Here lately I have been having a very tough time writing. Some days it is easy, these last few days it hasn't been. I'm struggling with the next writing assignment, the words just aren't seeming to come out right. Should I blame it on the weather? Could it be because I've had a slight temperature lately? I'm not sure, but it is very frustrating, especially since there are deadlines. Even a pretty new journal with a bird etched on the cover, and walks around the block hasn't helped shatter the glass house I feel I've been living in. I'm foggy minded and heavy headed; this time of year is normally like Spring to me, fall is when I am supposed to feel my most alive. So this is my next attempt, to write about my discouragement in hopes that it will somehow blow the top off this house of a thousand corpses.
I've been spending way to much money shopping for inspiration. And by that I mean, getting a manicure and pedicure, spending $50 worth of Snuggies for my dog, and then turning around and spending another $50 at Pet World so that he could have some Halloween toys to play with.
So I sit here at the computer antsy, determined not to run my bank account dry; I cross my legs , and then I uncross my legs. Nothing feels comfortable, not even with my Snuggie in my lap. Maybe I'm just itching to be outside, but when I go outside feelings of guilt flourish because I'm not in front of the computer logged on to lsus.edu. Maybe I ought to try something completely out of the ordinary...hmmm... oh shucks! I'm too foggy headed to even think of anything!
What do people in very high positions do when they go dumb for a few days? Like the President. Does he have days like this? Is he just extremely clever at covering them up? Is the pressure alleviated because he has other people writing his speeches for him? I like the idea of having a stand-end, someone akin to a stunt double, maybe I'll just settle for an identical twin. Either way, I could stay in bed until I felt fit enough to crawl out, when my mind is more astute and doesn't feel like a run away train. Since that probably won't happen, I guess the best way to deal with my fickle fancy is to buckle in, accept my frantic self, and humor it by singing a soothing lullaby... "I'm going off the rails of a crazy train... doodododo."
Ahhhh music, now there is my sweet inspiration!
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
I'll Fly Away
My husband and I moved into our house back in May. It is a perfect home for us to start a family, but I am beginning to be quite concerned about one thing: the flies! Never in my life, of all the different places that I have lived, have I had to deal with so many darn flies! Not only that, but they seem like some pretty freaking intillegent pests, at least the ones that live and breathe around me. Musca domestica Linnaeus, or the house fly, is a vector for pathogens, so when I see these little buzzing bodies I am completely disgusted, not to mention they meander around poop, and nobody likes poop.
It confounds me to have recently heard that PETA was all over President Obama for swatting at a fly during an interview; do they promote the spread of disease? If flies do have "feelings", surely it's only one, and how bad can one "feeling" hurt? I detest the abuse of any animals, but a fly!?... which actually came from something more disgusting: a maggot! So would PETA be all right if they saw a family of maggots writhing around in heir granola? It's hard for me even to write the word maggot without gagging.
With this fresh on my mind, while I was on my weekly Walmart excursion I remembered to buy a fly swatter; prior to this I had never bought one and so I had no clue what aisle or even what area code of Walmart I should look. I was sent to the cleaning supplies department, then to the fishing/hunting department, and then back to the cleaning supplies department, where I finally found one fly swatter left that was stuck randomly in between a bottle of toilet bowl cleaner and a bottle of Windex ( the toilet bowl cleaner, I can maybe rationalize, being that flies have an affinity for poop, and toilet bowl cleaner gets rid of poop, and therefore gets rid of the flies... like a fly swatter ... but Windex???) Needless to say, I purchased the fly swatter and the toilet bowl cleaner, and I am now feeling pretty domesticated.
Once at home, I start fixing myself a turkey sandwich, their one goes bzzzzzzz... bzzzzzzzz... all around my mayo. I grab the fly swatter and try to affix the fly in my sight, when I noticed that he was not landing anywhere, and when he would land, it would be on the blinds on my kitchen window (a very precarious place to try and swat). That's also when I began to wonder, how something that may be little more then a single cell organism, knows that I am on a mission to destroy it. Is it years and years of built in instinct past down from generation to generation? If so, what are they trying to preserve? Their lifespan is only, what, like a month? And in that month, what are they living for exactly? To share love? To be an asset to the great fly community? To bring joy to human life? To eat poop?
My husbands friend witnessed my pathetic attempt in stalking the fly; I was waiting until I was certain I'd be able to nail it to the intricate weaving of my fly swatter. He then showed me that I don't have to wait for the fly to land in order to swat. Wow! A mid-air attack! My power was awakened, and flies started dropping. I don't intend to mislead, we still have a fly problem, but I do feel that I am better equipped and skilled to take on the task and do my part in ridding the world of disease, one fly at a time.
It confounds me to have recently heard that PETA was all over President Obama for swatting at a fly during an interview; do they promote the spread of disease? If flies do have "feelings", surely it's only one, and how bad can one "feeling" hurt? I detest the abuse of any animals, but a fly!?... which actually came from something more disgusting: a maggot! So would PETA be all right if they saw a family of maggots writhing around in heir granola? It's hard for me even to write the word maggot without gagging.
