Hot Tea on a Tuesday Afternoon

I've got no less than 4 blog entries sitting in Drafts currently and am somehow unable to finish even one of them.

This is not like me.

The Deathwish Plague (so-called because nearly everyone I know has contracted it from someone else present at the January Deathwish) that has been threatening to hit since Friday began to arrive in earnest during coffee yesterday afternoon with TC. I am unsurprised and it was worth it. I'm still functioning clearly. But sore throats and coughs are annoying. So is weeping uncontrollably for no reason. Apparently, I've got that symptom too.

Ugh. Really.

from a Charlie Sheen meme

Peej, just today, wrote about EXPECTATIONS. Those tricky little bastards. Coincidentally, I've been thinking a lot about them. And you all remember what I think about expectations...right? (Wow! I write a lot of blog entries about expectations. And reading through these, I like what I see.) So when someone tells me it's OK to have a few expectations, make a few assumptions, I have to say, "Thank you but no, really. Because no."

It's no slight. It's not mis-trust. It's not about the other person at all. Managing my expectations is about me and about knowing human nature and about knowing that, at any given moment, everything could change on a dime and become a swirling hurricane of chaos that renders said expectations null and void. I'd rather just enjoy each moment for what it is. So when that swirling hurricane of chaos sweeps us all out to sea, I can still smile and say, "I'm glad that happened."

So there's that.

Remember when liquor stores would deliver?

Me neither. But allegedly it used to happen.

I scribbled the following down in the middle of the night having awakened suddenly from an intensely vivid dream: "It's just like a virgin looking for the g spot. First he's got to find the right hole."

I have no context for it. I remember nothing more. But I think there's going to be one hell of a story surrounding it...once I'm ready to think about it.

I've got a poem on the tip of my tongue...not one I've written (I know, *whew*, right?) but one I can't quite remember. Something I've read, something I've been reminded of but cannot quite recall.

Instead, you're going to get this:

What is commonest, cheapest, nearest, easiest, is Me,
Me going in for my chances, spending for vast returns,
Adorning myself to bestow myself on the first that will take me,
Not asking the sky to come down to my good will,
Scattering it freely forever.

I am of old and young, of the foolish as much as the wise,
Regardless of others, ever regardful of others,
Maternal as well as paternal, a child as well as a man,
Stuff'd with the stuff that is coarse and stuff'd with the stuff
that is fine -Walt Whitman from Song of Myself

I need more tea and comfort. Where's that cat?

Restoration of Faith

I feel as though I've been complaining a lot about humanity - or the lack thereof - here lately.

For those of you who only know me through my blog, I'd like to extend an apology to you. Because, if you were to know me in person, you'd know I am kinda sparkly...like glitter.

The fact is I love nearly everyone...despite some people's attempts to convince me to do otherwise. I suppose I just have a strong sense of what I believe justice and compassion are and am often disappointed by people...I sometimes even disappoint myself.

Love the person, Jane. Not the potential. *zen arrow finds its mark*

Clearly, my expectations are set way too high. And what do I say about expectations? They are pre-determined resentments. I know better.

And yet...

There are times when my greatest expectations of people - people I don't even know - go so far above and beyond anything I can imagine, I weep for joy and gratitude.

This morning, I find myself weeping over this article from The Denver Post:

Music-lover Jeff Quinlan leaves millions to Swallow Hill

For those of you who don't know, Swallow Hill is a non-profit organization in Denver "dedicated to preserving and fostering folk and traditional music from around the world".

I took singing lessons there last fall/winter. It's currently housed in this funky old, dilapidated building - another Grotto really - with twisty corridors and uneven floors. And it's one of the awesomest places in Denver for that reason. It's what you might expect from an organization dedicated to folklore and folk music.

I am so happy for them! This gift - a multi-million dollar legacy - will ensure the continuation of music education in this region and will benefit thousands of people in my community.

And, while I'm sorry for the death of Jeff Quinlan, I am also grateful to him for his generosity, his passion for music, and for his dedication to his community.

And I'm grateful to him this morning for restoring my faith in humankind to its normal levels.

Bathed in tears, I sparkle. Like glitter.


A year ago: You Can Fool Some People Some of the Time

*Caution* Object in Mirror Has Better Aim Than Would Appear

I woke up angry this morning.

Not annoyed. Not prickly. Not frustrated.

Angry.

As in GRRRRRRR!!!!

