a sensorial urn

OK, yeah, and I really do have to be offline. As in, responding even less than I have been, and posting not at all. _{Arrrrgghrrgh. *nnngh*} OK, uh. Maybe once a month?_{*glrrrrrggggglgghgh*}Um. Not before my birthday, at least? *sigh*

I'll check email. I don't know about IM. I don't know how long.

It's like trying to quit smoking. Or so I hear.

I miss you. Some people I care about I mostly only ever see online. I just need to adjust to being here, now.

Bleh.

Change is bad.

The mowing fairy did in fact visit, as scheduled. However, she found that the lawn was a bit wet, and instead did some work in the driveway and garden. She's thinking maybe now that it's fall in Seattle, the lawn will not get *less* wet and will very likely get more wet, so she may make a repeat visit this evening. Right now she's doing laundry.

I'm melancholy, at loose ends, and without my cell phone. How do I get soused with my buddies? How do I make a last-minute dash to the mountains? I do not. I go to work and post on LJ. I don't really want to do anything anyway. I just wish the day could last a lot longer, so I could wander around being melancholy and reading in the sun for many hours before accidentally finding everyone (everyone, from everywhere) at a nice lively (but unchaotic) boozer after the sun sets.

In an ideal world, I'd also find myself magically clothed in something besides ripped jeans and a wrinky tee shirt. And the tucking fairy would visit before midnight. And the mowing fairy would visit at nineish tomorrow.

I go sit in the park for a bit.

How annoyed would you be if you bought a consumable to be used in a specific way in the office kitchen, wrote on it that it was to be used in this specific way and in no other, and found that it was frequently being used in another way, messier and more resource-intensive, for which a (presumably less-appealing) product has already been provided for free? Presume that you use the item in the intended way, that you are one of two people who alternately go to the store to get it, and that you are reimbursed for the item (at least when you get around to getting reimbursement).

I am quite annoyed, but I think I may be getting overexcited.

Ho hum.

Looking for a part time job, 10-16 hours a week, that lets me have my full time day job and my Tue/Fri evening class. Anything, really. I can't lift 80lbs more than once in a while. Just, a job. That pays a little bit.

Don't suppose you know of one.

Near where I live.

So, yeah, if you want access to more than $60.00 at a time from your WaMu account, you might consider having your direct deposits start going into another bank.

Or so I hear. I haven't seen the lines myself.

Num: French vanilla ice cream. Tablespoon of a peaty single malt Scotch. Eat.

Hm. Found a recipe that suggests doing this with a mellower whiskey, plus black pepper. Sounds nice, but I like the peat. Keep in mind, however, that as a youth I ate orange peels, and vegemite off my finger.

69°F
Current:Clear
Wind: NW at 5 mph
Humidity: 49%

Thu
Clear
77°F | 52°F

Fri
Mostly Sunny
70°F | 52°F

Sat
Mostly Sunny
72°F | 52°F


Though "mostly sunny" seems to translate to "brightly lit clouds" around here.

I grudgingly admit that I am looking forward to hot cider season. Not the gloom, but the nip.

Woke up with upset tum every 45 minutes, until 4am. Stayed up til 5am. Ironed 2 shirts that turned out to have stains on them. Wore the 2nd one anyway. Ate a tomato for breakfast. Found another shirt. Couldn't find activity for tonight's class. Got to work late. The network was down for several hours. Broke a glass. Looked up to see it was 1pm, with 8-10 hours of work to do before 5pm. Posted about it.

Emotional Preparation class tonight (look it up if you want). Looking gleefully forward to being rode hard and put up wet. Muh.

Pupate is a word.

It's very nice outside.

Poll #1254033 Jersey cough
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All

Belgique

I am perhaps deluded in my faith that the natural sciences always make for good general conversation. I will cling to that belief, however. For one thing, any one field is so rarely what everyone at the table does for a living that no one is likely to be burdened all night with shop talk. Unless you're out with your lab partners or cubemates*, in which case you're probably getting drunk anyway.

Eub, try Persicaria maculosa.

YamiMc, I didn't mean to pish-tosh spore prints. I love making spore prints. I'm just feeling sad about not having a microscope, and feeling like I should start using one.

Zzyzx, I realize I might have yapped over any extension of a person's initial mention of halteres. What brought them up?


* or unless you're explaining the clever mechanics of gene cloning

no phone today. plz email lj name @beanwest dot com ifneed.

One of those movies that clings to me, regardless of its merits:

Time After Time with Malcolm McDowell, Mary Steenbergen, David Warner.

Were you even born when this came out? I was nine. As I seem to recall, it was pretty good. Even if I was nine. We should rent it.

Witch's milk!

That said, Tropic Thunder wasn't bad. I didn't bitch once during* the actual movie. In retrospect and in summary, it was about as funny as Spinal Tap and probably appealing to much the same audience. Add audience for big name actors and explosions.

One weepingly hilarious bit and a lot of heh heh heh, a fair number of items telegraphed a bit too far ahead, a few things uncomfortably omitted, and a few squirmy pieces that weren't clearly send-ups. Which is to say, it wasn't the comedy gem of the century, but it was worth watching. Warnings: gore. "Funny" gore, and limited, but probably not for the weak of stomach.


* Post-bitching inevitable.

Once again, as usual, female casting requirements as follows:

Need four: two legs and two breasts, white, 5'10", size 2. Age 21-29.
Need two: black, same as above, plus rump.
Also need two: small, aged female peasants, ethnic looks. Will play multiple roles.