With this fresh on my mind, while I was on my weekly Walmart excursion I remembered to buy a fly swatter; prior to this I had never bought one and so I had no clue what aisle or even what area code of Walmart I should look. I was sent to the cleaning supplies department, then to the fishing/hunting department, and then back to the cleaning supplies department, where I finally found one fly swatter left that was stuck randomly in between a bottle of toilet bowl cleaner and a bottle of Windex ( the toilet bowl cleaner, I can maybe rationalize, being that flies have an affinity for poop, and toilet bowl cleaner gets rid of poop, and therefore gets rid of the flies... like a fly swatter ... but Windex???) Needless to say, I purchased the fly swatter and the toilet bowl cleaner, and I am now feeling pretty domesticated.
Once at home, I start fixing myself a turkey sandwich, their one goes bzzzzzzz... bzzzzzzzz... all around my mayo. I grab the fly swatter and try to affix the fly in my sight, when I noticed that he was not landing anywhere, and when he would land, it would be on the blinds on my kitchen window (a very precarious place to try and swat). That's also when I began to wonder, how something that may be little more then a single cell organism, knows that I am on a mission to destroy it. Is it years and years of built in instinct past down from generation to generation? If so, what are they trying to preserve? Their lifespan is only, what, like a month? And in that month, what are they living for exactly? To share love? To be an asset to the great fly community? To bring joy to human life? To eat poop?
My husbands friend witnessed my pathetic attempt in stalking the fly; I was waiting until I was certain I'd be able to nail it to the intricate weaving of my fly swatter. He then showed me that I don't have to wait for the fly to land in order to swat. Wow! A mid-air attack! My power was awakened, and flies started dropping. I don't intend to mislead, we still have a fly problem, but I do feel that I am better equipped and skilled to take on the task and do my part in ridding the world of disease, one fly at a time.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Maybe She's Born With it...
Recently I was coerced by my Mom to go make-up shopping. I hardly wear make-up and when I do it seems to melt off my face faster then it takes for me to put it on. For me, the most fascinating thing about make-up shopping is the overwhelming variety of colors. On this particular trip, I couldn't help but be infatuated with the assortment of mascara that was being peddled. Mascara, after all, was once rumored to be made of bat poop; I can neither confirm nor deny this allegation.
Anyhow, it amazes me how a little wand can be transformed into accomplishing so much; let's name a few: High Impact Volumizing/Thickening , Lash Doubling Volumizing/Thickening, Long Wearing, Long Pretty Lashes, Natural Gloss, High Impact Curling, High Definition, Gentle Waterproof, Waterproof ... the list, and hopefully your lashes (bad joke), goes on and on and on. The whole experience left me in desperate want for a long, curly, "everlasting", Jessica Rabbit lash. The kind of lash you could bat a baseball with.
So now I'm starting to see commercials for some prescription eye lash creme that promises "longer, fuller, darker lashes", it also warns that it may cause " skin darkening which may be reversible"..."potential for increased brown iris pigmentation which is likely to be permanent", and "potential for hair growth to occur in areas where the solution comes in repeated contact with skin surfaces". Geez...all for the price to seem alluring? From where this arbitrary idea of darkening and lengthening your lashes originate? Well, apparently Egyptians use to darken the area around their eyes, with something they call kohl, to ward off evil spirits. As for adding to the length of the lash...maybe they battled the evil spirits with there long lashes, using them as spears. What ever the case was, somehow this transpired and fixated into our definition of beauty.
Needless to say, I was allured into buying a $16 wand of mascara that promised to be "smudge proof". While it is that, it clumps and flakes and I have to use something like a Brillo Pad to remove it from my face, yet somehow it makes its way into my hair. What can I do but go back to the store and buy the eyelash primer, the eyelash separator and the mascara remover. Shouldn't that have come with the mascara, in a little kit? Maybe I should just dig up some kohl and use it to encircle my eyes? At least then the evil spirits wouldn't try and mess with me, then again nobody would.
Anyhow, it amazes me how a little wand can be transformed into accomplishing so much; let's name a few: High Impact Volumizing/Thickening , Lash Doubling Volumizing/Thickening, Long Wearing, Long Pretty Lashes, Natural Gloss, High Impact Curling, High Definition, Gentle Waterproof, Waterproof ... the list, and hopefully your lashes (bad joke), goes on and on and on. The whole experience left me in desperate want for a long, curly, "everlasting", Jessica Rabbit lash. The kind of lash you could bat a baseball with.
So now I'm starting to see commercials for some prescription eye lash creme that promises "longer, fuller, darker lashes", it also warns that it may cause " skin darkening which may be reversible"..."potential for increased brown iris pigmentation which is likely to be permanent", and "potential for hair growth to occur in areas where the solution comes in repeated contact with skin surfaces". Geez...all for the price to seem alluring? From where this arbitrary idea of darkening and lengthening your lashes originate? Well, apparently Egyptians use to darken the area around their eyes, with something they call kohl, to ward off evil spirits. As for adding to the length of the lash...maybe they battled the evil spirits with there long lashes, using them as spears. What ever the case was, somehow this transpired and fixated into our definition of beauty.
Needless to say, I was allured into buying a $16 wand of mascara that promised to be "smudge proof". While it is that, it clumps and flakes and I have to use something like a Brillo Pad to remove it from my face, yet somehow it makes its way into my hair. What can I do but go back to the store and buy the eyelash primer, the eyelash separator and the mascara remover. Shouldn't that have come with the mascara, in a little kit? Maybe I should just dig up some kohl and use it to encircle my eyes? At least then the evil spirits wouldn't try and mess with me, then again nobody would.
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