Get with it, Sunday.  Be a little creative.  Show us some originality, ok?  I’ll wait in the chair (right side up), drinking some tea and watching the same movie with the kids that they’ve already watched 500 times this week.  See what you can do.

But today I’ll just say that I picked up Joe Hill’s newest book (thanks to my dear brother in law, who actually buys new books instead of taking them out of the library or drooling on them in bookstores, as I do).  His other novel was good but not great, but this one has started with a bang – about 100 pages in and I already can’t put it down.    And, yes, he is Stephen King’s son and yes, it shows, but not so much as you’d think.  Just read the book and try to forget about it, okay?

I’m going to go now and try not to drink myself silly.  I have been taken down HARD by a vicious little head cold and I am just now – this minute! – starting to feel marginally better.  Unfortunately, the instant I start to feel less horrible I think I’m well and I want to do everything I missed out on while I was sick.  You can imagine how that ends.  So I’m going to try to hit the couch and drink some water and watch a movie and get to bed early.  Or read all ni- And get to bed early.

What I’m taking a long time in getting at here is that I saw a commercial on TV today that very nearly made my eyes and ears bleed.  It was for Lelli Kelly shoes, which either also include or can be purchased with a toy cell phone that holds scented (I swear) eye shadow.  For, like, 5 year olds.  The hell?  I mean, maybe the horrifying song and psychedelic colors triggered some kind of flashback, but I’m pretty sure I know what I saw.  Way to sexualize our young girls!  Well done!  I will be sure to ask the pregnant teenagers I work with how that’s working out for them.  Oh wait…  Also, scented eye shadow?  I can only imagine this burning through young eyelids and scarring innocent corneas.  But they will be pretty!  Pretty, blind, pregnant teens.  Awesome.

The closest commercial I could find to share with you is the German version, but that should bring the lulz, if nothing else does (but they’ve got lipstick instead of eye shadow).  You’ve been warned.

And now I will go let the Nyquil do it’s job…

I was also talked into doing Script Frenzy next month.  It did not take much convincing, to  be honest, but now I’m getting a little jumpy about it.  I’m not a screenwriter; I’m going to be writing a play.  I can honestly say that I’m not a playwright, either, although that’s what I studied lo these many years ago (almost 20 years ago, good fucking lord) when I went to college.  The sad fact is this: I really enjoy writing short stories, but I’m much better at writing plays.  Which isn’t to say I’m superstar playwright – I’m not.  It’s just that they generally turn out better than my short stories.  And since I write for myself and no one else, I continue to somewhat blissfully churn out kind-of-okay short stories.  Now that I finished grad school and have a little more time on my hands, though, I’ve started putting some of those extra hours into writing again and have started thinking about sending some things out so I can begin my rejection letter collection.  And then I realized: the reality is that there are a few groups locally that produce new plays, and right now I think it’s more likely that I’ll get something going that way than with the endless number of lit mags and etc. looking for short stories.  So off I go.  To be brutally honest, I also got roped into working with a quasi-drama club where I work, and sitting on the stage got me jonesing for theatre again, a little.  But we’ll let that be our secret, okay?

Finally sunny Saturday, and warm.  I should be outside walking or doing something to enjoy it all, instead of typing away.  You, too, right?  So let’s go.

But wait! Been over to the Beeton blog lately?  Well, go check it out.  I’m LaurieB over there.  I’m doing rude things with vinegar.

So my roof was man-handled by the storm this weekend.  70 mile an hour winds, apparently, will rip 16-year-old cheap-ass shingles to shreds.  And those shreds were all over my lawn Friday morning.  But, hey, I have a reason to be optimistic.  If the young-ish, perky sounding insurance lady was swayed by my genuine shock (SHOCK) that the roof basically fell off she may give me some cash money to get the thing fixed.  And since we really needed a new roof anyway, this could be a good thing.  Optimism, friends.  Optimism.

Speaking of which, March is finally here.  I said a not very fond “fuck you” to January when it was over, and I say it again to February.  Fuck you, February.  I am glad you are gone.  It’s actually been a decent winter, in the sense that it hasn’t snowed non-stop.  In fact, it’s hardly snowed at all.  But it’s still been winter, which has meant cold and slush and grey grey grey grey.  I was driving to work a couple of weeks ago and realized that the scene outside my window might as well have been black and white.  It is not inspiring, to say the least.

But, (optimism again), the days are longer and there are actually patches of green on the lawn (the part not covered by my wayward shingles) and by the end of this month I’ll have seeds started for the garden, and that’s all good.  And it will get better.

