I ♥ Geeks

...and nerds, dorks and the various other labels associated with people with big, firm, filled to the brim brains. No gook, goo and black stuff for them, they have mathematics to mull over and video games to code!
I married a self proclaimed nerd 3 years ago and have never looked back. He plays Dungeons and Dragons, loves video games and enjoys working mathematics equations (which makes me quiver in terror and delight all at once!) He taught yours truly how to play Magic The Gathering (which I've become quite good at) and we've spent many nights/days just reading in the same room together. My only qualm with him is that he loathes the outdoors, which I love, but I suppose it comes with the territory. You don't get very good internet connection when your hiking and tanning is expressly forbidden when you take the nerd oath (or so he says.) So I'm content to have some things that I do just for me (like being outdoors) and I leave him to his D20's.
Did I mention he played the tuba in band?
*feels all twitterpated*



Here's my nerdy love while gaming...and something has obviously gone amiss.


Now to share a lil something funny since I'm over my middle finger, mediocre Monday blues.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while i porn surfed, weak and weary,
over many a strange and spurious site of 'hot xxx galore'.
While i clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour,
" 'Tis not possible!", i muttered, "give me back my free hardcore!"
quoth the server, 404."

Yarrgggg.

I'm having a middle finger, mediocre Monday. Nothing particularly bad has happened to sour my usually jovial mood aside from the fact that it's a freaking Monday. My vacation is tantalizingly close which, so far, has only served to make me as mean as a three legged dog on a hamster wheel.
I've felt the compelling urge to walk around grimacing like a swarthy pirate and maybe throw in a few "Yarrrgggggsss" for people who ask me how my weekend went. This is how I think the conversation would go...

Unsuspecting co-worker" Hey Crit, how'd the BBQ you had this past weekend go" *insert smile and head cocked slightly to the side*
Evil Marauding Pirate Crit- "Yarrrgggg! *insert eye squint and a voice that sounds like I've taken 3 shots of Everclear straight* You be shuttin' your trap wench or you'll be swimming with the fishes, disguarded NKOTB comeback merchandise and the latest Jessica Simpson movie, Yarrgggg!!!"
Unsuspecting co-worker-"Are you okay Crit? Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" *insert concerned expression and yet another cockatoo-esque head tilt*
Evil Marauding Pirate Crit-"I be warning ya' and your loose lips have sealed your doom much like that of Lindsay Lohan's acting "credibility" after "I Know Who Killed Me" *insert boot to ass, and manical pirate laughter*

Really though, the BBQ was a success, the birthday girl was happy and I have a nice new tan.




My hatred of dance nightclubs was reinforced after being guilted in attempting to stifle my loathing for the sake of KC and promptly having a panic attack amidst an odd array of arabic men and college Greek goons and really fucking loud rap music. I left that hell hole after only 10 minutes. I'm so ready to return to my hole in the wall, pub type places. Someday I hope to find a place just like Moe's (or maybe start my own?)

Time to end my Debbie Downer tirade. Here's hoping for a better Tuesday and the end of my swarthy pirate alter ego. *=-P

Only Michael Jackson Could Make Red Leather, Sequined Gloves and Zombies Look Cohesive

As an artist, I can appreciate the level of commitment Michael Jackson had towards his craft. Like most ridiculously creative famous artists, he had his hangups. Hell, we all have our little "things". I remain skeptical that MJ was a child molester. Unusual, yes. Creepy, sorta, but no more so than a relative you don't see often enough for them to recognize your personal boundaries (i.e. cheek pinching, excessive hugging, etc.) I think the man was so ostresized by his iconic status that his social skills became nill. Hanging out with kids was easier, no pressure (or at least I can see why he would have thought that). Generally kids don't scheme, unless conditioned to do so. I just had to get on my soap box there for a minute.
I'm not a fanatic fan and have no plans to find arrangements to be off of work just to go and place flowers on his star in Hollywood nor will I race to touch the vehicle that will carry his body to it's final resting place. I will not get a MJ tattoo. You get it, I'm just another face among millions that is taking the time to remember Michael Jackson the musician. I'm remeniscing of my childhood and all the songs of his that have become intertwined with those memories.
"Thriller" is one of the best songs/videos in the history of pop culture.
"Billy Jean" can make just about anyone's hips gyrate.
Here's to a life well spent, songs well written and one helluva signature dance move.
Rest in piece Michael, sequined gloves will never quite be the same.
*best read when listening to Michael Jackson's "Heaven Can Wait"

