jack is a good gardener

UFC 100

to celebrate the most anticipated rematch in UCF history, we're going to watch the event at our pal Jerry's house. he has a projector, so the fighters are life size which makes it even more exciting.

i like to contribute to the spread, and since there are lots of guys who like spicy goodies, it's a nice place to flash my spicy cookie muscles.

i use this recipe minus the cinnamon and triple the amount of cayenne. this time too, because we had them, i used white chocolate chips instead of the chunks (though i do love the chunks).

tracking

i learn my way through the city
from one farm stand to the next

great white

i watched as the modern world burst open.

from below, the bellowing of twisted metals
churning into new shapes and the pain
of asphalt and earth shattering
as the metals reach uninhibited for the skyline.

bold white tubes of steel with tracks like tendrils
sweep past me with ballet finesses
smooth but devastating.

i watched as the people here clamber aboard
the great white beasts and ride their veins
like children on roller coasters
swift, gleeful interludes to the morning commute.

the screams of joy indistinguishable
from the agony of the planet, as monsters burst
in all shapes in all cities
from Umeda to Brookline
the world is waking up.

Dream Me Umeda

a handsome man you seem to know
takes you to a love hotel
overlooking the glowing rivers
you see the future in sickly tremors
bright yellow poisons
seeping from hidden positions
but in the hotel you're separated
what kind of love hotel is this?
frustrated and angry flee
only to get lost in the city
a man points out a fruit stand
you're in Umeda, he screams
smiling and waving his hand
this is the best part he demands
pointing upwards as ferris wheels
with people on board
are raised like giant white monsters
in the middle of an unfamiliar square
where a small italian girl
helps you find the subway grid
and gets you home just in time
to realize you'll be late again
but healthy old women assure
there's no work to be done any more
relax, have breakfast and forget about that man
you thought you loved
but couldn't have

ailing me

obligations are responses
in careful order and these ones
to falling asleep
while watching a piece
on Leonard Cohen.

i waned in and out
of the selfish state
some kind of paralysis
while wainrights, caves and crockers
sang songs of his
and told stories of discovery
and beautiful first encounters.

i relived mine in a dream
where i spoke with Leonard as he stood
wearing a nice suit
telling me about his father
and describing his obsessions
over women and mythologies.

asleep on a sofa
with a cat at my feet
until i woke and teared again
against all the social means
have made myself ill
with sick thoughts and self loathing.

if i could just accept it
Leonard told me to embrace it
but when i wake the guilt settles in
and i begin to think of everyone else
what to do for them
at the epoch of my tragedy.

the tale of a carrot cake

First of all... thank you to Mary K, Ana-Maria Bell and Nicole Beaudoin for introducing me to carrot cake. I always thought I hated carrot cake. But oh, how wrong was I! oh, so very very wrong!

I always thought I hated carrot cake. I suppose I just never tried good carrot cake. I'm not a fan of walnuts in... anything ('sept the odd maple ice cream), and seeing as how lots of carrot cake has them in, it's sort of natural that I just assumed I wouldn't like carrot cake. Also, how desperate was the person who first put carrots in cake? Or... how pregnant?

Regardless, I'm not the sort of person to turn down trying something new (even if it's a something I think I probably don't like). Nicole brought a lovely carrot cake into the office one afternoon and since I'd not remembered the last time I ever tried carrot cake, I did (try it I mean). And it was better than I thought. Actually, it was pretty marvelous.

So then when little miss Ana-Maria made carrot cake cupcakes and kindly offered me one, I decided to go for it. Variety--you know, to confirm that I liked it. And I did (like it I mean).

Fast forward a few months to Bunny's hen party: Mary K shows up with a box of little cakes. One of these types of little cakes has carrot-shaped frosting designs. I had one of them for breakfast and guess what? I LOVED IT!

That's when I decided I had to make my own. So I went researching until I found THIS recipe via food gawker.

So tonight, my lovely wife Liz came over and we made this little carrot cake together ^_^ which turned out rather marvelous.

I exchanged oil for apple sauce (as I wasn't taking Ryan's tastes into concideration and I am rather found of the way apple sauce substitutes for oil as a healthy and moister alternative) and we added a bit more spice than we were meant. It was amazing. Moist, sweet, happy carrot cake.

Because it was so lovely and I'm sure to make it again soon, I want to preserve it (as a recipe and a little story). So here it is:

Ingredients
1 cup all purpose flour
1 cup granulated sugar
2 servings of Motts' no-sugar-added apple sauce (i bought the individually portioned cups because they were on sale and i can take one to school or work instead of having a half full jar in the fridge)
2 large eggs
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp nutmeg
1/2 tsp all spice
1 tsp cinnamon
pinch of salt
2 cups of finely shredded carrots (large, organic, sweet, juicy)

Directions
Combine sugar and apple sauce in a large bowl until mixed well. Incorporate eggs. Add eggs one at a time, beating well (i just used a fork and it came out splendiferous).

