Freud says dreams are wish fulfillment

Loopy described the following dream to me:

"We had a washer that you could put the dogs in. It was like our washer now, [a front-loader] with a clear window.

"And I asked you if the dogs had to run around while the washer was going, like a hamster on a wheel, or what. And you said, 'No, silly, you push the button for dog washing and it doesn't go around.'

"So we pushed the button and we put Gracie in there and she just sat there and all the water and soap and everything came in and washed her, and then it dried her too, and I took her out and I was brushing her and I kept thinking, 'She's so clean! Look how clean she is!'"

I couldn't stop laughing for about five minutes.

Who says Freud is outdated?

our little italian friend is magic

My huge gordian knot of neurosis and misery has sorted itself out into a not-at-all-unreasonable to-do list.

1. Just finish the certification. Finishing doesn't mean I have to teach after that. But I owe it to myself to get on with my life. (This neatly disentangles anxiety about teaching from the work I have to do, so that I can get the work done now, while taking longer to resolve the anxiety issue).
   
   
2. In order to be able to contemplate becoming a teacher (since I still think that's what I want to do) without having disabling anxiety, I need to gain two things:
   
   
   1. The confidence that I can handle all the horrendous shit that fellow teachers and parents and administrators etc. can dish out, while retaining my sanity and some measure of calm and confidence.
      
      
   2. The confidence that I will be able to do my work—prepare lesson plans, grade papers, etc.—when it needs to be done (instead of just torturing myself by not doing it and always being messy and unprepared, which was my old m.o.)
   
   
   
3. Then there's all the emotional work, which will help me a lot with (2a), where I get all tangled up in other people's opinion of me, and also with (2b), which—I'm just recently figuring out—is all about how learning to balance the demands of work and marriage, which women in my family do not do well.
   
   Emotional work includes:
   
   

   1. Continue to develop my ability to recognize, feel, and accept my feelings.
      
      
      • Keep my demons in my own head: express feelings in words, instead of acting them out in ways that impinge messily on other people (by "other people" I mostly mean Loopy).
        
      • Let other people feel what they're feeling without trying to fix them and without making it "all about me."
      
      
      
   2. Continue to practice recognizing and taking ownership/responsibility for my opinions and my wishes.
      
      
      • Once I'm clear on that, if there is a conflict with someone else, assess whether these opinions or wishes are important enough to insist upon, or whether they can be sacrificed without harm.
        
      • Whatever I decide, try to be straightforward about communicating it, and accept the feelings that will result from someone (me or the other person) getting what they didn't want.
      
      
      
   3. Keep practicing recognizing the line between what I'm responsible for, and what other people are responsible for. Don't take on other people's stuff (this includes my students who, if I overstep my boundary and take over their problems, learn to just be helpless & wait for rescue).
      

There. That's not so bad. I can do that. It's a lot of work, but it's clear and straightforward. No more dark tangled-up confused bewildered ball of misery. Just some work to do.

I told you he was magic.

cute overload comments...

Yes, I realize my blog has lately been a disappointing pastiche of links and other borrowed content. I also realize I owe you a birthday post part 2. Apologies on both counts, because this post just continues to be a link and a non-birthday-2-post.

However, I think it's worth it. Really. It's even better than the artificial islands shaped like gigantic palm trees (in case you didn't click on that last link).

I don't know why I haven't sent you all to Cute Overload yet, because it's one of my favorite time-wasters.

"At Cute Overload®, we scour the Web for only the finest in Cute Imagery™. Imagery that is Worth Your Internet Browsing Time. We offer an overwhelming amount of cuteness to fill your daily visual allowance. Drink it in!"

Indeed.

Anyway, I was just going to note that Cute Overload visitors shouldn't miss the comments on the photos, which are often really funny. In addition to all the commenters who state that their heads have exploded from cuteness or that they want to eat up the animal in the picture, here are my two all-time favorite comments...

