I'm sure we've all heard those motivational speeches on T.V. or in movies, or perhaps in person, telling us if we want something, we should get out and find it. I'm going to tell you all right now, that is entirely impossible most times in this world. Most times, we are usually persuaded to choose something we wouldn't have otherwise desired purely by advertising, suppression, or even forced by legal or unwritten law. So there you have it. I'm pissed off at the world for being a giant fucking hypocrite.

You make me feel so unhappy that I want you to never be happy again. And unhappy is a loose term. I would say you make me feel.. like you threw me into the deep sea and then jumped in next to me just to watch me suffer. And I'm still angry at you for not ever being around. Maybe mostly because you not being around means you are happy somewhere else. And I hate that.

Thank you.

"It is a common delusion that you make things better by talking about them." - Dame Rose Macaulay

phrase of the day: "blood is thicker than water, bitch!"

It has been a great weekend, so far. We got our tree, a nice 6' ish douglas fir. Put some lights on it, some pretty ornaments... I love it, it smells wonderful and makes me a warm and squishy inside. Watched a few episodes of the first season of SNL. Amazing stuff! Seriously, they really did whatever they wanted. Every episode is something else. Went to the Royal Tavern last night, had a grilled cheese with some tomato soup. Hello, yummy. Today I made some delicious chocolate chocolate hazelnut cookies. Yuuuuum.

It's snowing! Nature (goulet), you just made my life. *sigh*

Time for hot chocolate. :D

Yeah.. I'm having a bad day. Is it that obvious? Maybe if I was more obvious about who I am I wouldn't get misunderstood all the time.

And, why don't I just work overnight? I swear, I don't even have my fucking work yet today. I will not stand for this.

Blast.

I am officially dilusional. I was at Rite Aid and I smelled the deodorant. THE deodorant. What kind freak am I!?

Lately every song on the radio brings me to that place. I can barely stop thinking. Sometimes I don't even open up my eyes because I know it won't be. So stop it, Liz. Stop acting so crazy.

On second thought, let's go horseback riding. I want to feel the wind on my hair, riding through fields of high grass in the crisp air, my big scarf hiding my face from the cold. I want to go back to North Carolina, have a beer and swim in the lake. Get a little sunburnt and swim a little more to ease the burning. Maybe fly a plane. I want to get a little high and lay in the grass and stare at the stars.

Is that so much to ask!?

Saturday, saturday, saturday. You warm my heart and my senses... I'll keep dreaming of you as long as I can. Under the covers, my hair in your face. Yes, I would love to, even though I said no. Okay?

Happy fucking friday everyone. I have felt sick to my stomach ever since last night. I want to bury myself under the covers and sleep, but I won't.

I bought Paul a light for his bike and helmet and a balaclava. I am a nice girlfriend... Did that sound forced at all?

I had a major deva-vu just now, as Jen was sitting across from me at work talking to June. It's a love/hate relationship with it for me. The possibility that it's just a lousy feeling bothers the hell out of me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm a prophet or a dreamer. If I was a prophet, what kind of mad dealings would I be spreading? I have been practically unconsious all day today, who knows what kind of crap I might start saying if someone handed me a microphone.

I want to go to sleep. I want my hair to be long again like it was when I was young. I want a big fluffy dog to cuddle with me on the couch. I want you to kiss me out of the blue. See, those things would make me happy. Time to get working on them.

"Happiness is always a by-product. It is probably a matter of temperament, and for anything I know it may be glandular. But it is not something that can be demanded from life, and if you are not happy you had better stop worrying about it and see what treasures you can pluck from your own brand of unhappiness." - Robertson Davies

I pulled that little tid-bit from google quotes on my homepage, one of the best ones I've read so far. Some people say or write things that completely blow my mind. My mind has been blown. It's as though it's something that's been waiting to be said for millions of years, and 50 or so years after it's said, it's put out there, blowing peoples minds. Am I not making sense? That's because my mind is so blown, I can barely speak. Barely...

