoying.

#4. Sometime in my 20s I started to feel a vague kinship with everyone I went to high school with, even people with whom I'd barely been acquainted. All our lives had been touched by Melba Vallas in one way or another. Then, after living in Tucson awhile, I started to feel like anyone who'd ever lived in the greater Phx area was, by association, my friend. Remember when Piestewa became Piestewa? Exactly. Then, particularly after I had been living in Charlotte a few months, I began to recognize everyone who had lived in the southwestern part of the U.S. as my soulmate. You're from California? Awesome, 60 degrees is cold! And now, after associating mainly with people who are 12 years younger than I for the last 5 years or so, I feel intimately involved with anyone between the ages of 28 and 45. "Ow! My nose!" "Gee, Beav!" "Can you hear me now?""I'm dope on the floor and I'm magic on the mic ..." I could go on.

#5. I wish I could see Paul McCartney and Paul Simon in concert. It wouldn't have to be at the same time. I also would like to see the Rolling Stones.

#6. I wish my stomach wouldn't hurt. This afternoon I went to yoga and felt great for the whole hour. I will try to go every day from now on. I love yoga. When I do it every day it opens parts of me so that I can see things that I didn't know were there. Like #2; I think if I want something that I don't have, I merely have to radically adjust my vision, and then I have it. Completely.

OK bye.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

moving on

Neil and I have been going through cupboards and drawers, dividing things into keep, Goodwill and garbage. Last week I was overwhelmed with a bunch of letters from recent years.

Glancing through the letters was a rather painful experience. People had taken the time in February 2006 to sit down and write their thoughts or express congratulations or whatever, and now that moment was gone forever. So I could keep the card as a relic of the moment, but the moment I'd just had was that it was painful that what had passed was no more. So ... the card would be a relic of the pain associated with the distance between February 2006 (or whatever date) and now. And it's not even pain, exactly -- just the bittersweet tic-toc of mortality.

Moving makes everything seem suddenly less meaningful. Forests become trees. Like there's a family photograph on our living room table, and I was cleaning recently and put it flat, thinking, "We're not even 'living' in this room anymore, no need for the decorative charade." And then an expression of life became a photo and I had to sit down and think about that for a minute.

But I digress. I was anxious about sorting through all these letters because they seemed to be little more than "emotional baggage." But then I would think, "Well, they're reminders of who these people are (because they're going to die someday)." And then I would think, "What was that that you just thought in parentheses? That's messed up, Diana! Everybody's going to die someday! Nobody cares if you keep these stupid letters or not. Nobody cares. You will never look back on this birthday card from 2007 and be so happy you kept it. Throw it the freak away. Throw it all away."

So I did, mostly, and immediately felt more calm. Some of the stuff I looked through bore record of events over which I had expended much anxiety and heartache at one time, and I was a trifle shocked to note that, while I recalled said intense feelings, I cared not a jot now.

Which brings me to a second musing: Last week I saw online a quote from Jonathan Safran Foer that said something like, "The only thing worse than being sad is letting others know you're sad." The next morning I read about a memoir that some woman is publishing about how she dated Steven Tyler in the 1970s and he wanted her to have an abortion and he went to the hospital when she did it and snorted coke during the procedure. My initial responses were, "He's a rock star, what do you want?" and "What do I care about your story?" Then I thought about why my reaction was so unsympathetic and I looked at her story through Foer's quote on sadness.

I think the reason it is good and healthy for people to "move on" is because the universe is moving on anyway. Before I saw moving on as putting away old dreams, taking a match to them maybe, and forging on, hoping a new life would eventually assemble itself. But that's the thing: a new life will assemble itself. That's the nature of the earth turning and bloody wounds becoming scabs, then scars, and flowers growing. After thinking about the quote and the woman's memoir, I think "moving on" is important because everything else reliably is going to move on. It's a law of nature. And everybody has a personal set of scars to show for it.

That said, I wonder if I can move on from thinking about the bittersweet tic-toc of mortality, because it's kind of a downer. What does the scar look like for that?

Monday, April 11, 2011

We are all made of stars

I have a fantasy where I don't need to delete 2 applications from my circa '97 mac every time I want to download an mp3.

Neil gives really good hugs.

