January 11, 2005

January 11, 2005

It utterly shocks me that something so small, a seemingly insignificant piece of plastic, can completely change your life.
                                                
(positive pregnancy test)
   I have a certain empathy for Thomas that I never felt
before, only I have “seen with my eyes” and I still doubt.  My
mind somehow refuses to view a little pink line as an acceptable form
of evidence.  Instead it resorts to a more rational (read:
psychotic) means of proof.  Analyzing every molecular thing
my body does.  I swear to you, I can actually feel aerobic
cellular activity.   No wonder mothers are neurotic,
for the first nine months of their child’s life, they’re benched, all
they’re allowed to do is take vitamins and worry.  I’m combating
this by recording and complaining about everything.  So if you
don’t want to hear whining about my gigantic boobs, or my expanding
tummy then now would be a good time to take me off you subscription
list…at least for nine month.
Yeah ok…   So somebody please say something.

December 10, 2004

December 10, 2004

“…they’re not the judge – God’s the judge. The only person you have to think twice about lying to is
either yourself or to God.”
                                       
Bob Dylan
~ brilliance
       ……I would add my husband to
that list, but lying to him is as harmful as lying to myself.
I was hoping I could just let the quote stand alone, but unfortunately
my need to talk about things overcomes my desire to make a
point.  
  I lie, I admit it.  I don’t see a problem with it
generally, but neither do I seek it out as the easiest alternative to
truth.  The danger in me actually admitting this, lies in my
trustability, likeability…the lack thereof.  I would rather be
thought of as trustworthy, but the truth is I am…and I am not.
I don’t think I’m capable of lying to my friends, and theirs is the
trust I seek.

December 5, 2004

December 5, 2004

intense dislike of shoes.
I never wear shoes, unless it’s so cold I’m in danger of losing feet to
frostbite.  I would rather go barefoot and risk stubbing my toes
or getting bit by a snake, spider, scorpion, which is more likely than
the frostbite thing.  I like to think it’s because I’m
independent, although more likely I’m just swinging too far from having
to wear shoes and nylons everyday in the past.
   I got married barefoot, drive barefoot, go horse back
riding barefoot, and recently laid tile while barefoot. If  I
can’t get away going barefoot,  I wear flip flops.  I
sometimes have to wear shoes, but I like wearing shoes when I think they make me look sexy. (emphasis on think)
sometimes I write to punish myself

December 3, 2004

December 3, 2004

I lied about there being a part II
Logic is an amazing thing.  Something so solid, yet so relative. 
This morning Julia decided she didn’t like her shoes anymore.  At
the tender age of four she is already a slave to fashion and style, and
a hopeless shoe addict.  After spending most of the morning
pouting about how none of her shoes matched her pants, she came up with
a logical solution to her dilema.  If she had no shoes then mom
would have to buy her new shoes.   The problem  with
this plan was execution and timing.  While using moms sewing
sissors to cut up her shoes, she was discovered by me.   I
confiscated the weapon and shoes, put her on her bed.  Thankfully
parental guidance arrived to take over, and I left shaking my
head. 
Poor girl, she failed to cut up one ugly pair of old tennis shoes. 

November 10, 2004

November 10, 2004

I need to write a blog entry about this incredibly… something
weekend.  I would say it was a wonderful weekend and that all I
had was fun, but I was asked too many times by the people who know me
best if I was ok.  Sometimes I think they know me better than I
know myself, because I really had no clue I was in a bad mood until
they mentioned it.

(beware of tangent)…
 You know when you’re feeling really blue, and you don’t want to
be around people, and when you are around them you have to work
yourself into this smiling, happy person, but it doesn’t really work?
The smile never makes it to your eyes, and everybody knows your eyes
are a dead give away. But at least you tell yourself that the reason
you’re standing on the fringe of things watching other people talk and
have a good time is because of the dead-give away-eyes.  It surely
can’t be your lack of social or conversation skills, or maybe it is your lack of conversational skills.  However, the only good thing about your inability to hang out with people you don’t
know is the knowledge that there are people who you feel perfectly
comfortable being grumpy around.  And in the end I’m supremely
grateful I have friends like that.  
…But in case you think I didn’t have a good time…  I had a great time, but that will have to be in The Crazy Weekend Part Two.

October 25, 2004

October 25, 2004

It amazes me how I can turn something perfectly normal and functioning
into something neurotic and confusing.  Instead of feeling pleased
with myself because I’m breaking records by writing two blog entries in
a week, I’m feeling guilty because I should be doing something
else.  However,  when I finish this I’ll feel like I
accomplished something, which will in turn motivate me to do what I
should have been doing in the first place, thus taking away the guilt
I’m feeling right now.  But what good does it do me to take away
the guilt I am feeling now, after I am already done feeling it?
   Instead of writing this entry I should be…
1. Filling out my absentee ballot. (which I don’t want to do, seeing as I have no clue what to vote for)
2.  Returning a call to a customer I don’t want to talk to. (kudos
to all you people who talk to strangers everyday and survive)
3.  Trying to fix the possessed fuse in my car.  (it is really
too cold outside to even consider it) (I don’t know how my husband does
it, must be that Ohio blood)
4.  Mailing the birthday present to my cousin whose birthday I
forgot yesterday ( my brain betrayed me, I reminded myself on Sat. to
call him on Sun.)
5.  Talking myself into going to the meeting tonight.  (do I
really need to go to a business meeting where there’s silly disco music
playing while women wearing bright red lipstick and painted smiles walk
around applauding and laughing like…like.. like Kelly Bishop from Gilmore Girls ?)
6.  Finishing my homework for bible study. (I don’t want to go. I
don’t like it, and then I get there and have a great time and wonder
why I didn’t want to go in the first place)
After all that (which I realize isn’t that much) I’ll let myself do
something fun, like making chocolate chip cookies with my littlest
blonde haired sister.  ….Ok, now I’m motivated.

October 22, 2004

October 22, 2004

A week goes by and I haven’t written in my blog, I tell myself  it’s not a big deal, journals have no rules about how often you have to write in them, you can just do it tomorrow.  Tomorrow comes and goes, a week, two weeks.  Now I know I
have to write a blog entry, there’s no getting around it, but it has to
be a really good one to make up for the lack of mediocre ones.
Something particularly brilliant, funny or thought provoking.  The
problem is I can’t think of anything remotely good, not even one
worthless unimportant thought worth mentioning.  I  realize
how boring my life really is (happy…very happy, but boring
nonetheless), how crazy it was to start a blog in the first place, and
decide to just forget about the whole xanga thing. 
    After a very freeing month of not feeling guilty,
I’m pretty much assured nobody even comes near my blog, which makes it
available for all the comforting mediocrity in the world.  It’s
the very long road (or perhaps it’s a circle, I’m not sure) of
convincing yourself nobody reads it, and not quite as effective as just
setting it up to be private in the first place.  All very
predictable behavior for a certain curly haired little girl who is
absolutely obsessed about what people think about, which is a rather
honest confession for her,  even if her blog is people-free.
However seeing as lots of people confess it (in fact it’s almost a
cliche) nobody will realize how terribly true it is. 
     Now, back to the first person. 
Speaking of which, I couldn’t decide whether  to write in the
first second or third person, or perhaps no person at all. 
But that’s of no consequence, because I had fun writing it.  In
fact so much fun,  I’ll probably write again next week.