In your heaaaaddddd...zombieeeesss.....*insert Cranberries song here*

For the last three weeks I've had various dreams all with one central theme....zombie apocalypse.
Although I'm an avid movie goer with a special place in my heart reserved solely for the "horror" genre, I haven't watched zombie cinema that was worth a damn since Shaun of the Dead.
Anyway, my dreams have been pretty flippin' realistic. I've woken up at least once a night since the dreams started even when taking melatonin (which helps combat my insomniac tendencies) with a cold sweat and much elevated heart beat.
It's times like this that I wish I had a gypsy, psychic, dream interpreter-ish friend to ask what the significance is in watching my parents get mauled by zombies or watching myself lop off zombie heads via a motorcycle I wish I had, or lead a group of nomadic survivors from one location to the next while looking for a can of pineapples to complete a zombie cure (or if they're anything like ham, a great way to baste one!) I always knew pineapple was a wonder fruit.

Zombie's have been on my mind (brraaaaiinnnnnsss!!??) so often lately that I actually had an honest to God discussion with a friend of mine on why zombie's are always thought of as brain eaters. That idea didn't come from the zombie that first orginiated in voodoo culture, they were just people that bugged the shit out of their family and friends enough that said family and friends would consult with a bokor (a fancy schmancy term for socerer) to have "annoying persons" light switch" turned off. In other words, they went and got themselves zombiefied ( I can think of several applications where this would be handy in my own everyday life but have yet to meet a bokur in KY suburbia.) And how, pray tell, are said brain dead zombie creatures supposed to get to our brains anyhow? Our skulls are pretty freaking tough...and zombies, well traditional zombies, are pretty fucking stupid. You don't get super powers when you join the ranks of the undead...so how the hell are zombies supposed to be able to just chew thru the human skull? If you don't count "Dawn of the Dead" zombies aren't capable of using power tools (or in that movie operating rifles and sawed off shot guns)....
Ahhh...this is were my thoughts have been as of late. No working on the cure of cancer or writing the great American novel for moi...I've got zombie's on the brain.

In other news, I'm hosting a BBQ for Kaycie's 27th birthday this weekend. She's neurotic enough to want to host the party a week in advance just to bypass July 4th shennanigans. When I say host, I just mean I'm relaying the message to everyone we know. She's the only person I know that plans their own birthday gatherings, her requirements are that specific. The night is going to include going to a new local nightclub, the Bakers 360 lounge in downtown Lex (which is thankfully only about 2 miles away from my house.) The place looks kind of pretentious (whereas I prefer dives, pubs, taverns, things of a more low key nature) but I'll go for the sake of my friend. Yarrrg. I'll be sure to let ya'll know if that went over like a lead balloon or not.
Welp, it's about time I head out and get some festive do dads for the party.
Remember, in case of a zombie apocalypse...*best when listening to Rob Zombie's "Living Dead Girl"*

