danger hat

Migration

2010-07-27T07:23:00.000-07:00

This blog is mostly from the time before, and the time before that. The new and now is over at www.thelouredux.com

Would you look at that...

2010-03-14T14:34:00.000-07:00

We're in St. Louis again. Or kind of. We are actually planted in the West County suburbs for the time being, which is the locale of my pubescence so it makes me tense and angsty in a different way than I am angsty normally. So much of loving St. Louis came from moving away from the burbs and getting to the meat of the city in its central corridor. Not that I can't get there, it's just that it's a hike and I've become used to five minute drives vs. 20 minute or more drives. No one in LA will pity me, I don't even pity myself, it is just taking some brain adjusting.
Otherwise... We're back! Which is cool as heck. Heck is very cool. Hell not so much. I don't know what I am talking about. I feel obliged to blog because it has been a big deal, but really I'd rather just shove some provel in my face, drown it with a Vess, and finish up with some Ted Drewes. Yes the move back has thus far been mostly about eating my way through the city's treasured food staples. All of which are culinary/nutritional nightmares==but taste oh so good to the native tongue.
The end.

Oh blog, it's not you.

2009-12-25T04:40:00.000-08:00

I am just profoundly boring.

So let's recap the year a bit shall we?

We're still in Columbus, despite a spring push on my part to get back to the Gateway. At this point, it seems we will be here eternally. Which wouldn't be terrible--Columbus has some true awesomeness. It is hard to start to let the ol' roots grow when it feels like removal is still eminent.

Played a lot of derby. This is the first time in my life that I feel I can walk away from it. I don't know what has changed exactly, but I think it might actually lead to a healthier relationship with the pastime should I opt to continue. And I probably will.
Oh and hopefully in 2010 there will be a derby comic anthology with a lil story by yours truly. Keep your eyes peeled. I have seen the final result and it is fairly terrific. The artist who drew it has a uniquely classic style that makes my featherweight tale something a little pithier. I have small faith in the comic book industry's ability to put anything out in a timely fashion, so it may be 2011. Or never. But let's be optimistic, it is Christmas after all.

I started baking. For money, instead of a bigger butt. It is by far the hardest job I have ever had. Of course, in some ways that makes it the easiest because I am not bored out of my ever loving mind. It has, as mentioned, ripped my skin to shreds. (For instance recently one of the oven racks got stuck midbake and I reached deep into the bowels to retrieve my pans. I have three horizontal lines from the rack above it. I am a fool in a very small space with a very hot thing.) I come home and usually pass out or should pass out, made a zombie by the nonstop action of a long shift I go through a range of emotions throughout the day: it is very satisfying to bake a near perfect batch of bread, and crushing when a missed timer means a batch of cookies gets extra crispy, It's an odd sort of perfectionism, and my days are a balance of trying to make things tasty and beautiful but also do so at a pace that doesn't lead to a 12 hour day. I get to experience triumph and failure over a little (okay scads of) butter and flour. All inall I like it, even though I am still only mediocre at it. It is not a career for life--my body is already telling me it is too old to keep it up--but I am glad I have taken the opportunity to do it.

I had half of my wisdom teeth out in September. And ow. And the crazy. I ended up with a sweet case of dry socket, probably owed to some deliciously violent vomiting from the anesthesia and the painkillers. Also being, as I was told, too old for the procedure (I should be in the grave by 29 maybe,or at least put in a home) I tried to drop the vicodin early in the process because it made me seriously stupid and crazy and ill. However, owwwwww.

Those are the highlights--I am sure there was more. Mostly I ate a lot of food. Watched much television. Read less books than I should have. Wrote even fewer sentences. Doodled a bit. And, sure, angsted more than someone in their late 20s has a right to.

Perhaps I will be less boring in 2010. But, Blog, don't go holding your breath.

Try a little... bargain meat

2009-11-30T09:40:00.000-08:00

Dear Kroger,

Thank you so much. I was recently in one of your stores (the vast one, next to the city). I was there to pick up a few sundry items on my day off. We ran out of soda--and you know how I have been a fiend for carbonation lately. I was leaning over some confusing Manager Special beef platter when ne of your stock boys said hi to me; I wasn't sure if it was a customer service, "Hi" or a let's chat about your Return of the Jedi purse. "Hey there," so I decided against the tray in order to ensure a return to invisibility. Having worked in customer service, I know it is encouraged that clerks and stockers and the like to check in on customers. Make patter. While I am talented as the customer service asker, I truly dislike being the askee. That's really neither here nor there, as it's not as though this fellow chased me down for a dissertation on Hoth system. In fact I easily returned to my invisiblity, trading meat browsing for yogurt browsing. I heaved a jug of orange juice into the cart, because I should never shop thristy because I proceed to crave every juice imaginable.
This is when you made your first move, K. Over the tinny pa system came the first subtle, storytelling chords of Otis Redding's Try a Little Tenderness. As you know, this song makes me all sorts of sparkly inside. It is not, however, designed with invisibility in mind. As the song builds, the dancing--the frantic otherworldy twitching I call dancing--sneaks up through my lower intestine and into my nervous system. I am left helpless by the crescendo, a mess of limbs and hair dance/twitching with complete disregard for being out in public with folks who just want to buy Froot Loops. I ducked into the pasta aisle to avoid notice, just in case the light head bobbing I resolved to limit myself to got backed up and the surplus came out fingertips and feet as it almost certainly always does. However there was a another stock chap down this aisle--also eager and willing to assist me should I need it (good training, K) so I paused and quickly selected some mushroom ravioli. Which I am sure will be delicious, even if it was a hurried selection. The song was building to its crescendo and I could feel myself overfilling--despite my best efforts to nod, whistle, and lowly sing out the excess.
I scooted over to the health food section. No one is ever there after all. I thought I could huddle, shake out a few grooves, and resume my shopping with no notice. Otis kept building building building. He was really begging for it this morning. Little did he know he was also prompting some chick with Elaine dance moves and music induced mania to commit some atrocities by the Tofutti. I started to release, a little ankle shake, an imperceptible shoulder waggle, when two more stock guys turned the corner and started heading my way. I caught my breath, tightened my limbs, and attempted to look super interested in some spelt. The stock boys, why the hell is everyone so g-d friendly?, smiled at me. Otis was about to take it home, break it down, take it to the top, over the edge, etc etc. The vibrations in my bones let me know there was no way I could be still. I resolved to go wherever my body took me in the moment--men in matching polos be damned. I let the song fill my ears...
Try
try
try
a
little

But Otis didn't continue, instead the dulcet tones of your PA system informed me that there was a sale on somesuch and that of course I could be saving lots of cash with your customer savings program. Normally I would smack someone on the mouth for turning off Otis at his peak, especially to replace soul with customer loytaly messaging. But today, K, you knew it was just what I needed. I straightened. Felt a bead of sweat drip down my back and headed for the soda aisle. You even politely played Billy Joel, some good comedown kind of tune, and then continued with some eighties rot I didn't even know the words to.
So, while I must question your taste in music K, knowing how to relieve a gal of the threat of publicspasms is indeed something to be celebrated. Thanks so much.

The facts were these

2009-11-22T17:12:00.000-08:00

Based on a rigorous schedule of (grocery-store purchased) hair dyeing, my hair is becoming fairly unnaturally red. Not Joanie red, but red nonetheless.

My forearms and hands have become horribly mutilated by the oven at work. The oven at work, combined with my propensity for accidents. I have been accused of cutting, working with cats, or just bruising incomprehensible amounts from derby. None of the burns are painful or oozing at the moment;I consider this progress.

My car also smells yeasty.

I get a break from the derbs for over a month starting. right. now. I am hoping to use this time to recapture old hobbies, habits, and hopes. Since this year has been on giant, disappointing plateau for me as an "athlete," there is always the possibility an old love could usurp this one. I doubt it, but never say never. (I am hoping for writing. But killing four years of writer's block is a hefty thing to ask for). I would also like to volunteer for an organization, but I haven't pinpointed one yet. I always have planned to do more of this, but nothing short of selfishness for time has kept me from it.

Oh, and perhaps I will blog more. But only so long as I can keep it away from being self-pitying and musing. Less angst, more action is the theme I am adopting from this point forward. It's a fine lesson to learn at age 28.

Second Cake

2009-03-09T09:01:00.001-07:00

super sweet birthday cake
Originally uploaded by dedi

Not so elegant. made for my friend Dedi's surprise b-day. Chocolate chip icing with ganache accoutrement to make it not look like a mush of frosting and chips. It was a fine cake, just really sweet for my taste, and I kind of hurried through some steps for no good reason. So the filling got gobbled by the cake, the layers were a lil uneven. Chocolate chips in icing=good, however spreading generic sugary icing with chips=nightmare--especially if the cake is deliciously delicate. Buttercream or cream cheese in the future for sure

UPDATE: Brought a piece home and the next day I could not stop eating it. Yum!

Rosemary & Chocolate Cake with Rosemary Buttercream

2009-02-17T08:10:00.001-08:00

Rosemary & Chocolate Cake with Rosemary Buttercream
Originally uploaded by BozAphra

I knew you were comin' so I baked a cake.

Year in Review

2008-12-24T11:23:00.000-08:00

I spent most of the year thinking I would probably be moving to Texas at the end of it. A secret I kept not so secret after a glass of wine. Dallas is not in the cards at the moment, but I still have an uncertain future in an uncertain city ahead of me. It's still the waiting game for us--but vacating Columbus is inevitable at some point unless the breadwinner decides to change career paths or I find a career path right quick. We're looking countrywide now and that ranges from the inspiring (Chicago) to the aw, hell no (Fayetteville).

I learned that I absolutely cannot work an office job, even if that means returning to the low paying world of retail. I have sought out several solutions to the ongoing career crisis--including going so far as to enroll in science classes (that I enjoyed!) but it seems unlikely hat I have the patience at my advanced age to make that career path come to fruition. I also discovered that I love cooking (no surprise since my jean size reveals I love food), and am currently considering that path but know that I am also WAAAY behind in that field too. I still write and draw but have pretty much given up on the hope that I will ever be satisfied enough with anything I produce to send it into the world of commerce. I have also become painfully aware that if/when this derby biz becomes more lucrative, my body will have fallen apart at the seams. I will play like a champ amateur until the day the I unravel though.

I have a few semi-secret pots on the burners as I always need things to strive and look forward to, but the angst is still the same ol same ol in this neck of the woods and I don't see an end in sight despite being past the polite age for this sort of thing.

Cheers and Happy Life Day!

NANOWRIMO starts tomorrow

2008-10-31T10:57:00.001-07:00

Will I be participating? Perhaps.

Fancy That

2008-07-23T20:10:00.001-07:00

I am not sure what I want to say. I have a lot on my mind. Mostly the musculature of the lower limbs. Both because it hurts me, and because I must identify various aspects of it on a cadaver tomorrow afternoon.

My body is wrecked form derby. So is my mind, but that's another hill of beans that has to do with silliness and things I don't have to think about in the next week or so. This summer has been full of injury. tiny ones, like the fracture blog so long ago. And an ankle sprain. And finally an actual skating injury to the hip/thigh area (I till have yet to determine which anatomical name to use for the destruction). My body is also wrecked from lack of derby. too little practice and weeks of limited mobility have left me a lil softer than I prefer. Glarg.

