lights will guide you home, and illuminate your bones...

New essay up soon on dad's website... about my current obsession with lists and my eternal obsession with LeVar Burton...

Went to see Young at Heart by myself in Boulder tonight. Didn't feel very well, didn't really have the heart to go to the Tivoli by myself, so I just stayed in town. The movie was really odd-- the filmmaking was terrible, the story was bittersweet but also odd in itself. I wish it had been a little more lovingly made... every shot was from 7" above the person being interviewed, or down on the floor looking up, or at an unflattering (almost fisheye) close-up. Most of the movie was handheld and out of focus, and the twerpy filmmaker narrated it himself, giving the whole production a high-pitched, effeminate, rather nervous feel.
The old folks singing punk music, on the other hand, was interesting.
Fred Knittle, the man who sang "Fix You" by Coldplay, made me cry on my pink coat. It was such a sweet scene. He had a beautiful voice and a delightful sense of humor, and I will remember him for a long time. I wish he was my friend. (a sweet video of him singing in his house: http://www.vh1.com/video/play.jhtml?id=1584620&vid=222197)


After the movie got out, I was starting to lose my voice,and I felt really out of sorts... walked next door and bought Mozart's Requiem and Beethoven's 'Egmont'. I drove around in the dark singing along to requiem, even though it still sounded all sinus-infectiony from a few weeks ago... and rain was hitting my windshield in big fat drops. The countryside is so dark out here... the little farm houses that run East along Jay Road were all dark except for the flicker of televisions. It made me wonder if I would ever feel scared going up a long dirt driveway into such a dark house on cool, eerie spring nights like this.

Not much to report except a general feeling of too much energy, and almost no energy at the same time.
I copped out and made a frozen pizza for dinner.
It was surprisingly delicious. Finally, a frozen pizza that turns out crunchy and pizza-tasting.

Babbling.
Off to bed.
Maybe I can drink healthy tea in my sleep and wake up fully restored.

Cheers to all my sleeping friends tonight-- may your pillows be soft, and your dreams be sweet.

10ks and Dinosaur Bones

1. Craziest weekend ever
2. Following last week's craziest weekend ever
3. The list is also the best thing ever-- I'm checking things off left and right.
4. Everyone must make a list immediately.

Here are the rules:
1. write down all the things you'd like to do, but never remember to actually do
2. you don't have to complete all of them, but only write them if you genuinely intend to make the effort
3. items can be challenging (i.e. overcome fear of dogs) but not negative / stressful (i.e. pay hospital bills)

Today, I checked off number 22 from my list (do something that scares me at least once every two weeks), and from the list as I've been updating it, #34 (go for a run that's at least twice as long as what I think I can do)

Check!
And Check!!

Laura invited me to do the BolderBoulder with her today...on a whim... around Tuesday or Wednesday of last week. Which didn't leave any time for "training" ... my preparation involved wandering over to Coot lake in the mid-day heat on Saturday and jogging 2.2 miles. At the end of my jog, I was out of steam, and I had a cramp the shape of a pretzel under my right rib. This did not bode well for doing a 10K with Ms. Glorga, who is: 1. ripped and 2. in super-duper shape. As much as I wanted to give it a go, just to say "yeah, I lived in Boulder and yes, I participated in the race just like everyone else has"... I also felt a little uncertain that I'd look like an idiot, or slow Laura down. (Before I forget... although we didn't train in the "running" sense, we did train in the "making Statler and Waldorf t-shirts for the race" sense. And they are AMAZING-- see photo above, which was taken by Laura after we made them in my apartment on Sunday morning)

Ok, I thought... just take it easy Sunday, enjoy the event (and don't get overwhelmed with 50,000 people) on Monday. Except... I ended up accidentally walking about 3 miles in flip flops on Sunday, resulting in blisters and barking dogs (metaphorically speaking, referring to my tootsies) and then having a party with Mer, Thad & Tom Sunday night. Ridiculous. Ridiculous.
At 1:45 (Monday), I returned home with exhausted feet, a tummy full of blueberries, tired beyond belief... and... INSOMNIA hit. I lay in bed thinking of many, many angsty issues, and didn't fall asleep until 4:45 IN THE MORNING.
My alarm went off at 7:15.
Ok... go time... I splashed some water on my face, turned on some music and remembered the theme of the season: GET THERE!