Things that are amazing today:

^my gift hanging in the closet
^cake at 9am
^my mom singing 'happy birthday' to me over the phone
^not having a very stressful day at work
^one pair of black heels with wooden soles
^one pair of patent leather mary jane pumps
^sweaters
^paul
^delicious food and drinking framboise
^relaxing

*sigh* Happy Birthday to me.

Here at work, there is a rail yard right next door. Sometimes in the early morning I can hear them sounding off when they come into the yard. It reminds me of the suburbs. Quiet moments in the car with people I love. Mirah lilting from the stereo, my icy breathe fogging the windows. Today, the trains make me want to warm myself under mountainous piles of blankets. When it comes time to turn the clock back, I'm not so sure I'll survive it. I'm not so sure about anything.

Can you believe that we are half-way through this month already? I have the beginnings of a cold right now, which I plan on conquering. I was wondering why I have been exhausted lately, and today it kicked me right in the face. The way I feel right now can only be described by the onomatopoeia 'ugh'. I would definitely consider that an onomatopoeia, by the way, for I sound the way I feel. Today, I will eat all my vegetables and drink lots of tea. Tomorrow, I will be better than ever, right?

In other news, Paul and I have put ourselves on a budget. I love this idea. I definitely need help budget-wise, and taking control of the planning is helping me understand my flaws. Though, they were pretty obvious to begin with.

Today is the beginning of the last quarter of this month. We know what that means, right? Oh yes, PMS. Let’s go. It's on.

'Twas a very good weekend. Among other things, we finished painting our living room. We had done all but one wall, and considering the time it took us to do it, you'd think it was the Great Wall of China. Our living room now feels seperate from the rest of the house, like a little nook to cuddle in, a cranny to croon in. It's painted a light purple-blue, a blue that reminds me of a cool, bright morning. The first couple of days we were in the house, I made a lamp out of a wine bottle that Paul loves (Red Bicyclette), with a dark blue lampshade. I put the lamp on a small book shelf in the corner and switched it on. I put a little flower pot with (fake) red, orange and yellow carnations practically overflowing everywhere on top of our tv, and they popped out from the walls. The room was completely different, it had a new mood. A calm and soothing mood. That was just what we needed to lure us in and keep us there. I promptly fell asleep.

Do you ever feel like howling at the moon? Tonight, I do.

I see you everywhere I want to, and I just don't like it.


Edit (unrelated):

Is it possible to fall in love with a fictional character? Lordy.

You shouldn't misinterpret my mystery for some off form of betrayal or aberration. I understand though, the only person I know who is worse than me is my father. The most straight-forward, obstinate man I know, yet still retains a immense and cryptic form of depth.

I had a great weekend. Paul and I did many things. Most important of them all, we went to New York City, and visited the Guggenheim. We saw the Zaha Hadid exhibit. She is an amazing architect, and she reminds me very much of the Fountainhead. Her work is futuristic and organic, and at the same time, and she encompasses the public space and well being into her building. Check her out, she is a genius.

In other news, I have finished Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates. The ending was less intense than Jitterbug Perfume but it definitely left me satisfied. In Jitterbug, the very last sentence of the book made the story complete. I started to read Atlas Shrugged this morning, but I promptly started to fall asleep. I will re-start it when I get home from work today, it's too hard to start a book when I am exhausted. I definitely could have used another day, but I'm not sure if I would have felt better coming back to work later, or if I would have felt better missing another day. Hmm...

Today, I bought Linguistics: An Introduction by Andrew Radford, Martin Atkinson, David Britain, Harald Clahsen, and Andrew Spencer. (I hope it doesn't take that many people to read this book!) The other book about the lost languages is apparently for a skill level I have not quite reached. So, being fascinated, I am starting to read up on linguistics. It all sounds so easy, but I assure you it isn't. Originially I was going to get The Story of Writing by Andrew Robinson, thinking I would be on the right track, but no, I was being mislead. Apparently in linguistics, writing is considered to be secondary to speech. Makes quite a bit of sense considering you don't start to learn to write until atleast a few years after you learn to talk. So, now that I'm on the right track, I shall be writing novels on deciphering scripts before Einstein can come back to life and exclaim "Eureka!".

