Almost Two Months Later, But It Was Worth It

What am I talking about? Gogol Bordello. So Very Much Worth It. I felt alive, and scared, and happy, and crazy, and one in a mass of people... which at this time was wonderful.

Now it is midsummer. The evening breeze from the ocean began about an hour ago, but the heat still rises from the blacktop and radiates from the brickwork walls. I have done nothing these past few days... have left my apartment only to walk down the hall to get the mail, and once last night to take out the trash. I know it is bad. I know it is dangerous just to keep myself cooped up in a studio apartment with little mobility room. Just sitting here with my laptop, or watching DVDs of ER at night.

I don't speak to anyone face to face, and very rarely on the telephone. Only when I need to say something to checkers at the market, or a rare hello if someone passes by on one of my few trips outside. I guess it's like being entombed, in a way. And every day I am a little more afraid of people out there... a little more afraid that I cannot communicate correctly anymore (not that I was ever stellar to begin with). I am afraid of going to interviews and being found terribly lacking simply because I don't converse well vocally. Because I am fat. Because my clothes don't look wonderful on me.

As a result, I stay indoors more and more... shying away from the human contact I used to crave. Wishing on stars that I had a special someone in my life, but knowing I'm no Rapunzel. No prince is going to come down the alley to ask me to pull him into my rooms.

Someday, I will go back out, and I will again speak to people. And someday... yeah, "someday my prince will come", only I will be able to invite him through the front door. And then, almost two months after all of that has begun, I can look back on finally breaking out of my tomb and say to myself it was worth it.

Adventure, But Not In Hollywood This Time

One of the reasonings I was pummeling myself with all week for NOT going to Nine Inch Nails tonight was this: I need new tires, especially a rear one, badly. Another reason was: I really need to get my brakes checked, because they aren't feeling quite right. Place these two items with driving 60 miles both ways tonight and again tomorrow night, and I was successfully talking myself out of seeing at least tonight's show, and quite possibly tomorrow night's as well, knowing me.

And while I have already seen Lord Trent, I would kick myself in the ass for the rest of my days for not seeing Gogol Bordello.

Anyone who has known me as New Wave Syd knows I will suddenly come up with really goofy solutions. (Okay, pretty well everyone knows this...) But regarding music, I will wind up finding all sorts of ways and means to get where I want to go, usually ending the night dozing off over my fifth cup of Denny's coffee while waiting for the trains or buses to run again. When faced with the prospect of spending New Year's Eve alone years ago, I instead rented a U-Haul truck and drove that monster over to Ernie's show. Way to arrive in style, I say!

So leave it to me to go online and make a U-Haul reservation for tonight and tomorrow night. No money yet, which is good... because then I looked over on Budget and nabbed some teeny tiny Hyundai thing for a total of $80 for both nights. U-Haul, with gas and per-mile charges, would have run me about $170 at least. No way, Jose.

And while I was making the reservation for Budget, I ticked the insurance thing, and then thought wait a minute... I called Geico and asked if *I* am insured, or just the vehicle I own, and learned *I* am what is actually insured, so any rental car I drive carries the same insurance I pay for each month. Yay! She saved me about $40 right there.

A bit over the top in expenses for me? Yes, sort of. But when you look at the $70 ticket for tonight, and the $40 ticket for tomorrow night, plus if something did happen to my car while driving all over the place for these? I would much rather play it safe and rent a car. (Hell, it pays for itself in a strange way just tonight!)

Nightmares

Cross-posted in my LJ as well.


My sleep last night was full of nightmares and badly-weird dreams. In one, there was a government nuclear test, and they were going to set off three small test bombs near here. I don't know if it was in the ocean or in the desert, but it wasn't an underground thing. I could hear the announcing voice in the night, telling everyone to remain calm and head to the central part of your house. Use the special blankets and cover yourself in the bathtub. Do not attempt to open your eyes for ten minutes after the final explosion. (This seems to have come from my memories of Gary England's tornado warning announcements from childhood.) I grabbed my old blue blanket and pillows, and lay down in the tub, covering myself completely with the blanket. As the countdown began, Alanis jumped in the tub with me and I put the blanket over her, too telling her to keep her eyes closed. We curled up together and the first bomb went off. I could see the flash of light behind my eyelids. "There's one," I thought. Alanis had tensed and started to move, but I held her tightly and she stayed, still tense. The second one went off, and I was sort of wondering why they were doing this above ground.... it was as though no one (including myself) had thought about the consequences. I don't remember the third one going off, and know in my dream I was waiting, wondering if I had miscounted or what.

