This quick tutorial is based on the example of the Podling, who, despite how it is presented to him, will invariably approach it in the following manner.

1. Accept sandwich with a polite "thank you." Staying on good terms with the food-givers will get you more sandwiches in the future, or at the very least implied permission to consume others' food as well as your own.

2. Ascertain that it is, in fact, peanut butter and some sort of fruity jam, then pull the pieces apart and lay them gooey-side-up on an appropriate surface. Choose something near to your height, as you will be bending frequently and a strained back will interfere with your next sandwich.

3. Verify its contents by dragging one or more fingers through the goo and tasting it. Do not lick all the remains off your fingers; this is what your pajamas are for. Use them. If you have accidentally dropped one or both pieces the wrong way down, correct them and sample what's on the table with all your fingers at once. This will be useful later on.

4. Eat the peanut butter and jam before the bread. This is very important. If you manage to eat the contents out first, you might get your food-giver to put more on the existing bread. Also, it tastes better. Place both hands on the table and bend until you are comfortable. You will be spending a lot of time in this position. Alternatively, pick up the bread and smash the peanut butter side into your mouth, scraping it off with your teeth. It isn't as proper, but in a pinch will work.

5. Decorate the table with what is left. Everyone appreciates art. Be daring. This is your only chance to express yourself in peanut butter. Your food-giver will find it adorable and give you a treat. Probably.

6. Be ready to run. Eventually your food-giver will realize that your pajamas, face and hands are beautiful, and try to ruin it with a wet cloth. Run like hell. The wet cloth steals pieces of your soul every second it is on your face.

7. Ask for another sandwich. Obviously.

- You're all following the reviews for Laurenn J. Framingham’s Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter: The Laughing Corpse: Book 2: Necromancer over at Chris's Invincible Super-Blog, right? If you're not, and you've been mocking Twatlight and LKH and all its facepalming inspiration, you really need to check this out. Link is to the latest annotated review.

- Bakerella does a lot of cute, labor- and time-intensive novelty desserts on a regular basis. Cake pops dipped in candy and decorated with individual sprinkles to look like sheep, or chicks, or apples, or cupcakes. Fruit pies on a stick. Cupcakes that look like hamburgers paired with sugar cookie french fries. Ridiculous. Adorable. Waaaaaay more time and effort than I want to put into something so full of sugar that one taste will drop me like a rock, especially when none of my friends have enough of a sweet tooth to help me eat them.

And then, there is this. Pumpkin pie bites. INORITE? Could they be any more adorable? Any more delicious? Any more the epitome of all that is good and right with autumn? Oh, oh, oh, and then she goes and pipes wee jack o'lantern faces on them with chocolate? More than this mere mortal can bear. I want to make them sooooooo badly that I cannot even put it into words. Okay, okay, they're not vegan. They're...uh...not even close to vegan. BUT, I have evaporated milk and canned pumpkin already on hand. Seriously, real-life friends of mine, can we have another occasion to celebrate so I can make these and bring them? Please? PLEEEEEAAASE?


- It is delightfully windy, sunny and chilly this morning. We've been outside twice already, and the Podling is clamoring to go back outside again. He says 'outside' like this: "zah-sigh!" It's cute. We're working on words, but he is only really interested in 'outside,' 'thank you,' 'bye-bye', and 'night-night.' Although, on Saturday he said something that sounded a lot like 'pancake.' ....we WERE having pancakes.

I had no idea I would be going to the Wool Gathering in Yellow Springs, Ohio. I assumed I was just out of luck for several reasons; firstly the lack of money, secondly that I had no one to go with, and thirdly that we had a full weekend. Happily, that changed quite unexpectedly on Saturday.

Saturday was the wedding of some good people, friends of Nyte's that I'm not as familiar with as I'd like, and though we couldn't stay very long we had a good time. Both Meg and Brian looked lovely and happy, and it was a very small wedding. It started at a little Episcopalian church with very pretty wood pews and floors, which happen to thunder loudly when large, toddler-proof dice hit them. (Ask me how I know. Do not ask why I thought it would be disrespectful to bring in small Yo Gabba Gabba plushies, but gambling paraphernalia was ok.) (Also, who knew there were two R's in paraphernalia?) The Podling managed to be pretty good, although he made happy kid noises during the ceremony, but at least he didn't throw a fit. He found a pencil and registration card and eventually went to town on that during all the rising, praying, vowing, sitting, rising, praying, sitting, and praying. The Podling entertained many and ate lots of hors d'ouevres of the raw veggie variety during the pictures while the rest of us milled about and mingled awkwardly with some Sprite and oj punch in highball glasses.

During dinner, he amused the rest of the table by repeating things in baby-talk, feeding us with his fork, and trying to steal our dinner rolls despite the fact that he had not yet finished his own. Our attempts to distract him with Lego cars, Hot Wheels, rubber fire engines, and plushies was unsuccessful; he needed to run free. When the music came on he danced, and so did a number of other people. Many of the younger folks there were talented in improv, and more than one dance-fight broke out, West-Side-Story-style, from the snap-stepping to the sliding across the dance floor on one's knees. It was very entertaining, but it freaked the norms a bit and meant the dance floor then went empty for a while. Once they cut the cake, the Podling circled the cake table like a shark, a crafty smile of Grinchian proportions on his face. Once he had cake in his sights, he could not be dissuaded by any means. I suspect he got that from me...

That evening, I got a follow-up call from one of Nyte's friends, M (clever pseudonym to come at some later date), who wanted to know if I wanted to go to the Wool Gathering. We made plans to meet up on Sunday, which happened to be the day Nyte was gallivanting down to Cincy to meet up with an old friend and talk PHP and all manner of geekery.

Sunday dawned gray and damp, and far too early. I managed to roll out of bed and de-gunk the mascara from my eyes, but slept so poorly last night that I was only able to get downstairs, not actually make it into the kitchen and heat up water for coffee. Nyte found me in my vegetative state on the couch and promptly rectified the situation, bless him, then took off to Cincy. M picked up myself and the wee one at noon and we headed off to Yellow Springs.

M and I don't hang out together, but not because we don't want to. We share a lot of interests, but did not know until fairly recently that we both knit. She works second-shift and I have a toddler, so weekends are really the only available time to hang out, and we all know how quickly those fill up. We had a grand old time at the Wool Gathering, which was held at Young's Jersey Dairy Farm. (What a time to be vegan.) The Podling ran around on the monkey-leash, trying to run free, or sat in the stroller trying to run free. We saw and petted many goats, sheep, bunnies, some calves, and an alpaca, and learned that everyone does, in fact, poo. (This was not demonstrated by the people there, but I figure we ourselves are proof enough of that.) I saw many, many, many things I liked, many wheels that I wanted but could not possibly afford, and even many spindles that I couldn't afford.