Madame, You Must Eradicate Your Weeds

How do everyone! My, my, my what a weekend this has been! (can't you tell by all the exclamation marks?)
My weekend started Friday night with an impromptu invitation and acceptance by yours truly to go and watch a friends husbands friends band play immediately after work. Since I wasn't in the mood to veg out and watch the re-make of Friday the 13th (I'm still nervous to watch it as I've heard quite a few "mediocre" reviews and I'm a die hard horror fan) I slapped on some war paint and commenced to paint the town red with friends (okay, maybe not red, but at least a fuchsia color.) I was told this band was a Tool cover band but soon found out they were a really bad mimic of Clutch and Queens of the Stoneage (both bands I enjoy normally.) The lead singer of the group was trying way too hard to stand out in appearance (I'm assuming because his singing abilities were sub par) and was wearing fishnets on his hands, a weird looking grandma skirt (not a cool kilt like Jonathan Davis from Korn) and some pink and black striped tights that I'm quite certain he picked up from the ladies section at Hot Topic. After about an hour of listening to him scream and strut like a peacock on crystal meth, I bid adieu to my poor friend who's husband was insisting they stay and finish out the performance. I met two other friends at a local tavern to wrap up the stifling humid night with some cold drinks and a long discussion about tattoo's we wish to get in the future.

My friend Jason watching the band and trying not to noticeably cringe. We listen to a lot of live music and this was waaaay on the bottom.


Saturday morning I wake up and check the mail like a good little suburban housewife and find a letter from our neighborhood association. Hmmm....seems interesting so I open it immediately to see why the powers that be of Masterson Station had sent us a letter. It turns out our flower bed "did not meet neighborhood standards" and we had "many weeds that needed to be "eradicated". I look out the window at our bed and do notice a couple of blades of grass poking up through the lava rock but nothing like the botanical garden that is indicated in the letter. When I think of the word "eradicated" I think of ensuing in battle with an unstoppable rebel force and striking them down without mercy. Telling me to "eradicate" my "weeds" just seemed a little dramatic but I suppose it is on the top of the list of "thou shalt not's" for the old turds that run the neighborhood association and have nothing better to do with their time or printer ink. You'll be happy to know I "eradicated" the hell out those weeds and took no prisoners.
Later that night I went in to spend some time with the pooches and drink some tasty adult beverages. For some reason unbeknownst to me my rat terrier/chihuahua mix Peanut and my friends Siberian Husky, Emma (kind of like David and Goliath) get into a UFC style fighting match that took me, my friend KC and 5 full minutes to get them apart. Peanut, who was taking the brunt of the beating since she is so much smaller, went on to latch onto Emma's ass as we were pulling Emma off of her and didn't let go until I picked her up and pried her little mouth off of Emma's furry behind. Upon further inspection after both parties settled down I noticed that Peanut had a gash in her ear and a puncture wound in her cheek. When it comes to my dogs, I'm quite the mother hen so I was pretty distressed to find that my furry, four legged companion was injured. In fact, I started sobbing like a 6 year old who discovered that she/he had only been given clothes on Christmas morning, but managed to Google dog wound care and follow procedures to ensure that her wound would not get infected (it's looking much better today and is healing quite nicely.)

Sunday the hubby and I watched "Year One" with Jack Black and Michael Cera, two actors whose movies usually bring me great satisfaction. Unfortunately, Year One was pretty mediocre with scenes here and there that were funny (usually the ones they used in the trailer.) The best part was a preview for the upcoming rock and sock 'em, blow their brains out, ass kickin' Woody Harrelson movie "ZombieLand".

Well, I'm finally watching Friday the 13th, so I'm off to give it a thumbs up or the finger. Ciao!
*best read when listening to Kings of Leon's "Closer"*

From Where I'm Sitting

From where I'm sitting I can see two dogs running around like the devil was chasin' 'em with a red hot poker when actually they're just happy to be alive, together and well fed.
From where I'm sitting I watch said dogs chew happily on the foot of another animal (cow hoof) oblivious to how right or wrong it is for them to be entertained/joyful about chewing on the mode of transportation of another creature. I am not immune to the comedies/tragedies of everyday life or how fine a line exists between those two very different realities. I work five days a week for a "better life". I work for the weekends, those two out of 7 of my life when I am rarely expected to be anything other than another person throwing money into the commercial, economic war- machine that is American society. I am corrupted by the very things I enjoy. I make a choice everyday to continue as I am or rebel against this life I've made for myself.
From where I'm sitting I see my lawn freshly mowed by the hand of someone I've never met. My lawn is someone's job. Is this the American dream?
From where I'm sitting I can see a life that is mine, good or bad. I stretch my toes and relish my right to paint them whatever whacky color that comes to mind. Today they are a sultry red, nothing fancy, nothing too funky, but vibrant and alive. Maybe I'll change the color or maybe I'll wait until it's chipped and faded because I tell myself I'm too busy to fix it.
The best part about where I am sitting is that should I choose, I can sit somewhere else.
No wait.
I can stand somewhere else. Because the problem isn't with what I'm seeing but how I'm seeing it. I live a life seen through many angles and am all the better for it.
"Change is inevitable. Except from a vending machine."
*best read when listening to Band of Horses sing "The Funeral". *