Combine flour, spices, baking soda and baking powder together. Add dry ingredients to wet mix and stir until fully incorporated.

Feel free to add nuts, raisins, whatever. (Because it was my first go at carrot cake, I kept it really simple.)

Pour into two, greased 7" round pans (or 9" or square or cupcake tins or whatever you have lying around...).

Cook at 350 degrees for 25 minutes or until the top is slightly brown or a toothpick can pierce the cake without any gooey cake insides stuck on it when you pull it out.

Cream Cheese Frosting
Beat 8oz of cream cheese with 1/2 cup (one stick) of unsalted butter until mixed well. Add 1 tsp of vanilla extract and 1 and 1/2 cups of confectioners sugar. Beat on low speed until combined. Add cream cheese, vanilla and/or sugar to taste. I added extra vanilla for a slightly less cheesy taste.

These amounts for the frosting will give you a thin layer for a two layer cake. You may choose to make more frosting for decorating. For the carrots I made, I used gel color to make a small amount of green and orange frosting, then pipped the design by hand (obviously, ha!).

the key to joy

(and why i've been a miserable lump lately)

i prefer to keep my negative emotions a secret. in part because i feel selfish when i lay all my worries and hurts on the table (especially in front of people with their own worries and hurts to deal with), and in part because often it's just easier to throw those worries and hurts to the way side.

chin up, smile the blues away, la-de-da.

i also like to keep negative emotions locked away for preservation of character. i place great importance in being liked and respected by others. i do whatever i can to be kind and am always thinking of others (putting others before myself). i work hard and try to keep a positive exterior to earn the respect and affection of others. when people think of me, i want them to think positively.

but the price of keeping everything under wraps (pretending to be happy jolly katy) is starting to take its toll on me. the other night, while working at two brothers pizza, i began to fall apart. the clock ticked by slower than ever, the tickets kept coming, it was hot, i was angry and sad and self pitying. my ill mental state soon manifested in the physical state of shaking, vomiting and crying (all of which no one working with me seemed to notice... they all just assumed i was hot? tired? what?). by 10 of 10 i couldn't take it any more. i asked someone to finish for me and clocked out.

before going home i curled up in a ball in my car and sobbed. i was paralyzed with unhappiness. after 10 or so minutes, i muscled up and made it home as fits of rage and depression washed through me.

i got in the door, fell to the kitchen floor and dialed by boss, jimmy, who i'd just left without much of a word. though i'd given in my two week notice and this was my first of the last four nights of work there, i completely broke down. the call was to apologize for leaving the work place dirty still, and to tell him i was finished.

really finished.

what followed was what one looking in from the outside might title a panic attack (that's what ryan called it). what it felt like was the shattering of bones. the compression of organs. i could barely breath between uncontrollable sobs. that sounds melodramatic and writing about it feels false, but there was a complete breakage of being last night that i need to acknowledge.

i didn't just break, i'm still broken. i'm fragile and fatigued and just... well... unhappy. and although ryan doesn't want me to... i can't help but feel guilty, selfish and at fault for all my unhappiness.

my grandfather passed away not long ago now. the funeral service was a nice closing statement to his legacy. but it was that very funeral, whenever anyone said the phrase "better place", that i had my suspicions confirmed. i do not believe in life after death. i've heard so many people talk about it, feel it, know it, but i've never had to believe it myself until this loss. i'm not dealing with the loss well because i cannot believe that there is anything more to him now... what he had was amazing. he fought, loved, lived. he was an amazing character and a wonderful man, but he's just dust now. dust inside a pretty box. having realized this... maybe what i'm going through now is similar to what a child goes through when she first realizes she isn't imortal afterall. it's like crying because you see blood coming out of your knee even though it doesn't really hurt. the blood is proof that she can die.

i've tried to react positively to the news that we all die, that we don't come back as goats or bees or princesses or ghosts or angels. we don't come back. my rational reaction then, is to live this life to the absolute. i want to live, to accomplish, to be happy and healthy and vibrant. and i want to make this life the best for the people around me too. i'll have a cupcake if i want one, because this is heaven. saturday, i'm going to eat a cheeseburger from white hut and ride on the best rollercoaster in the world. i'm going to live. and i have a life partner who feels the same way, which should make it easier.

problem with this? yeah... that bit about making life better for everyone else... it overshadows the bit about me living.