The world feels like it's on fire. Which I suppose it does now and again. I just hate this time in the human cycle. I prefer the building, not the burning down--but both are necessary.

Why did Kara Thrace have to go nutjob? This is the question I want answered most of all (I am sure there are adequate answers, really).

Flight of the Conchords +

2008-05-26T08:38:00.000-07:00

Saw 'em. Live. Reignited old passion.

Apparently for Ryan too.... Conversation:

Ryan: The little one is your favorite, right?

Me: I dunno I like them both a lot.

Ryan: But you like Brett the best right?

Me: I dunno, I like Brett when he wobbles his head like a Muppet, but I really like Jemaine when he's being a jackass.

Ryan (in a voice only a 13 year old fangirl should produce): Jemaine is mine!

Other highlights;

*I won a beer lottery. It was basically a race to see who could down eight draft beers the fastest. We put all 12 tap beers in a jack-o-lantern bucket and pulled a new beer each round. I *lucked* out and kept getting light and easy to drink beers like Stella, Mich Ultra, and Budweiser. Apparently my powers of consumption become great once I summit at four beers (Let's just say nefarious folks snuck a shot of tequila and red bull and Johnny in there as well, which I apparently gutted quickly and efficiently). My body doesn't agree with me, as I--for the first time ever-reached memory loss drunk. Needless to say, I am glad to have the crown, but the next challenge will be sans wookiee as my drinking challenge days have met an end.
I will always compete to win, and frankly I'd rather just drink a couple good beers and watch every one else make themselves sick.

*Travelling time is upon us again. The next three months have me in STL, Philadelphia, and then Boston. Regionals are in Madison this fall, and then Nationals are in Portland. I'm not sure if OHRG is going to qualify for either, but I'd like to make one or both if time and funds allow.

The Wex

2008-05-04T12:12:00.000-07:00

is trying to steal my schedule. Seriously, the Bad Plus, indie comic artists galore... They usually have awesome things a-happenin' but this is the first time I've picked up their flier at the local coffee shop and felt overwhelmed. I will probably just do what I always do and sit at home and watch Veronica Mars for the fifteenth time. But I'll actually feel guilty about it.

PS Who knew that Jeff Smith the creator of Bone is from/sometimes still lives in my hood? So odd.

www.wexarts.org/cal/

M'Birthday

2008-03-29T22:25:00.000-07:00

Celebrated the upcoming transition to 27 in a private karaoke room, with 20-30 of my closest rollerfriends. I sang a lot. If you've ever heard me sing, and understand the painful shyness I have about it, you know that this is a big deal. It's not like all the sudden I learned how to hit notes. It's just easier to spazz out in front of people who know that you spazz on a regular basis. I got loverly presents from some of the closest rollerfriends--two giant bottles of whiskey (1 Jamie, 1 fancy Bushmill's), a big vegan cookie, ginger beer, and the awesomest shoulder bag ever. It is red and black and made of old skirts and has a chainsaw on it (love love love). The place we went was this giant overlit megaplex of karaoke rooms, bubble tea, a Sanrio store, a four lane bowling alley, and a huge common area filled with college age and younger folks. The joint even keeps board games for folks to play. Kinda pricey for a Saturday night, but not so pricey the rest of the week. Lame service, fun everything else. The end. I'll jazz you up tomorrow.

Because I do what he says

2008-03-19T11:01:00.000-07:00

I have a fracture.

Tiny to be sure. Two tiny bits of bone that escaped from a not much bigger one.

They've been nagging me for the past two weeks. Dumb bits stealing skate time. Making my middle go soft(er) and rocklike leg muscles melt into puddles of fat.

There's no physical proof of them. No lumps. No bruise even. Maybe a slight limp if I overuse. Stand too long. Try to dance. Try to skate.

It's less than dime-sized, the place where the mean doctor shoved his thumb and made it hurt. He dug in all over my Fred Flintstone foot and not a peep until bingo.

And there they were like two little pebbles. No, too big... Tic Tacs But smaller even still. And hanging out where they don't belong.

I don't have big boot to drag along or crutches or even tape. I can wear pretty black flats and no one notices a thing. But even without a visible wound, I worry, what will be the next bit to escape? Brain out the ears? Teeth like in an anxious night sweat? Hair off the top like an aging fella?

2008-03-11T14:01:00.000-07:00

Why I am not allowed to be near eyeliner.

Haiku

2007-11-29T12:13:00.000-08:00

Someone wrote a haiku about me, or rather my alter ego:

Derby Haiku

I find it flattering and strange. Which adds up to good I guess...

Wanderlust

2007-10-31T07:46:00.000-07:00

I've been lotsa places this year. Most of `em just for a minute or two it seems. I've caught the travel bug and am considering becoming a big rig driver. (I am not including layovers in airports, though if I was--I've spent quite a bit of time in Dallas)

List:
St. Louis, MO (4 times?)
Detroit, MI
Philadelphia, PA
Chapel Hill, NC
Cleveland, OH
Dayton, OH (these barely count of course)
Napa Valley, CA
San Francisco, CA (for nearly no time at all)
Austin, TX
San Juan, Puerto Rico
Barbados
St. Lucia
Antigua
St. Maarten
St. Thomas (cruise ships inflate numbers)

Still to come:
Virginia Beach
Grand Rapids, MI
and trips back to the Lou and NC
and probably a jaunt to Baltimore in Feb.

Derby and unprecedented family vacations have made this a crazy year. I know derby isn't going to die down at all, though I'm pretty sure the family trips are over for awhile. Ryan and I are opting out of a mini-trip to Vegas we were considering for December because sometimes it's nice to have vacation days at home.

G'day October

2007-10-18T07:11:00.000-07:00

Pretty creepy, but after a long period of feeling pretty okay, this week I've hit the skids again. So I think, maybe I'll check my blog and see if this is the time of year that this happens. Sure enough October 17, 2006 I posted something very similar to how I'm feeling today. This year it feels completely magnified because I just spent a vacation week in what to some might be paradise. I had a great time... sun/fun/etc... but re-entry has been pretty difficult, especially since in the week that I was gone mornings have become dark and rain has become cold. Also I'm completely lame and any amount of time spent away from people means I have to start the sweaty process of easing back into conversation--but everybody else expects that the relationship is still at the same place. Also I gave blood yesterday, which is normally an easy task for me, but it meant that my body was too exhausted to practice correctly--and that is driving me bananas. So yes I'm my good old neurotic/depressive/socially dysfunctional shelf. But it's October, and apparently that's normal.

2007-09-27T20:51:00.001-07:00

i purchased and am wearing blue jeans this evening. Something is amiss with the world.

Frankly

2007-09-24T08:43:00.000-07:00

I don’t have much to say. I just celebrated my two year wedding anniversary (for really real) and the Take-Outs took home the Envy Cup for the second year in a row. I am up to my eyeballs in derby. I am making the trek from Columbus to Austin this weekend to watch the best of the best so maybe someday I can be the best of the best too. Travel season starts now for us, and while our first game isn’t until November, it’s time to fully devote ourselves to this team instead of our home teams (which is preferable to the bopping back and forth, but I sure will miss the Take-Outs).
I am going on my first cruise ever in less than two weeks! I am very excited, but also a little fearful of: 1. Sharks 2. Motion Sickness 3. Sleeping through the whole week 4. Displaying white fleshy grossness in a bathing suit 5. The sun. 6. Falling off the boat 7. Revealing my foul mouth to my in-laws.

That’s it. Also I am back in school, which so far so boring, but since you need a certain piece of paper to be considered qualified for life I will trudge onward.

Moonshine

2007-08-20T14:25:00.000-07:00

Is delish. It's a fact.

Point of interest.

2007-08-16T12:31:00.001-07:00

Breaking News

Apology

2007-08-08T10:56:00.000-07:00

I suppose I forgot to mention that I abandoned the writing project. I am writing (!) but the prospect of an audience, as invisible and tiny as you are, was forcing me into the same bad Write. Edit. Write. Edit. habit that is the preeminent staller of my literary career. Instead I am allowing myself to be careless with sentence and tone at this point. If I feel like typing ‘burger bonanza’ or ‘super market attack squad,’ I do. If anything just to remove the stumbling block from my brain with a few extra keystrokes. Maybe such phrases will be contextually woven into the Tish and Clyde story. It is turning out more oddball than I originally intended (and it was already a little queer). Anyway thats' the deal.
I’m sorry, Diana.

Tattoo?

2007-07-12T08:11:00.000-07:00

Seriously.

Alive Stegosaurus one flank or foot
Stegosaurus bones on the other flank or foot.

Thoughts?

Duh

2007-07-10T13:24:00.000-07:00

Surprise, surprise I'm having a hard time adhering to self-imposed deadlines. I promise you there are sentences, but I also promise you they don't mean much at this point. I'm pretty sure they'll produce at least three stories though, so I'll make up for my negligence later this week.

New format soon

2007-07-05T13:47:00.000-07:00

Intent: Next Monday (sooner if I find the will) this site will be a daily flash fiction site. This is an attempt to flex my writing muscles before diving headlong into something more gigantic. So ideally as of next week you can read a story a day--they may be very good or very bad, but they will all be posted. 'You' of course being a wee blonde and whoever else straggles over to this site from time to time.

Maybe a little obsessed...but just a little

2007-06-09T10:10:00.001-07:00

Your perfume smells like a tampon

2007-05-21T19:36:00.000-07:00

And it made me sick the whole flight home from Chapel Hill, you jerk with your crispy blonde hair and lime green suit. I'm sure you think you're chic what with your glorified flip flops and ankle bracelet, and the way you passed out on the tray table was just so adorable. I don't know what it is that causes you to stink so badly that you have to douse yourself in perfume manufactured by Playtex, but the fact that I fell into fantasies of smashing your head against the luggage compartment repeatedly so I could enjoy the scent of fresh blood instead of ingesting one more whiff of your rotten rose stink (even if it meant they had to land the plane in Virginia, subject me to multiple TSA cavity searches, and ground me permanently) reveals that your 'secret trick' may not be the appropriate choice to cover up your odor. I could go on, but I have to go puke now.

2007-05-20T16:56:00.000-07:00

Not particularly glamorous portrait of what I look like at the moment.

Quick Updates

2007-05-17T15:45:00.000-07:00

!. I have a new job working at a university in town, not THE univesity, but one of those other ones.

2. I have cut off a good lot of my hair.

3. The Take-Outs lost our first game ever last Saturday :(

4. I made the OHRG All-Star Travel Team for 2007-2008! Which means I may or may not get to go great places and do great things.

5. That's about it.

Derby-style Frustration

2007-04-08T15:51:00.000-07:00

It kind of blows to have worked really hard and long to form yourself into a better player, only to find yourself castrated by a slippery floor. I'm happy the Take-Outs took home the W last night, but today I don't have the glorious sore satisfaction of a job well done. Poop. I'll have to doubletime my efforts and invest in sticky wheels for next month.
On the other hand I did get my picture take with some Rebel Alliance pilots (at their request!) and got to 'to the gut' a Storm Trooper, so it wasn't a total loss!
Look out next month for the impenetrable Chewblocka Defense.

What's that you say?

