February 28, 2002

I have no words. I

I have no words. I wish this was a joke.

Tonya Harding and Amy Fisher are getting ready to rumble.

Posted by Lisa at 09:24 PM | Comments (0)

No Kittens

There are no adoptable kittens in existence anywhere in Ann Arbor, heck, maybe not anywhere in Michigan! I suppose this is a good thing, really -- but not for someone looking for kittens! Yes, it's true. Things have settled enough at home that I'm ready-more-than-ready to think about having some buddies at home. But alas, there are no kittens to be had. Anywhere. Even the Humane Society is kitten-less.

I thought about it a lot, during this time I was sans cat. Max and I had SO much trouble after he got lost. I'm a little wary of something like that happening again. Then again, I think about the way he would greet me when I came home from work, and how he would bite my feet while I talked on the phone, and I get all mushy inside.

So, yeah. Looking for cats. At this point, I'm going to take a look at some young adult cats that are adoptable. I may think about adopting one adult now, and then maybe a kitten when one becomes available. I really want another living being in my house full time -- just as long as it's not another human being.

Rest assured, faithful reader, as soon as the big event happens, you'll be sure to see pictures of my new baby posted all over this journal. :)

Posted by Lisa at 02:31 PM | Comments (0)

February 24, 2002

Sunday Night Blahs

Sunday nights are not my best times. If I'm going to feel really depressed for no reason, it's going to be when I first get up in the morning, or it's going to be on a Sunday night. Brand and I have talked about this feeling a lot. For lack of a better term, I call them the Sunday night blahs. I get weepy, my stomach feels queasy, I'm dreading the week ahead, all for no real reason. It's all chemical. I know that. In fact, I'll probably be just fine when I wake up in the morning. Or I might not, but I know I'll still manage to drag myself out of the house, and by tomorrow night everything will be back to normal.

What am I dwelling on tonight? Well, I'm weepy over the closing ceremony of the Olympics, to start with the most superficial reason. I didn't get nearly as much writing done today as I wanted, and I'm still overwhelmingly behind -- at this point I'm almost positive I won't make the deadline. (Then again, at this precise moment I'm also laying odds the world will end in the next few hours, so take this with a grain of salt.) I'd forgotten until today, but my uncle is having heart surgery tomorrow, and I'm worried to death about that too. I was supposed to go visit him in the hospital today, but I didn't. He called, and I talked to him a little bit, told him I loved him. If I'm thinking dire thoughts about a book, I'm sure I don't need to say that my mindset is somewhat less than positive about this right now too. I don't want to lose another family member so soon after Grandma.

In short, I'm a big pile of negativity. I know, I know stuff like that rebounds and does the whole self-fulfilling prophecy thing, but trust me when I say knowing that doesn't make me feel any better. I mean, now if something bad happens, I'll have a reason to blame myself for it.

Right now all I want are about four more days to hole up in my house. Now see, I say that, but ironically, I'm also feeling kinda lonely right now too. Does it make any sense to feel lonely but not want to be around people? Of course not, but none of what I'm feeling right now is precisely based in rationality. I mean, last night I was pretty sure that all of my closest friends hated me. Was there a reason for that? Not one.

Wanna know the scary thing? This is a very very very mild depression. This, like I said, will most likely be gone within 24 hours. As irrational as I feel, I realize how irrational it is. Imagine feeling that irrationality for weeks on end, without realizing that there's anything irrational about how you feel. It's hard to describe to someone who's never experienced it.

Just let me hang on for another day or so, and things will settle down.

Posted by Lisa at 10:36 PM | Comments (0)

February 20, 2002

Thanks, Julie. You got -7

Thanks, Julie. You got -7 for Human? I got -8. We're scary.

I Am A: Neutral Good Elf Bard Mage

Neutral Good characters believe in the power of good above all else. They will work to make the world a better place, and will do whatever is necessary to bring that about, whether it goes for or against whatever is considered 'normal'.

Elves are the eldest of all races, although they are generally a bit smaller than humans. They are generally well-cultured, artistic, easy-going, and because of their long lives, unconcerned with day-to-day activities that other races frequently ccern themselves with. Elves are, effectively, immortal, although they can be killed. After a thousand years or so, they simply pass on to the next plane of existance.

Primary Class:
Bards are the entertainers. They sing, dance, and play instruments to make other people happy, and, frequently, make money. They also tend to dabble in magic a bit.

