Big Frakkin' Spider and other scary things

Courtesy of http://www.fazed.org/content/clock_spider/

If I walked into the house and saw this:



I would not have moved the clock knowing I would reveal this:



In reality, if faced with giant spider legs stick out from behind clock, I would have immediately called movers. I would never set foot in the house again.


And though I know vampires are slightly flamboyant (capes, delicious accents, etc.), mistaking a peacock for one just shouldn't happen.

What Have I Been Up To?

Yay Tomatoes!

I have also been spinning straw into gold... errr, roving into yarn.




I went out the other night with a couple of friends, reconnecting. The Honey went out for the first part, but went home early. It was good, talking to my friends. I haven't done that in a while, just hung out with nothing but enjoyment on my mind.

I'll admit that sometimes I want to hang out so that my husband will meet my friends and will find more that he likes. I am constantly trying to assimilate my husband's idiosyncrasies into my friends' zaniness. That basically means they're all crazy, but I wouldn't have it any other way. I've always wanted to just get to the point where my husband says, "Let's hang out with [insert name of friend here]". As I get used to his personality, I loosen up a bit more. I'm alright if he doesn't like anyone, but I'm glad that he's taken to some of my friends.

Speaking of friends, I have a friend situation that I am finally able to let go of. It took a while, a lot of soul searching, and one night out on the town and a few too many shots of tequila (on their half) to see a side of old friends that should really stay hidden. Have you ever met someone whose every action is a lie? I didn't think it was possible to know someone for a couple of years and seem close to them and find out that every moment had been a lie. Well, not every moment, but enough where no "good" memory yields good feelings anymore. I used to reminisce because I remembered how she used to be, but now that I see what she has become outwardly, I am not sure I want to know inwardly, but I guess it's because I remember too.

Memories aren't what they used to be.

Tomatoes

My tomato plant, which has grown taller than me, has finally produced fruit. Only two right now and maybe a few more... I can only hope!

Today, All My Troubles Seem So Near At Hand

Actually, I haven't really had any troubles today. I feel like, for the first time, I may really be getting a handle on my non-writing job. It's refreshing.

As for writing... well...

Today, I talked to one of my teachers. It went really well (so I think, anyway), but something weird happened. As I was getting ready to leave, this old guy with top and bottom teeth missing started talking to me about this "thing" a friend gave him and asked me if I wanted to press a button.

Ummmmm, excuse me? Do I know you?

He was creepy. I don't mean to be a judge by looks kind of person, but this was hard to miss. I had a feeling he was trying to witness to me, that if I pressed the "thing's" button, it would give me a message of hope or something.

Lame.

I mean, first of all, if you have no top or bottom teeth, just try talking to me about God. Don't try to con me into doing something that gets me involved. Because then, you look like a pervert.

A no teeth pervert.

I think they made a film about that.

It's not that I don't want to hear about God. It's just that I want to hear about God from someone I think can articulate. I don't need props. Just ask me a question. As it is, I don't EVER play with things strangers ask me to play with.

I've been feeling extremely hungry. I get sharp, nearly crippling hunger pangs, like my stomach is striking at the rest of my body. I NEED to eat. But then, once I start eating, I feel sick to my stomach. But I have to keep eating because that extreme hunger sensation is still there. I have to eat slowly and take deep breaths so I don't throw up.

And no, I know for a fact that I'm not pregnant.

So what's wrong with me. Monday, when I was driving to return the rental car from our recent trip to North Carolina (conference for me, vacation for The Honey), I literally was forced off the road and to the nearest food source, which in this case was the Waffle House, and ordered food and coffee like a mad person and at like one of those starving children my mom always wanted me to think about. I immediately wanted to throw it up (although, it being waffle house, I didn't associate with my hunger so much as with the grease). All answers will be appreciated.

Things About Me

I have an addictive personality. I realized this early on, I guess. Research tells you early on that if you have parents addicted to alcohol or drugs, you may share the same qualities that would cause you to be addicted to things. So I decided to stay away from smoking, drinking, drugs, sex, etc. because I didn't want to be controlled by those things.