Best thing about The List (tm): checking off an accomplishment can only be a positive experience.
Best thing about a weekend full of blisters, very late night parties, insomnia and race jitters: they all add to the experience without throwing a kink in the fun. A+

The race was awesome! It couldn't have been a better experience, and it couldn't have been with a better friend to get out and enjoy the rain with.
Laura and I kept a great pace... we started out at a comfortable 12 minute mile, and barely strayed from our pace until we hit the finish line. There were bands, old men ringing cowbells, 50,000 people in running gear, people in costume... best way to exercise. Whenever Laura or I needed to slow down a little, we decided we'd need a code word, so we decided on an obscure lyric from the cd I have in my car: Dinosaur Bones!:

obscure lyrics:

Dinosaur Bones won't sleep again
Cover your mouth!
Don't make a sound

Dinosaur Bones won't sleep again
Cover your mouth!
Don't make a sound

Yeah, I don't know what it means, but the cd is part of #37 or something like that on The List... I'll get back to that later. My rockstar days aren't here yet and I'm deliriously tired.

The race was just so great. I have always, always wanted to overcome my shyness / insecurity when it comes to sports and endurance, and this year has been really good for me in that sense. I felt like I missed out not being in a sport in high school, but today I got to cross my very first finish line. And I had no idea I could actually jog 6 miles. Before the race I decided that my goal would be to finish on or before 110 minutes, and we crossed the finish line at 88 minutes. It felt great to say "I will finish strong" before heading up the hill and into the stadium.
The endorphins were great.
The popsicles at the end were even better.
I'm wondering if everyone else in the city of Boulder has unbearably sore knees from 88 continuous minutes of knee-to-asphalt pounding. :)

I can't believe that I got 2.5 hours of sleep...ran 6 miles... and ended the day past 11pm with a dramatic limp and a big goofy smile on my face.

This is getting delirious...I'm still running on adrenaline, and it's truly crazy that I haven't been asleep since 8pm.

happy BolderBoulder, everyone...

tornado weather

strange, strange, strange day.

Got to work quite late... 20 after 9 or so... just couldn't get my body out of bed and moving, and once I did, I just felt this weight. It wasn't necessarily sleepiness, but I really felt like I was dreading the day.

Odd, very ADHD-feeling morning... I just couldn't focus on work, and there was very, VERY strange tension with office bickering popping into my email every half hour or so.
Before lunch, Robin called to say there was a tornado watch in Niwot.
I laughed-- Niwot?! "I'm in Niwot, and the sun's out," I said, and we mused about how odd that seemed.

Little did I know, just then the tornado sirens were blaring just down the road in Longmont... someone (police?) was even going through neighborhoods in Old Town and telling people to get in their basements.
Meanwhile, there we all are in our office, bickering and snarking and looking out the window at the dramatic clouds to the North, and West, and East, and South...

I had no idea until after lunch that Windsor got *whomped* by a 3/4 to 1-mile-wide F3 tornado. I hope that Bryan and Beth are ok! The pictures are terrifying-- the footage of the tornado ripping across I-25 literally made me feel sick to my stomach. Real storms like that are just baffling-- like getting caught in a violent wave, it's a reminder of how small and out of control we are when the planet really *does* something like that. It's amazing that there was only one death, especially when seeing the demolished homes. Horses picked up and thrown-- I can't imagine seeing a horse or a car picked up and then dropped from the sky!

I got super maternal and angsty and called Fawn and Paul about a bazillion times... I figured they were safe and sound at their home in Greeley, but watching that footage really got to me... I tracked them down a few hours later, Fawn said she had to duck into the basement, and they lost power, but otherwise they're fine.

I really do get anxious about my friends when I hear scary stuff in the news like that. It doesn't speak well for my chances of being a sane, ulcer-free woman when I have kids to worry about someday... I can't help it. I'm a logical person as much as I can be, but I care too much about my people to not worry if they're happy and safe... well, here's the crazy test, I'm getting angsty just typing this. Stop! Be normal, for once in your life, Janie!