Secondary Class:
Mages harness the magical energies for their own use. Spells, spell books, and long hours in the library are their loves. While often not physically strong, their mental talents can make up for this.

Find out What D&D Character Are You?, courtesy of NeppyMan!

Posted by Lisa at 11:03 AM | Comments (3)

Not Like Yesterday

For On Display this month, I was asked to send a Valentine to myself. I thought about just posting an ecard to myself here for everyone to see, or taking a picture of one of those little school Valentines and posting it here. In the end that felt like a little too much work for cheating, really. (Okay, so it's probably not cheating, but it still felt like too much work.)

Oddly, when I first started thinking about what I wanted to say here, some lyrics came to mind:

I love myself today

Not like yesterday

I'm cool, I'm calm,

I'm gonna be okay...

For anyone who's unfamiliar with Bif Naked, she's not a quiet Jewel-like reflective singer/songwriter type. She's more the thumping guitars and pogoing around the stage singer/songwriter type. The first time I heard that song, I loved it. It's all about a woman who finally got up enough self-esteem to get over the guy who's been messing her around. (It occurs to me that the song is just campy enough to possibly be tongue in cheek, witness lines like "You left me free-falling like space junk / Burning up in the atmosphere of life...")

It seems like I write a lot of journal entries about how much I've changed -- but it's true. The first incarnation of this journal was called Crossroads, because that's where I felt like I was. Ironically, that feeling hasn't ever gone away. It's not that I haven't been going anywhere, mind, it's just that the crossroads are following me. I suppose it's a good thing that I'm always growing, but jeez. It'd be nice to reach a plateau once in a while. Then again, maybe those plateaus are when I stop writing journal entries, eh?

Anyway, Valentine stuff. Normally I hate the holiday. With few exceptions, every Valentine's Day I spent with a significant other was a disappointment. (Those exceptions are notable, like the year Gary wrote me a song for V-Day, or the 'diamond' tennis bracelet Bob got me my senior year in high school.) I've managed to spend most of the single Valentine's Days being bitter and grumpy. This year? I barely noticed it. I got a "Happy Valentine's Day" call from my mom, toyed with the idea of sending an anonymous Valentine e-card to someone I work with, but other than that, completely slipped under Cupid's radar.

That, as much as anything, is my Valentine to myself. My life has stopped revolving around whether or not I have a SO or a crush or someone to obsess over. (As much as Alanis Morissette makes me want to gack sometimes, a line from "Uninvited" applies: "I have simply wanted an object to crave.")

Now it's all about me, baby. I don't have time to worry about dating, dahling, not while I have so much to do! ;) So, I guess, Happy Valentine's Day to me, who's finally learned to be content with at least some aspects of her life.

Posted by Lisa at 08:52 AM | Comments (0)

February 15, 2002

Woohoo! The gold medal was


The gold medal was awarded to Canadians Jamie Sale and David Pelletier at the suggestion of the International Skating Union.

Admittedly, the solution reminds me of being a kid and your mom or teacher going "Okay, you both win." But still.

Posted by Lisa at 10:55 AM | Comments (0)

February 12, 2002

Okay, there's some justice, at

Okay, there's some justice, at least. Lord of the Rings got thirteen Oscar nominations, including Best Director and Best Picture. Moulin Rouge also got nominated for Best Picture and Best Actress, among others. (No music awards? For the musical?) Oh, I know neither movie will probably win the major awards, but...

The rest of the nominees are here.

Posted by Lisa at 05:50 AM | Comments (1)

February 11, 2002

I'm sure I was not

I'm sure I was not the only one yelling and throwing things at the TV screen.

"My heart breaks,'' Bezic said right before the medals ceremony, "and I'm embarrassed for our sport right now.''

The USA got robbed of the bronze, and Canada sure as hell got robbed of the gold. You know it's bad when the gold winners look like they're apologizing to the silver winners. You know it's bad when they stand on the podium and even they know they didn't deserve to win. The only people who looked happy were the bronze medalists. Feh!

Posted by Lisa at 10:00 PM | Comments (3)

February 09, 2002

Beware Falling Icicles

I watched the opening ceremony of the Olympics last night. As much as I've always loved the Olympics, I think that may have been the first time I actually sat down and watched the whole opening ceremony of one. Oddly, I've never really been interested in the Summer Olympics -- when I think 'Olympics' I always think Winter Games. I guess part of that could be because of my secret obsession:

Figure skating.