But I did not put the brakes on other areas where my addictive personality shows through. Like eating. Now, I'm not as big as a house, but I can put away food. My first and lasting addiction is cheese in all it's various forms. I like cheddar the best, although Parmesan usually peaks its head in. That was followed by an addiction to cheese snacks. Nacho Cheese Doritos, Cheesums Pringles, I once had a year long addiction to the crunchy cheetos. Then it went to cereal. I would go to the local bulk food store and buy Honey Bunches of Oats with Almond cereal. Then I would hide them in my room and eat them when no one else would notice.

Man, I loved that cereal.

That addictive nature has moved into the knitting/spinning/yarn loving arena and the gardening arena. I think I realized this when I had my hands (gloved of course) in pounds of worm compost (worm poop for those of you who don't know) looking for the worms I was using to start my own worm farm. I search the internet for natural ways to kill the vermin that are destroying my strawberries. Out of nowhere, in the middle of completely different conversation, I will go off topic and talk about my garden, as if no other conversation had been going on. I long to get home to my spinning wheel. Someone from the yarn store let me borrow their older wheel, just to see if I like it and I have to say, I like it a lot. There is a lot of peace in the repetitiveness of pumping the treadle, pulling the roving and winding the yarn.

Except for spinning Sunday, I think I will purpose in my heart to finish at least one edge and start on the 3rd edge of my baby blanket, so the little baby cutie will get it while she can still snuggle underneath it.

What'd y'all order a dead guy for?

I tried for a long time to convince The Honey to watch Serenity with me. Then one night, unbeknownst to me, he watched it, probably out of boredom.

And he liked it.

He liked it enough to try Firefly, the show the movie Serenity came from. The show that did so poorly on Fox, the show I was mad at for taking Dark Angel's place. Now, I watch the 14 episodes at least 2 times a year, if not more and I remember Michael Weatherly more from NCIS than from the show I once paid so much attention to.

So when Firefly comes out in HD DVD, we will enjoy a mini marathon of canceled television show ending with the series finally major motion picture and enjoy ever goram minute of it.

"You wanna explain to me exactly why you got yourself all corpsefied and mailed to me?"

I love the characters. As I watch it now, every time I watch the show, I can't believe how much I like it. I can't believe I didn't give it a chance. I was young and stupid I guess. I've laughed and cried with this group of bandits, watched them be a family... it's awesome. An awesome show.

He asked me if the show was better than the movie. Yes. Yes it is.

I can't watch the movie without watching the show. I'd prefer to watch the show first, followed by the movie, in its true order. However, I started out with the movie and then the show, just like The Honey will. Maybe I'll start dvr-ing the show on Universal HD and watching it with him, since our fall shows are off the air for the summer.

Keeping In Touch

Sometimes, I don't write because I feel like I don't have something profound to say. You know, I kind of want each post to be something big, or manifest some new thought or lead others into a different way of thinking.

It's a nuisance really. I am itching to talk about things, but when it comes to getting those "things" down, I balk...

I choke, really.

But really, all I ever do is write, watch tv, knit/spin, and garden. I am a boring person. Oh, I have a job and I manage people, but when it comes to the things that make up me, these are the things, besides being a wife, that take up the most time.

I'm thinking about working on that blanket. I finished one sock, but find starting a new one is easy and hard at the same time. Both involve some sort of boredom in doing a repetitive action over and over again, but then again that sense of excitement that on long strand of fabric creates a multitude of things. When I showed my husband my sock, a sock that looked made specifically for my foot (because it was), he was amazed. Not because he didn't think I could do it, i don't think, but because he didn't realize the joy in it. Something created specifically for you. Something that took time and doesn't look like garbage, something that looks like something you might buy. Amazing.

I cooked out today, a few things. There's nothing like the taste of grill cooked food. And I wanted that taste. It was really good. I wished my tomato plant had ripe tomatoes for me to cut up on the hamburgers. One day, that will be the case. My strawberries are pretty, but now I have to wage war on the slugs so that they don't eat them first. I'm also started a worm farm so that I can have my own composte. It's amazing how good vermicomposting is for plants. Yes, I am handling worms. I used to fish. But I do wear gloves because, basically, those creepy crawlers deserve their names. (is slightly grossed out just thinking about it). With the gloves, it's not so bad.

I am trying my best to be a consistently good writer. Right now, I'm merely passable. There are some things I can be proud of, but mainly it's crap. To me. I want to be consistent. I'll give myself time before I throw in the towel.