My friend Beth just introduced me to the moth it is so cool.

I have this other fantasy where Neil and I buy a house and then buy a record player. And then play records. Like I listened to a Christian McBride story on the moth and now I want to buy a house + record player + Freddy Hubbard record.
So cool.
OK I totally gotta go because Dancing With the Stars is halfway over.

Monday, November 15, 2010


Tonight it's ritards, or, more specifically, ritardando. Abby, right after I posted last week I stopped hearing irritating bridges. But I will write down the song name next time it happens.
Tonight it's the song that goes "love, love, love, love ... crazy love" on this Irish singers compilation I have on repeat. Like, a song is really bad and then they do this grand ritard for the 11th repetition of the chorus. Anyone?
In other news, I rearranged the front room and it is more nice and more cozier. I am doing the exact same thing I was doing last week -- fighting with Netbeans -- only the program looks better now and I learned how to avoid the "anchors," which is basically when the application thinks things should look a certain way and you say, "No, I actually want that button over here," and the software says, "Ok, yeah ... I can see that you want it over there but I'm going to keep it here and also completely reorganize everything that you just spent 2 hours arranging."
Neil is good. My car has a mysterious ailment that is very scary-sounding and prefers not to show itself to anyone except me. Which is why I drove to Tucson Car Care today, emergency lights on, hoping the car wouldn't blow up before I got there, and then drove around Tucson for 30 minutes today with a mechanic explaining that, no, it wasn't the CD player I'd heard.
Yesterday in yoga I was listening to meditative singing and thinking about how when you're really open and listen to certain types of music it sounds like an environment for the spirit to move through. And then I was thinking about Heaven, and how one conception of it is a sort of space for the spirit, and I was thinking about the music -- like, the vibe -- in Heaven and then it seemed like, wait, the spirit doesn't get born when you die -- it's here right now. So what kind of space is my spirit in right now. And the music was so cool and it made sense in a way, that, like, the spirit's environment can shift, so the "music" of it would maybe be a little more complex or a little more bucolic, depending. And if I am to follow that line of thinking, then all the time my spirit has its own environment, which is different from this living room and different from my brain. With some kind of music playing and some kind of mood. And I can tune into it whenever I want.
The concept of environment is very interesting this week. What do you[s] think?

Saturday, November 06, 2010

too much caffeine in my bloodstream

Tonight "Take the Long Way Home" sounds especially cool. Supertramp, I think. Maybe I'll listen to it tomorrow, as a palliative measure. Because heaven knows it ain't going to fix my compiler. Speaking of, lately I have been really peevish about bridges in bad songs. Like, I'll be driving to work and listening to the radio, maybe tolerating some lame song because it hasn't fully entered my consciousness that a lame song has come on and needs to be changed, and then the song will go into the bridge and I'll be gripped with indignation. REALLY? This song was so boring and lame and they're giving it a BRIDGE? That is 5x as boring and lame as the rest of the song? I don't know why, but this has struck me lately as such ridiculous insolence.

Lately I have been thinking about braised pears. I'd like to make them ... sometime soon. Also, I wonder if HealthSouth will give away turkeys this year.

Wednesday, November 03, 2010

I am wearing SPF40 and haven't been outside today

Edit: Didn't go outside today. Because now it's night, so "haven't" implies that I still could. And also, technically, I did go outside today, although it was to get laundry out of the dryer and so was under cover of the patio awning. My friend Beth just texted me "yoga?", which is a really good idea. So I'd better make this short. I think I wanted to say ... that yesterday I realized you could sing Stevie Wonder's "Part-Time Lover" and Hall & Oates' "Maneater" simultaneously. And also "NetBeans," the awesome-and-cutting-edge-yet-imperfect application I'm working in, would sound really good if substituted for "Head Games" in the Foreigner song called Head Games. And also ... no, I totally forget. Hi. Bye. And also I am unable to upload my picture of Paris.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

A Day of Rest, even though it's Saturday

My dad said today is a day of rest. I am sitting on the porch. In front of me, on the other side of the screen, the sprinkler is sprinkling daisies and sunflowers and some pink flower and tall green stalks. Butterflies, monarchs and otherwise, are busy amid the flowers. Wow, there's this one butterfly that's bigger than the hummingbird that just passed by. I sort of was under the impression that hummingbirds didn't live outside of the southwest. The air is alternately filled with swells of insects and birds, like finches. And sometimes cardinals stop by.

