nawtawba's Xanga

boys, drugs, cars, and snot.

Fri, 07 Sep 2007 00:23:10 GMT

This past weekend was delightful, mostly, as I spent time with the majority of my family, visited the Air Force Academy, developed a most attractive sunburned nose, and felt old for the first time in my life. The brothers are growing up remarkably fast, and have turned into dashingly handsome men. Sam was missed.

~~~~~

Unfortunately, I left the weekend with a gift from my Mother and youngest brother - a horrific headcold. I managed to hold it off 'til Wednesday, when I felt the sore throat creeping up on me. Today I managed to dope myself up enough to put in a full workday, but felt like my sinuses might explode all over the office. Lovely. When I finally stumbled home to sleep and lay about the apartment trying to forget I was alive, I realized I only had about three-fourths of a dose of Nyquil. Now Nyquil... is my friend. It has helped me through several colds, and I'll admit, when I've had those nights when I just cannot, will not, go to sleep, I've drugged myself into oblivion. We can discuss intervention later.

At first, I decided I was much too miserable to brave the sidewalks and acquire more of the delicious drug... but then I began thinking about the prospect of lying in bed, sleepless, unable to breathe, until I just suffocated myself with my own pillow. So I headed out.

In the process of walking to the store, I witnessed a car collision... my SECOND witness of such today. Yes, second. The first was on my way to work... as I was about to cross the street someone slammed, loudly, into the back of the SUV in front of them. Not a great way to start the day. I admit to completely thinking, "I am So. Glad. that wasn't me... either of those vehicles." This second one I believe was a bit more serious, as there was an ambulance, firetruck, and multiple police vehicles when I returned later. I begin to think perhaps I should stick to walking... surely two automobile accidents in one day cannot be a good omen.

But the drugs... yes, after lugging the two gallons of Nyquil home with me, I should be able to sleep through the night without dying. Maybe. And now I must go... off to sneeze more ick into a kleenex.

do the shuffle, baby.

Fri, 15 Jun 2007 15:56:44 GMT

Is it terribly sad that I had a rush of complete happiness when my iPod shuffled Aerosmith's Dream On and Bon Jovi's Livin' on a Prayer back to back as I stepped along to the metro this morning?

poetry and the pace of life.

Mon, 11 Jun 2007 21:52:57 GMT

Within the last week or so, a particular friend of mine introduced me to a poet of whom I'd not previously heard. Granted, my knowledge of the poets is considerably deficient, and when conversing with a poetry aficionado, I fear my contributions limit themselves to the knowledgeable nod and occasional neutral comment on their statements. Unfortunately, one direct question regarding an author of which I have not heard, and my bluffing is immediately cast into a depth where it falters and drowns in a sea of apologetic admissions of unenlightenment. Therefore, my ignorance of Billy Collins (U.S. Poet Laureate from 2001-2003) was not particularly surprising.

After reading the selections emailed to me, I was intrigued and investigated the nearby bookstore. In an out-of-character act, I purchased one of the compilations of Billy Collins' work and meandered back to the office, feeling dreamy and intellectual. Ahem. Over the next several days, I spent some time over my lunch hours perusing the book.

When my friend first inquired to my like/dislike of poetry, I expressed enjoyment but also my inability to read and enjoy more than one individual poem at a time. As I looked through the newly purchased volume, I began to wonder why. So shocking, that I would find yet another way to be introspective.... Regardless, I began to realize that I typically read the way I acted in life: quickly. Hm. As I considered, I realized it was true. I tend to do all things fast; perhaps because I am motivated by accomplishment, perhaps because I'm more high-strung than I'd thought, perhaps partly engineered and encouraged by my current geographical location. Who knows. I've read as fast as possible from childhood; it was how I began reading and has persisted into my adult years. (HA! I feel like I can say that now. "Adult years." *dances jig*)

When I read, I read fast, and gather the information needed for comprehension as quickly as possible so I am able to continue onward. Poetry forces me to slow down. I must stop. I must allow the words to rise up around me, to cover me as opposed to racing along above them, perhaps stopping here and there for an occasional dip into a brilliant sentence or descriptive paragraph, but mostly moving rapidly along my way to comprehend the necessary as immediately as I am able. The reading of poetry cannot be done thus. So now I sit, read, reread, look up and pause as I think and observe humankind milling about my stationary position, and then return to reread again before moving to the next line. It's rather beautiful, and life ceases its rush for a moment, perhaps two, while I absorb the joy of aliveness.

