everything i tell you is hearsay

look. i’m willing to believe in a lot of weird crap that i do not understand: astrology, tarot cards, physics….

but i have never once had any cause to believe in ghosts. not that i think they don’t exist, but rather, they don’t tend to enter my version of reality. at least, they didn’t used to…

this week however, they’ve been all over the damn place. the knocking pipes only being the first incidence of three. two days after, there was a loud almost gunshot like series of reports in the evening. but the last straw was yesterday when hodie comes in from getting something out of the car for me to say that she heard a loud rapping on the car window and my voice calling her, only to look up and see no one was there. i didn’t tell her about the spookiness from earlier this week. she wasn’t even around for the 2nd incident. but now, it seems to involve her. and this scares me even more.

i think it would bother me less if the overall sense i got wasn’t so… angry. whatever it is that is employing these methods to get my attention seems perfectly content to terrorize me a little in order to get it.

i just want to go back to a world where me and the ghosties did not acknowledge each other’s existence. please?

not that you perverts.

i’ve always been a lousy sleeper. i have to read or listen to a podcast in order to fall asleep in the first place, since i have a tendency to chase myself around in my head at night. i wake up at the drop of a hat. if there’s any noise, or light, or persons, in the vicinity, i wake up.

someone suggested melatonin. i was skeptical, but since the suggestion came with a free sample supply, i decided to try it. pro: i did actually fall asleep quickly last night. con: i woke up about an hour later. i decided that i wanted to take a bath to warm up and hopefully drop off again quickly. well, that didn’t quite work out as planned…

i live in a plex where there are many common walls. the plumbing is fundamentally interconnected. and i know full well that when i take a bath, my neighbors can hear it. i know this cause i can hear their showers. so when the banging started, i thought “finally all that screaming and moaning has driven them over the high side and they don’t really want to listen to me bathe at 11pm. so i turned off my tap. but the banging, which was loud and persistent, went on well after i turned off the water. i could feel the vibration of the concussion vibrating the tub. and for some reason, this scared the shit out of me.

i got out of the tub, went to my front door, checked that it was locked. checked on hodie, (blissfully asleep; a freight train in the living room wouldn’t wake her) and crawled cowering into my bed. somehow, i knew this banging was directed at me, and the source had a malevolent intent. i almost started crying. it paused briefly after about 10 minutes, but then resumed as loud and insistent as ever. finally i cranked up the air purifier to full blast to drown out the sound of the banging, pulled a pillow over my head, and prayed for sleep.

eventually i drifted off, but woke up several more times during the night, even though the noise had stopped. i was so wound up from being inexplicably afraid that i just never managed to relax in full. at about 5am i finally gave up and rose for the day, but with that malaise that seems to come with the clinging bad dream. you know what i mean: those dreams that linger and persist in bothering and distracting you long after you have woken and begun your day.

for some reason, i just could not shake off this feeling of unease and apprehension. it went on all morning. i finally had to resort to asking my co-worker to hug me before it would dissipate. and this bothers me. because i like to think i am a rational grownup person who can explain to herself that what was most likely a random plumbing problem does not represent a threat to me in any significant way.

and perhaps in the dark of the night, when senses fail to pierce the shadow cast over them, this can be excused, but in the full light of the afternoon, it just feels like a character flaw.

has actually, until recently, been a hate/loathe relationship. stumptown is primarily responsible for making me believe that java isn’t necessarily the foulest substance in the known universe, but i’m hardly a fan.

however, i have come to accept, that in it’s time and place, coffee can be a wonderful wonderful thing. or, perhaps more particularly, stimulants can be a wonderful wonderful thing.

usually, i’m pretty careful about when i attempt to harness this power for evil. cause as a person who can taste caffeine (not yummy) i tend to avoid things that contain it. as such, i’m pretty sensitive to it. so, when i have a cuppa at 7pm it is going to keep me cranking all night. and sometimes, when there is homework, or unavoidable chores, i simply must submit myself to this consequence for the sake of the greater good.

that being said, nothing needs to be coffee flavored as far as i can tell. because (with the exception of aforementioned stumptown, plus also haagen daas ice cream bars) all things coffee flavored taste like wretchedness. and so the lesson here i suppose is for me to realize that not all people feel this way, and that assuming that the protein shake is chocolate just because its brown is faulty reasoning. so.

it is not often i can claim to have been in on something cool from its inception. however, in the case of the derby; i can. this is due mostly to hanging out with the right people, but still.

i was at 7 of the first 8 bouts the RCR’s ever had, and let me tell you, it was a hell of a good time. i really enjoyed the carnival atmosphere, the adrenaline in the air, and the sort of hard-core-do-it-yourselfness that seemed to permeate the bouts. it was pretty much bitchin.