My dad is drawing a few yards away, inside. He's listening to the shuffle Eliza gave to him a while back ("Tell Eliza I'm going to glue this to my ears"), and he just gave me 1 phone for a sec so I could hear a Joni Mitchell song. Which reminded me of a recent conversation I had with Matt and then Ryan and Jessica.

What 5 singers have had the most influence on your life?

My answers, in no particular order:

1. REM
2. Suzanne Vega
3. Paul Simon
4. They Might Be Giants
5. I can't remember. Kate Bush? The Smiths? I remember that it was good and true, but I can't remember what it was. Matt or Ryan or Jessica, if you are reading this and you can remember, please inform.

And also:

What 5 albums THAT WERE NOT RECORDED BY ANYONE IN YOUR MOST INFLUENTIAL MUSICIANS LIST have had the most influence in your life?

My answers, INPO:

1. Clouds - Joni Mitchell
2. Doolittle - Pixies
3. Substance - New Order
4. In My Tribe - 10,000 Maniacs
5. Outlandos D'Amour - Police

That's, of course, given that Kate Bush and The Smiths are both on the previous list. ... I think Thriller is also supposed to be on the album list, maybe edging out In My Tribe. This is getting really confusing.

So, whoever is reading this, please submit your top 5 + 5, if you wish.

Being away for 8 weeks is interesting. It takes, I don't know, 2 weeks to have a New Experience? Like, maybe you are thinking about something today. And tomorrow you can think about it and the next day you can think about it and it still has essentially the same level of temporal relevance. But in two-ish weeks it will be what you were thinking about two weeks ago. Because in two weeks you will be thinking about slightly different things, in a slightly different way. So 8 weeks is a long time.

When I first got here, life in Tucson pretty much seemed, in my brain, like it did when I was in Tucson. But now it's different. Life in Tucson has been sifted through, so when I think of it, I think of Neil and my friends and family (in Tucson/Phx, Phx) and the warmth and the LACK OF HUMIDITY and the Catalinas and Yoga Oasis and walking to the coffee shop and crickets and stuff. Tucson 7 weeks ago was all these things, plus stress from school and anxiety about the internship and anxiety about I have to stop at the dry cleaners and anxiety about I have to find time to take the car in, etc.

It's nice to be away for more than An Experience Unit so the reality of now can kind of be distilled. There are other pink flowers I didn't notice before, in the distance. They are more of a hot pink, and huge! Like pink butterflies.

Write back.

Sunday, April 04, 2010

la vida loca

"In the midst of life we are in death, et cetera"

Last night I went out with friends it was fun.

In text messages I write in this telegraphic way and I noticed it's leaked into my emails. ... How will the next generation of children be composing letters I wonder?

Remember letters? Remember when mail used to come on Saturday? Wait, I am ahead of myself. Remember when we were thirtysomething ... I remember when I was 16 or 17 I would listen to songs like, "These are the days ..." or "Look at me, proud of being 17 ...", and I'd think, "Yeah, I am so in it, I am so there, so 16 and-a-half and loving it and it is really great and don't forget it because I feel really great."

Remember when we didn't know Ricky Martin was gay?

My friend and I were discussing last week how tired the observer-of-life trope is. Particularly in music lyrics. You know, like, everybody else is in it except me I am detached can I have some more gin please.

Bo-ring. Unless maybe if it's ironic.

I think, specifically, we were thinking of Jackson Browne, who is not really ironic.

But I like "Running on Empty."

I wonder if that show Thirtysomething would be any good today.

Today I read something about the Discovery Channel's Planet Earth and Life shows. I never watch the Discovery Channel but they look so cool I can see myself quieting down in this alternate universe and putting them on. Happy Easter.

Thursday, January 21, 2010

thursday night

It might be fun to have a rock band called The Delicates.

"Dry Clean Only" could be the first hit single.

My left trapezius huuuuuuurts.

But I got a Tiger Balm patch that I may break out at work tomorrow.

Does anyone have any ideas for peace?

