The straw

There was a kid standing in the middle of the lane. I had plenty of distance to swerve around him and I looked at his face as I drove quickly past. Why was he there, just standing in traffic? His face was open in expectancy. He looked trusting, trusting that we'd none of us fail to notice him in our paths as we sped down the thoroughfare in our big wheeled machines. His cheeks were red and his light hair blew in the wind. His mouth was open slightly, absentmindedly. What was it about him that made me feel like I'd been slapped in the face? I think it was his eyes, pale and wide and more innocent than anything I'd ever seen, unprepared for anything, unknowing, hardly seeing, pretty but vacant, and terribly, terribly young, so much younger than he was. I burst into tears and got the steering wheel wet with them and I've kind of been a mess since.

Whoa.

I think I'm an idealist.

My bloggy's baby

Even if it wasn't mainly authored by one of my best friends and in much smaller part authored by me, I'd recommend whole-heartedly this new addition to the bloggy world. Warning: politics ahead.

In other news, the tribal empire expands: the little owl, Miss Delicious and His Amazing Generousness himself, Sir Fulminous have taken up new posh digs! There may be some developments in this neck of the woods, too, if I can part with the sunshine for enough time to poke curiously through html for awhile.

Totally, completely stolen from Kellie:

Engrish.com.
L.I.P.

(It was offline for awhile.)

eeeeeeeeee--

--eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek!

Advertising

I love Air America Radio. But when I tune in and the first thing I hear is "Hi. We're Hootie and the Blowfish" -- well I just switch it off. Here's some advice for people who make public service announcements: Those of us listening really need to not want to kill the messenger, if the message is going to have any sort of impact.

Other occupations

Incidentally, I've been booked to guest-post this week over at UK blog commune Uborka. I'm publishing my heretofore unseen childhood memoirs in a series I'm calling "Sandbox Lamentations." Yes, I preferred the polysyllabic even before my years outnumbered my wee fingers.

Links to individual posts are in the extended entry.

Ismat instructs:

1. Find the nearest book.
2. Open to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post it.

"So there was a madness about wide-open beavers."

From Breakfast of Champions.

When I'm not writing in the blog (which is, obviously, a lot of the time),

I'm often checking out some of the things on this new section of the site (it's also linked above). I'm rediscovering my identity, once lost in the torrent of secondary and then higher education, of bookworm.

I'm half tempted to ask for suggestions of what to read next, but because of a habit of never leaving a bookstore empty-handed, I've actually got a decently sized waiting list already. But if you have a favorite, go on...

J.R.R. Toldyouthisguywasmessingmyshitup

Now Kate ... er, Katë ... was troubled greatly, for being without skill in craft or combat she was without employment and though she had ever despised the office where she had long toiled she wished now at the time of her unemployment for reinstatement, for her hands were idle and her mind not at rest. Many books did she read in this time, and many newspapers; and it was called Time of the Reading in the ancient language, or Ass Planted Ever on the Couch.

In that time her thoughts strayed backwards, first on the emptiness of the present and then on the failure and disappointment that had stricken her in the months that had gone before, knowing indeed that these misfortunes were but strewn as chocolate sprinkles over an entire ice cream cone of happiness, and yet saddened in despite. Further backwards did wander the thoughts of her mind in that time, turning to the winter that had passed, and ere that the summer, and ere that again the winters and summers of the College Years, and the more backwards even into the days of old ere the sundering of the heart of her mother from the heart of her father.

And it seemed to Katë, in the hour of her contemplation, that long had she been subject to the same disappointments by those in whom she had placed her hopes, so that a pattern made itself apparent to her: and thinking on this pattern she grieved, and spake that never would she be satisfied, so long as the pattern continued. But she erred, and did wrong in placing the blame of her dissatisfaction upon other shoulders, for ever did she even disappoint herself, failing in the goals she had set for herself. So it was that she took upon herself the burden of guilt and annoyance, and though she suffered not presently she had in her mind at all times the recollection of all her shortcomings.

