exhaust

I am tired almost to distraction. Yesterday, I picked my sister up at the airport and drove her to our parents' house for Easter. Today, I drove back, after a day trip to Duluth with said sibling and parents. I arrived home only a few minutes ago, and I would very much like to crawl into bed, if not for the whining voice from my stomach complaining that it has not been fed since noon. So, now to find some acceptable nourishment and crawl into bed. There will be more of a story later, I think... once my brain is functioning at capacity again.

brains

I'm a bit of a Penn & Teller fan (the magic part, anyway... I have certain qualms with their religious/political/ethical views, but not so bad as you'd notice).

One thing that people may also know or at least suspect about me is that I'm not big on zombie movies, and therefore I don't go see things like Dawn of the Dead or 28 Days Later or whatnot.

That said, this video kicks ass.



If I've got my story straight, this was produced for a video contest based off George Romero's Diary of the Dead. And yes, that's actually Teller talking. A little bit of background info is available from iTricks.com.

foodie

A recipe (because I know Sharon likes them):

Mediterranean Pasta

6 cloves garlic, minced (about 2 TBSP)
1/2 cup minced onion
1/2 cup chopped bell pepper
1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes, drained
1/4 cup pitted chopped kalamata olives
3 cups cooked ziti pasta
Crumbled feta cheese (for serving)

Seasonings (all to taste):
Basil
Red pepper flakes
Salt
Fresh-ground black pepper


Saute garlic, onion, and bell pepper in olive oil until soft. Add the diced tomatoes and olives. Season with dried basil, dried red pepper flakes, a pinch or two of salt, and fresh ground black pepper, all to taste. Heat it all through and toss with about three cups of cooked ziti-type pasta. Sprinkle with some crumbled feta and serve. Mmm, nummy. :)

Notes: Fresh herbs are always better, of course. Fresh basil, thyme, sage, etc, would be a nice addition to this. I was just working with what I had on hand, plus the olives and feta that I picked up on a whim while I was out today.

air

For the first time since I moved in here, I have the window open. Even though I'm technically in the city, the air smells good, like melting snow. I've missed having fresh air--everywhere else I've lived, even in the winter, I've kept the windows open. There's something in me that thrives on fresh air, no matter the temperature. That and the ambient noise--flowing water, far-off traffic sounds, the wind, birds when it gets warmer out. Sounds like that comfort me, remind me that the world is still alive and not just confined to the tiny space where I live.

I have been exhausted for two straight days, which means that I should go to bed very soon, and maybe wake up tomorrow feeling like a human being. The other option is nearly falling asleep at my desk tomorrow.

One last thought: I need to find someplace where I can walk around here. There's a trail up behind the apartment complex, but I need to figure out where it starts. The other option is, I suppose, stopping by Como Park on my way home at night. That's a nice place, with a free zoo and conservatory. And spring is nearly here, which makes it a real possibility. Ah, how I miss the lake...

ponder

Things on my mind tonight:

1) I desperately want to be a successful writer, and now that I've got a few of the kinks worked out of my system, I think I can really work towards that. Good to have a day job, though.

2) I really am completely uncultured in the sense of alternative entertainment and travel. I grew up watching sitcoms and listening to country music. This disappoints my friends to no end, probably because I don't seem much like the type of person to watch/listen to such things. Recently, two of my friends told me that I seem like the sort of person who should be really into British comedies. This is probably true, as all things British seem to appeal to me (books, movies, TV, etc.) My coworkers are also appalled that I've never been out of the country (no, not even to Canada. Or Mexico.) and therefore I really need to make plans to go... somewhere. Britain is a natural choice. Or Ireland. Or Italy. At least Canada (I mean, we're so close already....)

3) You know the "Six Degrees of Separation" thing? Well, I like to do that in my head, to figure out how close I am to the famous types that I admire. Turns out, I'm closer than I thought to at least one of them. Yay me!

4) I should have been in bed an hour ago.

tenses

A writing question for those literary folk out there:

I frequently find myself writing in the present tense when writing fiction. As in, "She walks up the stairs and turns left" instead of "She walked up the stairs and turned left." I see very few published works with this sort of tense structure. My questions are 1) Why? and 2) Does anyone else do this? It seems to come more naturally for me than writing in past tense, and yet, when I'm done with a piece, I usually go back and switch it into past tense simply because that's what I'm so used to reading. Is there an official ruling on this from the Writing Illuminati or whatever? I seem to remember hearing that writing like this is A Bad Thing and The Sign of an Amateur, but... well... I like it.

