So I've just sat on my arse watching the NCIS marathon - well, not all of it of course - and USA network keeps showing previews starring some girl who just lost her husband, and she keeps saying, "I lovED him". Keep watching every show about a dead person, and they'll continue to say loved in the past tense.
I know that this sounds trite and probably quite silly, but actors and actresses say this all the time in fictitious shows, and it makes me curious as to who feels this way? Think about it.
Jessie, after finding out that her loving and ridiculously sexy husband died in a freak tennis racket accident. For some reason, detectives think the grieving widow had something to do with it, and she gasps with her hand to her chest and says, "but I LOVED him". If I were her sexy dead hubby, I would haunt that bitch's ass in a heartbeat. What the hell does she mean, she looooveeddd me? I'm still lying on a slab, and I haven't even been buried and that shallow hoebag is saying she doesn't love me anymore? Have you ever heard of rigor mortis? (Sorry, bad joke.) Point being, when does love or feeling stop? And who is writing this shit???
And even more to the point, why the hell am I paying attention?? Uh oh.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Finally!
I finally added a blog specifically for fiction/non fiction/poetry stuff I've written. Some are good, some suck, and some are just silly. But I love them all the same. So peruse, enjoy, and leave comments. ;)
http://flyingfisherette.blogspot.com/
http://flyingfisherette.blogspot.com/
Thursday, July 30, 2009
A Thousand Directions, None The Same
Ready for stream of consciousness? If not, turn back now. If you've never read the likes of Woolf or Kerouac, you may be unfamiliar with the term 'stream of consciousness'. In that case, let me explain: it's a polite term for the mental shits you get at times. My favorite Virginia Woolf entry is in To The Lighthouse, when time passes from the perspective of the empty house. The title of the chapter? Time Passes. Ironic. Easily the most beautiful thing I read in my undergraduate career. I want to buy Waiting by Ha Jin again, because I let the damn thing get rain soaked. That was another beautiful book. Patience is a virtue I don't really have, but Waiting has an abundance of patience oozing from the main character.
Foster is snoring at the foot of my bed, and I love that dog more'n my luggage. "You know I love you more'n my luggage." - Clairee, Steel Magnolias. Excellent movie. The only time I've seen my grandmother cry is when we watched that movie together. I miss her Christmas cookies - only 5 more months!
Do you know what one of my biggest pet peeves is? When people say, "People that . . . ." People are 'whos' and not 'thats', and that's just common sense - to me anyway.
Tonight I saw the stars. Really stopped and saw them for the first time in a while. It's just the simple things that are the most amazing. The stars watch us as we lead our temporary lives with what I'm sure is infinite, bemused patience. Stars that shine, people who look at the stars. I looked up and stared until my neck hurt. I was sitting at Caribou Coffee on East Blvd. at 11 o'clock p.m. sharing a coffee while the breeze caressed my skin like silk on satin. It was probably 75 degrees outside, with a small baby's breath of breeze. The night critters were singing and serenading anyone willing to listen, and I am listening. It's beautiful, transcendent and timeless. Evenings like tonight are made for people like me who are willing to feel its beauty.
I need to clean my room, but I think that this is probably not constructive at the moment. I should probably sleep, but I'm listening to good music, but I prefer to listen to Foster snore. That's a lot of 'buts' in one sentence. Canine innocence. Adorable. Life affirming. But then there's Jonny Lang and Portishead, which are my music choices for this evening. No idea why, except that they feel good on my ears.
Foster is snoring at the foot of my bed, and I love that dog more'n my luggage. "You know I love you more'n my luggage." - Clairee, Steel Magnolias. Excellent movie. The only time I've seen my grandmother cry is when we watched that movie together. I miss her Christmas cookies - only 5 more months!
Do you know what one of my biggest pet peeves is? When people say, "People that . . . ." People are 'whos' and not 'thats', and that's just common sense - to me anyway.
Tonight I saw the stars. Really stopped and saw them for the first time in a while. It's just the simple things that are the most amazing. The stars watch us as we lead our temporary lives with what I'm sure is infinite, bemused patience. Stars that shine, people who look at the stars. I looked up and stared until my neck hurt. I was sitting at Caribou Coffee on East Blvd. at 11 o'clock p.m. sharing a coffee while the breeze caressed my skin like silk on satin. It was probably 75 degrees outside, with a small baby's breath of breeze. The night critters were singing and serenading anyone willing to listen, and I am listening. It's beautiful, transcendent and timeless. Evenings like tonight are made for people like me who are willing to feel its beauty.