i worked at two brothers for two years. i worked there fore three months too many. i should have put in my notice when i got back from japan. but i felt selfish feeling upset there (a terrible circle, i know, and i'm coming to realize this). i hate to give up, to throw in the towel. i'm apollo creed in his match against the russian. and two brothers sucked all the life out of me, all the fighting energy. maintaning a smile there... impossible. i had to give up. i just didn't do it soon enough and ended up making a fool of myself.

i made a fool of myself... stupid thing to say. i broke down. how is that foolish? well... i guess i let it get to that point in the first place, but the truth is, everyone is allowed to feel sorry for themselves once in a while right?

my grandfather's death, working hard at a shitty job with little reward and a lot of bother... those aren't the only matters at hand.

there's school too.

this thesis i'm writing is the hardest thing i've had to do. the hardest part is though, that i know if i set myself to it i could do it in a couple days and be done with it. so the actual work isn't the problem. the problem is this wall i've built between the real world and myself. i'm so scared of finishing school... so petrified of graduating. but why? self doubt maybe... fear of leaving the nerf envirnment supplied within these grey walls of the university? yeah. and fear of having to answer to someone, the fear of making real mistakes. those fears out weigh the potential for making a real world difference, for being successful.

thinking about it yesterday... even though it was for a class, i did actually make $1,000 for the animal shelter, and i could easily do it 100 more times. there's so much potential out there for me (within me), but i'm a nervous wreck about stepping out.

i don't want to be finished with school. but at the same time, i want to. i want to build a cook book of all my favorite recipes. i want to paint bird houses and hang them up on all the trees in my back yard. i want to write a graphic novel with my brother. i want to write grants. i want to blog and write poetry more. i want to live without the burdon of a paper and meetings with stan.

so what the hell is stopping me? fear?

i think about this all the time... this irrational fear that i can see through, but can't walk through... then i get frustrated with myself, angry at myself, and i shut down. i cry, i sleep, i waste days in front of the watch-it-now netflix que on our xbox 360... i waste a day and then i get even more upset at myself. the vicious cycle.

i get so mad, so scared, so unhappy that it makes my stomach hurt. that's when i try to supress it all, try to cover it all up and put on a smile. that's when i appologize to my friends for being tired or stressed, but smile and listen to their woes anyway. really, sometimes, i just want to explode, but i carry on for the better of those around me.

and it's not doing me any good.

but i still don't know how to be happy... i still don't know what the key is or what it unlocks. not yet anyway.

down

pile her up over pergo and vinyl
patterns on rotation
on display through Monday

then take her down
battered and worn
to sell for more

when the eyes fade
into the pools of the attack
the empty tissue box has stories

budding foodie

I took the "Are you a Foodie?" quiz on facebook the other day and got a top score. I had to guess all the questions about foods with French names, but I guess my daily visits (addiction) to foodgawker has actually taught me about more than just cupcakes.

I was surprised at the quiz results. I know it's just a facebook quiz that could have been made by just about anyone (although, I suspect my high school Spanish teacher), but it still hadn't occurred to me that I might be a foodie. Maybe Ryan's fanatic burger enthusiasm and thirst for exciting, new food adventures has rubbed off on me a bit, but then there's also my new love for food which has stemmed from my weight loss.

Ah, weight loss. I have lost weight (note, past tense), but I still work every single day--no, every meal--to keep those pounds off. Working in an ice cream shop doesn't exactly make the maintenance easy either.

Settling into a new healthier weight sounds easy, but it's proving to be just as difficult as the weight loss process itself. Falling into old bad habits, like allowing yourself a little sugar in your tea or opting for an egg cooked in butter instead of oil, is too easy.

My solution to falling backwards has to be a continuous effort to negotiate with myself; to take a few minutes before each meal or snack to decide if, for example, a small ice cream with hot fudge or a slice of pepperoni and bacon pizza is really worth the same to me as a day full of fresh fruits, veggies, or an oh-so-lovely earl gray soy latte. These are my daily battles with food. Comfort food is such a strong and debilitating crutch. Trying to run without it is nearly impossible at times, but what I can do is re-define comfort.

Dropping the "food" from comfort is a gigantic leap, and one I'm not sure I'm totally ready for yet. So instead, how about comfort cooking? This is where the foodie buds appear. Food blogs and recipe sites (including Weight Watchers' website) are my arsenal towards building a comfort cooking base. Instead of sneaking into the fridge or cupboards to gaze over the foods there, I can turn on the computer and drool over the innumerable beautiful displays of food available. This satiates that craving the mind has for food. I fantasize about food. We all do. Think, how many times have you turned to food out of boredom? Peeking around the kitchen is not a reaction to hunger, and so the virtual food curbs the same cravings. But that's not all...