2007-03-31T15:14:00.000-07:00

26.
Yep.

Erm, uh, erm

2007-03-22T08:45:00.000-07:00

I know I don''t post all that often so I'm not sure who is even reading this still. But guess what? I want to change my name again! Shocked? I'm not. Ryan and I were tossing out names and he came up with Chewblocka, and seriously it's like I could see myself skating with that name. Posing for head shots with my arms cockily behind my head, wearing a bandolier (or tromp d' loeil-ing one on my jersey, being called Chewie. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. Derby names are kind of a big deal, you have to like register them and all, and I'd want to do this before 4/7...our first bout...which is so appropriately titled Derby Strikes Back. And I'm not sure everyone would be on board with me making the switch, But i think I want this one just enough to try. Last name change. I promise.

Why I hate losing (and sometimes team sports)

2007-03-21T15:34:00.000-07:00

We lost two games in a row this weekend, which was alawys at the back of my mind this weekend. Treading out into interleague waters is dangerous as you leave the safety of how your home league plays the game. While I loved each and every person on the team this time, it was a weaker team by virtue of scheduling conflicts, etc. This is evidenced by the fact that I played more in these two games than I ever have in my derby career. I've gotten a lot better over the last few months, but I ain't that great ;). I've never been much for team sports, and even in my non-athletic activities I've tended to veer toward the individual rather than the group. I like the family that can develop, but I like for all the failure (and, okay, the success) to fall squarely on my shoulders. I have to keep reminding myself that this is no longer the game I play, and that if I want to truly succeed at this particular sport I'm going to have to find that team mentality. I need to find a way to motivate and be motivated, communicate and listen, etc.
Blah blah blah.

Philly

2007-03-13T09:17:00.000-07:00

If you happen to be craving cheesesteak this weekend, why not buzz into Philadelphia and catch me skating witht he Ohio Rollergirls at the Phildelphia East Coast Extravaganza. seriously this weekend is going to be derby madness, back to back to back WFTDA bouts (we're playing Windy City and Grand Raggidy) with weird challenge bouts like Team Awesome v. (who cares/ I vote team awesome). Hopefully we come back with two wins under our belt, our travel team is less experienced this time around but we have a really good chemistry (must be cuz of the multitude of Take-Outs an Bullies). Anyway, that's what I've been doing lately. looking forward to, etc. Sorry for lack of posting, not much interesting to say since my brain is all 'derby derby what to do with my life derby'.

2007-02-19T15:43:00.000-08:00

This is what I did this weekend. You fill in the blanks.

More things I've Learned

2007-02-03T19:27:00.000-08:00

The relief of saying a negative feeling you have out loud is not worth the way echoes in your own head.

Your husband will take care of you through even the smallest of disappointments.

You still get those headaches. Sorry.

Beer is possibly the most refreshing thing after a workout. But you should drink water instead.

This is a period of great danger. Both you and your husband have witnessed improbable accidents; and a fairly accident free stretch for the team has been broken not once, but twice in the past week and in bone breaking ways.

It's not too bad to go out. But you still prefer a night in.

Snow loses some majesty when it dusts the ground every day.

Dear April,

2007-01-24T19:07:00.000-08:00

Things you've learned this week:

Detroit is possibly the most dystopic city ever.

Eating many bananas will make you gut bloat like you are preggers.

Talking to people isn't so hard. In fact people kind of like you. I know you aren't sure what to do with this information.

You still do that weird clicking thing with the back of your throat when you are sick.

Your husband hates this.

You miss someone so much you have recurring dreams about them.

You love music. To insane amounts.

Particularly Queen. And songs with organs. And girl singers.

You are not ashamed of this.

You still really want to illustrate children's books. And staring at them on a regular basis at work is starting to give you a complex.

You are ashamed of this.

You relish dressing frumpy.

You're newly in love. But you're not sure who or what with. Probably the air.

Definitely air.

Reflection

2006-12-31T17:43:00.000-08:00

Last year I wrote out my future for this past year. In most ways it accurate, except for the inevitable devolution into fantasy and insanity. I thought I'd take a second before I try I to figure out where I will be imbibing this evening to reflect on the year in my typical neurotic way.
In so many ways my world has flipped. I live in a new city. I am surrounded by new people. I am still groggy and lazy and unsuccessful at my typical New Year's resolutions (lose weight! write books! get degree!), but I am also changed. That is I have been undergoing a change for the last year and a half, Ias I turn the corner on this new year embedded in my new life, I find that the hopeful young pup of yesteryear has disappeared from inside my breast. There used to be something that powered me: a kind of faith, a kind of mysticism that didn't really include God, but rather a romantic faith that the world held secret treasures. If I could only find the map I would at once feel at ease. But now that this ferociously burning light has tamped down into nothing but a few stray embers, I can feel roots growing up and tethering my legs to the earth. My folks-in-law refer to me in their X-mas letter as "ever the free spirit," which in their parlance means that I am peculiar, but to me seems another dead weight to carry. I might once have been free of the pressures and restrictions of normality, but I now feel lost within them. I understand now that the world works as it works, not as I imagine it should. But I don't know how to operate in it, nor do I know how to melt myself down into something that fits better. I know this is a ridiculous thing to post, so full of angst (Still! At 25!). And is the sort of thing that when read out loud sounds stupid and overdramatic. But it really is the way I feel. I feel as though I have to erase everything and start from scratch, or maybe I just have to get this monkey off my back. Or maybe I should just let the inevitable happen and slip so far back into my brain the rules of the outside air cease to matter.
No matter.
Hopefully champagne or whiskey or some other alcoholic brute will alleviate this meandering mind, and I can just slip into my electric skin and stay there.

How I Met Your Former Castmates

2006-12-29T18:22:00.000-08:00

Ryan and I fell into a holiday/vacation coma last night and this morning. To entertain our overfed bodies and over-relatived minds we popped in 'How I Met Your Mother' a show we've both been meaning to watch since the previews showed Alyson Hannigan donning an eye patch (frankly the whole thing gives me an erection). It's light fare and sadly proscenium/laugh track sitcom style, but it does feature Ms. Hannigan, Jason Segel (from Freaks and F'ing Geeks), and Neil Patrick Harris ('Can't Buy Beer, Can Prescribe Drugs'). There's also two charming, if actory actors who round out the group of friends (a Jimmy Fallon-esque fella as the I in the title; and a pretty Canadian who despite her own merits I want desperately to be Jaye from 'Wonderfalls'). It's not GOOD, but it is good and funny and I feel like I can relate to this group of friends 1000% more than their nineties counterparts. But the bestest of all are the guest spots by the likes of Ms. Hannigan and Mr. Segel's former costars--I don't care what they're doing it's always nice to see Haverchuck, Wesley Windham Pryce (with his propesterous American accent, I know you're my countryman but I still refuse to believe it you stinkin' limey), Neil Schweiber, and Winifred Burkle. Also Marshmallow and Lillypad (the Segel and Hannigan characters) have some in common with this fried and stuffed couple, and Doogie's stinkin' hilarious in the best role on the show. It's easy, it's breezy, eat it up with a spoon.

2006-12-14T22:17:00.000-08:00

Late and horribly framed, but here's me as a blonde.

Ack!

2006-12-10T14:46:00.000-08:00

So I don't really post anymore, which disconcerts me. I think it's maybe because I have become the crankiest person alive, and in general I try to keep my bad blood to myself. So I apologize for lack of stark mad ravings or semi-fun photos. And the lack of roller derby updates. On that front I've got a huge bruise on my left inner thigh and a few spattered across my arms. In the freedom of the off season I've been going in as jammer, which is fun as hell but also means I get purdy thrashed.
I leave you with a recent work experience.
Man with jingle bells on his sweater: True or False, the library is closed tomorrow.
Me: We're closed, but a few of our larger branches are open.
MWJBOHS: True or False, is the library busy in the evening if I come back in a little while?
Me: Come back? We close at six on Saturdays.
MWJBOHS: What time is it now?
Me: Five.
MWJBOHS: Oh my. There are not enough hours in the day this time of year. I got up at seven and a haven't stopped until now.
Me: Sure. Sure.
MWJBOHS: It's just that I'm so busy being SANTA and all. It's the worst time of year for my computer to explode on me.
Me: Well, that can happen.

And also:

Co-worker: Have you ever watched that show NCIS, it's real quirky for that kind of show. There's this girl on there she's a Garth. You know she dresses in dark clothing.

Well, here I am

2006-11-28T22:29:00.000-08:00

It' been a time since I've posted so I feel obligated, and since I'm up at 1:30 in the AM what else am I supposed to do?
We just had a huge class of new derby skaters come in, which is a) awesome and b)really sheds light on how far I've come in the past year. The fact that I can be neurotic about the subtle nuances of my game is a miracle. I can't wait to see who breaks out of the pack...people will surprise you.

I went to NC for Thanksgiving. Every time I go my sisters are older which creeps me out to no end. We had fun, ate turkey and yummy stuffing, etc. But yeah, I'm really an adult now, and they almost are too. Weird. Especially since I still have so many adolescent angst issues to knead out.

Other than that, it's same ol' same ol' in this neck of the woods. I've readjusted my writing deadline to my 26th birthday, which allows me time for breathing and skating and visting certain hometowns. I'm sorta stinky right now which I'd wager is a good 67% of the time, if someone could teach me a method for bathing motivation, I'd at least listen. Seriously, I'm pretty stunted in that department. Actually in anything tht is supposed to be habit, even coffee --the thing I love--is not a ritualized occurrence. I am as random as lottery numbers, or choose your own adventure... I love how blogging makes me sleepy and so by the end of every one of these muthers, I'm spewing forth phrases rather than thoughts. Buy now cus I killed a man in Reno and by the power of Grayskull the Namibian climate is submerged deep inside the polar ice caps and Stanley Tucci should always have a mustache even f he thinks it makes him look butch. Or something like that...

Don'tcha know?

