Death Wish?

Yesterday at work I was slitting a box and the knife got caught and then suddenly ripped free of the tape and flew at my wrist. For a moment I was waiting for a red waterfall to run forth. . .or at least trickle. . .but only a couple of drops came at which point I reflected that it really might have been more lucky if it had been more than a nick - lying down somewhere and regaining my strength from blood loss sounded like a pretty good alternative to facing the mountain of boxes I was supposed to, unrealistically, be able to finnish. And then I started reflecting on my dissappointment that it didn’t bleed, and realised that I’m always disappointed when things don’t bleed. Not that I actually have a death wish, but blood is so pretty, particularly against my white skin. yeah so, maybe I ought to be disturbed at myself.

They really are trying to kill me at work though. This week is Inventory which means we can't have any books left in boxes when they come to do that - they all have to be out so they can count them, and they all have to be registered in our system so they can get a good comparrison of their count to our reccords. HOWEVER some numbskull higher up in the company decided now would be the perfect week to ship us all the 'summer reading' which means at least twice the normal ammount of boxes coming in each day. Agh! To top this off the trash compactor key is lost so now the back room has also become garbage storage. Egad!

The Best of Fabrics, The Worst of Fabrics

I love sheer flowy fabric, it is so much fun! -to wear that is. Sewing it is another story entirely - then I think it's straight from hell. It stretches in odd directions and will not lay evenly on the floor when cutting it. It slides off your lap or the table when you're trying to sew or pin it. It unravels faster than the road-runner (I was watching Wile E. Coyote cartoons while cutting it out). Individual strings get pulled and gather it all up where you don't want it too, and once that happens there's no smoothing it out again, it will always look puckered there. It pretty much does exactly the opposite of whatever it is you are trying to do to it. It's absolute madness trying to tackle it, but if you perservere you end up with something very lovely....well sometimes. Sometimes you just end up with a ravely snagged mass of mutilated fabric. I am happy to say that this time I did come out triumphant, for the most part anyway.

Remind me to write Shelob a note

Shelob sent us a snack today at work (or it could have been the Wraith*) - how thoughtfull.
Among the boxes there was one, about hobbit-coffin sized, all mummified in a thick case of grungy stringy seran-wrap that looked for all the world like a mass of spiderwebs. Kinda creepy.

* from Stargate Atlantis - the futuristic vampire race evolved from bugs

blogging

I have another blog now at myspace.com (you can search display name: aelthwyn) where I am sort of doing a random question a day thing. So if you feel like reading/answering random questions go check it out.

Hey la, hey la, my Laptop's Back!

Elation! Jubilance! Delight!
It finally arrived! -Of course the first thing I did was hug the box =)
It feels like forever since I have been able to sit with it on my lap. It works! no more psychedelic lines! no more freezing up at the slightest bump!
I'm sooo glad they didn't erase any of my files so I don't have to mess with putting everything back on. It's just as if it was never gone - only better because now it works. They also seem to have replaced the track pad, which I'm glad about because it did sometimes have problems. yay! I am so happy!

contemplations: time & existance

Well I'm not sure how much of this will make sense to someone else - that is I don't have great confidence in my ability to confer these thoughts through words, but I decided I'd just sort of throw them out there anyway.

Can you immagine nothing - really truely nothing? I can immagine empty space, but that is still something, it is space, it is some plain or realm of existance, even if it is not much. But can you immagine no existance? It defys comprehension. The concept of nothing is something. But actually nothing? No light. No dark. No substance of any kind. No thought. No time. How could there ever have been a time of nothingness? A ‘time’ before time began? It cannot even be called a time, if there was truely nothing. The best one can do is refer to a beginning. You can’t say ‘before’ the beginning, if there was no time.
If there was nothing, there must still be nothing. Nothing can never lead to something. It cannot be that there was nothing and then suddenly there was something. Nothing is nothing is nothing. Or else there is Something. We can perhaps immagine nothing in our realm of existance, but for there to be/have been no existance whatsoever not in any realm/plain/dimension/etc. -- impossible. Just try and wrap your mind around it. (at least it doesn't work for me).
If something exists now, there must always have been something. What was it? Is matter eternal? Is spirit? Something must be eternal, you cannot get around it.

You cannot even really say something began without a time when it wasn’t, which means that soemthing else - time- must at least be in existance for something to begin - therefore you cannot have something start out of nothingness. Truely nothingness is completely irrelevant and unconnected with somethingness. If there was something and there was no time before that something, then there could not have been a time when that something was not, and therefore that something must be eternal, it could not have begun.

