New Kicks

OK, so I bought rather a lot of new shoes this weekend. Here are pictures of three pairs that I bought (the others were a pair of slippers, some pink sparkly flats, and a pair of thong sandals). And if you're wondering whether it's hard to take pictures of shoes in my little apartment with very little floor space, and not-so-great photo lighting, the answer is yes.
The baby blue heels have a line of blue stones down the t-strap, by the way. In case you needed to think they're any more awesome.
I have pretty nice legs, but I do wish they weren't quite so white. I'm becoming more Irish by the second.

Bag Lady

This weekend, I admit it, I got a little carried away with the shopping. I've behaved myself reasonably since Chicago, so I guess I was maybe due, and I finally found some spring/summer clothes and shoes I actually like. I also got an outrageous backache; I haven't worked retail in a while, and I'd forgotten how exhausting it is to walk around a store all day.
I also had the saddest little experience at Kohl's (that's right, my Kohl's virginity has ended). I was looking at clearance shoes and found a cute pair of brown tennis shoes like my black ones, but with a muted stripe. They were pretty kicky, and I tried on the 7s, knowing they wouldn't fit my longer left foot. I hunted the whole section and found one size 6 shoe and one 7.5 That's right, one 7.5...it fit my left foot exactly. I walked around with that shoe for about twenty minutes looking in the whole department for its mate. I never found it. I was so sad to abandon that shoe, not just for myself because I liked it, but because what a lonely existence that is; one shoe, supposed to be a pair and not. The lady who was working sort of glanced around, but seemed utterly engrossed in whatever she was doing and sure as heck didn't volunteer to help me.
I'm hoping on that shoe's behalf that its mate is just back in the stock room somewhere and that it will be found soon by a more conscientious soul. In any case, its status as a lonely and, therefore, somewhat purposeless object cut me kind of deep.
To make myself feel better, I bought a Kitchen 101 Breakfast set at Linens n' Things. It comes with a cast iron griddle, egg poacher, egg rings, and various other breakfast tools. I'm sort of thrilled about it.

"How could she be such a cipher?"

I just wrote a bit in my myspace blog about the book Mirror Mirror by Gregory Maguire. It is by far, so far, my favorite in his set. It's reaching me in odd ways with the language and through Biana, the girl chracter. I have a lot of page corners turned down of things I want to go back over and ponder. The most recent of these is about Lucrezia Borgia's shock in seeing Bianca in the magic mirror and trying to define her expression, and why it bothered her so: "Or perhaps it was that she seemed like one who didn't worry about what it meant never to be enough" (190). The quote in the title is from Bianca's own musings, page 160. These two characters are fascinating in the relationship created, and their growth and change in mentality happening alongside each other.
This book is knocking me on my butt. I haven't been emotionally and mentally touched by a book for a while (more time than is proper for someone who is interested in literature, anyway), and so I'm really grateful that I now have the time this weekend to puzzle my way through it and take my time finishing it. It's actually so good that I wish I weren't quite so far through it. I only have about seventy pages left.
I don't feel well today. My hip is getting better, I think, but my neck and back ache and my throat is scratchy. I am hoping it's just allergies getting out of hand and that I'm not bound for anything worse. I'm going to try to sleep a lot this weekend to knock it out of me.

Plague

Creepy news of the day:
Disease finally diagnosed on House (after a particularly disgusting and disturbing list of tests, which should have merited a parental discretion warning) last night? Bubonic plague.
Disease found in woman in LA? Bubonic plague.

I Broke Myself

I went jogging on Sunday, and yesterday kept getting sharp pain in my hip. By the end of the day, as I was riding home in the car, I could feel my hip throbbing in a most unpleasant fashion. It seems better today, but still goes wonky when I'm walking.
In an effort to make it feel more happy, I took a bath with this:
Bunny I Washed the Kids
which was lovely and made me smell like candy.

Recently, though, I had the most amazing bath with the Ginger Bomb, and the Something Wicked This Way Comes, which in my version was purplish with glitter. I was a little skeptical of the Ginger scent at first, before it hit the bath, but I really like it, and it suited me. These two products together combine ginger, jasmine, some other flower scents, and moisturizing power, which my skin desperately needs. It was delicious.