I woke suddenly, terrified because I knew at the moment of waking that those things were completely wrong. I tied calming myself, telling myself it was a bad dream and that was it. Nuclear, nuclear, what the hell made me dream that? I wondered. I hadn't been watching The Day After.... oh, but one of the scene segments in the first episode of Remington Steele I watched last night was called "Nuclear Love". Maybe that's where it came from.

I was gripped with more panic then, suddenly my brain counting months until my UI runs out. Okay, I only just got my third check, so there is no reason to go into panic mode, but I did. I calmed myself again, promising panicked insides that I will use up major bandwidth today in sending out my resume all over the place.

There was one, perhaps two, other dreams after that one, but now I don't remember them... just that they were unnerving as well. I was glad to get up this morning.

Pressing

I feel suspended in time, as though the world outside is rushing past me in a rivertumble heading towards the future, and I am left alone in my small apartment, only occasionally looking out the window to watch. I am detached, when going to the market or interacting as little as I do with others outside now. It will be a forced thing for me, pushing myself back out into the sunshine as I try to convince myself to remain in the dark.

I know this isn't right. It doesn't help to know, really. In my mind, perhaps, but I still stay. (I will say that when I get out, it feels wonderful. Just getting out the door is at times akin to passing into another world, which I suppose it is in a way.)

It will pass. It will always pass, just like those people beneath my window. But until then I feel like I am Brer Rabbit, and my hands are fully sucked into the Tar Baby's face for trying to teach life some manners. Guess I'm not much of an Emily Post.

Surviving

I haven't mentioned it yet, but my last day of work was March 16. I have been looking, though. When people say "there's nothing out there", it's not quite true; there's a lot of work open, but most of it seems to be $12.00 an hour and lower. Can I survive on that? Yes... Unemployment is giving me a whopping $8.82 an hour when you break it down. But this is just surviving.

I have done plenty of surviving in my life. There was not much money while I was growing up. Mom and Dad did the best they could, giving things up to make sure my sister and I got a good education. I appreciate it more now that I can see it from a adult standpoint. I worked my ass off in bars, supporting the boyfriend at the time... and the money really didn't go too far. There was an apartment fire one December, and it wasn't until mid-April I had a place to live again. Working for just enough to pay the rent and juggle between bills for years. Knowing how to use an orange extension cord when the electricity is shut off. Knowing how long it will take to fill the bathtub when the water needs to be heated in the microwave because the gas has been turned off until payment is made. Sleeping in the back booth at Denny's under the 405 Freeway because no buses run that late at night so I can get home, and the money to fix the car just wasn't there. (That lasted over a year.)

I've done my share of surviving, I think. And I really don't want to go back to any of that. I just won't... I can't. Those years of just holding my breath, putting blinders on my eyes like a racehorse, and forcing myself to plow through all the bad stuff, all the garbage and waste and road blocks just to get to a little brighter area, a little higher ground. That type of struggle for such a long time just wears people out.

I found the higher ground, and was happy. I'm really still here, even though instead of being safely inside the house, I am out on the rocks now which shore up the ground to help prevent a landslide. I keep looking up at the sky, biting my lip in consternation, hoping only to see puffy clouds and no rain. There have been a few showers (such as having a job offer rescinded last Friday), but I am still here... as I squat down and make a few raps on the roots of a large tree, knocking on wood.

At least I do know where I've been, if not where I am going.

Language Art

Good thing: There seem to be plenty of words in Bulgarian that are shared by English, French, and Spanish or Italian.

Bad thing: Trying to make my brain realize "this symbol is a letter and sounds like this", because my brain wants Roman letters, not Cyrillic letters. Brain think Cyrillic letters are pretty, but should keep quiet. :)


Like: самолет

This sounds like "semoulette" (silent e) to me. It means airplane. Brain is looking at it and telling me "Well, if you are going to insist on trying to read this, it looks like 'camonet'. Like a camouflage netting. I guess that could be related to an airplane, because you would use camo nets to hide yourself from an enemy plane. But that is on the ground! And if that л character isn't an n, then why isn't it an r like it looks like it should be were you to write it in cursive?? Why aren't you back learning French???"

Brain will really blow a gasket if I start taking Chinese.