Ciao!

That Meredith Brooks Gal Must Have Met Me In the Summertime

Tonight as I was driving home, singing GNR's "Sweet Child of Mine" with great enthusiasm (as I am quite the rock star within' the confines of my own car) I noticed my first lightning bug of the season. It was then I realized that it is officially summertime in the bluegrass state. I have mixed feelings about the summer. Actually, I'm not a "summer" person. I don't like the stifling heat and humidity that seem to go hand in hand during the summer in Kentucky. I definitely don't like the severe storms (until recently I had a such a fear of storms that I would cower in my bathtub with a flashlight, a bottle of water and my cell phone whenever a tornado watch was issued), or at least storms that could potentially produce winds strong enough to rip my freaking house out of the ground. I despise being hot. I know most people don't relish it, but I loathe being overheated. I become a cranky, foul-mouthed, golum whenever the temperature gets over 85 and I'm forced to be out and about. The only cure is to get me to a large body of water and let me splash around. If I have access to a pool, a lake (maybe one day the ocean?) then I don't mind the hot days.
I'm a moody bitch.
I spend a lot more time out and about at night during the summer. I suppose you could say I'm a summertime vampire.
Just thinking about this time of the year makes me yearn for patios, bbq's, ice cold beers/drinks and good friends. Maybe not at my house so much this year because the cleanup of said get togethers is just too much of a hassle during a hangover. This summer I want to be the annoying person that leaves beer bottles just laying randomly around, without a coaster (I know this is such a "woman" complaint, but how hard is it really to move your fucking beer 2 inches and put it on the huge coaster right in front of you?hmmmmmm!?) for someone else to clean up.
I'm tentatively making plans to visit Chicago for the first time next month. I have a good friend who lives just a few minutes away from downtown and is offering me a free place to stay for a few days. I've passed up the opportunity about 5 times now so evidently the 6th times a charm.
I think I'm going to go and Google things to do on my trip. If ya'll have any ideas, comments or piercing critical insights, lemme know.

Ciao!

Monday's Are Not The Devil After All

Stop the presses, baton down the hatches, I just participated in something unnatural that I just had to share via this blog.
Are you ready?
Just take a minute to prepare yourself.


I had a good Monday.!!!! I know, it seems like quite an oxymoron but it's true! After my absolutely tragic Friday and a mediocre Saturday followed by a mind numbingly pathetic Sunday spent cleaning, Monday came in just in time to salvage my three day weekend. Don't ya' just love surprises like that?
I finally got some things finished around the house that I've been putting off...well, since we moved in last May. I feel a deep sense of satisfaction now when I walk by our office and see that my old HP desktop has been placed in a nice retirement home (aka closet) and that wiring of the television, X-Box, DVD player, and cable box are now tactfully concealed (why don't we have wireless everything by now anyway?!)
My sister is in Lexington for business and I finally got to show her where I hang my hat (or would be if I had been wearing a hat today). Normally, my husband and I are quite nomadic. Even before our nuptials I moved regularly, every year just like clockwork. My sister hadn't seen my living quarters in over 3 years. She lives in TN, pretty close to Gatlinburg so it's a pretty decent drive for her to head this far "north" (still makes me laugh when she calls me a yankee) especially with a 3 year old and a 11 month old so it's usually just easier for me (who is childless unless you count the four-legged variety) to just visit her. It was strange seeing her without the kids, as I love them like a fat kid loves cake, but it was also nice to get qt time with my lil sis. We went out to eat and laughed about things I hadn't thought of in a long time. It's so rejuvenating to be around people who have known you, good and bad, your entire life. Here' s a picture of sis eating (I'm sure she'd love to know I posted this for all to see.)