In other news, I intend to buy this dress as soon as possible, and I am mildly obsessed with Sarah Harmer, namely the You Were Here album, which I also intend to buy as soon as possible.

Monday Mash

Before I begin, let me just thank those who reported the time of last week's thunderstorm. 6:30 ish am sounds about right for me to be delirious with sleep but able to be tensely awakened.
So today I woke up and said, darn it, I am going to have a decent day if it kills me. Then I locked my keys in my house.
It's okay, though, my landlady is nice and came out right away to help me out. It was just sort of a d'oh! moment that passed. The good news is, Chily's had tomato soup with tortellini, which is pretty much the best soup, and I have no conferences today. In a little bit I'm actually going to do some work so that I have less to do tonight after teaching. Or, maybe I'll work on some poetry stuff, just for a break. Wouldn't that be exciting?
Easter has come and gone; I had a lovely Easter basket from the Easter bunny, and I went to church here in BG and heard the Hallelujah Chorus. In fact, I have it on my media player, and I might listen to it again for kicks. It was kind of a lonely day, but really it's my own fault for not going home. Holidays are really designed around us spending time with others, but in some ways solitude is the way to think about what the holiday actually is, especially Easter because basically it and Christmas are the foundation of the Christian faith.
Anyway. I'm kind of confused lately. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels, and maybe trying too hard to find a direction. I don't know what's going on with me. I can't seem to settle to anything, and it's sort of like the mean reds are back. I can't remember what I like. Or what I think I like doesn't seem to be working. The last really great things I remember are getting a strawberry milkshake with my friend Pat, at Tasty Twist in East Lansing, and going to LUSH in Chicago. That was kind of a while ago. Probably some other good stuff has happened, but I've been so distracted I have no idea.
I have a couple of wee plans to help out; for instance, the sandals I wore to church on Sunday are actually broken, so I need to get some new shoes (in addition to the springy ones I want to buy when I find them). I also discovered a truly delicious coffee ice cream drink at Smoovies downtown, and plan to get some more of that as soon as possible. Hopefully the sunshine will sort of whack me out of this, too, and your little Avacious will perk up a bit. I feel like the straggly plants on my porch; overextended, frostbitten, and all over the place.
On a related note, I am sunburnt. I went to BG baseball games this weekend, and Saturday was quite warm and sunny. I had SPF on my face, but my neck and the backs of my arms, and also some obscure place on my leg, are a little rosy. Ah, April. The month whose sun I forget, and therefore the sun that gets me the most.

78 degrees and counting

Today, I am wearing my bright yellow Madagascar soccer '86 T-shirt. I also am wearing my Keen amphibious sneakers, no socks.
What this means: Nearly 80 degrees today, and I am living the dream.
I also learned today that I am afraid of storms even when asleep. I woke up this morning to a thunderstorm, and was sweating. Somehow, I prevented myself from waking up fully, because I only have a complete memory of some thunder and a few lightning flashes, and nothing that I was thinking at that time. I have no idea what time it was.
It's 2 pm and I can't wait until conferences are over for the day so I can go play out by the pond for a little bit.

I don't think I am doing my tv report this week, at least not at length. I didn't watch all of ANTM, just the last bit, and Ghosthunters and Top Chef were both sort of just there. Gilmore Girls on Tuesday was fun, but the previews are deceptive. I recorded Supernatural last night and haven't watched it yet. Basically, all is tension in me and TV isn't doing its job.

Chimps will rule the world.

Happy Birthday, Cheeta, star of Tarzan films. Your longevity as a primate at age 74 is an inspiration to us all.

Quickies

If you're wondering whether I just ate a piece of cold fried chicken, the answer is yes. It's sunny (sort of) and warm, and darn it, it's cold fried chicken weather.

If you're further wondering whether I'm doing my taxes tonight, the answer is also yes.

In addition, if you're wondering whether I had an argument with Freud in my head that his theory is bunk, and that the impulse of life is not sex but death, and no, they're not related, they are nearly opposites, in that sex is striving for ascension without death, despite what the French say, but that development involves a growing consciousness of self, of life away from and then back toward death, and thus our growing understanding of death shapes our behavior more irrevocably than something that we *could* avoid, such as sex, and that, really, it is ethically inappropriate to devise a theory from which you are mysteriously immune or "enlightened" and that the social pariah that is womanhood gets the short end of the stick, then that answer, surprise surprise, is also yes. In the shower.