Food blogs and the like actually work to inspire me to try new ingredients and combinations. Who ever came up with roasting oranges and asparagus together must have been terribly bored, but wow.

So maintenance is about experimenting for me. The more new, healthier habits I form now, the more successful I become and the better I feel physically and mentally. My next adventure comes tomorrow when, for the first time in the four years I've lived in Sandwich, I'm going to visit the local farmers' market. The quest: to see what awesome stuff I can come home with for $20. Should be exciting.

red, white and blue

happy 4th!

asexual stevedore

for jenni baker




i saw an old mexican totting a cigar
his belly a mild bulge from beer and salsa con queso

construction workers building boats in locks
in skullies and sullen brows in Essex

ignore Carmen's dance, the floral tease
who pleasures herself then cries to sleep on the weekends

their interconnected miserable desires missed out
to the bear learning tricks for the circus

Eulogy to Pa

Robert Regan, affectionatly known to me as Pa, was born on October 31st of 1934 and died on June 10th of 2009. His funeral service was held at St. Mary's in Dedham on June 26th. I read the following at his service:


Pa had a red pick up truck. When I was little. I don’t know exactly how little… when we lived in the apartments at Bahama Drive and he would come visit, I could see his red truck from my bedroom window. I’d get so excited to be the first one to see him coming I’d shout Pa’s Truck! So fast and enthusiastically that it came out of my mouth (with a Boston accent) PARK! So I called him Park for the first part of my life.

But a red pick up truck is not the icon I associate closest with my Pa. To this day, it’s a piece of ripped paper towel that always makes me think of him.


When Meaghan and I were little, Mom and Dad used to take us to Pa and Irene’s house where we’d spend the day playing bar tender at Pa’s Budweiser Emporium in the basement. The bar was fancy, done up in everything Bud from a singing can to a clydesdale clock. I remember my favorite thing to do was use his ice crusher. Meaghan and I used to sing on Irene’s microphone. We’d venture into the wilds of the unfinished half of the basement to get ice pops from the freezer. For a while, too, there was a fish tank full of colorful neons and a little frog until Pa was kind enough to adopt Meaghan’s beta fish and it ate every last living thing in the tank.

Most of all though, I remember one very brief moment clearer than anything. It was a moment where something was said that probably didn’t have the weight and meaning behind it that I associate with it today. I was trying to tear a piece of paper towel off the roll and only got most of it off. A corner hung off the roll. Pa pulled it off and handed it to me and he said “Regans always use the whole piece of paper towel.”

It didn’t mean anything. Except it means everything to me now. Pa was never the kind of person to do something in part. He always finished what he started. He always took the whole piece, the whole project. He took life whole. He loved with his whole heart. And h e fought with his whole spirit and nerve.


So now not only do I take the whole piece of paper towel, but I take on the whole of life and love. Pa taught me to live life to the fullest. To be whole. And although a little piece of life feels like it’s missing now. It really isn’t. He lived his whole life the way he wanted to, and this, this is part of life too. As hard as it is now, he’s brought us together, brought us together to remember him as a whole person who impacted the whole lives of everyone around him.

Missing him is part of the whole.

bio grog

(a pro-earth pirate mission statement)

ahar! least i be worried, yar,
of the land be gettin' smaller

for i am a beard what sails the seas
of the world from port to port

but the fishin' been sparse
since you land lubbers started

harken yer cares to the wayside
and killin' all yer animals and trees

how's a pirate to avoid gettin' scurvy
if you lubbers can't grow a lime? harhar!

so i be brewing a new grog
that'll put golden hairs on yer chest

made from all natural, organic
secret ingredients from the depths

yarhaaaar!!!

human cat

rowdy learned to drink water from a bottle after seeing his big bro jack do it.



now whenever anyone drinks water water from a bottle, rowdy wants some too. he's cute, but annoyingly persistant.

image by ana-maria bell

shenanigan dreams and hoopla scenes

this place is burned into my memory
so vivid, so sad, what if i am the butterfly?

i close my eyes and i see
swimming through the warm pools of my memory
the silhouette of a figurine in the corner
tinkering with lullabies
in the blue truth of bitterness

a tricky fairy plays in the drapes
she is whimsical and a little mean
dimpled and plump like a friendly fire

i know this place so well i see it
sculpted in daisies and gumdrops

but if thunder should crack
to break the seal of this fuzzy whimsy
i would wake to see dina
trying on dresses and shoes
the sequins catching the lingering light
and reflecting through an old bent mirror

you can't

i told her you can't
come up to a strange bloke
kiss him like that
then smile like that
and just walk away
like that.

dang muttonchops

a frugal dawn approaches
the tenacious, sinking smell
of such a lemon dawn

in a pickle, what to do,
when in your dreams
you wear trousers in luxorious lam'e?

watch through lampshades

as kittens jump rope over the bones
of the failed lollipop monkeyshines
leaving acceptable twinkles.

