I Need You to Give it Meaning

Overtaken

2010-07-31T01:10:00.004-04:00

Staring out the back door at a world neglected...
The tendrils of vine twirl and wind their way to freedom -
Up the fence posts and along the ground.
I wish they'd come for me,
Creep right up the sidewalk and inside,
Overtake me, choke me out...
The sound of the tree crickets slowly fading with the light
Until it is night.

Some like it hot.

2009-08-27T12:01:00.004-04:00

The other day I was making a fabulous pasta sauce to put on our ravioli. I opened the cupboard to grab the appropriate spices when something caught my eye - my cayenne pepper!!! It was completely INFESTED with flour beetles. I stood there for several minutes, examining the intricate tunnels leading up from the burrows filled with wiggly little white larvae. I could even see a few in the pupal stage. The surface of the cayenne was littered with empty exoskeletons, the sides of the glass streaked with beetle poo. Adults crawled to and fro amongst the debris, up to the lid (stupid flip top would never stay closed). Some had even relocated to the neighboring chili powder (this lid also refuses to stay closed). I wonder why they chose such spicy homes... The lid to the cinnamon won't stay closed either and there were no beetles in there... Hmmm... I stood pondering this until Becky demanded I throw it out because she was completely disgusted. As she probably should be. I am a nerd. But I'll have you know that flour beetles do not carry disease nor do they really do any harm! The End.

I don't have an appropriate photo for this...for once! So, here's a ladybug:

How did I get here?

2009-07-21T12:40:00.006-04:00

I had good intentions. I always did... And now I wonder how the hell I ended up here where I'm at.

It was a month-long road trip through the country of South Africa the summer before my senior year that gave me purpose. Away went my childhood vision of becoming a veterinarian and now I wanted to save the world. It's not to say that veterinarians don't have purpose - I am still quite fond of this profession. I just wanted to make some kind of global impact...I know it sounds like a lofty goal and I can assure it doesn't stem out of some sort of large ego. I don't know, somewhere along the line I got this idea that one should always extend themselves to the general benefit of humankind.

Anyway, aside from spectacular views, a collection of photos, several bottles of wine, and new friends and experiences, the most powerful thing I took back with me was the image of driving out of a small town that we stopped in for a travel break - the view of a cemetery with rows upon rows of fresh graves. There were three funerals going on simultaneously. AIDS. It hits the isolated towns the hardest with possibly half the population infected (a statistic from my professor, can not confirm with a source). I went home with a plan. I retook immunology, the bane of my college existence (I withdrew the first time), meeting moderate success the second time around. If only I knew then what I know now...

I graduated and applied for a job in HIV/AIDS research with my current employer. I was basically assured I had a position there, but it took a while to come through. Meanwhile I was broke and jobless and living rent-free in my family's unkempt log cabin in the woods on the side of a mountain in Harpers Ferry, West Va. My dog was my best friend. And my cousin, Kristen! And several spiders that I refused to evict because they were there first. Oh man, that was the life... Alas, my cousin left to return to school and a 95 year old German woman became my best friend. As you can imagine, I didn't have much in common with a 95 year old woman (and she always tried to feed me sausage). I got a little lonely.

Meanwhile, the job had finally come through. I was really doing this. I learned so much working in the lab on our HIV vaccine studies, I was quite happy for a while. I bought a house in Hagerstown. Why? I am still trying to figure this one out. I had to leave my green mountain home because my car wouldn't survive the winter commute up and down the mountain (learned the hard way). First, I got an apartment in Hagerstown at the suggestion of a boy I was dating (stupid boys) because it was cheaper. Then I guess I bought the house because I was convinced I was paying too much for the apartment (another suggestion from a different boy...dammit). Anyway, it seemed like a good idea at the time. And now I'm stuck.

It's making me rethink everything in my life. I have too much crap, my possessions are dragging me down. I have so many interests in alternative careers, but none of them will support this standard of living that I've created for myself by owning this house. I can't stand living in Hagerstown another day and there isn't a lot I can do about it until I sell this damn thing. On the other hand, I will not lie - I loved the freedom of painting every room a different color, creating my little inside oasis. But I am really missing the simplicity of renting, the feeling of impermanence and less obligation. Or maybe more just the type of life that goes with it. Maybe I should just go back to being jobless and living in the woods...

The Return of Mr. and Mrs. Duck

2009-03-11T18:25:00.006-04:00

The first time they came, I thought they were on their honeymoon - the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Duck, back from some sunny southern resort. I mean, don't ducks usually migrate in groups? I guess my backyard pool offered a more private layover than the overpopulated pond at City Park. Oh well, it was March and my pool was still in winter mode, so I didn't mind.

They came back every year. Sometimes they would hang around for a while...I guess they decided pool living was pretty damn good. They would take off when it was time to clean the pool out, only because of the disruption to their daily routine. Of course, within days they would return to the clean sparkling water...much to the boy's dismay. "THE GOD DAMN DUCKS ARE BACK!!!" he'd yell. I would turn and look out the window and smile. I know, I should have probably shared his concerned with the fact that they were shitting in our pool, but hey...isn't that what chlorine is for? Plus, they were usually gone by late June when I'm ready to get in (I am a wuss. It must be hot, hot, HOT outside. And the water must be like, 90 degrees, haha). By then, they were long gone. Back to their northern home, wherever it may be.

Anyway, somehow it didn't make me angry in the least. Quite the opposite, in fact. I liked Mr. and Mrs. Duck - so they came to be known. They were reliable. Even when the pool died and was resurrected, they returned. They didn't seem to mind that their home was now a shallower cheaper version of its former self. Always content were Mr. and Mrs. Duck. Life goes on...

And so this morning, I woke up like any other, bleary-eyed as I fed Quincy. I stumbled out onto the back porch to let him out and paused... There they were. Back in town and pleased as punch, circling around the murky winter pool water with their heads up and chests puffed out. I smiled and thought of two things:

1. In the midst of all the changes in my life during this past winter - good, bad, and wonderful - it is nice to know that some things NEVER change.

2. The force of nature is strong, like the force of love. I can not really explain either of the two, but they are undeniable and they must be intertwined. Even the skeptical scientist in me will admit that.

I am ok with not knowing how or why.

Inversion

2008-10-21T21:51:00.003-04:00

I've been thinking...

It's funny how you have to have your world turned upside-down sometimes to wake up. Like how it takes ridiculous gas prices for people to REALLY start talking about how to conserve energy, drive less, buy a more fuel-efficient car, etc. Sometimes it happens on your behalf...sometimes you have to make it happen.