I ended up buying eleven ounces of some gorgeous heathered gray (natural, not dyed) alpaca roving and a Babe spindle, since it was a dowel rod, a hook and some plastic disks. I just needed it to be a good bit lighter than the hefty (but pretty) wooden one I have, and more functional than the cracked cd one I was given by my great-aunt. The ones I really wanted (for both aesthetics and weight) were made of fancy schmancy woods that made them cost more than my entire budget for the day, so those were out. I suspect that a Babe Production or Pinkie may turn out to be my first spinning wheel, but today is not that day. (They have electric ones too, did you know? For someone with occasional arthritis flare-ups, this is a lovely idea for a second wheel.)

M bought quite a few things as well, including a nice angora sampler and some other things that I feel sure are for other people for the holidays. She and the Podling got along just dandy, too, which is always a plus. I had a good time, I think M had a good time, and the Podling trooped along like he normally does. I'm hoping he'll sleep hard tonight, and sleep in tomorrow.

I also had a chance to discuss something interesting with someone, and perhaps something interesting will come of it. I'm not sure yet, but if and when anything comes of it, I'll be sure to let you folks know. I'm hopeful that it will be interesting to more than just one or two of you.

(On a lighter note)

I've been learning drums on Rock Band the last couple of days. Normally drums are the Podling's preferred instrument, but drummers are always the shortage when we're playing at friends' houses, and anyway I like to know how to do everything. Always. It's cool though; I set up the drums and whack the heck out of them, and the Podling french-kisses the unplugged microphone and tries to sneak my laptop off somewhere I can't see him and bang on the keyboard. We don't have any downloaded material (and it's Rock Band 1), but I'm halfway through medium and am starting to really get the hang of this, as well as starting to be really challenged. One day I will drum some crazy-ass The Who or Metallica and boys will swoon at my feet. (Because that is totally the key to a geekboy's heart.) (???)

Now I am drumming on things with my hands. To everyone in Caribou Coffee, at the grocery store, my family and friends...I'm so sorry.

I've been pretty quiet over here, for a long time. While I enjoyed sharing the Lovecraft, it was just a stalling tactic, and it didn't really sit well with me. Despite my efforts to make it clear that the story I was posting was not, in fact, at all mine in any way, shape or form, I still felt like I was stealing it from Lovecraft. I would feel the same way about Shakespeare, or Austen, or any other words that weren't composed by me. Maybe I'm being hypersensitive, but this is my blog and it's my prerogative to be hypersensitive about things pertaining to copyright, the written word, and other authors. It feels like bad form to reproduce works that aren't mine, even if the authors in question have shuffled off this mortal coil years and years ago. Perhaps the angst is of my own devising. Maybe I am so full of longing to have my own name in print, to have something enviable of my own blood, sweat and tears, that I'm projecting anguish onto the authors in question, were they still living. Point is, it doesn't sit well with me, so I'm choosing to stop. I can't move forward if I'm doing something I don't agree with, so...first step.

Much of the reason I've been quiet is simply because I can't stop bitching. Whenever someone asks me how I am, I either have to respond with the obligatory "fine" or "things are rough." Of course they're fucking rough; everybody is going through one thing or another, be it financial, familial, life planning, etc....if life was ever quiet and happy, most of us would be bored to tears. I think I've discovered that I'm one of those people. Maybe it's the Gemini in me, always of two minds about everything (annoying even to myself, let me assure you), or maybe I was just born inherently contrary, but when things are bad I wallow in it, and when things are good, I wallow in myself.

Those of you who do not have that artistic spirit (mental problems?) may have a hard time understanding what I'm talking about, but it seems to go deeper than a general malaise brought on by a lack of animal proteins or shopping at the dollar store. I know I've spoken of the feeling that I'm destined for something enormous and important, and if that isn't a big ol' slice of ego pie then I don't know what is. Maybe that sense is what urges me to write things down. Maybe it's what keeps me imagining stories of seemingly insurmountable odds. Maybe it's what allows me to briefly appreciate the things I have, like the simple pleasures of a clean, sleepy baby in my arms and a hot cup of coffee. I've struggled with it for years, I've lived in fear of its significance (and then its completely lack of significance), and now...now I don't know. I think I'd like to use it, now. I think I'd like to tame it just enough to tap into its power, without bringing it completely under my control and breaking it.

I'm getting abstract here, and I apologize. The new moon always seems to find me in a philosophical state of mind, and I'm so rusty at expressing myself that I'm having more difficulty than usual in organizing my thoughts into coherence.

I'd like to say that I've found the key to turning my life around, but that would be hyperbolic and patently untrue. I'd be nice, but untrue. I'm closer. I'm not there yet, and there will be setbacks, but I feel like I'm willing now to stop running as a knee-jerk reaction. It doesn't get you anything but exhausted, and if I keep mentally running from myself like this, I'm going to lose things I care about. Things I'm not willing to lose.

So. What does all this mean? More mindfulness, for one. Breaking habits, certainly, especially habits rooted in escaping the present because I'm so worried about the future. I'm bound and fucking determined to finish the first draft of this book, and then finish the one next in line. I don't care if it never sells. I don't care if it sits in a drawer for ten years and I never look at it again; I have to finish it. I have to prove to myself that I can finish a book, any book, and I'm not going to believe that I can until I actually do it. Until then, calling myself a writer or an author is going to sound hollow and pretentious, and I'll never escape the shame of just playing pretend when other people are out in the world doing the things they say they are.

That said, I'm still doing NaNo. I had a huge breakthrough the first year I managed to win, and the second year was a struggle (I've won two of either five or six attempts, I really can't remember), but I crossed the finish line early, and I recall wondering why the hell I didn't just do something a little less intense every day.

What brought this on? I'm starting to have anxiety attacks when I sit down to write. This is not acceptable. I can't afford for anxiety to get enough of a toehold back in my life to start significantly altering my behavior again, I just can't. I don't deserve it, and neither do Nyte and the Podling.

Maybe my life needs to be more difficult. Maybe it's too easy, and I'm skating by on a wing and a prayer because I can. I know there's a core of strength inside me, and it's fierce and scorching and a force to be reckoned with, but I guess my life has been too decent and good for me to need it. Maybe I never had a good enough reason before. Maybe I was coddled and cared for and never had to stand up for myself, so I never saw it except in brief flares of rage. Or maybe I just wasn't ready.

Project DBAD, or "Don't Be A Dick." Fantastic idea.
(from buhfly )

My landlords are an older couple. They like to do things the way they've always done them, they have their ideas about the way things work, in the world and in general, and are constantly remarking about how "things these days are so different" as if it's the beginning of the end. This is not necessarily an uncommon attitude for people who grew up in an insulated environment/community, and never bothered or desired to expand their frame of reference by meeting people from different backgrounds, ethnicities, or cultures. Maybe they never had the opportunity to travel, but Columbus is a pretty diverse city these days. It's difficult to go anywhere and not have the chance to interact and make friends with a lot of different people.