All this optimism, by the way, may be chemically induced.  About a month ago I started taking generic Zoloft.  My first foray into the world of psychopharmaceuticals, at least as a patient.  I’m reluctantly pro-meds.  I think they are way over prescribed, to be honest, because I think there is a lot of sadness and fear and etc. that is normal and natural and that we need to feel if we’re going to become bigger and better versions of ourselves.  But at the same time I’ve seen kids who were on the verge of not being able to function at all really get their lives back from meds.  Adults, too.  So… I’m conflicted, I guess, at best.  And when my own anxiety became quite literally overwhelming I spent a few weeks debating with myself and finally decided to try it.  The doctor who prescribed for me was a) super hot and b) really ethical in trying to determine if I need this or was just looking for a quick fix.  So I tried it and I’m pretty ambivalent.   It controls the anxiety to an extent and allows me to get through the day without crunching numbers in my head on an hourly basis (sounds like a good time, right?  why on earth give that up?).  And I sleep better, and am probably more patient and resilient.  But I do feel a little dulled, for lack of a better term.  A little tiny bit blurry and maybe a bit bland.  I don’t think this shows outwardly so much (the dull part), but I feel it.  The question is – was the anxiety so bad that this new set of changes is worth it?  And I’m not sure of the answer yet.  I’m going to give it a while longer, especially since the roof repair – even with any insurance money – is going to clean us out financially, my job may get cut for next year, and so on and so on.  But really long-term… I think I won’t be too attached to these meds.

And why the hell am I discussing this online?  Because I talk a lot, even electronically.  Because I’ve been kind of riffing about my life all along on this blog and feel no reason to stop now.  And because so many people are embarrassed about mental health issues that don’t need to be, because there is no “normal” at all and we are all, in one way or another either messed up or unique, depending on how you look at it.  So you will get my better living through chemistry experiment updates from time to time.  Feel free to laugh, or pat me on the back, or ask questions.

And don’t forget the Victorian orgy I’m participating in as LaurieB over here.  Flavored vinegar this week.  The sky is the limit next week.

Me: Your what?

G: My dog hog.  Dog hog hog!  Dog hog hog hog!

Me: Your ground hog?

G: Yes, my ground hog.  (Quietly, to herself.) My dog hog.

But it won’t.  It will be over in a week or so.  I am only twitter-capable in the meantime, although I’ll still try to put out the Beeton post this weekend, I think.  In the meantime, please head over to nell’s most recent and terribly well timed post, or just watch the video below.

And now the snow is falling and it’s one of those rare occasions where I really don’t care.  Usually I retreat to bed or, when that’s not possible, just endlessly bitch and moan during a storm, but not tonight.  It’s not supposed to be a ton of snow (4 or so inches), I have nowhere I absolutely have to be tomorrow (no school), and it’s supposed to be warm enough this week that at least some of it will melt.  So I’ve been salting lemons and blogging away and am looking forward to a cup of tea or something stronger before bed.  This is my kind of snow storm.

It’s been a rough week otherwise, with work and the internal messiness that winter generally creates for me.  It’s made me either wildly anxious or middle-school sentimental.  I prefer the latter, to be honest.  Although I do have to be careful to what I listen to when I’m in this state…  The songs have the words but not the ones I want; I parse the lyrics for some deeper meaning  I can apply to my own life, only I’m 37 and not 14 now, and it’s a less fun game than it was a couple of decades ago.

At least there is some good new music — Vampire Weekend’s latest is not too bad and the Phoenix that came out last year is downright dreamy.

Have you donated to Haiti relief via cell phone?  Text “Haiti” to 90999.  It’s all legit and everything.  This is the future, baby.  Do it.  You won’t notice that extra $10 but someone on the other end sure will…

So I’m a bit undone by the implications here.  Am I – are we all – inherently predictable?  Is my personality really easily quantifiable?  I’ve taken the Myers Briggs and other personality/interest/etc. tests multiple times, and am somehow pleased when the results change a little, test to test.  I tell people not to put too much stock in their own test results but, really, am I lying to them?  And what’s the big deal if I am?  What if people are easy to categorize?  So what?  My essential little snowflake uniqueness (with apologies to Chuck Palahniuk) melts away but I’m still here, aren’t I?

Maybe I just need a drink.

Anyway – heavy musings for the night done.  It’s been a long few months and I’m thinking that in 2010 it might just be time to get the hell over it and enjoy myself.  Care to join me?