Mix tapes, how I love thee.

In an effort to rekindle some attitude, ie. something I can use to kick ass in the next three weeks rather than feeling down in the dumps, I have rediscovered the mix tapes of my high school life, and a bit of college, taped from the radio and used in various dance and angst-related settings. These were times when, no matter how crappy everything was, I never gave up and I never wilted for longer than a week. I pretty much rocked everything I had to do, and I had recognized escapes that would make me feel better or at least get me out of harm's way (like the dance studio, or the extra garage my parents have). It's not like I had less emotion then, but I had more ways to get out of it and enough that I wanted to do that I always had a way to distract myself.
Some songs I have rediscovered via these mix tapes (which are lettered and which, somewhere, have lists of their contents corresponding to these letters...obsessive much?):

Nine Inch Nails "The Perfect Drug" ("...I see the truth, when I'm all stupid-eyed. The arrow goes straight to my heart...without you, everything just falls apart." How awesome is that for angst-ridden youth?)
Poe "Angry Johnny" and "Hello" (an album which I will be buying, today if possible)
Squirrel Nut Zippers "Hell"
dance mix of Soul Coughing "Super Bon Bon" (which makes much more sense at dance speed)
Garbage "Stupid Girl"
Salt n' Pepa w/ En Vogue "Whatta Man"

...and so many more.
I took mix tapes very seriously, like anyone else would, but unlike my peers I jumped on the CD bandwagon pretty late, so I have more recent songs than most people on their tapes. Fortunately, my car and my apartment have tape players. I am remembering so much of my past more accuately than I usually do (which is usually accute enough, actually).
It's occured to me often that my big thing is memory. I have an obsessive memory and my mind works very hard to commit things to memory, which is very exhausting. I forget stuff, but events, conversations, and people I know stay incredibly fresh in my brain. The emotional resonance of things, especially bad stuff, stays fresh longer than most people. That's why I heart Deanna Troi on Star Trek. I'm not really empathic, I suppose, but I feel her pain. I understand, even if I don't know exactly, what it's like to be surrounded by so much of people's emotional energy. Sometimes it makes it hard to deal with your own.
Anyway...all this from mix tapes. I love 'em.

In other news, I'm tired, and I have a giant load of grading to do. I am compensating by making plans for myself when the work is done, or for my little breaks between piles (aside from doing my taxes, of course). I plan to rent a video game system and spend at least three days playing some version of Zelda. I plan to work on my children's book. I plan to work on my modeling skills for no other reason but fun. I also am planning the layout and furniture of my "extra" apartment/office for next year. I'm not eager for that year to arrive, because I need to do some serious chilling out before then, but sometimes the planning is more fun than the having anyway.
OK, that's all. I'm giving Meijer a second chance on Dr. Pepper...Angel's fridge is looking a little bare.

Color me disgusted

Oh, please, ANTM.
Point the first: Ridiculous "shocking collapse" ad last week for this week's Top Model. I do not agree with misleading advertisement or previews based on trickery. I did not appreciate that at all.
Point the second: Stupid pranks like that are how people get hurt. You can claim "it was a joke" and give people t-shirts all you want, Miss Tyra Banks, but D minus on empathy. Thank goodness poor Furonda came back and rocked the week's activities, because that was just a cruel, stupid joke. Poor form.
To summarize, I did not enjoy this week's ANTM, and getting rid of Mollie Sue made me ANGRY. She has been my favorite because I feel like I can relate to her, and now I got nothing.

Didn't watch much of Lost. Watched Ghosthunters instead (it's not too scary this week, Paul), and then Top Chef. I was sad to see Lisa go, but not at all sad to see Tiffani and Dave win. They did a great job selling, and their sandwich looked really delicious. I liked Harold's integrity and sadness at Lisa's departure. Also loved the junk food challenge between Dave and Miguel.

