Wednesday, January 25, 2006

For some reason, I felt like I was being ditched. If that was the case, why could it not be such a big deal; could I not just roll off the cart like a dried out, imbalanced turd, from the yank of the already-full wheelbarrow? I wouldn't be missed.

It was then that I realised I truly did care, even if I never knew quite how to emulate "care", nor had I even believed it, myself. It was true, anyway.

Perhaps I'm a stickier turd than I'd figured.

Tuesday, November 22, 2005


Because I promised, here it is. The Dr. Who scarf. Watch out, it has special powers.

Friday, November 18, 2005

No, I don't let go of anything. I take it all right along with me, all spiraled up inside the shell house on my back. This way, I can crawl back up in there any time I choose and try on the old days and see how they fit. Today I puttered around and found the squeak of my next door neighbor's swing, the cricket chirps from summer camp, the night sprinklers on my college campus, the chime of my dad's grandfather clock, and thrush's mournful song, all scattered beneath the clutter and dust.

The fit was bittersweet.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Well, guess what. I was approached by the associate producer of TLC's "Ultimate Blunders" today (via email). She thought I had so many ha-ha-silly-me moments in my blog at violinist.com that they want to interview me for their show.

No, I'm not kidding.

I knew I would be famous some day.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

How much is your blog worth? Mine's worth maybe the two cents I put into it. Maybe.

Saturday, October 29, 2005

We left the safety of the building to walk through the woods. I don't remember exactly what our destination was, but the trees were lovely. Nevertheless, I felt an extra element of fear in the journey.

The little girl sensed it first. She became frightened and began pointing as we crossed over a small wooden bridge at a low point in the forest. Imminent danger. What was it?

At last, I spied it: a large grizzly bear. Could I disappear before it noticed me? I tried quickly to become as small as possible while moving from the woods toward an open road. George was there too, only he didn't see it approaching. I shouted for him to turn. Get your gun out, George, there's a bear! He didn't see it. I pointed. He turned and looked in the direction of the approaching bear, which was on its hind legs now, practically on top of him. He didn't see it. Why couldn't he see it?

It's a ghost bear. This type of grizzly only exists in my realm, not George's. He is only real to me, and perhaps also to small girls who are sensitive to such threatening antagonists. This is the first dream in which I have made the observation that not everyone can even see the bears. Great, I've always wanted my own personal grizzly.

Monday, October 24, 2005

I have to confess, I burned my bagel twice today. In a row. The first time was typical and excusable: I'd occupied myself typing happily here at my computer until the charred victim's screams finally reached my nostrils. With a semi-frantic dash to the toaster oven, I assessed the incinerated carcass and emptied the toaster oven contents into trash can, swiftly, in order to avoid burnt fingers and cover up the crime.

Guiltily, I popped in a second bagel, aware of the fact that George would notice two were now missing from the bag, and I would have to admit that I burned one. He had warned me earlier--on four separate occasions, mind you--that this new oven toasted things really fast, to which I scoffed, "Oh yeah, like that's the most incredible oven I've ever seen. And you've said that four times already, gosh!" Continuing, I teased him for showing signs of premature senility.

I'm not sure exactly how much time elapsed during the second offense; I forget. I returned to my seat at the computer, glanced over my shoulder at the glowing window, and saw once again a black object where a golden brown one should be. The repetitive nature of my folly is embarrassing; the demise of Bagel Number Two was identically dismal.

Should I try again? I'm a violinist; I inserted Bagel Number Three. This time, I watched. You know what they say about a watched pot never boiling, right? Have you taken the time out of your schedule to focus on a bagel long enough to watch it toast? Normally, I would call this an arduous task, but not today. It wasn't like watching leaves change color. It wasn't like watching stubble grow on a chin, or even like watching a sunset. No, it unfolded more like a time lapse in a science film. In about fifteen seconds, the edges started to tan. Two more, and the middle began to brown. In a total of only twenty seconds, the bagel had achieved deep sienna. I've never seen anything like it.

Three bagels later, I guess George was right after all. At least it didn't take four times to figure it out.