About two months ago, my neighbor bought a house and moved out. The other side of the duplex has been empty since then, despite both our and Monaneron's attempts to find friends or at least acquaintances to fill up the other side. When it looked like we were out of options, my landlords finally put up a "for rent" sign that they seem to have made out of marker and construction paper wrapped around an old frame for a political candidate yard sign. Very professional, you see. The construction paper is yellow, after all.

It's not that they haven't gotten calls. No, they've had quite a lot of inquiries. It seems, though, that my landlords have a specific type of tenant in mind. No more than two, either a hetero couple or two straight girls, non-smokers, quiet, no animals preferable, and above all, white. Everyone who doesn't fit that description, or who has an accent, or who is in a hurry to get a place to live, is told that the apartment has already been rented. It's ridiculous, but the landlords defend their blatant racism by saying that "them Mexicans, Indians and Orientals" will pack three or four families into the unit and their water bill, which is paid by the landlords, will skyrocket, and the house will be trashed. They don't want two men living there because "men don't clean and I don't want to have to spend two weeks cleaning up when they leave." Anyone in a hurry for an apartment is automatically suspect, because they assume they're getting evicted or skipping out on their current apartment. This would quickly be cleared up if my landlords would run a background check, but they don't want to "go to all that trouble." They want to get some references, call them, and have that be that, because that's the way they've always done it. They tell us about every caller, because they are trying to be considerate and make sure that we're comfortable with the new tenants, since we're sharing a wall and a yard and a porch.

And then, to top it all off, they complain about not having anyone in that unit. *facepalm*

Since they started turning people away (illegally, I might add), the list of bad things happening to them has just gotten longer and longer. So far, the lady has lost her job of 20 years and is practically un-hire-able because of her age, her inability to use the computer, and her attitude. Shortly after this, she had a bad fall, their well pump's motor burned out, the man had a "heart episode" that landed him in the hospital overnight, they had to give back the car they bought a week before her layoff, a miscommunication resulted in getting the gas turned off, they had to pay for our shower to be re-tiled to try to fix a leak, they'll have to pay to repair the wall over the kitchen sink, and now the breaker box downstairs really needs to be replaced.

I'm having trouble feeling sorry for them.

Today, the lady showed the unit to a biracial couple. Before she left, with the couple still standing outside talking to her sister-in-law who's visiting for the week, she came inside to ask me if I was okay with the possibility of a black man living next door. She kept apologizing that she was even considering it, even after I said I have no problem with anybody based on their skin color, and that the references were a far more important criteria to determine the sort of renter either one of them will be. She continued to apologize, saying that they really needed someone in the unit, and that some people in the neighborhood will object, and that they've never rented to A Black before. I admit, I may have lost my composure a little bit. I may have said that these (probably imaginary) complaining neighbors had better get with the times and learn to deal with it, and that it's none of their business if someone of color moves into the neighborhood, and if they want to stay in an all-white neighborhood I can recommend a very clanny neighborhood in Mooresville, Indiana. That's when she apologized again for having to bother me for the key, thanked me for unlocking the back screen door, and went on her way.

I just feel sick. Where is the line, legally speaking? What does someone do when they suspect someone's crossed it, but is not the offended party and they have no proof? Scolding them is not going to do any good, and I don't even want to entertain the idea that they could get mad at me and make our lives miserable, because I don't think that's the sort of people they are, but if I think about it too much I'll get freaked out and psych myself out and that's just not good.

Guh. Why do people have to suck?

I took advantage of an evening "off" to finish typing up The Dreams In The Witch-House. Now if the book wanders off again, I don't have to wait around to find it before y'all can finish the story. So, want me to do another one? Not necessarily Lovecraft; we could take a little break and do some Shakespeare instead. Have a suggestion? I'll consider anything that's public domain.

In the meantime, I'm chilling with the Ghost Hunters (GHI at the moment) and enjoying the relative quiet. Nyte took the Podling over to some friends' house, but I was feeling cranky and opted to stay home by myself and do some decompressing. And some housework (ok, a LOT of housework), it turns out, but better during alone time than with a whiny kiddo hanging on the baby gates loudly protesting the fact that I'm not in the same room with him (or perhaps, that he's not allowed in that room with me).

Laundry is going, dishes need to be finished up, and if I was really ambitious I'd bake some zucchini bread or cake, but not only does ironing take priority over baked goods, in all fairness, Nyte did just bake up some banana muffins before he left. I'm not doing all the ironing tonight, but I'll do two pairs of pants and perhaps shirts as well, to last him out the week. I haven't ironed a damned thing in well over a week or more, and while part of me feels a little guilty, the other part of me is wondering why he can't do it his own damn self. I'm starting to forget what it's like to work in a crazy-fast-paced office and hardly have a chance to catch your breath all day, and to then come home to more demands. It's hard to keep things in perspective, and I'm trying to not let myself assume that I've had the hard part of this bargain and wallow in self-pity, especially when I'm the one who has the option of napping during the day.

On the knitting front, I would LIKE to be starting up the Shipwreck Shawl from Knitty.com along with at least one person on Plurk, but I simply MUST finish the Pinwheel blanket first.

I found some off-white acrylic yarn (Wintuk, it turns out...must have inherited it from somebody) and started a pretty, wide, pointy lace border from Knitting Beyond The Edge, and I liked it. A lot. I liked it so much, in fact, that even though that little voice of reason and skepticism was whispering in my ear that it was too wide, taking too long, and I would run out of yarn, I argued with it. I told that little voice that, well, wasn't it a huge blanket? A skinny, flimsy border would look like an afterthought, not an accent. Don't I need something to balance out the body of the blanket? If I'm going to be spending all this time knitting it, I don't want the finishing touch to look unworthy of the time I'm putting into it. Besides, a thirty-stitch-wide border can't take THAT much longer than the runner-up, a thirteen-stitch border with a bit of a ruffle, can it? Surely not.

So, I knitted through four repeats of the big border, getting more and more proud of it as I went. I showed it to Nyte, and he made A Face. It was the face my little voice was making. I believe his words were, "Are you going to have enough yarn for that? Don't you think it's kind of...big?"

WHAT?! Who is the knitter here? Do you make things for babies? What do you say every time I ask your opinion on fashion, knitting, or almost anything creative? What was that? "I don't know about these things"? Was that it? Yes, it was. So shut your face, silly man, because you DON'T know anything about design for baby blankets. Humph.

