geminiwench

I have THINGS to say!
IMPORTANT things!

But I have 5 minutes till this coffee hut closes and ruins my chance of sharing my personal insights which are O So Interesting...

Wait.. no, its saving you from them.
We must thank 'closing time'.

This is entry 3,502.
Uhhhh....

That is all.

Someday I'll be too old to get into trouble, right?

Except, except.. I admit it... Im 'risky' sometimes. It HAPPENS, right? The thrill of ignoring a rule that I think shouldn't goddamned matter..
So... apparently when Im too old for that non-chalance for rules, I'll be too old to get myself into pickles over stupid things?
Perhaps, perhaps... I mean, its not out of the QUESTION...

In other news... what ARE the other news?

O yeah, life is... ya know... its like... wonderful.
Really, easy and wonderful...

I have lots to complain about.. and I've been known to grumble even in the best situations (and smile during the worst) but... the reality is is that things are SO good... I am SO happy... I cringe looking over my shoulder wondering what boulder is coming for me.

This happiness is too wonderful!
I will be crushed as due payment!

Every good thing is connected to a bad thing... every bad thing, a good thing.
That usual uncertainty is what drives my finely balanced erraticism that I pretend people call 'charming'.

So where have I been that life is so blaringly... bizarrely wonderful?

Uh... its so good, I want to hide it from the world in a little box that I stroke surreptitiously in my pocket ALL THE TIME. I will call it 'my precious' and snarl at anyone who attempts to interrupt me.
Ok.. ok... its not THAT bad, but its close.

Last night, I opened one my bedside books... and a love note falls out.
This is the eighth such note I've found since Friday.

I've been seeing this wonderful man for nearly 3 years... much more seriously this last year... and instead of becoming distant, indifferent, cold, insensitive and mean... he doesn't do ANY of those things? In fact he continually gets... nicer? More thoughtful, warmer, more passionate...?
This is.. well, lets just say this is not what Im 'used to'.
This is lovely, as well as frightening. What can I say? When nice things are done for me within a romantic relationship, its presence is often connected to some character alibi for past/present/current 'mistakes'. Enough of that will make a girl run screaming from a bouquet of posies or call her most supportive friend when surprised with tickets to a show. "This is awful! He keeps being PERFECT! This is... a conundrum!"

But so far I can't find the downside of requited love with a person as honest as the day is long, romantically thoughtful in ways that I didn't think existed outside vintage French films, and whose eyes light up at the mention of visiting the library... or me. He watches Nova for fun, fixed my problematic alternator lickety-split, made dinner for me even at midnight and... remember... he left me love notes all over my books and house.. some of which are sexy nudges to learn advanced algebra (my nemesis)...

Uh.... you see why this is a problem, no?

No?

NO!?

Its plain as day!

I smile more, I read poetry, I sleep more and eat less.
Love, you dastardly bastardly rascal! How did you get in and make this whole place yours so EASILY?!
You're not satisfied with affection, with longing, with loving shared kindness... you gotta swoop me up with a lovely man who OBVIOUSLY read my personal cribnotes for a partner... and act like.. thats just the way it is?

Untrustable!
Its too wonderful!

Just... ya know... sayin'.

So, that's what I've been up to.
I moved from the crazy lady's abode... and we're all the better for it.
I've been head-over-buckets in love for quite some time.. and its only getting worse.
And right now Im watching an interview on CNN where Kevin Smith is being interviewed on the subject of bigotry and justice in America... and this was supposed to be tripe, but the problem with asking Kevin Smith a question... is he gives you real anwers.. and fat jokes. That is awesome.

I watch the news... too closely. Its a problem...

I am enjoying, "Science, Liberty and Peace" by Aldous Huxley way too much. Makes me want to read Einstein's collected letters again...

Makes me ache to read Gandhi's autobiography.

Im re-reading Ovid's "Art of Love", reading Inga Muscio's "Love: In Violent Times", reading Tom Robbin's "Another Sideshow Attraction", reading Scarlett Thomas' "The End of Mr. Y", reading Stephen Leacock's "Too Much College", reading Serviez's 'Lives of the Roman Empresses', reading "Sexual Life in Ancient Greece",...

I can't wait to get back to my old schedule of reading all day.
That is what Im going to do for awhile. Read. All. Day.
Break with naps.. food... sunshine...

Oh.. and get tutored in Algebra so college doesn't laugh at this little girl.

We'll see how the Summer goes.
When I have a car that travels places (I bought one... but it turns out it has only traveled to the mechanic so far...)

We'll see if there is a particularly upset note on my door when I get home.