In the comments on this picture, we find the following gem:

This is to inform the owner of _Cute Overload_ that he/she now owes me the sum of approximately $120,000.00, or the total debt I have incurred within 4 years of medical school. Since I was all set to graduate in May 2006, but now will never do so as a result of coming across your blog today, I think it only fair for you to reimburse me the amount it has cost me to ALMOST earn this degree.
Posted by: Haniel | Feb 19, 2006 at 01:45 PM

Haniel!
The request is completely reasonable, I understand. The check is on the way.
XO,
Meg
Posted by: Meg | Feb 19, 2006 at 02:15 PM

And, in the comments on this photo, a total non-sequitur celebrity trivia item is followed by a great response...

This is far and away the cutest thing I have ever seen. It's actually crippling my brain and I can't look at it anymore.
Posted by: Bill | Dec 22, 2005 at 12:19 AM

Jonathon Taylor Thomas is gay.
Posted by: Lafanda | Dec 22, 2005 at 12:29 AM

That's so cute, that just turned me gay.
Posted by: Jon | Dec 22, 2005 at 01:15 AM

Hee hee.....

And if you've never visited Cute Overload before, make sure you check out the "world peace hamster"—pretty much the best pic on the site—and so named because the blog author asserts that, if this image were shown to "all World Leaders," then "the ooh's and aah's (in their respective native languages) should lead to world peace instantly." She adds, "The image may also cure cancer if used properly."

Hmmmm.... I think it's time for bed....

is this crazy or what?

(thanks to Loopy's sis for the link)

a small favor...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

amazing

In light of the Feb.22 post, I will add one more on the same topic...

Here, to my astonishment, is a decent article on the history of Sunni-Shia relations in the area now enclosed by the borders of Iraq. Actually not a bad answer to the most literal interpretation of Franklin's question.

As for the more metaphysical interpretations thereof, I'll leave them for your personal contemplation.

this breaks my heart

Yesterday & this morning, interior & exterior, of the Al-Askari mosque, one of Shiite Islam's most holy sites...





(Photo credits weren't given other than what's in the photo itself)

News stories: New York Times - BBC

It's not that human deaths aren't heartbreaking... but this kind of thing clearly takes aim at the heart, and it finds its mark.

I don't feel ashamed to grieve places & things ever since 9/11, because I knew & loved the twin towers (used to work across the street, blah blah blah) and their destruction was a particular kind of heartbreak—different from grief for a person, but profound and intense nonetheless.

Of course, this is much more devastating for people who knew and loved this place, and more than that, venerated it as a sacred and holy site. Some of the crowd scenes of people just standing around outside staring at the ruin hint at the devastation that people are feeling personally...

I could try to say something philosophical about war etc. but I think I'll just leave it at this.

hip pappy bithuthday to meeee! (part 1)

(somebody please tell me you recognize that quote...)

Well, my actual "bithuthday" is not til Thursday, but my favorite way to celebrate is all week long, so...

Friday

It all started unofficially on Friday, with Chinese food & a movie with our friends Betsy and David. I love them. They are the funniest people ever in the history of the universe. (I say "unofficially" because I was the only person who knew I was already celebrating my birthday. But I was.)

That was the night it got so hideously cold—according to this page, the temperature dropped from ten to zero while we were at dinner, and dropped again from zero to minus ten while we were in the movie theater.

So when we were walking to the door of the theater discussing the movie, the conversation went like this: "And I loved the part where—(door opens into arctic blast)—hoooo!" "Yow!" "Holy shit!" "OK bye see ya soon!" "Bye thanks it was fun!" and we all took off running toward our cars. (If you don't believe Loopy was running, you weren't outside Friday night).

What did we see? "Walk The Line," again, of course. I'd see it again—seriously—I really like that movie. One note, though: recent evidence suggests that Johnny Cash was the all-time king of the earworm. I won't prove it to you, and for that, you should thank me.

Saturday

Saturday was wonderful. Best birthday in a long time and it wasn't even my birthday yet.

First, Loopy stole my phone.

She was gonna get me a Blackberry, but she chickened out because it's so expensive (I'm kinda glad because I'm not sure about it—I might get a Trio instead. I dunno).

But it was such a sweet and thoughtful plan and she was so cute (she wrapped up my phone with all the Blackberry brochures!), and she was so adorably excited about it all ("I dreamed this up months ago and I've been scheming ever since!"), that I totally forgave her for the part where I was standing in the icy 3-degree wind calling her from a pay phone.