2006-11-13T05:20:00.000-08:00

So we got a derby lesson at the hands of the number four team in the country this weekend, but I think it's only made us want to come back stronger and better. Despite playing a solid game, we got canoodled and shutdown scoring wise. I don't think it's anything experience won't remedy. We similarly schooled another Ohio team who's a little greener than us last week. As with all sports, just when you think you've got derby down someone comes around to show you a thing or three. For any versed in the derby world, Minnesota's pack speed and explosiveness are incredible and the entire roster is solid through and through (I speak as the weaker part of the Ohio roster). They also play a different game as far as penalties and while we technically played by WFTDA rules the reffing was pretty free and easy, which took a lot of adjusting for us. If it had been called like an Ohio bout, they would have had had a lot more ladies in the box which may have given us a chance to close the point dividend a little. But that's pretty much splitting hairs, because we got beat :)
It was a crazy weekend overall that started with my flight getting canceled and continued to me losing my wedding band in the X-Ray machine a security. The TSA ladies aggressively helped me track it down (it fell out in the machine and then onto the floor), but not before I completely lost it in front of scads of people. I sat hunkered at one f the security tables sobbing like they found an ounce of coke in my bag. Ryan's flight got canceled as well, but not until he was in Chicago and not until the end of the day which means he got stuck and now has a million good husband points. A derby loss and a tragically long layover later and we ended up at home. This is where it gets fun. As is well publicized Ryan cannot stand the sight of blood, it's makes his broad, deceptively macho looking self curl up into the fetal position. Let's just say we were getting romantic, I sniff a bit, and then a torrent of blood comes spilling out my nose. Less experienced nose bleeders would have gushed blood all over, but I got away only leaving a few drops behind. Really amazing considering I spent the next fifteen minutes or so filling the toilet twice over. Meanwhile Ryan is cowering in the bed and I'm shouting Don't look Don't look, but of course he does. He didn't faint which is amazing, but I did hear some gurgly noises. He comes into the bathroom because he has some blood on him, sees the toilet full of more blood than an episode of Nip/Tuck, wigs a little and wants to know if I need to go to the hospital. I get REALLY bad bleeds. I have since I was little. I used to wake up in puddles of it and remember being picked up a few times only to douse the picker upper. This was a particularly bad one. As an experienced bleeder I;m pretty good at getting them to stop, but no amount of stuffing or pinching helped. And so the blood just sort of was at a steady rain into the toilet. I knew it was coming. I've had sinus problems for the last couple weeks and I had a stressful weekend, and slept crappy in the hotel, and then hopped on an airplane, and I woke up one morning to find the stuff going the other way down my throat which it likes to do from time to time. Anyway, it's over. I think Ryan's okay, but the point is I never really knew our tragic flaw before. I'm pretty sure every pairing has one. For some it's religion, for others it's politics, other it's infidelity or over-competitive scrabble playing. But for us it's the hemophobic and the girl with torrential epistaxis.

avoidancefailuresloth

2006-11-08T19:41:00.000-08:00

So here's the thing---I was s'posed to write the great American novel this month. Or at least the great flaky mish mash sorta long storyish piece of something. It is after all NanoWriMo and I am after all only partially employed. And I am after all s'posed to be a writer. And this was after all s'posed t be my 'if you're going to do this, do it now' moment. But then the in-laws came in for a three day visit and I got caught up in the election and it became absolutely necessary to bake cookies and glue a star tiara on my helmet and watch reruns of Sex and the City On Demand and, well, sleep like I've never slept before (the cure to insomnia of course being an impossible deadline). I only have 300 words. Which is essentially an e-mail.
On the plus side Nathan Fillion showed up on Lost tonight. (On the poopy side, he didn't have much to do--still it has led me to yet another stall tactic.--rewatch all of Firefly. I can't effin' wait!)

Vote or Perish

2006-11-07T13:02:00.000-08:00

I'm a little sullen that I didn't get to cast a vote against Jim Talent this year. Sigh. As predicted by my parents when I was tender age of eight, I've pretty much hopped aboard the D-Train. There is a dearth of third party politics in my district/state and the Green Party candidate for guv'nr's main platform is hemp, which is just ridiculous.

If you haven't voted yet; do it or the ghost of Ben Franklin will eat your soul and curse you with a million illegitimate children...

Borat?

2006-11-06T09:03:00.000-08:00

Just wondering what other people think. These are the things I think:

1. I was brutally offended several times. Not even just sorta kinda 'that's wrong' offended, but deep down in my soul hurt kind of offended. And I don't get cheesed off easily.

2. I am left with a craving for it.

Hahaha

2006-10-31T21:48:00.000-08:00

I am repulsive

2006-10-30T09:21:00.000-08:00

Normally I am the best drinker ever. By which I mean I hit tipsy quickly and maintain it without falling into the the sloshing around with underwear on head raging kind of drunk (I do get silly, but I get silly without liquor if I'm in the right mix--bless my f'ed brain chemisry for that). I don't get sick, maybe a little headache-y the next day. Because of this I usually roll my eyes at other folks post-party woes, playing the part of Miss-Drunky-Know-It-All. Since I spent most of yesterday going from toilet to bed toilet ot bed, with a stop on the floor for good measure, I want to apologize. First to all those hungover schmoes who've come before me; who's pain I found quaint as I sipped coffee and ate eggs and listened to loud, happy music. And secondly to myself, because goddamn I haven't hurt that badly in a long time. Probably I should have known what I was in for when I opted to bring a bottle of Jameson and my own shot glass to a party full of people I only half-know. Social awkwardness=bottle to lips. Probably should not have indulged at all consdering the roaring sinus infection that's plagued me all week. But I am dumb and was wearing a costume and I was very relieved that the slutty costumes of he previous night made way for the more maturely creepy costumes of my almost friends (Hellion as naaaasty Boy Scout leader, Luna as shiny faced, yellow-suited, creep the hell out of everyone bank robber) and some legitimately sexy costumes (Foxy as the Bride from Kill Bill in a yellow jumpsuit that would look ridiculous on anyone besides a six-foot blonde). I went with Enid because I had to scrub the perfect off from the night before. Low and behold a handful of the best people got it. Not that that really matters after what now seems like half a million shots of whiskey. Ryan, I mean, Zombie Elvis, M.D., was a real trooper playing designated driver at a party full of people he hardly knows and with none of the nipple slippage of the last derby outing he attended. Since I'm at about 85% today I can look back fondly--I think hangovers may be like giving birth, the pain is forgotten so that you can fall right back into the trap agian.

A wee bit o'home

2006-10-27T22:26:00.001-07:00

Hooray a Cards World Series! I am only a casual fan at best, but I was the lame-o at the Halloween party tonight who kept turning on the tv to check the score. I didn't watch because in general I find I'm bad luck, just checked the score and went back to the room filled with seriously some of the skankiest costumes I've ever seen. And by that I mean we referred to one of the girls as the Naked Girl as in, "Oh, looks like the Naked Girl is back." I think she was a devil, but she was wearing chaps and a thong and seriously I don't understand the appeal of that because everyone in the room has to try not to look at you (even if they want to). I mean if that's what you want... Me, I wanted to dress like this Which I passed off as 'Stepford Wife' but really it was just about being pulled together and 'perfect'--antithesis of actual April. Of course since it was just a costume the wig liked to wiggle it's way up my scalp.
(um, tech diff at moment--pic later)
My real party is tomorrow (tonight was a semi-birthday party for my teammate Royal who just turned 21 which explains the co-ed in assless chaps). I'm still figuring out what I want to do--probably some sort of zombie variation, Maybe on tonight's costume even. Tired and going to bed...

Enforced Deadlines

2006-10-23T15:21:00.000-07:00

So I'm going to cave-in and do it. Mostly because I finally remebered it before November was halfway over. NaNoWriMo, my bloody little typing fingers are all yours.

2006-10-17T13:49:00.000-07:00

Or we could discuss mental health.

Holy Jesus I feel like every bone has been sucked out of my body and I am just a limp sack of skin. That's how I feel. I need to start charting because I think this happens a lot this time of year, but I also think I tend to have a lot more spikes of energy and madness as well, which just hasn't been the case. Hmmm.

I promise more scintillating entry later, but I HAVE SOMEWHERE TO BE IN 45 MINUTES AND IT WILL TAKE ME THAT LONG TO FINISH GETTING DRESSED.

How we combat Nellie

2006-10-13T20:43:00.000-07:00

We post a picture of ourselves that is lovely (if a bit of a lie--it is a picture of me, but rarely do my features achieve harmony like this) and we pat ourselves on the back and sing inspirational hymns. To ourselves, of course, after all not everyone finds Come Sail Away to be the anthem of self-love and emotional highs that we do. We will also use the royal we because it makes us feel as though we are big and strong like China and not cold and pointless like Antarctica. We are NICE to people in a saucy way, because this kind of demeanor is what brings us the most success at work, in derby, in life. For some abject cruelty fuels the fire, for others it's an air of the debonair. For us it is telling people how great they are in a non-gushing way and throwing a wink and a smile like a certain girl we once knew named Aimee. We also try to get some goddamn sleep because four to five hours just ain't cuttin' it especially now that the weather is frosty and we would prefer to stay underneath blankets and dream about being fantastic instead of actually being fantastic. The exhaustion alone is enough to throw a gauzy haze over everything so that Nellie might whisper in our ear about the terrible condition of the world and our even more terrible addition to it. We have to believe her in this state as we cannot see for ourselves that we are kind of great if we only remember to be silly once in awhile. We are starting to sound effete, and so we will end this rambly affirmation

No Confidence Nellie

2006-10-12T20:35:00.000-07:00

That's it. It's who I am and it's why my brain is mush and if anyone could sell me just a little bit I'd gladly give you my fortune. Seriously, thinking I'm a worthless piece of shit has made me a boring, useless piece of shit and I just can't deal.

For the Record

2006-10-10T21:42:00.000-07:00

My knee isn't busted up like it was last March. It's just if I fall on it wrong, I get a funny bone effect going. This maybe means I should stay away from contact, but I don't wanna. Seriously, I am fine. Besides I am totally reinvigorated derby wise because I feel like the combination of new sticky wheels combined with lots o' excercisin' is starting to pay off. I'm getting a little speedier. Not A LOT speedier, but still. Plus under my layers of cookie weight there real solid masses of muscle growing which just makes me feel real tough (so tough I have dreams about doing infinite pull ups!??). Sorry, just got home from practice and have a nice skating euphoria going on. One thing I need to learn--How to hit harder! I think I hit okay hard, but I want a wallop to end all wallops. Hopefully increased speediness and muscliness will help. God I can't believe this is going to be a post. But it is.

Updates

2006-10-07T19:56:00.000-07:00

Because I think some may care here are some quick updates before I shuffle off to dreamland:

Ryan was horribly ill yesterday, weak and whiny and asleep the entire day. I've been downing Airborne like it's going to prevent something, but am sorta achy myself.

We saw the Departed today. Good fun!

Also my dad an brother are in town which means it's been toilet talk all day. If anyone has every wonder at my curious personality, one must only meet my mother and then spend a day with my father, and there it is.

So that big long book post, I have engaged a new solution: Time Traveler's Wife. God bless this perfect perfect book (which may actually have been the instigator of my ruin).

Derby: Ultimate frustration this week as my knee is all twingy. Since I am only on this trave team by the skin of coincidence, I feel re-al bad having to sit out at practice. Which means I don't, until I can't go anymore. Stoopid but determined not to suck it up.

The end.

(Oh yeah, my house is CLEAN. I can walk into room without tripping over laundry or fossilized dinner plates. Seriously now is the time to see the place--it can't last long!)

Here we go...

2006-10-03T10:28:00.000-07:00

I stole this from Phronemophobia . It made me throw up in my mouth.

Tough customer

2006-10-02T21:49:00.000-07:00

We had our OHRG awards banquet this Saturday. Everybody got dolled up and then got drunk and slightly less dolllike. Lots of debauchery to be had if you're into that sort of thing.
And I am.
For the masucline description check out Ryan's blog.
I got no trophy (boo) but did manage to end up a 'nominee' for 'Skater to Watch Next Year' I didn't really expect that anyone would think to write me in at all, so to see my picture flashed big on the screen was a weirdo surprise. By that point in the evening I was toasty (as Hellion puts it), so I didn't even flinch! Sah-weet!
I'm trying to come up with somehting to be for Halloween. Any suggestion will be considered. I had a string of years there where I had clever movie tie-in costumes, but I haven't had a good one in a few years. I actually have a party-party to go to, not just a random assemblage of nattily dressed folk, so I feel the need to have something charming. Costumes for girls are always so slutty, and while I don't mind this so much on other people, I just don't have the motivation to be tits out as a sexy witch or sexy pirate or sexy bumblebee or whatever. If I bought one of these costumes I'd inevitably spend the entire night hiding under a pillow or a blanket or someone's coat. I don't know why I'm not a real girl, I'm just not , okay?
Okay I think I spilled enough beans out of head to sleep for the night. I promise someday this blog will return to is former technicolor madness. But lately I just need to use it to empty the ol' cabeza.
I had a dream last night about a painting that I should do. I'm considering embracing the ethereal and doing it. But then I'm also considering: cutting my hair into a short bob--this never looks as good a when it's long but it does give me a little more spunk; actually forming sentences on paper that lead to paragraphs and chapters and the like; falling asleep right on the keyboard. Seriously I am all the sudden exhausted even liftin' my bones to type. The end.