Which is to say, that will never happen...

This book I'm reading, Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates (Tom Robbins), deals a lot with hypocrisy. The lead character "Switters" is a vegetarian, but eats gravy. Hates the government but works for the CIA. Dispises organized religion but is considering joining the Catholic faith. It really makes hypocrisy hilarious to me. It's definitely taken the edge off a lot of things that used to bother me. I strongly recommend it. I have been on a Tom Robbins binge lately, and I just bought his first book yesterday Another Roadside Attraction along with Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. I am pretty much going to force myself to read Altas Shrugged before another Robbins book (though Paul demands I hurry up and read Even Cowgirls Get the Blues so we can watch the movie [I heard it sucked]). I might even read Lost Languages: The Enigma of the World's Undeciphered Scripts (Andrew Robinson) as well, before allowing myself to move onto Robbins. I might become a girl obsessed. Pretty soon I'll be moving to Seattle and stalking him. I'll throw beets at him. He'll never know it was me!

Fugitive polygamist sect leader nabbed in Vegas


"Jeffs reportedly banned television, newspaper, radio and media of any kind, including the Internet.
He also banned holidays, the colour red, and laughter."

This is the worst week ever (exaggeration). In fact, it's as though the worst weekend ever is overflowing and it is spewing it's schmutz all over everything around it. Ruined! My favorite pair of shoes, with schmutz filling the toes. I got into a lovely little debacle today. My car got it's schmutz all over another car in a far off place that even the police were questioning how the schmutz got into a crack that small. Thankfully, my fellow pilot agreed that the schmutz was becoming far too prevalant these days. Dank and nasty, it leaves a sticky trail wherever it goes. We frowned, and the police came.

Sigh.

The lovely Maurer Wedding. Click to see.

Lately, I've been pretty conflicted by my views on movies and books. I enjoy them, they transport me. I am afraid that I am not living my life fully by absorbing myself in someone else's life so wholly. I've read three books in less than two weeks. What could I have done during that time to experience reality? Am I masking my life behind fiction? During work I read profusely. There honestly isn't much else for me to do, especially in the realm of experience, so I feel it may be appropriate then. Yet, when I get home, instead of stepping outside and seeing new things, I yearn to step inside and experience someone else's cooked-up travels. A life or experience that someone else has created to entertain whoever may pick up the book or movie. Makes me sad, even sick.

Perhaps I should stick to non-fiction or documentary? But then, will I still be experiencing something that wasn't meant to be my experience, even though it really happened?

Ugh, I need a motrin. To dull yet another of my own stone-cold realities. Cramps.

Edit:

Revelations! No, not the hair-raising short story in the you-know-what. Realizations, may them be small or large, that may change your day or change your life. Today, it was somewhere in between.

Why is it when I am shopping for tampons, I am constantly forced to label my flow? Why must I conform to regular, super, or ultra super? What if I find my flow to be spectacular, or perhaps outta-this-world? Where can I buy tampons to help me express that my monthly visitor is so looked forward to that I blow up my fancy air mattress and give it my best sheets? How can I ever show my feelings, when my choices are regular, super, or ultra super? It is certainly not regular, infact, I have an over-abundance of "regular" tampons floating around my bathroom and bedroom. They never seemed to fit my flow's style quite right. And super and ultra-super... If someone told you you were "ultra-super", how flattered would you really be? Would you really feel welcome in their house, or would you find yourself feeling alienated and unwanted. Please, my fabulous moon visitor, come back to me every month. Our affair is rather fulfilling, and I couldn't bear to see you go!

It's official, I am practicing lunarception. I am NOT trying to concieve, so I guess more appropriately, my cycle is lining up with the big fat moon. Today is the New Moon, and I have starting menstrating. I've never given much thought to it, but after reading about it, I realized that I have been doing it without even trying.