As I knitted the next repeat, the little voice tried in vain to reason with me. It said, Okay, okay, maybe it's not too big. But look at your skein; it's at least a third gone, and you're only four and a half repeats into this thing. Maybe you should take some measurements...maybe see how many repeats you'll have to do to encircle the blanket? Maybe?

I did look at the yarn, and it did seem to be...well, diminishing at an alarming rate. I had three skeins, and I could probably fake it with at least one or two more, sort of, but I needed to compare the colors to be certain. And, I began to reflect, it had taken me a full evening of knitting just to do those four repeats, more or less. I had the pattern memorized after the first repeat, it was so intuitive, so I couldn't even pretend that it would go faster once I wasn't consulting the pattern every row.

Perhaps because I was keeping the incomplete blanket upstairs where neither cats nor kid could reach it, I admitted that maybe I needed to refresh my memory about just how big it was. It was reasonable to measure it, right? Responsible, organized knitters make educated guesses when they don't have an unlimited supply of a specific yarn, and the better ones measure even if they DO have an unlimited supply. And how would I feel if I used up all my off-white yarn, even the "spare" skeins I couldn't actually find but had somehow decided were a possible substitute, and I was still short? What if I was short by like, two feet? Do they even make Wintuk anymore (because the skein I have is at least 20 or more years old)? If they did, how long would I have to wait to scrape together enough money to buy another skein or two?

Reluctantly, I decided that in this case, perhaps I had better move up a step from just eyeballing guesses over to actually measuring and doing actual math and getting an actual, relatively factual, prediction.

As it turns out, I didn't even have to get out the measuring tape. I laid the edging against the blanket, spread it out on my king-sized bed, and looked at it. And I also might have sworn a good bit. Definitely not going to make it, not by any stretch of the imagination, on three skeins and in less than three more weeks of knitting, if I knitted on it for several hours a day. And then I swore some more. There may have been wailing and gnashing of teeth.

I haven't ripped out that edging yet. I've started on the runner-up pattern from the same book, on a different skein of the Wintuk, and it is also an easy pattern to memorize and I've had no trouble with it. I took the book and supplies with me to my family reunion, and now I have a good bit of edging done. I'm almost afraid to measure it against the blanket, in case I find the length of edging I've done is not the 1/4th I'm hoping it is, but more like 1/10th. According to my calculations, the circumference is somewhere over 12 feet. That's a lot of edging, but it's do-able. I can hack it.

I just don't know if I can keep myself from casting on for Shipwreck; I already have beads picked out and everything. Man, do I want to do this thing...and if I'm going to keep up, I need to get started pronto!

Edit: I am AWESOME at forgetting my html. Wow.

I'm working on yet another Pinwheel baby blanket for a friend's first baby. Because Monaneron got rid of a ton of her yarn (everything with wool in it, as half of her family is allergic, as well as a bunch of misc. acrylics and cottons that she didn't really have a purpose for), I've had quite a time trying to figure out what to do with it. I chose a multicolored pastel rainbow variegated acrylic, Lion Brand's Jiffy (which has a bit of mohair-like halo) in Salem. Because I received the yarn in a big black trash bag, I fished out as many as I could find, which at the time was four. Perfectly reasonable for a baby blanket.

Like all circular blankets worked from the inside out, it goes fast for the first two and a half skeins. After that, your rows are getting stupid-long and it begins to just get ridiculous. Pretty soon you can't wait to just finish the damn thing, no matter how big it's supposed to be or how much yarn you have left. In fact, I submit to you that the more yarn you knit up in a big project, the more you tend to hate it. At least, I do. I'm impatient, and I want it to be done RIGHT NOW, especially when there's a deadline. If it's for someone else (which it almost always is), I just want it to be done so I can work on something else. If I work on something else, there's a risk that I'll get distracted and not want to finish the first project. I'm sure you're familiar with this phenomenon. It's annoying. It really screws with your productivity.

At any rate, I've been chugging along on this blanket for a while now. It helps that I'm using new stitch markers, pretty silver ones with shiny pink and clear beads (purple for the start-of-row marker) delineating the sections where I need to yarn over. I found three more balls of yarn in the bag, bringing the grand total to 7. Each ball is supposed to be 105 yards, so that's a substantial amount of yarn. I'm also using my Knitpicks' nickel-plated interchangeable circulars, but the glue holding the flexible plastic cables to the sockets is disintegrating and so I can't pull too hard when I shift the stitches around. The cable is also now jam-packed with stitches, and when I'm finally done with this it's going to be quite a good size.

Sunday, I worked on it as much as I possible could, as I was finally on the last ball of yarn. I had decided to knit a lacy edging in a different, smoother yarn that would complement the palette (which is heavy on the pink and purple) but still show the lace pattern. Not something difficult, just a nice little touch. I picked out an edging from Nicky Epstein's Knitting Beyond the Edge and planned to go through my now enormous stash of acrylic yarn for a suitable edger today. There was a lot of new stuff that I had only pawed through a bit, and needed a lot more scrutiny and perhaps even more organization.

Today, Monday, I pulled out the various bags and boxes of assorted and intermingled yarns, tossing them into piles on the bed, piles that would indicate suitability. I emptied out all the wool, found stashes of cotton I had forgotten about, and all my leftover sock yarn. And then I sorted through the big black trash bag, all the way to the bottom.

And there at the bottom, hiding underneath several partial skeins of Caron Simply Soft Brites, was another goddamn skein of the fucking Lion Brand Jiffy in Salem.

RARGH. SO CLOSE.

You'll have to wait a little bit for the next installment of Lovecraft, as I haven't finished typing up today's post. I severely miscalculated how much a pain in the ass it would be to type dense paragraphs of rambling prose from a paperback book, especially without a book holder or someone patient enough to sit with me a couple of hours and not move much. I do enjoy the story, I just wish I had a stand and didn't have a Podling to run past every three minutes and knock the book from however I had it propped up. So, when little man goes down for a nap, I'll finish that up right quick and pop it up here. (Matters are not helped by the sensitivity of this keyboard. I think things are fine as I type, then look down and every couple of words has double letters in it. Awesome.

At any rate, how are you liking it? Thoughts, questions, critiques? I personally love the mesh of science and folklore that Lovecraft does, and then he throws in something completely out of the blue and crazy. As someone who is frequently frustrated by her shortcomings in math and science, this sort of story puts both subjects into the realm of the fantastical, which it has always sort of been in my opinion. I know others would disagree vehemently, but the more advanced studies of just about any subject can turn into a magical world of incomprehensible rules and fantastic possibilities. Maybe a small part of me has always thought that magic is nothing more than a more advanced understanding of the mechanics of the universe, and everything supernatural is only so because we haven't figured it out yet. I like that idea, if only because it means that there is magic all around us if we stop limiting our perceptions so narrowly, and even better than that, there is so much potential to be had!

