Quotable

Being Young and Green

Being Young and Green, I said in love's despite:
Never in the world will I to living wight
Give over, air my mind
To anyone,
Hang out its ancient secrets in the strong wind
To be shredded and faded—

Oh, me, invaded
And sacked by the wind and the sun!

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

Spring

My high school calculus teacher was very fond of writing quotes on the board. Sadly, although she no doubt wrote things more eloquent and profound, the only one that stuck with me (probably mostly due to its strained rhyming scheme) is the following:

"Spring is sprung,
The grass has riz,
I wonder where
The flowers is."

It's a funny little chant that tends to pop into my brain in the midst of dark and dank winter months, but now, as I sit in my yard with flowers all around (having, no doubt "rizzed"), I welcome it and all its illogical little charms.

For Spring has sprung with all its NOLA gorgeousness, and I am falling in love with this town again after having gone through a couple of months feeling slightly disenchanted and edgy to move on. Part of my resolve to stay has been the little existence I've spent the last six years creating, and the other part was just a complete lack of ideas on where to head next, and what to do there. Now, it's simply NOLA itself sneaking back in with the stealth and warmth my smallest dog employs to get into my bed at night when I'm sleeping. Where I wake up with her soft little body curled up next to mine and simply sigh happily into her caramel dog smell.

As I'm writing this two bugs are crawling across the arm of my lawn chair. They are the bugs that apparently get stuck at the butt in some bizarre mating ritual, where the male gets to have sex and forage for food all at the same time, bring the female along for the ride. Part of me finds this highly appropriate on such a fecund afternoon. Part of me is seeing this as a sign for relationships in general. And really, do I want to just be along for the ride, wondering when I'll get to eat? Nosiree, not this chick.

Still, my love life hasn't been at all bad lately, and I'm sure it would be better were I not to feel like I need to analyze everything that escapes the other person's lips as a critique of myself. For instance, I've been going out with a guy recently who really is quite fond of parking very close to wherever it is we need to be. When I once said he could park anywhere, I really do not mind walking, he said:

"I just don't understand far parkers. It's like they give up too easily."

Obviously, this meant that my practice of placing my Volvo out of harm's way by parking in a location that isn't too nuts, too close or poses very tricky parallel parking issues is pretty indicative of my lack of staying power on any project.

Or:

"You are obviously intelligent, well educated, and creative. So I am a little perplexed. It's very curious. Do you think you intimidate potential partners?"

I am a praying mantis, ready to strike at any moment.

Or:

"So (smiley face) when are we hanging out again? (smiley face) Because I think you're great. (smiley face)"

I am too easily repelled by the fact that you use smiley faces after every sentence in a text message. I am further repelled by the fact my new phone converts said smiley faces into little attenaed aliens who are gaping happily at me while I try to figure out a nice way to decline. The latter is not your fault, of course. But I am still annoyed because I have been trying to come up with that parting line for almost three weeks now and you keep trying.

Read: I am a heartless bitch.

Or:

"I had a really awesome time last night"

The boy was obviously very drunk, or somewhat surprised.

Spring is for lovers, indeed. But they're kind of a hassle. I am blowing off a promising date to have dinner with a friend this evening, opting for some real conversation that centers less on my inadequacies, and more on the sweetness life brings. Lychee martinis don't hurt either.

Also, the guy is a clinical psychologist. There is no way in hell that would ever end well.

Song

"My God,
It takes an ocean of trust
Takes an effort, it does
My God
It takes an ocean of trust
In the Kingdom of Rust."

Quotable

"How much better is silence; the coffee cup, the table. How much better to sit by myself like the solitary sea-bird that opens its wings on the stake. Let me sit here forever with bare things, this coffee cup, this knife, this fork, things in themselves, myself being myself."

The Waves
Virginia Woolf

Death

I am so annoyed at death right now. It's kicking my ass. I don't mean it's literally coming after me personally, it just feels like it might be involved in a conspiracy to drive me crazy. In short, I am sick of people dying. It is completely unfair, and there is no chance of an appeal. I think death should be more like the death penalty.

So, I've decided I'm going to say a lot of mean things about death in this post. Because, death can stop everything except the written word. Okay, if a bunch of technicians over at blogspot.com kick it, then maybe. But probably not because the machines are going to take over soon and they'll need something to read.

Here's the thing about death. In most cases, it is completely unwelcome uninvited party guest who throws the mood of the party off-kilter, leaves everyone with bad memories and tends to mess everything in the house up. Death is also inappropriate, but unfortunately there's really no appropriate way to deal with it. I am helpless and silent around death - not because I am worried about being polite - just because I can't seem to say anything that would change its mind, make it rethink things, call back its actions.

All I've got is "fuck you."

Like that suffices.