As for Billy Collins himself, I think part of my appreciation comes from the fact that he seems to find joy and fascination in the little things. Details, things assumed or taken for granted, and merely in elements of life that are rarely thought to carry anything of interest. For example, his Tuesday, June 4, 1991, or To a Stranger Born in Some Distant Country Hundreds of Years from Now:

Nobody here likes a wet dog.
No one wants anything to do with a dog
that is wet from being out in the rain
or retrieving a stick from a lake.
Look how she wanders around the crowded pub tonight
going from one person to another
hoping for a pat on the head, a rub behind the ears,
something that could be given with one hand
without even wrinkling the conversation.

But everyone pushes her away,
some with a knee, others with the sole of a boot.
Even the children, who don’t realize she is wet
until they go to pet her,
push her away,
then wipe their hands on their clothes.
And whenever she heads toward me,
I show her my palm, and she turns aside.

O stranger of the future!
O inconceivable being!
whatever the shape of your house,
however you scoot from place to place,
no matter how strange and colorless the clothes you
may wear,
I bet nobody there likes a wet dog either.
I bet everybody in your pub,
even the children, pushes her away.

His way of personifying certain things also appeals to me, probably because I have a great tendency to write likewise.

Excerpt from Piano Lessons:

I am learning to play

“It Might As Well Be Spring”

but my left hand would rather be jingling

the change in the darkness of my pocket

or taking a rest on an armrest.

I have to drag him into the music

like a difficult and neglected child.

This is the revenge of the one who never gets

to hold the pen or wave good-bye,

and now, who never gets to play the melody.

Poetry is not the only current element in my life assisting to slow me down and build more recognition and enjoyment of life's fascinating bits, and surely I will always feel the push towards speed and accomplishment, but I can no longer claim to only appreciate the work of poets in single doses. Here's to occasionally allowing oneself to fall face first into a work of written art and wander without deadlines.

right now i'd like to give the world a hug.

Sat, 14 Apr 2007 17:32:17 GMT

I think I might've gotten back to being "myself." Life will always have its less-than-perfect moments, but overall, I'm happy.

My morning was pretty much a half day of what I used to call "loner days." It was beautiful and really unbelievably fantastic. Happiness is strolling along in almost 60 degree weather, feeling good, having smooth coffee that ain't S'bucks, music singing to your ears, performing subtle little acts of kindness, people watching, and receiving a deliciously unrestrained smile from a complete stranger.

life is good.

little (and big) things that = happiness

Fri, 16 Feb 2007 20:11:21 GMT

- So call me a girl, but I just received a stunning pair of shoes, intended to be worn in my lovely twin~*'s wedding next month, and I am thrilled with their perfection. Their beautiful wine-coloured (spelling in honour of marks. ) satin smoothly flows along the scalloped sides down to each delicately jeweled toe, ending with with a gold and burgundy flourish. Also, me looks verra gooood in 'em. *crooked grin*

- I went out with a friend this past Saturday night, and during the course of the evening, she described my dancing style as being quite "Gumby-like." I suppose that's not completely complimentary, but it completely cracked me up... and is far more accurate than I shall admit.

- I was sick over the 14th, and virtually without effort, managed to abstain from coffee for a full two days. Therefore, when I had my first cup today, it hit me as if I were a virgin coffee consumer, and I received the full drug-induced happiness effect [!!!].