One of my favorite explanations for the miracles Jesus Christ performed was that everything he did was simply speeding up natural processes. Not magic in the sense of wands and creating crazy, unnatural, monstrous effects (whether "good" or "bad") that would contradict his claim to be the son of the Great Creator, but maintaining the Order Of Things. Just....faster. (Water to wine: rain falls and nourishes grapevines, they grow fruit, fruit is processed and fermented, and voila, wine. Healing. Multiplying loaves and fishes: fish breed and you get more fish, grain is planted and you get more grain. Raising the dead: either an extension of the healing, or actually time reversal, which is kind of a stretch, but...work with me here.) Ever since I heard that, it's been pretty clear to me that Jesus was totally a Time Mage. (Blasphemyyyyy, blasphe-you.... blasphe-everybody-in-the-room)

And all right, maybe that sounds silly and mocking, and I'm sure a lot of very nice people from my family and my past would have lot to say about that. Despite the fact that it seems like I'm trying to make Christianity more like a novel based on a role-playing game, it doesn't actually make the story of Jesus any less believable. I don't know if it makes it feel any more believable either, but it puts it into a different perspective, and I like different perspectives. I like looking at long-held beliefs/opinions through different eyes and with different references. Do that enough, and in my opinion you'll find the truth in anything, and isn't that what we should be striving for?

So, to bring this all back around, Lovecraft is taking the idea of very advanced mathematics and geometry to interesting places, like dimensional and time travel. Who hasn't had thoughts like that late at night (excess of alcohol and/or medication optional)? It's like the special chalk and wall in Pan's Labyrinth or the random dimensional portal behind the kid's bed in that one episode of The Twilight Zone? (Speaking of which, I still have trouble watching certain episodes of that show. The mounting tension and grotesque ideas (even if not gross, it's horror that transcends the makeup and special effects available to them at the time) are just too much for me anymore. I've never been a big fan of horror, mainly because I can freak myself out easily enough on my own without vivid imagery to plague my mind for the next week or so, thanks.)

Anyway, maybe I'm just hoping that one day I'll be vacuuming under the couch or pulling boxes out of the closet and find a completely new world, a la Alice. Those sorts of stories have always had a special attraction for me, and I know why. From the myriad of similar stories, I suspect I'm not alone in this, either.

I'm coming to realize more and more how...well, how pretty much impossible it would be for me to try and do this lifestyle change on my own. When it comes to changing my food habits, especially the way I use food, I have to be dragged kicking and screaming to actually make any changes. Attempts to force me to do something will be met by fierce, fierce resistance of the most immature variety (I have been known to nod and smile during well-meant exhortations, and then as soon as the speaker is distracted, make a batch of cookies or cupcakes in passive-aggressive protest)(not to mention, of course, the grumpy faces and oh-so-witty retorts of "your FACE needs to eat healthier" and "you're not the boss of me"). It's really a wonder I've stayed married even this long. In my defense, my coping mechanism and source of comfort was being threatened; it's a measure of my commitment to and affection for him that I didn't do any of the much worse things I was contemplating.

As it turns out, I'm quite certain that Nyte just timed things properly. I was in a vulnerable state with my job situation, deeply unhappy, and scared about our financial state, and it was at that point that we made the deal. Overwhelmed with disbelief and relief that he wasn't upset at me for quitting, I probably would have agreed to just about anything at that point, just so I didn't have to go back to That Place. I'm lucky he restrained himself to just a couple of things I had been meaning to do anyway, and not all the things that I'm sure he'd like to see. But I mean, it's not like he doesn't reap the benefits too, you know? If momma's happy, everybody's happy. (Folks, when you're looking to pick a person for keeps, pay attention to this little detail. If s/he is never satisfied, you'd do best to move along down the row. And I don't mean ambitious people; to an extent, ambition keeps you moving, doing, creating, wanting. No, what I'm talking about is the inability to really be happy with themselves and what they've achieved. Very ambitious people are happiest when they're climbing a mountain, and once they're over it they get itchy for the next one, but they're not unhappy that they climbed it in the first place.)

I do have to say that I've been happier than I've been in a long, long time. It's hard, to be sure, but I'm finding a balance, a daily structure that's working for me pretty well. It helps tons that I'm getting my environment cleared, cleaned and decluttered. It helps me think, it makes me happy that I've checked it off my list, and it's another step in the direction of the kind of person I want to be. Not a clean freak, but someone who knows that she has her possessions and environment in control, not the other way around. Now I'm not constantly thinking about cleaning and organizing, because it's mostly done. (No, really. Even the basement is unpacked and everything has a home. I just have to clean out the bedroom and the linen closet, and everything else is weekly maintenance. This has never happened.) I like order. When things have a place, I put them there. I'll admit to being more than a little prissy about some things, and sometimes I get excited about doing the ironing (not always - just occasionally) because I'm getting closer to defining the vague idea I've always had about the kind of person I want to be. Clean, but comfortable. Able to see my kid as more than a walking mess-maker or a pretty pretty prince who can do no wrong, and on top of the to-do-list enough to be able to do special fun things together. Someone who is prepared enough to throw together a meal, but isn't driven by schedules, lists, or the fear of someone else working in her kitchen. I'm not there yet, but I'm getting closer. Money plays a big part in this picture, and I don't yet know how we will resolve that, but we're working on it. It's a problem a lot of people are having, so a part of me doesn't really feel like this is all our fault. While that helps, it's too easy to fall into the victim mentality and waste time by not helping ourselves out of it, so I do have to be careful about that. We'll get it, though. It might take a couple more years of scraping and struggling, but Nyte is too smart and talented to be kept down by the economy for long, and I'm going to be publishing in a year or two, so surely that will help some, after a while.

Speaking of writing, I did really well up until this week. Anticipating my family's arrival, I was trying to get housework done before they got here so I could spend time with them. Unfortunately, I wore myself out getting things done around the house and having the nerve to be susceptible to that whole Red Tent event and the fatigue and pain and nausea associated with it, so neglected to get my writing done for the past two days. Now I'm sitting here and posting instead of writing, my family is downstairs eating the breakfast burritos Nyte made, and they smell fantastic. I'm up here in my room (bed is made - this is a huge deal and I feel like a Real Grown-Up when I do it), hunched over my little Asus Eee PC, drinking lukewarm coffee and looking out the window, and I'm still at 0 of 3000 words.

I can do this. I just have to unplug the internet part of it and do the writing. I can do this.

*unplug*

Huzzah, we have internets again! No more beating my head against the wall trying to get the mysterious and unsecured linksys in the neighborhood to let me load just ONE MORE PAGE (and toward the end, any page at all). I'm back, I'm catching up, and soon all will be right with the world again.