*hope not*
And then?

Im starting this out while listening to Toots & The Maytals "54-46 Was My Number"
Is it possible to listen to this song and not groove?

I've been... away. I assume you've noticed, and if not.. thats understandable.

Right now Im looking out at a grey day in Pullman, Washington waiting for Ryan to get out of school so I can scream, "WE'RE GOING TO WATCH 'JOHNNY DANGEROUSLY' AND YOU ARE GOING TO LIKE IT!" I think that is a perfectly appropriate thing to scream at a loved one, don't you think?

My trend for moving continues. The longest I have ever lived in a single place was 2 years. That's the record. I just counted.. I have moved 14 times since I was 19. WHO DOES THAT? I just moved twice in 3 months. THAT'S how.

So that has been the drama that has been running my life as of recent.

When the 4 of us in The Big House decided to scatter, I moved in with a friend I met through KYRS who was a local fine arts professor with a newly purchased Victorian house she was remodeling. For part of rent, I would house sit/dog sit while she was in Prague this Spring, and otherwise I would pay rent and be a housemate.

That was such an AWFUL idea! Just truly, truly... horrendous.
I didn't really know the woman and it turns out she had been shopping around that idea for quite sometime before anyone was naive enough to accept living with her. It turns out she is very controlling, aggressive and has a very short temper.
Did you know that the best way to piss off an aggressive, short-tempered person is congeniality and agreeableness? This... I've now learned.
So, for three months I shared a house with a lady who would offer me screaming/crying/shouting/finger-pointing diatribes against me and everything that I am while I stood there with a look of shock and awe on my face wondering, "Is this REALLY because I put a plastic spatula in with the wooden spoons? REALLY?"

But, now I know exactly what kind of face I'll be making when the apocalypse comes... because I made it in the living room we shared while she screamed and pounded the floor for two hours calling me stupid and manipulative...

Its a look of surprise and bemusement. A look that says, "Wow! So THIS is how its all going to end. Who knew?"


When I have problems with someone, I go and complain to my friends... that's what friends are for, right? And, my friends happen to be a cut above the rest when it comes to advice and help... but I can't help being suspicious that they always are strongly in my corner. They say its because they trust my judgment and know I don't behave irrationally in general.

But, stories have been coming in from The Other Side, which are reports from her own friends and loved ones.. people who admire her and her work.. and it turns out, they all think I did an excellent job of trying to handle a difficult person who, although they appreciate her and who she is.. would never, under any condition.. live with her. Apparently her 'artistic' personality is well known... and I just didnt know her well enough to know it.

Anyways, now I have moved out of that situation into a little apartment in Brownes Addition, (a quirky old neighborhood just outside of Downtown Spokane) and its no surprise that life is much easier when I don't feel like Im sleeping IN a minefield that could explode with curses against my name at any given moment.
Ahhh... like a breath of fresh air.

Ok, ok, there are other news, other stories.. things worth telling in my very own way, and that may even very well happen! I mean, its possible, right?

I am notoriously in a down and melancholy mood every New Years.
Its been a bad habit since my high school days.

Today I got up early, spent awhile looking at apartments and calling numbers on For Rent signs until my car overheated, which is what it does after about ten miles.
Tonight, I just got off doing Radio. My music picks betrayed my usual New Years mood.
Visiting Rashonda/Jesse who is visiting Jax for New Years... I hear Jax is making a cake in the shape of the Tardis to celebrate!
11:30pm New Years Night... I will be clocking into work until 8am New Years Day.
O yes, I AM a party animal.

I am here! On the INTERNET!

But its for business, I assure you. Pure and unadulterated business... and this wee pleasure of sharing my sharingness with folks for a moment before I blast back into the past where the 'internet' is nothing but a rumor and the '88 Chevy Corsica is the most stylin' compact sedan... ie: my life.

My hands are falling apart.
I hate winter,.. it turns my hands into a cracked, dead things waggling at the end of my wrists.
I hate winter for so very many reasons, but this is the reason that is right in front of me right now.

Today, it was decided I needed to move out of my current location.
It was mutual.
As in: "I want you out of here by the end of January!"
I enthusiastically reply, "That sounds GREAT!"
Because it is great.... except the moving part.
Especially moving.. last minute.
.. in the cold cold wintertime.

This morning I asked if there was just a garbage truck or a garbage AND recycling truck that picks up the trash.. ie: one pick-up or two...
This is what proceeded a two hour... uh.. lets say, 'tirade' from my housemate/landlord/beast master which ended in our mutual decision for me to get the fuck out as soon as possible. It included her comparing me to a stupid-for-a-goldfish goldfish and me comparing her to a hail of fiery rocks raining from the sky.
See? It was totally mutual.

