junket terrace

I haven't been spending much time on the computer.  

I really haven't felt like it, been sick, reading, playing video games, etc.

I'm kind of in a strange place.

like a train station.  I have my transfer in my hand but I'm just not sure where my connecting trip picks up at.  does that make sense?

every few years or so something(s) happen(s) that change the course of your life completely.  a lot of people miss these moments, not fully appreciating them for what they are until they look back years later.

not me.  I am completely aware when I step up to the forks.  

I take a deep breath and hope I've gone the right direction.  it's always a gamble, you never really know how it's going to work out.

situations doomed to awesome or terrible with no shades of mediocrity.

so it's that time for me again.  re-evaluate, turn over leaves, put back in the oven, touch up the paint.

so... I'll see you when I get back

Wii love it

yup.

we got a wii.  I've been wanting one for awhile now, mostly for the wii fit.

I love nintendo.  they have been the leaders in innovation, handhelds and kickass classics for a long time now.  I've been to cube clubs to play unreleased games on high def t.v's with dj's spinning and fun merch there for the taking.

I'm completely loyal, regardless of what they may say about this console being "for kids".  

honestly, these people can punch themselves in the face.  animal crossing may look like it's for 5 year olds but ya'll betta belee, it's fun.

I had the original nintendo.  mike tyson's punch out.  zelda.  mario bros.  metroid.  etc.  

I had the super nes.  again, all the classics.

I waited up all night when the gamecube came out, outside in the cold, in the middle of winter to be one of the first to own this magnificent entertainer, and to escape the inevitable absence of said gaming stations for months on end.

so after a seriously lengthy wait, I have finally procured the wii along with fit.

Now, I remember watching a short video literally years before it's debut, showcasing the possible new idea for a console.  I thought it was brilliant, a totally new and ingenious way to play, one that didn't involve getting extra fat.  

I had chalked it up to an abandoned project and had forgotten all about it when it was finally released.

so, to continue, I made shawn pick it up while I was at work so that I could immerse myself in this glory upon abode arrival.  my sister, not much of a gamer, sent me a text message while I was working that read, "this wii fit is awesome!"

I couldn't wait to get home, and disappointment didn't greet me at the door.  

my sister excitedly babbled about the mini games they had played.

shawn had moved the couch to the far end of the living room in a campaign to create "more room for activities".

This thing is, well, awesome.  It's fun.  It's good for you.  It's ridiculously unrealistic about your BMI in a very flattering way.

wii sports is also extra fun, bowling, tennis, softball.  I can completely see myself drunk as fuck and babbling with house guests while I lose ten frames.  I haven't even played all of these games.  we haven't even downloaded the classics yet.

the best part?  it's in the living room instead of in our bedroom like the xbox is.  I no longer have to vie with shawn for quality time with the virtual babysitter.

hurray for technology.

3 cheers for fun.

hip hip for fitness.

ya-fucking-hoo for me.

yay!

addled eyes

okay so I haven't been online hardly at all over the last few days.  in fact, it took me literally hours to go through all my messages, so I should definitely remember that the next time I go slacking off.

shawn has had a few days off, which has definitely contributed to my truancy, but he's not entirely at fault.  compiled below is a list of scapegoats (though not in order of culpability).

a) shawn

b) my job (it gets in the way of so much)

c) books that have my attention

d) adventuring

and finally,

e) my new pills are making me extra sleepy

so let's see what's new, shall we?

I had a pretty bizarre dream last night that was rapidly fading so I scribbled it down into my dream journal before it was gone completely.  

christine left for seattle on thursday, which meant that we had the house to ourselves for the weekend.  this was particularly nice because we don't get a lot of time together completely alone together.

the following morning I awoke with an urge to visit the mystery spot in santa cruz.  I'd never been, had always wanted to go, and was in need of a wacky adventure.  

shawn is ever willing so off we went.

it was a long drive but the ride was spent in good conversation and I hardly noticed the time it took to get there.

after purchasing our tickets from a thoroughly bizarre old man at the ticket booth we perused the tacky gift shop.  I bought a book called, "weird california", full of curious locales to visit.  I have already decided on my next traipse, the wave organ in san francisco.  I have never heard of this and I plan to visit the cliff house sutro bath ruins while I'm there.  I've been before but shawn hasn't and I'd like him to see it.

to forge ahead on the mystery spot topic...

you have to actually have a tour guide and can't wander around on your own but as it turns out, you almost need one, and it's certainly better to have someone with you that (sort of) knows what the fuck is going on.  our tour guide was weird, looked like a leprechaun and was a little creepy but informative.