I miss tv. My DVR is lonely. No new shows for it to record (just yet) and nothing new for me to watch. It's sad. I can't wait until the summer season starts. It's just that pause between Winter and summer seasons that's a bit frustrating for those addicted to television. Just as well, I need a bit of a break anyway. Ruffles don't knit themselves.

Exciting and New

My strawberry bucket is growing strawberries quickly, my tomato plant, while not full of tomatoes at all, is still alive and growing. My other poor, dead, plant is trying to sprout leaves again. (It actually did, but in my excitement at not actually completely killing the plant, I broke it off... I am so bad at this.) I will have more pictures soon.

I pulled my grape yarn off the spindle. It is hanging to dry as we speak. I will check it out tomorrow. It has been pretty exciting making my own yarn. I find, though, that I need more than excitement, perseverance, a spindle and roving. Apparently, I truly need something to wind it on... it's hard pulling yarn from the spindle and wrapping it all by myself.

Halo 3 Multiplayer beta came out for XBox360 users who play Crackdown. I don't like it. Of course, I've never played Halo, I didn't play the beta multiplayer version, but if I can't make it through the training session of Gears of War, how in the world am I going to stop thinking human beings on a hunt for anything that moves. I will stick to my Viva Pinata garden, thank you very much.

I hope they come out with an XBox360 portable, like the DS Lite (my favourite thus far) or the PSP. Every now and then, I just want to pull out the player and see if I can finally attract a Dragumfly to my garden. Or start all over. Whatever works!

My desk at work is not clean, but it is very manageable.

I could really use a candy bar right now. (Exciting, but not new)

We are going to watch the first game of the new baseball team here. I hope it's good. Local baseball was always fun.

I am getting better as a writer (not that you can tell it here, but I am!).

Green Thumb

I bought tomato plants. A good friend is growing them on his apartment balcony, apparently with much success, so I figured I would try. I bought a plant, but the guy gave me two with a sly little "just in case" look.





He was right... However, I am continuing the growth of one plant...




But what I am most excited about is my strawberry bucket. I was a bit disappointed when I first bought it. there were only 4 strawberry buds on it. Yet today, when I went out, I found at least 10 buds total and about 3 more possibles. I'm so excited.

Baby strawberry flower...



Strawberries!






All in this one little container...



To show that I am becoming obsessed (as usual) with a new hobby, I am considering my own worm farm for composting....That's right, spawning thousands of worms and using their poop for fertilizer. Obsessed.

Never Satisfied

I love living by the lake. I love being able to sit out on my patio and write/read/watch tv on my computer. Do you know what I hate?

Spring slash summer.

Oh.My.Word.

I spend the winter hoping for the spring. I am so excited about the first morning I can step outside with my computer in something other than gloves and sweatshirt (can't type in gloves).

So, apparently, are the critters. Mosquitoes, gnats, other flying lake things, spiders, beetles, ants... They, too, spend all winter just waiting for the spring, to come out of hibernation, to pursue something they hope to be one day good at - like flying up my nose just as I think I'll be left alone.

It is so beautiful to look at the lake. In the spring, the morning air is so perfect, a nice gentle breeze that is neither cold nor hot. The air is crisp, the light is good, the waves are gentle. I love it.

I hate the critters.

There are literally 3 good days to be outside.

This year, I missed them all. All I got was bugs.

These bugs travel in packs, like a gang. An angry, hyperactive gang. They move so fast, yet they can hover in one spot for hours. Apparently, there are several bug rivalries. They will clash at times, move away, then come back to their spots.

I missed my days. But if anyone can find me an ant free outside spot, I'd be forever grateful.

Cinco de Mayo

The 5th of May is not really anything special to us. Drinking margaritas and going out to Mexican restaurants is a common occurence. The special thing about this year is that the Honey was going to be off and able to celebrate cinco de mayo on the 5th of may. The unspecial thing about this 5th of may is that the Honey was sick.

Stuffy head, aching, sneezing, coughing sick.

Poor baby.

So we had Cinco de Mayo at home. Soft beef tacos and fish tacos, although I didn't have avocados which I should if I were doing fish tacos... nevertheless, they were good. The Braves are losing, which does not bode well for this game against the Dodgers or our one game lead. Here's hoping the Mets lose tonight.