Tony and Caroline

Tony is the DARE officer
at the local elementary school.

Caroline is a hair school teacher
and championship billiards player.

Tony breeds German shepherds, works out,
and goes deep sea fishing on the weekends.

Caroline follows the stock market and
wears lipstick and dresses to the grocery store.

Tony met Caroline during career day
in Mrs. Banner's class

at Tony's elementary school
where Caroline's niece attends the third grade.

to demonstrate her skills in front of the class
Caroline gave Tony a new hair cut.

the whole class agreed it suited him better
and that the two would make a fine pair.

to appease the hoards of children,
Tony asked Caroline on a date, and she accepted.

they went to dinner at a restaurant on the beach
and shared stories from their childhood.

dinner ended and as the sun set
Tony and Caroline held hands

walking down the beach in the orange glow
of dusk, avoiding small waves and sharp rocks.

the further they walked, the darker it got,
and the more stars they could see in the sky

until all other light disappeared
into the blue and white and yellow of the night

the stars grew bigger and brighter
and the couple felt as though they had walked for centuries

together, hand in hand, they walked
all the way into a different world

where wonder and love make the days glow longer
and the nights shine brighter

and monsters are defeated by honesty,
inner beauty and good intentions.

Tony and Caroline walked all the way
around the globe of this other world

until they made it back to the parking lot
where Tony's DARE car sat waiting

to take Caroline home where Tony left her
with a sweet good night kiss

and a promise to take her back
to that wonderful world they discovered together.


if there's a rocket tie me to it by snow patrol

sleepy sunday afternoon

pink

you offer condolence
all in forms of grace

and shades of roses
never before created

by nature or nurture
to hold with watery eyes

the memories of a man
so loved from afar.

Robert Regan

step one

drying her hair in
a festival of teas, scented soaps
and roses
dancing between arts
avoiding the painful heart of matters

4044

frank left me four pages
to share my monday night
dreams. i match his four
with tree rippened peaches
and raise the ocean as in
such a violent dream he
couldn't bare to trade.

it erupted from the colors
of sea side paintings. the
light blue of the sky
toying with the white
clouds and the dark blue
depths of the ocean capped
with that same tourmented
white. browns both faint
and strong depict the sand
and the people.

umar was packing, saying
how much the same
room had cost him. he
couldn't see the breaking
of time and the place
as i could.

waves crashing against
irrisponsible journalists
and bags filled with sand.

lights from the ferris
wheel flickered in and out
of view behind buidlings
amidst the growing fog
of this, a dark city.

the patio was lit too
perfect for the end of
the world, but i sat on
the soft cusions anyway
and watched him pack --
completely unaware of the
painting coming to life
behind him. the shinigami
crawled between us.

so this i understood,
the room was not cheap
for me either.

the people's awesome

mountain people

there is a town at the foot of the mountain
where all different kinds of people and animals live
in peace and curiosity.

the people and animals all come out of the mountain
from various lives on various worlds in various times
to live together at the foot of the mountain.

the people and animals have their memories
of previous lives and loves and losses,
and for some people it is hard to live there.

there are no myths about the mountain
only theories and questions, like do they die
when they come out of the mountain? or is that how they are born?

is life inside the mountain, inside their memories
a dream or a hoax? or is this life in this town
at the foot of the mountain, actually the dream?







inspired by: this video

blogging

i've been reading Richard Herring's Blog lately. as a result, i too want to blog. not just poetry and youtube links, but proper blog entries like this one. okay, maybe a bit more interesting than this post, but similar pattern of introduction, interesting point, and end. maybe even a few links or pictures now and again.

unfortunately, i haven't much interesting to say. i could write on any manner of topics, but nothing is quiet as relevant as the writing i am not doing (namely, thesis). oh look, a topic! my thesis.

i hate talking about my thesis though, so this will never work!

before i settle into said thesis this afternoon, ryan is coming home for lunch (and liz is coming over too as a matter of fact). then i am off to check my schedule at the pizza joint and visit my bank. after that, it's home and focusing on thesis work for a few hours before suiting up and heading back to the pizza joint for a few solid hours of work.

i don't know how many people would be interested in a regular blogging experience here, or how many people will be put off the idea (as they're more interested in my poetry - i promise to continue to write poetry though, and perhaps even put a poem at the end of every regular post). but... i think i may give this a try either way. i think i need it right now.