Supernatural is on tonight...I know I shouldn't be watching this much TV, I really do. But my brain has been so busy and worried and overworked this last month or two, and I've just had it. I can make it, I know I can, but there's so much to be done before I get to summer, but summer always means goodbyes, and I hate that, too. I feel, like Bilbo, like butter spread over too much bread. So if I suddenly snarl and turn into an ogre...sorry.

First House-Related Post Ever

So, a little-known fact about me grading is that, as I get to the bottom of the pile, it becomes harder and harder to finish, because I know I have a giant pile of other papers to do that I'll have to begin as soon as that pile is done.
So, I watch TV.
Last night, after Gilmore Girls, House was on, and, while I do not often watch this show, I do enjoy it a great deal, and really should watch it more. Who can resist Hugh Laurie, the bumbling Bertie Wooster of, for me,Wodehouse-on-PBS fame, as a cantakerous doctor who will do what he needs to do to find the answer and be right, no matter what the cost, speaking with a better American accent than I do? I, for one, also cannot resist his friendship with the dreamy Robert Sean Leonard. He was lovely in Dead Poet's Society, Swing Kids, and Much Ado About Nothing, but I actually adore him as a more stoic divorced man in his late thirties.
Favorite line of the evening? Dr. House saying, "Oh, snap!" Utterly ridiculous, and therefore, hilarious.
Tonight, big TV lineup...ANTM, Ghosthunters, Lost, Top Chef, John Edward. It's going to be a hot one.

Hittin' the Sauce

I love applesauce; natural style, no cinnamon. Just applesauce. It's making my lunch delicious.
Yes, today my mood is quietly better. There's food in the house, and clean laundry, which has yet to be put away, but which is there nonetheless. There is simply nothing better. I don't think people realize how demoralizing it is to eat junk on the go, or to have to forage in one's own cupboards for nutrients, or in one's sock drawer for something to cover chilly feet. But when you have fresh food, it makes all the difference. You feel like a real person, someone worthy of the world, and grateful for being able to just eat what God puts down here. That's not a support for organics, just a support for produce in general.
Last night, for a late dinner, I had:
Milk, and a sort of Mediterranean devotional plate. It had grapes; olives; cherry tomatoes; Italian bread with honey, drizzled olive oil, fresh basil, and cracked black pepper (It's good. I know it sounds weird); and fresh, soft hunks of mozzarella, Italian style. So utterly delicious, and it was amazing to have milk in the house again. I had two full glasses, the first with dinner and the second with dessert, which was a few pieces of a chocolate bar with ginger pieces stuck in.
I feel like a human being.

Oh...and in case you were wondering what *that* much LUSH stuff looks like:

I Heart Church Music

Ordinarily I don't respond well to contemporary Christian music; it's like some poetry that is probably good poetry but just has no resonance for me. There's no rhyme or reason to this response, I just don't seem to get into it. Much like romantic comedies.
Today, though, was an exception...the offertory was a father and son with guitars, singing "Nothing But the Blood." It didn't capture me at first, but then they started a really beautiful harmony section, and they were both really getting into it with the guitars and the singing, especially the son (couldn't really see the father from where I was sitting). It brought tears to my eyes, because they were both showing a neat devotion at both the music and religious level. I came away from it really happy I'd heard the song.

Cosmic joke

weird-out #1: Meijer out of Dr. Pepper
weird-out #2: "Out of the Blue" playing on Meijer radio while I am in tears without my soda
that is all.

Some bits of TV junk

I was forcibly reminded last night how much Gwyneth Paltrow looks like her mother, Blythe Danner. It was a little scary, actually. I was watching M*A*S*H and Danner was in that episode, and while she has some different mannerisms--a slightly nervous way of holding and shaking her head, a difference of her vocal delivery--the two look nearly identical. Their faces are so similar. I never noticed before, actually, only familiar with how Danner looks now in such things as the X-Files. She has a lovely natural look to her, but it's still quite different. But then, when they were the same age...frightening.
I was watching Cross Country with John Edward, and there was a mother there hearing from her son. Her eyes were utterly amazing. They were the most vivid blue, and while she had them outlined, her lashes seemed naturally dark. When she was crying, I had to cry, too. The eyes were so young and so hurt.