We tried our margaritas with real lime juice (which the Honey liked best), sweetened lime juice (which I liked best) and the packaged margarita mix is waiting for our try. Although I like it to be sweetened, the first was really good.

So, what did you suckers do for Cinco de Mayo?

All Time Nerd High

I have been knitting for almost three years now. I started the summer before I got married, although I got discouraged in the early parts of marriage and put knitting down for a bit. Then, on the way to visit family in Michigan, I decided to bring my knitting with me and I have been going ever since.

I'm still in the "knit straight things" category, scarves, blankets, afghans, etc. The other day, during a special event at my favourite yarn shop, Creative Yarns I talked someone into showing me how to make yarn from "roving", fiber in its unfinished form.

My husband has informed me I at at an all time high in nerddom. But I love it. It is interesting watching this:



turn into this:



and this:



In other knitterly news, I am still working on the baby blanket for a special little girl. This is what I have so far:



It is mostly finished, although the hardest part, the ruffled edge, is taking the longest. 1 down, 3 more to go! *sigh*

Gears of War Can Eat Baloney; I Love Viva Pinata

I'm not a gamer. You would never mistake me for one.

Yet the other day, I beat the 200 lines version of Tetris on DS Lite. Granted, when I first started playing, I couldn't get past level 4 even if I had help with the first 20 lines. Yet one day, I was flowing, the block were falling, my mind, not my fingers were moving them and suddenly, they were no longer falling and words were scrolling and I realized that I had won.

So I got bolder.

I played Elebits for the Wii. Elebits is a game where you are basically catching little critters that make electrical things work. You capture a certain wattage to win a level. They put up obstacles, like you can only break a few things or you can't make much noise. They also put a critter in that you couldn't capture AND that could attack you and reduce your strength.

Not cool. But completely so at the same time.

I like the Wii because you feel like you are a part of the game. I was playing a boss level, which I haven't beaten yet, and I was moving all over the room while trying to dodge big balls of energy like it was truly going to come out of the screen. I like the Wii.

Then my husband gets the XBox360. It is an amazing bit of machinery and the type of game that is just what I have always avoided when it comes to video games. Lots of buttons and complicated controlling.

But I beat Tetris. Doesn't this mean I should step outside my comfort zone? So I decide, I will play Gears of War with my husband. I'll just learn the controls.

Just. What a crazy word that is. Just. It makes everything seem easy. Just. Learn. The. Controls.

I think I would sooner learn to be a Cirque du Soleil performer than try to get the hang of Gears of War controls. I think I would rather relish the nutritional benefits of eating dirt than learn the Gears of War controls. I think I would rather play nice with a constrictor around my throat than get the hang of Gears of War controls. (you see if a constrictor is around your throat they can feel your heartbeat and will do the constricting part of their name...)

Wuss, you say? Yes. That's me.

Let me explain what playing Gears of War was like for me. Imagine, the world spinning out of control, as if you were drunk. Random shooting at nothing in particular, although the floor seems to merit special interest. The character is moving in the direction he's not looking and when those monster thingies burst through the door on your very first challenge, the character is ducked behind the door to periodically pop up and shoot the floor or the door jamb before being mercilessly ripped apart a scant 2 seconds later.

And repeat.

I was so horrible at it my husband, who was excited at the mere thought of his wife becoming a gamer with him, was scrunched back in the cushions of the couch trying his hardest to be encouraging while being thoroughly befuddled that this deja vu moment was happening for the 15th time.

Oh, I'd be in different spots, but would somehow manage to hit the floor and door jambs perfectly and miss the monster thingies completely, then be taken apart like steak to ravening wolves.

I was able to admire the many varied bloody patches my previous deaths left on the floor.

Honestly, I never made it past that first door. The first challenge of the game left me stumped.

My husband let that one go.

I did enjoy Crackdown, however. My character is Coward Cop, because all I like to do is run around collecting the orbs that let you jump higher and kick the hell out of things. When there is a lot of shooting, I run away. The only time I went ballistic is the time I was at the funhouse circus place and they kept shooting at me. It was annoying. So I shot everyone, collected all the orbs and immediately ran away.

My husband made up a song especially for Coward Cop.

