veiled exuberance

none shall pass.

in lieu of sending xmess cards this year, i am going to send meaningful postcards on another holiday.  so i have decided.  i meant it to be groundhog day, but realized that that is in a couple of days now.  and there's no way i'm going to get the damn things done by then.  i refuse to be defeated by this - my tardiness or my cold.  i have therefore invented a new holiday.  it is called "Vale-Groundhog day" and it falls somewhere in between groundhog day and valentine's day.  and you celebrate all of the things that groundhogs love.  flowers and bugs and ginger cookies.  oh, yeah, ginger cookies.  trust me on this. 

i shall write about the massive endeavor that this became in a little while.  like, tomorrow, maybe.

this is what the cards look like:

posted by: juuitsu at January 31, 2008 15:08 | link | comments (5) |

Branta canadensis

we come out of the woods following the trail that leads around the lake and Belinda is just in front of me, waddling companionably and grousing to herself, to me, to the flora and fauna around us.  just to our right is the lake.  it's a bit dark and churny and the sky above it is the same - overcast, almost stormy.  she's never seen the lake before and for a moment it looks like she's not going to notice.  and then she does.  the transformation in her is immediate - from chatty to silent goose-on-alert.  she stretches her neck and leans her head sideways to get a better look.  and then she's a blur.  moving faster and more efficiently than i've ever seen her before, she makes for the lake, and then dives beneath the surface.  i can see her swimming just under the water as she speeds away from me.  i think i've lost her forever to this lake that she greets with careless enthusiasm and joy.  my comforts cannot compare.  i sit down midway on the grassy decline and watch Belinda pop up onto the surface of the water, where she paddles quietly.  her white chinstrap is the brightest thing on the lake. 

posted by: juuitsu at January 31, 2008 08:31 | link | comments (2) |

woke up coughing at 5:42 this morning and got snot in my hair when i blew my nose.  ugh.  i am now going to go boil myself in the hope that it will disinfect me. 

posted by: juuitsu at January 31, 2008 07:42 | link | comments |

 i'm trying to come to terms with the fact that not everyone was born (as i was) into a librarian dynasty.  it makes me crazy sometimes when i realize that libraries are just not on some people's radar.  at all.  they don't think of them as places where you can "try out" books, or places where you can get research assistance, or places where you can find stuff out.  they don't think of them at all.  a particularly glaring example of this came my way this afternoon:

Book Rental Service

was just thinking.  my sister does - alot - of reading, and spends like $1000 a year on books alone.  most of them she reads once then never looks at again.  is there any kind of like...video rental store but for books?  would make this a lot cheaper, plus once one person has read one the next person can get enjoyment from it, etc.

(pictured here)

argh.

i hope that was a joke.  but even so. 

posted by: juuitsu at January 30, 2008 18:02 | link | comments (3) |

i bought and cooked a spaghetti squash tonight.  it had a sticker on it that said "MARGOT" and a picture of a little red-haired girl.  which i guess is how the spaghetti squash envisions itself.  i'm not sure how i feel about eating the little red-haired girl.  ok, i guess.  she was slightly sweet and stringy like spaghetti.  delicious.  i am going to make lasagna out of her tomorrow (in my neverending quest for the perfect lasagna).  it will be meatless - sorry, oberon. 

i have a lot of things that i want to write.  and a lot of notes that are piling up in various places around my apartment of things TO write.  i keep telling myself i'll get to them.  eventually.  i will.  i'm sick again.  AGAIN.  anyone remember how a couple months ago i was complaining about illegitimate uses of sick time?  yeah.  so i'm not going to do that anymore.  ever.  or at least until i forget how stupid it actually is to be sick.  bleh.

o. and i were going to see a movie on saturday, but he came down with The Flu or A Flu or something that steamrolled him into uselessness.  so i brought him nyquil and dayquil and lozenges (mmm, lozenges) and soup.  did you know they card you when you buy nyquil?  they do.  it's more economical to buy crap booze than it is to chug nyquil.  fyi.  since i rarely buy either i was kind of taken by surprise when they wanted to know how OLD i am.  good thing i didn't think about it too much or i might have launched into Explanations, "oh it's not for ME."  and they've probably heard THAT before, right?  anyway.  after all the drugs and fluids, he seems to be rallying. 

