Author of the Queen City Boys books


I was born in the backseat of a Mustang

I have no reason to be in anything other than a good mood today and yet ridiculousness at work seems to be getting the best of me.  I just spent ten minutes on the porch trying to talk myself into a positive mental attitude.

It’s lovely outside, not quite blue-skied, but warm and lovely and scented of spring and joy.  I am dressed for it: black a-line skirt, bright green top, white cardigan, black satin ballet flats printed all over with cherries.

Right now T-Rider is driving through the Arizona desert, which I suspect is kind of boring for him and certainly not one of my favorite things to do, but man, I wish I was there.  I am instead making a list of insanely urgent work things that I can’t solve myself and can’t seem to pin anyone else down to approve.  The huge desert sky, the possibilty of stopping for excellent food and riding along with my feet propped up in the corner of the open window seems exceptionally perfect right now.  But perhaps that’s an “anywhere but here” feeling.

HA!  In further proof the universe does not want me to be in a bad mood, our accounting person just called me to tell me that they were retroactively extending my raised back to Mar 24, instead of Apr 1.  Apparently this makes accounting easier, but more importantly, pays me more for a whole extra week.  Woo!

Birthday is now 22 days away.  That’s three weeks, people.  Hope you’ve all been pooling your cash to buy me that one-way ticket to Barcelona.  And perhaps set me up with someone to marry there, so I can stay.  *sigh*  Yeah, that would better than work today.

Okay. I should be working.  Solving problems.  Reducing my own panic about what isn’t going to get done.

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38 hours since I got you home safe

I am working, it’s boring, easy, addition of long columns of numbers, putting together donation reports from the last three years. Mindless and so I am obsessing over The Time Traveler’s Wife while I do it.  I lent my last copy out.  I might seriously have to buy a new one on my way home so I can read it again tonight.  And then in Rhi’s blog she was listening to “Propane” which is one of my most favoritist songs ever and somehow in my my mind inexplicably tied to The Time Traveler’s Wife (perhaps they stir up the same emotions in me?).

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Vive ut vivas

Only two songs recs?  C’mon people!

Operation: Be Nice to Me (subsequently known as O:BNM) has thus far resulted in me using fancy fig & lavendar body wash instead of plain old soap and today I am wearing a lovely skirt that I got in Amsterdam a couple years ago and my sexier pair of knee-high boots.  I smell good and I feel all chic and cosmopolitan (despite the fact that I couldn’t sleep again last night and was thus super late for work and didn’t bother to brush my hair or anything).  I’ve also changed the name of this blog to “vivat crescat floreat,” the Latin for “may it live, grow, and flourish!”  In the interest of positivity and my maintaining a general great outlook.


it’s like, um, totally frumpy, but like, I can do better with my nice things

Validated: quotative like.

I just got a message from a vague acquaintance (a friend of an old fling), asking if she had heard correctly that I was doing the booking at the Station Inn. Um, no? And if someone is perpetuating such rumours about me can they please make an equivalent job materialize with it?

Week beginning January 24
Copyright 2008 by Rob Brezsny

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): “In the human heart new passions are forever being born,” said French writer Francois de La Rochefoucauld. “The overthrow of one almost always means the rise of another.” I suppose that’s true. We all have longings that come and go as we evolve. But I’d also like to propose an equally valid and contradictory truth: In every human heart there are a few passions that last a lifetime. They’re with us from the moment we’re born, and nothing can dilute their intensity. Our destiny revolves around them. These are the passions I hope you will define with precision and nurture with alacrity during the next eight weeks.

What does that even mean?

I’m feeling fairly old and frumpy today.  Timmy Mac tells me my new MySpace picture (taken today) makes me look like a pretty British girl. He flatters, as he always does, however, I’m so full of my own frumpiness that I can’t help but wonder if he means I’m hiding bad teeth or something. Then again maybe it’s because I tried to set it as my profile pic and it scrunched up funny and made me look all distorted and that’s unhappy making. (eta – I’ve decided I hate it and thus have taken it down and replaced it with a much better one.)Yesterday I resolved to do more nice things for myself. I have this weird habit of buying things for myself, like fancy body wash, or jewelry, or clothes that are nice and then not ever using/wearing them.  It’s like I think I need to save them for some special occasion which never arrives.  So I am resolving to use all the nice bath products, wear the lovely clothes etc. for no reason at all other than I like to look good and smell pretty. No point in having nice things if they just gather dust, yeah?

I have 4 eMusic downloads left for the month.  Everyone rec me a song you think I might like and might not have. Go!