I see this as a Good Thing.
Except, now I gotta go craigslistin' and repacking boxes I JUST UNPACKED.
But, so what? Thats ok, that sounds better than living in my current situation where I feel as welcome as a slavering molester at rape victim group therapy.
She feels the same. We are in agreement.

For two hours I was treated to screaming, crying, yelling, pointing, stomping, pounding, keening, shouting and a whole lot of me getting told, "how it is" with a strong dose of, "what [my] problem is". (generally that I am a lying, manipulative and stupid childish girl who is using her unrepentently)
Good to know you feel that way, lady. Thanks for the info.
Now,.. please stop yelling and let me sleep.. I just worked the overnight shift at a facility for people with mental illness and you are totally out-performing all of my residents put together right now. She was literally on her knees, pounding the coffee table SCREAMING at me. Apparently she feels strongly that I am a really horrible person to live with.

But, but... not all is doom and gloom.
I can afford to move, all my friends are clamoring to help and support and send notes of love...
I also have been subjected to some very kind, very thoughtful gifts that have really put a hop in my step and a happy sigh to my heart.
I am not alone, and probably not totally as hateful as one person thinks I am.
Probably;)

I am FREEZING in the KYRS production room right now.
Im supposed to be home organizing my spice rack OR folding tarps OR locking up my shovels OR reupholstering my couch OR washing my genitals OR hand rolling spicy meat-a-ballas OR the 500 million things Im supposed to be doing at any given time... but obviously Im not. Im here.. shivering in my ugly sweater, typing this swill while listening to Rusty cuss like a drunken sailor 2/3rds of the way into a quart of rum after finding out a kraken ate his baybah.

Yeah. You heard me.

I have so many things I want to write about.
How have there been changes in the mere 12 days since I moved?
BUT THERE HAVE!

Someday I will have time to write.. and I look forward to it.
Right now? Im looking forward to tomorrow. Im reaching Pullman around 7.
Dont expect me to put on clothes again till Wednesday.

Also.. miss Lauren... I went to see Jonathan Coulton open for They Might Be Giants.
The night included high-fiving John F's foot, getting a setlist from BOTH acts and getting every-bodies scribble-scrawl... except John L... who ESCAPED ME.. perhaps in a personal spacecraft or hovering pod (sombrero?) of some sort.


Maybe in the meantime I can type to you like a human being.
Whatever that means.

I cant wait until my current writings are as embarrassing as my diary from 1997 I just found...
I had started it the day I found out my childhood neighbor/friend/enemy had killed himself 80 feet away from my bedroom. You'd think it would be less childish for its diaryeal hymen to be pierced by such a topic.... but, no.. I was an embarrassing mass of emotional immaturity like all 15 yr olds.

The 'webz' account is travelling with its account holder tomorrow....
I will be unable to pester the netz with my prezenz for a wee bitz...
... obviously that is a good thing.
You are safe. For awhile.

Still dealing with the minutae.
It took 19 crates to hold the books I have left.
This number does not include:
The crate of children's books I gave to a friend.
The crate of gifts for friends.
The crate I am selling.
The crate I am donating.
I have a portable handtruck specifically for the task of moving my books. I was scooting them around today on it and I had to giggle. The handtruck was one of mom's amazing presents... she is a bibliophile, too.. ya know. She knows.

I think we'll have a yard sale... I have some furniture to get rid of, a desk, a bookcase, a glass shelving unit, a funky round super comfy chair, a tv... or two. Figure out what to do with the couch from the basement. Woosh... there be a lot of stuff in this house.

Trying to find the army to help me move. I am.. useless. I am a floppy bit of human weakness useless at most strenuous physical strength and endurance challenges. Thats why I provide a good spread of food and booze... to tempt (hungry/angelic) friends into helping me get those 19 crates of books up a rickety stairwell along with a couch, mattress and other assorted sundries like my battalion of ceramic dogs with graphic human male genitalia.. and accidental collection of cribbage boards you know, the important stuff. Also: DUDE,... how much lotion do I need? I could supply a boyscout jamboree with what I keep around! Craziness!

I got somewhere to be someday... as soon as I get done packing and moving!
Better get back to work!
I socialized with Hannah a bit AND went Contra dancing tonight.. I am a foolhardy person to have so much fun when there is so much work in front of me!