I need to clean my room, but I think that this is probably not constructive at the moment. I should probably sleep, but I'm listening to good music, but I prefer to listen to Foster snore. That's a lot of 'buts' in one sentence. Canine innocence. Adorable. Life affirming. But then there's Jonny Lang and Portishead, which are my music choices for this evening. No idea why, except that they feel good on my ears.
Flibbertigibbets & Portishead
Fact: The book in my bathroom is called Woe Is I, and it's all about grammar and word usage. I love that book, and it's filled with fun facts.
Fact: The book on my nightstand is To Kill A Mockingbird and I'm enjoying the hell out of Harper Lee.
Fact: Foster is sleeping right next to me and I'm listening to Jonny Lang, loving the evening I had. If I ever doubt that I made the wrong decision about moving (which I never do, by the way - but this is theoretical), it's nights like tonight that affirm my place in the world. Beauty is everywhere on evenings like this, when the universe seems to just wrap you in her loving arms and lead.
Yesterday was a complete fucktard-filled fiasco, featuring myself as the lead fucktard of course. Who else? As Jessie goes tripping through life, she's pretty congenial as a rule. But there are times - say, after a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a bloody Mary, and of course half a dozen or so Fiji Moons, when Jessie becomes a bleeding moron. And I paid for it all day. Oh holy hangover . . . .
But of course, today is a new day and whatnot, so after working from home today, I decided to check out this local band. Although there was an ulterior motive associated with my seeing this band, a pleasant thing happened. (You were wondering when the heck I was going to get to the point, weren't you?) An old friend got in touch with me out of nowhere. We chatted, and he decided to come with me to this dive bar. I hadn't seen him in probably 2 years, and he hadn't cut his hair in about that amount of time, so while his keeps getting longer, mine mysteriously keeps getting shorter. Complete hair role reversal. I love it! Here's the thing that blew my mind, though: we got along so well, it was almost surreal.
That's not to say we had friction before, but it was like a rebirth of friendship, of kinship and an acknowledgement of the thing I needed the most today. I am always amazed at what the world has to offer me in a mere moment. And I guess I should open my eyes to the possibilities a little more often.
Fact: The book on my nightstand is To Kill A Mockingbird and I'm enjoying the hell out of Harper Lee.
Fact: Foster is sleeping right next to me and I'm listening to Jonny Lang, loving the evening I had. If I ever doubt that I made the wrong decision about moving (which I never do, by the way - but this is theoretical), it's nights like tonight that affirm my place in the world. Beauty is everywhere on evenings like this, when the universe seems to just wrap you in her loving arms and lead.
Yesterday was a complete fucktard-filled fiasco, featuring myself as the lead fucktard of course. Who else? As Jessie goes tripping through life, she's pretty congenial as a rule. But there are times - say, after a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc and a bloody Mary, and of course half a dozen or so Fiji Moons, when Jessie becomes a bleeding moron. And I paid for it all day. Oh holy hangover . . . .
But of course, today is a new day and whatnot, so after working from home today, I decided to check out this local band. Although there was an ulterior motive associated with my seeing this band, a pleasant thing happened. (You were wondering when the heck I was going to get to the point, weren't you?) An old friend got in touch with me out of nowhere. We chatted, and he decided to come with me to this dive bar. I hadn't seen him in probably 2 years, and he hadn't cut his hair in about that amount of time, so while his keeps getting longer, mine mysteriously keeps getting shorter. Complete hair role reversal. I love it! Here's the thing that blew my mind, though: we got along so well, it was almost surreal.
That's not to say we had friction before, but it was like a rebirth of friendship, of kinship and an acknowledgement of the thing I needed the most today. I am always amazed at what the world has to offer me in a mere moment. And I guess I should open my eyes to the possibilities a little more often.
Passionate. Stupid, But Passionate . . .
Oh, Jessie. Will there ever be a time when you decide that it's a good idea to hold your cards to your chest? Boy, does that sound like a good idea. But where practicality is - well, practical - I am not.
Hint: Drinks do not help. STOP TALKING after you've had the right amount of drinks, no matter how passionately how you feel about whatever it is you're babbling about. Really, shut up. SHUT UP. Rinse, and repeat.
Hint: Drinks do not help. STOP TALKING after you've had the right amount of drinks, no matter how passionately how you feel about whatever it is you're babbling about. Really, shut up.
Friday, July 24, 2009
The Infamous Leftie Rogue Fiasco Continues . . .