i went home to see my folks and talked to my brother until 3am, then woke up feeling not quite as great as i had the day before.  what was i thinking?  and, last night, as a droplet of mucus formed on the rim of my nostril i cursed my stupidity.  here we go again.  *sigh*

k.  so that's all for the moment...until i have more energy and less sick and more of those aforementioned notes around me.

posted by: juuitsu at January 28, 2008 20:22 | link | comments (4) |

i bought some of those toaster strudel things.  damn, they're tasty.  crispy, flaky, warm gooshy raspberry AND frosting.  i've been laying in bed the last hour thinking about getting up but not making a lot of progress.  i guess the two blankets and multiple layers of clothing were too much, because i woke up mostly undressed with no recollection of having gotten myself that way.  the temperature was perfect under the covers and i was reluctant to actually get out of bed and conduct a search for my missing attire.  o. texted me about fairy rings around the moon at 6:30, and then again at 7:30 about the powerful red ray of the rising sun.  neither were visible from my windows here.  alas.

i dreamt i'd moved.

i've been living in this new place for at least a couple weeks now, but none of my stuff is here yet.  the landlady has advertised it as "unfurnished" but she seems to be redecorating it.  maybe this is just part of what she does when she shows a place.  i can't wait for her to remove her stuff, though - it's so not my taste.  the place/space is really nice and i can't believe she's only charging $710/month for it.  she's either clueless, or there's something she's not telling me about this situation.  so far, it's a little inconvenient - like, this past week?  she removed the refrigerator and some of the kitchen cabinets while i was out - without mentioning that some work was going to be done.  good thing i didn't have any food...  but, come to think of it, all of my dishes were in one of the cabinets she took away.  i hope she intends to bring it back.  the water's also been intermittent.  will probably have to talk to her about that.

HER things have to go.  there's a foot rest in the kitchen that seems like it ought to be paired with a comfy chair (chair is not in existence anywhere).  when i came home this evening, the foot rest had been re-covered with one of those fabric dressings that you can buy and then tie on - thin pink and cream stripes.  she's also added valances to some of the windows - dusty rose with FLOWERS - they poof out ever so slightly and stylishly.  there's now a glass topped chrome coffee table in the living room, and the fridge and cabinets came back with a new coat of paint, but she's rearranged everything so i'm disoriented when i walk in the door. 

she's waiting for me at the dining room table (also not mine) with a large laminated copy of the LEASE, which we still have not signed.   i read through it and it seems pretty standard - except for the monthly rent, where she's written $710 - $1300.  while i'm reading, family members and friends start arriving - with lots and lots of baggage.  i think they're making her nervous - like maybe we're not the kind of people she wants living in *her* apartment.   i ask her, "what's this range all about?" pointing to the rent.  she throws up her hands and smiles in a flustered way, "oh, i just don't know what to charge for it."  "well," i say, "we agreed on $710, so that's what i'm going to pay..."  she's nodding enthusiastically, "oh!  that's fine, that's perfect!"  k.  just so we've got that cleared up.  i ask her if she needs a security deposit.  she's not sure.  she asks me if *i* think she needs a security deposit.  then she narrows her eyes, "you're not the sort of person who's going to give me Trouble, are you?"  "no, ma'am," i say.  "well, i just don't know..." she trails off.  so i offer to write her a check for $1000 to cover the first month's rent and a security deposit and she seems happy with that.

my checkbook is on the table in front of me along with the checkbooks and wallets and purses of all of these people who have just arrived.  i'm looking for a blank check and there don't seem to be a lot of those.  i have those carbon copy checks, so i'm tearing out some of the carbon copies so i can find the actual checks.  mom or dad asks me a question about the hideous pinkness of the place (i think they actually like it), and when i look back this woman, laura, has torn most of the checks out of my checkbook, and they are scattered all over the table.  i can't find the actual checkbook anywhere - only everyone else's stuff.  laura just sits there.  no longer being destructive, but certainly not being helpful.  thanks, so much, i tell her.  and then i glare.  hard.  she bursts into tears, and i sigh.  this is not helping.

i must have found some way to pay my landlady, because she's putting on her coat, getting ready to walk out the door.  i walk her there and mention, casually, that she'd advertised an *unfinished* apartment.  and that i have my own things that i need to move in here.  and that in order to do that, she's going to have to move *her* things out.  and i ask if she knows about when she might be able to do that, because i really don't want to have to move twice and/or put my things in storage while she takes her damn sweet time.  she avoids answering my question by blathering some nonsense about being late for other appointments, then rushes out the door before i can ask her again.

