Barton Fink

I am not entirely sure if the movie Barton Fink is brilliant or whether it just pretends to be. Perhaps it is pretending on purpose and that is part of the brilliance.

I'm not sure it matters. Any way you look at it, you must admit that it is deeply compelling without being at all entertaining.

Drowning

I hate paperwork, and today I feel like I'm drowning in it.

Whoever came up with the idea of direct mail, I'm sorry, but I don't think I could even be remotely civil to you right now.

Of course, it's partly my own fault, for letting the junk pile up and telling myself over and over again, "I'll look at it later." I've been saying that since January, it seems, so you can imagine the state of things on my desk at the moment. (Come to think of it, where is my desk?!)

I have piles of paper all around me as I write, and if I had my way, I'd pick them all up and throw them into the recycle bin (be nice to the environment!), but I guess there's some stuff I should actually keep, like bank statements and such. I don't know why. I mean, I know why, but I'm bitter about it. I don't want to keep them. I don't ever look at them anyway, so what's the point?

And receipts! I have receipts everywhere, because people say I should keep them. I don't want to keep those either. I don't care about deductions. I just want the least amount of headache that I can possibly achieve, and it seems like keeping countless tiny slips of paper so that I can wade through them later and tally some up while tossing others isn't really conducive to headachelessness. I'm starting to get one right now, for goodness' sake.

I also have a terrible habit of scribbling notes to myself on any odd scrap that presents itself, wherever I happen to be...so I have a notepad next to the bed, and another one on the desk (I think), and note cards scattered around here and there (why on earth do I have note cards?!), and then I have things that I've printed out, like articles and such, but I've scribbled on them too because I couldn't find any of the notepads, or note cards, anywhere when I needed to jot a note to myself.

But it's all going to change. I have decided! I am going to be organized, and detail-oriented, and efficient, and all those other things you see on job descriptions everywhere these days. I think even janitors are supposed to be attentive to detail, and able to multi-task. (I sometimes wonder if these companies actually want human beings working for them, or if they are not-so-secretly longing for the day when robots will take over the earth.)

Anyway, I have a plan to get everything sorted out and filed neatly into appropriate compartments. It is a beautiful plan, with a classification system that would make a grown man weep. But first, I just have to jot a few notes to myself on my To Do list. When I find it.

Return to the Forgotten Blog

In September of last year, I went to the Middle East for three and a half weeks. When I came back, I wanted to write about the experiences, and I started a blog for the purpose at about the same time as I started the frogg files. But I only wrote a couple entries before I let it fall by the wayside.

I've finally updated it, and I plan to continue, though probably not as regularly as this one. But if you want to read stories from that time in my life, go here.

The trip was referred to as Project 17 by those who organized it, which explains the title of the blog, "Stories from P17." But the meaning of the term really has little bearing on the stories I want to tell, at least as far as I'm concerned, so I am not going to define it further. The stories are the important thing.

Take what you will from what is given.

A Day

As we were driving out to Temecula this morning to tour the vineyards, I remembered a warm afternoon at a small winery just outside of Queenstown, New Zealand. My friends and I stopped there because the road was temporarily closed that we needed to take, so to pass the time until it opened, we thought we'd explore the winery, and have lunch there. It was a quiet, easily missable place if you weren't paying attention, so I will always be thankful that we were. We parked the car, and wandered around the grounds for a bit. In a pasture nearby, we saw goats that looked like little dogs, romping about playfully. They were very strange, and yet, perhaps for that reason, beautiful too.

Everything was colored in champagne shades that day.

Eventually, I drifted away from my friends to look at flowers and lie in the long grass. I don't know how much time passed, but I know it went too quickly.

I can't remember the name of the winery anymore. I hope it's still there. And the dog-goats too.

Good Night

It's late, and I'm having a cup of Moroccan mint green tea and some dark chocolate before bed. If there is a better recipe for pensiveness and introspection, you may tell me if you like. But this one is not bad at all.

And what am I thinking about right now? Well, any number of things, really. I'm thinking about what a great show I saw tonight at The Mint, with my friends Yardley taking the stage among others, and turning out a fun, energetic performance. I'm thinking about how refreshing it was to go to a church this morning that actually sang songs directed to God, about how wonderful he is. I'm thinking about how the mint tea is a fresh taste in my mouth, and that the chocolate blends well with it.

I'm thinking I need to get some classical music onto my iPod.

Nothing connects, but that's fine. It doesn't always have to. And you know what, my life still seems a bit frayed and precarious when I let myself analyze it, but that's ok too. I might stress about that tomorrow, but tonight, when I am about to fall asleep and I am happy that the night is not hot or cold, but blissfully in between, and the sound of a single cricket drifts through my open balcony door, and I can hear my brother singing and playing the guitar downstairs...ah, well, tonight I don't really feel stressed at all.

Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child is my soul within me.--Psalm 131:2

Sweet dreams.

If Only...

You know what I really wish someone would do? I'd like someone to get all upset with me for going the right way in a mall parking lot, while he is trying to turn the wrong way on the one-way lane that I'm on, and I would like him to look all shocked and angry when I look at him incredulously for being such an idiot. I'd also like him to honk at me when I drive past, seeing as how I am, after all, the person actually going the RIGHT WAY.

Oh wait, that's exactly what happened to me today.

It's nice to know that wishes can come true, isn't it.

Hair and There

Every now and then, I have a day when I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt that I look beautiful. Hot, even.

Today was not one of those days.

For one thing, I need a haircut. Desperately. If I had my way, I'd chop it all off, but I made a pact with Becca last year, that I will grow it until I am 31. So I can only get a trim. But it looks so dreadful, and BORING. If I can't cut it very short, then I would like to color it. I'm tempted to go blond, even though I'm well aware that I don't have the skin coloring for it. Still...just once in my life?

But no, my 30th birthday is coming up, and I don't want a hair disaster for that momentous occasion. Sigh...

Speaking of my 30th, I have not planned anything for it. Some momentous occasion it's going to be!

Does anyone have any suggestions??? I don't have much time, it's on the 12th of June!

By the way, before I forget...Yardley will be playing this Sunday night at The Mint. Hope to see you there!