About the Shy

2006-09-26T21:15:00.000-07:00

So we celebrated our one year wedding anniversary this weekend. The skin under my ring has a different texture thatn the rest of my hand, smooth and silky like a stone that's being polished by the current of a river. Ain't that poetic.
We went to Barcelona, a nice nearby restaurant, to celebrate. I, of course, drank too much wine. But the thing that struck me most about the night is how uncomfortable I was entering the new restaurant. It's becoming a trend, this begging off of the unknown. I would rather just curl up under a blanket in my house. I have to force myself to do things, pleasurable things, like going out to dinner or even a derby after party. I've always been shy of things, and these minor breakdowns in the face of new social situations have periodically cropped up through my life, but in the last two years or so it's become chronic. I am trying to fight it with every fiber of my being, because there is a part of me that wants to be out and about. I like trying new things, sopping up new experiences, but in the end there's always this nagging feeling of foolishness or lack of safety. I don't know what it is really; if I did, I could dissect it until it no longer existed. Instead I literally have to wrestle myself in the doorway. It's stupid and a waste of my time and I just want to be done with it.

Update

2006-09-22T17:20:00.000-07:00

So I just made the travel team for real. Dixie's out, so I'm in. Freezing cold Minner-sota here I come!

Who died?

2006-09-20T22:24:00.000-07:00

I wish that I had heard my phone ring because I missed a call from Pippi (the Take-Outs' captain) telling me that I'm one of two alternates for the Minnesota travel team. Which is just just so unbelievable that I want to ask her who died and made me alternate? Seriously, I love derby but the competition in my league is stiff. Part of the selection was based on availability for the bout date, but even within those limitations--still stiff competition for a newbie who perfers snickerdoodles to morning runs. All I know is I've been relieved of any cop-outs to my 'make yourself a derby hardass this winter' plan. I gotta practice now, for if one of my derby sisters should for any reason be unable to perform her duties, I need to be able to step in (and that actually means something in the land of broken tailbones and shattered ankles). Sweet fancy moses.

Going on

2006-09-20T19:15:00.000-07:00

So I have a bit of a confession. I am April. April=books. Well here's the kicker, I ain't finished a goddamn book in six months. I have some sort of syndrome that only allows me to get 100-200 pages in, and then thud, the thing falls from my hands and my mind like... something else I can't remember. This is not a new development. Sure it's stepped up its power over me in the last six months, but like cancer, there were early warning signs. It all started a few years ago. I'd be on a huge reading binge, and then misplace the book. This happened a lot when I was still living at home, toting around two or three titles in a giant bag because I was nerdy like that. Where they ended up is beyond me: UMSL classrooms, under my car seats, J & D's place, Ryan's house, Ryan's Columbia apartment, the library, various coffee stations across STL, I was out and about a lot of the time. But it was fine, I could replace one with another and manage to plow through that one until I laid eyes on my old friend. Then came comics. I read a lot of comics before I worked at Star Clipper, but upon being hired there I felt the need to read EVERYTHING in order to be an informed employee. You may not know this, but comics folk are pretentious bitches and if you don't know jack they will never trust you ever ever again. I could finish all of those because, pictures AND words make me insanely happy; I almost always finish graphic novels in one sitting, even if they're written by Alex Robinson. But there's something that that kind of reading does to your brain (ie MY brain). I dunno if it's laziness or some form of pen and ink ADD or what; all I know is that my former co-worker calls normal books 'prose novels' as a way of equalizing the medium, and I'm thinking of adapting the phrase as a device for making myself feeling less lame. That's pretty lame. But even with Batman and Clyde Fans swimming in my head, I still read, just not as much as before. I took to reading even more short story collections, because it was easier to do it piecemeal. Easier to finish a little something, rather than leave a big something open ended. But now...
I thought the whole unfettered access to the (free!) library reserve system might be my panacea, but no! I order them, check them out, read a solid hundred in one go, and then let them mock me with their closed covers until I return them. Even if I'm really, really, really loving them (Wickett's Remedy). I know my skills of concentration are marginal, but books have always been the one place I could dig in and set up camp, so I cannot believe that this syndrome is all my doing. In fact I know it's not. Of the exceptionally wonderful books I've managed to finish in the last few years, I can only think of one (one!) that had a satisfying ending that did not a) bore me to tears or b) make me throw the blessed book across the room while screaming Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! And this is what really scares me. Because, see, I have these characters and I have these words and I have this mad overwhelming desire to start to throw them all together on paper. But every time I scrawl shit across a yellow legal pad lately, an obnoxious little fairy eats away at my fingers until I can no longer hold the pen for the pain of the fear of a wretched ending. Because even writers who I know are heads and shoulders above me never pay attention to her and allow their fingers to continue to write until they're down to the bone and all their fancy research and words are turned stale with the blood. Overwrought metaphor? Try this one on--heads so far up their own asses they fail to think of the sorts of readers who pine after books; who form entire relationships with the cover, the spine, and the meat inside. The kind of readers who trust that every time they crack open a new title the mysteries of the world will come spewing forth. I know it's a lot to expect. I believe in easy love in the real world, but I guess my expectations for fiction are just a liittle more high maintenance. I want the book to be the white knight that saves me from this dullard world, and when that knight turns out to have a 300 hundred page beer gut and unachieved ambitions of his own then I tend to to walk the other way.
I am seeking a remedy. I'm digging throught he annals of my youth. Children's books with fewer pages, large type, and realized goals. Books I've read. Books that inspired me to continue reading. And books I always should have read but was too occupied reading other ones. Little books with big beating hearts that will hopefully rebuild my trust in fiction so that I can continue on to their more complex big brothers. And then maybe I can once again go all the way

Postin' Fool

2006-09-19T08:00:00.000-07:00

Can you tell I'm on a one-week derby hiatus? I have no idea what to do with all my time/energy. That should translate to increased productivity (ie clenaing, writing, etc.) but the blessed interweb is still more seductive siren.
And now I've completely forgotten what I was going to write about. I love my new coffee maker. It keep the coffee hot in the machine and then all you have to do is press a button and it spills all yummy brown and caffienated into my cup. It wasa wedding gift that we didn't need because we actually already had two coffemakers, but I broke my pretty red carafe when moving and Ryan's is complicated looking so I decided I'd break open the Cuisinart. I'm glad I did.

Stupid stuff from a tired girl

2006-09-17T23:07:00.000-07:00

The enemy of my enemy is my enemy.

I am really tired. but also wide awake with no direction. I think if I actually made the effort to go back to bed at this point I would fall asleep, but getting up from the big red space chair seems a little too daunting at the moment.
We went and saw the Black Dahlia today. I read the book around 8-10 years ago now. It's one of the things that truly perverted my sense of the world. Pretty much the rough and tumble description is lost in dePalma's translation though. Not that he doesn't try to make it sexy, just that it doesn't really have that raw edge that startled me so long ago. Granted I am a more jaded customer a decade later, but not by THAT much. Also, it's too complicated of a novel to adapt to screen without excising huge portions of the plot--which they did, but then expect everyone to fill in too much of the information while also being completely obvious with what is left. And that's my not so clever movie review of the day.
I think I might just be pissed because I really wanted to see Trust the Man with David Duchovny and Maggie Gyllenhaal and Co. but it seems to have left the entire Columbus area. Not like it was probably that spectacular either, but I think it's really where my brain wanted to be (ie Maggie Gyllenhaal's sweet, sweet bosom)

On another disappointing note, we watched the third season of Arrested Development recently, and knowing that the end is indeed here made it a bittersweet exchange. Sadly Charlize Theron's guest spot seems to be the fictional character most like April ever (besides the leggy blond thing), and we all know how that spoils out... Boo.

But not really

2006-09-16T05:28:00.000-07:00

And this:

Which Firefly character are you?

You are Captain Malcolm Reynolds, aka. Mal or Captain Tightpants. You saw most of your men die in a war you lost and now you seek solitude with a small crew that you are fiercely devoted to. You have no problems being naked.
Take this quiz!

Quizilla |
Join

| Make A Quiz | More Quizzes | Grab Code

Is why I am getting these:

Mal

Boob-a-loob

2006-09-14T22:42:00.000-07:00

Today @ Work

Old Guy: Say I was wondering...

Me: Yeah?

Old looks at my chest for a moment

Old Guy (remembering to look back up): I work over at Papa John's across the street...

Eyes drop back down, train of thought is lost.

Me: Yeah? (begging with my voice for eye contact)

Old Guy: If we get in any wrong orders would you like me to bring over the free pizza?

Eyes drop again.

Me: No.
(pause)
I don't eat pizza.

I'll admit that some cleavage is impossible to look way from, say Anita Ekberg in La Dolce Vita; however I don't dress my breasts to that epic level. Ever. Mostly because not a day has gone by since I reached the fourth letter of the alphabet (and on and on) that I haven''t tried to will them away or fantasized about applying a cheese slicer to the girth. As a result of those impulses I tend to be drawn to the sort of undergarments that promise to shave a cup and a half off by muzzling your dirty pillows in a tourniquet of reinforced steel and lace. I'm sure (I know) I've gotten the boob check before, but today was the most blatant fetishization I've experienced since a thirteen-year-old got all hot and bothered when I painted his face dressed as Moaning Myrtle a few years back. Something about me in glasses does it to them every time.

Note: The above story is a lot funnier when I use my hand as a puppet and make the pauses for breast viewing uncomfortably long.
Note: Because they were.

In Lieu of Content

2006-09-14T15:19:00.000-07:00

Take-Outs Take It All

2006-09-11T05:10:00.000-07:00

We won, bitches!

I got slammed around good and hard, but in a good way. My rewards for winning:

A very painful, but still barely visible bruise on my left thigh.

Getting to drink out of the giant gold Envy Cup.

Drinking a rollerita on an empty stomach and getting tipsier than planned (coupled with victory happy=goofy PD)

Signing Ziggy's butt!

There a million things I want to get better at before next season, but for now I'm going to take some time to enjoy the goodness of this season, especially getting to be a midseason replacement on the best of the best--The Take-Outs!

Umm...

2006-09-06T09:48:00.000-07:00

So I wrote a heart-wrenching blog about being aimless, but the computer was hungry and ate it for brunch. Instead here is picture of me and some of my team playing dodgeball. Try not to miss my sexy delicate footwork. I'm such a puss.

If I disintegrate...

