The Eyes are the Windows through Your Face (or, "Insights into My Soul")

Today I am wearing a t-shirt that reads, "Sometimes clouds just look like clouds." You should know that though I find the shirt to be dreamy enough (it includes the image of clouds wrapped around telephone poles and eletrical wires), that is not necessarily a notion I subscribe to.

Imagination is, afterall, more important than knowledge.

***
In related news, I went to the hardware store earlier this morning in search of a means to repair my bathroom doorknob (which falls off everytime it is pulled shut).

As I walked through the do-it-yourself (e.g. no electronic sensor) doors, all I could think was to ask the nearest stockboy if he had any idea where I might find a "good screw."

But I am a good girl, even if my sense of humor is a bit... off... so I bit my tongue and proceeded, instead, to help myself.

Echo's Last Stand

For the past six years of my life, I have been paid either to write, or to teach writing. Sometimes both.

And though I think most times I'm a decent communicator — both in writing and in speech — the fact remains that there are some situations that no words can resolve.

You feel them there — swimming around your brain, and settling into a knot in your throat — before you choke them back, resigning them to their futility.

You have learned, you think. You know better.

Nothing can change what has happened, and nothing you say — or do — will help to sway your future.

And so the words just... slip away. You clench your jaw, and maybe your fists.

You drag your thumb along the knuckles and wonder just how many years remain before your hands cease to open and close so freely.

Time is — in fact — the enemy. And you have already wasted so much.

And yet, still, there you are:

Standing. And staring.

With nothing left to say.

And yet: everything.

One Letter Changes Everything

Today on the news so-and-so was getting all political but then threw me through a loop by talking about "Vito threats."

Took me no more than a split second to process the phrase and realize she'd said "Veto threats."

But, man, if I didn't get really amused thinking about what our country would be like if the Sopranos ran our government.

Which isn't to say they don't...

Language Lessons

Whilst making (soy) bacon, egg and cheese biscuits this morning, I learned that the Spanish word for "bake" is "hornee."

That is all.

Live & Learn

So I just found out this week that I've been shouting the wrong thing at baseball games.

It's "Buy me some peanuts and Crackerjack" not "Buy me some peanuts and Crackerjacks."

I don't consider myself to be old, but I certainly think I should've realized the error of my ways some years ago — maybe about the time I realized it was "wind chill" factor and not "windshield" factor. Or of course the day I realized most people don't pronounce the "t" in "often."

Guess I'm still learning.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows(Book Review)

SPOILER FREE

Good book. Enjoyed it. Had to read the last three chapters twice, though, as I don't think some dynamics were explained entirely well. And for about 75 pages in the middle, I felt it was going on for a bit too long. I also could've done without the epilogue.

Otherwise, a joy to read and — yes — I'm sorry it's over. I don't care about the naysayers — J.K. Rowling is quite the storyteller, brilliant even.

Yes, that's right. I said it. She's brilliant at what she does.

No Nabokov or Henry James or James Joyce or William Faulkner. But a brilliant storyteller nevertheless.

And, yes, Deathly Hallows does offer the tidy ending I was hoping for for the series. Which is funny, in a way, because when I read those other authors I despise tidy endings.

Even if you've always sworn off this series, try Book One. Suspect you'll have a hard time stopping from there.

Haiku/Gesundheit (Volume XLX)

washington's two-hour stint as tom selleck
(or, "my cat speaks for us all")

man shaves his goatee
leaving only a mustache
maude hisses & runs

---

the idiot speaketh
(or, "what not to say at an important meeting")

a week's worth of work
summarized by yours truly:
i wrote on my face

---

rethink doublethink

chief among those was
a mighty warrior, armed with
syntax like arrows

---

you are my napalm pilot

old tongues burn to speak:
if i say i am lost would
you come to find me?

Quote of the Day

THE SETTING
A local cafeteria, where a new guy started a week or two ago. He's an energetic African American in his late 20s/early 30s. The couple of times I've seen him, he's earned high marks in my book on the "friendly" factor -- which compares dramatically to some of his co-workers.

Him: [full of energy, smiling and chanting] Pizza, pizza, pizza...

Me: [chuckling, eyeing the single-serving buffalo chicken pizza] I was thinking about it. [Pausing] Hey, is that white meat?

Him: Why, are you worried about Lent?

Me: Nah, I just don't like the taste of dark meat.

Him: [shaking, to try and hold back the laugher]

Me: [blushing furiously, realizing with horror what I'd just said, vaguely recollecting an old line from the Chappelle Show or one of those Scary Movies... I can't remember which. But the gist of the double entendre was clearly flashing through both our minds.]

Him: [smiling big, chuckling once, and then smiling again] It's all breast. White breast meat.

Me: [avoiding eye contact, cheeks burning] OK, thanks. I may be back.

[Pretending to look at "other options" before turning around and running -- sprinting -- back to work.]

Republican Banana

Cashier: Swipe your cardigan please.

Customer: Huh?

Cashier: Could you please swipe your cardigan?

Customer: Ummm...

Me: Swipe your card again.

***
I walked away from that conversation repeating those words over and over, having never before stopped to consider the similarity.

Card again // cardigan
Card again // cardigan
Card again // cardigan

Yeah, I'm easily amused.