Over the weekend I had a really bad experience at Wal-Mart trying to return a set of Phillips Magnavox laptop speakers I had bought a couple of weeks ago that stopped working properly after one day. The customer service associate might as well have been taking my mugshot and accusing me of grand larsony, so "immense" was her customer servicing abilities (please tell me you picked up on the sarcasm!?). So I didn't have my receipt, I know from personal experience (i.e. five years of working for the company) that Wal-Mart will take anything just short of used diapers and that heffer was telling me there was no way they could take back 2 week old speakers? I call bullshit. The didn't even check the box, or my ID. I left feeling frustrated and irritated.
Tonight I took the speakers to a Wal-Mart on the other side of town and had a gift card with the balance of the speakers on it after about 2 seconds. The only question I was asked was if they worked or not (not) and then, click, clack, thank you very much. This was the power of my mysteriously good Monday.
After dropping my exhausted sister back off at her hotel, Dan and I went to watch "The Hangover". What an incredibly funny movie! I'm not one to watch and tell so you'll just have to believe me when I say it's well worth the movie admission.
Now my night is wrapping up with a little DWF (doggie wrestling federation) between Emma (the siberian husky) and Buddy (the minature cattle dog). What better way to go to sleep than with a smile from four legged shenanigans? Oh sweet Monday, thou was kind to me today.

Mrs. Saturday Night Special

It's Saturday night which is a night of drinks with friends and social gatherings for most. Tonight, for yours truly, it means putting on my sweats, dusting of my Lord of the Rings trilogy (with the Hobbit prequel to begin production next year sometime I just discovered!) and settling in for a night spent avoiding doing laundry, playing with my pups and maybe dipping into my stash of Edy's Fully Loaded Choclate Waffle Cone ice cream (insert zombiesque drooling here.)
Instead of longing to be out and hustling about, knocking back a few brewskies and laughing at the general buffoonery that occurs when large groups of people gather in tiny spaces (i.e. bars) and consume large amounts of alcohol, I am quite happy to be cozied up in my own little piece-o-the-pie and relaxing. Don't get me wrong, I still like drinking (but it's a bit more refined these days) and I adore spending time with friends I don't get to see often enough, but nights like this don't make me restless the way they once did.
I like nights were I can reflect or just zone out and slow down. I am so sick to death with fast this, quick that, one hour there...all the instant gratification and half assed rushing.
Needless to say I'm relishing this time. The only thing I wish I had done was pick up a bottle of wine to help me slip into my slow-down-Saturday-stupor.
Yesterday was a truly shitty Friday. I do assisted living for individuals with varying degree's of mental retardation (and a plethora of other mental conditions) which often times involves cleaning up every bodily fluid imaginable. Yesterday's output was times about a 100.
On top of that my husbands ever so "wonderful" cat, Spookshow Baby, knocked my brand new cell phone into a sink full of dishwater.


Snap.
Crackle.
Pop.
That is the sound a $50 insurance premium being tacked onto my next months phone bill. I am convinced that cat is Hitler re-incarnated.

So tonight is glorious in all of it's boring glory.
Uh oh...Gandalf is about to throw down with Balrog. I gotta' go get my geek on.

Later lovelies!