Then, I picked Loopy up from her office per her request.

I had been out on the east side and almost went to Maharaja (our favorite Indian restaurant) for lunch, but didn't have time, so when I picked Loopy up I suggested we go there for dinner. She appeared to consider this for a moment, and agreed somewhat reluctantly, it seemed to me.

When we arrived at Maharaja, I saw that jab, her friend B, Ang, and Shamus were there—coincidence, I thought, until I saw Loopy's happy face and the big pile of presents!

It was a surprise party! (I love those!) And I had conveniently picked the restaurant where it was!

I didn't suspect a thing, not for a second! (Although once I knew, all kinds of little weird moments suddenly made sense....I started up the inevitable refrain of "So when you said this...and when you said that..." with Loopy; "I've been lying for days!" she crowed gleefully.

I resisted the temptation to pull a Sally Field and pounced on my loot:

• a purple lava lamp for my car dashboard (ya think it'll stand up to Wisconsin temperatures??)
  
• a set of rose-scented soap (I love rose-scented anything, just ask anyone who knew me in college)
  
• a classical guitar CD which I'm enjoying right now
  
• a Putumayo world music sampler, and
  
• a subscription to Radical Teacher (which turned into a subscription to the magazine of my choice since I already get RT). Do these guys know me or what?

I then polished off an entire masala dosa, during which I attained a state of cosmic bliss.

The Maharaja guys know us (Shamus is concerned that they know too much about us, like our names and birthdays, but since we've been going there for birthdays for three years it's not too terribly surprising) and they do little extra things for us. So I'm convinced they made the dosa especially good somehow—it really did seem even better than usual, and when I said as much to the waiter, he said, "of course, it's your birthday!"

If you doubt that, get this: they improvised a birthday-cake-like dessert by piling a bunch of Indian desserts on a plate and sticking a candle in the middle (Shamus and Ang both took pictures—send me one and I'll put it up here). Two scoops of mango ice cream topped by maraschino cherries, looking exactly like breasts, were the centerpiece of this concoction; they were surrounded by literally piles of kulfi and gulub jamun. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmm....

Monday

So let's see...birthday week continued Monday night when Miri treated me to dinner at The Weary Traveler, which I love and Loopy doesn't—those are the best places to go when your wife is out of town.

We had a great conversation as always, and I luxuriated in (not literally) a big ol' bowl of my favorite vegan chili (with added steak tips & thick-sliced bacon, to make it un-vegan) and two big hunks of cornbread (one extra cuz I asked nicely). This satisfying repast helped me sleep through meditation.

Today

As if all this weren't already more than anyone deserves, my intermittently long-lost cousin called me up out of the blue to wish me a happy bday, and my dear (and never-lost) college roommate Amerina sent me some nifty things.

One of dear Amy's gifts, while perfect and delightful, is impossible to describe (see it here). The other is also delightful but easier to describe: "chicks rule" bath soap—smells wonderful. These goodies were wrapped in Edward Gorey paper, of course, and accompanied by a card wishing me a better year ahead... you can say that again...thank you dearie!!

Tomorrow I head down to Chicago by bus, then Thursday (the actual birthday) Loopy and I have a Loopy-Loopy fun day (location and activity TBD, suggestions welcome) before dining at my (current) favorite Chicago restaurant—this time we're gonna have the prix fixe, I can't wait!!!

I might tell you all about it or I might not. I've certainly babbled on long enough in this post.

And that's all I have to say, so far, about what is turning out to be a really wonderful birthday week.

assorted dialogues

10:07 pm

Guy: Good evening, Associated Alarm Company, can I help you?

Me: Yes, I have a false alarm? But I can't seem to turn it off.

Guy: Mgfghfbgbgfgh? (I can't hear him over the wailing alarm plus all three dogs barking like crazy right next to me)

Me: I'm sorry, what?

Guy: (Again I can't hear him)

Me: Excuse me a second--(to dogs) SHUT UP!!!! (no effect) I'm sorry, can you repeat that?

(etc. etc.)