I can remember adoring Dorothy Hamill when I was about seven or eight (I was only 4 when she competed in '76), and I can remember watching parts of the 1980 Lake Placid games. I remember watching Scott Hamilton skate in 1984. I remember the battle of the Brians. Katarina Witt was the Evil Soviet Spawn. Gary and I rooted wildly for Debi Thomas and got our hearts broken. Ironically, I didn't watch much of the whole Kerrigan/Harding fiasco, but I followed it on the news. 1998 was probably the first Winter Olympics I didn't know anything about at all. But I fear this year my obsession will come through loud and clear. Partly, of course, because I actually have cable this year, I'm sure.

So anyway, I watched the Opening Ceremony. And cried. I cried during "God Bless America". I cried when the WTC flag was brought in. Then all the ice skating started, and I giggled. In case you haven't heard, the theme for this year's games is "Light the Fire Within". To represent this, we got to see a small boy carrying a lantern, skating around and being menaced by other skaters dressed as trees, snowflakes and giant icicles until the Fire Within (a former Olympic skater whose name escapes me), dressed in orange-red, comes to save him. The icicle costumes were... questionable. There was the comment on the blog, which had me rolling, and later, Jay Leno commented while watching the tape, "Why is the Klan chasing that kid?!" Laura described the whole scene as "German Expressionism -- On Ice!"

All was forgiven during the Parade of Nations. I don't know WHY I should find that so riveting. It's just a bunch of people walking into a stadium, but man. I couldn't tear my eyes off the screen. Everyone just looked so joyous -- bright glowing faces. I had to chuckle to see athletes carrying camcorders, and athletes even on cell phones as they walked into the stadium. The lone athlete from Bermuda wore shorts! Prince Albert of Monaco is competing. The Jamaicans are back, and this time they apparently have a women's bobsleigh team.

All I really have to say about the whole Native American portion of the ceremony is that the live golden eagle swooping around was cool, the skating golden eagles were cheesy, and I don't care what Laura says, I thought the skating moose and bison were both kinda cool.

Dude. Flaming skates. That was SO cool. That almost made up for the fifty million Village of the Damned-looking Children of Light. And then the 1980 US Hockey Team lighting the flame together. I remember that game, how it was touted as this great big "White Hat US vs. Black Hat USSR" thing. While it was a very stirring time, does it seem to anyone else that the Olympics sort of lost some oomph for us after the USSR fell apart? We really don't have an archenemy to root against anymore do we?

So the Olympics are on, and I am feeling unabashedly patriotic and sentimental. You've been warned.

Posted by Lisa at 09:49 AM | Comments (0)

February 08, 2002

Quote from tonight's Olympic opening

Quote from tonight's Olympic opening ceremonies, said with a completely straight face: "You know, Katie, it's never good when you're being chased by evil icicles who are up to no good!"

I shit you not. I about fell out of my chair.

Posted by Lisa at 08:52 PM | Comments (1)

Days of Inspiration

I woke up this morning and was immediately nostalgic. My mouth tasted like something had crawled in there, performed unspeakable acts and died horribly. My eyes, to paraphrase Green Day, felt like they were gonna bleed. My brain was as fuzzy as three week old bread. My muscles were sore and I winced as the radio blasted me into wakefulness, the DJs babbling about "Rollerball" or something equally frightening.

For an eerily blissful moment, it was spring of 1998 and I was a new MUSH addict. Sleep was a stranger for about a year. Nights were spent creating wild stories and dull stories, purple prose and poetic meanderings, being dramatic and being epic, or sometimes just being downright goofy. In the middle of it all, I was hanging out with people who would become some of my closest friends.

So last night I was up until about 4 am, sitting in front of a computer, creating wild stories, moving between purple and poetic, and chatting goofily with the people who saw me through that wild, sleepless season of my life. But of course, I wasn't MUSHing, I was working on the outline for my new book. I miss that sort of wild abandon that used to overtake me. I've grown up a lot, but in a way, I sort of resent it.

