So I was talking to Kamotion while she waited in the airport to leave and she had said she’d finally seen my blog because she was looking at Somebody else’s blog… so I had to go see my link there, when I got home… and subsequently was given all SORTS of URLs for bloggy toys by the man hisownself while there…
And since that hour I’ve been futzing around with this.
And I STILL haven’t changed the commenting utility…
That is all.
“I’ll be in the bathroom. Get started on your homework.”
“Ok.”
…..
“Mom?” “Mom!” “Maaaaaahm…” “MOMMY!”
“WHAT?! I’m in the BATHroom! JAYZUS!”
“Mom? I…”
“You what? Is the house burning down?”
“No, I…”
“Is there a burglar in the apartment?”
“No, I jus…”
“Because if there is not an emergency of equivalent importance to those two things, I am NOT to be disturbed. Anything else can wait until I am not in the bathroom. Yes?”
“Ok, but all I wanted…”
“It can wait. Can it wait?”
“Yes.”
“Ok.”
“I’m just going to tell…”
“It’s waiting. Isn’t it waiting?”
” …… Ok.”
“Ok.”
“But I…”
“WAITING!”
…..
“I…”
“Homework. You. Living room. Waaaaiting.”
——————————————–
What IS it with children?
I’m hungry.
That’s not from the weekend. I just am.
Hungry.
No, the weekend was eventful. It was long, and short. Short, because weekends are never long enough, especially when one is surrounded by fun people doing interesting things. It was long because it was physically demanding (who’d have thought standing and holding two bouquets during a wedding ceremony would leave me with sore forearms?), and emotionally draining (not in the bad way, but really… HOW many times can a woman go teary-eyed in a three day span? If I’d counted I’d be able to tell you.)
We did it. We got her married off and on her way, with surprisingly few roadblocks on the journey. We did our jobs. She chose the right people to be her support system throughout the experience, and I can’t believe how gratified I felt when I heard her say, “Everything, the day before and today, has either met or really exceeded my expectations.”
All brides should get to feel that way. I’m so glad my dear friend was able to.
She placed SO much importance on the significance of this event in her life… and let me tell you… girlfriend has some seriously high standards. That they have been met is truly a gift from God. (With a little help from the hard work put in by numerous friends and family.)
Marginally related topic:
I am surrounded by beautiful women.
Seriously. All my life I have been blessed to be surrounded by beautiful women.
My standard for a beautiful woman is thus: She must be intelligent. She must be creative in some way. She must be personable. She must have a care for her appearance. She must have sensitivity and compassion, with the ability to express love and understanding to those around her.
My grandmother was the best example of these qualities that make up ‘beauty’ in my eyes. She is the standard to which I will always hold every other woman I meet. I’m fortunate to have had her for as long as I did.
The COOLness is, though, that so many other women have passed through my life that exhibit all those same qualities.
It’s not that I think I attract these people, but I’m very good at recognizing them. And, you know… when I can I attach myself to them.
Sometimes I’m just astounded at how cool my chick friends are. I mean, if I wasn’t hardwired hetero, I’d probably be confused trying to choose which one to seduce.
Even cooler, I keep meeting MORE of them. Birds of a feather and all that. So my pool of potential lesbian crushes just keeps expanding.
Sucks that SOME people (who shall remain nameless) had to go and marry some dude who got, like, some REAL job or something and whisked her away to the other side of the country.
And now my OTHER heterosexual female life partner has gone and got married.
Right when I’m trying to figure out what to do with all this time I’ll have not dealing with the demands of a man.
Sighing is.
Of course… I COULD spend it doing my homework.
Nah.
I need to put away these Mint Newman-Os, though. I can’t afford to buy new clothes for expanding me.
Today’s iced tea bottlecap quote isn’t very interesting.
“Success without honor is an unseasoned dish; it will satisfy your hunger, but it won’t taste good.” – Joe Paterno
So? Since when do things have to taste good, if they serve their purpose? Getting what I WANT is what tastes good. (Uhoh, did I just reveal a character flaw?)