i glance over at o., who has been watching this exchange, and he raises his eyebrow at me.  i shrug.  can't do anything about it right now.  i take him back to one of the bedrooms and we look out the windows (these are now dressed in *blue* floral curtains; *sigh*).  we're several floors up, and the windows look out onto the roof of the lower part of the building.  one could crawl through and out onto the roof.  we'll do it as soon as everyone leaves.  it looks warm out there.  and peaceful.  and best of all?  my landlady has not attempted to decorate it.

posted by: juuitsu at January 23, 2008 08:14 | link | comments (4) |

so, i've been thinking about this book a lot...  and i hope to find time to add more to my review later (see below!).

 

Boy Toy
by Barry Lyga

 

When Josh was twelve, he was sexually involved with his twenty-four year old teacher, Eve.  She was young and pretty, he was physically and intellectually more mature than most kids his age.  To Josh, it seemed like their relationship developed slowly, naturally.  Eve was doing a research project and she needed Josh to be her test subject.  Josh’s parents were always working, so arranging for Josh to stay late after school or go to Eve’s apartment was preferable to him coming home to an empty house.  Eve’s husband was a video-game designer, so there were plenty of video games around her apartment for Josh to play.  It was ideal in so many ways.  But then things got more intimate, and Josh was way too young for what happened next. 

 

He started having the flashes – where vivid memories of past events would take him away from the present.  He couldn’t stop thinking about Eve.  And then he ended up in a closet with a friend of his, Rachel, and she wanted to make out.  But Josh didn’t have any idea of what normal thirteen-year-old making out was like.  So he did something that scared her and that’s when everyone found out what had happened to him.  And Eve went to jail.

 

Now, it’s several years later and Eve’s getting out of prison on good behavior.  Josh is still broken in ways that he can’t fully understand.  He hasn’t talked to Rachel since the closet incident; he avoids Rachel like his life depends on it.  But they run into each other one night and she gets him thinking about what happened and talking about it.  Their new and fragile friendship begins to deepen, but Josh knows that he can’t go anywhere with Rachel until he can wrap his mind around what happened with Eve.

 

Josh’s story is powerful and personal.  It will make you squirmy and squeamy and uncomfortable, because that is the nature of the subject.  And while you’re in his twelve year-old mind, you won’t know if his relationship with Eve was right or wrong, and you won’t know if she loved him or led him on.  Everything that you think you know about how much age difference matters will be set on its ear.  So, it’s not for the faint of heart.  It is brutally honest and real and extremely well-written.  I have no idea to whom I could recommend it, and I’m not sure what I can say about it except what I’ve written here.  I hope it finds an audience because Barry Lyga has told a really compelling story.

***EDIT*** (1/23/08)

so i agonized a lot over whether i should add this title to our collection.  i got a review copy from the publisher and it sat on my desk for another couple weeks after i finished reading it while i thought about it.  during that time, other people were talking about it on one of my listservs and the discussion was really engaging.  someone mentioned this quote, which i shall paraphrase, since i don't know if i'm remembering it exactly - "kids are already living stories that we wouldn't let them read."  yes, they are.  and in some cases that's really scary and awful.  i don't know if it's helpful to know that Things Like That happen to other people, or that they can happen (and reading about them in a book is at least a safe place to find out what that might be like), or if it's just natural human voyeurism that compels us to step outside of ourselves, or if we like to be scared/scandalized/horrified.  and do we need reasons/justification for our reading choices?  i don't think so.  "i liked it" is good enough for me (of course, that makes it difficult to find more books *like that* - if we're doing a reader's advisory type of interview we may need to delve deeper).

people on the listserv were comparing Boy Toy to Sherman Alexie's book, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, for, you know, content with the potential to offend.  people who had read both were expressing the same things i was feeling - there really isn't a comparison.  readers of Alexie's book may  object to a masturbation scene/discussion thereof - but that's pretty normal for teen books and teens in general.  describing the lust of a 12-year-old for his 24-year old teacher and their sexual acts in a way that almost turns you on?  that's another thing entirely.  people called it "graphic."  but it wasn't graphic like these acts have never happened in a book before or graphic in the sense that everything was described with delicious erotic detail.  it was graphic because it made you grapple with your morality - is this right, is it wrong?  there's no question most of the time.  it's that ambiguity, at least for part of the book, that had me at the edge of my seat.

is this book going to be a problem?  i hope not.  the best books for us make us think about things.  i don't want to limit people's reading choices, although, i'm constrained somewhat  by budget and space.  and i don't want to be intimidated by what *might* happen if someone should object to this book's presence in our collection.  what irritates me is that i went into this decision making process thinking "uh-oh" before i thought, "this is a really great book!"  if i were selecting adult fiction?  it wouldn't have been an issue.