In other news… I. is taking basketball lessons and is loving it.  I, however, enjoy sitting on bleachers for an hour every Sunday a little less.  I love watching him, don’t get me wrong, but my general feeling about bleachers is that I belong under them with a cigarette in my hand.  Which would be lovely, but terribly wrong in this circumstance.  I think I. is going the artsy route, honestly (he likes guitar lessons more than this) but I can only hope.  There was a mom in front of me today saying “Shoot it!  Shoot it!” to her third grader in practice.  And I was steamy.  I believe it was either my foot in her back or the weight of my distain that thurst her off the bench and sprawling onto the floor.  Or perhaps I just imagined that happening?  In any case, she stopped, but I continue to pray that I. sucks just a little at sports, like his dear old mom and dad.  Even if that means having another writer (shudder) or even actor (dear god) in the family.

Speaking of writing, I’m contributing to The Queen’s Scullery.  It’s fun and gives me a good excuse to make obsencely fattening food and write about it.  What could be better?  Check it out – I am LaurieB over there.

In short, I’m tired of convincing my lungs that another breath is a good idea.

But I’m fine; no reason for alarm.  I’m just weary and taking it out on you.

What I am, also, is kind of uninsprired.  Whether it’s from all the mounting things I’ve left unfinished, or from a profound change in how I look at the world over the past few months, or from this damn illness, I’m not sure.  Probably a bit of all of it, I’d say.  But it’s frustrating.  It’s not like I have nothing to say, it’s almost like there is so much to say that no one thing can fully come through my clogged pipes to get out.

And that last feels most true, I think, especially when I consider that my job for the past few months is to sit and listen and absorb and translate and reflect and reinterpret people’s stories.  Kids’ mostly, but also parents’, teachers’, friends’, and so on.  Endless stories.  Strories without end, I mean.  Unfinished.  And that’s left me flailing a litte, with lots of beginnings and middles but no ends.  In my job I very rarely get the end of things and while living with that ambiguity makes me a good counselor, it makes for a lousy writer.  At least now.  I have page after page (after file after file) of scraps of poems, mostly, and stories and character sketches.  Sitting and waiting, and unfinished.

Maybe they are tired and have the flu, too.

Things I like:

A new (to me, thx Mr. Harkaway) webcomic: xkcd.

The blog of a really interesting woman who was a porn star and is now in recovery from sex (and etc.) addiction.  She’s actually on Sex Rehab with Dr. Drew, but I find her blog (continuing the theme from my last post) pretty honest and brave and interesting and funny.  It’s called BecomingJennie – check it out.

Stuff I’m loving now:

fake michael_bay on Twitter.  Be sure to click on the website link on his page.

Pumpkinhead Ale from Shipyard.  Yes, still.  We may be thankful that the slutty nurse costumes are tucked away for another year, but this beer should be out year round.

Personal, professional, and virtual honesty.  I’ve been dealing with an incredibly passive aggressive coworker who generally disapproves of me and who has been driving me bat shit crazy.  After confronting her on it a couple of times over the past few days, I have to say she is still the same, but her attitude bugs me a lot less.  Amen to being honest, and who cares if everyone doesn’t like you?  Well, okay, I still do sometimes, but the older I get the less I care and the less I care, the happier I am.  And to continue a theme, I’ve had some personal conversations lately that revolve around and/or were driven by honesty and it feels like opening a window and airing out a room.  Completely priceless; try it, you’ll like.

And from a virtual standpoint, check out an unassuming girl for some brave, honest, and often searing blogging.

New music. The new Mike Doughty, the new Phoenix, and new old pixies.  Stay all day, if you want to.

Somewhere to go when I’m complete at a loss in my hipster/old-day geeky new hobby.  And whoever the woman is who taped herself knitting on KnittingHelp has saved my sanity more than once, as well.

Things my almost 3 year old wants for Christmas: (in her words)

A dollie.

A kitty cat.

A phone.

Places I’d rather be right now:

Japan.

Asleep.

In your arms.

Things I should be doing right now but am not:

Exercising.

Finishing a story that I’ve been dicking around with for two years.

Sleeping.

What My World Looks Like Lately:

This wild thing…

Just wanted to be clear about what you are getting here.

A day of crisis after crisis but then – I have about 240 kids on my caseload, so it’s really not all that unexpected.  Just tired now, and in need of something.  Something I’m dragging my feet about getting…  This is what I get for working when everyone else is unemployed.  Getting up at 5am, driving to work in the dark.  Oh,yeah – and a paycheck, helping kids, and etc.  Isn’t a complicated life lovely?  Wouldn’t we just hate a black and white/good and bad world?

My plan is an early retreat to bed.  Maybe some TV, maybe trying to seduce the man.  We’ll see…  Mostly I would just like to rest and be still and wake up with all the answers.