(Note: capitals denote an official tone, from someone who apparently matters.)

Not that I think I'll change how I write because of an answer one way or another. Just curious.

writer

Frustrating day today, at work and after. But I picked up Fragile Things this evening (bought it new, because I decided I deserved a treat). Still loving Neil Gaiman. I've been sort of skipping around in this book, reading the poetry first--"Instructions" and "Inventing Aladdin" are amazing. Also read the Tarot card stories, and I think before bed I'll read at least one more short piece. It's an entirely pleasant way to spend an evening.

This weekend, I need to clean the apartment. It's a mess, mostly because I was gone last weekend and the weekends are the only time when I really can work up the drive to clean. Mostly when I come home, all I want to do is spend the last few hours of the day having dinner, goofing off, and sleeping.

Also, I have decided that I wish to become my own boss. I want to write for a living. I need to figure out a way to make that happen. Hopefully by writing. :-p This may have to do with the stress levels of the day. Perhaps next week, I will want to be a full-time piano tuner. It is ridiculous that I am still so flighty even at this age. Still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. Hopefully someone interesting. That's kind of my guiding rule in life: "Be ye not boring." I consistently fail to follow this rule. I will try to do better.

unwound

I think that cold I had a couple weeks ago, which turned into a nagging cough, has finally edged it's way towards bronchitis. In other words, I've got the sort of cough that leads folks to wonder whether I'm hiding a dog with laryngitis somewhere in my apartment. It's highly annoying, not to mention painful for my head and the bad bits of my right shoulder (pinched nerve, very ouch-y when violently shaken or tensed against said violent shaking). I cough when I speak, laugh, breathe, etc. Miserable, I tell you.

In other news... well, there's not much other news. I've been reading a lot, watching YouTube videos, sketching (poorly), writing a bit, and (oh thank God) sleeping more. I'm one of those who can't sleep when I'm ill, usually because if it involves my sinuses, things get all stuffy and I can't really breathe properly. That's led to a couple interesting drowning/suffocation dreams and many, many sleepless nights. And then there's the whole fact that I kind of hate sleeping, or really, I hate having to put down whatever I get started doing at night and go to bed. Once I'm actually in bed, it's rather nice. This all adds up to me suffering from a fairly constant sleep deficit.

So when I actually manage to force myself to get a full night's sleep, it always amazes me how good I feel the next morning. It's lovely, like fresh air and birdsong and, I dunno, sunshine, clean linens, all those things rolled up into one. You'd thing that the feeling alone would be enough to convince me to put down my book or pen or whatever and go to sleep, but no. Words and images and ideas are altogether too addicting.

In any case, I've been trying to set more reasonable bedtimes for myself lately. Midnight is my usual goal, and it seems to be mostly attainable, provided I'm home and into my "winding down" phase by about 11 p.m. Good time to catch up on my last bit of blogs and news and whatever, write a post of my own, listen to the radio a bit, whatever. Relax. And then sleep, which is where I shall head now.

obsess

A short list of my current and recent obsessions:

• Leonard Cohen (poetry and music)
  
• Neil Gaiman (books)
  
• Rufus Wainwright (music)
  
• Les Miserables (music, book, wishing for a performance in Minnesota)
  
• Blogging (a recurring obsession, I must admit)
  
• MPR's The Current (89.3 Twin Cities)
  
• House, M.D.
  

love

I found a poem today on Neil Gaiman's blog that made me cry. The original post can be found here. It's called "Sonnet", and the last two lines blow me away.

(Edit: Poem redacted, due to the realization that hey, that was a bad idea to post something without permission. And no, no one told me I had to. Chalk it up to the aforementioned sleep deficit. Click the link, folks.)

travel

Sleep will come soon, but first an update. I spent the past week bogged with the pressures of life that plague every adult. Bills, groceries, work, personal relationships... everything that needed to be dealt with. So my apologies for the radio silence. I believe I have sufficiently dealt with things for a little while, so on to other topics.

Over this weekend I decided to make a trip to points north, specifically Grand Rapids and Bemidji. The time was well-spent, and I had the chance to speak with some of the people that I have been wishing to see for a while (though certainly not all, as I was in Bemidji for less than 24 hours and had to spend at least a bit of that time asleep). But while there I managed to procure some good Mexican food, some Guinness, and (in Grand Rapids) two new-used books from a little shop where the man who runs it remembers every customer that comes through his doors.

I don't believe I can come up with any sort of coherent analysis or insight into this little trip in my sleepy state, and therefore I shall continue this train of thought later. Sweet dreams, my friends.