I feel like I need this. I need to make a change, do something. Otherwise you end up frozen and stuck in the same routine. You end up tolerating your conservative asshole neighbors, you end up spending the rest of your life commuting to work, putting your recycling out only to have the dicks that pick it up carelessly litter the street, you end up stepping in poo just off your front porch, being forced to listen to AC/DC 6792569247562956 times a day (every day), Nascar at maximum volume and your drunken redneck neighbor drunkenly singing the NFL-induced Gary Glitter "hey" song every Sunday during football season. You end up trying to make a valiant effort by using your bike as a means for transportation only to have people in cars yell at you to get your "ass out of the fucking road". You end up with like 20 people at your roller derby bout (thanks friends and family!). You're still staring at big hair and acid-washed jeans...??

I can't do it anymore.

By the way, Chris Isaak makes me swoon.

Bye...

The Cheese Nazi

2008-05-08T11:29:00.003-04:00

Today was a day of injustice. YES. Injustice, abuse of power, and food rationing. And it's not even noon!

Ondraya and I went to Sheetz for lunch, as we do with a certain frequency since it's so close to work. I generally order the same thing every time - a cheese and veggie sub with lettuce, tomato, green pepper, pickles, black olives, oregano, pepper, salt, and mustard. Said sub comes with three kinds of cheese: provolone, swiss and american. I HATE american cheese with a passion (it's not even real cheese!), so I always verbally request that they substitute cheddar for the american. No problemo.

TODAY. Today was different. Today when I requested my cheddar for american substitution, I was told NO. What??? I stared at the old hag for a second.

"Why not?" I implored, wide-eyed and mystified.

"I can't do substitutions" she said plainly, unapologetically.

"Seriously??? I ALWAYS get cheddar instead of american" I said. This is a normal thing!!! What the hell??? I was starting to panic in my head - I fucking HATE american cheese!!!

"You have to get it the way it says," she replied. "Sorry". Oh, but she was definitely NOT sorry.

"FINE!" I yelled. "WHATEVER!!!!" You may not know this about me, but I am really mature. I mean, clearly.

I angrily stalked the aisles for something else to add to my lunch purchase while relaying the details of my injustice to Ondraya. I couldn't even find anything else I wanted. In a huff, I went to pay for my FUCKING sangwich. The hag called my number and Ondraya grabbed it and handed it to me as I finished paying.

I hoisted the wrapped sandwich high above my head.

"THANK YOU, CHEESE NAZI!!!!!" I yelled. And we left.

Trial and Error

2008-05-07T14:06:00.006-04:00

For all of my loyal poop story fans...

As I've written about many times before, work is never a pleasant place to poo. Let's face it, we'd rather take care of THAT business at home. I think we can all agree on that. In my office, we are lucky - we have a secret bathroom. It's like a pooping sanctuary...a true blessing considering that there are only two stalls in our regular womens bathroom. The only downside to the secret bathroom is that, while its good to have a mutual agreement with all of the office ladies that this is where the pooping occurs (some people have yet to catch on...grr...), if you are spotted entering this bathroom, everyone knows what you are likely doing there.

Now sometimes there are other reasons to use this bathroom - it's downstairs near both the front entrance and one of our conference rooms. So, you might be using this bathroom if you are in a meeting... You might also be using this bathroom if you are one of the ladies that takes walks during the day (this bathroom is also a locker/change room). Regardless, I feel its best not to allow people to wonder - so, I always use caution when approaching. I listen carefully for people in the hallway, as I do not want to be spotted entering or leaving the secret bathroom. I also listen for people IN the bathroom...because clearly when you go there to poo, you want to be alone.

Yesterday I had to poo at work. I tried to avoid it...but it quickly became impossible to ignore. I tiptoed down the stairs in super stealth mode...I peered up and down the hallway... I noticed there WAS a meeting going on in the small conference room, so I hurried to the door so as not to be spotted by anyone in attendance - I was golden. However, because I had to rush my entrance, it wasn't until I was IN the bathroom and the door shut behind me that I realized someone was there. *GASP*! It was our super adorable and wholesome receptionist who was freshening up after a walk. D'oh!!! What to do, what to DO... CRAP! I have no idea what I was thinking...but I just walked to the sink and washed my hands. Then I realized - no one in their right mind would actually believe that I had come all the way downstairs just to WASH MY HANDS - there's a bathroom AND a kitchen upstairs!!!! Gah! So I went into a stall, hoping she was on her way out. She ALSO went into a stall. NOOOOOOO!!! I couldn't do it. Not with her there. And I couldn't WAIT because she would totally know that I was waiting for her to leave. So I pissed, washed my hands again and left. FOILED.

About 30 minutes later I made another attempt. The receptionist's desk is right by the stairs, so there is no way I could have gone back down as soon as she came up! She would KNOW. So as I said, I gave it some time and went back down. The meeting was still going on, but other than that, the coast was CLEAR. Jackpot! I went in and did my thing, but in mid-wipe, I suddenly heard voices in the hallway...they were getting closer. "NOOOO," I thought, "Don't come in!" I had about a millisecond of relief when I realized it was a mans voice I was hearing but then it grew MUCH louder and I suddenly realized the bathroom door was open. OH MY GOD...A MAN WAS COMING IN THE WOMENS BATHROOM WHILE I WAS POOPING!!!! "What have I done to deserve this?!" I thought miserably. I was choking back a sob of frustration when as suddenly as it came, the voice disappeared... I guess he realized he was going in the wrong bathroom.

WHEW!!!!

Brightmare

2008-02-25T23:30:00.003-05:00

I once had a nightmare in which it was so bright outside that I couldn't open my eyes. I stumbled around blindly in broad daylight, my eyes squeezed shut and watering. I couldn't see where I was going, I couldn't find shade...there was nothing but light.

"I love your boobs!"