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of a certain age

I had stress dreams last night.  The majority of my stress dreams almost always center around moving.  This time it wasn’t me though.  In the dream I arrived at a friend’s house in the early afternoon to help her move and found her asleep and not having packed yet.  She assured me the landlord would give her a couple more days but when she called, she found out the new tenants were moving in at 6 pm that evening, giving us about 3 hours to pack her whole huge apartment and move everything out.  We called some more people and brought them over to help.  I kept sending people out to hit liquor stores for more boxes and stuff but they kept not coming back, until finally I was there only person there doing the packing and loading the truck.  Meanwhile the new tenants were moving stuff in around me, filling the rooms I’d emptied and sort of hovering, trying to make me pack things faster.  Everything I was left packing was delicate and fragile, and I had no boxes so I was trying to carefully pad things in newspaper and then pack them in grocery bags and hope they wouldn’t break.

So, thanks, brain, for that.  Not subtle at all, although better than the life stress combined with zombie apocalypse dreams I had on Saturday night.

Today is my sister’s birthday.  She’s 15.  I’m amazed both that I have a sister that young and that she’s that old.  Jesus. Isn’t she still the cutest little three year old ever, trying to climb up my leg so I’ll hold her away from cats and small dogs (which she was terrified of as a child)?

I expect it’s mostly hormonal and some other stuff, but I am feeling quite old today. I washed my hair this morning, so all the shorter hairs along my part are frizzy and sticking up.  They are all grey, giving me kind of a white halo in the review mirror as I was driving to work.  I’m not terribly concerned about going grey, it’s inevitable, and my dad went grey very young, so I’m mostly happy that it actually held off this long.  But while I’m fine with the streaks coming in across my forehead and on the sides of my head, I wish those short wiry ones all along my part would go away.  Anyway, I was staring at the grey hairs, while sitting at a stop light, and the light from the sun roof and the rearview mirror always seems to highlight them so much more than any other mirror I look in. And I realized, as my own birthday is creeping up that I am a woman of a certain age. Like I’m too young for middle age and too hold for youthful hijinks.  I can’t run around like I did in my 20s, nor can I yet fall back into a cushion of “too old for that.”  I should be focusing on my career, I believe, as at my age most women are focusing on children and families, and I’m so not going there, that I really should be doing something for myself.  And I’m trying, I really am. I’m, just today, feeling a little defeated at how fast the world is passing me by and wondering how much harder I’ll have to work to get the things I really want both at work and from relationships.

Speaking of work, dreaded day job just made me an offer of sorts. Basically it comes down to me having to make a decision by the end of February.  I either say, fuck this, I can do better, and walk, or stay. If I stay they are offering me a promotion with the re-org and a chance to essentially restructure the new position into what I want to focus on, with more money.  It sounds great, I guess, but there’s currently no guarantees on money and no definites on time frame. Plus it wouldn’t be until we got to new office (most likely late Feb), which is very inconveniently located in relation to my house.  I am actually pretty torn.  I could make a one year commitment for more money, a few more hours, a more flexible schedule and maybe a less annoying job. The new position would look great on my resume and could be helpful to some extent in my own career development plans.  But it could just be the same old shit shined up, and perhaps now is when I should take the leap to go a completely different direction.  Some of my major criteria for a new job are: flexible schedule, ability to travel or take time off as needed, more money, more decision making authority, new skills for future jobs. And current job seems to be offering me that and I’m not sure how easy it will be to find in a brand new job around here.  UGH

I think I’ve been listening to too much Tom Waits lately.  I need some sort of system of positive reinforcement in my life, that includes keeping me away from depressing music some times.  Speaking of, here’s a song for my day–

All that aside, the worst part of today is being at work.  It’s in the low 60s outside, sunny and the temp is still rising.  It smells like spring.  I have no illusions, as I know it’s supposed to get assfuck cold again in a few days, but man, I would very much like to be outside enjoying the lovely mildness while it’s here.


in which I am boring and there is music

Yesterday it was jackhammering at 6:32 am.  Today it was crazy, loud stray dogs barking at 5:40 am.  What I would really like is to get more then 5.5 hours of sleep. I might complain less if I’d had any fun, but working until 11 pm or later and not even being able to sleep in until 7:30 is some miserable bullshit.

I am listening to KEXP.org.  I listen to non-country radio maybe 2 or 3 times a month and yet I am so incedibly sick of that Peter Bjorn and John song.  I don’t even know what it’s called.  I don’t even know how I know who it’s by, but it really grates on me.  Luckily KEXP redeemed itself by playing the Pixies after that.

For lunch today I have hot spinach and artichoke dip with corn chips, an apple and almonds.  This resembles healthy eating for me. As although it contains chips it’s not just chips.