a secret magic past world

September 29, 2015

There is a part of me that really dislikes success.

I know we are all raised to fear failure and what-not, but I have never been over averse to it; with failure, you have a place to start again once you’ve picked the old self up and brushed it off.

Success leaves a vacuum. Success leaves a gaping hole where purpose used to be. Success means you have to think of something new to do, just when your brain was getting the hang of that last thing. Success is a pain in the damn ass, especially in a world where it is not recognized with stickers of any shape or metallic quality, or candy of any kind. Success is such sweet sorrow.

I know I sound like a total Eeyore (also possibly like I am disguising boastfulness under a mantle of gloom) but I have never been good at holding onto a sense of purpose. Work goals have always been a nice way of ballasting myself through the overall pointlessness of life, and any chapter’s end is always accompanied by a heavy increase in nihilism. Add to this the fact that I am no longer pursuing any school goals of any kind, other than to pass a yoga 101 class, and you basically have me drifting in the doldrums, wondering what I’m supposed to be doing with this, my one existence.

It’s obnoxious that the only answers are ‘find something new to do’ or ‘distract yourself.’ It’s just never going to be that kind of life where the stuff to do rolls up on a silver platter and then you hero all over that shit. At this point it appears that I am never going to be over that. No wonder we as a species are so great at doing what we’re told; we’re built to crave external direction and prompting, just like we’re built to crave freedom of action and independence of thought. What ridiculous exercises in contradiction we all are. What a lovely and devilish thing it is to be a human.

squash blossom

I am


It’s marvelous, this.

One of the best single lines ever delivered in a film for context and solemnity.

Oh jeez. I am blogging this live here as it were (notice the accent already creeping in) and I forgot how real this shit gets. And how funny, and unexpectedly joyously uplifting. Hooray the grubby glorious little human spirit.

No wonder I love this song! It’s in both Fern Gully AND The Full Monty. But damned if I know what it is.

Musings brought to you today by my unfailing need to discuss the darling geniuses of my favorite movies.

I am

on a roll

September 24, 2015

How I feel when I get into work today and find out that SEVENTEEN new people completed a community service opportunity in the dozen or so hours since I last worked.

I am


September 22, 2015

I just came home and said to my cat ‘why yes, thank you, my first yoga class was lovely.’

My cat and I are way more polite to each other when I talk for both of us. Also we are apparently a couple of little old British ladies. Nobody is surprised.

I am 

for dessert

September 19, 2015

One year, three months and some days ago, Jason and I got married. This was if I say so myself the best decision either of us has made so far and our wedding was nearly nothing short of perfect. I say nearly, because in all honesty everything was so marvelous and we were having such a great time that we forgot to do a very important thing: smoosh cake in each other’s faces.

I am happy to report that I saved the cake and stuffed it into the freezer, where it has been crowding my icebox ever since, and yesterday I bundled it into a hatbox and we drove it out to the Grand Lodge; and there, by moonlight, behind the garden and right next to the chicken coop, we finally smooshed it.

Just so everybody knows my husband will not wait for you while you say ‘one two three go,’ and because of this I am still q-tipping buttercream out of my left ear canal.

Love. It’s what’s

subdued hoppiness

September 16, 2015

So I’m in this restroom and it’s fairly fancy but in what new people consider to be ‘Portland’ style, and I’m looking at all this sweet wood paneling; and I’m seeing the PIXELS of this wood paneling, this fake wood paneling, and I think, fine.

But really, in a bathroom, in a world where we haven’t yet figured out a better textile for toilet paper?

Trees are being poorly allocated.

I have spoke.

I am