2007-12-20T11:11:00.000-05:00

So, I've just been enrolled in the Special Immunizations Program at Ft. Detrick because of some new projects coming in at work that will require me to work with even more crazy pathogens than I already do. As a courtesy of our US Army I'll now be taking limited and experimental vaccines as a precaution for working with select agents in the lab. Anyway, I went in for my preliminary physical and after peeing in a cup, having blood drawn, etc, they said that they had to do an EKG. So, they sent me down the hall where I was received by a very nice woman who took me into a small room and proceeded to tell me that I would have to undress completely from head to waist. Ok, no problem. I had to put on one of those paper shirts (open end in front!) so she could assault me with all the crazy stickies and wires necessary for the EKG. She left, I squirmed out of my shirt and bra, donned the lovely paper blouse, and laid back down. When she came in, she began to put the stickies all over my chest without much disturbing my paper clothing. However, when she had to connect everything, she was forced to invade that...*ahem* space. Still, I am not modest, so I was not concerned. But THEN...at the exact moment that she peels back my paper shirt, she exclaims, "Oh I love your boobs! They're so cute!" I froze...processing the comment...glanced side to side, searching for the hidden camera...then looked back up at her, no doubt with a very perplexed look on my face. "Oh, thanks..." I said, trailing off. I awkwardly looked away. A few moments later (which seemed like an eternity, of course), I looked down at my feet and then I realized...OHHHH, she said "BOOTS"!!!!!!!! Yeah, I was wearing my cherry rain boots. Duh, boots. Not boobs. I felt like an ass, but DAMN she could have said THAT at a better time. I mean, wow. I've received many comments on my boobs...but never that they are "cute", hahaha. Enormous, yes. Cute, no.

Poo Shoe

2007-10-07T14:41:00.001-04:00

Another poop story...shocking.

Apparently there is some sort of magnetic force that attracts dog poo to my feet. Seriously, how many times on average does a person step in poo? I just know that I am well above that average. It's already happened like three times this YEAR. And I would like to point out that these incidents never occur in my own yard. No my friends, it is always the fault of some asshole that has left their dog poo in public grasses (college soccer fields even!) for some poor soul like me to stumble upon. Yes, literally.

This time, however, I had the rare opportunity to acquire poo shoe INSIDE. Due to some drunken shenanigans I stayed in Frederick last night...at the house of a kind soul with a new pound puppy that is still making the transition into her routine. As a result, this dog is apparently having some accidents on the floor. Understandable. But tell me WHY, in a room of FOUR people drunkenly stumbling around in the dark, it is I who steps in the poo? I tell you, this was a decent sized room and there were two turds on the floor and they BOTH ended up on my shoe. Unbelievable.

I can only explain this as another testament to the the fact that wherever my shoe is, poo will find it.

Fat Kid Dreams

2007-09-09T16:18:00.000-04:00

This morning I had an incredibly vivid dream about cake. That's right, I'm such a fat kid that I dream about cake. For some reason (probably just because I'm awesome) my co-workers bought me a cake. It was quite lovely and huge, with multiple layers and lots of colorful icing. It was neither vanilla nor chocolate, but something much more exotic and delicious. Some sort of mocha or coffee cake? I carved out perfectly square pieces for all my co-workers. I saved a corner piece for myself because I love icing (again, fat kid). I can recall each delicious forkful of this dream cake. I remember the last bite was the best bite - the one with an appropriate amount of cake, but the largest portion of icing. I always thoroughly examine my food and decide which side to start eating from so that the part that appears to hold the best bite is saved for last. Right after that perfect last bite I woke up face-down in the largest pool of drool that I've ever produced in my sleep.

My life is so deep and meaningful; this is what I dream about.

That Guy

2007-06-01T11:34:00.001-04:00

Andrew and I went to see Sage Francis last night at the Rock and Roll Hotel in DC (same place where I participated in the Big Art Show). It ruled of course. Alias was pretty tight as well. Sage had a really good set which included most of my favorites from Personal Journals (best album!), good selections from A Healthy Distrust, and good new shit. I like the new CD a lot more after giving it a second listen. Oh, and he did Hey Bobby and I just about peed my pants with glee.

However there was a downside to the evening and that was...of course...THAT GUY. Why is "that guy" everywhere you go? Every show, every public event that is relatively crowded and involves the consumption of alcohol, "that guy" is there. On this particular evening "that guy" took the form of a 21-year-old with facial hair that otherwise resembled a gigantic fifth grader: tall, round, chubby face with a round button nose, shaggy bowl cut. He was an oafish fat drunken slob. I'm sorry, but it's true. To make matters worse, he was standing next to me, arms constantly waving in the air with an excess of enthusiasm, shouting every single lyric that Sage uttered the entire night. At one point, he seemed to have worn himself out and was standing next to me, loudly sucking air through his nose and then exhaling great breaths all over me. It was beyond disgusting...it was just weird. I almost wondered if he was doing it on purpose, it was so weird. Just amazing. I wonder what "that guy" does during the day? Is "that guy" always so annoying?

Reincarnation

2007-06-01T11:11:00.000-04:00

The pool is back...in another form. We thought we'd never have a pool again, but we were wrong. After realizing that above-ground pools are way more expensive than you think ($4,000 at best), we had all but given up hope. However, thanks to the divine intervention of Big Lots we now have a $230 soft-side pool that kicks almost as much ass as the last one. It's the same diameter, just a foot shallower. And it came with everything needed. Kickass. Thou shalt not be without a pool in the summer.

The Death of a Swimming Pool

2007-05-25T09:58:00.000-04:00

It's gone. Our beloved pool is really gone.

See this for details.

We'll miss you, Pool. Thanks for the memories...

Switching Teams

2007-05-22T12:16:00.000-04:00

I think I'm done with laboratory research.

All through grade school I rode the fence between the right and left hemispheres of my brain. I was always making things, writing, and doing artwork all the while acing math and science (ok, we can exclude physics from that statement).

I spent most of my college career nurturing the left side of my brain, majoring in biology and minoring in entomology. I memorized amino acids, mammals, cell cycles, cytokines and more. I cultured bacteria, trapped and ear-tagged wild mice, caught and identified insects (let's be honest, though - my insect collection WAS the most colorful one in the class). But now, like the return of a faded memory, I can feel my right brain demanding attention. This probably explains the thousands of photos I've produced in the last year or so, haha.

As many of you know, I went to South Africa during the summer before my senior year of college. I returned with some new friends, a new love of photography, and a new purpose. I decided to work in the fight against HIV and AIDS. That's what led me to my current job, which I used to adore...when I actually WAS working on HIV studies. For this and a lot of other reasons that I won't go into right now (because I AM still working here, after all), I think it's time to move on. I want something more community oriented, something in public health perhaps... I think what I loved most about research was working with my hands and for a cause. Without the latter, the former isn't much. It's time for a change...

I just can't believe it...

2007-04-17T10:40:00.000-04:00

I can't believe what I've been hearing and seeing. How could this happen at Virginia Tech, where I went to school? It's a big school, but it's such a small town... I'm sure I'd be shocked and sad if it'd been anywhere else; I know this impacts everyone everywhere, but being affiliated with the school just makes it so intense. Seeing the very buildings I knew so well, the paths I walked every day, the familiarity of the scene flooded by police, panic, and gunfire...it was so bizarre and sad. I can't believe all the things we did there, all of the good memories, all of the things the school has done... and now it will be known for this. I can't imagine how students will just go back to class...

