A moderately, selectively depressed female in a hetero-relationship with a feelings blog.
Easy enough!
Instead, post pictures of the cute #vegan meals you've made but with the lint-roller, cat brush, used floss, and other signs of life still on the table, visible in your viewfinder.
That's more real.
There's nothing wrong with processing one's feelings like that, but those aren't your feelings. Stop reading those blogs like they are your trashy reality-television. HA! And for Christ's sake stop telling yourself what to do through a blog post. This one is too good. This might be my favorite post thus far.
I'm having a ball. I'm also having left-over Thanksgiving wine that we couldn't actually drink on Thanksgiving due to accidental shaming on lawless in-law's part.
Friday, November 29, 2013
Good morning.
When she first wakes up, she does so knowing full well she could go back to bed as soon as he leaves for work. She often does.
But every morning will be different, even though every morning is the same. "Not this time," she thinks, but not so much in words as feeling. Today she gets dressed even though she doesn't need to just yet. Looking back, maybe if she'd have put on shoes she would have fully felt ready and thus wouldn't have allowed herself to fall back asleep. Or if she hadn't taken his advice and showered and washed her hair the night before, knowing full well that she doesn't like the body her hair gets when she falls asleep with it damp, thus causing her to a) not feel fully ready for the day with bad hair (along the same lines as the Lack of Shoes Principle) and b) forgo the chance of getting that I'm awake feeling by showering in the morning. Two showers in twelve hours in a desert is appalling.
She is very aware that she lives in a desert and also that she shouldn't be using anything powered with gasoline.
Before the nap (that for the sake of the story disheartened the rest of her day but in actuality hardly interrupted).
But every morning will be different, even though every morning is the same. "Not this time," she thinks, but not so much in words as feeling. Today she gets dressed even though she doesn't need to just yet. Looking back, maybe if she'd have put on shoes she would have fully felt ready and thus wouldn't have allowed herself to fall back asleep. Or if she hadn't taken his advice and showered and washed her hair the night before, knowing full well that she doesn't like the body her hair gets when she falls asleep with it damp, thus causing her to a) not feel fully ready for the day with bad hair (along the same lines as the Lack of Shoes Principle) and b) forgo the chance of getting that I'm awake feeling by showering in the morning. Two showers in twelve hours in a desert is appalling.
She is very aware that she lives in a desert and also that she shouldn't be using anything powered with gasoline.
Before the nap (that for the sake of the story disheartened the rest of her day but in actuality hardly interrupted).
Amir is a ball.
Should we get a new one? I don't even know what part is what.
"Let's get inspired. Let's take advantage of our conditions."
This statement ended up being much less inspiring when I asked him to elaborate on what he meant. I was hoping for some magic. I was expecting an easy out, or rather, an easy in. Starting off on a new path for the day, something more predominant in my memory than my hours on Tumblr and my smart phone are currently inhabiting.
One person can play Scrabble. One person can clean the bedroom. As pattern proves, I don't even want help when with the cleaning. I should clarify. You do all the cleaning, but if I take a moment to organize and you're there to help, I will become much too overwhelmed by the assumption that I SHOULD be cleaning. Then, I stop. And you continue. And a play freecell on my phone while sitting on the toilet for the twenty minutes it takes you to finish the day-long clothes-folding project I had started.
Did you know cats don't really like being pet? Or most cats.
Writing goal: write with enough clarity and intention to not need to capitalize words for emphasis. If I didn't, currently, much tone would be lost, but let's be better than that.
"Let's get inspired. Let's take advantage of our conditions."
This statement ended up being much less inspiring when I asked him to elaborate on what he meant. I was hoping for some magic. I was expecting an easy out, or rather, an easy in. Starting off on a new path for the day, something more predominant in my memory than my hours on Tumblr and my smart phone are currently inhabiting.
One person can play Scrabble. One person can clean the bedroom. As pattern proves, I don't even want help when with the cleaning. I should clarify. You do all the cleaning, but if I take a moment to organize and you're there to help, I will become much too overwhelmed by the assumption that I SHOULD be cleaning. Then, I stop. And you continue. And a play freecell on my phone while sitting on the toilet for the twenty minutes it takes you to finish the day-long clothes-folding project I had started.
Did you know cats don't really like being pet? Or most cats.
Writing goal: write with enough clarity and intention to not need to capitalize words for emphasis. If I didn't, currently, much tone would be lost, but let's be better than that.
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Fly.
And with thanks to the fly that was kind enough to hover around Amir, keeping him entertained. It stayed close enough to retain the cat's interest, but, smart fly, kept his distance so as to not die.
Amir likes to sit at my feet when I pee in the morning, or any other time of day. In this new apartment he's taken to drinking from the slippery (he's still learning that it is slippery) porcelain free-standing sink next to the toilet. He does slip a lot.
And when he's done drinking, (Did you know cats don't lap water like dogs, but rather create motion in the water so that they may bite the stream they've pulled into their mouths? Look it up; it's rather fascinating, especially if you're sleep deprived and watching your cat drink from the sink to your left while you sit with your underwear around your ankles (no pants, remember, because you just woke up and you've most likely just slept in that underwear and a t-shirt) remaining checked-out from the day's upcoming activities.) he doesn't tell you. He also doesn't immediately jump out of the sink to alert you that yes, it is time to turn off the tiny stream of water. I am certain to keep the stream small and low pressure for that purpose; we live in a desert and he's not going to turn it off himself and if it runs for another few moments before I register he is done with it, I'd like to waste as little water as possible, thank you.