In the meantime, my family has suddenly come to visit for a few days. So, my catching up will be slower than it normally would. On the plus side though, there are more people to play with (that is, wear out) the Podling while I get housework done.

People, I'm on a freaking roll. I've been doing the vegan thing for...three weeks now? And not as strictly as Nyte has, either, but my energy is something approaching normal. And by "normal" I mean "what other people seem to have." The key for me, it seems, is to go low-fat, low glycemic-impact, and go very easy on the processed soy products. I had some "Vegan General Tso's" from Whole Foods about a week ago, and while it was tasty and would work in a pinch, the next day I was sluggish and cranky and so unwilling to get off the couch that I figured I was about to hit day one of the old Cycle, but after a day or two of flushing out my system, I was back up on my feet. I figured, though. Nyte's mom is big on the MacDougall (McDougle? McDoogal?) take on veganism, which is to not try to replace meat with soy products, but to get yourself out of the habit of making meals center around a meat and then a few starchy sides.

So, more experimentation is needed, but I have to admit, albeit grudgingly, that I feel better.

Happy Birthday, antheia!! Hope it is lovely and full of coffee and hockey and confetti and cakes.

Oh yes! Daily update time!

So far we have two votes for At The Mountains Of Madness by Lovecraft, and zero votes for anything else.

Take a look at the original poll here, and cast your vote! Only a few days left...

Went to Red, White and Boom last night, sort of. We didn't go downtown into the madness, but joined some friends at the top of the visitors' parking garage at OSU Medical Center...and also a whole lot of other people. The Podling did his "I am made of cute, give me things" routine, and almost scored some sparklers and lollipops from strangers. And that was just while I was following him around on the monkey backpack leash; I don't know if I want to know what he got when Nyte had the other end of the leash.

There was music, and the Podling danced and danced and danced. He loves to dance, and he loves music. (Easy to see, since both Nyte and I are musically-inclined.) He attracts a lot of attention, being a generally cute kid and relatively well-behaved, so it's never dull. He's big for his age, so people think he can talk and handle more than he really can (such as gum, candies, open flame, etc.), and of course he's game for it.

We went to meet some people one evening in the Arena district, and since Nyte works in that area of downtown, we just parked in his normal work lot and walked a couple of blocks to BD's Mongolian BBQ. We use the monkey-leash more than the stroller anymore, since the Podling would rather walk (and is now capable of doing so reliably). It's just something I picked up at Target; a backpack-style harness with a stuffed monkey head and body, the arms and legs as the harness, and the tail as the leash. It's adorable, it works well, and he's learning to tolerate it, more or less (less when he really, really, REALLY wants to run into the street and we won't let him). Anyway, we were walking back to the car from dinner, and on the way we walk through some brick-lined pedestrian-only streets, past several restaurants/pubs with patio seating, and most of them have music playing out there. The Podling kept stopping to dance, which was adorable and really tickled the people around us. Two gents in business attire talking about business-y things were walking behind us as we approached a set of stairs, and they had ample room to go around us if they wanted, but they hung back and laughed and watched him take a few steps, then stop to do his little Peanuts dance. I'll admit it, he was adorable. And when he's in the checkered button-up with the navy sweater-vest over it with his good navy shorts, I do go a little wibbly around the edges and tell Nyte we need new babies, stat. it's not something I can control; he's too damned cute, and I kind of lose my mind.

ANYWAY. So the plan tonight is to hang out with people around 7 at the Park of Roses/Whetstone Park for more fireworks, but it's a 75% chance of rain, so...we don't know what will happen. At any rate, we'll hang out with friends and hope for the best.

Currently I am listening to Nyte read a book about getting us healthy and fixing all our medical and mental and emotional problems with diet and exercise. I am naturally both skeptical and resentful, and the little girl inside of me that loves sweeties is screaming at the top of her lungs in horror at the prospect.

The Podling is dancing around the living room in a green tee-shirt and diaper with a mostly-eaten cob of corn in his hand. Occasionally he pauses mid-boogie to take a huge, aggressive bite of corn, says "mmMMMm!" and continues with the shaking of his Groove Thing. It is almost too much to bear.

Hm. Apparently we will be hanging out with people SOON...and I had better go wash up. I'm hoping there will shortly be tasty things to eat, but I suspect I will be glowered into not eating them if they contain meat or much sugar. Sadface.

So far, we have one vote for the "At The Mountains Of Madness and Other Tales of Terror" by H.P. Lovecraft.

What I am beginning to worry about is the potential copyright issue. Even though the authors may be deceased, several of them probably still have active rights. In the case of Lovecraft, there are a lot of questions about whether not his works are now in the public domain. There were copyright problems after his death, and while there may have been temporary resolutions, no one is sure whether or not the copyrights were renewed before the cutoff date. If they weren't, then most (if not all) of his work is public domain already. As far as I can tell, Shakespeare should be in the public domain as well, but I have doubts about A Clockwork Orange, seeing as it was published in 1962, and it definitely has not been 70 years since its publication.

I'll do some more research and see what I can find out. Hey, at least I'm learning something about copyright law!

Update:

Ok, a couple hours of internet searching has revealed that I'll have to take two options off the list. It seems that A Clockwork Orange and all but one or two of C.S. Lewis' works are still under copyright. However, there are still quite a few options available. We can add in more Shakespeare if you like, or other classics. Just make sure they're not long stories, you know?

Trust me. It'll be a spot of culture in your otherwise normal day.

(Original poll is here.)

Here's the short of it (as opposed to the long and short of it): this Twilight book is really getting to me. It makes me sad and punchy, and I'm losing my focus on things literary and beautiful. To help me regain this, and also to get me back into the habit of posting daily (I really enjoyed the quotes thing, but now I don't have a handy day-planner with daily quotes to nick from), I've decided to start posting small bits of a story every day. Not mine; at least, not yet. No, I've decided to go with some classic literature, here.

Here's the fun part - you guys get to choose the book.

Now, I don't think anyone is particularly interested in reading a paragraph or two of something the size of Anna Karenina every day for six years, so I've chosen smaller books, some short stories, some plays - that sort of thing. Not that I don't love you all, but at some point in the next year I'd like to go on vacation for a day or two.

I'd post a proper poll, but my paid LJ status ran out a long while ago, and it's kind of a luxury item. Instead, here's a quickie old-school poll. I'll leave it up for a week, posting daily updates and reminders to vote, for those (like me) who don't check every day.

1. At The Mountains Of Madness and Other Tales of Terror, H.P. Lovecraft

2. Hamlet, Shakespeare

3. As You Like It, Shakespeare

4. A Clockwork Orange, Anthony Burgess

5. The Light Princess and Other Fantasy Stories, George MacDonald

6. Pygmalion, George Bernard Shaw

7. An Experiment In Criticism, C.S. Lewis

8. Other (please specify in the comments, and if I don't have it, be prepared to send it to me! But if it gets enough votes, I'd be more than happy to use it.)