So after Heather, Angela and I left the Planet Hollywood pool and made our way to our hotel room to change, it seemed I could not live down the rogue leftie experience. Damn you, cannonball!!
That, however, did not last. As it turns out, Ang and Heather both had quite the buzz going, and though I couldn't steer the conversation anywhere else, I of course had to laugh at the international nip show. But as we got into the elevator, swimsuits still dripping with pool water, an amazing thing happened.
The elevator door opened, and one tall and quite handsome guy was standing in the elevator. Alone. Schweet. Then the 3 Stooges enter and push floor 17. The man-stud was on floor 14 or some nonsense. So the three of us chattered and laughed, and my sister looks at Stud and says, "Wow. I feel sorry for you having to ride along with us - " And then she hit the floor.
No, really. As the elevator began to move, my darling sister slipped in her own pool water puddle and landed on the marble elevator floor. Heather laughed so hard that she too fell in her own pool water puddle, and landed next to Angela dear. Jessie somehow remained standing, and just looked at Stud, shrugging my shoulders and laughing like a lunatic on methamphetamine. I had the wherewithal to hold onto that nifty little rail that the elevator men so generously supply, however. Stud laughed uncomfortably and stepped over two bodies and got off on his floor.
Yesss, Jessie remained standing for the remainder of the elevator ride.
SO THEN
We all got ready to go out that evening and Heather put on this adorable one-shouldered black & white shirt over white pants. She looked very cute for a night out on the Vegas strip, and we walked across the street to The Bellagio to watch the water & light show, along with a few thousand other tourists. It was water, and there were lights. Super. But I had an adult beverage riding shotgun with me, and so the show got better as time wore on. At a loss for something to do post light/water show, we decided to run back across the 6 lane street to our hotel for some gambling fun. So, the Walk sign flashes, and Heather, Angela and I jog across the street, when we hear, "Hey!! Nice chest!!" Of course, there are like 3 THOUSAND people in traffic with us, but Heather yells back, "Thanks!!" and keeps running.
I turn around to investigate the commotion, and what sight greets my eyes??? Heather's leftie - swinging outside of her shirt, bobbing up and down with her steps. HAHAHAHAHA! Vengeance is sweet!!
Oh Heather, you'll never live that one down.
That, however, did not last. As it turns out, Ang and Heather both had quite the buzz going, and though I couldn't steer the conversation anywhere else, I of course had to laugh at the international nip show. But as we got into the elevator, swimsuits still dripping with pool water, an amazing thing happened.
The elevator door opened, and one tall and quite handsome guy was standing in the elevator. Alone. Schweet. Then the 3 Stooges enter and push floor 17. The man-stud was on floor 14 or some nonsense. So the three of us chattered and laughed, and my sister looks at Stud and says, "Wow. I feel sorry for you having to ride along with us - " And then she hit the floor.
No, really. As the elevator began to move, my darling sister slipped in her own pool water puddle and landed on the marble elevator floor. Heather laughed so hard that she too fell in her own pool water puddle, and landed next to Angela dear. Jessie somehow remained standing, and just looked at Stud, shrugging my shoulders and laughing like a lunatic on methamphetamine. I had the wherewithal to hold onto that nifty little rail that the elevator men so generously supply, however. Stud laughed uncomfortably and stepped over two bodies and got off on his floor.
Yesss, Jessie remained standing for the remainder of the elevator ride.
SO THEN
We all got ready to go out that evening and Heather put on this adorable one-shouldered black & white shirt over white pants. She looked very cute for a night out on the Vegas strip, and we walked across the street to The Bellagio to watch the water & light show, along with a few thousand other tourists. It was water, and there were lights. Super. But I had an adult beverage riding shotgun with me, and so the show got better as time wore on. At a loss for something to do post light/water show, we decided to run back across the 6 lane street to our hotel for some gambling fun. So, the Walk sign flashes, and Heather, Angela and I jog across the street, when we hear, "Hey!! Nice chest!!" Of course, there are like 3 THOUSAND people in traffic with us, but Heather yells back, "Thanks!!" and keeps running.
I turn around to investigate the commotion, and what sight greets my eyes??? Heather's leftie - swinging outside of her shirt, bobbing up and down with her steps. HAHAHAHAHA! Vengeance is sweet!!
Oh Heather, you'll never live that one down.
