Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning and felt like I'd spent a few hours in the fridge. My significant other and I were tucked inside a quilt like two pigs in a blanket (except no toasty wienies here).
I shivered my way to the source and scuttled down the hall. I flicked; on the light switch for some illuminated guidance. Oddly, I was faced with the absence of light. So distracted from my initial task II went to checked the breaker box. Nothing had been tripped. Lovely. We had just brought someone in who fixed some electrical problems just the day before!
Brrr! I trembled, very perplexed. Then my attention flips over back to the lack of heat. I turned the temperature up assuming the morning hours had become more frigid due to weather. I then slipped back into bed, scootching my feet in the warm pocket that had been left from beneath my dog's tummy.
*Blink Blink*
Dang! Now I was fully awake. Thus I couldn't help but be a ware that the usually audible pilot light click was missing. I knew then that the furnace was NOT going to kick in.
Back to the thermostat I went, to fidget with the slider switch much like how a person lifts the hood of their broken down car only to stare confused at the heap of engine parts. I had no idea how to fix it.
Bring in yesterdays cavalry and much thumping around we now have a temporary cord juicing the contraption. At least we won't freeze over the next few days until the handyman can come back.
This morning has been a mess of surprises I could do without... Like how strangely my kitchen is now less a coat closet due to this fiasco. Dear BF is in charge of the situation knowing the grim details, but I'm NOT ASKING.
Finally, I started painting again! It's been such a long time since I'd done anything creative. My confidence was so low I wouldn't even let myself doodle for the longest time.
I spent a lot of time mourning over long ago strife with my art. The hardest part was living with the knowledge that art was everything I ever was, that I had let it all slip through my fingers and drop. Coming to terms with the fact that I wasn't living some life-long sentence of artistic hell, that I was actually on hiatus, THAT was taxing.
There is a lot of baggage that comes with creativity. If it isn't yourself, then it's society condemning it's worth. If you know anyone pursuing an artistic life, know how difficult it really is. Putting your heart out there for the world to see, endlessly judged on every nuance. That's a heavy cross to bare.
Sometimes it's the little things that make you fold. Want to give it up and slink away. The monotony of comments from strangers or family can be overwhelming. I guess what I'm trying to say is talent can feel like a disfigurement if it isn't appreciated. Art needs more nurturing and less prejudice.
Be inspired.
Value self expression.
Keep in touch with your creative side... We are all gifted.
Picture: Wet Paint ©1930 SEPS: Licensed by Curtis Publishing, Indianapolis, IN
I held off posting this entry because I was afraid my feathers getting ruffled was my own problem... But alas, I'll take a go at being ballsey and put it up anyway!...
I've been trying to decide which direction I should take with this blog entry. Do I dig my talons into a ratty U.S. judge or the shit-for-brains law makers right here in my beloved country Canada?
If you haven't heard, a Buffalo, N.Y., teacher has been convicted of having sex with his 15-year old student. The judge's unprecedented ruling offered the offender a chance to avoid a one-year jail sentence by accepting a three-year exile to Canada.
WTF? Since when did we become an easy out for dealing with pedophiles in the U.S. judicial and penal system? Are we an opportunity to save U.S. citizens tax dollars from being spent building jails and funding rehabilitation programs? Also, since when does a criminal afford a choice on how he serves his sentence?
Being banished to Canada isn't a punishment by any means given our free healthcare and absolute rediculous age of consent at a measly 14 (except when being in a position of trust, making it criminal). Being free to reside in the country that is home to his wife and children doesn't seem like such a deprivation.
Out of sight and out of mind is a corrupt attitude towards discipline. It's about time for everyone to be accountable for their actions, or lack of action.
Otherwise, in the end, suffer the children as it is they who and pay the price.
I am most certainly tired. Just not enough sleep.
These days lack so much focus and suffer as a result. Thank goodness I've been able to get a few things done and out of the way come night time. I'd feel like a total slouch if it weren't for those productive little spurts. Maybe its the veil of darkness shielding my eyes from the bleak sky that make the evening hours ideal. Such a cold and colorless backdrop outside these days. Unarguably dreary and mundane.
I've wrapped my furry sidekick in my jacket draping the back of my office chair. I can't help but notice there's about as much hair on it as the dog it covers. Dopey from the dregs of morning her sleep seems more peaceful than mine.
*yawn*
At the moment this short entry will have to do. I need to stretch awake and somehow tug my eyes open from the heaviness before it seals them.
My going back to bed is not a better option...
Even if it is a tempting one.
It's been a peculiar week fueled by coffee and other urban addictions. I've been so tired. Groggy during the day, so much so I've been sleeping in. Thank God for a conscientious bedfellow. Letting me escape the mundane morning routine of breakfast, attending to urgent canine bladders and what not.