Being Grown Up

There are times when it is a good thing to remind yourself you are an adult. Not the times when you have to, like when you need to shame yourself into paying a bit extra on some bills instead of going out and splurging on something you want. Not when you make yourself buckle down and go to work, instead of taking one of a dozen sick days you have banked, just because it is one of the most beautiful days you have seen in awhile. And not when you go with the more conservative outfit because you will need to wear it to work, even though you know deep down you look a hella lot better in the really cute top and skirt.

Specifically, I am talking about those of us (okay, ME) who for years never really drank anything at all unless it was out at a club. For me, I haven't been out in ages, and when I was, it would be with the "you need to stay sober because you are driving" Sword of the CHP hanging over my head. For the last five or six nights I have indulged in wine after dinner. Well, and a bit during the day as well, but nothing to affect me much then. I've finished a bottle of Zinfandel, and have started on a bottle of Pinot Noir this evening, with another bottle of Merlot waiting to see if I get bored.

I feel good. I feel wonderfully relaxed and smiling. And what's more, I feel like my own person right now... like the person who puts blue and coral together even though the saleslady stares at me in horror at the thought --- and gets away with it. I feel like the woman who just got a smashing new job, and learned it was actually she who impressed the committee, and that they were indeed impressed. (Oh, wait... that really did just happen!) I feel beautiful and carefree and just like I thought I would as an adult when I was still a child.

Maybe it is that part of me that will always be a child blossoming through once again, breaking through the hard, cold sod of "acceptable adulthood" which always felt more like dirt on my coffin than anything else.

I look at the half-filled glass of crimson-ruby-carnelian and I smile, because I feel good.

All of us should.

America's Most Wanted

Tomorrow night's episode of America's Most Wanted will feature a story on Lisa Williamson. For those that don't know Lisa, or Aunt Japperhead (or ebegrl), she was a wonderful, kind, generous person and friend. And she was murdered in 2007. Please watch this episode tomorrow night (Saturday, Feb. 21 at 9pm EST) and maybe help catch her killer.

Thank you

Survival

Once again, I have survived the brown and orange bleakness of Thanksgiving. The cozy happiness through the window of Christmas. The kissing-couples and auld lang sine of another New Year's Eve. The pink, red, and white, chocolate-dipped-diamonds of Valentine's Day.

And this year, as of tomorrow at about 5am, I know I have survived a full year since being told no by the one man I could have belonged to. I don't feel I was rejected... hell, it was over five weeks between my question and his answer. I know what had gone on before, even a week prior, so I know it has nothing to do with whether I am "good enough" or "worthy".

I begin Philosophy on Tuesday. Would that he were here to discuss.

---

I am about to go check out a bead store on 4th Street. Ages ago there was one, and I loved going there and finding little trinkets, making my own little silly bits. I was perusing a few jewelry sites last night and though they are inexpensive, I wonder how much less it might cost me to make my own. I figure it shouldn't be a waste to try.

---

And on the subject of school, I still would like to take Chinese soon. Most likely Mandarin, as that seems to be more the universal language.

I applied finally for a Stafford Loan. I had always been given to understand you needed spotless credit or a cosigner for those, but it turns out not to be true. We'll see what happens.

I am restless. I am halfway through my three-day weekend. I am going to go look at the bead store now.

Thursday Morning Sunshine

From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere... If you never did, you should. These things are fun and fun is good.
- Dr. Seuss, One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish, 1960

This quote was in my Buddhist Meditations feed on Google Reader this morning. A week old, but perfect timing. Yes, I certainly did smile when I saw it. Amazing how Dr. Seuss and others can bring the lightheartedness of childhood flooding back into your life with just a few simple, age-old words.

Today has not been bad so far, even being a Thursday. There is an 8-hour sale at Albertson's, and I could stock up on some staples and canned goods and shampoo/conditioner. This helps with my happiness, believe it or not. I am carrying perfect score in my winter class, which is wonderful, too.

I am heading out now. Much goodness to all.

To Move, But To Where?

During a bit of a break at work Monday, I looked through the employment listings at Oklahoma University... not that I prefer going there or anything, but out of curiosity. Lots of listings, actually, and a few I could really go for. This led to my looking at various apartments (after work), and smiled wryly when I saw rents of like $550 and deposits of a whopping $100. To put this in perspective, the studio I now rent in a not-so-great area of Long Beach had a $1450.00 deposit plus the $725.00 first month's rent when I moved in here three years ago. The rents have since increased about $100 for the newly-rented apartments, so I imagine the deposit has increased to around $1650 by now. To see a deposit of $100 seems impossible to me.