they're not entirely sure what's causing the disturbance in this particular neck of the woods but there are a few theories.  the most plausible is that there is a large magnetic rock bed underneath this particular stretch that causes a shift in gravity.

other theories include...

a spaceship buried underground

optical illusions caused by the tilt of the house itself 

a vortex somehow connected to the bermuda triangle (wtf?)

paranormal activity

and

high velocity soft electrons or carbon dioxide exiting the earth, among others.

none of these theories explains the depth perception disturbance in outdoor areas where a horizon line is present, the fact that brooms stand on end, severe disorientation and motion sickness even though you're not moving, absolutely no birds or animals of any kind can be heard or will nest in this area, compasses do not work, trees grow in spirals, the coriolis effect is backwards and the inconsistency of the phenomenon itself.  sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.

regardless of the cause, there is certainly an effect.  it was interesting to say the least, but it was disorienting and I felt something strong and pulling at my center.  it was worse in some places over others, which also doesn't fit into the whole "tilted house theory".

whatever the case may be...

you should check it out, it's one of those nerdy, fun-for-the-whole-family dealy-o's.

invasion of the kitty snatchers

while perusing some of my favorite blogs this morning, I stumbled upon this.

seriously???

is this real?

is there any way in hell that it could be?

I am at a complete loss for words, but you know I'm gonna try anyway.

If the text is too small for you read, let me assure you that an article like this defies the laws of nature, unless you happen to roughly be of the same stature as grape ape or the jolly green giant.

it essentially says that a fireman "accidentally" inhaled a kitten while trying to give it CPR.

what the FUCK.

now, this kitten is 6 oz.  

6 ounces!  

we have 3oz. lamb chops at the zu and I'm pretty sure you couldn't inhale one if you tried very very hard and wished with all your might. so, based on that information it's pretty safe to assume that the inhalation wasn't a draw in at all so much as a terribly gruesome carnivorous act.

this fireman is obviously a sick individual with a taste for raw (albeit slightly charred) flesh!

he saw his moment and he took it.

even more unbelievable?

animal rights activists plan to honor him.

no way!

peta would have your ass in a sling for calling a donkey an asshole, let alone swallowing a live kitten whole.

this is a lie.  an errant fraud,  much like bonsai kittens.

pied-à-terre

writing publicly is usually a bad idea when one has been partaking of the ol' drinky poo.

the lamenting usually discloses much more than the writer ever intended, and is sure to be the cause of more than one embarrassing moment on the event.

thank god for the delete option, because once you've re-read the entry in a sober state, you're sure to find that you are a complete idiot while intoxicated, and so fervently attempt to stop anyone from noticing this.

I personally could give a fuck less right now.

while I'm not a complete mess, nor even drunk per se, I am definitely impaired.  usually common sense would dictate that I should forgo the following ingression, but again, I don't particularly care much.

what I'd really like to talk about is this house I've been obsessing over.

those of you that have talked with me recently have probably heard speak of this, and are also probably likely as not tired of hearing about it.  If this is the case, please feel free to stop reading... 

now.

It has a ridiculous charm that I cannot evade.  I'm drawn to it in the way that a fat fuck might be drawn to a doughnut.  I cannot stop thinking about it until I have it or it becomes unavailable.

All night long at work, which was quite busy for me, I couldn't stop daydreaming about it, and would tell anyone who would listen about its wily allure.

the bizarre bit is that I haven't even seen the inside.  sure there are pictures, but nothing can substitute the tour.

it's quirky, there's no denying that, and while it seems to superficially match my particular personality, that's not the only reason why I want it so badly.

It's not in a good neighborhood.  not terrible, but not good.  It's on the corner of a main, busy street.  the kitchen, while always such an important feature to me is not as I would prefer it to be, and yet I am willing to ignore all of these flaws and move right in immediately.

It strikes me that this is a dangerous preoccupation.  a trap as it were.

I imagine demon-like creatures eating my soul like psychic vampires, never sated.  I envision naughty malevolent beings that like to throw my belongings across the room.  evil bastards that will never let me sleep or have peace.  a preconceived sanctuary that will prove to be a most frightening place.

still, I feel that I absolutely must have it.

I am attempting to make arrangements to see the property in question.  shawn, as always, is constantly accommodating and repeats for the millionth time over the course of our relationship that I may do as I please.

it's a good thing because I would do it anyway.

I desperately need to enter this space, and I'm not entirely sure why.  I may find after entering that the energy and layout inside is intolerable, but still, I sally forth.

by the by... this particular property has been sold and sold and sold again quite frequently over the last few years.  this strikes me as unusual and may be the source of my anxiety.

anxiety or not though... 