Sunday, January 17, 2010


I want to work in databases or informatics for genetic research.

I want to work in cancer research.

I want to work in international health, like documentation and sharing and collaboration and researching who does what with what with what resources. (Like in Atul Gawande's book "Better" -- is it always expensive surgical equipment that determines success, or are manual skill and a deep comprehension of the task sometimes underrated?)

And also, in international health, what diseases are seen more and less in what countries among what populations, and WHY?

I want to work in governmental research, like at a policy institute.

I would LOVE to be part of some project that would streamline the federal government so that we were putting tax dollars into systems that worked and returned in dividends, rather than endless bureaucracies. E.g., our educational system is atrocious.

So does anyone want to give me an internship this summer?

I have no work experience in CS whatsoever, but I have a lot of school learning and a great attitude and I will wash your car.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

in tha house

I am briefly moved by the awesomeness of paul simon.

This week at work I almost fell over when a patient's family member complained that the reason the patient wasn't getting more coverage from AHCCCS was because AHCCCS is busy covering U.S.-born children of "wetbacks."

Maybe that language/logic flies in Michigan?

No offense.

I have been in a bad mood this week. I go to yoga and my backbends feel anchored by gravity. I want to be pulled up by the moon. Today was my first class. I like the energy coming from the professor. He runs. He runs marathons in Australia and Rome. He is roughly my age. Sarah's age. He said each week-long homework assignment will take a minimum of 20 hours. No late days. My brain felt like what just happened when I put half a cup of coffee in the microwave and (for the first time, since I only recently discovered the button) pressed "reheat." The coffee boiled over, perplexingly. I hurried home and threw myself into cleaning the spare room, goodwill bags at hand. I guess that's where the analogy ends: My brain wants All Clutter To Go Away -- it's distracting and wasteful and, arguably, pulls me down. Especially when I need to focus on algorithms. The coffee problem was solved with a couple of paper towels. Maybe the brain/coffee issue has a similar prevention tactic though, along the lines of know what you're getting into? No ... Don't collect dust? Ok, so there's no similarity.

Last night in yoga one of my favorite teachers said something to the effect of, If you're confused or feel lost or overwhelmed, just show up to where you're at.

Sunday, November 08, 2009


Monday, September 21, 2009

java in c

I am listening to a cd with "yoga" music I like this song because it has the sound of a meandering stream and birds and soft little bells and stuff. I am learning c rather painstakingly I mean it's not that hard but it's also not java. But it's not that hard because I know java. But that's why it's painstaking ... because it's not java. Speaking of java, I am doing tomorrow's c assignment as a break from java. We have an assignment due Thursday that is an extendible directory and file of binary records. Except the directory points to the hashtable, which points to the file. And it changes dynamically. And somehow my array of DirectoryObjects, when they get in the range of 1,000,000, take up too much space. So I need to A. make them smaller, B. not make them if they're not used, or C. Convert my entire program to support a different data structure. I think A is improbable and C is the smartest solution. Therefore, I'll probably go with B. I took a bubble bath, which made me feel nice. And walked to the coffee shop. I like how neil prunes the houseplants. It reminds me of The Karate Kid. I am stressed out from school and whatever but that is just on the surface. Like how when you cut the mold off cheese the rest of it is fine. That was an inapt analogy, in part since cheese can get old and hard, irrespective of its mold status. I am happy. At Raging Sage I had a plum cake that was really good. Wish me luck on my c encryption code!

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

before & after

Thank you for your gracious help. Today there was a rainbow. Some chick was on npr singing "I remember you." As marian mcpartland noted, she got lost in the song.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

haircut? votes?

Friday, June 19, 2009

the twelfth day

I am happy to rest this weekend.

This morning was moist. I realized that I would like to be on a ship with the ocean breeze on my face, doing yoga. Then, later, I realized that somewhere in my dreams last night somebody had named their child "Jordan Marsh." Queer. Then, later than that, it rained. I was at work. A number of us were excited. We none of us could remember the last time it rained. I feel another cold developing (apparently colds have parallel capabilities, since my last cold remains yet), but I am hoping it is a response to the change in air pressure and will ease off without attacking my tonsils.

