they say it's MY birthday!

Today, on my birthday, I've decided to impart some wisdom upon all of you. Here are the things I have learned after 26 years of doing the livin' thang:
1. paying the bills, and doing it well, is not worth your sanity/happiness.
2. cats don't like to be spooned (i need a dog).
3. given the right opportunity, even the kitty who loves you most will claw your face off.
4. orange hair suits my fancy.
5. i have learned to embrace my neurosis. facing my fears just makes them worse.
6. i guess boys can be ok. you just need to find the genuine ones.
7. you don't actually have to tear the hole out of those paper toilet seat protectors!!
(yes, i just admitting to sitting my butt on the seat.)
8. i'm a very industrious student.
9. i love my yarn store job and my yarn store boss lady (even when i am not particularly fond of either). HILLTOP YARN ROCKS!!!
10. i love my friends and i love my life (even when i am not particularly fond of either). MORRISSEY ROCKS!!!
hope you all have a great day in my honour!!

spring fever believer

It's spring break.
my dad and my brother are visiting from the dirt pit.
i am beginning the packing process.
i am menstruating (and grumpy, but that goes without saying).
i can't say that i am much in the mood to be entertaining.
i thought it important to note that i began tracking my blog hits in february of this year.
i've been surprised to see the international turn out for my half-witted rants.
countries such as: mexico, spain, vietnem, united arab emirates, etc. ...
that seems pretty awesome to me and has given me perspective on how all-encompassing the internet is.
anyway, i'm approaching hit #1000.
you should look to see what number you are and if you're #1000 say something clever.
you might just get a surprise.

I've Got to Move, Wa-Oh-Oh

Usually this statement refers to me and the dance floor. This time it refers to me and my apartment.



I have been living in the basement of a house for nearly 1 year. My apartment is quite nice and I do love it. However, it has no bath tub. So, for an entire year I have been unable to have Calgone take me away. It's really been rough. Also, my landlord lives directly above me (with her husband). They are old. Not to be an ageist, but everything in their living space is soooo loud! I can hear their answering machine every time it goes off (not to mention I hear the phone ringing). and it's not like I hear a faint ringing and then the hint of answering machine. No, I hear it like I am sitting right next to it. They also listen to the television full tilt. When they watch TV, I have to turn mine up, so I can hear it over theirs. I always hear them moving about and they are up so late. They have no respect for my privacy. I feel like they are about to barge into my apartment or knock on my window at any minute. It really is quite nerve racking. As well, part of my rent is to do yard work every month. This becomes quite taxing when I have school assignments AND blogging to do. I mean my gawd!
All this has led me to find a roommate and get the hell out of dodge. Because I really can't take it anymore.
What this leads me to is that I am in serious need of boxes. If you have and and/or free time, send it over my way. please.
also, after I move, come see my new home and my new apt.
yay. kiss kiss and all that jazz
adios

lurkers come out! i need everyone's help

So, I have 1 final research paper due for the quarter. It is for my Reading Native Women's Lives class. The paper is on Native identity and misappropriations of cultural imagery. In doing so, I Googled some terms to see what images came up. If you wouldn't mind jotting down some brief comments, I would be much obliged. (keep in mind not all images are negative)

image 1:

image 2:

image 3:

image 4:

image 5:

image 6:

image 7:


Thanks a lot! I really appreciate. This will help me attain the 4.0 in this class that I think I deserve. (not that I am entitled as a colonial force in a Indigenous Studies class. Just because I've worked so hard to conquer the material. My conquistador ancestors would be pleased.)

LIKE TOTALLY PISSED (on)

So, some of you may know my little baby heads: Julia (AKA Bad Joo Joos) and Fernando (AKA FerNannyNanny, FerNambiePampie, and JeebusFernandoYouHaveADingleBerry).
These two:

The other day I was loving on my bebs and realized that they totally smelled like cats and that derned Julia has Wolverine claws!
I decided to take matters in my own hands today. I trimmed both cat's claws and bathed the little buggers. Look at how cute they are when they are all wet and shivery!

Here's Joo Joos
She looks angry, doesn't she?

and Fernanny
isn't he cute when he's all small?

Sometime after their bathing encounter, they were still pretty wet and pretty shivery. I started brushing Fernanny. It actually seemed to help him dry a bit and stop shaking. After realizing this success, I decided to do the same for my Joo Joo Snuggle Monkey. So, I had her on my lap and was brushing her. It seemed to be helping her look a little less wet. However, there was something different this time. She felt really wet on her underside...and warm? Oh dear gawd, she's peeing on me!!!
I pushed her off my now saturated leg and she b-lined it to the litter shack.
I tore my pants off in a flash. (listen up fellas. apparently this is the sure fire way to get my pants off.)
I have been traumatized. Up until this point, I have prided myself on never having been peed on. I can't even imagine what parents feel like. I only know if it's anything like this experience, I could never do it!
yucky yuck. now I must go do laundry--they were my favorite pants!! Now they will forever live on as my piss pants and Julia as my piss bag.
Thank you and goodnight.

phobiatic problematic

Composer, Allen Shaw, was interviewd this morning on NPR's Morning Edition. He was there talking about his new book: "Wish I Could be There: Notes From a Phobic Life." Composer Allen Shawn lives a phobic life. He doesn't like heights, bridges, tunnels, subways, elevators, open spaces or closed spaces. Hence the title of his book. It begins with how his fears make a short drive through the woods a daunting journey.
Listening to him made me link my phobias and experiences with his. Granted, I don't think mine are as extreme as his, but they are similar. What I find daunting, is that they seem to get worse over time. So, maybe when I am his age, my fear will become dibilitating. This freaks me the "f" out. I am constatnly trying to "face my fears." However, each face off finds my fears the undefeated winner. I don't need someone to hold my hand on planes, but I do have to monitor my breathing while in the air. I either breathe too fast or not at all. I get dizzy when high up, I have crippling performance anxiety. The only thing I've overcome is my shyness. It was stifling as a child. If I didn't know you, I would not get out from underneath my mom's skirt.

Shaw states in the book: "The degree of my self-preoccupation is appalling."

"Fear makes you focus very, very vigilantly on something," he says. Just as someone who has a gun pointed at him focuses solely on that gun and how to avoid getting shot, Shawn says, a person who's afraid of sitting in the middle of a theater will think of nothing else but: "How can I get out of here? Why is that person next to me so big? Where was that exit?"

"That kind of self-preoccupation is really silly, but it's what happens to the phobic," he says.

During the course of the Shaw interview, Renee Montagne asked if writing about his fears made them any less intense. He said analyzing the things that make him cease to tick, leads him to think of them as personality quirks. However, this does not serve to make them any less severe in their affects. What makes him feel ok is thinking of the great geniouses that could not live outside of their constructed worlds--Emily Dickinson and others.
This makes me think the one day, I too can be ok with my phobias. Or at least come to terms with the fact that I may never change them.