10:18 pm

Me: Loooooooooopyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I'm in hell.... the alarm went off and I can't turn it off and the dogs are barking and barking.... okay.... well.... call me later (click)

10:22 pm

Me: Hi Loopy, everything's okay now, I went up and turned it off in the bedroom, don't know why I didn't think of that sooner. Okay, well, call me tomorrow, love you... (click)

10:27 pm

Another guy: Hi, this is Dave from Associated Alarm?

Me: Oh, god, I'm so sorry I paged you so many times.

Dave: Yeah.

Me: I'm really sorry, the alarm was going off and I couldn't turn it off, but I finally fixed it.

Dave: Sweet. Ehhhhhhxcellent. (very relieved that he doesn't have to go out on a service call on a cold night)

Me: I'm sorry, it was going off for like fifteen minutes and I was just, like, totally freaking out.

Dave: Yes. So I see.

Me: Yeah, uh, sorry. Okay, well, thanks anyway.

Dave: Okay.

baby, it's cold outside!

shortly after 8 a.m. this morning.... yow.

the high was three degrees fahrenheit (minus eighteen celsius). at least we broke into the positive temperature zone...tomorrow we'll be aiming for double-digits, yahoo!

tomorrow i'll post about my fabulous birthday surprises! yay!!! :-D and my birthday's not even til thursday! wow!

coming out of a tailspin...(maybe)

An old friend, whose parents were in the same religious cult/organization as my parents, read what I wrote about yelling at Dad and wrote me a great letter.

I wrote a response to her that I decided to post here because it's the first I've been able to make any sense of anything since getting back from AZ. Also because I'm going to be late for a meeting if I don't hurry and go.

So here's what I said to my friend:

"You wrote (among many other useful observations), 'One of the benefits that comes with acceptance and healing is not having to devote all of one's energy to self-protection.'

"This helps remind me of a useful comment on one of the Pema Chodron CDs I listen to a lot. She talks about our ongoing scramble to avoid our feelings—according to Buddhism, it's that scramble that lands us in so much trouble over and over, whether it's an abusive partner or a substance problem or just fucking up our dreams to hurt ourselves, the way I do.

"Anyway, she says that it's a scramble to avoid seeing things we don't want to know, so the more we know ourselves, the less scramble there is—we don't have to protect ourselves from seeing what we already know is there, or from feeling things we know we can survive.

"That's really where I am right now. Visiting Mom & Dad knocked me into such a tailspin. I didn't anticipate it since it was such a short visit, but there were so many highly emotional moments, and I also went in with the goal of observing myself, so I saw a lot, and then am reacting to what I saw in myself, but not reacting with compassion.

"I have felt so ANGRY since returning, and my own anger is the thing I handle least well. I am angry at myself as well as at them, and there's no mercy in it at all right now.

"Tailspin is exactly what it feels like, like in the movies when a plane is falling out of the sky, and everything is whirling and you can't even get your bearings or figure out which way is up or down, or what button or lever will help you right yourself, and you start to wonder if you've been flying upside down or sideways all along and if you would even know 'up' or 'down' if you saw it."

Couple more things I'll say here and then I really have to get going...

One, unlike in the movies, a tailspin isn't going to kill me. It's unpleasant—that's an understatement—it's nauseating, it's terrifying, it's painful, and I hate it. It cuts me off from Loopy (i'm so sorry my darling!) and all my friends (including dear Bean who called yesterday, thank you! sorry I was still spinning and felt so disconnected...).

But it's just another set of feelings. There's no crash, no fiery doom at the end. It goes on for a while and then it passes. Like any other set of feelings.

I think the sooner I can remember that, and calm down and let the spinning feelings spin, instead of scrambling to escape from them, the sooner they will pass. (The trick is to remember that next time!)

I gotta go, I'll save the rest for another post.

Oh, and P.S., for the info of all you people in sunnier climes, it's minus twelve degrees, and check out Ang's photo, on her post titled: "Says Entire City of Madison, Wisconsin: "Shovel? What's A Shovel?"

it's a perfect day for the sweater Loopy hates. hee hee.

not nice, not nice at all

So Dad disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth, or whatever he does before bed, and re-emerged having removed his gauze bandage from his surgery wound, leaving only the tape that they now use instead of stitches.