Time for thought redirection to avoid the uncomfortable introspective self-examination thingy deal.
LOOKY LOOKY! Pretty sparkly things!
As Oscar Wilde supposedly said, “I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best.”
Now I just have to figure out how to make the most money with the least possible effort. (Besides doing bad internet porn for HNGs.)
To maintain five separate blogs? (Alright, six, if you count the completely unused and never updated one on the blinky, noisy, visually assaulting hell of Myspace…)
Sometimes they’re updated simultaneously, with the exact same post. Sometimes things are posted on one that aren’t posted on others. One of them NEVER has the same posts as the rest, and it is also rarely updated at all, yet still maintained somewhat.
Is this a sign of a troubled individual? A blog for each personality? An individual too compartmentalized to just let it all hang out? A blog for each layer of the onion?
hmmmm
hm hm hm.
It is to ponder.
So said Gandhi.
The podling feels that finding this quote in the cap of my iced tea is quite humorous. She says it applies to me so very well.
I replied that there is, perhaps, more to life than increasing its speed, but oftentimes it is rather invigorating to see just how fast one can go, an enhancement of quality of life in itself.
Because it’s just fun.
So there.
and have posted nothing.
Why is that, do you think?
mmm… It most likely has much to do with how lazy I truly am.
But now I’m blogging.
Tonight, I get to see one of my L’s. And she’ll come to stay with me tonight! Yaaay! Slumber party! Yaaay!
Alright, probably not. We’ll likely be tired and pass out after spending the evening at Rogue Revisted down at da FCB.
Then again… last time she was here we kept staying up WAY past my bedtime just yammering. Hmmm…
So then tomorrow I finish packing and gathering, pick up the podling after school, and it’s head for the hills for one of my OTHER L’s wedding rehearsal and dinner. And Saturday, young podling and I, with L1 and her female offspring, will all participate in L2’s wedding and reception.
And there will be food, and cake, and bellydancing… oooooo.
So there it is. My first post in this bloggity. Not impressive.
Still… it’s a beginning. Of sorts.
Links to kinda sorta explain the reference I made in an earlier blog. In a nutshell, a zar ritual is a rhythm/dance ritual performed as a therapeutic practice for someone who is troubled. That’s a bit of a simplistic explanation. There are subtleties, and if you really want to understand, check out these links.
But… I probably wouldn’t have paid attention. Still… I suppose someone could have tried, not least the object of addiction.
I may bear the responsibility for the behavior, but I know who bears responsibility for orchestrating the circumstances leading up to it. It was deliberately done.
Chapter 4 is quite interesting.
I mean, I felt it… SAW it over two years ago.
Then promptly closed my eyes and dived right in. I guess I can do nothing but realize that I deserve the absolute pain and humiliation I’m feeling.
But it still hurts.
I know I have value. Why do keep finding people who are so wonderful, but just don’t see it?
It could be so good. It IS so good. Or was. I’m still swimming in Da Nile. It ain’t just a river in Egypt.
Oh well. Time for that aspect of me to shrivel and die, because it isn’t going to get any more fulfilling than that was. No question there.
I guess I’ll have to figure out how to redirect all the energy that’s been going that direction.
I’m in desperate need of a Zar, methinks. I may just have to plan one.
In the mean time, you know that fine line between love and hate? I’m tightrope walking at the moment. I think I’d like to keep my balance, because if I fall on that negative side… Well, nothing good can come of that. And the other side is just too painful to try to swim through.
There has to be a platform up ahead, somewhere at the end of this rope. I’ll make it. Once the intermittent bouts of sobbing stop creeping up and assaulting me from behind.
I’d do the introspection/self-examination thing, but I don’t think it would be fruitful. Not yet. I haven’t managed to wade out of that Egyptian river yet.
I’m lovable. I AM. I’m worthwhile.
Eventually I’ll believe it again. And my eyes will be dry.
miscellanea
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