I am incredibly conflicted right now. I enjoy my new job. Most of the time. I enjoy using my brain at work and solving problems. However, I'm starting to chafe at the constant responsibility of it all. It's not that I don't want to be responsible, it's that I want to CHOOSE what I'm responsible about. I do not want to constantly worry about being responsible for customer service. I do not want a job that demands being my number one priority all day, unless that job is writing. My MUSH days are not all I'm nostalgic for. I miss my receptionist days, when I could get some writing done during the day without shirking my duties. There are days when all I want to do is write. Today is one of those days, and I can't do it, because I can't work and write at the same time.

Then there's school. I've been told that I can pretty much forget anything like flexibility for taking classes. If it's not a night class, I won't get permission to take it. Of course, this wasn't how I understood the situation to be when I agreed to come to support. Less flexibility, I was told, but still some flexibility. More and more I'm getting the feeling that if I stay in this job, I won't ever finish my degree.

I'm just... GRAR. I feel trapped. I love my life outside work right now. LOVE it. I love my apartment, I love living alone, but to keep doing all that, I have to make a certain amount of money. And right now, to keep making that amount of money, I have to sacrifice doing the things that are most important to me: school and writing. Which do I choose? I'm wondering. I'm actually wondering if I could/should go back to being a receptionist here. At least then I could go to school and steal some writing time during the day. But could I afford my rent? My car's going to need to be replaced soon, what then? I'm trapped by my own middle-class aspirations, apparently.

I don't know what to do, but I know that I'm growing more and more dissatisfied with the whole situation. Not with the work I do, but with the circumstances surrounding that work.

It's making me miss my days of wild irresponsibility.

Posted by Lisa at 08:56 AM | Comments (0)

February 05, 2002

I don't feel quite as

I don't feel quite as apathetic as I felt yesterday and for a good part of the weekend. This can only be a good thing, right? Car update: The damage estimate right now is up to $2000. I'm half-hoping they just decide to total it. :P

Posted by Lisa at 08:10 AM | Comments (0)

February 04, 2002

Bored? You can take a

Bored? You can take a quiz, all about me! All of the answers should be something you could find somewhere in the journal. :)

Posted by Lisa at 12:35 PM | Comments (2)


There was an ice storm here on Thursday. We got a lot of snow on Wednesday night, then on Thursday and Thursday night it started to sleet and rain and freeze. On Thursday night, I was sitting here, chatting online with the usual gang, when I heard a loud cracking outside. "Sounds like a tree fell down," I said. I looked out of my windows, but didn't see anything. The power kept flickering, and as I went to bed, it went out several times. I reset my alarm clock and went to bed.

Friday morning when I woke up, the light was all wrong. It was much, much too bright. I looked over at my alarm clock, and sure enough, the numbers were blinking defiantly at me -- the power had blinked again after I fell asleep. With a sigh, I got out of bed and started getting ready. While I was getting dressed, my doorbell rang. I answered the intercom and heard a man asking, "Do you own a black Escort?" I do, and told him so. "Can you come and move it for us?" Oh, sure. Must be the guys here to plow the parking lot. I got dressed in a hurry and headed outside.

"Sorry to bother you," they said. I walked outside, and they said, "We can move it for you, if you'd like." I couldn't figure out why they were asking me that, until I looked up from the ice covered sidewalk to where my car was parked.

A tree had fallen during the night, all right. The tree that had been hanging over my car the night before was now draped over my car, nearly concealing it from view. I think the only thing I managed to say was, "Oh my god." I may have said something a little more colorful, I don't remember. I let one of the men back my car out from under the tree, then I went back inside and started making phone calls. To work, to my mom, to my insurance company. The damage didn't look too bad, but I've always been a horrible judge of that sort of thing. The last time I looked at my car and said, "Oh it doesn't look that bad," it was several thousand dollars' worth of damage.

I really hate being without a car. I mean really. The irony is, most weekends I've stayed home all weekend, not even leaving the house from Friday night to Monday morning. This weekend, however, I wanted to do nothing so much as just GO SOMEWHERE. I wanted to see a movie. I wanted to go shopping. I wanted to go to Starbucks. I just wanted to go somewhere, anywhere. Naturally, I couldn't. I was pretty cranky by last night.

I'm renting a car this morning to get to work. The idea was that I'll rent a car for the first couple days, then find someone at work who can give me a ride to and from work. I should do that, really. However, I think not having a car will make me absolutely nutty, even if I don't plan to go anywhere other than work.

This was not a good weekend. Here's hoping the week will be better.

Posted by Lisa at 08:25 AM | Comments (0)