*****

the giant's foot laced up with trees
stomps through towns in the country
where little people plant crops
for the coast and sake of modern art

dear mr steven moffat,

i believe bjork should play a doctor who alien.



now, this happens to be one of my all time favorite bjork tunes, but the video exemplifies her oddities. a dress made of little bells. only in Iceland.

the inertia

for Nicole Beaudoin

he watches carefully
as the breath of the subway
plays with her hair

forward flow at the stops
and back at the go
like an indecisive wind

light and small and purple
there's a greek goddess on the boston T
and he catches her eye, finally

the look that triggers his imagination
to wonder what greek goddesses
do after dinner parties...

i have a like

this morning, from le vie en bleu

we don't need to be in love

we can hold hands
find shapes in the clouds
and share stories
of our most embarrassing moments
as the offspring of suburbanites

we can play twenty questions
and word association
or tie flowers together
to make necklaces that make us sneeze

we can make up superhero identities
then plot our escape from some super villain
and save the world side by side

we can catch caterpillars
and guess what they'll look like as butterflies

we can be friends

anything to expidite my parachutte blues

PROMPT 13: A man has a terrifying dream in which he is being sawn in half. He wakes to find himself in the Indian Ocean, naked and clinging to a door; a hotel keycard is clenched in his teeth. Write what happens next.

Leonardo DiCaprio is watching from above,
cooing commands in his boy-wonderful voice
like an angel with strange hair.

the dessert wasn't as warm as he expected
but the water is nice and the air is dry
the fish are red and the turtles swim below the surface.

like Leo said it would, the door unlocks
when he tries the key but he doesn't want to go through it.
the key says Marriot... he thinks... they have those?

no one knows what's happening to him, not even Leo,
who recommends he lay off the magic for a while
hang up his cape and take up a new hobby

like fishing. now would be a great time to start fishing.

i deleted Thesis In Action

thesis in action was my thesis-related blog with zero readers. i started the blog to get my advisor's attention (if you knew him, you'd understand). i told him i started the blog, which he thought was fantastic, then never ever ever so much as looked at it.

the blog started as a collating spot for all my research. there were some article reviews, for example. i also included outlines and drafts at first. but then i began using it to complain about my thesis. how much i hate writing it, hate the topic, hate the blog, hate myself, etc. so i deleted it. it's better off not being seen.

i've never deleted a blog before, but it felt good. really good. i think in part because it was filled with so much negativity towards the work i need to be doing right now. in fact, on my way to school i was thinking about this post. i was thinking about dicussing why i dislike my thesis so much and why it's taking me so long. about how whenever anyone asks me what it's about i just shrug, throw out a few big words until their eyes glaze over and then declair "it's stupid really". but whining about my thesis isn't going to get it done. and if i just get to it, i'm sure it won't be that bad in the end.

i just wish i didn't hate it ^_^

pretty alli

we've had alli since november of 2007 and it's taken her a while, but i'm completely confident now that she feels at home. this morning i spent some time playing with her and her pretty pink ribbon and she purred louder than i've heard her purr yet. cats purring is without a doubt my favorite sound. to hear her so loud was heart warming. i'm so pleased she feels as happy as she appears to now, what with such a tumultuous introduction to our home.

have a wanting for...

...cute owl necklace clock

and shark attack tee

juvinate (drabble)

after 22 years of service in space, dr. golden was hardened, disagreeable, pessimistic and sad. he was thirsty for something he couldn't prescribe. hungry for something he couldn't find on board. and his appetite grew, his stomach turned in a dull rage as he watched the strange young woman's eyes flutter open. her eyes glued to first pilot toby. their fingers tangled together, hands locked, lips forming awkward smiles. golden left the infirmary after checking her status.

he paced slowly but furiously towards the sauna. he could be alone, could cry without being seen or heard. wasting in heavy envy. 

coming out of the cupbaord

Today, I became a Lifetime Member of Weight Watchers.

I started Weight Watchers in October of 2008. I weighed almost 180. And no amount of Wii Fit was going to help because I didn't know what I was doing when it came to food. I didn't care what I was doing with food. I just ate it.

Seeing pictures of myself made me feel disgusted with the way I looked. My self confidence was null. I was always dressing to cover up embarrassing curves and bulges. It got to the point where I was always thinking about my weight, always negative, and always hiding.

At the point where my confidence (or lack there of) started effecting my relationship with Ryan, I decided to do something. My doctor was the one who recommended Weight Watchers as a solution to my weight concerns.