- Today is also the beginning of a three-day weekend for me, during which I will be able to spend time with a friend who is coming into town for several days. I haven't seen her in almost a year, and I'm rather excited, if I do say so, that I'm able to meet her plane tonight.

- Also, another friend of mine found out recently that he got into U of Chicago's PhD program. Definitely thrilling enough on its own, but today he was informed that he got a fellowship, meaning he has full tuition paid and gads of money in which to roll about while he performs his scholarly duties! I mentally marched around my office singing loudly and throwing streamers and pennies in the air for him. So awesome!

- And finally, my Mum called me today (and then Doon himself) to inform me that my brother got his appointment to the US Air Force Academy. *squeal* *more squeals!* I am so ecstatic I could dance in the streets with my Gumby-like grace! Such a totally, WONDERFULLY excellent day. I beg you to pardon me if I can't seem to stop wiggling with happiness.

all the little bunnies.

Mon, 05 Feb 2007 21:37:32 GMT

Some bunny bedtime stories have danger but manage to have a happy ending - Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cottontail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper, and even Peter made do with some chamomile tea.

Then again, there are the sad fates of the several dozen rabbits now hanging inside my closet door. Perhaps against my better judgement, over the weekend I managed to acquire a lovely, stripey, vintage rabbit fur coat. I originally pulled it off the rack to see how fur looked up against my ears and neck, but then a gasp interrupted me as someone... who shall remain nameless, told me I absolutely had to purchase the coat.

Personally, I've never imagined myself stalking, gliding, or even stumbling along with the skins of a dozen furry creatures wrapped tightly about my body. However, when I investigated my appearance in the garment, I had to attest to its allure. Ultimately, I did my weak attempt at negotiation - I'm determined to improve - and paid my monies to the register. There must be some addictive substance within those little hairs, because I felt the almost irresistible urge to once again shove my arms into the lovely wide sleeves and smile and nod my way along the sidewalk to our next destination.

I do love rabbits, though typically I prefer they remain wild and do not relieve themselves in my personal space. However, I have come to the belief that it is my duty to bring honor and life back to what is left of those many hapless little cousins of Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, and Peter. I shall wear them with pride, and do my best to avoid all individuals who might be holding suspicious red containers and wearing shirts that spell PETA.

dr. pepper country and cryptic driving

Thu, 01 Feb 2007 05:43:36 GMT

It was when they asked me what I wanted to drink on the plane that it sank in that I was headed back to Texas. I originally asked for Diet Coke, knowing I'd need caffeine to make it through the flight alive, but then remembered... I was headed to Texas, on an American Airlines flight... and they'd better have my Dr. Pepper. Yeah baby.

I admit, I'm enjoying this perk of my new job. Right now, I'm not unhappy, although, as I pointed out to a friend - I'm also not in DC right now. heh. So far the trip is excellent, although I feel like surely I've been here longer than just a day. Utter exhaustion caused me to completely pass out earlier this evening as I waited for Brack and Julie to call.

However, even with the constant activity, I'm thoroughly enjoying this trip. I feel like I've been on top of my game the entire time, even when I didn't really know what the game was. Some of the highlights so far include several of the drivers used to transport me from hotel to hotel. Two in particular were fascinating individuals, and I would have genuinely loved to sit down with them and ask more questions for a couple hours. The first was a retired Marine who had started his military career in Vietnam. He was medical personnel, not an MD, but trained to take care of minor surgeries, etc. Part of his time in the Marines included a stint at the South Pole, down there as the medical team member among scientists and other researchers. He told me the story of one of the women on the team (the only woman, if my Googled information is correct) who had gone to one of the islands one day and fallen while climbing an ice wall/cliff. I believe she lost her grip, slid, and then fell straight down about 60 feet, breaking her back in the process. Mike, my driver, radioed her to warn about some bad weather started in, and when he didn't get a response he headed out to look for her. When he found her, she was bleeding from the fall and had attracted several grey seals who smelled the blood. Before he could even help the teammate, he had to kill one of the seals so the others could eat it, and then build up a little shelter of rocks around the area where she had fallen. He ascertained her condition, went back to the boat and took the bottom out, strapped her to the flat board-like bottom of the boat, and then pulled/carried her out. When he got back to the station, he used the sparse equipment and resources they had to put her in traction and then in a body cast from her knees up. Ultimately he put her in four different body casts before she was able to be Medevac-ed out and back to the States, where she ultimately made a full recovery. I was spellbound, and he missed his exit. *grin*

My other drivers included a fellow who immigrated over from Communist Russia in 1979, and a retired Clinical Psychologist. Absolutely fascinating.

