(no subject)

Happy Chanukah everyone!

We didn't do the first night. Yes, we're lame. I think we're going to do Chanukah tonight though.

I'm really tired. I really really hope we can get the kids to bed early tonight. I have homework to do for I2G still. I don't really want to do it, but we could use the extra money, and it's not bad work. I just can't make myself care about any products right now.

I ate too much chocolate today. I'm suffering from that particular malady that affects women of childbearing years who aren't pregnant once a lunar month. Usually it's barely a blip on my radar, but this month has been different for some reason.

I'll spare much detail for the easily squicked. I'm just feeling not-my-usual-self physically speaking.

I want hugs. Lots and lots of hugs. And a hot bath. And hot tea. And sleep. In that order.

Perhaps a heating pad in strategic places as well. :-D

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random play

Sitting here listening to my new iPod, contemplating boneless chicken, or rather, the absence of any desire to contemplate boneless chicken, even when such contemplation could result in about $35/hr.

Life is bizarre; there are times when that oddity crashes into me full-force, like a wave breaking overhead.

If not for my occasional-but-not-really-often-enough-to-be-considered-a-part-time job, or at least, the training for said job, I wouldn't be here.

Oh, of course, I would be here, here in this house probably, here on this planet most definitely.

But I wouldn't be here, you know, here in this white space. This pseudo-page. Peregrine would exist, most certainly. (How could Peregrine not exist? ;-) )

My typing here is based solely upon the chance comment of a then-stranger at orientation for a potential job. The chance of acting on those words, the chance of going to the training, the chance of choosing to reveal myself, the chance of going onto FM, the chance of meeting folks there. And now...here I am, there I am, everywhere a Peregrine.

So tenuous as to invite the willful suspension of belief, these invisible threads linking us to each other. Behind my resistance to writing of bras and boneless chicken lies the mystery of connection. Without such blatant consumerism, without a friend who works at that company, without marks with number 2 pencils, without analogies, without brief attempts at conversation...well, I'm someplace else now.

Not here, typing this.

Not with the support of a lot of you who I talk to daily and consider friends. Not with the two of you I met there.

If I keep typing, maybe it will all make sense to me.

If not, well there's always ideation homework to do.

If you don't understand this, don't worry. You probably don't need to. :-)

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live or memorex, part 2

I wrote a post on connection just a few hours ago, but now I feel endlessly alone.

Sometimes I wish I fit in more with the moms at preschool. I think about who I talk to online, and for the most part, it's a bunch of techie guys. I don't know if any of you would actually be my friend in real life. I don't know that I would ever talk with any of my real life friends online, either. I don't know if I have any friends, period. I don't know which is my 'real' life.

I'm sitting here trying to develop wishes about boneless chicken. I don't care about boneless chicken. I care about poetry, about placing my heart on the page. I care about mystery, uncovering the unknown. I care about creativity, pushing myself to learn and grow.

I don't want to settle for being ordinary, mediocre. But haven't I already?

I wish I had some wisdom. I think I think if I keep writing something will materialize, but nothing does. Just more angst for you to skip over, the way I would, if I were flipping through this on a friends page. (Who needs more of someone else's problems? Our own keep us busy enough.)

I wish that I had a niche to fit into. I wish I knew what I want to do when I grow up. I wish I still had that feeling of being popular online. I wish I could have more heartfelt conversations. I wish I could trust in something larger than myself. I wish I felt stronger. I wish I felt loved. I wish I felt well, whole, together.

Not one of my wishes, my true wishes, involve boneless fucking chicken.

I may never eat it again, just on principle.

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