I got home a couple of hours ago, and for some reason, a very weird sense of nervous energy followed me home. I feel very angsty and deeply unsettled. I wonder if it's the weather? Or just weariness? I feel weird, agitated, a little queasy. I feel like I just want a little bit of company. Probably more bachelorette-dom than tornado weather... sometimes it's wonderful to be home alone, and sometimes it just makes for a too-quiet evening, trapped with your own thoughts.

I was dropping some things off at Brian's, and we went up to Flagstaff to take pictures of the storm and the clouds all across the plains. He sent them to me... I'll post them tomorrow if I have time.

Just as the sirens were going off in Longmont, I was staring out the window, watching a flock of birds flying in a V-formation. In a burst of chaos, they suddenly all disbanded and went flapping wildly all across a field. I've never seen birds act like that, and it really took me by surprise... animals really do pick up on these bizarre weather days so much better than people can. I remember seeing horses freak out during a heat lightening storm in Indiana, hours before a tornado ripped through where we were staying. And I definitely felt this strange, somewhat sick-to-my-stomach, unsettled, 'life isn't right' feeling then, too. In kind of a twisted way, today made me yearn to watch a huge thunderstorm (from afar) someplace with a good view.

Anyhow, those are just my scattered storm thoughts.
Tomorrow I get the pleasure of having lunch with Ms. Fawn, and then it's a busy afternoon... Robin's son is having a graduation party, Ms. Heidi's getting married in Longmont, and I have some precious brain space to squander on weather-caused-distraction and angst...

Dorothy: It really was no miracle. What happened was just this.
[singing]
Dorothy: The wind began to swish / The house, to pitch / And suddenly the hinges started to unhitch / Just then the Witch / To satisfy an itch / Was flying on her broomstick, thumbing for a hitch.
Munchkin: and, oh, what happened then was rich.
Munchkins: The house began to pitch / The kitchen took a slitch / It landed on the Wicked Witch in the middle of a ditch / Which was not a healthy situation for the Wicked Witch. . .

(I do believe in spooks! I do, I do, I do believe in spooks!)

lists for groceries; lists for life

Oh, Spring is wonderful.

Spring is just a tad more wonderful than the second best thing ever: lists.

I would not get by without lists.

Recently, I wrote a top ten list for two of my gentlemen friends... it was called "what do women want?", and gave away all the secrets of the universe. But I don't regret giving away the secrets to the universe, because I think when it comes to matters of the heart, lists are important to keep important things like chivalry and 'offering to drive' front and center.

I also consider mix tapes (/ mix cds) to be an acoustic version of lists. Lists without check boxes or strife.

This morning I wrote a long, obscure grocery list because I realized that I had been angsting (and journaling) and becoming preoccupied with groceries in a telling way-- the kind of grocery angst that really meant I was nervous that my empty fridge symbolized something like an empty soul, or an empty future. I smacked myself around and headed into King Soopers... returning with corn, sweet potatoes, the largest artichoke ever, a lime green toothbrush and a mountain of grocery staples (most of which were on sale, oh-- the rapture)

My fridge is full of happiness. My future is back out of the proverbial gutter. Amazing what a good night's sleep can do for needless worry

While my little orange potato baked, I shucked corn and wrote a new list.
An exercise list, mainly... things I keep wanting to do but don't. A friend offered a free bike, and my fingers are crossed that it's still an option... I haven't had a bike since streamers were my life's greatest priority.

I have a list brewing that feels very real and ugent... unlike the more pipe dream, half asleep lists that I penned in the sultry January snow storms.