I Pooped in Canada

2007-04-10T12:09:00.000-04:00

This blog is long overdue. We've been back for almost a week and half and I haven't written about our trip.

Andrew and I went to visit Brooke and Evan in Ann Arbor, MI. Obviously we had the best time ever. We saw lots of Ann Arbor and the surrounding area, we hung out downtown, we checked out the food co-op, we went to thrift stores, we putzed around the science museum, and most importantly - we went to all the brewpubs and beer bars. We also got to do some house hunting with our realtor, which is great because I love looking at houses, nosing around in people's stuff, and making fun of their terrible decor.

Also, I can now finally say that I've been to Canada. The four of us headed to Detroit on Friday to check out the art museum and another brewpub. After we ate and had a few beers, we joked about Canada and the terrible "brewpub" that Brooke and Evan went to across the way in Windsor. They went there one weekend, thinking it'd be cool and it turned out to be a giant Canadian dive bar that makes ONE SHITTY BEER. They do have lots of bottled goodies, though. Well. We had time. I'd never been to Canada. I wanted to go, dammit! I don't know what I expected - I guess I pictured a paradise in contrast to the disappointment that is Detroit.

So, we decided to go for it. I'm way more excited than I probably should be as we're flying across the border. I giggle with glee when the speed limit signs in the tunnel change from miles per hour to kilometers. I guess I'm as excited as any liberal American fleeing the country. We arrive in Windsor and...it's not really that bad, but...it's...kind of like Hagerstown...but with French AND English signs. There's just not too much to do or see. But as we're cruising the area, I spy...SALVATION ARMY!!! Oh Canada, I could drink a case of you! After much grumbling, I convince Evan that we NEED to go there. I mean, Andrew and I make a point to track down thrift stores wherever we go, so to stumble upon one unexpectedly in CANADA...it's like destiny, if I believed in it. So we check it out and I found a few cool things before I was [literally] dragged out of the store. Then we found our way to the "brewpub". Charlies, I think it was called.

It wasn't a dump, but it was pretty dive. The staff was super nice, though. They gave us samples of their terrible beer and then we ordered bottled beer. They had a Jamaican stout that I'd never had before, so I got that - it was quite delicious. We sat around and shot the shit and I winced every time Evan loudly tacked "eh?" onto the end of his sentences and prayed we didn't get our asses kicked by angry Canadian rednecks. The boys went to view the brewing equipment while Brooke and I were left to be ogled by a drunk Canadian. I finished up my beer and then I felt it - my bowels were turning. I had to go. I think you know what the greatest accomplishment of the day was: that's right, I POOPED IN CANADA! And then we went home. Really, that was it.

The next day was the end of our trip - we wrapped it up with a trip to Kuhnhenn brewpub near Detroit...and man, did that ever kick arse. We had a super adorable and nice bartender and their beers are really fabulous. Very tasty and experimental. Among the best were the banana stout, the unfiltered apricot ale, the tangerine wit, and the simco silly. Then we went home. The end.

Soundtrack for the trip was the new Modest Mouse album which totally rules. I felt the need to comment on that since I don't think it left the stereo the whole week. Awesome.

Oh, also I'd like to comment on how much I love Ann Arbor. Everything is colorful...even the alleyways.

Best Weekend Ever

2007-04-02T12:51:00.000-04:00

I have the greatest stories ever from about a week ago. Andrew was moving all his furniture into the house and we were getting ready to go on our trip to visit Brooke and Evan in Michigan...

So, I was home most of Saturday cleaning and making space and getting things ready for our trip when I hear a knock at the door. I rush to the top of the stairs only to look down and see...my next-door neighbor . "DAMMIT!", I thought as I ran down to answer (I really just wanted to ignore him and wait for him to go away). I walk outside to talk to him - because ya know, we have this agreement that involves never crossing each other's thresholds. He greets me in his grumbly way and then he pauses...obviously stalling.

"So, this might sound like a weird question coming from your neighbor," he finally says, "......but......you got any porn?"

WHAT?! Some peoples' neighbors come over wanting to borrow sugar...mine come over asking to borrow PORN. What the hell??? At first I didn't know what to say. In fact, I wasn't sure if I even had any porn. Sometimes Andrew brings funny ones home from the pawn shop to giggle over...but we usually fast-forward through them and laugh and then he takes them back. We exchanged some lame and awkward conversation as I pondered the existence of porn in my home, but suddenly I remembered...

"Wait just a minute," I said with an evil grin. I dodged back into my house and reappeared with......Buffy the Vampire Layer. Oh yes! You know it. And I still haven't gotten it back.

***

The next day Andrew moved a bunch of his furniture in. He has a big computer desk armoire that is just about dead. The used furniture place wouldn't take it, so he put it in the alley behind my house, in front of my garages (they are detached and open into the alley) with the intention of moving it in later on. He also left an old beat up armchair there. Not even two hours later I was coming back from the park with Quincy and as I came up through the alley I saw a pair of legs sticking out from behind the armoire. Someone was sitting in the chair! As I got closer I had to try SO hard not to laugh - it was an old man, red-in-the-face drunk holding a can of Steel Reserve. Where the hell did he come from and why was sitting on this chair in the alley?! To top it off, he swayed in the chair and embraced Quincy, saying "Ohhhh!!! He must be a champion!!! How much did you pay for him???" Apparently he didn't notice Quincy's man-boob and the fact that he is the saddest example of his breed ever. I mean, I think he's the most beautiful dog ever, but he's a terrible dalmatian, hahaha. He was still talking to me, leaning in the chair as I rounded the corner...

So that weekend was just full of good stories. Good times, good times...

When I...

2007-03-14T18:32:00.000-04:00

I have decided what I want to be when I grow up. I want to be a photographer/writer/vintage clothing store owner. And perhaps I'd like to run a no-kill animal shelter as well.

Seriously. Why can't I make as much doing those things as I do at my salary job? Maybe I can...? I don't know...who can afford to take the plunge? I don't need or want a lot of money. Really. Just enough to get by like I do right now is pretty ok.

I hate my job right now. I think I'd stick with research if I could find a job researching something I'm interested in. They pulled the HIV/AIDS rug out from under me at my current place of employment and left me with only biodefense work...I believe I've written about this already and I am not interested in working for the redundant department of redundancy, so I'll leave it at that. I'm tired.