Now it came to pass that all whom she knew were to be gathered together among the kegs and pint glasses of the campus pub. At her bidding were they to come, heeding the call of lager, from their homes spread along the Southern California coast, from Hillcrest to Hollywood. Many weeks before had they been bidden, promised the lager of which in this tale is told. And though Katë being without income was perhaps ill-advised in Planning To Buy And Drink Many Pints, she held firm nonetheless: and she spoke thusly, saying, "It's been kinda shitty recently. I am going to get DRUNK this weekend."

PS: The sad part is, this didn't even take very much effort or concentration.
PPS: Don't read The Silmarillion. Seriously. It'll mess your shit up.

Dilemma

Gmail user names must have 6 characters, so I can't be kate@gmail.com. What shall I be? All I've got so far are katekinks (overused), kate[mylastname] (nah), and thekate. Must think on this...

It's a 'various and sundry' post, but disguised by regular paragraph style so you think I'm actually saying something.

I've been sitting here for a long time, trying to think of something to write.

A very, very long time.

I'm unemployed, see, and so pretty much all of the time I've spent on the computer I've had at least in the back corners of my brain the urge to post something, nullified by the inability to think of anything about which I might post. And I've spent a fair amount of time on the computer. I've been on craigslist drooling over dream jobs and looking for apartments and subletters, and (more often) on factcheck.org and johnkerry.com and Google News and the Center for American Progress, and listening to Air America Radio.

(Because we really have to win this election.)

Side note: I feel like I need to work really hard at this cause, at making a difference in this big counting project in November, not only because so much is at stake, but also because promoting John Kerry doesn't come all that naturally to me. (Case in point.) Only since he spoke at our campus last week have I even genuinely liked him. Yet still I have zero Kerry pins, stickers or decals compared with my (very) small arsenal of Dean gear.

Anyway.

Aside from trying to self-educate, I've spent my unemployed life - which has been a week so far - watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (again (and again)), buying five albums, and reading three books. The effect of the book-reading, by the way, might have something to do with my own blogpostlessness, because taking nearly simultaneous doses of Vonnegut and Tolkien has only made me into a confusing mess of bare sarcasm and dreary verbosity.

The effect of the album-buying, on the other hand, has, I believe, added a lot to the Cool Factor of my collection, especially the collection of albums that's at my desk, which I rearrange sometimes to be sure only the best make the cut. I'm pretty sure you'd think I was Cool if you looked at this shelf I'm looking at right now.

(The albums I bought recently were Beck's Midnite Vultures, The Clash's Give 'Em Enough Rope, Snow Patrol's Final Straw, Tom Waits' The Heart of Saturday Night, and David Bowie's Hunky Dory.)

(The reasons for my reading Vonnegut and Tolkien are thus (and you see what I mean about the mixed style? You see?): as to the former, purely for personal enjoyment and because I hadn't yet read Galapagos or Breakfast of Champions; as to the latter, because I've decided to sit in on a Tolkien class in which the first assigned text is The Silmarillion and the result of which has been a number of conversations with other friends taking the class that have ended in giggles at the absurdity of sitting in the warm San Diego sun in flip flops and miniskirts discussing the Valar and the Noldor and the battles with Melkor while others around us peek over with curiosity, probably wondering why we aren't clad in dark capes and wizard hats.)

It's been an odd week.

As soon as my HR lady decides to stop being a brick wall and start being a conduit of helpfulness in getting me re-hired as a non-student, life will be back to normal, and I'll be at a desk every weekday doing work I despise and wishing I could cut out and race to the beach and read.

Odd is okay with me for now.

Ladies and gentlemen, Pete dot nu design.

Once again, my gratitude to Pete for having the artistry and skill to make my blog redesign dreams come true.

Unemployment, Day 4

I was about to scribble out a note to my housemate for so nicely cleaning up the bathroom sink, countertop and mirrors, but then I realized they only looked clean because the lights were off and I was drunk.

It's what I'm saying to everyone these days

I'm really, really sorry. Life is interfering.