As for the legalities of this venture, well...I don't know if it's legal or not. Feel free to give me your thoughts on that as well. I don't want to rip anyone off, or infringe on anyone's rights. What I want to do is read some of the books I have on my shelf, books that are hailed as classics, and share them with my friends. My hope is that you'll head over to the library or the bookstore before I've finished posting, and acquire the book yourself, and perhaps a few others you've been meaning to pick up. I'd also like to discuss it with you, so...thoughts?

Eleventy-billion: number of tasks I seem to think must be done rightnowomgthissecond.
Overwhelmed: the state I am in...constantly.

We have been eating healthier lately, Nyte, the Podling and I, and the brain fog brought on by bad food, too much animal protein, and not enough fresh plants is beginning to lift, little by little. I am still unable to hear out of my left ear, both my ears, my throat, and my sinuses still hurt, I'm still tired and cranky and generally feeling like I'm spinning my wheels now that I'm feeling well enough to want to do things, but not well enough to actually do hardly any of them without relapsing. (For those of you keeping track at home, I have two days of antibiotics left, and have now been sick for almost two weeks.)

( Wherein I discuss eating habits, illness, emotional eating and more. )

In the meantime, I'm going to sip my coffee and write a list of the things that are overwhelming me. Specifically, the different tasks I seem to think are looming over me, the things I punish myself for not doing, the things that I seem to think are standing between me and happiness, or completion, or being enough. It can't actually be that big a list. I have to be blowing this out of proportion somehow.
( The List )
Now, some of those are quick fixes, some of those are going to take a looooong time, and some of those are going to be back on the list every day/week/month. I think the key here is to accomplish the ones that only need to be done once. That will shorten the list considerably, I'll feel better about my environment and myself, and I'll feel like progress has been made, which always helps inspire me to tackle more things, even the ones that will need to be re-done tomorrow. I think I'll put asterisks by the ones I should tackle today, and tell myself that tomorrow I'll do the other ones. It's not procrastinating if I'm still doing work, right? Because my Inner Martha is screaming at me for neglecting my child and having a dirty kitchen. (Shush, woman!)

I finished some plain stockinette and ribbed socks in a pretty ocean-themed color of Tofutsies. I'll take pics someday, and show you all. Of course, I immediately cast on for a new pair of stockinette socks in Mega Boot Stretch that I purchased months ago, started, decided I didn't like my gauge, tore out, and shoved in a drawer instead of picking them back up again. However, I might throw in some wandering cables, and see how I like it. It's a 2-ply yarn, with black barber-poled around a slowly color-changing orange/magenta/burgundy/gold. Interesting, to say the least.

Oh, and yesterday when I popped over to The Yarn Shop for more Hiya-Hiya double-pointed needles (I love them so, so, so much that I decided I NEEDED another set of US size 1's and also picked up a set of US size 0's, since the set I got previously turned out to be US size 000's), I picked up some more pretty stitch markers and a skein of Wisdom Yarns' Poems Sock. It's 75/25 superwash wool/nylon, in a slow color change single ply. It's a lower twist than Austermann Step or...well, pretty much any other sock yarn single I've ever seen, so I'll have to be careful with it. And, the sales lady showed me the pair of socks she was making, to warn me that there could possibly be the occasional big slub. She wasn't sure if it was just her skein or not, as it's the company's first go at sock yarn, and they might have gotten a rough batch. However, her skein was brightly multicolored and the color changes not so subtle and quite sudden, looking more like Noro than mine does. Mine is a sort of dark eggplant fading into a pale lavender and all the shades in between, very cool and subdued. I likey.

Have GOT to take pics...but in the meantime, I'll be working on the Baudelaire socks, which seem to have sorted themselves out, and I can work on them now that I have a second set of size 1 Hiyas, since that's what I started them on and I'd like to stay consistent. I also started on the Gumdrops socks from 2008's BMFA sock club, in the Socks That Rock pastel colorway that came with it (whose name I cannot remember, as I can't put my hands on the ball band at the moment), but that is all of eight or nine rows in, so I hesitate to say that it's properly started.

I also ripped out my very first pair of socks, as they were too big and unwearable, balled them up, and started to re-knit them now that I understand what gauge they need to be for my feet, but the yarn is unfortunately ramen-noodle-like and needs to be skeined, washed, thoroughly dried, and re-balled before I can do that. I keep saying I'll knit them as my next pair of plain stockinette (sooooo nice to be able to shove in one's purse when one needs knitting but has to pay attention to other things too), but they'll require a bit of work first.

All this and I haven't even started sewing up Fish Blanket #2. I'm quite sure I'm missing some yellow fish, so the reorganization of the closets and the bedroom should turn up any forgotten stash they might be hiding in, and failing that, I'll actually lay out all the fish and count them.

But first, the Podling bellows. He's up from his nap, so I'd better go get him before he takes matters into his own hands and climbs out of his crib. Again.

I have to get back into the swing of this. I'm not writing anything but the occasional Plurk or Facebook update, and even those are drying up. And since I have to start getting ready for work in an hour, I'll have to make this quick. No navel-gazing today.

Work - made of suck. I go anyway. I'm so very happy that I don't have to work late on Saturdays on a regular basis, I could do a little dance. I won't, but I could. Next time I need more hours (which is honestly all the time), I'll just do a half-day, and/or go earlier so that I don't have to be there when our ticketing system and tools go down. Especially because it doesn't come up until the next morning, and I don't come back in for at least two days, and I have to rely on my supervisor putting them in for me the next day. The rules don't cover what happens in those situations, and my supervisor is going to China, so he doesn't care about anything. (In fact, I think he's already gone. I don't have a new sup yet, so nobody to ask.)

Tuesday I was late (w/in the 5-minute grace period, though) because there was some sort of traffic issue on Trabue. I don't know what was going on, but it took me ten minutes to drive half a mile. Guh. I can't even leave earlier, since I can't leave until Nyte gets home.

Knitting - I'm deep in the throes of start-itis. I've been considering getting a few more pairs of US size 1 and 0 double-pointed needles, just so I can start more socks. Even though that is not the solution, that's what I want to do. Silly me. The Baudelaire sock is still in time-out, because I was happily knitting up the cuff, and when I tried to put it on, I could get the damned thing over my heel, even though I'd increased by four stitches just a repeat or two ago. The lace pattern isn't very stretchy, so I either need to rip back a few inches and knit it as ribbing (which would mess with the look, and I don't want to do) instead, or rip back and increase even more, trying it on between repeats and increased, which is probably what will happen. I want it to be a tall sock, so I'll have to increase eventually to fit my...erm...ample calves, I just don't know what it will do to the pattern. It's an interesting pattern, and very pretty, but the yarn itself (Lorna's Laces Shepherd Socks) isn't very fluffy or springy, so the lace doesn't poof out much. Not to mention it's not a solid...but it's kind of cool. I've considered several times just ripping it out, but it doesn't look bad with the variegated colors, it's just not springy yarn. It's not very elastic either, so I'm sure that doesn't help.