Up in Oregon, which is where I prefer to move, the deposits are more along the lines of $300-$400. Still, amazingly low to me.

Yesterday, I applied for the position at OU, and found a few others at Portland State and OHSU in Portland. A friend of mine also sent me a couple she found where we work... one of which I have already applied for ages ago. Another friend told me that it couldn't hurt to apply for it, but they have had the position open for over a year, and most likely won't hire for it as they have someone else actually doing the job on top of her other duties. Sounds about right.

I will send in more resumes and all today. Another one of the attendings told me to use him as a reference yesterday, too, which was wonderful of him.

There seems to be no actual "end" to this post, so I will just publish it. After all, this whole thing is still ongoing.

Hope everyone has a wonderful day.

Welcome To 2009

How strange... I wanted suddenly to title this blog: Welcome To Your New Life. I wonder if that is prophetic in my case. (If so, I sure hope it's in a good way!)

I am one of those silly souls who actually came in to work this morning. My office is cold but for the airstream of heat coming from the Tramp Heater under my desk. Joe is here somewhere, but not in his office. I'd give it a guess he is in the OR this morning. Why am I at work? I do have things I need to get done, though all of it could have been done from home.

Class begins Monday for me, a rapid 6-week Winter term. I like that. This will be just the simple computer skills course, but that's good. In the spring comes history, art history, and philosophy. I was trying to get sociology in there as well, but it won't let me sign up for that, too. (Actually, I should try it again right now...)

AHA! Never mind, it let me add the class, probably because grades have been posted. I just got a D in it (yes, I am very embarrassed about that), but pulled the GPA up by getting an A in History of Religion.

Off on a bit of a sidenote here, but about a year to a year and a half ago there was a group of Tibetan Buddhist monks on the main campus at UCI for about a week. One of the things they were doing was creating a sand mandala. I was lucky enough to get out of work and take the van down there to see this, and got some photos. Yes, I want to share two of them... this is just something you should see in person if you ever get a chance.

The room hummed with the small staccato taps of the sticks on the funnels, urging colored flows of sand onto the table. It was peaceful in there, and jovial. The monks would joke a bit with each other every so often, and the American monk would answer visitors' questions in a soft, assured voice. Displays were set up around the room, but most people were in a larger circle, entranced by the creation of the mandala.

Sometimes things show you much more beauty than you expect. This was one of them for me.

Noise!

I have lived in a busy, noisy, bustling city for quite awhile now. There is never any real quiet, no solitude. I hear traffic noise like static on an old television twenty-four hours a day. The neighbors upstairs have a large dog they leave alone all night at times, who then runs back and forth, whining every few moments. There is shouting in the alleys, cars screeching between buildings and kicking up bits of broken blacktop. Scavengers pulling apart garbage bags in Dumpsters while the people on the third floor drop another load off the back fire escape into the alleyway. Jets from LAX and Long Beach Municipal drone during the day, and police helicopters tend to hover around this area at night.

Only recently has all of this noise been grinding on my nerves. I think it began the afternoon I was waiting for the shuttle to work, standing by myself in the parking lot of the Crystal Cathedral, far enough away from the streets to not really hear the traffic. The quiet was just serene, and full, and it felt as though I could raise my arms and the breeze would lift me into the sky.

I think the closest quiet place, were I to set out from where I live, would be at least an hour's drive away. Maybe more. Yes, there are parts of the beach that are quiet, but then a helicopter passes overhead, going to Catalina Island... or people walk up and are talking loudly... a boat passes too closely to not be heard... I just want a place I can go, lie down on the grass, close my eyes, and be. I want to listen to the small rustlings of the leaves, feel the cool damp of the earth on my back as the sun warms my face. I want to listen to birdsong uninterrupted by machines and people's shouting.

Funny how, when I was in my early 20s, that was the farthest thing from an ideal spot to live. I wanted noise, bustle, neon lights and open all night stores. I wanted nightlife every night of the week. I wanted excitement and glamour and pseudolove. Now I could have that still if I really wanted it, but I don't. A little is fun, sure... but I want the clean, fresh open air, too. And I want trickling water that's not from a leaking faucet, birdsong not prerecorded, and to lie in sunlight from the actual star and not from electric bulbs in a claustrophobic bed.

Yes, this is all coming into consideration as I mull over moving.

Applying

After struggling to write a decent cover letter, which seems to be one of the hardest things for me, I submitted my resume, cover letter, and a letter of rec from the man for whom I now work to a private university up in Oregon. By very offbeat chance, I happened to see they are hiring for a program assistant in one of their departments. After looking over the job description, I realized it pretty well describes what I do now. The listing doesn't tell the salary, but as long as I can live decently and I have full medical, dental, and vision, I'm all cool.