Music is Food for the Soul

First and foremost let me start off by saying that I was not gifted with any special musical abilities. I have no idea how to play any instruments other than air guitar, which I rock at. If you laid sheet music in front of me it would be the equivalent of asking me to interpret heiroglyphics, it just ain't gonna' happen. I took the mandatory music classes and fizzled my way through them somehow but playing an instrument just never clicked with me. Most of my friends were "band" kids. I'm now married to a former tuba player. I can only think of two of my friends who are just as musically illiterate as myself and I have alotta friends.
It's not like I'm not drawn to music.
Au contrar.
I'm quite the music fanatic. I can appreciate the musical stylings of just about any genre. I listen to music for about 4 hours on any given day. When I'm in the car, the stereo is on. When I'm on my computer I have music playing (right now I'm listening to an indie artist known as Santigold).
When I'm in the shower I bring my MP3 player docking station in and listen while I soap up. You get it. I realllllllly love music.
Music enables us to express ourselves even if we aren't strumming the guitar or belting out mind melting vocals. A song can unlock a memory, lyrics can drive home a thought we've been tossing around for days, a rhythm can bring us out of a funk thats had us hiding out in our houses for days.
Music feeds our souls. It helps us capture a moment, a mood, a lifetime. Can you imagine a sporting event without ACDC's "Thunderstruck"? A wedding without Frank Sinatra's "The Way You Look Tonight"? A mosh pit without the Dropkick Murphy's "Johnny I Hardly Knew Ye"?
An 80's dance party without Def Leppard's "Pour Some Sugar On Me?" It just would not be the same.
It's 1:30 a.m.
What else would I be doing if not listening to music at nearly 2 .m.? Would I be half as inspired if Dave Mathhews Band was not crooning "Love of my Life" to me at this very moment? I think not.

As I age my vision can fade. My sense of taste can dull. My sense of smell is already kaput.
Just spare my ears Father Time. Without them, I do not think I could bare this world.

Snapshots

Once upon a time, I worked for Wal-Mart, that superstore conglomerate that makes billions of dollars a year and refuses to provide adequate benefits to it's employees that put up with every degree of stupidity the world has to offer (can you tell I didn't carry many happy memories away from the five years of my life I gave to them?) In spite of leaving with an anxiety disorder and a much lowered opinion of the general public, my time spent there was not all threats and snotty remarks.
The first four years I spent there, I worked in the one hour photo center.As I developed the photo's of others I developed my own love for photography. Like everyone I worked with I became enamoured by the photography process and decided I could do better than the average Joe Camera with a little practice . I bought a Nikon N75 SLR (it uses film and not a memory card) and went about testing my creative ability by taking pictures of anything and everything. I spent many afternoons just driving around snapping pictures that I then took to work and developed and edited in the lab. I loved having free reign during our down time to work on my own photo's. This was the time before the current reich and employees at Wal-Mart had considerably more freedom ( we didn't have a strict dress code, we didn't get fired for being late, and we sure as shit didn't have . My photo's were often used for in store promotions, particularly when I volunteered with the Madison County animal shelter and took photo's of the dogs/cats available for adoption and used those photo's on the labs greeting cards. This helped out the sales of the cards and also helped many dogs/cats find forever homes (before the store got a new manager who didn't like the "clutter" of the promotion and discontinued it, heartless bastard.)
I have had one published photo. I have never sold a print (I've never tried).
I take photo's because I like capturing something brillaint on film. Time machines may not yet exist, but we do have our ways of preserving a point in time, of capturing a moment of time to share for years to come.
I haven't been taking many photo's lately but I hope to change that this summer. Film is hella expensive to develop (you buy the film and process the film unlike it's digital counterpart.) I did have a digital camera for general snapshots but it doesn't touch the picture quality of my SLR even before I dropped and broke it as a drunken casualty of my last Halloween party. If I had about $700 laying around I'm sure I could get a comparable digital SLR (something perhaps to consider in the future but for now is out of the question.) but for now the Nikon will have to do.
Perhaps in a future blog I will post more than 1 or 2 of my photo's to get some feedback. Unfortunately they are all still stored on my old computer and I've been too lackluster and lazy to transfer them to my nifty new laptop. I also have several rolls of negatives I need to have transferred to CD of various trips to New Orleans, pets, portraits I've done for friends and loved ones and even my sisters wedding.
I'm off to dust off my lens and get ta' snapping. Ciao!