It includes post-its for my future self to remind me that my heart yearns for:
1. swimming tomorrow at 7am
2. possibly bringing back the Asian aesthetic of the parasol this summer in an effort to get to fall without a single serious sunburn
3. hikes... Rocky Mtn. National park, Sanitas, the grasslands, everywhere
4. go white water rafting for the first time
5. find a new job. STAT. regardless of what 9 News may or may not (FINALLY) tell me this week via email three minutes after the 10pm newscast has ended
6. once I have found my new dream job-- figure out a stable schedule
7. once I have a stable schedule, become a Big Sister, or another youth mentorship program
8. call the therapeutic riding center and ask them if they still need summer volunteers for the youth with disabilities camp
9. read absolutely everything about twins. Twins blow my mind. My obsession with twins will never end, and maybe if I read up on them now, I will have the psychic ability to will myself to have twins in my early 30s when I will be married to LeVar Burton and living happily as a documentary producer and fiction writer.
10. write my buns off until I have something that I would actually have the avacados to try to publish.
11. #10 again, because it's one of the most important things I've decided all year.
12. watch the Cosmos series again front to back, mostly over at my parents' because dad can tell me what research was updated since Carl Sagan's death
13. watch all the Sopranos episodes that I missed all those years at school
14. learn how to properly chop vegetables, instead of the for-crap way that I taught myself in my bachelorette pad
15. make a mystery video, a personal project video, and "what are you doing right now?" before end of July.
16. learn Elgar's cello concerto with Maggie, my spiritual advisor since 8th grade
17. learn guitar, instead of the crap self-taught guitar I've picked up while poorly chopping vegetables
18. write an original song for guitar, cello, and piano... and memorize all three parts in case this ever becomes a desirable skill and my country calls upon me for service
19. write letters to Canada because I'm a terrible person and I never send lovely typewriter-drafted notes on vintage magazine ads like Steve has for years
20. go on a ride-along with the Longmont Police Program
21. speak with someone from the Reading Rainbow production company and Sesame Workshops to talk about what experience I actually need to get there, as opposed to the experience I'm pretending I'll need
22. do something that scares me at least once every two weeks
23. take a winter driving course
24. interview a dog expert to see how I can overcome my fear of scary dogs (or at least how to get a dog to stop attacking me if it were to ever happen)
25. write a heartfelt hand-written letter to the people at This American Life who discussed their employment opportunities to me
26. learn Thriller. The entire thing. Well enough to do it drunk in a bar surrounded by strangers.
27. audition for at least one more comedy group / project / improv troupe / standup gig
28. learn how to paint, and take a figure drawing class
29. possibly take a calligraphy class in Boulder from Marlow Brooks
30. take some kind of dance class. Preferably something fun, where I won't look like an idiot.
31. go out in Denver as much as possible during the convention, and have at least one beer with an interesting politician who wants to tell me about checks and balances in more detail than I currently understand
32. buy a new computer and set up my first at-home edit bay
33. someday: buy my own video camera
34: someday: also buy a second pair of tall high heels. they make me feel like a 1950s jazz singer, and it's absolutely worth feeling 10' tall to feel like that when I leave the apartment.

speaking of number 20...
I filled out the Ride-Along application for the Police Department this morning, and it has the craziest clauses. "Observers shall not converse with prisoners, suspects, witnesses..." "Observers shall not participate in any police activity unless specifically directed by officers" ... "No handcuffs or weapons are permitted"... "you voluntarily assume the risk of death or personal injury from the use of vehicles, weapons, unlawful acts, forcible resistance by law violators, fire, explosion, gas, electrocution, or injury in any other way..."

I'm totally excited. I scratched out the day shift and am now requesting the night shift. I really want to learn more about how law enforcement works, what part it plays in society, what it's like for people on the offender's side, how our society really works, and what the ugly side of it is that I only peek at when it's convenient for me. I want to get jury duty soon, too. I also have an itch to vote soon.
(Except... with the Kentucky votes coming in today as expected, and Kennedy's illness announced today, and Obama's scramble toward exhaustion, and the current state of the Democratic and Republican battle... OY. Maybe I don't have an itch to vote soon.)

So, lists. They're A+.
1. They help me remember things that I really want to remember
2. They make me feel organized and responsible
3. I love feeling organized and responsible
4. They make me feel happy
5. I love feeling happy.

Over and out, from a summer-hot apartment with spring fever,

JaneKathryn.

96 hours of haystack mountain and pugs

It's funny how life can develop very specific, predictable patterns over a year or two, which are all unexpectedly undone in a day or a week's time.