"You took your bandage off! You're not supposed to take it off!" I said, alarmed as I looked at the clearly still-open wound through the tape.

"Oh well, I took it off," Dad said, shrugging.

"Well you're not supposed to!" I said. By this time I was pretty much yelling.

"I'm sure it will be fine," he said, shrugging again.

"How do you know? You're not the doctor!" I was definitely yelling.

Mom had got into the act by now and we were both yelling at him, about a foot from his face. Both of us are taller than he is and we had kind of cornered him in a hallway. He turned away from us and sort of scrunched up like a small child, shrugging helplessly and wordlessly.

I felt terrible and ran away. "I'm sorry I yelled at you, Dad, I'm just worried!" I called from the other room (you thought maybe I didn't mean "ran away" literally?)

"Well, sometimes he remembers better if you yell at him," Mom said. Then she took him in the bedroom and yelled at him for a couple minutes about how he should definitely not take the tape off or he would have to go back to the hospital. I overheard snippets like this:

Mom: "NO MORE TAKING BANDAGES OFF! GOT IT?"

Dad: (meekly) "okay."

God. I wonder how often she pulls that routine. It actually was a little scary...she sounded totally out of control and dissociated. I'm sure the whole situation makes her angry, but there must be a better way to impress something on Dad's mind besides that kind of screaming fit.

Hmmm, this reminds me of when we were in couples' therapy and I talked about how when people get mad I think they're going to turn into a monster. It did seem like she turned into another person in there. Or maybe that's just what my brain does to compartmentalize scary-mom away from regular-mom...that wasn't really Mom, that was a monster that just came in temporarily. My real Mom is nice.

Am I crazy or what?

Meanwhile I feel awful about being mean to poor Dad. It's not his fault. He doesn't know which end is up, and it's worse than usual since the surgery.

I guess maybe yesterday's little story really could be taken at face value: Mom and I are mean; Dad is nice.

This is how I got so crazy.

"People yell when they're scared," Mom used to tell me when I was little, by way of apologizing for yelling. That was a good thing to say and a nice thing to do, the only indication I remember getting that feelings are okay, that they won't kill you, that people can be mad and still love you.

So, I yelled because I was scared.

I still feel like I bludgeoned a puppy.

random wee-hours thoughts & regurgitated grumblings

i should have brought another pair of floppy pants.

i don't have another pair of floppy pants.

my hands are dry. where's that lotion. ah.

i shouldn't have said i'd write that article.

why do i agree to do things i don't have time to do.

which iPod playlist will help me fall asleep fastest.

and....

over dinner my mother made this little speech she's made before.

It starts with how nurses always compliment my Dad on how nice and polite he is even with his dementia. And you know, the nurses always complimented my Aunts when they were alive, too, on the same thing.

This is always followed by the comment that my mother isn't terribly nice, and worries that she won't be so nice & polite when she has dementia ("you'll be horrible," I say confidently tonight, "we'll deal with it")...

...but she doesn't really care about that, she's really working up to the main point, which is to say that she's worried I'll be horrible--since "she hears how I talk to my friends on the phone." Which means, how I fight with Loopy, I'm guessing.

"Believe me, I'll still be the nicest person on the ward," I say. "Just look at my generation. There won't be any Dads and Aunt Marys to compare me to."

Ignoring the other Aunt she's referring to, Aunt A, who was a total sociopath.

But you know, in my mom's world, nice is everything. You can be a sociopath as long as you're nice about it.

So this is my mom's long roundabout way of saying I'm not nice enough. Which ranks me below the total sociopath Aunt A, whom Mom hated.

Or do you think I'm imagining this? Maybe she just means exactly what she says....

ha. that'd be a first.

several feelings later...

So, Dad's surgery went fine. There really wasn't any worry about the surgery, actually. What I was dreading was the sitting in the hospital for hours.

You know, to reassure him when he doesn't understand what's going on, and fix his pillows and give him water and stop him from taking his oxygen tube off and get the nurse to help him pee in a bottle....

...all those hospitally activities that simultaneously produce boredom and anxiety, my least favorite combo.

