I’m big on touching things, feeling things. I’m a sucker for nice textures. I’m the girl you see in the stores that, more often than not, reaches out to rub any shirt or pillow or stuffed animal that looks particularly soft and fuzzy. I also like the non-sticky, squishy gel feeling. For example, the shoe inserts that sometimes have blue gel parts to them – I have to feel those if I’m near them. Well, I don’t have to, but I really like to. You know those window clingers that look like thin jello? I love those, as in I love to play with them. I practically fantasize about eating those things (in a non-sexual way). Go ahead and put them up on your window, but expect my fingerprints to show up.

This brings me to my issues with gel candles. Those things are awesome and evil! Torn between preserving their beauty and wanting to squish them until I’ve ruined them… I could say more but I won’t, if only just to preserve the appearance of sanity. Plus, I just edited someone’s proposal for a medical experiment, so I’m a little low on writing steam at the moment.

Yesterday, I was on my way from one place to another, as people often are when they are traveling from point A to point B. Or B to C, or Z. Whatever. I had one of those fancy shmancy coffees from a local coffee shop with me. Me being who I am, I managed to break the cup and spill the coffee down the side of my car, splashing a bit onto my jeans and my probably not washable mittens. It happens, and should not surprise any that know me somewhat well.

There were a few guys getting into a nearby car. They looked vaguely familiar, likely because they probably graduated a year or two ahead of me from my high school. Anyway, they each said to me in turn, “Oh, that sucks,” or “Man, that sucks,” or “That really sucks,” or some variant thereof involving “that” and “sucks.” This is acceptable. Then, one of them says, “If that happened to me, I would kill someone.”

K bye.

I don’t cry over spilled milk. I also don’t cry over spilled coffee. Best yet, I don’t kill over spilled beverages of any sort.

Mary: Give it here. What are you using that for?

Bob: I’m using it on the Teflon pans.

Mary: You are not! You can’t use that on the Teflon!

Bob: Teflon is not god!

Mary: On the website, it said that it is.

Bob: God is dead!

Mary: No! Liar! How dare you talk that way about Teflon? Teflon is god! The website said so!

Bob: The website is lying to you. Teflon is not god, because god is dead…then again, perhaps I am wrong. Teflon is not alive, therefore it might be god. My apologies.

Mary: Oh…okay.

End scene.

(Four and a half lines of that dialogue actually happened (with different names) and caused my nervous laughter. The rest, I took liberties with and to no purpose.)

Months back, I did a speech at a school function in front of a few hundred people. Afterward, I had people coming up to me and complimenting me on it, via saying how it made them cry, asking for a copy (to share with a class, in a professor’s case and to do who-knows-what with in others’ cases), or via a more traditional compliment. I was very proud that I’d made such an impression on all of those people, but looking back on it now, I can’t help but think that I should have listened closer to my own words. That speech was one of those (in my opinion) cheesy, carpe diem things. Others seemed to like it (and that stroked my ego well enough), but I wasn’t fully satisfied with it. Regardless, I don’t think that I’ve “seized the day.” Sure, I’ve seized some days, but all? No, certainly not.

I just watched the movie Blood Diamond with my parents. I am shaken and internally shaking. Blood ivory, blood oil, blood diamonds… “T.I.A.” they say in the movie, meaning “This Is Africa,” but it should not be. The character Solomon Vandy (played excellently by Djimon Honsou) says that when his son – then a forced child soldier – grows up, it will be a paradise. ‘Fraid not. Still 300,000 child soldiers in the world (according to my 2004 copy of this).

I first stumbled upon Flight of the Conchords two days ago and I’m finding them to be quite excellent. FOTC is a two-man comedic folk band from New Zealand with an HBO show of the same name. I haven’t been able to watch the full show, but I’ve seen as much as I can at this point. They sing/say crazy funny lyrics with a straight face and look great doing it! Flight of the Conchords is made up of the big-lipped, oft bespectacled Jemaine Clement (Hiphopopotamus) and higher-voiced, curly-haired Bret McKenzie (Rhymenocerous). If you have talked to me lately or are planning on doing so soon, chances are that I’m going to be raving about these guys to you or just looking like a dork quoting them to myself.

“Come on sucker, lick my battery.”

Yep. Just like that.

Here’s one of my favorites thus far:

Business Time

Things that I particularly like to note in that video: Jemaine doing his sultry voice, Jemaine’s sexy dance, and the true meaning of business socks

To be fair to Bret, here’s a good one showing more of him:

The Humans Are Dead

In this, I particularly fancy: Jemaine’s robot voice, the two seconds of laser sounds, Bret’s binary solo.

I trust you know how to work your way around YouTube. Now go forth and FOTC-erize yourselves!

For all those who’ve been getting excited for free ice cream from Cold Stone shops on January 7th, it’s time for disappointment. There will be no free ice cream. This article from The Grand Rapids Press explains the confusion. It was a rumor hugely spread and desired to be true, but only a rumor. Tough luck for those who wanted the free ice cream (who wouldn’t?) and for Cold Stone employees who’ll doubtless have to explain the situation to countless people on January 7th.

I used to say that I wanted my words to drip from my lips like liquid silver. Now I say that I want to scoop out my soul, spin it into thread, and weave it into a tapestry of words. Words words words. What is there without words? Much, but how to think of it? Thinking in images, feelings, sensations without placing a word in is rather difficult.

I have this idea that, at least for me, there are at least two streams of thought going through my mind at any given waking moment. One of them is louder and more easily controlled, with the other bubbling in the background. For me to fall asleep, I believe that I must only have one stream of thought going through my mind. Sometimes, I am able to let go of the other stream of thought rather easily, falling asleep quickly, but at other times, it gets going so fast that it takes much longer to slow it down and tuck it away.

I’ve always been curious as to what other people do to fall asleep. I regularly asked my family about this when I was younger and more of an insomniac. I didn’t understand then that many people didn’t do anything to fall asleep, but that sleep just came to them without effort. For some time, when I was having trouble falling asleep I would focus on a very specific image. It was that of a large, deep green disc spinning. The disc was so large that from the distance my mind’s eye looked at it, I could only see about half of it at one time. This worked for me for months or perhaps a few years until it started making me feel dizzy and slightly nauseous when I tried to focus on it. Then, one of the few things that would let me sleep would be to imagine myself swinging and rocking back and forth gently. There was a hammock at a little camp on Horn Pond in Acton, Maine. I liked to feel that I was swinging in that hammock when I wanted to fall asleep. I would do this until my body and mind relaxed more and I felt as if I were actually moving with the imagined hammock. Other times, I would think of being in a boat rocked by the waves, but I could not control the waves in that, so I tended to favor the hammock. More recently, I’ve been falling asleep more easily so that I usually do not feel the need to focus or unfocus on something, but if I do these days, I center on my breathing. Still, I am curious about those who do have trouble falling asleep if they have any specific things they do or don’t do when trying to get to sleep.

From words to thoughts to falling asleep. It’s a ramble.

Interesting:

Before babies speak actual words, they are already babbling with the accent of the language around them.