not everything went off without a hitch, but i never failed to be entertained by the experience.

sometimes, success ruins even the best ideas.

i understand these events are costly to put on, and the girls need equipment and practice space, and a travel budget, etc etc. however, the degree to which the derby has whored itself out at this point leaves me feeling more than a little dismayed. the announcers spend at least as much time schilling for the sponsors as they do commenting on the bouts, there has been (in my opinion) a very ill-advised change in how long the bouts run (perhaps to make people feel like they’re getting their money’s worth?) which leaves the audience exhausted (i can barely imagine how much harder it is on the skaters) and the very energy and grit that used to feel so genuine and appealing now seems put upon and strained.

it’s really a bummer. i used to love to go out to the derby, but this time i barely made it til halftime. i really feel like a scaled back version which focused more on the skating and less on attempting to broaden the commercial appeal of what will always necessarily be a niche market sport would benefit the experience tremendously.

this wasn’t so much a restful week pour moi. i had some emotional confusion going on in the early portion which caused me to flee from my cozy and wonderful bed with its sheets of 300 counted threads and hunker down instead on the couch with OPB til Mr Rogers began to chirp his merry tune in the wee hours of the morning. when the emotional confusion relented enough to let me crawl back into my own bed, the child woke up in the night with horrible mysterious abdominal pains we thought we’d rid ourselves of. apparently not.

so, it was my intention to stay in last night. i had nine-trillion loads of laundry to fold, i was generally tired from the week, i had to work in the morning, and i figured an early night would do me good. i also figured that folding my laundry would be more fun with a little somethin-somethin.

what i failed to consider was that i frequently find myself locked in an eternal struggle when i have a little somethin-somethin: desperate desire to talk to people vs. wild paranoia.

i submitted to the first only moments before experiencing the second.

i need to learn to enjoy my chores unaided or leave my phone the hell alone.

So,

the child has been after me to let her get a pet. i have been opposed to this because generally i am not in favor of:

cleaning up poop
small rodents in my house
creatures without advanced limbic systems in cages
pet based aromas

all of which tend to accompany the pets she is suggesting she become the owner of. i have encouraged her to make friends with the pencils who have all manner of pets furry and reptile, swimmers and scamperers alike. she views this suggestions with skepticism.

then, apparently inspired, yesterday she said the following: mom, what i really want is something other than a pet. how about instead of a HAM-ster, i get a SIS-ter!!

because a sibling really is the ultimate pet

if you are what you eat, it’s better to be a potato than spaghetti. because potatoes are still kinda cute but spaghetti is not. plus it’s totally not huggable but a potato pretty much is.

unassailable logic, that.

Current mood: amused

yes, it’s that time again folks; talent show time.

last year hodie had a clear notion of her aim. puff baby. puff.

so, we puffed. it went fine. it’s not my favorite song. i was kinda tired of it by the end of our run.

this year she was at a loss. she didn’t really have a notion of what she wanted to do, except, well, obviously, sing.

so i suggested the best song in all the land. and she agreed. so i get to be kermit. if i knew how to play the banjo, it’d be even better, but as it stands, she’s lucky i can play at all.

oh and also, i am not allowed to sing along. ha.

still hurts. which was only annoying until it began to interfere with my ability to be the giver i am, and then became quite unbearable. tattoo seems to be healing better though.

turns out it’s snowing on the mountain. maybe there’s hope for one more day on the slopes before the season is over completely. finger’s crossed.

if not, spring sports are on their way. everytime i open the coat closet my tennis rackets beckon me, the discs for frisbee are just begging to be tossed around, my bike is dangling from its hook whispering my name, and of course, my dad won’t fucking shut up about us going golfing. which will be fun as long as he does not commit child-murder upon me for slowing him down too much on the links.

meanwhile i am trying to convince the offspring she is not in fact terrified of her trailer bike like she claims to be, but rather overwhelmed with JOY at the prospect of being dragged around behind my bike for the next few months. so far, there has been utter failing in this.

fuckow my neck
Current mood: pained

it’s kinda getting it from all angles.

for some reason my tattoo is not healing well at all. i’ve only ever had one act this way once before, and it was my very first. its very sore and flaky and peeling and dry and scabrous. sweet, huh? i’ve been trying to keep it moisturized, but until i hit upon the combo of triple antibiotic ointment and diaper cream, nothing seemed to be working very well. now i think i’m going to have to have the work re-inked so it doesn’t look uneven and faded. which sucks, cause i’ll have to heal all over again. pftft.

also, slept wrong on my head last night, which means i cant turn my head more than a few degrees without it hurting rather pointedly.

stupid lucky bird