So..........I read a couple more chapters of Finding Serenity (the book about Firefly that Loopy gave me for xmas, bless her a thousand times).

I also read a couple chapters of some Thich Nhat Hanh book but I couldn't get into it.

Played both the games on my old iPod.

Read some newspapers lying around.

(Now what time is it? Jesus, only ten minutes since the last time I looked at the clock?).

You get the picture.

I heard once that Freud said boredom is anxiety. I have no idea what he's talking about.

Well, it's over with for today & he's coming home tomorrow (Dad, not Freud). And I'm going home on Wednesday. Not a moment too soon. *sigh* I foresee a lot more of this in the future.

Oh well. That's life.

so, fine.

In desperation (must blog! no feelings! go awaaaay!) I return to the random poem generator, which, based on my blog URL, gives me a long poem ending thus:

Loopy
with crisp veggies, or
pesto, or what is—big
prayer wheels
in her position. So, fine.

hee hee.

......

Well, that was good for a couple minutes. Time to watch Firefly.

i do not eat to stuff my feelings

I'm going to Arizona tomorrow b/c Dad's having minor surgery on Monday.

It's purely coincidental that, as soon as I picked up the phone to call my parents about this, I decided to eat a chocolate-vanilla swirl jello pudding snack.

Maybe I'll have another one. Rats, got chocolate on the keyboard.

I don't blog to stuff my feelings, either.

in which Loopy knits through another movie

This started out as a comment on Loopy's post but ended up being too long, so I moved it over here.

Yes, we saw Firewall (new Harrison Ford flick) last night, with Marina, everybody's favorite hard-core Stalinist & Balkan war veteran.

Why did we see this film, in which the bad guys take Harrison Ford's family hostage to force him to help them rob the bank where he works?

You may well ask. Well, we were willing to see Nanny McPhee, but Marina refused (surprise surprise). The only other films we could all agree on were Glory Road (basketball flick) or Annapolis (naval academy flick). Your choice of testosterone-soaked crapola.

So anyway. Back to the knitting (which was what Loopy's post was about).

At the climactic moment when the villain dies a gruesome death (c'mon, that's not a spoiler, it's a regular action flick), Marina and I burst out laughing.

I looked over and Loopy was knitting, knitting, knitting, looking absorbed in her work and quite content.

Marina and I also laughed a lot at the "happy family in the sunshine" denoument (nb, we were the only ones in the theater who found any of this amusing). Loopy was still knitting.

That's life at the movies with us crazy kids.

Marina & I agreed that the best line was as follows:

Hero's daughter (looking blonde, spoiled,* and utterly all-American), addressing the villains: "Why do you hate us so much?"
Villain: (derisive snort) "We don't hate you. We just don't care about you."

It was beautiful.

My only other comment on the movie is this. The villains send Harrison Ford into his office, surrounded by coworkers—but they are monitoring his voice, cell phone and email.

So he is unable to communicate with anyone that he & his family are in trouble.

Hello? Dude? There's this thing called a pencil?

I think this says something about modern life, but I can't decide whether it's that we are all so wired that we've forgotten how to connect in person, or that we are all just too stupid to be allowed to live.

god, Harrison Ford is old!

In other Marina news, we went to Muramoto on the square for dinner. Marina hadn't tried sake before. Her comment: "Ugh. During the war, when we made wine out of rice, I thought it tasted terrible because we were doing it wrong. But I guess we did it right after all."

I love that girl. We have to hang out with her more often. Even if all her best stories start with "during the war."

In other movie news, Loopy & I recently saw Walk the Line which was shockingly fantastic. Seriously. It was great. I hate musician biopics as much as the next person, or probably more, but I really loved this film and want to see it again. Go see it while it's still in the theater—you'll enjoy it, I guarantee it. Really, I do—I'll refund your ticket price personally if you don't.

Well, maybe not, but Jessica, I will buy you popcorn.

---

*Spoiled, the definition: Harrison Ford asks his daughter if he can borrow her pink iPod mini to help save the day. She reluctantly lets him have it, but only if he promises to give it back to her. "OK Daddy, you can save the lives of everyone in our family, but only if I get my iPod back." jeeeesus.

victory dance!!