My favourite video game right now is Viva Pinata. I love the game so much, I DVRed the Saturday morning cartoon. It sucked, although I loved the fizzlybear's surfer voice. In the short time we've had the 360, I've played that game to death. It is relaxing, except when the Sours come in and wreck your garden and make the other pinatas sick. I remember the first time I played, I didn't want to kill any pinatas. Now, less than a week later, I whack evil pinatas with relish. I think I just made it to level 40 gardener and found the Dragonache egg.

Gibberish? Yes. Fun? Heck yes!

Now, we have a new game in the arsenal. Guitar Hero 2. Guitar Hero 2 was the main reason my husband wanted the XBox360. He's been playing for 3 hours straight. I hear they are going to put out a Band version as well. My husband suggested I be the singer.

Hah!

Tomorrow, I will play Guitar Hero 2 in the comfort and privacy of my own home while my husband is at work, just so he doesn't hear my mistakes.

Expect nothing less than a Gear of War style debacle as my hands once again refuse to follow what my eyes see. And if I somehow make the Guitar Hero 2 universe reel drunkenly before band members get slaughtered by monster thingies coming out of the ground, I will definitely capture that screen for you.

ESPN Radio

I am addicted to sports talk radio.

Addicted.

It started during football season (I love football), but somehow, it has steamrolled into an everyday obsession. I sometimes enjoy basketball, thought I hadn't liked the NBA for years - until recently when those guys stopped playing like spoiled brats in a gym and started running like men on a hot, outdoor, asphalt court with something to prove.

But I digress.

And not just an ordinary obsession where I want to listen all the time. The kind of obsession that makes other people say "whoa". The kind of obsession where you get angry when, instead of hearing Mike and Mike, you hear Mike and Josh, or Doug and Mike, or The Herd is with John Seibel, not Colin Cowherd.

I need it to be Colin Cowherd!

And I feel left out when I hear a clip from a show I didn't get to listen to. Or I start to muse on the actuality of Reggie Miller and Dan Patrick's relationship.

I want to know it ALL.

But I won't subscribe to ESPN Insider because that's not how I want to spend my money.

Ah well, who knows. Maybe this obsession will only last 6 months, like my country obsession.

Big Wheels Keep On Turning

It is amazing how easy driving is, how easy it is to speed, how easy it is to get into a head exploding tizzy fit when other people don't speed... I got my driver's license when I was 22 years old. Too old to be afraid of speed, but I was. I know, some of you who know me will be amazed. Anyone who has been a passenger has, at one time or another, feared for their lives. When I first started driving, however, I was a Sunday driver everyday. My mom taught me to drive and, being that she is almost exactly like me, was the worst teacher ever. When I drive, my goal is to get to the destination the fastest with the fewest lights. It boggles my mind that other drivers don't think like this. For my mom, her goal was to have as smooth a ride as possible (I think) and that was just not possible with a girl who, when the speedometer got a little on the plus of 25, would kinda start to freak. Freaking meant frequent brake stepping and then speeding back up again. Which would bring more comment from the single peanut in the gallery which would just be sheer torture for me. It was not pretty. It was so bad, I had to get someone else to teach me how to parallel park. My mom is an awesome driver. She can backwards drive like nobody's business (she could take Mater). She's good at parallel parking as well, but can you imagine me, Nervous Nelly, trying to place a big ol' Dodge Caravan between two cars when I didn't have my driving eyes yet, and my mom, aka older, impatient me, was my teacher? No. I learned in a little Honda Civic from a friend at church. Armed with my grit my teeth and bear it approach to learning from my mom and the ease of parallel parking from Jen. A. and my superior day before the test memorization of the driving manual, I was handed a license a mere 6 hours after I'd gotten there. I got to drive home... on the interstate!!! I went over 50 miles per hour for the first time behind the wheel. I wasn't quite doing the speed limit and I was in the fast lane. I apologize. But I was driving on the interstate and that was a big deal. Now, while it's no big deal, I still get a kick out of remembering.

Now, I feel like I drive with my eyes closed. Which should be dangerous, but turns out not to be. Most of my drive I could probably do in my sleep. I take different ways just to spice up the drive. I carefully plan my course like some sort of army sergeant. I have plan B driving paths. I am so anal. But it is a pleasing endeavor. That is where I find joy, getting to my destination with minimal stops and praise be to God if I don't find myself behind someone who thinks it's safer to go 30 miles under the speed limit.