Guilty

2007-03-06T13:36:00.000-05:00

I am totally guilty of the silliest thing ever. I have a celebrity crush. I know, it's stupid and pointless, but I can't help it. It doesn't happen very often - and no disrespect to my former celebrity crushes, John Cusack and Edward Norton, but after seeing Ryan Gosling in Half Nelson I think I'd pretty much have all of his babies. I've seen him in other films before...a few which I thought were excellent, but for some reason he particularly struck me in this role - definitely worthy of his Oscar nomination. He has this way of producing a certain expression on his face, this hurting and embarrassed, yet knowing puppy dog look that gives you butterflies in your tum. One scene in particular keeps playing through my mind...I won't spoil it if you haven't seen it, but the scene was pretty moving in general and that look on his face solidified it. Alright alright, I'm done. I'll stop this 13 year old nonsense now. ;-)

Underwear? What underwear? I don't see any underwear...

2007-02-27T16:22:00.000-05:00

So, one day last week (Friday...maybe Thursday) I came home to find a pair of my underwear lying shredded on the floor. The poor things...they were so dejected - damp, limp, completely fragmented. Aaaaand the crotch was basically missing.

"QUINCY!!!" I shook them at him at his face in dismay as he cowered to the floor with guilt. "VERY BAD!!!" And then I pretty much forgot about it. They were just a regular ol' cotton pair. I wasn't very attached to them...they weren't new. They mostly served the purpose of being workout/period undies.

Quincy doesn't usually chew things like that up anyway. I think he's just got a little cabin fever, as it was very icy out last week, on top of the snow. We didn't get out much.

Saturday morning rolls around and we got up, I fed him his breakfast, let him out. An hour or so later, he puked. Then he puked again. Later he puked a third time, but it was only water. I wasn't too concerned...and then he was fine for the rest of the day. That night, well after dark, I let him out in the back yard. He came back in and immediately squatted down to wipe his arse on the rug, like he had a dangler.

Dammit, Quincy!!! I picked him up and pushed him back out the door to let him "work the situation out". I turned around and noticed a huge wet shit smear on the carpet. Grrrrrreat. Luckily this is just the ugly porch carpet. I turn around and he's still out there, helplessly half-squatted by the bottom of the stairs, looking up at me. I sighed and grabbed some paper towels and went to assess the situation... Yup, there was the crotch of my underwear, now covered in shit and dangling from his butt by a long thread of trim. I pulled it out and took him in and cleaned him up with baby wipes.

The next morning he was puking AGAIN. I thought maybe he was just sick because the day before we had been out wandering the fields by Andrew's parents' house and he'd had several helpings of deer shit and grass. So, I didn't feed him breakfast and he didn't seem to mind, which means he was really feeling bad. I felt sorry for him and let him snuggle with me on the bed. Then, about mid-day I let him out and watched him go potty in the snow. Then he takes a few wobbling steps and bends over and totally ralphs a big wad of something into the snow. I went out once again to assess Quincy's digestive woes. I poke at it with my boot toe...and a very nice, new looking Victoria's Secret tag comes into view. I poke further. It is an entire - WHOLE, BARELY CHEWED - pair of nice, new Victoria's Secret underwear...no longer the lovely blue they once were, but now a pukey brownish turquoise green color. Dammit Quincy! I really liked that pair!!! So, the sad things is...it doesn't end here...I pick up the dejected and partially digested pair of panties and carry them inside where I hopelessly try rinsing them off to see if there's any chance of salvaging them at all. Yes folks, in my grieving state, I actually thought I would wash them and wear them again. It was then that I realized there were a few tiny holes in them... All hope was lost. Oh, Quincy...

Overheard

2007-02-16T09:13:00.000-05:00

I have no food at home. Nothing for breakfast but some cereal that hate. Alas, I'm standing at the Sheetz food station, patiently awaiting my shmagel...visions of cream cheese and toasty goodness dancing through my head. A man approaches the counter next to me. Very southern manicured-looking - middle-age, tall and thin, blue-eyed, clean shaven with sandy blonde hair combed back in that redneck pompadour style. He waves at the woman behind the counter.

"Hey [ladies name that I forgot], how you doin' darlin'?" He drawls, courteously.

"Hey! I'm good, honey. How 'bout you?" she twangs.

"Oh, pretty good," he says. "Well, I'm pretty...and I'm good." He winks and chuckles and then turns away. I nearly choked on my hot chocolate! I glanced around with frantic amusement. Please tell me someone else heard that, I thought. Not a soul... Oh Hagerstown...

Frozen

2007-01-25T11:38:00.000-05:00

I don't know if it's the winter depression finally setting in (now that it finally feels like winter) or what, but I feel so...frozen. Stuck. Immobile. I can't get anything done. I can't get motivated. I can't make any decisions. I stand butt nekkid in my room every morning for about 10-15 minutes, staring at the various sorted piles of clean and dirty clothing and wish a shirt would fly up from the floor and demand that I wear it.

The only way I can make any decisions is to do so spontaneously and then stick to it like Quincy to his foodbowl at dinner time. Like when wrote Toddy two weeks ago and informed him that I was coming to visit last weekend. I don't know what I would have done if he said he was busy or wasn't going to be around. I probably would have still driven down there and stood outside his house. And today I randomly decided to commit to TWO big art shows - one in B-more and one in DC. I have no idea if I have anything to do those weekends, but I didn't get into the last one, so this is my chance. Ugh, and now I have to decide if I want to convert my term life insurance plan to a permanent one and lock in at a good rate (and largely increase my monthly payment) or if I want to wait. One should not have to decide such things at the age of 26. It just isn't right!

I also can't get anything done at work. There's so much to do that it's intimidating and all I can seem to do is a little bit here and there plus a lot of bullshitting and procrastinating. With the exception of getting to hang out with my work friends, I really don't even like working here anymore. There are a lot of reasons for that...I won't get into them right now. Quite honestly, all I want to do these days is hang out at home and work on photo stuff.

Beh, ok I'm off to buy my cousin a gift card last-minute for his birthday...which is tomorrow.

I'm just a curbside prophet with a turd in my pocket...

2007-01-16T07:09:00.000-05:00

On Sunday, Andrew and I went to the Common Market in Frederick before my soccer game. We're standing in line, waiting for the cashier to finish scanning our groceries. I'm fidgeting my hands around inside the front pocket of my hoodie when suddenly I felt a small treasure fall into my right hand. I pulled it out to see what it was... It was a turd. A guinea pig turd in my pocket. Actually it was half a guinea pig turd in my pocket - old and dry with hairs and fuzzies stuck to it. One can only guess how it got there. It really makes you wonder...doesn't it...?