The slipping comes next, usually, assuming that the slipping didn't already happen as he made the standing jump up into the sink. In actuality he could slip on both occasions. He, Amir, is fully capable. But most frequently the slipping comes next as he tries to walk from that porcelain sink to your (one's, my) left to the tank of the toilet behind you (o, m).
I reread my post title. Simply, Amir was entertained by a summertime fly that found its way into the bathroom with the two of us this morning. The fly added another element of excitement to our morning routine, so that's all.
Amir likes to sit at my feet when I pee in the morning, or any other time of day. In this new apartment he's taken to drinking from the slippery (he's still learning that it is slippery) porcelain free-standing sink next to the toilet. He does slip a lot.
And when he's done drinking, (Did you know cats don't lap water like dogs, but rather create motion in the water so that they may bite the stream they've pulled into their mouths? Look it up; it's rather fascinating, especially if you're sleep deprived and watching your cat drink from the sink to your left while you sit with your underwear around your ankles (no pants, remember, because you just woke up and you've most likely just slept in that underwear and a t-shirt) remaining checked-out from the day's upcoming activities.) he doesn't tell you. He also doesn't immediately jump out of the sink to alert you that yes, it is time to turn off the tiny stream of water. I am certain to keep the stream small and low pressure for that purpose; we live in a desert and he's not going to turn it off himself and if it runs for another few moments before I register he is done with it, I'd like to waste as little water as possible, thank you.
The slipping comes next, usually, assuming that the slipping didn't already happen as he made the standing jump up into the sink. In actuality he could slip on both occasions. He, Amir, is fully capable. But most frequently the slipping comes next as he tries to walk from that porcelain sink to your (one's, my) left to the tank of the toilet behind you (o, m).
I reread my post title. Simply, Amir was entertained by a summertime fly that found its way into the bathroom with the two of us this morning. The fly added another element of excitement to our morning routine, so that's all.
Friday, July 26, 2013
Air Conditioning.
Writing to get the shit out, I guess.
My mood, if I may be so brash as to assume I have any ownership over said mood I exude, is instantly lifted with the beginnings of the poorly circulated air conditioning. Cold air blows out of the machine in one direction, at one temperature. The thing could run for hours and one would only ever feel it in the living room. So I stay in the living room, switching it off every fifteen minutes or so when it gets too cold blowing directly against skin and the white noise drowns out any other background noises that I'm also trying to drown out.
That isn't true. I like Korey's synth work. It's the first I've really heard of it. A pleasant break from the cheap keyboard that had a permanent playable home at the old residence. They keyboard usually only came on when I was late out the door, causing the duo to spend more time in limbo at home than where ever our destination would prefer us. Grabbing a bag full of "essentials" and determining whether or not I need to use the bathroom before I leave the house (yes, now I do, because I'm thinking about it, and all it takes is the reminder that I have access to a bathroom and my body suddenly decides it's time to pee again) takes the same time out of my day as the creation of an entire songs' riff takes from Korey's.
I think he has more hours in his day. I don't know where he finds them. I'm fascinated by his time management, as silly as that is. He's always inspired. Even when just browsing the computer, it's never mindlessly. I could reread the same facebook updates of friends three times a day out of habit, but Korey's always learning, processing, acquiring, inspired.
My mood, if I may be so brash as to assume I have any ownership over said mood I exude, is instantly lifted with the beginnings of the poorly circulated air conditioning. Cold air blows out of the machine in one direction, at one temperature. The thing could run for hours and one would only ever feel it in the living room. So I stay in the living room, switching it off every fifteen minutes or so when it gets too cold blowing directly against skin and the white noise drowns out any other background noises that I'm also trying to drown out.
That isn't true. I like Korey's synth work. It's the first I've really heard of it. A pleasant break from the cheap keyboard that had a permanent playable home at the old residence. They keyboard usually only came on when I was late out the door, causing the duo to spend more time in limbo at home than where ever our destination would prefer us. Grabbing a bag full of "essentials" and determining whether or not I need to use the bathroom before I leave the house (yes, now I do, because I'm thinking about it, and all it takes is the reminder that I have access to a bathroom and my body suddenly decides it's time to pee again) takes the same time out of my day as the creation of an entire songs' riff takes from Korey's.
I think he has more hours in his day. I don't know where he finds them. I'm fascinated by his time management, as silly as that is. He's always inspired. Even when just browsing the computer, it's never mindlessly. I could reread the same facebook updates of friends three times a day out of habit, but Korey's always learning, processing, acquiring, inspired.
Doughnut
"I had a doughnut of 'Duncan' variety on my date with my me. Will never need again. Shop was a perfect mix of employees probably currently attending a local-but-not-too-local high school, patrons excited by but totally savvy in urban living (commuting from Draper or Sandy) and your obvious "bottom of the barrel," "on their way back to hang out on the library's computers" folks. Both variations of clientele successful in reminding one why we (myself and myself on a date) shouldn't be eating this shit.
"But the coffee was great! Seemed like decent coffee brewed to be as watery as possible while still looking brown. My honest preference.
"I hope you'll still marry me.
"The thing with this weird dream was that I woke up thinking [Dunkin' Doughnuts] were amazing! A taste and texture I had to constantly dissuade myself from trying. Figured the worst that could happen is that they are as good as I was pretending (and as the delightful exterior (and interior, I have verified!!) would have marketed me to believe). And most likely just realize that they do not live up to my unrealistic dream-state standard. The later occurred. Hey I love you! It's okay if you don't kiss me for a few days while I detox it from my system."
Revised for moderate grammatical accuracy. Originally sent from iPod to Korey's iPhone.
Revised for moderate grammatical accuracy. Originally sent from iPod to Korey's iPhone.
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