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(no subject)
Mar. 10th, 2004 09:01 amLast night, my father gave me a haircut. This is something he's been doing for a year or so now. I've been in need of a haircut for about a month.
When we got started, I could tell that things weren't going optimally. The clippers seemed like they couldn't make it through my hair in one swipe. I think a big part of the problem is that I bought those clippers from Wal-Mart, when I was very much unemployed--that is, they are extraordinarily cheap. I began to worry about how my haircut was going to end up.
Have faith, I told myself. Daddy has been cutting his own hair for many years.
( Read more... )
This morning during our commute, my dad says, "I owe you an apology."
"For what?" I asked.
( Read more... )
When we got started, I could tell that things weren't going optimally. The clippers seemed like they couldn't make it through my hair in one swipe. I think a big part of the problem is that I bought those clippers from Wal-Mart, when I was very much unemployed--that is, they are extraordinarily cheap. I began to worry about how my haircut was going to end up.
Have faith, I told myself. Daddy has been cutting his own hair for many years.
( Read more... )
This morning during our commute, my dad says, "I owe you an apology."
"For what?" I asked.
( Read more... )
(no subject)
Mar. 7th, 2004 04:45 pmMy older niece is rather fond of panties. When we were playing with her Barbies, she kept pointing out the underwear. It took me a while to figure out that she wanted me to dress her in panties, too.
(Despite her age, my niece is not yet potty-trained.)
It was very odd, babysitting this girl. I mean, it's okay for girls to be obsessed over Barbie dolls, but feminine underwear? Her fascination seems out of the ordinary.
I kept telling her, "This is why you need to learn how to use the potty. Then you can wear panties all the time." She nodded as if she understood. Maybe she does understand; I'm not sure. To her credit, she managed to hold everything until I again put her in a diaper.
(Despite her age, my niece is not yet potty-trained.)
It was very odd, babysitting this girl. I mean, it's okay for girls to be obsessed over Barbie dolls, but feminine underwear? Her fascination seems out of the ordinary.
I kept telling her, "This is why you need to learn how to use the potty. Then you can wear panties all the time." She nodded as if she understood. Maybe she does understand; I'm not sure. To her credit, she managed to hold everything until I again put her in a diaper.
(no subject)
Mar. 7th, 2004 09:27 amIt's morning. The girls aren't up yet. I have about 4-6 more hours before my babysitting expedition is over.
I love my nieces, but I'll be glad to go home. There's only so much playing with Barbies that I can stand.
I love my nieces, but I'll be glad to go home. There's only so much playing with Barbies that I can stand.
(no subject)
Aug. 20th, 2003 07:23 pmThe bipolar guy again met me at my bus stop, so I had to chit-chat with him for about an hour. I really treasure my time alone, especially after the business day; I hate small talk just about any time of the day. Still, I tried to be nice, again making clear that I am incredibly happy being single and am not looking at all for a relationship.
Speaking of relationships, I just found out that my brother-in-law is leaving my sister. Hopefully it's a separation and not a prelude to a divorce. They've been together for more than thirteen years, but got married not even a year ago.
I need to visit the library. I have five or six books that are ridiculously overdue.
Speaking of relationships, I just found out that my brother-in-law is leaving my sister. Hopefully it's a separation and not a prelude to a divorce. They've been together for more than thirteen years, but got married not even a year ago.
I need to visit the library. I have five or six books that are ridiculously overdue.
random update
Aug. 12th, 2003 08:09 pmSo, the torrential rain today struck--again--at 5:00 p.m. Um, Nature, could you not pour on me right when I have to walk to the bus stop? I appreciate your cooperation.
My typing speed and accuracy has definitely improved since I got my most recent job placement. I'm very happy with my job, and I love being a Typist (yes, the capital is part of the title).
Last week, this 40-some-year-old man at the bus stop near my job if I would become his girlfriend. No, I hadn't met him before. I clearly explained that I was happily single and that I was not looking for anything, and he said that he just wanted to meet people to do friend-stuff with (such as bowling, which he suggested). I, of course, being the not-liar that I am, gave him my real name and my email address. I don't think he's a stalker--he seemed nice enough. But it's strange. I don't look for attention (at least, not most of the time). I don't wear make-up, I rarely wear revealing or tight clothes. He caught me as I was coming out of work, so I was wearing my work clothes (which happen to be the nicest part of my wardrobe). It's just strange.
My mom ended up with a subscription to Writer's Digest, and she has no idea how. So I get these issues, because my mom could care less. And even I get only the barest help from the articles (being a poetry writer, not fiction writer).
My sister had a manic episode last week, which was trying for the family, but ultimately good (she went to her first AA meeting and is re-committed to taking her medication). My brother, on the opposite side of the extreme scale, hit his fiance and pissed on her. (She says it was deliberate; he says she walked into his stream.) It's been one of those weeks.
My typing speed and accuracy has definitely improved since I got my most recent job placement. I'm very happy with my job, and I love being a Typist (yes, the capital is part of the title).
Last week, this 40-some-year-old man at the bus stop near my job if I would become his girlfriend. No, I hadn't met him before. I clearly explained that I was happily single and that I was not looking for anything, and he said that he just wanted to meet people to do friend-stuff with (such as bowling, which he suggested). I, of course, being the not-liar that I am, gave him my real name and my email address. I don't think he's a stalker--he seemed nice enough. But it's strange. I don't look for attention (at least, not most of the time). I don't wear make-up, I rarely wear revealing or tight clothes. He caught me as I was coming out of work, so I was wearing my work clothes (which happen to be the nicest part of my wardrobe). It's just strange.
My mom ended up with a subscription to Writer's Digest, and she has no idea how. So I get these issues, because my mom could care less. And even I get only the barest help from the articles (being a poetry writer, not fiction writer).