The published photo titled "Butterflies Do Dream"


I call this "A Vampires Nightmare"

"Give Mother Earth a Hand"

"Doing the Cha Cha On My Heart"

Looking Back

Tonight was my ten year high school class reunion and I totally skipped it.
I didn't skip because there wouldn't be anyone there I liked, because several of my good friends from the past (many of whom are still my good friends.)
I didn't skip because I was fearful of not appearing successful or pretty enough in comparison to the rest of our graduating class as I'm quite happy and proud of who I am and where I am at this point in the hopefully long journey of my life.
I didn't skip because it was too far away.
I didn't skip because I hated high school (I was lucky to have lots of good times with lots of really great people over those 4 years.)
I skipped because it didn't feel like something I needed. I know, it sounds odd but it's really the main reason that I'm sitting here typing this blog instead of hanging out with friends at our old stomping grounds.
Sure it would have been nice to see everyone as I'm naturally inquisitive. I'm sure I would have had a good time laughing good heartedly as countless stories of yore were spun about the room in voices I hadn't heard talking together in ten years. When it came down to it, when I asked myself "is this something you want to do?" I felt very nonchalant. If you had asked me 10 years ago if I would attend my ten year reunion I would have emphatically said yes.
I skipped because I know in my heart that the people that are supposed to be in my life are. I think it would have to be exhausting to repeat the same schpill about 30 times tonight. Actually I know it would have been because I have to repeat myself regularly at work. Maybe I sound like a queen "B" or that I'm knocking anyone who enjoys/enjoyed their class reunion. Absolutely not. It's just not "my thing".
I remember so many things. I remember laughing so much during highschool. I remember thinking Steven Estep was a muse sent to inspire a love of English in anyone willing to listen to how passionately he loved Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice. I remember playing Egyptian rat screw in the library with Jonathan, Penny, Chanda, Gail, Jamie, Jo and whoever else wandered by with nothing particular to do.
I can't imagine being in that building and not seeing the usual suspects. Under 30 people RSVP'ed out of a class of 80 or 90. How strange it would be to not hear those voices but to hear others.
I'm nostalgic tonight and as I drift off to sleep I will wish everyone from the ACHS graduating class of '99 all the best.

A Case of the Monday's.

I didn't win the lottey tonight even though I thought it would be in the cosmic order of things for my ultimately shitty day to be rectified with millions upon millions of dollars.

It was a long day filled with moments of me asking myself "why am I doing this", "why is this happening", "how did I get here?" . A day that at the end of it you wish you had a jacuzzi, some blackberry wine and an imminent vacation to distract you from the sour feeling in the pit of your stomach and the aches in your muscles.

I work with elderly people daily. It isn't a nursing home, but it is an assisted living program for individuals with various degrees of mental retardation and a plethora of other mental illnesses. Most days, I love what I do. I love that I get the opportunity to help enrich the lives of this incredibly special popuplation of indviduals. I love the people I take care of, I love hearing that all the small things that I do on a daily basis are appreciated and noted. Who doesn't love to have their ego stroked now and again? As human beings it's a driving factor to be "needed". It's motivating to be complimented.

But it's also very human to feel beat down in spite of all of the upsides on days when you feel like an american turned loose on European roadways for the first time. Your doing exactly what you would be doing on most days of your life, but somehow it's all wrong.

It's terrifying to watch people get old and break down. To watch people normally filled with vitality fade away and become husks of their former selves. Someone dear to me that I take care of is just like that....and it plucks at my already super sensitive heart strings.

I need a vacation, some time away to do some living. To paint, to express all of these things that are churning and turning inside of me. To relax and let go of all the baggage I'm carrying around from work. To worry about what it is that I want to do, to put myself first and not feel guilty about that.

I'm tired. I'm emotionally drained. I have a case of the Monday's.

Sometimes we have to just delve into the darker sides of ourselves. Sometimes we have to feel sad, to mourn , to be angry and lost so that we can move forward with a better grasp of our limitations. Without that expression, we stunt our own emotional growth.