I am intrigued, engrossed, suspicious, absorbed, and in pursuit of chancy grounds.

and I remain hopeful, hopeful, hopeful

traits and observations

the intercom from the school across the street is loud enough for me to hear it, but not coherently.

my palms are sweaty.  I'm hot and cold together at once.

my house is quiet but for the percolating gurgle of the fish tank.  the fish are so fat they can't swim straight and I always wonder how they continue to live, but they do.

my coffee tastes burnt but I'm drinking it anyway.

I want to go to the ruins on soda canyon road but don't know how to get there.  I've tried to find them twice now.  luck is not a lady.

there's nothing good on t.v.  I recorded a program on pompeii but when I tried to watch it the entire show was in spanish and I could only understand half of it.  they said it was narrated by leonard nemoy but they lied.  leonard nemoy doesn't speak spanish.

I feel slightly nauseated and then fine in intervals.  it strikes me that this is probably what's implied by the phrase, "waves of nausea".

the bamboo plant on the speaker has had one burnt leaf on it for years now.  I put a candle too close to it once.  

my sister bought a new puzzle.  it's mine now.

dozens of birds were ceaselessly screaming and congregating in the old tree behind my house. upon investigating, I found a large raccoon winding through the branches, alone, in the middle of a sunny day.

I want an adventure.  I will have one soon.

my pictures of tikal are impatiently waiting for me to pay attention to them.

I want to buy a new house.  not in this town. 

I hate it when people repeat themselves.  it's annoying.  when people make me repeat myself I want to flay them and hang their bodies from the rafters.  this reaction looks like a red thought.

I'm extraordinarily insecure and cover it up with a feigned air of indifference.

my favorite socks have a hole in the heel.  I knew I wouldn't have them forever but I'm not ready to say goodbye.

I complain that I "have to do everything" but won't allow others to do anything because I feel like they'll fuck it up.

I'm obsessed with stories of the dead.  ghosts.  murders.  mysteries.  deserted towns that echo. I'm frightened and hopeful that the feeling of being watched is not imagined.

I want to be alone most of the time.  I am as often as possible.

sometimes I say "die" instead of "bye" to customers when they leave the restaurant.  If they're mean I give them regular when they ask for decaf.

I make myself laugh and like it when I make you laugh too.

now.  please.  add yours to my list.

around the bend

I had an appointment with my shrink today.  I think most of you know by now that I'm certifiably crazy, and those of you that don't could've probably guessed it.

anyway, while he was making notes in my little folder that is reserved for writing down observations about my mental state, I peeked at his handwriting.

an indecipherable scrawl, he is a doctor after all.  

this indicates that he is secretive, closed-up and likes to keep his thoughts to himself and this is precisely how I perceive him to be.

aside from this, why can no doctor on the face of the planet write legibly?!  additionally they all seem to write identically, like old people.  I feel that in the case of geriatrics it is more a product of their education during a specific era, and less about being a complete jerk on purpose.  

It is possibly the most annoying thing about these bones and it makes me wonder if they practice the doctor chirography while in med school, like professional athletes fashion their autographs before going pro.  do they do this to hide their real notes from us in the event that we get our hands on these precious documents?  in all actuality do they say things like "this guy is a drug seeker" or "hypochondriac".  or worse, like "this lady is a complete cunt, give her whatever she wants and get her out quick!"  

The second quality I noticed was that his cuneiform slanted to the right.  allegedly this announces that he is outgoing, friendly, impulsive and emotionally open.  

My doc doesn't strike me as the enthusiastic party guy that this interpretation implies, but who knows what he does in his free time.
maybe he's a swinger.  maybe he goes to nightclubs and brings lesbians home to his wife so they can participate in bizarro sex rituals somehow involving safety words like "banana".

who knows... 

honestly I couldn't care less whether or not he is a sexual deviant.  I find him interesting, and somewhat unusual. 

I actually didn't like him at all when I first started seeing him.  he bugged me out and gave me the heebies.  his office is too bright and stark and there is an audible hum of light fixtures.  the ambiance messes with my eyes, giving me a mild case of tunnel vision and serious anxiety.

I squirm uncomfortably in the too-big armchair, avoiding eye contact, fidgeting and picking at my nails.

I hated my visits, but one day that changed.

I told him something or other, I don't remember what, and he simply replied that, "life can be perverse".

this struck me as one of the most brilliant things I've ever heard.  the morbid girl in me adhered to this statement with utter delight, and just like that, I found that I was beginning to like him on some strange level and could now tell him things that he would understand in a way that no one else could.  

I know this is his job, but I was impressed.