Granted, I am in California. They may take one look at that and nix me. I'm hoping not... I'm hoping they set up a phone interview, though for what is probably a lower job I doubt they will go to such trouble. (But you never know!)

---

I am off work the next two days. I could type in all these things I plan to do, or things I could decide to do, or things I would like to do over these next two days... but really. I will probably do whatever seems to present itself at the time.

I did just look at the ticket prices for Stone Temple Pilots on New Year's Eve. Ummmm, no. Not worth parting with $99 at this time.

Hollywood Thoughts

It's still early... didn't I say that yesterday? But it is. Sunny and clear again today, like a proper Southern California day should be. Minus the smog of summer, that is. I am toying with the idea of hopping a train and going up to Los Angeles, though my fundage isn't too spiffy at the moment. Should I? Shouldn't I? Should I maybe wait until New Year's Eve (or Day) to go? The weather is perfect to take photos at Hollywood Forever, though. I haven't been there in a few years... sad, but true. And it's just a bit of a jaunt down Gower from the Hollywood/Vine Red Line Station down to Gower and Santa Monica where the cemetery is.

I have yet to visit Rudolph Valentino's crypt-space. There was some really bizarro floofloo happening there last time, complete with limos and a red carpet, and Liberace-looking men. I would love to see the Lady in Black... isn't she the one who visits him as a ghost?

Another thing I find lovely in its not-so-incongruous manner, is the sight of the Paramount Studios water tower looming over one side of the cemetery. Yes, Paramount is right on the other side of a wall, and graves are in the shadow of some of the buildings there.

Gregory Peck is in the mausoleum underneath the awful Our Lady of the Angels cathedral in Los Angeles. (I tend to refer to it as Our Lady of the Parking Structures, as that is what the thing looks like to me.) I've been there numerous times. I will most likely go there this week, too.

It's amusing to walk through the gift shop there and see things like Our Lady of the Angels cabernet for sale. Maybe I will find something my parents will like, but most likely not. (If I want to purchase Catholic ephemera, there is a great store on like James Woods Blvd. that has a HUGE selection and lower prices, usually.)

By the way, the top photo is one I took. It is the sign for the Hollywood History Museum, just off Hollywood and Highland, and next to the other Mel's... the one that's not the drive-in. It was taken on May 15, 2008, on one of my jaunts to wander around up there. Maybe it was after I had seen Eddie Izzard at the Kodak Theater in "Stripped"? I think probably so. the other is obviously an old Chesterfield cigarette ad featuring Gregory Peck. Not sure how old it is, but I would guess it to be around 1949, since the ad says "starring in Twelve O'Clock High".

Saturday Musings For Now

It's pretty chilly out today, at least for Southern California. But it's bright and clear, and the air smells of woodsmoke and ocean. A perfect day to go out walking and wandering for me.

It looks as though more neighbors are moving out. Unsure from where, though it seems to be the front of the building this time. (Good.) When I parked my car last night, I saw an eviction notice on the door of one of the freaky drug houses. There are two on one lot catty corner to me across the alley, and the front one had the white paper with the big red letters. Maybe this will cut down on the yelling and screaming and 2am fights a bit.

There is a Saturday farmers' market about 10 blocks down from me until two this afternoon. I should amble down there, see if there are still any pluots to be had.

At Work The Day After Christmas

It is cold in this office building. From what I can tell, a lady in Cardiology on the first floor, someone sniffling in their office way on the other side of the building in Pharmacology here on the second floor, and I are the only people in this building. No one on the third floor from what I could tell. I have the Tramp Heater on full blast to help warm up my office. Gotta love the hot little hussy.

Well, I got an extension on the traffic ticket I got three months ago. I can pay it... a whole whopping ten bucks for the processing fee because it's just a FixIt Ticket, but I don't know if I will be able to get in there in time to avoid the $300 fine for being late. Better safe than sorry, as Long Beach Courts already got enough of my money, thank you.

I was perusing the sales a bit online, too. I think I might wander through IKEA after I get paid. Always, always you can find some little something there that will brighten your day for under $5.00. One of the things I love about the place.