Ive been painting my new place and packing up my old place, its the season of change. My housemate is very much into making sure I know Im welcome and showing me my responsibilities. I love artists. She talks a mile a minute, loudly with grand gesticulations.. just to tell me that she recycles and expects me to, too.

Last night I had a sudden epiphany. I realized.. I was home.. ALONE. The last time I was home alone in this house it was snowing and Bryan went to the store while Jeff was at work and Ris was running errands.. it lasted 48 minutes and was awesome. So, being alone in the house for 8 hours was a notable occasion!
So, I celebrated by going to bed.
What a boring imagination I have!
I could have used that time to loudly practice an instrument Im bad at or dance around singing Belinda Carlise songs for no reason! I could have perfected my Tarzan Yell or dog barking sound effects! I could have learned to clog dance! I could have rattled my windows with Aesop Rock deep down bass or run around putting my butt on EVERYTHING! But.. I didn't. I talked on the phone quietly.. I went to bed.
When did I get old?

I hate moving my books... but I do love touching each and every book in my collection.. twice. Thats pretty rewarding.
10 crates so far. Also a crate for giveaway and a crate for selling.
I only emptied 6 shelves out of 17.
Most things are finding their ways into boxes.
The minutae.
Right now Im looking at an electric sweater razor, an empty glasses case, 6 tea lights, a spool of christmas ribbon, a blonde wig and the copy of my temporary ID.
The minutae.

Speaking of minutae, I have piles of journals.
Stacks of memo, steno and note books.
Many of them are full, some of them still have blank pages.
Very rarely is anything dated.
I pick up whatever paper is around when I want to write. I scribble on scraps all the time. I pick up any book with some pages free and go to town... plus these books were used as notes in class, notes for work, letters to the editor, drafted responses, what have you... jumbled with diary entries, observations, poetry, venting or epiphanies.
Im cresting 3500 entries here... (5 more to go!) you'd think I wouldn't have 12 pounds of spiral notebooks full of pen-leavings to go with it! How in the hell does that even happen?!

Saying 'goodbye' to this place is hard...

I was feeling thoughtful...
I was going to write meaningful things...

Just as I sat down my phone calls me with responsibilities to be filled.

Boo.

Im cold, sitting in bed trying to avoid looking at the clock because I have to do a half-shift today and "I dunna wanna!"... but hey, money is money.
Im also sitting in bed trying to avoid looking at the pile of boxes Im supposed to be filling with the shelves and shelves of books I am avoiding looking at.

3 boxes of movies. Check.
4 boxes of wall decorations. Check.
1 box of soundmakers/musical instruments. Check.
2 boxes of office supplies/desk equipment. Check.
1 box of tools/hardware. Check.
2 boxes of toys and party supplies. Check.
2 boxes of kitchen equipment/cutlery. Check.
2 boxes of bedding. Check.
How do I already have 17 boxes of STUFF and I havent even packed my crafting, sewing or books? THATS THE STUFF I ACTUALLY COLLECT!

Wow, stuff is INSIDIOUS.
Its.. everywhere.

They are mostly SMALL boxes... which I write big just to point out how SMALL they are.
But they are still boxes. Of stuff. Stuff that I can pack away and tra-la-la and pretend it doesnt exist for awhile until I 'need' it.

I can lookforward to 15-20 boxes of books.
A trunk, a chest and a foot locker of fabric.
80 million sewing machines... ok ok.. only like 10. Buuut...still.

Im planning to cut half of my sewing machines out of my collection...
I need my serger... my new Singer and my grandma's Singer.. the Brother a friend is having me 'hold' but which I sometimes use... and I think Im going to keep one other machine... "just in case".... and so I can learn ancient machine repair.

My camping stuff. My accessories. My clothes. My kitchen appliances. My bathroom craps.
ALL THIS STUFF still needs to be in boxes.
I hate moving.
Im trading in 3 roommates, 3 parrots, a 3 story house and a 30 minute walk away from everything I do... for 1 roomate, 1 dog, 2 chickens, another 3 story house and a 15 minute drive from everything I do... it COULD be worse.
Im not supposed to walk around at night in the neighborhood Im going to.
Last week the little grocery mart 2 blocks away from my new place was bombed.
Yes.. it was BOMBED with EXPLOSIVES.
Huh.

Apparently we are living in a material world and I am a material girl... who will live in a place where it is ok to beat a 14 yr old half-dead and leave them on a strangers stoop... and for the cops NOT to come out for this incident. But, the good news is I will have a violet bedroom and blue sewing/living room... which is something for my eyes to look forward to.

Crap.. Im supposed to be at work all-too-soon.... better put on pants.