2006-08-29T09:10:00.000-07:00

I may or may not, but there is a high likelihood that I will fall apart like a cracker in water in the next few days. Hopefully the trip home will curb it; if it doesn't, insert an iv of coffee into my remains--it's the only hope of resuscitation.

Take on me

2006-08-23T20:31:00.000-07:00

So the things I hate about the picture above are:

a) the fact that everything looks really slow. This pack in this bout was a titch slower than the last, but we were never at the standing still pace this photo implies.

b) my foot is totally out of bounds which means I shouldn't be laying into Polly Apocalypse like that.

c) the Ethel Merman arm. That is pure awkward April and does nothing to improve my check.

So the thing I love about the picture:

a) It implies that I just dumped Luna Chicken on the ground. I know I gave her a time, so it may be truth--but I honestly don't remember putting anyone down in this bout.

I just got back from North Carolina. My mom and stepdad and sisters live there. (Though "the manliest man ever" was on a two week fishing trip in Alaska, so I didn't get to chat with him at all) My sisters are considerably younger than me, so it's taken them forever to reach the scary grown-up stage. Both are now firmly entrenched in their teens, and I gotta say it's a little spooky to see the children being erased and new adults being sketched into the blankness. In some ways it's gratifying because my mom kinda gets that ALL teenagers are crabs now, but in other ways it's weird to think that they're not really my 'little' sisters anymore. I mean, Lauren graduates this year for jeepers sake. I find this heartbreaking because I know that my only parental inclination is the desire to have a wee little April to follow me around. Not a child of my own (ew), but ME at, say, five or six. Mostly because, although I am still repugnantly childlike, there are aspects of myself that I have lost in transition. I feel having myself as a pint-sized advisor would come in handy. As I see my girls going through similar transitions, I want to collect the castoffs of their child selves and save them up for when, eight years down the road, they want them back. I guess it doesn't really work that way though.
Did I mention that I drove? By myself? It's like an eight hour drive! I listened to Assassination Vacation on the way down and was totally enthralled. American History, Sarah Vowell, and guest vocal appearances by the likes of Brad Bird, Conan O'Brian, David Rakoff, etc... as presidential assassins and their respective marks was eight hundred per cent up my alley. On the way home I listened to J-Pod, the new Douglas Coupland novel. Less enthralled. The post-modern trick of listmaking really takes on a different feel when vocalized. The other bits were all right, but Vowell is a tough act to follow.
I have that darned feeling of being on the precipice of something. If I were in a movie, the camera would be gathering visual clues in crescendoing succession and everything would be tied up into one A-Ha! moment. I seriously doubt that anything more than flaccid self-hatred will develop out of this feeling in the real world, but if I am building to a eureka, I hope it's not the dodgeball tourney I'm participating in this weekend. That would be lame.

Some Mellowness Post-Battle

2006-08-15T06:23:00.000-07:00

It's funny to see those jammy legs try to walk!

I'm still sore two days post-bout and my brain is already swimming with thoughts of the next one. I need to prepare myself to play an entirely diffrent game in a month as our opponents are a little more rough and tumble. I'm pretty sure I can hack it, but we're down much of our jamming squad and that might hurt us come game day. Oh, if only I were faster!

A Little Elbow Grease

2006-08-09T21:45:00.000-07:00

Did you know that when you clean your house you feel like a better person? No. Really. Especially if this cleaning includes shelving some of your estranged library, whose pretty pretty spines have been hidden away in stinky cardboard boxes in the cellar. Suddenly your new home will feel like YOUR new home, especially if you can tilt your shoulder back and grab 'I Am Going to Be Small' or that weird book about mexican votive painting. And seriously if you just take ten minutes to suck up the rug crumbs that obstruct the pretty scrolly pattern of your area rug, you won't feel like such a dirty scuzzbag who should be swilling screwcap wine in some back alley with a guy named Joe Joe Jr instead of paying rent (not like I do that right now anyway, I am sort of a kept woman). If only I could manage to scrub in perpetuity like my cleanly parents, then I could feel swell all of the time instead of in large bursts of squeaky relief.

Stuff

2006-08-01T08:33:00.000-07:00

Yeah, so apparently I'm too boring to even come up with a whiny self-deprecating blog entry. I apologize for my absence, the words just haven't been there. In lieu of actually writing, I'm just going to make a list of things I like:

Skating
Sleeping (I've actually been able to the past week!)
Reading comic books
FLYING INTO ST LOUIS LABOR DAY WEEKEND!!!
Harrassing my husband for spending too much time creating EBay listings
Lipstick
Getting yelled at by chemically imbalanced patrons
Random job opportunities that will probably go nowhere but are weird and fun to consider
Tums
AND
Star Trek: The Next Generation

Wait... what?

Yup, I finally hunkered down to take in season one this last week. I mean I'm not about to start buying my own communicator pin or participating in certain auctions, but I have to say I'm kind of enjoying myself and since I am well informed that the first season isn't really so great in comparison to future seasons (post-Rodenberry-mortem) I think it might even end up be being a good show, and I'll know what certain friends are talking about when they get all nerdy and tangental.

I'm sinking deeper into geekville. Soon I'll be talking about shires and orcs, guh.

Clark Kent Syndrome

2006-07-21T15:16:00.000-07:00

So here's the thing, I spent Sunday night like a rock star signing friggin' autographs for the young and old. I was openly ogled more than once. I knocked girls to the ground and even instigated a bit of a 'thing' with Mama Roach by shouting, "Get off of her you bitch" and then flicking her off and winking when she gave me the stink eye. (Princess Disgrace is revealing herself to be a bit of an asshole)
But see, now I'm back to mild-mannered pseudo-librarian April. Today I realized that tone of our fans who gushed love to me (and my team) before the bout is actually a volunteer at our branch . Did she recognize me behind the glasses, sans pigtails, tiara, and skates? Nope. See, glasses really are a foolproof disguise! Oh, and when a nutty half-drunk lady started to yell at me about our computer reservation system, my only reaction was to turn and say, "I'm sorry you feel that way" while our security guard made a beeline for her. I don't know what it is about the derby track that makes me so hot-headed, or what it is about normal life that makes me even-keeled (at least when playing with others), but I have never felt the superhero dichotomy in such a personal way.
Next dose of the strong PD juice comes 8/13.
I'm already gagging for it.

Still Undefeated

2006-07-17T07:05:00.000-07:00

We won!

Game Day

2006-07-16T06:06:00.000-07:00

I had a drama instructor at one point who said butterflies were fine before a big show because while they seemed to be fluttering aimlessly when it came lights up they would start to fly in unison and carry me through the performance. Which honestly I thought was a load of hokey crap, but I'm banking on it now as it's game day (Win Day according to my cap'n) and I've got a touch of the jitters. Here's hoping I don't break anything!

I might be getting old.

2006-07-10T20:01:00.000-07:00

I had the beginnings of a sore throat at work today, so I slipped over to the convenience mart across the street to grab a highly carbonated soda, one of the only elixirs that can soothe my pain. Something like this exchange occurred between me and the guy at the counter:
"That all for you bebee?"
"Yup.'
"That'll be a dollar and some sort of change, bebee."
*struggles with crumpled bills then hands said bill awkwardly across the counter*
"Sorry."
"That's okay bebee. How old are you?"
"I'm twenty five"
"You look seventeen."
"Thanks?"
"This is very good for boyfriends, yeah? You have a boyfriend?"
"I'm married."
"This is very good for husbands and boyfriends."

After I had crossed back to the library, I realized that I might be old. That suddenly being seventeen is supposed to be some sort of compliment--that my face does not yet betray my haggard twenty-five years. Sure, sometimes I look a little young. Not in a hot barely legal way, more in a she can't put an outfit together to save her soul/her face still has the topography of a Campbell's soup kid sort of way; I don't tend even remember how old I am anymore (again, a sign of aging) until someone like Mr. Bebee brings it up. For youthfulness to be a compliment is still sort of jarring, since only a few years ago I wanted to fool bouncers into letting me into bars and managers into thinking I was mature enough to merit promotion. Weird.
The really disappointing thing is that all of this chatter meant I missed out on secretly observing the shirtless Doug from Ghost World wannabe. I'm not even sure if he was hungry enough to chew the crotch out of a rag doll. Sigh.

Return to the DHS

2006-07-10T03:29:00.000-07:00

I am drinking red wine out of a Dixie cup, hoping the astringency will melt the chicken fat off my lips. Akwete has gotten so tall in the last year. He is playing on the merry-go-round with the other young Hats, but he doesn't look like one of them anymore; he looks like an rambunctious uncle as he digs his heels into the tiny rocks, shoving the metal cage faster and faster until their baby faces are different shades of pink and green. He waves a long arm at me from across the park, then recommences spinning for the few survivors of the last whirlwind. The older Hats are playing horseshoes and sitting around sipping coke and beer awkwardly from cans. Passersby, such as the spandex clad speedwalkers who just shuttled past, take in our odd little group, their cocked eyebrows revealing their efforts to classify us, a multi-national group of young and old doing our best to eat fried chicken like your family might. I imagine they label us a church group or forget about us altogether once their sightline is directed at a different horizon by the winding path. They all keep scanning the sky with expectant glances and neglecting conversation in order to watch the road for a sudden upkick of dust.
Milo's supposed to be coming, the most impressive Hat of my generation and the heir to the founder of the Danger Hat Society, his great uncle Chet Whittier. Milo's a strapping young lad--the kind Martine makes the habit of secretly sticking used chewing gum to and ashing out cigarettes on. Sadly, she's home in Montreal caring for her sick parrot and so I am left alone to roll my eyes at the anticipated arrival.
"Do you know if there's any butter left?"
Fern Willoughby, a doddering excuse for an adventurer, stares up at me through her cataracts. I shrug my shoulders, and glance away. I am uncomfortable with the perils of aging, and the shiny scales that are staring up at me seem foghorn warning me of a nearing coastline of arthritic fingers and susceptible hip bones.
"Well, that blows," she says dropping an ear of corn to the ground like a used tissue.
This graceful statement distracts me from the herald a herald of Milo's anticipated arrival, the staccato sound of his motorbike cresting the least hill of the drive.
"He's here!" she squawks, and shuffles over to the main group of Hats whose voices have turned similarly birdlike.
"I hope he brought potato salad. And butter" I mumble. The slowly walk over to join the welcoming committee. After years of stories of his conquest, I expect Milo to be chiseled from Mayan gold. But from this distance, he looks rather slight and consumptive as he slides from the seat of his bike. He fusses a bit with a leather pouch at the rear, and then begins to walk toward his adoring public. I engage myself in the red gingham pattern if the vinyl tablecloth, playing hopscotch with my fingers. You should know, I become a mope in the presence of superiority. And now the old-timers are letting out some sort of Hip-Hip-Hurrah nonsense, which they've never done for me even though, even on a birthday, even though I restock their candy bars and chips and put pillows under their drooling heads when they pass out playing backgammon in the DHS Room. The sound of their pride swells with each step Milo takes towards them, building to a fervor I'm sure these folks haven't experienced since, well, I'm not so good with history, but I'm sure it involved a ticker tape parade. It would be rude to cover my ears, but I start to anyway so I can retreat to my brain where I am the strongest and most beautiful Hat to ever grace the Society. That's when I hear it, a low moan and a thud. When I turn around, Milo's face down in an extinguished barbecue pit and the Hats are swarming over him like the ants atop Fern's discarded corn.