Two months ago, my life was extremely 9-5... I was taking vitamins every single morning, always had enough cereal and veggies in the fridge, went to bed by 11 almost every week night, and had very specific plans for work pursuits / book lists / future art projects over the spring. And here I am on a Monday night, aggrivated that I *still* do not have groceries after 5 days of insanity... haven't gone to bed before 1am in at least a week... inspired by new art projects and new changes in direction (albeit a somewhat confusing, frenetic, sad, inspired and way too past my bedtime change in direction)... a current life direction full of ellipses and peppered with question marks...

I just said goodbye to Peter, a very dear friend of Thad's and mine who was in town visiting us from Chicago. Over the course of his stay, we had deep conversations and insanely ridiculous bouts of laughter; learned the deeper nuances of Haystack Mountain and learned the origin of Pugs*; drank Fat Tire and martinis and absurd combinations of dark beers and donuts with sprinkles. My healthy streak was ABSOLUTELY demolished, especially since I had just been sick for TWO freaking weeks without feeling up to going to the gym.

(*Pugs. Over martinis and french fries downtown, Peter rhetorically asked... "what's up with pugs?" and laughed at my Insta-Answer, which mumbled something about Pugs definitely coming from ancient China, and being used for something like chasing Pigs away from royalty. The next night, when recounting the story to Meredith, she jumped at the word Pugs and said, "Ancient China, right? Weren't they carried around in their big sleeves?" I've done about 15 minutes of googling, and have only come up with "China" in pugs' history, although I'm proud of both of us for having incorrect memories, or friends who tell us deliciously untrue stories.)

Over four days, we sat on cacti at Encar, watching the clouds roll in, danced awkwardly at 7"Eurobar" in Boulder and laughed at the awkward Friday night dynamic downtown, frantically text messaged some stranger named Collin in Manhattan who was positive that he knew us and was supposed to meet us out for a drink in NYC, read Suzanne Somers poetry with Tom and Meredith, walked all the way down to my King Soopers at midnight and laughed hysterically when they discovered I'd tried shoving a huge box of donuts into a tiny King Soopers bag and hoped they wouldn't noticed... sat on my balcony drinking cheap beer and took the free tour at Celestial Seasonings and cried mascara (well, I did anyway) down our cheeks with the intensity of the infamous Peppermint Room.
We just said our goodbyes, and I realized that I didn't remember to take a single picture of our happy friend group over the weekend... and although I've known Peter about 7 years now, I don't have a single photo of us together. It's a sad but endearingly appropriate way to end his whirlwind tour through Boulder.

Whirlwind feels like everything in my life right now, and like the kites Tom and I spent an afternoon flying in Longmont on Sunday, I'm fairly certain that the gale force winds I've been in are about to send me crashing back to dry land.
The *insane* hours I've been working on my video project are nearing an end, and soon I'll just be opening databases all day and staring sleepily at cross dissolves 40 hrs. a week. I'm very excited to start a new video project and read a huge pile of books I've been eyeing recently, but I'll also have big, gaping holes in my weeknights, and I've had fewer than 10 of those over the past 6 weeks. I'll make myself replenish my groceries, start a consistent gym routine again, slap my wrist when I go to buy something fun to remember that I need to SAVE MONEY and not drop $17 on tacos and a too-tart margarita three days in a row.

One of the nicest parts of the weekend was having a cello date with Meredith... we decided to do something VERY brave and re-strung our cellos late at night in my apartment, which felt stuffy and hot as if it was already summer.
If there's anything scarier than removing the strings from your cello and realizing how dangerously close they were to breaking in half and gouging out both of your eyes, it's re-stringing your cello and listening to the agonizing groans and pops in the wood of the bridge and the pegs as you strap thick steel cables to your precious instrument. We had the concentration of two surgeons; toasty in the summer evening heat and proud of our hard-earned work.
When midnight rolled around, it looked like a girl-cello-bomb had gone off, with broken strings everywhere, cello music as far as the eye could see, a bra on the floor (cellos and painful girl apparel do not mix) and rosin pretty much all over my clothes.
It was nice to end my an inspired, hurricane weekend on a more productive note.