We are so stuck in time it is very difficult, if not impossible, for us to comprehend anything outside that framework - that state of existance. But if you take away that attribute of progression, or of viewing a thing bit by bit in sequence, you have the whole thing, the real entire thing. You are your past present and future - that is the complete you. But you can only experience yourself bit by bit- moment by moment. You do not know all of yourself yet, because you have not yet seen and expeirenced your future. But if you could immagine taking time out of the equasion you would have just your whole self all at once in every seccond of your life - the full sum of you. Now immagine all of history without time. You have existance, the fullness of existance, with no beginning, with no end; just the whole full thing, complete. Without time something is something, and nothing is nothing. There is no switch between the two, no change from one to another - no beginning or end. Something either is, or isn’t.

living on the edge?

So apparently wearing skirts is dangerous, or so I've been told. It has been firmly suggested to me that my skirts are a 'safety issue' and I ought to wear pants to work. At said job I open and close and lock and unlock the back door, carry boxes across a distance of about 8 feet, unpack boxes, scan books, and sort books onto various carts, and, oh yes, I take out the trash. I would like to take this moment to point out a bit of logic which seems to be frequently overlooked by so-called practically minded people: For thousands of years men and women worked - hunted, built, cooked, farmed, fought, rode, climbed, ran; lived in skirts before the invention of trousers. Therefore it is really quite silly for people to believe that it is so impossible and dangerous (or so very impractical) to perform such tasks in skirts nowadays. Being most adamently myself I have, of course, continued to wear my long skirts to work. Perhaps I am flirting with disaster...but I highly doubt it.

lost & forlorne

My computer currently has two functions: writing surface and place-mat. It went psycho on me a few days ago - lots of random multi-colored psychedelic lines flashing across the screen and then completely non-responsive. Its a very odd sensation. Like having half one's brain gone. I wander aimlessly, unable to think what to do. I sit and stare at it and try to hold back the tears. Somehow, just having it there, even if I'm not doing something with it, makes things feel more complete, more together. I think the thing I miss most though is iTunes. I really don't know how to cope without my music. It is a refuge, a reminder of bright and beautifull things. It helps me relax, or gives me energy. I turn it on in the morning so I don't just fall back to sleep as soon as the alarm goes off. I tend to measure time in song-tracks. Having no sense of time myself, I can remember how long different songs are and thereby measure how much time I've spent, like in the shower; and I know which song on my 'morning music' playlist is the signal that I need to be getting out of here. I don't really have any other thing to play my music on right now, since my speakers are broken so I can't just plug my iPod in (and earphones often bugg me, and aren't practical for doing things like getting dressed with), and I have gotten so addicted to playlists it's hard for me to just listen to one CD all the way through. sigh.... I am also forced now to handwrite my thoughts and ideas and lists etc. but somehow I find it hard to think with a pen in hand anymore. In front of the screen my thoughts just flow right into the keys, but with a pen and my terrible handwriting (and these damned pens that don't work- I seem to have gotten a whole boxfull of duds, they look like they have ink, but it doesn't come out) my thoughs just sort of stop, and feel all choppy.
At least I can use Tracy's old computer, though it makes this annoying buzzing noise when it's on so I can't stand it for very long, and it doesn't have any of my stuff on it. Luckilly though, my computer's problem is supposed to be a defect covered by Apple, so I can send it in for free to have that fixed - that is a definate plus - but in the meantime I hope I can manage to pull myself together enough. Yes I suppose it is pretty pathetic that I feel this pathetic without it. sigh....

run run run, as fast as you can!

I made gingerbread men today, yum =) (well, actually I made circles instead of men) I love gingerbread sooo much! The dough is great too. I think maybe it's the molasses I really like, I don't know, but I find few sweets more satisfying. Aside from chocolate and custard I think gingerbread is the only other sweet I actually crave regularly.
Something I've discovered I like to do is make up dough and then just keep it in the fridge and make a few fresh cookies at a time in the toaster over, which takes less time than the regular one, rather than making them all up at once.
Unfortuneately I discovered that grape juice tastes wierd with molasses, so I can't have my favorite drink with my favorite cookie, but then milk always tastes best with cookies anyway. =)

yes, I am happy =)

absence makes the heart grow fonder

The love theme from the Dark Crystal is playing now and I am stirred with intense longing for space mountain. O Disneyland! will I ever enjoy you again?
the sad tender notes speak of doomed love, sigh...

. . . ?

why is my stove made by 'Fridgidaire'
and my fridge made by 'Hotpoint'?