In summary: Hollywood is a land of many sameness.

OK, seriously, isn't going out and eating meat because PETA's hypocrisy pisses you off sort of like going out and charging usurious interest rates because the Catholic church has a troubled ethical history? Isn't lascivious slurping of burgers in front of vegetarians (especially ethical-stance vegs) sort of like pulling out a wad of cash in front of a penitent and going "why take a vow of poverty? look how eeeaaaasy this is! look how much I *like* buying things and throwing them away"?

What is the source of the enjoyment? Is it anything but a spiteful desire to emphasize another person's flaws or discomfort by way of justifying or disguising your own?

More subjective and less reliable things:

• Elaborately particular concepts ( ... ) will be expressed one way or another.)

LJ: all about me since 2001.


Sniping proffered as helpful information is a value-added service, increasing penetration in some markets by as much as 50% since regular assessments began in late 2003.

It might be useful to know these things about me:

• If you lend me something, it may not be returned in a reasonable length of time without a reminder.

• Useful or beautiful items (e.g. electronics) given to me as gifts may see use and treatment to which you would not subject your own similar items.

• I tend to run 15-30 minutes later than I say I will.

It might be useful to know these things:

• Cervical cancer takes a long time to grow. (Last year month's one-night-stand probably didn't give you the bugs that caused it.) Get your paps smeared regularly.

Some nights more than others I am aware that I, yes, even I, will die. Dead. Gone. Totally, really dead. Not existing as any version of me. Past the point of having ceased all my mental and bodily functions. More terrifyingly: my sister, father, and mother will die. The root of my self. Are we close? Are we loving? What are close and loving in this light? Who *am* I when the people who knew me when I was barely even me -- when I had a two-foot-tall perspective and used a booster seat (oh, I miss my booster seat, and the sugar-frosted flakes that we only ever got to eat in roadside Denny'ses on cross-country trips, sitting in the Denny's plastic booster seats) -- are gone? (What will the world be shown to be, when the laws of physics change?)

That this will happen at all, in finite, conceivable time, means that it will happen too soon. Really rather unnervingly too soon.

Some people I know feel that sleep, for this reason, is a terrible waste of finite moments.

It isn't.

Sleep is time alive. Do it as well as you can.

Do not lie awake, afraid. Do not pad about the house, enangst. Do not call your loved ones at odd hours to apologize for all the wrongs they may feel you've done. Do not make grinding and welding noises in the garage, your eyeballs wobbly with fatigue, because you cannot lose a second of your ("productive") waking life.

Sleep, simply, that others may sleep.

Thick creamy spicy black BEANS. From a can. Glop of hot red salsa, dab of mayo (there was no other acceptable sharp-flavored "dairy" in the fridge), splash of tequila, heat them hot. Is that so bad? Not at all. Not at all.

I did used to cook. Really.

But I can live with cuisine a la Single Working Mother.

Mother of Mice. Took Tubey in to be shot up with ivermectin for mites ugh mites. He's pretty spry and cheerful still, for a mouse so old. Darn expensive, too. But you can't really leave them suffering in their skin, and you can't really go and "put them out of their misery" if *really* out of their misery, because it's a simple misery, would just cost you a day's pay. And so. Vermin.

Two days ago it was too hot to sleep. Tonight I crave stewy food. I want my summer back. Though the rain and rain followed by a few hot days seems to agree right well with the blackberries.

When you tell me about your weekend, your pluses and minuses, I really prefer to read a little story, rather than a bullet list.

( My bullet list, show you it. )



And:

+ - Back in acting class. Moved to intermediate work.


AND:

- - - - Aaaaaaaaaugh GIANT FREAKING LONG-LEGGETY SPIDER RUNNING ACROSS MY UPSTAIRS BEDROOM FLOOR aaaaaaauuuuugh.

+? Owait, I like spiders. Just not so much spiders that can outrun me.

Since it's the last weekend, I think I'll try not to miss the GreenStage Twelfth Night at Magnuson Seward Park amphitheater tomorrow at 3pm.

It'll be interesting to see how everyone deals with the heat. Wanna come?

If I put some stuff out on the lawn for sale Saturday and/or Sunday for a while, would you want to put some stuff there? If so, label it with price and three initials that identify you. Scotch tape works pretty well for this, masking tape for clothes. Email me for time and place. I'll know by tomorrow night, but may not answer 'til Friday.

Remainder to Goodwill. But please don't dump a lot of big trash that you know I'll have to haul. I'm not putting a huge amount of effort into this.

I guess I *did* see some spectacular meteors last night while driving home. I thought I might just be having light reflections. Weird ones, but possible.

I do love me some falling stars.

WTF is up with the bitchy? Tired of trying to balance the inflow and outflow of upfucking chemicals and attitudes. At least I'm not completely bonkers. I am all sweaty, though. Kind of a light sprink, rather than a downpour. Speaking of which, where is my summer?

Going to DC in October! Columbus Day weekend.

Um. Some other stuff. I don't even remember the plot of my own story, most days. Deep into reruns.

As I walked out one morning for pleasure,
I met a cowpuncher a-jogging along;
His hat was throwed back and his spurs was a-jingling,
And as he advanced he was singing this song:

Yippee Ti Yi Yo, get along little dogies
It's your misfortune and none of my own
Yippee Ti Yi Yo get along little dogies
For you know that Wyoming will soon be your home.

Worth the hassle? I don't mean her, I mean her there then.

I hear echoes of rumors that my acting class will be no more.

Apparently I have feelings about this.

I don't know any more than that, yet.