I did some work! Yay me!

Yesterday I took a "to-do list" to therapy and we agreed that I would try to start working again (I gave up a while back, it was just not happening). So today I did, and I did it! I finished the first thing on the list! Sat down around 3pm, done at 6:45. Yippee!!!

It was uncomfortable, it was difficult, it was unpleasant, but finally, finally, the desire to just be done with it and get on with my life is stronger than the desire to give up and run away.

My only concern is—will I have to fuck up my life this badly before accomplishing anything in the future? Or will I actually be able to start doing things differently?

Only time will tell.

In the meantime, I'm off to eat some celebratory swedish meatballs.

I wanted to post a "victory dance" image but I'm too lazy. (Search "victory dance" in google images for a laugh, though—lots of cute & funny images of happy people).

I do have a photo, somewhere, of me doing the "broccoli dance" in my pajamas (in which I imitate a broccoli, or what broccoli might look like if it could dance) but if you think I'm gonna show it to you, you're flat out of your minds.

Unlike me. I'm totally sane.

Hee hee!

random poem generator!

This is funnier than I thought it would be (thanks to Rie for the link). It takes any page you give it, and randomly makes bits of it into a poem. Give it the address of your own blog—it will amuse you.

I fed it my blog URL. Here are my favorite excerpts of what it spat back:

Welcome
is rife with depression &
angst, alternating
with something new, has
cost JavaScript Error To
penetrate its walls.
...
What I should any
photo at posts about themselves
and read an
Oscar nomination.

This reminds me of that scene in Grosse Pointe Blank (god I love that movie) where the totally wasted tough guy tries to kill John Cusack and then tries to read him a really bad poem....

Loopy-Loopy dialogue from Monday

Me (calling from another room where I'm getting dressed): Guess what I'm wearing TODAY?

Loopy: That hideous sweater.

Me: That's right!!!!

(...pause...)

Me: I think it looks especially cute with the hoodie on, don't you?

Loopy: Aaagh! Go away!

Me: Mwah-hah-hah! (evil laugh)

I think the truth is that Loopy fears my sweater. I think that's it.

Maybe my sweater has special powers.

Maybe those "anti-depressants" I've been taking are mislabeled.

my new favorite sweater

So the other day at Marshall Fields in Chicago I picked up a new sweater. It's a designer name, on triple-quadruple-ultra-super-duper clearance—best kind of shopping, of course.


of course, it's much wider on me!

I love this sweater because it's extremely warm and extremely soft (angora & lambswool), also did I mention it was on clearance? Plus it's in some of my favorite colors.

But for some perverse reason, I love it extra-specially because Loopy just HATES it.



She hates the cheesy pseudo-southwestern pattern. I think she hates the colors. But she most especially hates, hates, HATES the fake-fur-trimmed hoodie.



I think it looks cute, but Loopy called in reinforcements who supported her position. So, fine. It's still warm and cozy. And, did I mention, it was on clearance? ;-)

stealing a tag: Friday Fours

Liz has tagged my Loopy with "Friday Fours."

Since this blog lately has had a number of heavy posts about depression & angst, alternating with attempts at light-hearted posts that still clunk with depression & angst, I thought I'd steal this tag (not that Loopy shouldn't do her own—presumably tags, like Shmoos, can be infinitely divided & shared—hey, has anyone ever seen any Shmoo porn? but I digress) and try to make something genuinely fluffy.

We shall see.

Four jobs you've had in your life:
1. babysitter
2. book re-shelver at Widener Library (beware the movable stacks!)
3. graphic designer
4. Web Development Director (a title! wow!)

Four movies you could watch over and over again:
1. The Lord of the Rings Trilogy
2. Bringing Up Baby
3. Grosse Pointe Blank
(never fails to make me laugh...)("Should've brought my gun."..."What???"... "Uh, I said, this looks fun!")
4. Bourne Supremacy

Four places you have lived:
1. Tucson
2. Tokyo
3. Boston
4. New York

Four TV shows you love to watch:
1. Firefly
2. Project Runway
3. Mad About You
4. The L Word

Four websites you visit daily:
1. Bloglines
(Lets you subscribe to blogs and read them all in one place. So, you can immediately see who's posted something new, plus, save time by not revisiting blogs where nothing new has been posted)(particularly handy with folks like Shakha and Rie who periodically fall silent for weeks at a time, then pop out with something cool and interesting that I wouldn't want to miss even for a nanosecond)
2. Flickr

Uh.... that's really all. But believe me, that's plenty.