Valentines

It's stupid. I mean what people make of it, that is. (I'm not one of those bitter valentines haters because I'm jealous of other people's happiness or anything) It just seems to me that people, or at least girls, place too much stock in this one day, this holiday. Girls get all depressed if they don't have a boyfriend for Valentines, and those that have one expect so much on this day and get upset if it's not the great romantic thing they've been immagining. Guys, it seems feel bound to spend money and do things, almost more out of fear of offending than actually wanting to do all that on that particular day. It seems so contrived to me (of course it isn't all like that, lots of people are gennuine, and it's more of a good excuse to do something they would have wanted to anyway). But you certainly shouldn't need to be told by the calendar to give someone you love gifts, and what if you just really don't feel like going out to diner or whatever that day? I mean, honnestly, how can one day be an indication of ones entire love-life? Why should my not giving you a card on this day mean more than all the times I tell you I love you and give you gifts and do little things you like throughout the year? It really seems pretty stupid to me. So it's a day to celebrate love, there's nothing wrong with that, but it's not the day itself which should be significant.
It's strange, even though I really value traditions and like holidays, somehow I also really view them as just another day. What is being celebrated is more important than the day on which you do that, in fact, if it's important enough to have a holiday, it's probably important enough to remember more than once a year. Why shouldn't getting together with family be as special in August as it is at Christmas? Why shouldn't we think about what we're thankfull for every day rather than just at Thanksgiving? Can every day be a holiday?

cullinary arts

I discovered the secret magical power of the toaster-oven. If you give it a piece of bread and then leave it to its own devices, when you come back it will have magically turned the pice of bread into a toast-shaped piece of charcoal with which you can then draw pictures on the kitchen counter =)

The toaster-oven is also very good for creating special effects like dense fog and smoke-veiled pub atmosphere - and its coils glow menacingly red in the dark while it makes a brooding sort of growl.

Pineapple Peach Pommegranit

I finally have Fruits Basket!
I really love this series. It is so cute, and sweet, and in parts sad, but the sadness doesn’t overwhelm the happiness. I think part of why I like it so much is that it says things that I’ve always thought, which are close to my heart. The heroine, Tohru, is always looking for the good things; she simply enjoys life, focusing more on the blessings and beautifull things rather than letting her troubles keep her from enjoying the good there is to be had. She believes that everyone has good qualities, and she cares so genuinely about everyone she meets. What she wants most is to understand others, and help them to see the good things about themselves and the world around them. She’s always encouraging and helping others.
I’m not as selfless as Tohru, but understanding others and accepting them for who they are has always been one of the most important things to me. Like Tohru, I grew up with a mom who loved me so much, and who encouraged me to just be myself. I want to give others that kind of wonderfull freedom she gave me, to be myself without fear of her ever not loving me because of something I did or said. You can’t love a person just because they act nice or they like the same things as you do, real love earnestly wants the best for someone, cares about them even when it doesn’t make sense, when you don’t understand, or even when they hurt you. Ex: when Kyo says things that hurt Tohru, instead of being mad at him she wants to know why he is really angry and wants the things that trouble him to be resolved. Whenever I sense that someone is hurting, or doesn’t like themself I long to comfort and encourage them. Like Tohru I am so honored when people trust me enough to let me get to know who they really are, it always makes me so happy.
I love the themes of hope and enjoying life in this story. I have always been an optimist. I always try to ‘home in’ on what is happy and beautifull. It really makes me mad when people try to say that life is nothing but pain, that ‘reality’ is depressing or boring or hopeless. Happiness and Beauty and Goodness are not merely illusions, they are real, just as real as any pain, and the more you focus on those things rather than on the sad things, the more they will be a real part of your life. Perhaps the thing that irks me, no actually outrages me, most is when people try to kill hope. They are just defeating themselves before they’ve even given themeselves a chance at happiness, and they have no right to try to kill what hope there is in others just because they can’t see it because they’ve closed their eyes.
So anyway... that’s why Fruit’s Basket is dear to me (aside from just loving all the characters). I’m glad to know someone else has the chance to say those things to a lot of other people too.

The year of the Digital Camera

Yes that's right, there is a new member of the chinese zodiac, the digital camera! Can't you just see it now, 'I wish we could get a picture of this.' 'quick give me a hug' Poof! well that would be one way of never having to be in the picture. Although it could be really bad if they got tired and transformed on the street and then got stolen and stuffed in someone's bag, 'cause once they re-transformed.... (this only makes sense if you've seen Fruits Basket)
Anyway, about half the people I know recieved one for Christmas this year - I forsee many more photoshoots and colorfull blog posts this year.