Thanksgiving

2006-11-25T12:31:00.000-05:00

I went through the motions - the house was cleaned, I spent the day cooking and for some reason felt compelled to glance at the Macy's parade on TV periodically. This is what people do on Thanksgiving, right?? I don't know, my vegan menu was already boasting a "fuck you" to tradition, what do I care?

I smiled when I saw my sister's face at the door. Then there were my parents. They came without hugs. We fussed over the animals and over getting the rest of the food heated and set out.

We stared and chewed. We talked about the food. My sister and I exchanged retarded faces. Let's be honest, she's the only thing fun about family time. Recently, I've come to realize that I have no idea who my parents are. I don't know what they do, I don't know what they like. I have a theory that neither of them really like anything at all. I guess when I was younger, I thought all this was normal. If one of them died today, I would have no idea what to say about them at their funeral. "Mom went to church a lot...she really liked reading books...And she liked the color purple..." It bothered me for a while...but it really didn't motivate me to "talk" to them or spend more time with them. I think I've realized...I really don't care. I'm serious. Maybe I'm a terrible person, but I prefer to blame them. You get what you give, ya know?

So, we stuffed our faces and sat around making more lame conversation, just waiting for the moment when we'd have room for pie. Pie. Coffee.

They left without hugs.

Thanksgiving is silly. But I do like cooking and eating lots.

Someone Else's Shoes

2006-11-21T10:04:00.000-05:00

I am a thrift store whore. Most of you know this about me. I believe in recycling, that one person's junk is another's treasure. I also believe in buying second-hand as a way of being less of a mass consumer, avoiding industry that employs sweatshops, takes advantage of people, etc. Also, I am cheap.

But sometimes, you get what you pay for...

Over the weekend Andrew and I were browsing one of the Goodwills in Frederick. I was wandering around the shoe section when I suddenly found myself in front of a badass pair of Chucks. I freaking loooooove me some Chuck Taylors. I have several pairs already, in the hopes of one day being the proud owner of a rainbow-like display of Chucks in various colors and patterns. These were nice and worn in, pink with red hearts all over them. Awesomely girly. I checked the size: one size too big, but I tried them on, they felt fine. I already have one pair that's too big and they really aren't that bad. Plus I have midget feet anyway, so a size larger actually looks normal on me. I snagged them and walked up to Andrew with a cheesy grin and held them up, beaming over my find. Four bucks later, they were mine.

So, this morning I decide it's time to bust them out. I'm all excited. I put my left foot in and laced it up. Awesome. I put my right foot in and...what the crap?! It feels all huge and weird. I look at the bottoms. THEY ARE TWO DIFFERENT SIZES!!!!! What the hell?! Who buys shoes in two different sizes?! I was SO bitter. But you know what? They are awesome and I'm not giving up on them. Yes, I wore them anyway. I'm that freaking ghetto. So I'm currently wearing one shoe that is a size too big and one that's TWO sizes too big. Beat that.

You can never be too pure or too connected.

2006-11-16T10:03:00.000-05:00

So, I've decided what I want to be when I grow up. I want to do photography for half of my weekly working hours and spend the other half getting paid to collect and stare at bugs all day. I think this is totally realistic. No?

Man, it's been raining for DAYS. It's starting to get depressing. Poor Quincy is restless.

Hmm...ok, that's really about all I have to say.

Harmacy

2006-11-15T09:57:00.000-05:00

I drove through the most insane fog on the way to work this morning. It was like all the land in Washington and Frederick counties was protesting the warmth of the air for this time of year. Thick white fog that went on for miles.

I dragged myself out of my car and shuffled my way towards the building, my head feeling as cloudy as the drive in. I hate my job. I've become another self-loathing, job-hating American. Exactly what I swore I'd never be. It didn't start out this way. I used to love my job, I used to care about it. I even felt excited and passionate about it. But, things changed... I came here to work on HIV, I wanted to make a difference, to do something I cared about. Our workload is different now...we lost a big government contract for some unknown reason. We no longer have any HIV vaccine studies, only studies for monkeypox (for biodefense, better smallpox vaccines, etc). Sure, I think we need a better/safer smallpox vaccine, but suffice it to say I'm a little less than passionate about finding one. I'm just no longer doing what I came here to do. And on top of that, there's a personal conflict with someone that is driving me insane. It's time to leave. I need a new job, a new place, new things to do. But, these things don't happen overnight...

In the meantime, I'm trying to embrace the cold, searching daily for jobs in Ann Arbor, gazing at the house I'm in love with there, and trying to figure out what I want out of my next job and life in general.

Election

2006-11-08T17:07:00.000-05:00

Election day came and went. I voted, of course. (Hey, lots of people don't.) Though I'm quite happy with the Maryland and national results, I have to say I'm pretty ashamed to be a Virginian today. I can't believe the Virginia Marriage Amendment passed! Well...I guess I can, but it's still disappointing. Bad Virginia, bad!

Empty

2006-11-07T14:59:00.000-05:00

I feel like I'm in slow motion. Like I'm detached from the world and this day. Maybe it's the weekend catching up with me. I don't know why it was so upsetting for me, I barely knew her. But, I know my friend...and I know I feel sad for him...and I know what it's like to watch someone very close to you slip away, slowly and quietly in illness. I know it's silly to feel apologetic for being sad, like I don't have a right to my feelings.

Sunday was the hardest...watching people mill about the room, unsure what to say or do... Looking at photos, viewing someone's life from beginning to end, from baby to child, to girl, to woman, to mother. I was no better than the rest. Probably worse... I could have said something instead of just being there, but what is there to say...?

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

2006-10-04T15:20:00.000-04:00

It's been one of those weeks. Busy and full of a roller coaster of emotions. Sorry to have to roll it all into one, but I'll try to keep it relatively short.

::The Bad::
Bad news first, of course. So...after all this worrying about the art show...I didn't get in. I got an email regarding the show with the list of artists and...I wasn't on it. Apparently they had a lot of artists register and it came down to an issue of first-come, first-serve. I registered relatively late, I guess. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it for financial reasons and scheduling conflicts. You'd think they'd tell you when it was full, but no. I registered, thought it was on, told all my friends, and got all excited. *sigh*

::The Ugly::
My face has officially become an unavoidable disaster. I don't know why I'm having this much trouble with my skin at the age of 25. I've never had great skin...and it's usually not this bad. Just in the last couple of months...seems like it decides to completely spazz out every couple of years. Yesterday was my long-awaited appointment with my dermatologist. I'm going to take an antibiotic for about a month (which I hate, but at least it will make things better fast) and try yet another topical. I'm not even sure why I'm writing about this really...I just hate going to the doctor and even more I hate talking about my skin and getting upset around strangers. I don't know, I feel ugly and it fit into the title, so there it is.