Baby - He's cute, he's enjoying Yo Gabba Gabba a lot, he's dancing and jumping and climbing, and he seems to be teething again. We're going to have to re-arrange the living room again, since he's figured out how to get behind the couch to the No Baby Zone, so it's not safe to leave him downstairs alone for hardly any time. I keep meaning to post pictures, but as usual I'm on the wrong computer for that.

Events - I've already gotten two birthday cards, one from my grandparents with old newspaper clippings in it, and one from mah Buhfly. :) It is very cute. I am indeed a princess.

In other news, Origins is coming up. I don't know if we'll be there all weekend, as I'm not sure if we'll a.) want to be there the whole time, b.) be able to purchase passes for the whole time c.) be doing other things with friends who are visiting, d.) have trouble keeping track of the Podling, who might only last a few hours a day. It'll be a busy weekend in general, but if you're going to be in town and attending, let me know! We should arrange something to make sure we meet up. Nyte and I also like to organize a Buca di Beppo trip on the weekend, usually Saturday, and we like to get a lot of people together. If you haven't been, you should definitely go! It's family-style Italian, each dish serves multiple people, and the more people we get, the more things we can order and try out. Great stuff.

In other other news, I ran out of baking cups, so now there is a chocolate cake cooling in the kitchen. I do believe I'll go have a piece before jumping into the shower. Ta, lovelies!

I started this entry yesterday, but never got past the subject line. I kept thinking about having to go back to work in a few hours and getting too close to panic.

Tuesday was my first day taking live calls, and it was....bad. The customers weren't mean or anything; more your average person who doesn't understand the technology they use every day, and let's be honest, that's not uncommon. I can't pretend I know the ins and outs of everything I own, but I can read the remote control, at least. A large number of the people on the phone could not quite do that, but often that meant that the problem was simple, and asking the right questions went quickly, so long as the person didn't just tell me what they thought I wanted to hear instead of...well...what the answer actually was. So the customers weren't really the problem; it was just...I didn't know what to do. I felt like I couldn't find anything, and I couldn't remember my openings, closings, all the little nitpicky things that make the difference between a decent QA score and an automatic 0. (There are a lot of things that can get you an automatic 0, and many of them we are still not aware of, I am discovering. Hell, there are some things the training bay mentors can't agree on, if that gives you some idea of how often things change back and forth.)

Tuesday, we went directly into a classroom for an hour and the TBM's went over call-floor rules, and went over a few points that we really needed to know. Things that the trainers are required to tell us, but that are actually not true on the floor. Things that the client requires all new employees to be told, but that are not actually put into practice because they are ridiculous, or our site is not set up for it, or the client itself has not actually given us permission to do, or will drive up our call times by 30%. Sometimes things that contradict our trainer, procedure-wise, just because it's faster to troubleshoot things this way.

ANYWAY. My point to all this is, Tuesday we were in a classroom for an hour, and after that they paired us up and one person would take the call, while the other listened in and tried to help. After lunch, we switched. And it was rough. It's performing and doing a puzzle and reciting and social skills, and all that while documenting and reading up about the issue. It's a lot. I understand a lot more why so many people on the phone suck - it's freaking overwhelming sometimes. And being a perfectionist, I am worried about everything. My call times, my client, my problem, my QA (even though those scores won't matter our first week)...it's no wonder I was shaking the whole time and my stomach has been...unpleasant...for days. It still is.

Yesterday I went in, full of apprehension (no classroom time, and taking calls alone right off the bat) and panic and weakness, and despite all that, it was better. I got yelled at by people who couldn't figure out the automated phone menu and kept getting the wrong department, and deafened by people who didn't think their video service was loud enough (I could hear their tv through the phone so clear and loud that I couldn't hear the caller), and people who didn't know what phishing scams were and wanted to know why the client would send her an email telling her to update her email or her services would be canceled. But it wasn't terrible. I had some issues that shouldn't have happened (one of the other call centers is not following procedure, and we are getting slammed because of it), but the TBM's are generally right there to answer our questions. I'm not excited about the idea that next week we will not have anyone to answer our questions when we don't know what to do (except the poor Tier 3's who are overextended and dumped on all the time), and then the QA's and stats will begin to count, and I will be nervous wreck for sure.

But, I should be working my part-time schedule by then, so at least I should be better rested. At the moment I am punchy and irritable and all my joints are a mess (even my hands), and I'm dehydrated (no presence of mind to drink anything at my desk), and things are starting to hurt that worry me. I had a kidney infection about a month ago (another), and that is strongly in my mind when my lower back starts hurting and I'm exhausted and dehydrated. I'm nervous and panicky and all sorts of in a bad frame of mind. I hate it.

On a related note, Crazy Aunt Purl is talking again about the idea of "living life on layaway," something that has always resonated strongly with me. Uncomfortably so. It's the idea that someday, when I weigh X, or have X dollars, or have achieved X, or own X, then I will be happy and really start to live life. Until then though, I will be discontent and not do things I want to do, and it would be foolish to try. The idea that I'm not enough until this magical thing occurs.

It makes me sad that I think this way, but I do. I've always felt that way, as long as I can remember. "When I have money." I have some money right now. How much money? What exactly am I going to do with that money? Won't I then need more? "When I lose weight." Why do I have to lose weight to travel, or go to parties, or get a better job, or write a book? Why does the status of my exterior dictate the status of my interior? "When I have a house." Not only is that a long way off, it's an impractical mile marker. How does having a house make you content? Happy? Why would that mean I could suddenly become a merry Martha, and all my household problems disappear? If I had that capability, it would have manifested already, y'know? If I was going to have a Martha-style residence, then whether or not I owned it would have nothing to do with spiffing up the decor. "When I have a book published." ....then what? If I finish one, I'd better get cracking on the next one. I won't feel complete, I'll be a nervous wreck. What if nobody reads it? What if people read it? What if my family reads it? What if people don't like it? What if people do like it? What if I can't write another as good? What if I can't write another that's better?

Finding contentment in the present is difficult for me. I'm always thinking ahead, dreaming about the future, that perfect future, when I am....well, someone else. Maybe I equate contentment with stagnation. Maybe my numbing myself out is contentment. I can't tell anymore. Who says that being happy can't start with a cupcake? (Perhaps the one cupcake isn't the problem, it's the three that follow.)

Crap. I have to get ready for work. Again. At least it's money.