With all the people moving in and out and in and out from the center to the back part of my building, I have seen roaches... way too many for my liking. I had started spraying the "unscented" Raid, which works, of course, but while it is definitely unscented, it still makes humans and animals all headachy and woosy. As I don't want to have to leave my windows open when I spray, I went to Home Depot to see about getting one of those sonic things. While I was there, a guy who was gathering items to rid his kitchen of a sudden conquering army of ants (thanks to the rain) began talking with me. He said forget the Raid, because although it does work, you may as well use a degreaser like 409 instead. I looked it up on the internet a day or so ago and by gum guess what? It seems degreasers and all actually dissolve roaches. (Of course, this brings to mind the melting head in Raiders of the Lost Ark.) I'm using it and seeing how well it really works. Oh, also read that stuff like Banana Boat oil can be left applied to areas, and it will literally clog up their lungs and suffocate them. I don't mind that, either; a house smelling of the beach and just-cleaned kitchen? Nice.

And speaking of the kitchen, the sink finally became unclogged last night. Well, less clogged, you could say. After leaving the Liquid Plumr Max gel in there for HOURS, I finally said screw this and did what it is said you are not to do: I took a plunger and started working away. The third time I did this, the water seemed to me lessening in the sink.... I did it another two spats, and saw that yes indeed, it really IS beginning to drain! I let it go all the way down, and began pouring near-boiling water from pots on the stove into the drain. This morning it still looks good, but when I look down into the drain itself, I can't tell if there is still a clog or if that is just shadow against the white PVC pipe. I plan on getting another bottle of Liquid Plumr or Drano to pour down there overnight.

Disturbingly, the people upstairs were banging away and making odd noises that sounded way too much like trying to disassemble the kitchen pipes by themselves. The joys of apartment living.

I should go get more tea and settle in to do another jaunt of work. I've actually got a lot of work to do, but am very unmotivated this morning. Gotta do it, and I will feel all the better for it when I've completed it.

Plus, it's Friday!

Wishing To Be Myself

This is a LiveJournal entry I just ran across while searching for something else. I am a bit amazed how things have not changed much in this quarter in the past four years - yet there have been some profound changes as well. (A girl can't be around some of the men she has met lately and NOT be changed by them.)

So this is an entry from October 6, 2004:

Hi. I'm a girl. You know, a human of the feminine variety? Female. FE-male.

Oh, I know I don't look like it. I look kind of androgynous. Like it says in a profile somewhere: Some Strange Runaway. I don't act it, either, as has been pointed out to me numerous times by now-ex-boyfriends who decided they wanted Little Miss Pretty Princess 24/7. (Eddie, believe it or not, being the only one in the past 15 or so years who didn't try to wheedle me into that image. Wheedling won't work. There are *other ways* to convince me, thanks...)

For years I've had to deal with drunks, with people freaking out on drugs, with wackos in general... usually by myself. I've always been the "strong" one, the crazy chickwho knew when to get in someone's face, and when to just go call the cops. The one who always had to take care of everything at home, and who got to make the phone calls or the quiet pull-asides when people needed to be told about a death. The one to keep a cool head during an emergency, and the one who "did what was neccessary" when needed.

So I suppose that kind of makes me not-a-girl, hunh? I kind of look like one, but I guess that's all. Well, wait... when it behooves male friends to remember my gender, they do so. You know, like "You can't go on the fishing trip... no women allowed!" "Why do you want to go to a strip club? You're a girl!" "You can't go into the city (Manhattan) by yourself! You're just a girl and you have no idea how dangerous it is out there!" Any other time, I'm just one of the guys, though. Which, don't get me wrong, is very cool.

But sometimes I want to be softer and seem more vulnerable, I guess. It would be nice for a change.

All Souls' Day

I am considering hopping on the Blue Line and going up to Los Angeles today. It is still rainy outside, and that is a nice change, believe it or not. (Actually, I just peeked out and see fluffy poof-clouds that look like huge cotton balls floating around and letting the bright blue of the sky color the scene every so often. Very, very nice.)

Then again, I've got a major bit of work to do on my NaNo novel. It got shoved to the side yesterday in questionable favor of homework and a paper I needed to write. How dare this happen! And in November... gah!

I don't think I will be going out the back door, however. Two guys from the third floor are bringing huge pieces of furniture, La-Z-Boy type things, out onto the fire escape and rolling them over the railing, letting them fall about 20 to 25 feet into the back alley. They land with a loud, cracking thump-whoosh into the filthy oil-shiny water and wait as one by one they are dragged to the opposite corner to hopefully be picked up by the trash collectors.

I am just thankful they decided against stacking the furniture against my wall again.