It's kind of worth it, anyway. I am sick of being sick, but rain is cool. Last night I finished Pride and Prejudice (1995: 5 hours long in total) and I'm a little nervous. I mean, how do you follow Colin Firth? Neil is at the supermarket and hot toddy ingredients are on his list, so hopefully that will help me through this distressful period.

Plus I have a few versions of Sense and Sensibility, Mansfield Park and Emma that are as yet unseen ... but I am trying to pace myself. I was thinking the other day about how I wish somebody would make some really good adaptations of Edith Wharton novels (anything with Gillian Anderson does NOT qualify) ... and then, gradually, it occurred to me that it's OK that every single terrific book hasn't been adapted into at least three terrific movie versions ... because I can just READ the books.

It is revelations like these that remind me that returning to college in the fall may be a tad beyond my capabilities.

But that's late August. And now it's the weekend. And I just worked 12 days and if right now I just want to read The Nine and softly blow my nose and smile at Neil and whatever, that's OK.

And also, Sacha Baron Cohen is not funny.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Sunday Night

I worked today. After work I went home. I ran/walked 2 miles, which is far, far more exercise than I've had in the last 6 weeks.

When I got home I hurried to turn my heaving, red, sweaty self into something wedding-appropriate. Because I need to be at one in 60 minutes. Across town. And then I realized the toilet wasn't flushing. So, between combing my sticky, salty hair, slipping into a lbd, and attempting to mask the smell of sweat with secret solid, I poured bleach into the toilet bowl and, 10 minutes later, flushed.

Still didn't flush. Well. I did not have time for this and certainly would not have time for it getting ready for work tomorrow morning. I decided to deal with it when I got home from the wedding. And also, I knew I was hungry sort of and I knew I have a little problem with low blood sugar, so I put two frozen jelly donut holes in my mouth on the way out and gave myself a pat on the back.

In the car I called my landlord (who lives in the guesthouse) just to see if their toilet was having difficulties too. You know, is it my problem or a problem with the whole line? My landlord inquired as to what had happened when I plunged it.

Plunged it?

The moral of which is: Two donut holes are not enough.

Although, technically, I just got home and am sitting here in my lbd and have not plunged it. So maybe it won't work anyway. But it had better. At the wedding each guest got a little folded piece of paper with a live butterfly inside, to release after the vows were exchanged. I was worried. I let my butterfly out ahead of time but 20 minutes later it was still hobbling across the grass.

I miss Neil. Bye.

P.S. Do butterflies have hearts? Do caterpillars have hearts? Do caterpillars have like 15 hearts? I will investigate.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

because the semester is almost over and I have time to think about things like this

Simplify. That is my favorite word this week. Yesterday before work I cleaned out the closet in the spare room. My objective is to give a large percentage of the non-crapola items in our house to Goodwill -- not because I am seized with charity, but because I want to have less. Stuff. So we're going to streamline.

Stuff clutters my brain. Maybe if I have less stuff I will have more room to remember how to implement combination without repetition when I am given a problem on my discrete math test (a skill I know but apparently which flew out the window when the test was before me Friday. I think my printer adapters circa 2001 and old magazines crowded it out).

So in coming days and weeks and months, I am going to focus on items and tasks that I like and that bring me peace. Items? ... Nothing, unless they are part of an enjoyed task. Tasks? Being with Neil, preferably with no electronic 3rd party, although a movie is OK ONCE in a while. Being with and communicating with family and friends. Reading. Eating good food. Moving around, which includes: walking, jogging, hiking and yoga. So that's pretty much it. Of course, there's other stuff I like, like my jobs and politics and programming, but I do those anyway.

It is 77 outside and gor-geous. And Thursday there's a 40% chance of rain, which is also awesome. Amye, call me because those tix to SLC are cheap and may go fast. Emily, are you coming home for Christmas? I'm going to go finish my ironing with Keith Jarrett. Both doors are open to this beautiful day. My mom made us delicious french toast and sausages this morning while we talked turkey. How many people think my dad should hire himself out to organize and decorate people's houses, including staging a house that's for sale? Actually, my mom probably would be great in real estate AND could bake really good cookies for open houses ... but I digress.


Monday, July 28, 2008

rough draft

Wanna see something cool?


This weekend was so fun.