I Hate it When I Can't Sleep

2:42 am
I'm so screwed.

Owie

I'm watching The Impressionists, episode two. i don't recommend it to anyone with less than an obsessive interest in art. It's highly biographical as well as historical. Dramatic effect is minimal, though the story telling is still "good" if you like the silly little benchmarks of the impressionist movement along the way. There are no plot lines to untangle, no resolutions to look towards. It's just the retelling of a time line that is relatively well-known.

Movies like these remind me that I've seen many other movies - movies that have no intention of reflecting on art - that at some point or other surprise me and pull me out of story mode and show me an iconic pose or position.

I was about to go into a whole lecture and side by side comparison of movie scenes with famous paintings, and I ran out of steam. I'm tired of thinking and want to just lean back and watch the movie.

The "owie" was a reference to the fact that I just ate an unacceptably unhealthy amount of salted pumpkin seeds and my lips and tongue now hurt, and I countered the salt with half a liter of blueberry juice which was too sweet, and now my system is really freaked out and going, "WTF was that all about?! How about some recognizable food, you freak of nature?" Or something to that effect. But it's past ten now and I'm even less energetic than I was around dinnertime when the cooking of some kind of meal would have been appropriate. Now the thought of even turning over in bed has me grumbling with inner complaints. There should be people one can hire to turn you over and prop up your pillows. That's what I think.

Anyway, I'm going to end here because lying on my stomach with my top torso supported by my elbows and my forearms flexed for typing on my laptop is only enchanting for so long and is quickly losing its appeal.

Puppy Sigh of Relief

Here's how this played out:

Wednesday, June 23
Coco's in the hospital, staying overnight. We're hoping the rib bones pass with no further damage, but there is a small possibility of pancreatic issues, otherwise. Poor, sweet, little guy... he just looks miserable.

Thursday, June 24
6:00PM
Surgery either tonight or tomorrow morning. Seems the little trouble maker may have ingested a foreign object, like a cloth of some kind. He's not eating and what little he's been force fed has been upchucked with no bowel movement to speak of. Something's blocking the whole system.

I'm worried. Not so much about the surgery. I have this feeling that they'll get whatever it is out and he should be fine. But we've talked as a family and if there are any further complications, we are pretty much opting for euthanasia. The fact is he's an old little guy and at this point, with chronic arthritis, seizures, and thyroid issues, prolonging his life doesn't mean it would be of acceptable quality.

What worries me isn't the choice itself. I've been mentally preparing for this for some time. What worries me is that I know this is going to be left for me to do. This is how we function. I'm the zoo warden around here. My parents leave these things to me. I'm the one that's made hospital visits to him in the time he's been interned and I'm the one doing all the consulting and such. In the end, I know that I'm the one that will be with him, whatever the road brings. It's not the first time, as you can imagine. With a constant zoo, pet loss comes with the territory. But except for one occasion, all pet deaths have been natural. Only one cat was put to sleep due to leukemia.

To say I'm not looking forward is, of course, an understatement. But a thousand times over, I'd rather be with him than not have that opportunity and forewarning.

It's seems impossible that 2010 could be worse than 2009, but it's really panning out that way.

7:30 PM
Just now got off the phone with the surgeon and the surgery went well. Corn cob. Yep. The bugger swallowed a corn cob whole and the thing was pretty much serving as a plug. It's out now, Coco's sewn back up and will be fed sometime tomorrow evening. Likely to be back home on Saturday, God willing.

Big sigh of relief around here. =)

Friday, June 25
I just finished visiting with Coco who is doing splendidly. His recovery is going well and the Doctor asked me to take him out for a walk to the grass area so that they could get him up and moving again due to his age and arthritis. The last thing we need is for him to get stiff and rickety from all the laying around.

We've been told he'll likely come home tomorrow and I'm really glad to hear it. I can't wait to have him back in the yard, sleeping in his bed and surrounded by his family. Meanwhile, I'd love to get him this shirt.

Adorkable

I'm sitting here quietly minding my own business.
Fruit fly comes and lands on the tip of my nose.
I whack myself on the face.