Don't be afraid to FEEL! It's when you stop caring, when you stop getting angry and hurt that you can be concerned for yourself.

Just breathe and endure.

“Endurance is nobler than strength and patience than beauty.”- John Ruskin

The Weekend Recap

It's Monday and I thought what better way to start the day than by reviewing the fun things I partook of during the weekend before the bitter work related nonsense of the average Monday corrupts my memories.
Originally my friend KC and I were supposed to go to the Hell City Tattoo Festival in Columbus, OH with my friend Jason. Life happened and we could not make it so I ended up spending a lot of time getting to know my own "backyard", i.e. the area surrounding my home. I also spent some time in my old stomping grounds of south east KY visiting with my family and acting silly with my young niece and nephew (ages 3 and 11 months).
Last week was a four day work week for most and I was no exception. I might have worked on Monday but I was off on Friday and set off on a three hour road trip to Garrett, KY with my faithful companion and husband being kind enough to drive while I fiddled with the radio, snapped random camera phone photo's with our three dogs in tow. I have seen very few things to rival the natural beauty of Kentucky in the spring time. Having grown up in the bluegrass state I often take for granted the plethora of flora at our disposal but this weekend I was tuned in and my eyes were fixed and ready to drink it all in.
We spent several hours just talking, hugging and laughing with family before making our way back up to Lexington that Friday night.
Saturday we overslept and missed out on the Farmers Market by about 30 minutes. Since we were already downtown we decided to take a stroll and get to know some of the local businesses. I had no idea that most of the shops and restaurants downtown closed around 3 pm (which coincided with the closing of the Farmers Market) so we did a lot of window shopping and general goofing off. That night Daniel and I decided to try out a "new to us" pizza place over in the Hamburg shopping plaza called "Old Chicago". Their claim to fame was the large number of beers they served (over 110 brews with over 30 on tap!), which we didn't get to try out since it was just the two of us and it wasn't fair for one to get to drink while the other just sort of sat around and watched, so we ordered a Chicago style pizza and some soft drinks.
Oh.
My.
God.
That was THE best pizza I have ever had the pleasure of eating! Nice crispy crust (even on the bottom which shocked the bejeebies outta me), fantastic sauce and fresh ingredients came together to create the perfect pizza! I'm dead serious, if your ever in town visiting or if you have an Old Chicago near you that you haven't tried yet, DO IT!
To end the night we bought a bottle of a local vineyards ( Acres of Land) Concord grape wine and settled in for the night watching the CW's "Supernatural" season 3 on DVD ( love that show!)
Sunday was spent outdoors about 90% of the time. KC and I took our dogs to the Masterson Station dog park for a couple of hours and just let them run around while we took the opportunity to get in a little exercise of our own by walking laps around the 6 acre, fenced in park. After dropping off our 4 drooly mouthed furry family members we picked up one slightly less furry Daniel and made our way the Yuko En Japanese friendship garden of Georgetown, KY (which is only about 8 miles away from our home here on the north side of Lexington.) I was expecting something a little more...well more, but thought the concept of the garden was nice (even if the potential was not yet fully realized.) There were lots of fun moments of walking about, communing with mother nature all the usual hippie stuff that helps me center myself.
The weekend was wrapped up with a mini cookout (just some fat free weiners and roasted potatos) while watching the MTV movie awards (just because Andy Samberg was hosting AND they had some pretty cool clips of upcoming movies I was to see.) On a negative note it was revealed what a total douche Eminem really is after a mishap stunt were Sascha Cohen (aka Borat, AKA Ali G, AKA Bruno last night) landed on his lap ass first (minus pants) on Eminem's face. The rapper best known for supposedly having a sense of humor at least when it's at the expense of others, stormed out of the ceremony entourage in tow red faced and cursing. Will the real Slim Shady, please grow up, please grow up?

Well that was my weekend in a nutshell. It might not have been what I had planned, but it was certainly fun! Here's hoping the week goes well.
Ciao!