Morning Sickness

I am not what you would call a ‘morning person.’ It’s not so much a matter of getting up on the wrong side of the bed with me, as getting up on the wrong side of the stomache. Whenever I’ve had less than 9-10 hours of sleep (which is hard to come by in this world) I invariably feel as though I am going to puke. This goes on for a good while after I have actually managed to lug myself out of bed and out of the house. Mostly the whole of my thought processes and strength are taken up with ‘I will not puke, I will not puke, I will not fall over, I will not puke...’ On top of this I am also very light sensitive and my eyes have a tendancy to be blurred for about half an hour. Bright lights trigger wincing headaches and the inability to open my eyes whatsoever. All I want to do upon waking up is curl up in a dark hole and die.
Now if you felt like this do you immagine you would be inclined to outbursts of smiling and cheerfull comments? No. I don’t think so.
Now, I wouldn’t necessarily call myself grumpy: I don’t develope that urge to slash things to smitherines unless someone else throws on the lights and acts inhumaely happy. If you walk around with half lidded eyes and comment only in grunts you are perfectly safe. Aside from the physical pangs I can actually be resonably happy - on the inside. Outward expression capabilities do not develope till later in the day, and social inteaction is prettymuch null. It seems that something got wired wrong in may brain - generally the longer I’ve been awake the more awake I become, and the longer I’ve been asleep the tired-er I become. So just before getting up I’m practially dead. Now that is quite a shock, being flung suddenly from the depths of subconciousdom into the bright aliveness of ‘reality’. I’m never ready for it, no matter how many mornings I’ve braved in the past. It usually takes a good 2-3 hours to get over it and actually get past the ever sluggish ‘start up’ mode. (The unhappy mac icon usually threatens to appear several times before the processing wheel finally disappears and the desktop picture comes up). During the first half of the day thinking is very limited. Life is pretty much just going through the motions with a glazed look. Full functionality is reached sometime after diner when my internal motivator finally begins to kick in.

a revelation of logic

The other day as I stood over my teapot watching it start to boil it suddenly hit me: the reason why things boil - as in bubbles come up from inside the liquid - is that the molecules, not just on the top, but also those down underneath the surface, are turning to gas. I think the revelation began actually with the question of 'where do the bubbles come from? how does the air get down underneath? That's impossible.' (puzzled look) And then I realized, that of course the 'air' had to be the gaseous form of the water, in which case it makes sense that the bubbls would form inside because it's not just the top of the water that's getting hot enough to evaporate - duh! I'm not sure why I never connected this before, it seems quite obvious now, but somwhow I guess I just took it for granted- thought of it from a child's perspecive which is simply that 'when things get hot they bubble, and we call that boilding.' Normally I really like to know how and why things work the way the do, but I never stoped to think about this one before.

One chocolate, very rare

So far there has been no evidence of vampire shelves at Barnes & Noble - where I am now working. However I did have a run in with a vampire chocolate the other day. I don't mean chocolates that bite you before you bite them, but, well...here's what happened:
I love dark chocolate. It can make almost any moment divine. So of course I could stand only so much of staring at the bars of godiva dark chocolate piled on a little rack in front of the register I have to stand at for 8 hours a day before it became necessary to eat one. At break I picked out a raspberry truffle dark chocolate bar and bit into it while staring up at the menue of cofees and teas served at the cafe trying to decide what would go best with my chocolate. Then I glanced down. Blood! Dark, red, and oozing out of the center of my chocolate bar! I gaped at it while the 'barista' waited for me to order something.
I'm not really sure what I had expected of a raspberry chocolate bar, perhaps something more pink and creamy.
After a moment of cross checking sight with taste and realising my taste-buds were not in fact experiencing the somehwat metalic taste of blood, I smirked to myself, and stood there musing on all the morbid ideas the bleeding chocolate conjured in my mind. It wasn't exactly the 'divine' moment I had been looking forward to; 'bloody hell' was the first thing that popped into my head.

=)

N 1b sunflower-13sm
Originally uploaded by aelthwyn.

This picture makes me happy. Normally I don't care for yellow much, but this is an exception.

too much stargate?

So today I am putting away fabric (I am writing this in the future, it wasn't actually today) when behind me I hear a soft, rasping, high pitched squeaking. I stop dead, the bolt of fabric forgotten in my hand. Slowly I stand up. I can't have just heard that. But I know it too well, I know exaclty what that sound is.
Should I turn around and face my doom? I know what I will see, the ugly prong-like head of a goa'ould streatching out from a Jaffa's slit stomach. Slowly, stiffly, I look behind me.....

and it's a lady with a squeaky shopping cart.