::The Good::
Saving the best for last. Saturday was Brooke and Evan's wedding - a glorious and fun so-happy-you-cried kinda day. Despite the fact that I was in the bridal party, I still managed to take a million pictures, which was great. I had a blast. There really isn't much else to say except congratulations to two of the bestest and cutest people I know. I don't want you to move to Michigan!!! But hopefully it won't be long until Andrew and I make it up there, too. The time in between will be sad and double anti-unfun, though. =/

Panic

2006-09-26T13:13:00.000-04:00

I've started panicking. I don't have a good name for my photography. I don't have a website, except for flickr. I'm trying to design my own online portfolio and it's not working. I know what I want it to look like and it's not complicated, I just can't quite get the html down. I've done websites before, but my html skills are incredibly basic. Then, I'm staring at the logo I created and...it's fucking LAME. Not the image, but the title. Photography by Jocelyn. How fucking BORING. So that's when it it hit me that I need something better. I can't come up with anything catchy or cool that isn't stupid. Grr!!! I'm trying to inspire myself with things in my life...maybe something having to do with Quincy (my dalmatian, for those of you that don't know me)...nothing is standing out to me. *sigh*

I'm really getting stressed about this art show. I know it's going to be pretty DIY, nothing fancy, but I still have to make a bunch of prints and frame some of them. There's also a lot of things that I want to have done by then, like the website...maybe some info cards. Not really necessary, but it would probably be good to have something to give people that are interested. The other thing that's really getting to me is the stress of going, having people walk by my photos, show no interest or criticize them. I'm not very good at separating criticism of the things I do from criticism of ME. I'm really interested in getting into the art scene, trying to make something of the photos I take (as a productive hobby on the side), but suffice it to say, I'm feeling very small right now...

Lame

2006-09-23T23:22:00.000-04:00

So I'm planning on doing an art show in Baltimore in October. I'm scared shitless. I foresee cool Baltimore art kids shuffling past my display of photos and not buying a damn thing. Ok, I really don't care if anyone buys anything or not... But it would be nice, considering that I just bought $100 worth of frames at A.C. Moore (huge sale!). I haven't signed up yet...but I bought the freaking frames so now I have to. Dammit.

It's Saturday, October 14th:

• BIG ART SHOW BALTIMORE #1 •
Saturday, October 14th @ Ottobar - 2549 North Howard Street - Baltimore, MD 21218
Doors @ 7 or 8 (? - flyer says one thing, website another) ~ $5 cover
http://bigartshow.com/events.html

So come; point and laugh at me while the cooler artier city kids sink my battle ship. Ha, I jest...but I'm really trying to make something of this hobby that I love...but I'm not a good judge of my own work and I'm not very good at selling my photos. I can't really imagine why anyone would want to hang my crap on their wall anyway (at least not if they have to pay for it). Sometimes I feel like my stuff is so effin' lame... People always joke on Flickr about how tired they are of seeing dog photos and cat photos. Ironically I seem to really excel at those. No, of course that's not all I do...just engaging in a little self-abuse.

Gone

2006-09-13T10:04:00.000-04:00

Summer is officially over. I've pulled a cardigan on before leaving my house for the last two days in a row. Did I just use the word "cardigan"? I must be getting old. I've shut my bathroom window and I've started closing the door when I shower to keep the heat in. It seems so sudden... Last year it stayed warm forever... I'm not ready for the cold this year. I need someone to check out my steam ducts in the basement. One has rusted through the padded insulation. Hoping it hasn't actually rusted through the metal... Sometimes home ownership can be a real bitch.

On the up side...I really do like fall. Much more than I used to. It seems so peaceful...yet so full of anticipation. A strange seasonal limbo between the hot and cold. I like the sharpness of the air when it's cool, but not too cold. I like the colors of the leaves. I like apples and corn. I loooove Halloween. I like how the changing seasons make me feel like exploring - like everything I knew is suddenly different. It gets me out and about more. It's good.

Worst blogger ever...

2006-09-11T11:58:00.000-04:00

Hmm...when I started this blog, I thought I'd be constantly full of wit and have fun stories and interesting things to say on a daily basis...or at least something close to that. Guess I was wrong.

Well, it's the five year anniversary of the 9/11 tragedy. I think the mood of the day was pretty much established when I walked out to my car in the drizzling rain and dropped my leftovers in the street while fumbling with my keys. The container cracked and I watched my soup run out into the street. *sigh*

I'm not one to feel unified under such circumstances...I've never considered myself to be very patriotic...save for a brief period in my youth when I would annoy the crap out of my dad by constantly singing patriotic songs every time we got in the car. Hey, he bought me that Wee Sing America book/cassette. His fault. No, I usually root for the underdog...which is rarely the great United States of America. I still have strange feelings about this day five years ago. Where was I at the time? I was sitting in my Entomology class wondering where my professor was. This was actually later in the morning - in all actuality I was probably making breakfast or getting ready for the day when the planes struck in NYC. I had no idea what had taken place. I rode my bike to class just like any other day. It was probably right around this time the plane hit the Pentagon. Our TA came in and announced that Dr. Fell wouldn't be in class. His morning flight had been cancelled because of "the planes in New York." What? "Some planes crashed into the World Trade Center this morning." Huh? I was bewildered. I remember feeling concern and curiosity - what was really going on?

I rode home after a short class. When I shut the door Lindsay ran out from her room crying. "Did you hear?!"

"I heard some planes crashed in New York? What's going on?" I asked.

"Jocie, it's awful! Come see!"

I followed her back to her room and sat on her bed, my eyes fixed on the news. My jaw dropped. I watched the video of the one smoking tower. I watched the other plane hit the second tower. People were jumping from the windows. I actually watched people fall to their death. I watched the towers crumble and fall. The tears were running down my face. My stomach lurched. Then she told me about the Pentagon. I remember she was trying desperately to get ahold of her dad because he worked on Capitol Hill and she was worried about him. I tried to call my mom, who was working at the CIA building in Langly, VA. We couldn't get through. I didn't know how to feel. I felt sad. I felt shocked. I felt sorry for all those people, for their families. I felt sorry for our country. But, I didn't feel angry. People had their theories at the time, but I didn't feel angry. It was tragic.