Four of your favorite foods:
1. casseroles & one-pot meals
2. interestingly flavored chocolate (e.g., curry, wasabi, violet, absinthe, etc.)
3. tapas-style "small plates" especially those featuring raw tuna
4. pasta with light and fresh-tasting accoutrements, such as with crisp veggies, or pesto, or something other than tomato sauce (I like that too, it just wouldn't make my top four)

Four places you'd rather be right now:
I'm going to change this one, & combine it with the next one ("Four places you've been on vacation"), because right at this exact moment, I'm okay with where I am. Except, I should probably be in the shower, becuase if I don't get going I'm going to be late. But that's another story.

Four favorite places you've ever been in the world:

1. The Shetland Islands in Scotland, especially Hermaness National Nature Preserve on North Unst. Click through to my photo on Flickr for more of a description.




2. Bodnath Stupa, Kathmandu, Nepal...you can climb up and sit on the dome... and sitting up there in the evening light, you're surrounded on all sides by the Himalayas and the sky, and the dust and chaos and misery of the streets seem far away...you can hear the prayer flags fluttering in the wind, and their light and color surround you... you can hear tin prayer wheels of all sizes being spun—big prayer wheels in the walls around the stupa, small hand-held prayer wheels spun by pilgrims circumambulating the stupa below.

In the evening the refugee Tibetan community gathers and circles the stupa together, laughing and talking and just emanating this warm hum of voices that are glad to see each other. It's incredibly peaceful.

View of the stupa	view from the stupa

There's other places I could add that are architecturally or naturally wonderful and tranquil, serene... (Horyuji in Japan)... but I'll switch gears here.

3. New York City. Still feels like home after more than five years away from it.




4. The house we live in now.

Probably won't ever love living in another house as much as this one, and that's okay. Housing perfection isn't my highest priority. But oh, I do love this house and its surrounding woods!




Four bloggers you'll be tagging:
Hey, take it away, anyone who wants it—tagging seems sort of like a popularity contest, and/or, can be burdensome or irritating if the person doesn't want the tag. Also, who says four people will read this?

So, if you're reading this, consider yourself tagged. If you want to be. & have fun.

public service announcements

For those of you who don't read Mush Mook's inimitable blog (and why the hell not, I should like to know??) a recent post has these two useful links:

Here is a list of films whose actors, actresses, effects, makeup, sound, etc. etc. garnered an Oscar nomination. (I'm trying to avoid saying "Oscar-nominated films" because that puts Star Wars III, which was nominated for makeup (!?), in the same category as the Best Picture nominees like Munich and Bareback Mountain).

And here is a little quiz. It consists of a list of names, and you are asked to guess whether each one is the name of a porn star or of a My Little Pony.

Misty Rain?

What about Daisy Sweet?

Ah, you'll think it's easy, but I flunked bigtime. Let me know how you make out (no pun intended).

Should any of you be rushing to view all the, uh, Oscar-mentioned films before the big night, may I recommend my March of the Penguins drinking game to while away that unbelievably tedious film. It was nominated for "best documentary feature," god forbid.

In that category, I would vote for the inappropriately titled "Darwin's Nightmare," which should be called simply "Colonialism" or "How White People's Self-Important Arrogance Has Ruined the World for Everyone Else." Even though I haven't seen the film, the message has more, shall we say, resonance than that of the penguins (because it doesn't have a message, and what, I ask you, is the point of a documentary without a message??).

Come to think of it, the damn penguin film is the one that should be called "Darwin's Nightmare," since it depicts what Ang so rightly termed "the most ineffecient reproductive process on the face of the earth."

OK, OK, obviously just wasting time here. Thanks for all your cool comments recently. I went back and replied to the comments on the last two posts so check it out....