Self-Portrait as an Insomniac

2006-07-10T01:47:00.000-07:00

So the month's current

Self-Portrait Challenge

is Self-portrait as... Which is just the sort of open-ended project that makes my brain stew. Sadly, the camera seems to be MIA for the time being, so this week it'll have to be one from the archives. Since it's now 4:48 am the sentiment is appropriate even if the image isn't timely. I still look pretty much the same, except for an overgrowth of bangs that would also qualify a current photo as: Self-portrait as a girl who needs a haircut.
I promise if we unearth the camera, I'll produce some of the fairy dust wackiness you know (and love?). Perhaps self-portrait as a toreador? a toilet seat? Richard Dreyfuss?
See? The possibilities are endless...

Re-sult!

2006-07-06T20:50:00.000-07:00

I finally feel like I'm getting better at the derby thing, all around. Mostly where I'm feeling it is endurance. I'm not the fastest, but I can give to the end. This is not to say I am anywhere near top tier, but it's nice to finally feel a sense of progress. My shoulder feels like it's about to pop off due to all the hits I took/gave tonight. Yum.
Not much to report otherwise. My house is a mess as usual. I'm still funked out career planning-wise (it's pretty much just a day to day thing at this point). I've dropped some lazy depression weight, so now I can stop freaking out about that. I have a constant running dialogue/story in my head, so sooner or later it's going to emerge like Athena from my brain--fully formed and perfect. Which sounds like sarcasm, except that seems to be my writing process. Struggle struggle struggle with the white paper, and then Kaboom! it all aligns itself.
I am missing my family. And Sarah Kate went and posted pics of J & D on her site so now I'm missing them too. I've marked time by the length of their hair for so long, it's weird to see such a tuft atop J's head. I feel as thought I've lost months. I'm also making friends, but of a pretty superficial nature. Which is fine, because it's easier and what I wanted, but I also sort of feel like I'm not working hard enough at the social thing. Like that's somehow a requirement of moving to a new city.
Sorry for the scattershot post, but now Green Wing is on, so no time to clean things up!

If you're feeling blue...

2006-06-27T09:30:00.000-07:00

I recommend a good hard skate with your new team. The endorphins will continue into the next day. Ahhhh.

Seething

2006-06-25T21:06:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry I'm not writing more often, but the days are slowly filling up and when I do have time I'm either spending it staring blankly into space or kneading at the giant welt that has started to grow on my brain. The only things I can ever think to write are sad sad April's sad blogs. And I really don't want to come off as a depressed person, or spend the rest of my life spreading my ill-mindedness to the rest of society. However, more than ever I find myself in an awkward place. I am moving forward and standing still, full of hope but rooted in a sense of failure. I guess the problem is I've orchestrated my life to a point where I don't really fit anywhere anymore and I no longer have the energy to shave the misshapen corners so I can edge in. I am having a hard time because I find myself surrounded by a lot of pre-existing conflicts, I'm not really hooked into these conflicts nor do I have a desire to be, but they still exist and I still feel the tiny shockwaves from their existence. I am not a super get in everybody's business kid of a girl. In fact I am exactly the opposite--I don't even like to be in my own business. The reason for this is small things often feel like large lesions to me. I can rationally solve and calm most conflicts, but I personally feel the pain of them for days months and weeks afterward, despite affecting a cool demeanor. To this day small mistakes or errors in judgment from when I was, you know, seven, creep in my ear. I know better than to let these thing terrorize me mentally, but I cannot avoid their impact on my heart. It's something I come by genetically. Anyway, so I'm feeling these rifts all around me and then I'm still dealing with my whole need for success thing. And honestly it's all just exhausting. I really want more than anything just to be funny and light--and I've even been trying that thing where you smile to make yourself feel better. But...
That said I am starting to rediscover comics as a release and relief. Recently I picked up Persepolis 2, which I had avoided because I loved/was moved by the first book so much, and had heard bleh reviews of the second. The second book picks up with Marjane in Austria trying to find her way as a foreigner without any immediate parental support. The complaints I had heard were that she just seemed so whiny compared to the first book--which she does, but this deals with her teenage years and early twenties, and if anything I KNOW that this is well tread ground for this age group (see: above paragraph). And while I felt that a new world was opened to me in the first book, I felt several were exposed in the second. A lot of autobiographical comics delve into the same subject matter--sexuality, drug use, etc. which I often enjoy voyeuristically but don't feel I gain much from. Here, there is motive and need. A young, well-educated girl from a barred off country is thrust into the midst of the Western world with little to no guidance. She bumps from idea to idea from group to group from experience to experience with only her wavering sense of right and wrong to lend her journey backbone. At times, yes, she seems horribly spoiled in her observations, but it is interesting to view the world through her lens. That said, my favorite bits are when she goes back Iran, because I appreciate the personalization of what, to me, is just an idea of a country. To meet the citizens of this world, especially in Sartrapi's accessible linework helps me feel more connected and more concerned about the fate of that nation. That, and her grandmother totally cracks me up.
Also on the docket was the fifth collection of Y: The Last Man, a book I started reading simply because I worked in a comic shop and it was impossible not to know about it. While the concept is fun, I've always found the execution a little over the top for my taste and the art sort of eh (again for my taste, it's just totally average for the fare), but it's got this certain charm about it that makes me continue with it. I think it's just that, like Vaughn's other book Runaways, it's just so damn readable that it seems a good way to pass some time. Like a particularly watchable soap opera or laugh-tracked proscenium arch sitcom. Not the height of the form, but enjoyable enough to accompany that cup of coffee.
Is anyone else here blessed with BBC America, and if you are do you find yourself staying up way to late to watch comedies like Little Britain, Green Wing, and the I've-been-waiting-to-watch-it-for-so-long-that-when-I-saw-the-advert-I-nearly-combusted-into-a-million-curly-flakes Spaced? Suckers, I have a dvr again so I can watch them at my leisure and avoid the comedy hangover the next day.

Rundown

2006-06-15T16:06:00.000-07:00

I've been training at the main library branch this week, which is good because I'm learning a lot--but is also crazy stressful for me because I haven't instantly memorized all of the computer commands. I really really hate not being good at things, especially when I feel like I'm being scrutinized which brings me to...

WFTDA testing. We've been doing WFTDA testing all this week at derby practice which is not great because a) it means I don't really get in the he exercise I'd like to and b) I stress out because people are making marks about me. I think I've done well so far, and actually it doesn't really count toward anything, it's just a general review of skills that need to be improved over all, but I still get cranky that I'm not perfect (for example I two foot jumped over a pathetic little broom instead of a giant barrier thingy because I was afraid of breaking my butt--which one of the skaters actually did). Tonight is some of the more difficult stuff like speed and checking, but I'm not all that worried about these either except that once I become the focal point my stomach will once again go all goofy.
I'm really glad to have my team, because I feel much more a part of everything--I got headshots taken on Tues, have shirts for my uniform, etc. And I can get really nervous about bouting the Bullies on July 16th (they are only 1-2, but I think they are far more badass than their record shows)

Tomorrow we move into our townhouse in the GV, I'm excited and a little nervous that our furniture won't fit as we are losing a lot of square footage in the name of adorable.

Also I've been neglecting the blog because of our new (I say our, really it's Ryan's) DS Lite which is honestly better than a baby or pet. Mostly we play these tests that are full of brain agility puzzles, which I find bizarrely entertaining--and even more entertaining to compete against Ryan at. I've always thought he was quite a bit smarter than me, so it's fun to know I'm better at some things like memorization, etc.

This library thing is going to save me tons of money (and space!), as I can request just about anything and have it delivered to work. I don't know why the concept of free never sunk into my repetoire before this, as I have spent my fortune on books.

I'm still trying to decide what to study/do with my life. I'm starting to think a degree in education may be advantageous--but I am still drawn to the idea of art school (even after seeing Art School Confidential) or studying culture and history. I wish I lived in one of those Iron Curtain countries that assigned positions, because while I appreciate my freedom of thought/choice/whatever--it's really the primary source of weird stress in my life. Sigh.

Um, I deliver?!

2006-06-06T21:25:00.000-07:00

I found out tonight that I am officially a Take-Out, the semi-ninja themed team of OHRG. It's a mixed blessing, as they just became the only undefeated team (and crowd favorite) in the league on Sunday. Their skills are deep, and I'm a little worried I won't get play time (or screw things up if I do), but I think their style of play is similar to how I want to play: clean, hard, and fast. Plus I get to wear red, which is hot. I've wanted to be on a team all this time, and it's fun to know where I belong, but in some ways it closes three other doors, and three other envisioned derby lives with three other teams. I'd feel this way no matter what: happy as hell, but still a little let down. Silly. S'okay I've got a long way to go before I'm something to scream about, and I think I landed on a team with a lot of skaters I can learn from, so hurrah! Also it's the team I orignally loved the idea of of, hurrah! Hurrah, hurrah, I'm awesome.

Answers

2006-06-02T20:36:00.000-07:00

1 Ryan and I say, "I hate them" whenever we see this delectable dessert...
ANSWER: c) Cream Puff

Apparently not enough of you have seen one of the finest films to ever be, um, filmed. The Impostors featuring Stanley Tucci and the always delicious Oliver Platt features a scene in which Mr. Platt shoves an entire puff in his mouth and says the epic line, "I hate them." Seriously this is a fantastic movie, especially if you enjoy broad shipboard farce featuring a variety of swell actors including Campbell Scott, Hope Davis, Lili Taylor, Allison Janney, etc...

2) Prior to derby, what sport did I schedule my life around?
ANSWER: a) Swimming

Yup, I was good too. After coming home in tears from my first practice because I sucked so much, I persisted and became one of the better swimmers in my age group in the region. But after a few false starts (not literally) I finally quit after my sophomore year of high school mostly because it conflicted with the National Forensics League (geek).

3) My Grandma Doris and I both favor the same mixed drink. Which is it?
ANSWER: b) Manhattan

Whiskey and vermouth with a cherry garnish makes me an incredibly lovely girl. Apparently it had the same effect on my grandma in her heyday. Love the whiskey and soda too, but mostly because Manhattans are just too costly too drink on a regular basis (upwards of $7 to have it made with the right booze).

4) I met my husband in which high school course...
ANSWER: c) Honors World History

It was actually a sophomore class but Ryan had transferred in having taken the government course scheduled for junior year, therefore he had to pick up the WH requirement with the young'ns. We spent many lunch periods together outside the class because we were both transfers and barely knew anyone. Swoon.

5) Which esteemed profession have I NOT portrayed on stage...
ANSWER: d) prostitute

I have never played a lady of the night despite their prevalence in stage plays. Both the telephone operator and reporter were encompassed in my auspicious role as F2 in 'Machinal,' and I played a waitress the year before in 'Fun.'

6) If I could turn into any of the characters I've dressed up as for Halloween I would select...
ANSWER: d) Suzanne Pleshette in the Birds

Slim pickens for the good life among my 10/31 alter egos. I know she gets pecked to death by birds, but if I could look and sound like her even for an hour I think I'd embrace that fate. Rawr.