My sister had a manic episode last week, which was trying for the family, but ultimately good (she went to her first AA meeting and is re-committed to taking her medication). My brother, on the opposite side of the extreme scale, hit his fiance and pissed on her. (She says it was deliberate; he says she walked into his stream.) It's been one of those weeks.
Just Back...
Dec. 21st, 2001 11:34 pm... from a week's vacation in Michigan, with my family--the "holiday" trip. It was good to be with them again.
I got to spend significant time with my year-old niece Aja. She is truly a bundle of joyous energy. She is naturally equipped with Kung-Fu grip. When she grabs onto your shirt, you will spend minutes prying her fingers from you. She wants to get into everything. She's a very determined soul--if she wants something, she'll put her entire body action towards it. She's a wonderful girl, and I love her to death. It will be so interesting to see what kind of personality she will have.
For twenty-three more minutes, it's still the solstice. Happy Yule, all.
For the occasion, I wish I had some hot cider. But I do not. I'll have to make due with hot tea (and fresh banana-walnut bread).
While at home, I had the opportunity to make it through much of Julian Jayne's Origins of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. I can't say I agree with every part of the author's hypothesis, but I find the greater part of his ideas entirely fascinating, ideas I can easily fit into my own cosmology. A short example of part of its argument:
Oh, and more interesting to me than probably anyone else...
I spent several hours this week scribbling snippets of this book into my personal journal. Some of it, I want to be able to easily refer to it.
The drive back from Michigan was long, and now I am tired. My crisply cool pillows sound really good right now.
I got to spend significant time with my year-old niece Aja. She is truly a bundle of joyous energy. She is naturally equipped with Kung-Fu grip. When she grabs onto your shirt, you will spend minutes prying her fingers from you. She wants to get into everything. She's a very determined soul--if she wants something, she'll put her entire body action towards it. She's a wonderful girl, and I love her to death. It will be so interesting to see what kind of personality she will have.
For twenty-three more minutes, it's still the solstice. Happy Yule, all.
For the occasion, I wish I had some hot cider. But I do not. I'll have to make due with hot tea (and fresh banana-walnut bread).
While at home, I had the opportunity to make it through much of Julian Jayne's Origins of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind. I can't say I agree with every part of the author's hypothesis, but I find the greater part of his ideas entirely fascinating, ideas I can easily fit into my own cosmology. A short example of part of its argument:
Subjective conscious mind is an analog [defined as "an experientially generated model"] of what is called the real world. Its reality is of the same order as mathematics. It allows us to shortcut behavioral processes and arrive at more adequate decisions. Like mathematics, it is an operator rather than a thing or repository. And it is intimately bound up with volition and decision (p. 55).
Oh, and more interesting to me than probably anyone else...
Even such an unmetaphorical-sounding word as the verb 'to be' was generated from a metaphor. It comes from the Sanskrit bhu, 'to grow, or make grow,' while the English forms 'am' and 'is' have evolved from the same root as the Sanskrit asmi, 'to breathe'" (p. 51).
I spent several hours this week scribbling snippets of this book into my personal journal. Some of it, I want to be able to easily refer to it.
The drive back from Michigan was long, and now I am tired. My crisply cool pillows sound really good right now.
Spiritual Journal, 11/3/01
Nov. 1st, 2001 09:17 am8:15 a.m.
Let me write this down now, before I forget. I remembered a way of looking at the world, much as Neo did after his 'resurrection': except the world for me was kind of orange, not green (different VAX colors?). But it did seem like I could "see" the physical contours of the room without having my eyes open. I knew I was entering a deep trance; but I was able to keep talking through it. From [when I recorded] my memories of the ear piercing and the Kool-Aid (which is the more significant one, I'd say), I was in that trance. I can hear the random sounds and see the mental images in my head, and remember how they came to be known as words to me, or 'memories', as the case may be.
The Kool-Aid incident. I couldn't have been more than four years old. I remember thinking about a self-referential thought. Some part of me knew that if I concentrated on this thought, that it would be dangerous (caught in a thought loop). But it managed to loop several times, me working through each of those first reiterations laboriously, like any unsuspecting four-year-old would. Then I shelved it. I shelved the still-recurring thought and deliberately thought about something else (whatever was in front of me--[my friends and I] were running off someplace). Tonight, I refelt that thought, and it is still running, as it must run throughout the whole [length of] my existence: like two mirrors converging upon themselves, the thought in the apex is destined to reflect itself unto infinity.
That, my friends, is the perpetual motion machine that seems to exist only metaphysically.
Let me write this down now, before I forget. I remembered a way of looking at the world, much as Neo did after his 'resurrection': except the world for me was kind of orange, not green (different VAX colors?). But it did seem like I could "see" the physical contours of the room without having my eyes open. I knew I was entering a deep trance; but I was able to keep talking through it. From [when I recorded] my memories of the ear piercing and the Kool-Aid (which is the more significant one, I'd say), I was in that trance. I can hear the random sounds and see the mental images in my head, and remember how they came to be known as words to me, or 'memories', as the case may be.
The Kool-Aid incident. I couldn't have been more than four years old. I remember thinking about a self-referential thought. Some part of me knew that if I concentrated on this thought, that it would be dangerous (caught in a thought loop). But it managed to loop several times, me working through each of those first reiterations laboriously, like any unsuspecting four-year-old would. Then I shelved it. I shelved the still-recurring thought and deliberately thought about something else (whatever was in front of me--[my friends and I] were running off someplace). Tonight, I refelt that thought, and it is still running, as it must run throughout the whole [length of] my existence: like two mirrors converging upon themselves, the thought in the apex is destined to reflect itself unto infinity.
That, my friends, is the perpetual motion machine that seems to exist only metaphysically.