Rapunzel, Swept Away

I don't think I mentioned that I cut my hair yesterday. Well, actually, I didn't cut it. I went to a place where you pay a person and she does it for you. A trained person. Presumably. I mean I've not requested any kind of documentation beyond that little license that hangs at her station wall, but I trust her. She's done a competent job in the past.

Anyway, it's short now.

Words Are Tools... and Toys

You already know this. You know this about me. I've made no effort to, in any way, negate my elitist ways. I am a snob. That I'm able to get along with a wide variety of people who don't always fall into my excruciatingly narrow window of judgment, is just evidence that my heart is in a good place and I understand that my demands are largely unrealistic.

But sooner or later a girl just wants intelligent conversation, no? Some simple wit and eloquence would be much welcomed.

Where do grown ups go to make new friends? The idea of on-line anything makes me want to barf and roll my eyes. I believe in the traditional form of friend-making. Face to face conversations and sharing of time and space which develops over time into disclosures of similarities and shared interests. The kind of time investment needed to allow this natural process to happen was a given in the first half of the life experience. Classrooms are breeding grounds for friendships. And each semester opened up a whole new pool of options to delve into.

Now, in adult-land, the workplace is the only place where we spend large amounts of time. And, having taken inventory of our limited cast of characters, I have depleted all options and placed everyone on "just co-workers whom I can get along with" shelves.

The situation is dire, indeed.

¡Si Se Pudo!

Lo malo es que estaba yo en la oficina, sin acceso a tele, radio y hasta al Internet. Lo bueno es que mi compañera del lado, sin temor alguno a las autoridades, se atrevió a poner el juego de México contra Francia en la pagina de Internet de no se quien, y por ese medio nos tenia a todos informados.

Por supuesto, en gran parte, los de la oficina no son latinos ni extranjeros de otras partes, y por lo mismo sin mucho interés al asunto. Pero en las líneas de producción, ¿Qué tal? Ahí, formados los paisanos, esperaban saber detalles de los acontecimientos.

El proceso fue de lo mas sencillo: La compañera “gritaba” en tonos bajos con cada gol, y las dos nos poníamos a hacer llamadas a los teléfonos de la planta baja. Por mi parte, al terminar el juego, había yo terminado un reporte para entregar al gerente de la planta baja, y solo bastó con un inocuo “¡Viva México!” en pluma roja, colocado en el margen de la primera hoja, para diseminar el animo del momento.

El resultado final: Mexico = 2, Francia = 0

It's a Living

I'm not a morning person in the least bit. I just don't get it. Why would anyone not want to prolong that warm softness of bed? But duty calls and for this particular assignment, I've been scheduled for a 7 to 4 shift and, well, it's killing me.

I could be romantic and say that it's all for the love of art. That I have some great impending opus that will catapult me into personal fulfillment followed by financial stability. But I'm no diamond in the rough. This is it. This is all there is. It's not so bad, if I do say so myself, but I'm saying that I can acknowledge there are no sudden revelations of genius in my future, and so, the reality is that I'll always have to revert to some practical form of employment, be it in varying degrees of enjoyment.

Still, just in case I do have that next great American novel in me, I can't help but feel warm and fuzzy that I'd be in good company. So many others have had to live in the real world like I do. So many others managed to work around their gray world. I really can appreciate their plight.

Intellectual Stimulation, Please

Yes, this is exactly how my brain works.

Hey, There, No Shoving

Mother Earth has shifted once again to find a more comfortable position. She was generous, only slightly rustling the area, with nothing more than some random barking from the resident canines, and a soft rolling to and fro, almost apologetically so.

'Twas a 5.9, but it felt softer. I would have rated it somewhere in the fours.

Oh, Happy Day!!!

Happiness abounds, I am joy incarnate, bliss is mine!

Mabel (my laptop*) came out of her coma at Fry's like some petulant child who will only respond to an authoritative doctor. I didn't even scold her, such was my euphoria at her strong recovery. Seems she just needed to be reset and is like new again. I even bought her a sleeve to wear when I tote her around in my book bag. And a flash drive. She's not putting me through this shit again.

