A Meerkat's Bolthole

Remember how eager you were to wash the dust of high school from your heels (and every other part of your body)? It was a good idea, oh my younger self. You needed that time away, to grow, to get over the various traumas, to let living-life center you and settle you and lighten you all at once. High school is meant to be survived, not relived.

And yet...

Drinks with Old Friends tonight, and it's amusing, oh past self, how very little has changed...and yet everything has changed. The faces and the voices are the same and yet We who were 16 and 17 no longer exist -- the frustrations and fears that drove us like spurs are burned away and in their place live calmer, more easily amused-by-life souls. It's good.

But the shots of Southern Comfort? Those were bad. Very, very bad. *kicks Patrick for ordering them*

EtA: I am informed that, after I left, two more rounds of shots were ordered. Another thing, oh my past self, we have learned: when to say "no mas."

"Cat, if you are not doing the paperwork, get off it!"
----------------------------
note to self: Next time, just give the Girl Scouts your money and leave without the cookies. It will end better.

*nom nom nom*


Also, please note icon. Send coffee.

sushi and sake are just really nice things. really. a weekend with sushi and sake is a good weekend. although I'm still recovering from that wasabi-wow dumpling thing...

note to self: you have enough hobbies and interests. stop picking up new ones. even if they are shiny. especially if they require you going to chinatown and buying specialty cookware. although while you're down there you could pick up some dried goose, and some proper tea, and....

also? you should not refer to Uncle Sugar as "that great marrow-sucking wart on the collective American backside." at least, not in public. even if it does make your advisor laugh.

And thus ends the weekend

it's been threatening rain all day, but none has appeared. cranky-making. there is a glass of single malt waiting, and new reading material to dive into*. a nice rainstorm would be the perfect background noise. shall have to make do with the sound of Boomer snoring.





*"The 'Disloyal' Grape: The Agrarian Crisis of Late 14th Century Burgundy." Not exactly a Locus chart-topper, no....

Note to self: saying "I need to eat something that isn't coffee" around 1pm, when you've been up since 6am, is a warning sign. I repeat: A WARNING SIGN.

Second warning sign: the only thing not-coffee in the house is salad and a half-empty jar of peanut butter. Added a grocery store run to the to-do list today, so now at least there's red meat in the freezer, and pasta on the shelves.

Have written 3100 words today, progressed further in moving the office of Occasional Employment to the new locale, and been through a writers' group meeting. Feel like an old rag, well-wrung.

I also feel like I should be saying something witty, or insightful, or at very least useful in this space, but everything I know is such obviousness to me, I can't imagine why anyone would be interested. So tell me what it is you want from my brain. Open thread time!

And of possible interest to, well, me: ESPN has acquired both Cricinfo.com and Scrum.net. Oy. Must...resist...timesinks... (it's not that I love either sport madly; I just can't stand there being things out there that I haven't -- given the chance -- at least poked around in a little. No such thing as too broad a knowlege base)

/random sundriness.


retrievers #6

"Destroying something when you weren’t quite sure what it was – stupid. Especially when on a boat, on water, with no easy access away from any major explosion, implosion, or other kind of boom."

Busy and busy with a coating of busy on top of that, but popping in to get something out of my brain and into some sort of semi-coherence. Hopefully it will be of interest/use to someone other than myself, as well.

Speaking in moschus's LJ of Robin Williams' style of comedy, I said:

"It's not that he has no fear: rather than he embraces his fear and makes it his bitch."

Yes. Exactly. Creativity in Action. Not just writing, but life-creativity. The thing that takes us beyond rote and inertia and makes us interesting.

That's not to say that everything you do needs to be out of your comfort zone. Comfort zones are good, and healthy, and, well, comforting. And anyone who says there's something wrong with needing comfort has their own Issues and should deal with them before preaching to anyone else, 'k? We all love a comfort cuddle, or a comfort food, or a comfort blanky, because Life is Hard and Often Sucks, and comfort gives us shelter while we get back on our feet.

But here's the thing. Fear isn't the mind-killer. It's the ass-kicker. And that's both bad (if you go off into the corner and cringe) and good. Good, because whatever is animating that fear? Has your number. And anything that has your number like that is a force to be reckoned with -- and co-opted as soon as possible.

If you're not scared, you're not taking any risks. And if you're not taking any risks, what are you accomplishing?


ETA the ritual disclaimer: The thoughts expressed herein are the opinions and meanderings of the author, and mean exactly what they say; anything else is what you're reading into them. They are not meant to replace qualified medical or legal advice, nor should they be taken before operating heavy machinery. All lefts reserved, the government's already taken my rights.

it is very difficult to

a) work

b) be cranky

when your cats insist that your rightful role in the universe is as their sleep-blankie...