I will miss Peter, but it's nice to have a bizarre combination of old & new friends, ridiculous & deep conversations, factory tours and cello surgery, irresponsibility out on the town and calm, almost zen-like mornings alone in my grocery-less apartment.

It's cheesy to say, but truth be told, when the dust settles from the work crazies since April and the indulgent frenzy of the past four days, I feel like life might look a little different in general. I hope I can find the right balance between work and play.
Spring is my favorite time. It's so alive-- it begs for the celebration of simply being alive. It's a wonderful time to let the bittersweet and inspired bits all mingle and get some fresh air... and to simply head outdoors in search of quieter answers to big questions.

As with any storm, it's ridiculous to try to assess it while you're still up to your eyeballs in it.
But if I didn't end the day rambling about it, it just wouldn't be me...

here's to spring, and the powerful breath of life that comes along with it. *clink*

unimportant metaphors for empty gas tanks

silly, but true...

my gas tank says " emptyyyy"

my refrigerator says "seriously, almost emptyyyyy"

my wallet says, "don't open me. I'm empty."

and truly, I feel like I'm running on fumes. I'm so close to running on empty, myself.

I don't understand energy and inertia. It seems like energy should peter out more gradually-- with a slump toward unconsciousness that you can see coming from a mile away.

But I feel like when I get the most energy stored up, and come at anything with a fireball of energy, it just takes one little trip or false start, and suddenly every ounce of my sams club, bulk purchase of energy vanishes without a trace.

What's with that?
Do emotional banks charge unbelievable fees if you spend more than your limit in one drunken night?

I'm so past my limit.

Goals for the week:
1. not to feel like a crumpled up flower after tonight's last real group meeting at social services, despite the very odd note that the semester ended on

2. not to fold inside out from frustration after trying to schedule this project's 30 billionth shoot

3. avoid the temptation to cave into the plague until my entire soul is one big cranky germ

4. not to forget to tell my friends that I was so tired tonight... I literally jumped and yelped in surprise when changing into my pj's and seeing black and white polka-dots looking up at me. After a long, long fast, I bit the bullet yesterday and did the thing I hate most (bra shopping)-- only to startle the shiiiiite out of myself tonight, thinking that bugs were on me, or I was having vision problems, or that someone's big white-and-black spotted hands were reaching up to kill me. I'm UBER pathetic this month to begin with, but being startled silly from my own freaking bra? Are you kidding me?

Thank God my neighbors never knock on the wall to see if I'm ok. The reasons for my bachelorette-pad-yelps-of-fear get stupider every day that I'm alive.

5. Strike that. Never, ever let the scared-stupid-by-a-new-brassiere- story leave my pathetic, exhausted inner monologue.

I'm such a cheery little fruitbat.
If I wrote all these venty little bitchsnits in the morning, they'd be way cheerier. Maybe I should stop bitchsnitting at night, when I'm exhausted and have the plague.

Goal for next week:
1. Do not bitchsnit or get venty at night, and/or when suffering from exhaustion and/or the plague and/or a severe case of life turbulance.

2. also, don't forget to force Meredith to sit through Rivers & Tides: Andy Goldsworthy Working With Time. We discussed it over a lovely beet salad at Terroir, and if I forget, I'll cry and she'll miss out on the best thing that's happened to us since learning the harmony to "For the Beauty of the Earth" in high school

3. Also, read at least two more books on my goodreads.com "to-read" list in the next two weeks, because I'm entrenched in such a great pattern of amazing books right now, I think my brain is going to burst. And write reviews on the last 3 I finished because I'm too lazy to make myself do it during this incredible literary winning streak.

Ah. Much better.
That's it.

get there!

Not much to say; nothing profound to say.