::skips off to her happy place::

*To anyone who might be interested in the more superfluous details of my life (like that doesn't apply to everything in here...but I digress), yes, my laptop's name is Mabel. I name the more participatory objects in my life, such is my bond with them. For what it's worth, they pretty much tell me their name and I just accept it. Past cars have been Guinevere (license plate had GVR in it), Miep (she facilitated my access to the world), and Blue Boy (very nondescript and generally too anonymous to inspire much more than that). Laptops have only been two: Zelda (an HP of the ZE line), and currently Mabel (IBM backwards with two vowels inserted and the "I" becomes an "L"... work with me, people).

As much as I used to love Zelda, I have to admit, Mabel is a much better match for me. She's more compact and lighter. She's an older-model ThinkPad and not huge like those newer laptops. I also prefer her LED monitor to those new shiny ones. Dunno why, I guess the reflection on those new ones just bugs me. I suspect that when Mabel does meet her tragic end, I'll probably get another ThinkPad. It has lots of interesting features that even the newer models don't have right at your fingertips. It's really well designed. Me likey.

Ready to Rumble

I'd like to thank those of you who have continued to read and have responded either here or to my email about your thoughts. I've been neglectful, I know. But I'm going to try to return to the pattern of updating the Andrum's Conundrum question, the Thousand Words image, and the Wonder, Wit, and Wisdom quote every weekend.
For the time being, I have odds and ends that I have backed up and might try to spread out over some days so as to have a few new things every so often.

Today I'm in a good mood and seem to be inspired, so I can think of a zillion things that I want to post, but like I said, I'll try to spread them out. In the meantime, I'm going to do some writing for all that eventual posting, so stick around if you are interested in my inane ramblings. Those of you who are regular readers either here or in my emails know how senseless any of my tangents can be. So, you have been forewarned.

I don't think I need to elaborate...

*www.xkcd.com - Randall Munroe

Ass Backwards

As usual, though I resist bandwagons, I have been known to arrive at the same place as the mass audience, having taken the long way 'round.

I've decided I like Lady Gaga.

Hear me out.

Considering I come from the corner of the world that encourages originality, and considering that I am actually formally educated in the field of Art, on a down-to-the-core-of-it-all level, I'm a wallflower and thank others to be just as inconspicuous. I resist spotlight people. I know that. I think I'm uncomfortable for them. I think I tend to appropriate the embarrassment that I think they should be feeling.

As it turns out, it's that same non-conformity that I end up respecting. I admire people who are braver than me, who can come up with a new reality and not bat an eyelash at living it.

That she actually has talent just sealed the deal.

Here's the ass-backwards part: I'd been pretty much avoiding her since for the most part I'd concluded she was just another passing rage, working with shock value, etc. But then I saw that video of that kid on YouTube who sings Paparazzi and I liked the song. To be honest, I like his acoustic version better than her ultra-produced one, but I can see the composition at its core and like it. The fact that her techno-like genre is of no interest to me has kept her music out of my radar, but I can see its appeal now that I've been exposed to it.

And then there was the Glee episode. I mentioned a while ago that I don't get the pull about that show. It looks like it's targeted for a teen audience but the music is largely from the 80s and 90s, so in a strange way it's appealing to a larger audience. I'll be honest and admit to seeing a couple of episodes now, but I'll also add that I never really "watch" the episode. I'm usually on another task and only tune in at the songs. I like the nostalgia (again, I wonder what the draw is for the newer generation who largely thinks our music was silly) of it, so I get to hear songs I haven't heard in a long time. But if you asked me who the characters are or what the plot lines are, I'd be hard-pressed to identify any of it. The Lady Gaga episode, however, shone another spotlight on her music, and so I've come to gradually form a better opinion of her, though it's ironic that mostly I like other people's - more acoustic - versions of her songs.

Poker Face, in particular,pulled me in because the chorus is almost identical to a song in one of the Cirque du Soleil productions. I think it was Quidam, but I'm not sure. Either that or Saltimbanco. Anyway, I had the CDs back in the 90s and have since lost them, but if you're familiar with that music, it's very international, often in other languages and I even suspected some languages were completely fabricated. Anyway, Poker Face always reminds me of that song, specifically because I liked that part of the song in the Cirque CD.

Yep. Yet another painfully dissected look into my noggin.