I hate the sensationalism behind the tragedy. I hate that people refer to it as the 9/11 "terrorist attacks". I hate that this and similar incidents are called "terrorism", but war is "war". War is only terrorism that is announced and made official. Is our military occupation of other countries not terrorism? Is the presence of American troops on Muslim holy ground not terrorism in their eyes? Is it not terrorism when fear is instilled into American minds by our own president making "them" out to be the bad guys? It wasn't senseless - they had reasons. I'm not excusing the attacks...I'm just saying that people are angry on all sides. In our own sadness and anger, in our shock that such an event actually occurred in OUR country for once, let's not forget that people elsewhere have suffered terrorisim at the hands of the U.S. And let's not forget that there are things our government has done to create this situation. It isn't one-sided. Think about where you direct your anger. Think about how we got where we are.

Fall-ing

2006-08-24T15:10:00.000-04:00

The days are already getting shorter... It's hard to wake up in the morning without a little bit of light peeking in through the blinds.

The other day I was walking back from the shopping center behind my house after running some errands. The bags were heavy in my hands, but I enjoyed it. I like not relying on my car to get me where I need to go. If only that shopping center had more of the things I need/want on a regular basis...

The warm wind whistled as it blew over the top of the bottle of diet green tea cola that I was drinking. I didn't think diet green tea cola would be any good...and actually, it was kinda bad...in a good way. It made perfect sense in my head. I looked up and took in all the familiar sights on my walk - the row of houses that line my street, the church, the football field and track, the schools, the park. I will miss these things if I leave.

There was a man walking towards me. I smiled at him as he walked by...but he just kept his head down and stared at the ground. I don't know why people here tend to be so unfriendly.

I think I'm ready to go. I'll enjoy the last few weeks of summer, but I'm ready for a change.

Masturbation Station

2006-08-22T09:37:00.000-04:00

Note: I wrote this from a comical perspective, though I must admit that the incident was quite disturbing to me. The ending is only dramatic speculation, but it's true.

I went running this morning before work. Dawn was breaking and just 10-15 minutes into the run it was light out. I'm always wary when I run at this time of day. Even though it's light out, there aren't very many people out at 6:30am - nobody to come to the rescue if something happens, nobody to witness a crime. I know I sound paranoid, but these are the thoughts I have - I can't help that I've heard too many stories about female joggers becoming victims.

I took the usual route through neighborhoods to city park, curving around the right side of the park and then up by the baseball field. I saw a few people here and there on the way, walking dogs, eating breakfast in their cars (people do this at city park...I don't know why), etc. As I came down the hill to the other side of the park I saw that it was deserted, save for a big black truck with a cab over the back that was parked in the lot. As I ran by it, it moaned and clicked as if it had just been turned off...but there was nobody in it. My senses were heightened and I scanned the edge of the park for the owner. I wasn't concerned at this point, just feeling the need to be hyper-aware of my surroundings - something about being alone by a recently vacated car without seeing the driver set me into this mode.

I spotted him, about 30 feet away - there he was leaning with his back against a big boulder, feet relatively close together, knees spread wide out. I thought he was stretching, that he was another runner preparing for a jog. I half-smiled at him, still wary. Then I noticed where his hands were...the movement... He was "stretching" with his pants around his ankles. Just having a go at himself! He was looking directly at me, eyes steady, seeing me without reacting. I averted my eyes, head forward, down, picked up the pace. I glanced behind me several times as I exited the park.

I don't know whether or not the exhibitionist type person that masturbates in public is also the kind of person to stalk and rape young female joggers, but behind my shock and amusement, I was a little scared. I imagined him running after me and after I'd gotten away from the park, I pictured him hopping into his big black truck and following me to my house. I calmed down as I got further away, but I still kept glancing behind me, all around me.

I finally arrived back at my street where I stopped to walk the rest of the distance to my house. I was sure that I was just being paranoid about this guy following me. I sighed as I grabbed my empty trash can from the sidewalk. But, as I turned to drag it up onto my porch I looked up just in time to see a big back truck roar past the house.

Golden Showers

2006-08-17T11:32:00.000-04:00

So, I'm dogsitting my friend's miniature dachshund for a week. Chip's actually been really easy to take care of - small, slightly less yippy than the last time I watched him, snuggly, etc. All he wants to do is cuddle with me, which makes him quiet and content, which makes ME happy. He does, however, have a slight piddling problem - the whole submissive peeing thing that is common in weenie dogs. Usually it's not too bad - just a little dribble or two when you come home and let him out of his kennel. I don't really care and he can't help it anyway, so it's not worth worrying about - I just try to keep him from jumping on me when I let him out of the kennel.

The other day I had taken him outside and then put him in his kennel because I had to run an errand. I just walked to the shopping center behind my house for some things. I couldn't have been gone more than 30-45 minutes. So, I did my thing then came back and let him out of the kennel. He was all excited, so I leaned down and pet him and I was sure that if he had to piddle, he would have done it then. I walk into the next room and he follows me and is still wanting me to give him attention, so I lean down, pick him up and lift up into the air in front of me and I'm all like, "Aww weenie, what's the ma-" and then I saw it coming...it was like in slow motion, but there was nothing I could do. A stream of piddle was flying at my face. It splashed all over my cheek and IN MY FREAKING MOUTH. I squealed, but other than that, I actually reacted pretty calmly. I believe there was actually a moment when I attempted to characterize the taste, but obviously that didn't last long. I set him down gently and then proceeded to run to the bathroom gagging and spitting and laughing hysterically. I washed my face immediately (piss on the face kinda burns) and even washed my own mouth out with soap and then brushed my teeth twice. At this moment Andrew comes home and I'm all gagging and laughing hysterically in the bathroom. I attempt to tell him what happened through my laughter and tears (the funny kind of tears). I don't think he found it quite as funny as I did...actually I think he was pretty grossed out. And then he wouldn't kiss me. Pfft, I don't know why...

Well, well, well...

2006-08-16T10:04:00.000-04:00

Let the blogging begin! I really hate the word blog. Ah well, what can ya do? That's what the kids are calling it these days. Technically I already have one on MySpace. I don't know why I felt the need to start this one... I wanted better design, I wanted it to be the focus of the page, and I'm getting kinda tired of MySpace. I don't know, I have this thing about compartmentalizing everything. I'm not at all organized or anything like that. I just like when things serve a specific purpose and that's that. Keep it simple. I take a lot of photos and have a site on Flickr, but I thought the blog would be a nice way to apply the photos to daily life. Some of my photography is about art, some is just about capturing the moment, documenting life. So, this is my life in words and images. Hello.