Fall has christened the yard with a rainbow of leaves, frosting them over. The world feels ready to pull out the covers. A blanket of snow seeming only days away. I too long to hibernate from this steely grey. These dark days of winter.
Out come the wooly socks, heavy jackets, and fleece throw for the sofa. The nip in the air is formidable, enough that even the dog has been donning a sweater. It's mid October and the furnace is already struggling with the need for heat. I'm overwhelmed with the urge to stockpile hoards of the goods produced by demented baking.
Winter is certainly on it's way.
My dogs scarfed down their supply of treats in record breaking time this weekend. None or not, their whining persisted past bedtime. I resorted to divvying up my own goodies for some peace and quiet. A bribe in effort to give my ears a rest until they finally decided to wind down.
And so begins my Monday morning.
Speckles greeted the day by pooping on the sidewalk again. What a lousy way to greet the day. Her flair for food ingestion, digestion, and ejection astounds me.
Amelie hoarded her provided 'shudder-up' cookie from last night. She must have dutifully buried it upon waking while no one was looking. How do I know that? The tell-tale dirt moustache gave it away.
She's a creature of habit. Frequently stealing off to stash the odd treat or what not but rarely gets to taste the fruit of her labor. Speckles finds and tummies those treasures. Others are likely winged off in flight of thieving birds (judging from the bone resting up on the garage roof ). I guess that lends reason to their greedy behavior. Why dogs hide off into their own select corners, gulping most delectables down in an instant. Have you ever seen our domestic furry counterparts actually settle down and slowly savor anything? Other than the occasional belly rub, I'd say anything resembling subdued pleasure is unlikely. It's a dog eat dog world, ain't it?
Eesh. I was doing fairly well emotionally, until last night. Damn, it was like falling on my ass. Painful and hard to get back on my feet, yah know? Probably fault of hormone flux. PMS can be such a bitch. Literally.
Name: Thomas J. Ashton
Age: 21
Killed at: World Trade Center
From city: New York
Ashton was a political science major at St. Francis College in Brooklyn until May, when he announced to his parents that he was leaving college to become an electrician.
"He was determined to do this because he was impatient and really just wanted to start his life," his mother said. "He and his girlfriend were looking forward to a future. He wanted to start making money and have a goal. The electrical industry gave him a goal to shoot for."
The announcement was met with some objections from his parents, who urged him to finish working toward his bachelor's degree. Following through with his promise to manage both endeavors, he had registered for college the night before the terror attack.
Sept. 10 was Ashton's first day at electricians school. On his second day on the job as an apprentice with Local 3 in Manhattan, he was sent to the 95th floor of the World Trade Center's north tower to work alongside an electrician, and that's where he was when the first plane hit.
Excerpt profile courtesy of THE CHICAGO TRIBUNE
Yep, I've been tagged!
Here's the game: Write the 1st word that pops in your head when you read these words
(my answers are included here):
pleasure - center
secret - place
candy - colored
stigma - infliction
erotic - musings
Jane (who snuck up and tagged me) offers a way out if you don’t want to join in the game: Just pretend you didn’t read this and you didn’t see my message on your blog.
I dutifully tag 5 unsuspecting bloggers:
lizzy b
carol
milt
zazzafooky
mainja
A belated 'homage' to Labor day, better late than never...
The worst ways to get fired.
Her are some examples of a few companies' stunningly warm & fuzzy behaviors.
There is no excuse for being meanies, just because your bigger than someone.
Lordy, was I busy last night! My dreaming took me back to an old place I used work. It made me realize just how hard the job was, and how difficult things were for me. I woke up glad to be done with that miserable bit of my life. Just thinking about it makes my brain hurt.
The adult in me would love to tell those Soddy little buggers off. Too many of my co-workers and peers alienated me, nervy enough to think I was less than, or too bitchy. I built up a wall of defense. Surprise, surprise. Oh, and some of the customers (we had to call them 'guests') were the only bitter pill I had to swallow at the time. I bumped into one of the few people I did get along with about a year ago. She did have the guts to call them on their jerkiness, then quit. It made me feel better knowing someone finally put them in their place (Thanks, Tammy).
It's no wonder I had such a frenzied dream. I went to bed keyed up. I'm not sure if I was jazzed up by my nocturnal instincts or med increase, but a pattern is becoming evident. I'm going to have to put on my thinking hat and do some research. Bless the internet for making discovery a little bit easier. I'm hoping that this potent cocktail has enough kick to get me back in the swing of things.
* Cross your fingers. *
Imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning and felt like I'd spent a few hours in the fridge. My significant other and I were tucked inside a quilt like two pigs in a blanket (except no toasty wienies here).