7) Right now, at this very minute, my mouth tastes like...
ANSWER: c) coffee

Whiskey often a good bet, but almost every night Ryan and I take a stroll to Cup O Joes to get a giant Rice Krispy treat and caffeine. He still passes out around 11, whereas I seem to be drug into the wee hours of the morning by my intake. But I just can't say no.

8) On a scale of entertaining I rank myself at...
ANSWER: c) Christopher Guest movie

I think this may have been one of the trickier questions. My enormously low self-esteem might have led even me to believe that I am no more entertaining than the snoozefest of a golf video game. However, while I assume most consider me dull as dry toast, I find myself to be vastly amusing. However I do not reach the Silverman level as I'm not 'edgy' or 'sadistic' nor do I have one of the best voices ever, so I have to settle with being weird and random like the Six-Fingered Man's mockumentaries.

Para Kristophe

2006-05-31T19:05:00.000-07:00

Missed Connections

2006-05-30T05:10:00.000-07:00

I am obscenely drawn to personals, with their strange alphabet filing systems. I like the whole 'I'm holding and B, an M, and a N/S, what have you got to make my hand stronger?' structure. Of course, my favorites are the missed connections, and the most satisfying missed connections are on Craigslist. Because there is no need for newspaperlike word-economy, writers etch in even more of the story, using specifics like "You were eating pie" or "I think I would be good for you" or at least sparing a few extra T's to demonstrate that she thought you were really really hotttttt. The most perverse thing about the ads is that you get very specific locations, for example the Target at Elm and Watts in the dishsoap aisle. Because Craigslist is organized by city, I can click on St. Louis or Columbus and search for places I recognize. Yesterday as I was perusing I noticed one that said something like Katzinger's, Sunday at 2. I was at Katzinger's only hours before! Had we just delayed our meal a few hours I might have spotted a "connection" in real life! It was with this entry that I realized my mission, as vague and impossible as it is... I HAVE to be on location for one of these. A fly on the wall of one person's obsession, to witness the spark that buries him in a pile of silky hair or chokes her with a pair of black eyeglasses. I find this sort of attraction so far removed from my realm of experience that I have to see it for myself. Is there some magnetism between two strangers that is inexplcible, or is it merely a game of wanting what you can't ever have again--a moment in which you saw a certain future happiness for yourself through the lens of another? I have the feeling the answer is yes, and yes, and an extra yes for causes I have neglected to mention. All I know is that I want to witness it for myself, just once. So I know.

NEW LOOK PENDING

2006-05-27T19:11:00.000-07:00

I got very tired of the primary color scheme of my former template, this obnoxious starry thing is subbing in until I can figure out what I want to do. Sorry for the flux!

Inspired by the SK8

2006-05-26T18:15:00.000-07:00

I tried to resist it. I did, but I'm so in love with myself I couldn't not TEST YOU ALL...

On and on

2006-05-23T10:13:00.000-07:00

So I was waiting outside Cup O' Joes for Ryan (I still had a cup from my favorite deli, Katzy's), two sparrows were attacking each other. I've been witness to all sorts of animal violence before, but something struck me about these two bitty little birds chomping down on each other, duking it out on the sidewalk in front of the Book Loft. Of course, I wanted to etch in an entire backstory for the tusslers--complete with generations of abuse and sibling rivalry, a few cracked eggs due to...I don't know what because what it comes down to is they're birds and thus are instinctual and it doesn't really matter what they were fighting over because at some point it just becomes fighting for fighting's sake.
I know that those who have this natural fury have to struggle with its aftermath. But in so many ways I envy those who scrap, who feel something so much it can only be released through a torrent of action. I've always been so level-headed, so hands folded neatly in lap about any disturbance that I often feel I haven't lived fully. I think this is why I do derby. And I think this is why I'm always trying to instigate 'wrasslin'' with my pacifist husband (when I do engage him, it's over in a matter of seconds, he could crack me like a pinata). I spend so much time in my head finding rational explanations and approaching situations with plans of action instead of fists of fury that sometimes it feels good to just get knocked down, to not have time to use anything but instinct. I spent my entire childhood with a peace sign carved into my hand, playing mediator to everyone and flinching at the smallest act of violence. But now, as when I see two birds pecking at each other or even a derby girl get a little too worked up, I watch with curiosity and respect for a drive I probably will never know.

I cannot wait to move out of our temp housing. It's very nice with many amenities Free coffee! 24-hr gym! but as we live in OSU territory, there are several students/new grads living here. I never had the dorm experience, I never really wanted the dorm experience, and if I have to see/hear one more group doting over their a shot away from alcohol-poisoning friend, I might just disprove the above paragraph. Especially if it's at three in the morning. Learn how to hold your liquor and learn how to walk away from a bar on your own two feet. I lived behind a bar for a year in St. Louis (near a University too) and I have never seen so many people so limp with drink. The end. Tossing out the soapbox now.

Some Stuff

2006-05-18T20:34:00.000-07:00

So I had my first real derby scrimmage with the team tonight. I love love love it, but well I'm less than good. It's hard for me because my strongest athletic feats have always been races which are pretty much balls out without a lot of thinking. Derby brings the brain into it, and suddenly I need to be timing hits, helping my jammer (read; scorer) through the pack while keeping an eye out for the other team's jammer all while taking abuse from the girl next to me. It's hard as fuck. I actually think I'm going to end up being pretty good because I can definitely take a hit (less solid on the making hits), I'm able to pick up speed and get in front of jammers, and in general I feel like I'm already a lot more calculating than some of the other players. In some ways that slowed me down tonight, but I'm going to keep my brain in it until those kind of decisions are ingrained. I got to jam, which honestly I love because you have so much more control over what's going on, but I'm still too slow. My speed is picking up again, but the new team is faster than ARRG (at least when I left) so I still have a way to go. Basically I want to be good at every position, which means I have to get a lot a lot a lot better than I am now.
Also I officially nabbed the library position. I start Tuesday. But that's less exciting than derby.

Librarian April?

2006-05-10T12:08:00.000-07:00

I might finally be fulfilling my destiny of working in an official library. I had my interview with the mega-library here in town for a position at one of their branches (close to our soon to be townhome) which went so well I got shipped over to that branch for an interview with the the head librarian there. I think it went well (in general if I can land the interview, I can land the job). I've had my interview outfit picked out for a month now, but when I put it on today it looked really frumpy and ill-fitted. The only thing that did look right was my maroon librarian-esque dress that sort of makes me look like a parody (albeit a chaste one) of a naughty librarian (more like the librarian who might play roller derby to AC/DC vs. the librarian who might pole dance). Needless to say I wore my glasses and worked the look.
The branch I interviewed at was tiny tiny, but I think I could be successful there. I'd really like to work at the main branch eventually though because it is a Carnegie builing and therefore chock full of gorgeous marble staircases. And I could pretend the basement stacks were haunted with snot covered card catalogues and a three quarter full-bodied apparition.
When asked why I wanted to work in the library I said it was because I felt well-suited for the work, but my answer should have been, "I watched Party Girl a lot."
Awkward silence.
"I mean, A LOT."
Christ I'm as bad as my husband. `cept I don't collect replicas, I just make my life a replica. Who's crazier? I'll never tell.
Speaking of husbands, he finally posted a new blog. You should go read it. He's actually happy!

Nothing Ever Happens in Blaine

2006-05-08T20:31:00.001-07:00

I think I could make this a very exciting blogsite, but to do that I would have to lie to you. I've been waved away from lying as supposed truth by Annie Dillard (maybe it's Anne Lamott, or maybe Anne Lamott writing about Annie Dillard, fuck if I can keep it straight) and a few personal essay teachers. Apparently lying can make for a fetching story, but if your readership finds out they become deflated/feel betrayed/want to kill you (see: James Frey--still a great book in my opinion, but I live my life believing that everyone is falsifying their existence to amuse me). See I try to punch things up sentence-wise, but it all comes out boring-boring and with the punched up sentences, somewhat indecipherable. Bleh. The fact of the matter is, I want to blog because I'm bored--but there's nothing to blog about because I am boring.
For example, a list of things I did today:
Ate the last donut for breakfast
Drove around Columbus
Watched the last episode of Angel (finally)
Made a mini-pizza
Ate a mini-pizza (the very one I had just baked)
Pretended to do floor exercises (I never know what the hell I'm doing)
Caught up on celebrity exploits/fashions on the Internet (less maddening than keeping up with political exploits)
Made coffee
Drank coffee
Surfed the Internet
Watched the Gilmore Girls
Watched Golden Girls
Pretended to do more floor exercises (slightly more successful)
Made pasta
Ate pasta
Walked with Ryan to Kroger
Walked back from Kroger
Ate ice cream
Watched American Dad (not the biggest fan, though admittedly I laugh at some stuff)
Went to gym
Did gym things longer than normal because Futurama came on in the middle and I had to finish out the episode
Took shower
Surfed Internet
Started to 'blog'
Um, yeah...

I know most blogs are just the random snot of boring people such as myself, but Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it'd be nice if I could find interest in something other than myself long enough to wax philosophical about. Feel free to suggest a topic or seven, if I know nothing about it I can use Wikipedia and form a half-assed opinion.

It's Princess Disgrace, by the way...#31. And I'm still verrry slow and out of shape.

And what just might be the ONE courtesy Hedda Crusher

2006-05-01T16:52:00.000-07:00

Princess Disgrace

New Contender Courtesy Yi

2006-05-01T13:10:00.000-07:00

Baberham Lincoln

(I'm in love with it)

Stepping-Up The Name Search

2006-05-01T04:52:00.000-07:00

My new team leans heavily on skate names so her's some of the ones I'm thinking (yeah I know most of these are old hat):

Powder Keg
Quatro
Twitch Firebird
Tippy Trackburn
the Arsenal
and because Ryan's so proud of them::
Killow Rosenberg
Breathless Maulhoney (I love that he came up with something for this, but I think Breathless is a little too apt to be a negative considering the shape of my lungs)

I'll keep listing `em until I find THE one

I am lazy

2006-04-30T21:22:00.000-07:00

I knew that already, but it was revealed without a doubt tonight at my first OHRG practice. This last month has been full of nothin' but me sittin on my butt feeling sorry for myself. I am sooo of out of derby shape it's embarrassing. Certainly there are excuses for poor performance: it was hot as hell, I hadn't been in pads in awhile, etc. But honestly I'm just once again out of shape, and need to double time it so I don't completely embarrass myself in front of everyone. Oh, and I was afraid my new coaches wouldn't work it as hard as Ken, Bullshit. They keep it going.
Anyway, I feel great despite the mediocre showing. I'm gonna step it up so I can feel even better.

Things That May Redeem Columbus

2006-04-29T17:35:00.000-07:00

The German Village

Natalie Dee lives here (thanks Eva Lasting Jawbreaker)

SPACE

Katzingers is YUMMY

The Ohio Rollergirls
(very supportive despite my current passive/passive attitude)

The Guinness tastes eight times better here, I promise.

Why, Look, It's Another SPT

2006-04-24T20:59:00.000-07:00

We can't find the cable that connects the camera to the computer so there are no current self-portraits to post. Instead I'm giving you to glimpses into the April of yore, which aren't technically self-portraits. But you just wanted to see my crazy mug right?

Nostalgia and sass at the base of the Arch:

Me with a fish: