I thought his weeks of silence were a dismissal,
and had filed it as a life lesson in my mind.
He IMed me, just out of the blue.
In shock and surprise, I am afraid to say anything.
I fear I will say something foolish, so I keep my answers short.
My heart is aching; I want to know why he is back.
I missed him, but I cannot say it - pride will not allow me.
So here we sit, saying nothing while I weep.
He is drunk, he is explaining, he is touching me once again.
Softly playful, he brings me into his circle, charming me.
I feel the embers in my heart glow brighter with his breeze,
my cheeks flame in shame at being won again so easily.
(update - I am currently in run away mode, so don't worry about me)
Friday, April 25, 2003
FYI: I haven't abandoned gnomiinfo - I have expanded. My shy little experiment is growing. The main page is at http://loliinspired.blogspot.com
I needed a place to post my portfolio, resume, and have a public presence, because I am trying to change my career direction. I have had enough of making the best of jobs that offer no lasting satisfaction. I want to do something that I can be proud of, that I also enjoy just doing. I am learning about writing code with these sites; I believe that it is a necessary skill for me to make things happen. Where will I end up? With me, it's hard to call. But I think that it will involve writing, photograpy, websites, and of course, my friends.
It looks as if the bike trip is off (for now) because I have work obligations through mid July, and I am trying for a kick butt awesome one right after that (so cross your fingers for me.)
There is a link to this page from loli, inspired. I want to preserve gnomiinfo as my little refuge to bare my soul when I feel it needs freshening. I think it will be safe enough, because I know nobody clicks on the site page links, unless they are looking for something specific. So, if the notion strikes you, check the Allowed to breathe link every now and then. I'll still be here, practicing my breathing.
Thank you for helping me believe I could do this, my treasured five readers. Hugs & smooches!
I needed a place to post my portfolio, resume, and have a public presence, because I am trying to change my career direction. I have had enough of making the best of jobs that offer no lasting satisfaction. I want to do something that I can be proud of, that I also enjoy just doing. I am learning about writing code with these sites; I believe that it is a necessary skill for me to make things happen. Where will I end up? With me, it's hard to call. But I think that it will involve writing, photograpy, websites, and of course, my friends.
It looks as if the bike trip is off (for now) because I have work obligations through mid July, and I am trying for a kick butt awesome one right after that (so cross your fingers for me.)
There is a link to this page from loli, inspired. I want to preserve gnomiinfo as my little refuge to bare my soul when I feel it needs freshening. I think it will be safe enough, because I know nobody clicks on the site page links, unless they are looking for something specific. So, if the notion strikes you, check the Allowed to breathe link every now and then. I'll still be here, practicing my breathing.
Thank you for helping me believe I could do this, my treasured five readers. Hugs & smooches!
Wednesday, April 16, 2003
hopeless Having no hope; despairing, bleak. Incurable. Having no possibility of solution; impossible.
romantic Given to thoughts or feelings of romance. Imaginative but impractical; visionary.
Ouch.
Several months ago, I was called a hopeless romantic by someone whose opinion I value very much. Being a habitual optimist, I figured it was meant in a good way, and skipped off to another subject. But the term stayed in my mind, because it stung a little.
So, I was doing my usual morning blog crawl (It's like a pub crawl - you start out with a rough idea of where you are going, but then hook up with friends, so you never know for sure where you will end up.) and followed links to Quizilla where I encountered the phrase applied to me again:
Romantic movie! You probably won't star in a porno
anytime soon. You seem to be really into the
whole "love" thing...romantic sex
with perfumed sheets and candles all over the
place. You're probably a hopeless romantic. You
value sex and respect your partner too much to
do anything like porn. AWWWWWW! <3
What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla
The thing that bothers me is the 'hopeless' part. I admit that I am a romantic. I love flowers, the sound of rain, and sunsets. I get sentimental attachments to (sometimes odd) things that instill fond memories. To me, an ideal date is cooking dinner together, going for an evening stroll, then parking on the couch to watch a movie and be silly. I'm not in denial, or chasing an impossible dream. I know very well life can be disappointing; but I also know it can be sweet. I believe that true love does exist. If anything, I am full of hope.
romantic Given to thoughts or feelings of romance. Imaginative but impractical; visionary.
Ouch.
Several months ago, I was called a hopeless romantic by someone whose opinion I value very much. Being a habitual optimist, I figured it was meant in a good way, and skipped off to another subject. But the term stayed in my mind, because it stung a little.
So, I was doing my usual morning blog crawl (It's like a pub crawl - you start out with a rough idea of where you are going, but then hook up with friends, so you never know for sure where you will end up.) and followed links to Quizilla where I encountered the phrase applied to me again:
Romantic movie! You probably won't star in a porno
anytime soon. You seem to be really into the
whole "love" thing...romantic sex
with perfumed sheets and candles all over the
place. You're probably a hopeless romantic. You
value sex and respect your partner too much to
do anything like porn. AWWWWWW! <3
What kind of porno would you star in?
brought to you by Quizilla
The thing that bothers me is the 'hopeless' part. I admit that I am a romantic. I love flowers, the sound of rain, and sunsets. I get sentimental attachments to (sometimes odd) things that instill fond memories. To me, an ideal date is cooking dinner together, going for an evening stroll, then parking on the couch to watch a movie and be silly. I'm not in denial, or chasing an impossible dream. I know very well life can be disappointing; but I also know it can be sweet. I believe that true love does exist. If anything, I am full of hope.
Tuesday, April 15, 2003
lollygag To waste time by puttering aimlessly; dawdle. [Origin unknown.]
No, it wasn't named for me. But it could have been.
After near heroic attempts to delay (painted my toenails, cut my hair, sorted books, etc.) I DID IT! I completed my taxes, and mailed them off with three hours to spare. There were minor bits of drama, like when I couldn't find a filing service online that could 'handle' my filing needs, or discovered I needed a form that could only be downloaded and printed (I never hooked up my printer, I don't even know if it works.) But, being ever resilient, I used the library's printer to obtain my form and just completed them myself. After locating envelopes, stamps, and attaching my W2's with brown mailing tape (it was all I could find in a hurry), I dashed to the post office to join the festivities.
Imagine my chagrin at arriving to find a lone person in the post office lobby, eating hot wings while wearing a suit. He didn't say anything, so I dropped my envelopes in the 'out of town' chute, and slunk back outside to locate the revelers. Across the street from the post office is a large gas station (our business district is a crossroad) that is always active, and was positively jumping tonight, so I wandered over there. There were lots of people, quite a few lawmen (whose presence I attributed to the gas station being the local Krispy Kreme repository, in addition to the high volume of people in the only likely location of trouble breaking out for the evening), but no tax party. I bought tortilla chips and salsa, and came home. I didn't even see a party on the news. I feel robbed. Hope you had a happy tax day.
No, it wasn't named for me. But it could have been.
After near heroic attempts to delay (painted my toenails, cut my hair, sorted books, etc.) I DID IT! I completed my taxes, and mailed them off with three hours to spare. There were minor bits of drama, like when I couldn't find a filing service online that could 'handle' my filing needs, or discovered I needed a form that could only be downloaded and printed (I never hooked up my printer, I don't even know if it works.) But, being ever resilient, I used the library's printer to obtain my form and just completed them myself. After locating envelopes, stamps, and attaching my W2's with brown mailing tape (it was all I could find in a hurry), I dashed to the post office to join the festivities.
Imagine my chagrin at arriving to find a lone person in the post office lobby, eating hot wings while wearing a suit. He didn't say anything, so I dropped my envelopes in the 'out of town' chute, and slunk back outside to locate the revelers. Across the street from the post office is a large gas station (our business district is a crossroad) that is always active, and was positively jumping tonight, so I wandered over there. There were lots of people, quite a few lawmen (whose presence I attributed to the gas station being the local Krispy Kreme repository, in addition to the high volume of people in the only likely location of trouble breaking out for the evening), but no tax party. I bought tortilla chips and salsa, and came home. I didn't even see a party on the news. I feel robbed. Hope you had a happy tax day.
Saturday, April 12, 2003
procrastination To put off doing something. To postpone or delay needlessly.
There are forty-nine days left to plan my future. I have this nagging voice in my head saying I should panic. For some odd reason, I have not.
I realized yesterday that I had 50 days left before I have to vacate my beautiful treehouse. Fifty days, because my landlord is moving, and I have to be out June 1. Treehouse, because I have had a lovely three years living on the second floor of an old farmhouse on ten acres of land, with trees all around, 9' ceilings, and huge windows everywhere; when I open them all, it is just like being in a treehouse. It is imperfect, like old houses are, but has lovely feng shui. I will miss it, not bitterly, but in a fond remembrance of grade school friends kind of way. I am at peace about it; I know life is not meant to be static.
I spent the weekend (today is actually 4/14; this post was parked in draft for two days) hiking in three different parks and at Pookie's bonfire playing hide and seek until 1am. There were several (I think two) guilty thoughts that I should be completing tasks instead of running around, but I pushed them aside and kept right on running. I felt too joyous to spend a sunny day cataloging belongings, or filling out tax forms. I didn't want to be the ant in the fable. The halcyon days of spring are just too few and fleeting. In my defense, this is the first year I have procrastinated on taxes. All years prior, I had them completed, sent, and spent before the second week of March. April 15 would see me at home watching on the TV news last minute filers in the post office getting free pizza. It didn't seem fair. This year, I am the grasshopper; this year, I'm going for the free pizza.
There are forty-nine days left to plan my future. I have this nagging voice in my head saying I should panic. For some odd reason, I have not.
I realized yesterday that I had 50 days left before I have to vacate my beautiful treehouse. Fifty days, because my landlord is moving, and I have to be out June 1. Treehouse, because I have had a lovely three years living on the second floor of an old farmhouse on ten acres of land, with trees all around, 9' ceilings, and huge windows everywhere; when I open them all, it is just like being in a treehouse. It is imperfect, like old houses are, but has lovely feng shui. I will miss it, not bitterly, but in a fond remembrance of grade school friends kind of way. I am at peace about it; I know life is not meant to be static.
~~~Intermission~~~
I spent the weekend (today is actually 4/14; this post was parked in draft for two days) hiking in three different parks and at Pookie's bonfire playing hide and seek until 1am. There were several (I think two) guilty thoughts that I should be completing tasks instead of running around, but I pushed them aside and kept right on running. I felt too joyous to spend a sunny day cataloging belongings, or filling out tax forms. I didn't want to be the ant in the fable. The halcyon days of spring are just too few and fleeting. In my defense, this is the first year I have procrastinated on taxes. All years prior, I had them completed, sent, and spent before the second week of March. April 15 would see me at home watching on the TV news last minute filers in the post office getting free pizza. It didn't seem fair. This year, I am the grasshopper; this year, I'm going for the free pizza.
Monday, April 07, 2003
POS Acronym for 'Piece Of Sh*t'; a common term for a motor vehicle that is not valuable, but serves its purpose for local travel.
I had a bad weekend. It is ultimately no one's fault but my own; but I will strive to place the blame elsewhere.
It started out as a jaunt to sell some VHS tapes (included SWII, Little Nicky, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, The One...) as part of my 'Asset Liquidation Scheme' (TM) to raise money for my trip. I was headed to the pawn shop where I used to work, and which I despise (but that is a long, potentially libelous story that concludes some people actually do fit stereotypes), but figured I could get at least $2 a tape from them. On the way, PW saw a video store that had 'we buy videos' painted on their window, so I jumped at the chance to avoid the pawn shop. Ok, I'll zip this part of the story - ended up trading 20 recent, decent videos for a used Legend of Zelda, Majora's Mask. Left the shop with all sorts of chastising comments running through my head, but chose to ignore them.
Arrived to PW's (10 miles from video store) to discover that the clerk had given me the wrong game. Drove back to video store with PW's niece this time, to exchange for correct game.
Returned to PW's to discover that the game needs the N64 expansion pack to play it. Called Kmart, Meijer's, Wal-mart, Best Buy, Electronic Boutique, and another local video gaming store to see if they had the expansion pack. All said 'no'.
Neither I, PW, nor PW's niece could remember the name of the shop we had just been in. So, I made a third trip up the highway to see if they had the pack, and if not, make the guy take the game back (I realize he didn't have to, but I knew from working at the pawn shop that his purchasing methods were not in accordance with the local laws, and I was not above threatening him with it.)
I was already working on a foul mood. I was stopped at the top of the highway ramp, taking a swig of soda while waiting for the light to change, when an SUV smacked into the rear of my car.
If you have ever been in an accident, you may be familiar with how time can seem altered. It went like this in slow mo:
A side note about cars and my philosophy on them: They are machines. They are a convenience, but not a necessity. I have owned a wide spectrum of vehicles (9 or so), from a Lincoln Mark VII (luxury, baby - was like driving around a comfy couch that could go really fast), to a semi-parted out Datsun I bought for $50 US at a garage sale (the running joke was it had Briggs & Stratton's finest in it) and have learned use them, enjoy them, but always be able to walk away from them. They are not an extension of my personality; they do not say who I am. They are simply tools.
The tail light assembly was busted out. Basically, I wasn't as upset about the car as I was over being drenched in red soda. I look at kid, and his laughing companion, and I get my camera out of my bag and start documenting (I got a great shot of his face when it fell.) I was hearing the pertinent part of Alice's Restaurant Massacre in my mind as I took pictures of all views, except aerial shots. We exchanged names & numbers, then I got back into my car, exclaiming 'GOD, I love my camera!'
I drove to the video store (I was on a mission, remember?) where I discover that a) Yes, he had an N64 expansion pack; and b) He wants to charge me $20 for it (thus effectively doubling the game price). This resulted in my performing a soliloquy and then telling him that 'no, I do not want it, I have been through so much over this stupid game, that I don't even want to look at it anymore.'
PW bought the expansion pack. The clerk rubbed salt in my wounds by making a big show of how he didn't charge any tax on the expansion pack, because of all my 'trouble'. I played N64 the rest of the weekend. I don't think I learned a thing.
I had a bad weekend. It is ultimately no one's fault but my own; but I will strive to place the blame elsewhere.
It started out as a jaunt to sell some VHS tapes (included SWII, Little Nicky, Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, The One...) as part of my 'Asset Liquidation Scheme' (TM) to raise money for my trip. I was headed to the pawn shop where I used to work, and which I despise (but that is a long, potentially libelous story that concludes some people actually do fit stereotypes), but figured I could get at least $2 a tape from them. On the way, PW saw a video store that had 'we buy videos' painted on their window, so I jumped at the chance to avoid the pawn shop. Ok, I'll zip this part of the story - ended up trading 20 recent, decent videos for a used Legend of Zelda, Majora's Mask. Left the shop with all sorts of chastising comments running through my head, but chose to ignore them.
Arrived to PW's (10 miles from video store) to discover that the clerk had given me the wrong game. Drove back to video store with PW's niece this time, to exchange for correct game.
Returned to PW's to discover that the game needs the N64 expansion pack to play it. Called Kmart, Meijer's, Wal-mart, Best Buy, Electronic Boutique, and another local video gaming store to see if they had the expansion pack. All said 'no'.