Within a week of seeing my doctor, I attended my first meeting. I've gone every single week since then (except for the two weeks we spent in Japan). I went through rain, snow, sickness, and even made it the day my car wouldn't start thanks to Ryan.

I lost 30 pounds and am now a healthy 140. My dress size went from a 12-14 to a 6-8! That confidence I'd lost? Back. I feel fantastic. I even bought my very first bikini (always been a tankini or one-piece kinda girl). I have a little jean mini skirt that I love.
But it hasn't been easy. You can't just go to meetings and viola! The way I eat is so different now. Since starting, my relationship with food and the way I think about has changed drastically. For a starter, I actually THINK about what I'm eating.

You may have noticed more posts about food (cupcakes in particular) and you're thinking... hold on here... she's a cupcake fiend, how'd she lose weight!?

Weight Watchers doesn't limit what you can eat. I can have all the cupcakes I want as long as I count them. When I say count, I'm referring to the daily and weekly points system that Weight Watchers uses to help track your food intake.

The difference between the way I used to enjoy cupcakes, and the way I enjoy them now, is so different. Instead of just eating them, I bake them. From scratch. I make the batter, the frosting, everything. The process of baking and decorating (especially with friends) is so much more rewarding than just chomping. Having worked towards making the lovely cakes also means that by the time I get to eat mine, I enjoy it so much more than I would have otherwise because I've looked forward to it.

I don't just bake cupcakes though. I've learned to be more patient in the kitchen. Instead of going for a cereal bar or candy bar or whatever other kind of bar, I take my time to cut and cook vegetables. My breakfast is thought about, measured out, and carefully arranged for maximum pretty.

I take the time to look at the nutrition facts of everything I eat before I buy it at the store, and when I cook, I know everything that goes into my meals. Just that awareness alone is enough to motivate me into making healthy eating choices (which soon become habits, which soon manifest as positive weight loss).

I eat so many more fruits and veggies than I ever did before, and I love them. I've discovered tons of new, healthier ways to fix chocolate into my diet ^_^ which is very important. Just today I made myself a rhubarb crumble with low sugar oatmeal and honey. It's so good, a nice treat, and pretty good for me too.

Finally, I had support. My mom was/is a Weight Watcher so she knows all the rules I play by now (making dinner at her's really easy for me) and my husband is the most positive and support person I'll ever know. They, along with all the lovely women at my weekly meeting, helped me stay in the game, helped me lose weight and gain confidence.

Now that I've reached a stage where I hope to stay for as long as possible (for ever?), I thought it'd be a good time to let everyone know, and to encourage anyone who feels at odds with their image to do something about it. Weight Watchers is one option (a great one as far as I'm concerned), but that's not all there is. Just... go do something for yourself. It's worth it. You're worth it.

in the belly of the wait

want wallow in the punch to time
track yellowed by name brand badges
all alerted to terror in swooning
attractive belly of an ugly beast
on the breast of sun lighting force
against optics to time and prow

uncool: definition

driving around in a white minivan with a fishing poll rack, smoking a cigarette, playing your emineme synth remix so loud it makes my car rattle.

the baker's confession

mediocre self indulgent baker
wants to make a cake for herself
and write sweet nothings on top
in sparkling green frosting
to celebrate her boredom.

hands (a drabble)

her eyelids were heavy.

she worked to open them as her mind raced. she would have panicked, but she was sedated. she could feel the cool drugs swimming through her veins. the dizziness gave her the sensation of floating. 

at first, all she could see was her eyelashes, back-lit by the dull, round light above her.

little by little the room came to focus. the man by her side, with her hand in his. he looked tired, desperate. his hair was messy and long. 

the feeling in her hands was dull, but she focused on feeling. she wanted to feel.

the anatomy of distress (a drabble)

halona felt her blood scream. her heart pumped so hard, the sound echoed in her chest. thump. thuMP. thUMP. THUMP. quickening. increasing. the volume so overwhelming. 

her eyes began to water involuntarily. she tried to speak, but the hole in her throat grew smaller with each breath until she couldn't breathe at all. she felt hot. her muscles turn to stone around hollow, rattling bones. she became heavy and numb and feel to her knees. 

anxious. scared. she realized every detail. the gun, the man behind her. his arm under her. the doctor. the needle. the flash of light. 

darkness.

richard herring's blog is ace

richard herring's blog - warming up

jack is a goof

ryan was holding jack like a baby for a little while, then put him down in a pile of pillows. jack just stayed there, purring.

say hello to Neil

neil is the name of my new zune. 

a few months ago dave (my beloved 80GB) had an accident. i'd been leaving him in my coat pocket for maximum easy access. we're best friends. we drive to school together, go on walks through the woods, dance around the kitchen and do the dishes, etc. so one night dave had been in my coat and we had friends over as we often do and something happened. my coat got moved. for all i know, i moved it. i don't remember. i wasn't thinking about it. 