I have to admit, though, since I've gotten married, my husband had been pumping gas for me and I find that I will do anything in my power to not be the one that has to pump the gas. It's a quirk. I've learned to love it.

The other day, I realized, as I sped between Ma and Paw Sunday Driver and Memaw and all the others, that I was much more at ease with speed. I found going 25 so mind numbingly slow that I try my best to always be 10 miles over the limit. I don't fear the ticket. Sometimes, it's worth it for the speed. So I drive every day, the same way with the same destinations in mind and I'm glad that, though driving came late, it did finally show it's face and that makes me happy.

The Little You Know

Right now, I am listening to a girl I used to work with singing on her myspace page. It is myspace.com/ohdorian. I am a big fan of female singer songwriters - Neko Case, Emiliana Torrini, Lucinda Williams, Mindy Smith on occassion - and Oh Dorian has just been added.

Heather Kemp is a little bit of a girl, a fireball in a way, but quiet as well. We worked together and I was her manager. What made it frustrating for her to work with me is that management had not made any official declarations of who would be in charge in the store, only asking me to keep things in line since I was the senior member of the staff. There were little things I was nit-picky about, things that would interrupt busy times and cost money -only cents, I'm sure- but over time a cost that would add up while being completely unnecessary. Because of the nit-picking, we had a strained working relationship although I like Heather a lot. She had her own sense of style, her own way of getting to the heart of things. She took things with a laugh and generally had a smile on her face. She worked hard, which should have been commended, but I was too new to know anything except how to talk about what was going wrong. Outside of work, we were strangers in a sense, the kind that feel that should stop and talk to each other, but at the same time, were eager to get away as soon as the silence reached 2 seconds. I heard that she had begun singing and playing and I wanted to go check her out, but I haven't had the chance. I even delayed listening to her site, even though it was easy to do. For the last couple of weeks, I've seen her everywhere and I guess we've seen each other out of our normal context. I think, in a way, it has been refreshing to each of us because we've had a delight in seeing each other in a way we never had before.

So I decided to hit her site. I was blown away. It just proves how little you know about the people around you, their dreams and aspirations. Her talent is evident. Her voice isn't vampish, as if she wants to claim some title that Brittney Spears left behind. Sometimes it's as clear as a bell, wafting through the air, reverberating through you in waves. Sometimes it's gritty as if what she has to say is too tough and if she didn't have music, she wouldn't be saying it at all. She plays both piano and guitar and each add its own element to the music. She uses the music to give a prelude of the song and her voice is singer and instrument as well, the way the words flow, the way she structures them. She has a song that reminds me of Tori Amos and though I have not always liked Tori Amos, she does the style that I do like from her. She combines her influences, never imitating them dead on, but mixing them in interesting ways. As I sit and listen, I love her voice and I want to hear more.

So many people have talents. I enjoy writing, but there are people who know me, even people who know that I write, who have no idea how hard I have worked and am working to become this elusive thing called Writer. There are people around Heather right now that don't know that she has this talent. She works with them, among them, being normal, chipper. This Friday, I'm going to learn this other side of her, the side called Musician, and if her website is any indication, I will love it.

She plays at 550 Blues at 9pm on Friday March, 9. 550 Blues is on Riverside Drive between MLK and First street.

11

It was 1994, the summer before I went to college. OJ Simpson ruined the basketball playoffs, baseball was talking strikes and football wouldn't start until later that year. There were no good sports on the telly, so I tried a sport I had never looked into. Hockey.

What can I say? I was in the south. Hockey has not made its way to this area. We didn't have an NHL team. We didn't have any area rinks. Truth be told, we were all a little afraid of snow. We had a storm the year before all the 12 incheswe got was enough to make many people thank God that that type of blizzard only happened once every 20 years.

To be fair, I have a history of liking things my fellow southerns could care less about. I was a big fan of soccer. I was number 11, played the left wing position and my coach called me "the angel of death". What can I say, I was aggressive. I was one of six girls on our boys team and I loved it. After OJ took his sweet, ever loving, time driving around his city, right in the middle of the finals and I'm watching him do 10mph while while a small PIP continues b-ball coverage. I think we can all agree, not the same. I had to find something else and the Stanley Cup gave my that something.