It did not help that the song stuck in my head was Nine Inch Nails' Hurt. I mean, what kind of emo crap is that?! I don't even like that song. Unless, of course, it's Kermit's version and then, well, that rocks. I have all sorts of respect for Trent Reznor as a musician but please! Dude! Lighten up just a little bit. Your tormented soul is a major bummer. And now it's bumming me out. Just. Stop. It.



Oh wait. I guess I wasn't talking about Trent Reznor, was I?

Yeah, so, anyway. Angry.

Now, if you know me in real life, you know how this is completely unlike me. I freely admit I can be a bit of a Mary Jane Sunshine and typically bounce out of bed. Well...OK "bounce" may be an exaggeration. Stagger clumsily is much more like it but, most often, I'm only staggering because the sleep is still in my eyes and the puddles of drool I'm creating over the thought of my morning coffee provide a slickery and perilous walking surface for those of us who are A) not quite awake yet and B) accident prone just generally.

So to wake up this...this...this MAD for absolutely no reason! Is just not right.

And you know what also doesn't help? Taking a blogthings quiz - because that's what some of us do when we just want to zone out for a minute - whose results tell you you're in Stage 1 of Development and go on to tell you to stop being such an emotional child.

Fuck you, blogthings quiz. You were probably written by a 13-year-old girl. What do you even know about development beyond your own breasts?

And another thing. The sun. Yes, that's right. You heard me. The sun. Here it is, November 4, the birds are singing, it's 65°-ish, and the sun is shining so bright, I've gotta wear shades...in my office. Because the sun is beating right down on my head and glaring against my monitor.

And another thing? Why do people who hate us...people we've gotten FIRED 6 years ago...want to then friend us on Facebook? Why? I still do not like you, Obnoxious Deceitful Lady! I had to listen to you yap and yap about your bankruptcies, your stupid children, and your failed marriages for 3 1/2 years. I give thanks every day for your fraudulent worker's comp claim and inability to keep your yap shut to this day. Why on Earth would I want anything to do with you now? Isn't it bad enough that, through a strange (perhaps karmic) coincidence, you happen to now work in the building my office window faces? Isn't it bad enough I still have to watch you waddle across the parking lot every day? Go away. Leave me alone.

And while we're speaking of leaving me alone...naw. Never mind. I'll regret saying it here later.

I hate this feeling. Feeling like I put on someone else's skin during the night - skin that doesn't fit right, that bunches, gapes, hangs in all the wrong places, and is quite possibly made of 100% cheap wool.

I need a nap...and some wine...and a bath. Then maybe I'll be ready to go joy hunting.

Until then, be very very quiet.

 

A year ago: Snippet
                  Dangling Carrot
                  Jane's News in Brief

So You Go & You Stand On Your Own

I'm supposed to be working.

I have a shitpile of fixed assets to retire before I can move forward with everything else on my audit to do list.

Instead, I'm attempting to get caught up on my blog roll. Because seriously? 299 unread posts?

I guess that's what happens when you virtually follow a bunch of writers around. They actually write stuff that then needs to be read. And the more days that pass during which I don't have time to read, the more entries get posted and the further behind I feel.

I had a quiet mini weep fest at the goth club last night.

It sounds so cliche...right out of a Smiths song, doesn't it?

Alas, that would be me Morrissey must have been singing about...and not in a good way.

When I'm tired - and I suppose this is likely true for nearly everyone - I lose all my ability to filter. Add gin to that equation and, well, I suspect (read remember) myself of saying and doing things last night that appall me today.

Amends will likely have to be made.

I hope everyone really likes cake.

Random and Memorable Moment

On my first full day in Seattle, Jenni took me down to Pike Place so that I could absorb the ultimate in Seattle tourist offerings. It was good.

After walking for what felt like miles, we got back to the car and I opted to stay at it while Jenni went to fetch the rolled hanks of luxury yarn we'd purchased earlier in the day.

While I was there, a man of the street approached me, and since I wasn't engaged in anything particularly noteworthy, he and I struck up a conversation. He asked me for change for a dollar and while I was digging out 4 shiny quarters from the depths of my little handbag (there were definite depths), we talked about gum, gum ball machines, and laughed about nieces and nephews and his 8 grandchildren.

It was a nice visit.

He didn't stick around very long before he turned and meandered up the street talking to himself. I went back to leaning on the car and losing myself in thoughts.

Pretty soon though, he came back in my direction still muttering to himself. As he passed me by once more, he said to me,

"You. You are VERY special to someone."

And then continued to walk away until I couldn't see him anymore.

And I started to cry.