I grounded myself because I've been so pathetically qausi-feeble and sick... it's not "pow! you're out for 5 solid days!" sick, but the sneaky-type sick... I'll feel totally normal, and then I do any physical exertion, and POW! Sinus infection takes over my brain and I'm suddenly 98 years old and my heart pounds just from walking up the stairs. What's with the ebbs and flows of sick days?
Morning-- feel horrible. Afternoon- feel ok. Evening- feel great. Do stupid, marvelously irresponsible things, like playing badminton* in the dark. Nighttime- want to die immediately after doing fun irresponsible things

*Went to Thad's for dinner... we played badminton as it was getting dark and didn't stop until it was so dark that the shuttlecock literally hit me in the face (and I had no idea it was headed toward my face). Sam and Tom were kicking our ass, especially because Sam quickly learned that his intimidating deep voice will make me miss any shot if he just yells "JANE! IT'S YOURS, JANE!" or, the best sports command ever, "GET THERE!" Hours later, I'm putting away clothes at home and I hear the boys yelling "GET THERE" again in my head and I start cracking up-- grateful that my slippers are the only things in my apartment that can hear how weird I am on a daily basis.

If I can stop being sick, I can survive the next crazy work weeks until the 17th when-- so help me, god-- my video shoots will be "done". Except for "a few more". I've never worked so much ever, even that one time. My brain hurts. My desk is groaning from all the paperwork at the office. I'm eager to see this project really start to get some meat on its bones when we venture deeper into postproduction.

Topic for next very sleepy and sickly babbling spree: why I want to kick every single poster for the Sex and the City movie. And why I'll probably go see it. Blechhhh. Stupid Sex & the City.

Also: Hemingway's short stories are so good that I want to quit my job and just read them over and over.

Also: As an avid horse lover and someone who's watched the Kentucky Derby almost every year since I was 10, I think I'm swearing it off forever. I watched Saturday's race alone in my apartment with a bowl of soup and a big glass of ginger ale... excited to cheer on 8 Belles, the first filly contender for the cup over 20 years. I didn't have much of a voice, but I shouted to the best of my ability through the last 3/4ths of the race-- trying to figure out which jockey's silks belonged to 8 Belles in the crazy cluster. She crossed the finish line 2nd, and almost immediately crumpled to the ground. It wasn't on camera, but I *knew* something was wrong when Big Brown (the winning horse) flinched and threw his rider as they were cooling off and greeting the cheering crowd. He saw her go down, and it showed in his body-- the horses on the track knew she was hurt. She'd shattered both front ankles... they euthanized her immediately, even before the trainer could get down on the field.
It was awful. Truly tragic. Such a spirited, fast filly-- and then she's just gone.
I looked pretty pathetic wrapped up in my quilt on the couch, eating soup and ginger ale, crying over a race horse, but it was so sad.

I'm swearing off the Derby. Thoroughbreds are like the royal family-- bred for bloodlines more than anything, and it's ridiculous. They keep breeding the horses that are fast, but don't check as carefully as they should to make sure that the horses are healthy, sound, and physically capable of racing without genetic vulnerability to injuries. I just can't keep watching a sport that claims the life of these beautiful animals, that only had 3 years to live before meeting their death after a 1.25 mile race.

Also: I'm stalling. I'm dreading Monday, so I'm putting off bedtime, even though I feel exhausted and I have to be up early.

Only two more sessions of Monday night volunteering before the parents "graduate" next week at a bbq in Thompson Park (they wrote thank you notes for the social workers and me... I'm so excited to read what they wrote). I'm really sad that the semester's ending-- the program doesn't run over the summer, so I'll have to wait until August or September to see how many foster kids will be signed up next time. I'll really miss working with my kiddo. If I could figure out this freaking job situation, I could decide whether or not to re-up my lease (and maybe get wood floors in my apartment... and new paint... and new blinds)... or whether or not it's the right time to become a Big Sister. I really, really want to join a mentorship program soon, and it's driving me crazy how hard it is to commit to at least a year when my life's all crazy and in limbo.
New job, stable apartment, mentorship program, path to all that's happy and productive... I just want to GET THERE!! Seriously! Maybe the shuttlecock of life will smack me in the face without warning again soon.

Anyway.
Nothing else new to vent about before bedtime.
Too much to do, not enough time to have thoughtful thoughts, not enough will power to say no to a night of pitch dark badminton when it means I'll be hacking up a lung later.

Happy Mondays, all around...