Ooooh!  Gloomy!

Hey, go see Where the Wild Things Are if you want gloom.  Was that exceptionally bleak or was that me?  I read the book to my kids all the time but never really thought about it’s lack of emotional payoff at the end.  Or maybe Mr. Eggers has just had his way with it.  Or maybe it’s the fat, wet snowflakes coming down when I got out of the movie.  Or maybe I just need that sleep…

Not that that is actually what is happening, but it’s a theory.

I tweet a little more often, so there is that.  You can see it on the funky sidebar, if you are so inclined.

So – trying to write some poetry, learning how to knit (two scarves and a little bit of knitter cred later…), working, trying not to have my heart explode, catching up with some old friends.  That about sums up the past few weeks.

Poetry is sporadic

[I interrupt here to recount a story told to me by a playwriting professor at Amherst College in which Tennessee Williams appeared -- drunk as you might imagine Tennessee Williams to be -- in one of his own plays.  He mostly sat slumped at the bar onstage, but when one of the other character mentioned "small craft warnings" he piped up to say, "And that's the name of this fucking play."]

and that’s the name of this fucking post.

Knitting is fine, although I try to avoid the hipster and also grandmotherly connotations and just do it.  I find it takes me out of my head while also sparking some ideas, which I can’t explain but will not complain about.  Work is pregnant teenagers and chubby boys threatening revenge — in other words, pretty good and about what you’d expect.

The heart thing is less fun.  I had some ER visits, which I don’t recommend.  Super fast heart beat and high blood pressure.  All the drawbacks of chronic coke use without the expense or the rush.  If I still did drugs I would be disappointed.   Then these crazy beats which are better but still happening.  They are called PVCs and we don’t know the cause and can’t make them stop.  Apparently, I can live a long and pissed off life with this, although, again, this is not my recommendation.

I think the change in my pulse has changed me in some fundamental way.  I feel like a different person, with a different rhythm and a different sense of time passing.  Although the beats have started to even out I haven’t sensed a return to self or anything like it.  I still feel jangly and off-center and somehow other.

Also, as I mentioned, pissed off.  I am only 37 and in good enough health.  I want my coffee dammit.  And some chocolate.  And a beer.

But it’s fall and there are leaves blowing around and the heat is on and how can you not be a little warmed at least by all this damn beauty and what can only be described as coziness?  Good lord, you’d have to be dead not to like being under a big blanket with someone you love while the wind howls and etc. etc. etc.   And there is a new Mike Doughty album which is good, and frequent dancing to Top 40 with the kids, and we put the winter and my pulse and ongoing money concerns on a list of things to think about later.

Although no promises to its continued existence.  We will roll with the punches here, and see what happens.

So I clicked in and thought, “Hey, nice site.  Oh yeah, it’s MY site.”  It’s been that long.  And the last post was all about the lulz for me – I ended up not going to graduation because G. was sick and the FIL had surgery and my parents couldn’t come and so on and so on.  Very much a FAIL weekend all around.  But graduated!  So there was good, too, and now it’s history…

And then came the endless job hunting obstacle course cum gauntlet cum constant wtf.  I got interviews, which was good, but no jobs, which was bad.  And then came one of those serendipitous things that happen and afterward we either wonder and exclaim over them or grin a little and ignore them…  There was an opening for a position that looked great but that was 1 hour and 10 minutes away; just a bit beyond my original search area.  I had pretty much decided not to apply, but was still not sure…  Then I went out to dinner with two friends/mentors and one of them just happened to mention that his first job in the field was over an hour away from his home and that he hated the commute but it helped get him to a job he really wanted close to home just a year or two later and wasn’t he smart to take it?  So I went home, put the stamp on the envelope and dropped it in the mailbox and – to spare you the fakey suspense – I just finished my first week at that job and am damn lucky to have it.  I am one of the only people I graduated with to be working at all.

So here I am all employed and tired, you know, because I have to wake up before 5:30 in the morning (which is an entirely uncivilized time, in my book) but, still, employed and  I like the people so far, and the kids, and even some of the parents.  And wow is it amazing not to be in complete fear every time Saturday rolls around and the fridge gets empty.  Actually, this is the last weekend before we get paid some of that cash money, yo, and we are cruising in under the wire with $200 in the bank account, day care and car loan as yet unpaid, and a gas credit card that has not been maxed out.  At least, though, there is light (e.g. aforementioned cash money, yo) at the end of the tunnel (read: Friday) so I am feeling more grateful than worried, for the first time in about three years.

It’s a good feeling, it really is.

Now I am going to go take a nap.