cygnoir.net

So today I read about 300 pages in “Twilight”, washed the bathroom floor, scrubbed the toilet and sink and part of the shower, did the dishes, organized presents, edited some poetry, and wrote two holiday cards. That’s all: two cards. I have no idea how I am going to get these out before New Year’s.

Saturdays make me a little wiggidy, to be honest. I usually feel guilty for having the day off because FunkyPlaid doesn’t. Today he and just one other employee ran the whole store, open to close. After FunkyPlaid got home, he collapsed on the bed and didn’t even stay awake for the scotch I poured him. Torgi jumped up, curled up, and that was that.

I believe that is about to be that for me, too.

I am barely coherent at this point, but sure, I will throw some words together and at you while I sip my cookie tea. You heard me: cookie tea! And no actual cookies were harmed in the making of this tea, so it is gluten-free! Ah, tea-chnology.

Various events over the past few days have turned parts of my life into a wobbly shopping-cart — you know the kind, one wonky wheel requiring an extra-tight grip to keep the whole thing moving forward. As a result, my knuckles are white but I am also chuckling vaguely to myself in the quieter moments, from a curious “huh, this is what my life is now” type of observation mode.

I would be more specific, but I refuse to break my streak of obtusely referring to Major Life Drama from the pedestal (lighthouse? watchtower? creaky treehouse?) of metaphor.

The HWF (Holiday Work Function) earlier this evening was bizarre — no dinner, just appetizers, and mostly inedible ones at that — and one drink ticket that I failed to use. The music was cranked too loud for me to hear most of the conversations around me, but I did chat with some colleagues and meet some nice new folks. I left after about an hour, caught a train, and read the first 50 pages of “Twilight” by the time I got home. The writing, while not fantastic, is enthralling, and I will probably end up reading the rest of the series. I would say something cranky about the fuss over these books, but I cannot muster up the faux-disdain.

What I will comment on crankily is my inability to read one book at a time. I used to be so good at that! Now I have at least 3, usually 5, going on at once, always a range of fiction and nonfiction, funny and not, so that no matter which mood I am in, there is always something to read.

… which might explain why I find myself employed in a building that houses hundreds of thousands of books. Huh.

Miles is creepy. I hope we learn more about him in Season 5.

View the rest of the cast photos from Season 5 of “Lost”.

To be honest, I don’t want to write much of anything right now. My evening became a comedy of errors as soon as I left work and attempted to get home on Muni.  After an hour’s wait and only two overfilled trains, I took an inbound to Embarcadero so I could try there. I hopped onto a train that called itself an “N-Judah ‘B’” which I had never seen before, but it had N-Judah in the name, so I took a gamble. As soon as it pulled out of the station, it changed to an S shuttle. So I got off at the next stop and waited another 20 minutes for an actual N-Judah. It was just as packed as the two earlier trains, but I shoved myself on. Then I proceeded to have a coughing fit right before my stop. The people around me must have thought my head was going to pop off.  I covered my face with my hands and my scarf and hoped for the best.

At least I picked up some gluten-free groceries at Andronico’s, and ran into friends while doing so.  That was a nice, unexpected surprise.  I now have gluten-free bagels to try, among other treats! 

Now FunkyPlaid is brewing some herbal tea with honey for my throat, and I will play the weird and wonderful Majesty of Colors game with Zen curled up next to me until I fall asleep.

Today I received a compliment of such magnitude that I can barely internalize it, hours later.  It caused me to think deeply about self-worth, and how we decide whether or not we “deserve” compliments.

I put that in quotes because I wonder if it is relevant what we decide about someone else’s opinion.  A genuine compliment is paid regardless of the agreement of the recipient.

For much of my life, I have struggled with the concept of what I deserve versus what I receive.  With few exceptions, I have been what some have called blessed with good fortune, and that, coupled with a strong Roman Catholic upbringing, comes no small amount of concern that I have not earned it.

Yet we earn compliments without having to agree with them. It would be cleaner if we agreed, of course; it is rude to respond to a compliment with a negative statement, not to mention pointless (unless one is angling for the follow-up reaffirmation). Does the compliment, like the insult, say more about the giver than the recipient?

This short film called “Validation” made me smile, laugh, and cry.  Plus it stars TJ Thyne, who plays Hodgins on “Bones”! Thanks, Chief Happiness Officer!

(No longer able to be embedded. Grr! Watch it here.)

This piece on the Los Angeles Public Library called “Safe Haven” could have just as easily been done about the San Francisco Public Library. It’s worth a look. (via librarian.net)