Sunday, April 12, 2009

Six Different Ways

In light of the Easter holiday I shall blow the dust off of my deeply buried Catholic conscience and say this:

Forgive me blogger for I have sinned. It has been 6 days since my last

Yes, I'm well aware that I have used that line or something similar to it in this blog before but since there are only a handful of people (at best) who actually make the trek over to this corner of the Internet, I'm sure I will be forgiven.

In the past 6 days I've started a few posts only to quickly abandon them because they were too long, too boring, too self absorbed, or too incoherent. As such, they've since been deleted. (Post edit: turns out this particular entry is all of those things. This could have been foreshadowing, now it's just forewarning.)
Yes! Today I start fresh.

I'm a Gemini. That explains just about everything, doesn't it? If you think it's difficult to live with a Gemini, you should try BEING one. Honestly! Contrary to the common belief that there are two sides to every poor unfortunate soul born under this sign, I believe there are many more.

Growing up with this disability was difficult. I never knew what I wanted. It was almost easier just to examine all of the things I didn't want and try to come to a conclusion that way. I hated the question, "What do you want to be when you grow up?" The answer to that question could depend on the colour of underpants I was wearing that day. One could just never tell... especially me. One thing I did know is that I did not EVER want to be a ballerina. I'm as graceful as a jackhammer. See! Again, something I didn't want was all that was certain.

I would change my clothes multiple times before leaving the house even though I had gone through this whole routine the night before to ensure this very thing didn't happen the next day. I've been known to spend an hour putting each hair perfectly in place only to wash it and then throw it in an elastic five minutes after finishing. Stuff like that happened, and continues to happen all the time.
One of my favourite Cure songs is called Six Different Ways. Here's a teensy clipit of lyrics:

This is stranger than I thought
Six different ways inside my heart
And every one I'll keep tonight
Six different ways go deep inside

I think the song has stuck with me these 20 some years because it is EXACTLY how I feel some days, most days. My mind is rarely quiet and never still. It's infuriating because I'm sure that if I could organize my thoughts a little better, I would probably find a bunch of really good stuff in there. Perhaps I could be really good at something... one thing rather than the two dozen projects I always seem to have on the go or in the hopper. It would be so satisfying to be so good at one thing that it could sustain me, keep me entertained, and possibly lead to a career rather than just a job to do until I get bored and want to try something else. What a glorious thought that is.

It would be nice to finish just one blog post without switching to 5 other websites to see what's going on there or saving a draft, running to finish the laundry I forgot I had started and then coming back.

With that in mind, I've given myself the freedom to do anything with this post today. To go in any direction I want, in the order I want. I think you can see that's already happening. If it's random and doesn't flow, you'll at least know why. Let's consider it a way to blow out all the cobwebs. I often have trouble writing a post because there are so many thoughts swimming around that it's hard to pick just one. Today, I'll let them all out.

Let the fun begin!

~ Loud breathing bothers me. I'm not entirely sure why. There's a fellow that I work with and he's an extremely loud breather and it drives me absolutely insane. It's not that I don't like the man, he's a swell guy. He's funny and kind but the sound of him breathing irritates me. My suspicions are that it's a deep seeded memory of the sound my grandfather as he gasped for air. He died of lung cancer. Maybe I'm like one of those dogs that can smell cancer. Maybe the sound of his breathing makes me think that he's somehow not well and it upsets me? Who the hell knows. End rant.

~ It's a good thing that Mr. B works out of town. Otherwise he'd know that I'm taking very poor care of his children. See evidence below.

These are the cans I gathered from various locations around the house this morning. The Coke Zero ones are mine, and neither of them were empty. In my defense these cans belong to three children between the ages of 12 and 18 years of age. THEY KNOW BETTER! Everything other than water, milk, and juice is under strict lock down.

~ Now that the little buggers have slept off their sugar and caffeine highs, I decided what better way to start a new day than with lemon scones and coffee. Coffee consumed only by myself and the 18 year old - Just FYI. He's 18 and I didn't give birth to him so I can't exactly tell him he can't have it. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's done growing and that "it stunts your growth" is just something mothers say so they don't have to share.

Here's a photo essay of our morning.

~ There's a site online called where you can search out almost any song you can think of and "blip" it. It's like you get to be a DJ and you choose the music. People can listen to your blips and give you props when they like what you've chosen. It's wicked cool. I think it's my new addiction. In fact, I've been writing this blog for hours because while I'm writing and editing photos, I'm also engaging in a ska-off with another DJ. Love it! Join in the Madness, won't you?

~ Did you know that I'm a popcorn snob? I will go out of my way to a specific theatre if the popcorn is better there than at other theatres. It's weird, but one likes what they like. I also make popcorn at home the old fashioned way in a pot with oil and real butter and salt. No chemicals, no colouring. Hey, that's something I know that I want. Good popcorn. Sweet Georgia Peaches this brain dump is working!

~ I used to be one of those jerks who secretly laughed inside at people who love their dogs. Now that I have my very own dog, I get it. It's really a shame that I'm not a small dog person because I like to do things like this:

It would be so much easier if he was a small dog. Oh! I could carry him in a purse. Oh well, too bad.

~ I love Supernatural.

~ Let's see, what else am I thinking about. Nothing that really interests me enough to write about so I'll sign this off with one final thought. I love my babies.

Except when they fight. Then I just want to sell them to the gypsies.


  1. I like your random brain dump! I think you should write like this all the time. :)

    And I love the photo essay.

    And you are insane about popcorn.

    And loud breathing bothers me, too, but mainly just in an irritating-noise-that-grates-on-my-nerves kind of way.

  2. Nice post. I suppose I should update mine as well. Ugh! I wonder who that other DJ was. *snicker.