Neither I, PW, nor PW's niece could remember the name of the shop we had just been in. So, I made a third trip up the highway to see if they had the pack, and if not, make the guy take the game back (I realize he didn't have to, but I knew from working at the pawn shop that his purchasing methods were not in accordance with the local laws, and I was not above threatening him with it.)
I was already working on a foul mood. I was stopped at the top of the highway ramp, taking a swig of soda while waiting for the light to change, when an SUV smacked into the rear of my car.
If you have ever been in an accident, you may be familiar with how time can seem altered. It went like this in slow mo:
- Feel impact, soda explodes all over me (if you have ever had a tequila slammer, you will be familiar with that effect.)
- Niece in back seat is jolted awake, and exclaims "what the hell? They are laughing!"
- I thought 'this is my punishment for drinking soda' (bad kidneys - I can relate to the smoker with one lung, addictions are a bitch).
- Kid appears next to my car door, saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."
- I censor my words, because I am pissed.
- I get out, and see this big red SUV violating the rear end of my happy-go-lucky '88 T-bird. (!)
A side note about cars and my philosophy on them: They are machines. They are a convenience, but not a necessity. I have owned a wide spectrum of vehicles (9 or so), from a Lincoln Mark VII (luxury, baby - was like driving around a comfy couch that could go really fast), to a semi-parted out Datsun I bought for $50 US at a garage sale (the running joke was it had Briggs & Stratton's finest in it) and have learned use them, enjoy them, but always be able to walk away from them. They are not an extension of my personality; they do not say who I am. They are simply tools.
The tail light assembly was busted out. Basically, I wasn't as upset about the car as I was over being drenched in red soda. I look at kid, and his laughing companion, and I get my camera out of my bag and start documenting (I got a great shot of his face when it fell.) I was hearing the pertinent part of Alice's Restaurant Massacre in my mind as I took pictures of all views, except aerial shots. We exchanged names & numbers, then I got back into my car, exclaiming 'GOD, I love my camera!'
I drove to the video store (I was on a mission, remember?) where I discover that a) Yes, he had an N64 expansion pack; and b) He wants to charge me $20 for it (thus effectively doubling the game price). This resulted in my performing a soliloquy and then telling him that 'no, I do not want it, I have been through so much over this stupid game, that I don't even want to look at it anymore.'
PW bought the expansion pack. The clerk rubbed salt in my wounds by making a big show of how he didn't charge any tax on the expansion pack, because of all my 'trouble'. I played N64 the rest of the weekend. I don't think I learned a thing.
Thursday, April 03, 2003
shill One who poses as a satisfied customer or an enthusiastic gambler to dupe bystanders into participating in a swindle.
Boy, have I got a deal for you...
Ok, I have spent a large portion of my day cataloging items, and I have started listing them on *shudder* ebay. It will consist mainly of oddball books, and vinyl records (My CDs are probably going to Dingleberry's in Yellow Springs on Saturday). I must confess, I am having a lot of fun writing the item descriptions.
My ebay user name is Cicadi. It was my original internet name. I posted on ScrappleFace and the 5k.org with it; and no, that is not me on Geocities (or the porn sites).
Side note: While googling unsuccessfully for a Dingleberry's link, I found this link, which gives you a good overview of where I used to live, and still spend a lot of time.
Boy, have I got a deal for you...
Ok, I have spent a large portion of my day cataloging items, and I have started listing them on *shudder* ebay. It will consist mainly of oddball books, and vinyl records (My CDs are probably going to Dingleberry's in Yellow Springs on Saturday). I must confess, I am having a lot of fun writing the item descriptions.
My ebay user name is Cicadi. It was my original internet name. I posted on ScrappleFace and the 5k.org with it; and no, that is not me on Geocities (or the porn sites).
Side note: While googling unsuccessfully for a Dingleberry's link, I found this link, which gives you a good overview of where I used to live, and still spend a lot of time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)