I watched the Rangers play for the Stanley Cup. I had no clue what any of it was all about. I didn't know the rules. I just liked it. I always pick a player that I root for and so I picked someone with my number. It was Mark Messier. I didn't know anything about him, his history with the Oilers, his status as a player. I just knew I liked watching him play. He was aggressive and he was fast and his Rangers won that Cup. It was exciting to watch it all.

My family thought I was crazy, but that was okay. I moved to Boston, MA a few months later for school and fell in love with the Boston University hockey team, my home team. As an homage to hockey and to my number, I found a Mark Messier poster. It hung on my wall until it was destroyed during a move. I don't know if I was as much a Messier fan (though he deserved it) as I was paying respect to the person and the number, but I know that watching Messier play set the tone for watching hockey.

In January, the Rangers retired number 11. A few days ago, the Oilers did the same thing. Reading that story made me remember just how much I owe my love of hockey to that number.

Keep On Writing In The Free World

Working and writing is not turning out like I thought it would. I thought, if I am already writing, working in a job that allows me to work around my writing schedule should be easy.

Wrong.

It seems to be harder. And not only does it seem to be harder, but I am getting more ideas for short stories, television scripts, and articles than I can write. And I'm hearing the voices again... just bits of conversation as opposed to full blown stories with plots, but it will come soon.

That sounds crazy.

My husband tells me he always hears music in his head. As a musician, that makes sense. Sometimes I see him move his hands over invisible keys playing the melody. Me, I hear voices. Strangers take up residence in my head and tell me stories. They keep talking, whether I'm asleep or awake. I miss important plot points. I miss deaths and births, but I hear stories. For a long time, it was a constant barrage. Sometimes, they would include people I know and I couldn't remember if it was only a story or if I had actually had this conversation. Usually, it was only a story. Then, different things happened and it was like my brain shut down.

I used Jeopardy to gauge brain activity.

After my brain shut down, I couldn't hear the stories anymore. I would put my hand to paper and walk away blank. Blank page, blank on the inside. I would watch Jeopardy and not know a single question... or if I knew it, could not get it out before the true answer was given. I was working alot, feeling unappreciated at my job, under stress... just in a generally bad way. Then I was given the blessing of pursuing my dream.

Which was more like a nightmare at first.

But as I worked diligently (and for free) just for the opportunity to become a better writer so I could then make the big bucks, I noticed something.

The voices were coming back.

I could play Jeopardy again.

It sounds crazy.

But I missed it, I realized. The first time I woke up to voices and stories, I just listened. They didn't lead me anywhere, but it was comforting. I felt comfortable in my own skin again. Being away from the pressure of that old job was getting rid of an invisible toxin I never knew I had. I am turning back into myself.

Maybe if writing and working wasn't so time consuming and sleep depriving, then it would be perfect. Then again, because I thrive on chaos, maybe it already is.

How Do You Feel?

I did a silly little blog poll today that asked, "Who is the greatest person in the world?" The choices were: Your mother, the Speaker of the House, the guy that invented the Tivo, Mike Bobo, or "W". It is obvious, if you know me, that I picked the Tivo guy. When you made your choice, you see what most people picked. Most people chose their mother and for a split second, I felt guilty for valuing the Tivo guy over my mother. Then I realized my mother doesn't even like TV, much less record shows for me when I don't get to watch them.

When I write, I feel like an armless, legless man with a crayon in his mouth.

Kurt Vonnegut wrote that. That's how I feel all the time. Except my crayon is a nub and I need to remove the paper. Frustrating. I know that I've been paid to write and I keep getting assignments, but I feel more like a fraud than I ever have. As I get closer and closer to my goals, I feel as if I am still so far away. Each success begs to be duplicated and brings its own very different fears. I am overwhelmed. I want to quit everything, just stop it, but the thought of doing that is so gut wrenching, and when I actually sit down to put word to page (or type to screen), I am at home. I don't know why this has to be such a combative process, but then, as Will Smith playing Chris Gardner says, it is the pursuit of happiness. I don't want to work this hard, yet when I do it, I love it. Ah well, let me take this crayon and pretend that my work is not a giant cerulean scribble on the screen of life.