the next morning, a saturday, i woke up, found my coat, and it wasn't until i took dave out of my pocket while in the car that i saw it... the crack that goes from the top left corner of his screen down to the bottom right side. the crack that broke a third of his pixels. the crack that gave birth to the nasty leech that sleeps in his screen so that i can't see what i'm playing. i can't watch movies or tv shows.

this happened just before we went to japan... a 14 hour flight. of course i was upset. in fact, i barely held it together. on top of dave's accident, i've been very stressed. 

i've been a mess, basically.

turns out not only did dave suffer cosmetic damages, his battery got a good whack too. what used to play music for up to 6 hours, now only held a charge for about 20 minutes. i put a formal request to ryan to get a new zune for my birthday (which is in november, mind). i knew by then that this new zune would be named neil.

dave after david bowie. neil after neil hannon.

one night not too long ago, i had a dream that dave was all better. we were singing and dancing and he was healthy again (am i personifying him too much?). when i woke up, i was sad to remember the true nature of dave's state. i told ryan about it, along with a list of other things that'd been upsetting me recently. ryan called me and told me he'd ordered me a new zune, that he'd be here in a few weeks.

i cried. beth can attest to that.  i cried because i was happy, and thankful.  ryan is so amazing and sweet and... 

i cried a little bit too because i didn't feel like i deserved such a prize. not after being a huge grump and not having finished my school work (my thesis work). but ryan insisted i did, and that i do. in fact he's had neil inscribed to say you deserve more than anyone can give - ryan. i don't know if i believe him, but it's the perfect message for me right now. right now i don't feel like i deserve all i have. it's good to think ryan feels i do though ^_^ that makes me feel better.

haha, actually, i cried again when i saw neil this afternoon. tears of happiness are awesome. 

neil is blue. he's an originals with a TADO scene etched on below the enscription by ryan and he's got 120GB of space! 

i'm not sure what i'm going to fill all that space with, seeing as how we've sort of lost all our vids on account of the external hard drive over heating :/ 

p.s. whoever designed the Zune software gets an A+ for making it Katy-Friendly. two zunes, one owner, no problem.

super drabble definition

drabble: a piece of prose fiction consisting of exactly 100 words

super drabble: 10 drabbles that form one continuous plot thread (created by Nicole McLernon)

epic drabble: 100 drabbles that form on colossal continuous plot thread (just created by me, never, to my knowledge, done before)

origins (a drabble)

the big plague killed billions of settlers at the center of the galaxy. so closely gathered, the big plague leaped from planet to planet within a matter of years.

her station created it. the by-product of a simple test, done over and over and over until the results were indisputable, and the devastation was unstoppable.

in a scrabble, survivors created an anti-virus from the strains of previous testing’s and set up 6 pods--one in each direction--with 6 carriers.

but without proper care, the research station was unsustainable. the explosion was devastating, and only one pod escaped the blast.

the capture (a drabble)

(drabble: a piece of prose fiction consisting of exactly 100 words)

he opened the landing bay and backed the boat around the whizzing pod, catching it in a heavy blaze of noise, smoke and fire.

out of the chaos a young woman rolled, full militant garbs, and pointed her shooter at him. his heart raced for the fear of the gun at his face, but pulsed quicker still for the beauty of this woman. tears in her eyes and lost words on her lips.

she turned to a noise. she gave toby her back. with an outstretched arm he caught her as she collapsed, crying the song of a lost war.

punctured (a drabble)

(drabble: a piece of prose fiction consisting of exactly 100 words)

toby heard the distress signal over the coms, disguised by the whizzing and twirling of the antiquated escape pod as it pummeled towards the boat. for all he knew, his chair fell to the floor behind him, but he didn't have time to check. the pod was going to crash through the engine of the ship.

the helm was manned by two young officers. toby brushed them aside, took the boat off auto, and announced over the speakers "hold on!" as the ship lurched under the pressure of the swift change in direction.

the pod passed. toby decided to follow.

33 years (a drabble)

(drabble: a piece of prose fiction consisting of exactly 100 words)

she slept like an angel in the preservation unit. like a crisp slice of bell pepper, protected from the elements. the white light illuminating her gave out before the end of the first decade, but the taps and pipes and vents and wires all stayed opened and connected and pumping.

the exterior shown in light of moons she passed. moons she never saw, would never see, in all of her wanderings through space. the escape pod twirled and gained velocity with every passing solar system. for 33 years she faded from the memory of her people. a martyr in silence.