Well. Daddy always said that's a deep thought
I hate to sound cliche here, but thank goodness it's Friday. This has been quite the mentally draining week, and for many reasons. I applied to an MBA program here in Charlotte through DeVry University (golf claps or poetry reading snaps here - thanks.), and though I have applied to grad school before, and been accepted thankyouverymuch, I forgot what an inane pain in the arse it is. Can't I just scan my retina somewhere so that my entire academic, personal, and professional history is given and I can finally stop repeating myself, and touting my accomplishments to whomever will listen? How about a pint of blood, while they're at it? Perhaps a strand of my DNA for kicks?
Okay, I'm being slightly overdramatic. I can admit that, but if I've been accepted into one program, wherein lies the difficulty with switching me over? I oversimplify. Eh, oh well. It's my blog, and I can cry if I want to. ;)
Also, it's just been a busy work week, and I'm still not caught up completely. However, I do feel pretty accomplished in that area so I can afford to stop, relax, and breathe a little bit.
It's been a great, busy week! I started a running program, and for those of you who know me personally, I have never claimed to be a runner. But there's something very freeing in the experience and I find myself compelled to run, even on my 'off' days. It forces focus, and pushes every needless issue out of my mind. Also, I am forced to listen to my body, and pay attention to it, and I understand now that I haven't been paying enough heed to it lately. So I am making up for lost time, as it were. Shayla, I understand now why you run, or used to if you don't anymore.
Also new this week: I have a second interview for a finance company - a perfect fit for me, actually, so I am really hoping to dazzle my interviewers on Tuesday. Excellent. Still shopping for that ultimate power suit. ; )
Also in the Jessie Newsreel: I am spending a Friday in a wonderful way. I am babysitting the V-Dub, known as baby Violet to you. She's 7 months old, and the most fascinating kid. She's so expressive and funny, and she's my little darling for the whole day. It's amazing how much babies force you to stop and enjoy the simplicity of life, and of love. Today she grabbed her grandpa's beard and ran her fingers through it, completely mesmerized by this new texture. She grinned and giggled, and fussed a little about it. And now, even though she has her own toy cell phone, she's still in love with mine. I just laugh, because the odds are good that I'll break it way before she does.
With age does not come grace to the hopeless.
Baby V-Dub also loves jeans, and if I look away for a second, she entertains herself by scratching against the grain of my jeans, and by taste testing them at my knees.
All information comes in through the mouth, her grandpa says. And I think he's right.
I have a lot to be thankful for, and even though it's been a banner week on the whole, thank God the weekend is almost here! That's a time to relax, reorganize, and for God's sake, take a breather.
Okay, I'm being slightly overdramatic. I can admit that, but if I've been accepted into one program, wherein lies the difficulty with switching me over? I oversimplify. Eh, oh well. It's my blog, and I can cry if I want to. ;)
Also, it's just been a busy work week, and I'm still not caught up completely. However, I do feel pretty accomplished in that area so I can afford to stop, relax, and breathe a little bit.
It's been a great, busy week! I started a running program, and for those of you who know me personally, I have never claimed to be a runner. But there's something very freeing in the experience and I find myself compelled to run, even on my 'off' days. It forces focus, and pushes every needless issue out of my mind. Also, I am forced to listen to my body, and pay attention to it, and I understand now that I haven't been paying enough heed to it lately. So I am making up for lost time, as it were. Shayla, I understand now why you run, or used to if you don't anymore.
Also new this week: I have a second interview for a finance company - a perfect fit for me, actually, so I am really hoping to dazzle my interviewers on Tuesday. Excellent. Still shopping for that ultimate power suit. ; )
Also in the Jessie Newsreel: I am spending a Friday in a wonderful way. I am babysitting the V-Dub, known as baby Violet to you. She's 7 months old, and the most fascinating kid. She's so expressive and funny, and she's my little darling for the whole day. It's amazing how much babies force you to stop and enjoy the simplicity of life, and of love. Today she grabbed her grandpa's beard and ran her fingers through it, completely mesmerized by this new texture. She grinned and giggled, and fussed a little about it. And now, even though she has her own toy cell phone, she's still in love with mine. I just laugh, because the odds are good that I'll break it way before she does.
With age does not come grace to the hopeless.
Baby V-Dub also loves jeans, and if I look away for a second, she entertains herself by scratching against the grain of my jeans, and by taste testing them at my knees.
All information comes in through the mouth, her grandpa says. And I think he's right.
I have a lot to be thankful for, and even though it's been a banner week on the whole, thank God the weekend is almost here! That's a time to relax, reorganize, and for God's sake, take a breather.
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