I would be amiss in neglecting to mention my evening with Brack and Julie. So good to see them both, to laugh with them both, overstuff myself on Tex-Mex with them both, and to make fun of Brack for driving "cryptically."

End Day One.

PS - my internet abilities were severely limited when I tried to write this, and my keyboard frequently caused unintentional typos. I'll fix them when I have better access.

Post- Postscript - Better now.

incongruity.

Thu, 11 Jan 2007 02:04:10 GMT

I am so proud of myself. Tonight I came home and went grocery shopping. Now... it would serve me well to not go shopping when I'm hungry. I seem to have learned how to control my urge for junk food. That's a plus. However, I tend to buy too much fresh fruit/vegetables, and with the size family I used to cook for, basically too much of everything, mistakenly thinking I'll use it before it spoils. *sigh* Tonight I surprised and thrilled myself by making a complete meal for me... and only me. Lovely roasted asparagus, lemon Dijon chicken, a bit of lightly toasted bread, some yummy white wine, and fresh strawberries with honey-sweetened yogurt for my dessert. *beams with pride* I almost seem civilized, no? heh. Oh.... but then, sometimes I drink orange juice from a wine glass.

Friday, January 05, 2007

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 02:34:23 GMT

Lending to the rumor of my insanity, when I looked into my drawer the other morning and gazed upon my freshly washed pile of bright, colorful clothing items, I involuntarily clasped my hands, giddily hopped about, and sighed with happiness and delight.

Also, I've decided that if I'm still in DC for Christmas time next year, I'm going to pull a streetperson move and take my violin to a downtown Metro entrance/exit and hope people throw money at me as I play happy Christmas carols. Yay free money!

And... I need a car. Not only for transportation purposes, though that is the primary reason, but also so that I have at least a little "my space." I hated this very same thing when I first moved to DC and had a roommate. I had nowhere to go to be truly alone. I couldn't go where others wouldn't approach me, I couldn't go where I might talk to myself and hash things out aloud, I couldn't sing to music... and then when said music occasionally brought tears to my eyes, I couldn't cry in peace. *sigh* A vehicle is next on my list, so if I seem to be a tightwad for the next few months....

Finally, I need a calendar. Calendars are one of the simple pleasures in my life. I used to race about the house on the first day of every new month, turning to the new page. Alas, I have not a calendar for 2007, and am still sadly staring at the December page of ye olde 2006's calendar.

to work, to work...

Wed, 03 Jan 2007 19:02:01 GMT

I had a day short of two weeks off of work over the holidays, and it was with great sadness that I again entered my office this morning...

Soon enough, I had a coworker drop in to tell me about how he'd almost come in to work yesterday, but his (infamous) kidney stones were acting up, so he just wasn't able to, but since the day was so lovely, after he'd popped a pain pill or two, he decided to go play a couple rounds of golf... in his mock turtleneck - like the one he is wearing today - and a vest.

Also, one of our administrative staff decided that the blinds on her windows weren't keeping out the light enough, thus now, if you look up at our office from the street, you will notice that there are manila folders taped all across one of the fourth floor windows. Yes.

Welcome back to work!