Stil Going but Less Crazy than Last Week

"I want to call Sand and tell him

not much has changed but I watch

more TV now..."

that's a line from one of my favorite pieces in my thesis collection.

and yet, accurately describes my life still. One of our professors used to say that writing is half hard-work and half waiting. And during the waiting you work. Isn't that the truth?

The thing about poetry, about writing in general, is that you get to/ have to dwell in a particular moment. For me, my collection is about absence (death, solitude... I would say loneliness but I'm not lonely... absence is a good word. The lack of people, of communication, the shadows left by people who used to be in my life.) Remaining in that absence is not pleasant to say the least. Being in the space of pain, returning to it, agonizing over its wording is how I spend my days and nights. It's no wonder I don't sleep and self-medicate.

Random, funny thing: maybe 75% (my friend's estimation, not mine) of my middle school youth group are now atheists or at least agnostics. And judging from facebook, the other 25% are fundamentalists but nice-service-project type ones. I think I'm going to stick with my part-of-the-75%-status.

when will you learn i'm always right?

Percy Jackson & the Olympians--funny but semi-unintentionally so. All I have to say is a) there goes the whole Athena Virgin Goddess thing b) The gods are related rather closely, therefore hooking up with other demigods is soooo backwoods.

And the random PJ&tO conclusion I drew: My disability is my sight. Is it possible that I can't see because my eyes are built to see Time & the Turning of the Universe? yeah. I thought so too.

Justified: the weird mother of Claire on "Kidnapped" puts whiskey in her tea. So all I have to say to my junior year screenwriting class: Suck It. Disgusting but people do drink it that way. Suck It.

Shout out to the guy at the comics store who called me Barbara Gordon (as in "Who asked for it? Barbara Gordon over there") props to you sir, for realizing my affinity with Silver Age BG. Boo to the other guys who I had Words With over my Hank Pym love. So I love effed up characters. So what? Let me love who I love. If it's Wanda/Scarlet Witch, Ant Man, Mr. Frost, Wiccan, whoever, so be it. Off my back Steve-Rogers-wannabes.

the woods is the only place i can see a clear path

Here's how it is: I'm on my own. Been that way since the last person I cared for got sick and started dying. Somedays I can't handle that. But somedays I keep going. The wheel never stops turning, as Mal says, and right about now I am a person on the rim. Here we are on the raggedy edge. I've always been independent. Always taken care of me and mine--only now it's just me. I'm not sure what I want to do next. I've got not much money, no advice, no direction, no one around who understand my particular kind of pain truly and... I'm still alive. Take hope in that fellow travelers. We push through the pain, we do what needs to be done. And I need to be doing more doing and less sitting around (unless it's sitting around writing my thesis. that's the good kind of sitting).

Part of my sudden lapse into ramblyness is obvious- Birthday week draws to a close. It began with a fun 80s musical and ended with "Time Stands Still" a serious play about life and what matters and how we deal with tragedy in the world (among other things). Just put me in a more serious mood I guess. Which is good because B-Day being over it's time to get serious. I'm a quarter of a century old for christssake. I want to get this Master's degree and be done. I want... everything and nothing. Change and to be the same, right here in this warm room with my cat.

It's been a good week of birthday-ness. A hard week in some respects. But that was hardly unexpected. And now I press on. The wheel never stops turning.

Day 5 of BDWk

Thursday... a little shopping, a lot of sleep, catching up on podcasts (last 2 Dollhouse Cast eps are epic!), and eating fancy ramen. There we go.

A week of food, relaxation, ignoring real life, and sobbing (which I don't want to get into, but sufficed to say, if you are not parentless & an only child you don't understand the searing pain and loneliness. there are all kinds of pain I can't understand such as being abandoned by a parent or being widowed. but my personal brokenness is a bitch. And it hurts worse this time of year because of my birthday, because I lost a treasured friend earlier last month, and because it's always with me. I love my birthday. But it's hard to love a day that drives home the fact that the people who birthed me are no longer there. Hell, my mom's OBGYN is dead now too. No one is left to remember my birth or me as a child in our 3-person family unit. And that is an aching pain.)

did you know I share my birthday with the guy who played Ethan Rayne on Buffy? And I share birthday week with George A. Romero born Feb 4th (and apparently, according tonights' 30 Rock, Jenna). wacky Aquarian fun.

Day 4 of BDWk

there are six (? ish) people in my apartment cleaning the floors and walls. It's a fun combination of dust and lemon pledge. cat's been good if not a little too interested in the process. held her like a baby for 10 minutes. she's too spoiled. said they were going to come at 9, came instead at 1 and now nearly 2 hours later I'm trapped in a corner of the (tiny) apt hungry and telling them its fine to not move the furniture. because sub-text, i need to do stuff today.

meanwhile, the mystery gift from my aunt and uncle arrived: a down comforter. which is nice and soft and warm but kind of a downer. Is this the kind of gift I can look forward to getting from now on? I'm turning 25, not 60 people. I just bought my weight in comic books, I don't need boring household gifts yet. please. so i'm ungrateful, but no longer cold.

okay, one of them is tenderly wiping the soot/dust from my tiny Mal Reynolds. thank you owners of the building for the post-fire cleaning. it is much appreciated if a little odd to be stuck on a tiny couch eavesdropping on Spanish gossip (at least it's not about me).

So there you have it. a morning of sleeping fully dressed on my couch having oddly vivid dreams, people cleaning around me, and a nice but too grown-up/practical gift.

Now forget me Rose Tyler

"Nice to meet you Rose. Run for your life."

In the midst of the David Tennant nostalgia I'm reminded why I loved Chris Eccelston's 9th Doctor. He was mad and childish and unpredictable and (my favorite bit) quite scary at bits. Remember the first time you watched "Dalek" and there he was all murderous and crazy hissing at the Dalek? I love that part of the Doctor. To me Doctor Who will always be slightly insane and menacing (keep in mind I grew up with my father's re-telling of Tom Baker episodes).

Don't get me wrong, I loved, love, Tennant but I wanted more menace out of him. I can't imagine anyone else as 10 and he is an incredible actor but 9 was so necessary, so great for the relaunch. And I do love that the Doctor is consistently egotistical. Brilliant.

Re-watch season one, especially "Rose" because early Jackie Tyler is hilarious and seeing Rose & Mickey is kind of sweet. I feel bad for Mickey suddenly. From boyfriend to tin dog... And when the Doctor flips (literally) through a book and says "oh sad ending" terrific.

Random note: years from now I will still be trying the whole Rose Tyler tounge & teeth thing and looking not sexy but idiotic. Damn you, Billie Piper!

Random note 2: I have my great-grandfather's pocket watch in a display case on my bookshelf and every time I see it (nearly) I think "some say the soul of a Timelord can be contained in a fob watch." I drank that kool-aid...

Day 3 of BDWk

another (seemingly slow) day that I enjoyed. Got my nails did (Russian Navy because... why not?) and a chair massage because the 5 minute massage that comes with the manicure was not enough. The masseur gave me a horrified look and said "you need 15 more minutes at least." Later he told me I had more tension that Jack Bauer. The massage was horribly painful as all good massages seem to be but after it was over it was great. Then I took a long long walk through NOHO and LES (I keep forgetting how close I am to Astor Place) and ran to Pomme Frittes for non-vegan deliciousness that cancelled out all the good exercise I got walking around. Now I'm back home skipping a reading at school I should have gone to for a night of tv, Dresden Files, and a little Jameson.

And a happy birthday shout out to fellow-Aquarian/Birthday weeker Brent Spiner!!