YA publishing is known for producing a lot of *problem* novels, too - books that take issues and really explore them realistically, like sexual abuse, relationships, teen pregnancy, violence, drug use, etc.  i don't think authors are determined to corrupt the youth through these stories they write - most of them just want to tell a compelling story.  and so many of them get flack for including *realistic* language or situations - because they're writing for young adults.  it's like they aren't allowed to let the story take them where it will.  do you think that books/stories would be less effective/compelling if all of the gritty stuff were removed? 

occasionally, i have people come to me with concerns they have about items in our YA collection.  i think it's happened maybe 3 or 4 times - mostly regarding nudity in graphic novels that we have in that area.  i've moved a few things into the adult section, but you can't/i shouldn't have to move everything because one person objects to its placement and existence.  i think part of the difficulty is that "young adult" can span so much time developmentally and intellectually and emotionally - i'm collecting materials for kids in sixth grade through seniors in high school.  there are definitely going to different levels of maturity among those kids and among the books they choose to read.  I've explained this to people before, and they've been mostly accepting.  i think they see the "children's" collection as something completely safe (though, the definition of *safe* has got to be different for everyone), and some are under the impression that the YA area is the same.  i don't think either is or can be.  if you care that much about finding something that's personally objectionable to you within the pages of books, then read what your kids are reading!  discuss books with them!  make it ok for them to come to you with questions and concerns.  

posted by: juuitsu at January 22, 2008 13:07 | link | comments (2) |

last night i'm both me and not me and i'm watching myself strap on all of this underwater breathing equipment in preparation to throw myself into the viscous darkness of the night time sea.  frankly, it's making me nervous, but dream me is confident, practiced, calmly checking air gauges and buckles, and wet suit seals and the proper fit of her flippers and mask.  there's nothing out there but the void and there's not much light to see the sea, and we'll be so far beneath it when we're jettisoned that it will all just press in around us.  i'm scared for us, but she's not.  there's a ship out there.  nearby.  we're diving out, swimming over.  someone will let us in.  and there's more once we're inside, but i can't think too much beyond what's going to happen when we leave *this* vessel.  she, however, never looks up,  never acknowledges my fears.  and it's her self-assurance that finally convinces me we know what we're doing.  we slip quietly into a chamber half-filled with water and there are the noises of doors closing and water entering.  but our eyes are shut until we feel the pull of the sea itself.

posted by: juuitsu at January 16, 2008 11:13 | link | comments (3) |

what the heck?  so i was in the middle of writing something, and then i got up to roam around because it's getting to be that time where i get antsy about getting ready for work on Wednesdays...and i was brushing my teeth in the bathroom and thinking, you know maybe just this little paragraph is fine, because that's all i have to say about it right now.  and i came back and my computer had shut itself OFF.  goodbye.  see you later.  i'm done.  that kind of off.  and no way did it save the thing that i'd written.  i don't know how to combat random fits of pique from my computer.  but i'm telling it now, this *better* not happen again.  it's up there with things with which i shall not put up. 

posted by: juuitsu at January 16, 2008 11:02 | link | comments (2) |

i'm making tea.  my tea pot has lost its voice, though, so it's sort of a hit or miss process.  i remember to pay attention for about 30 seconds to the water in the pot.  is it boiling?  should i check?  and then, ooh shiny, i'm on to something new.  and maybe 10 minutes later i remember i'm making tea.  oh.  tea.  by now the water is boiling furiously in the pot.  no whistle, though.  maybe it's just being polite.  doesn't want to interrupt.  had a bad experience in its youth.  maybe it needs love, counseling, my understanding, *your* understanding.  or a day off.  or some pampering.  a vacation somewhere southerly?  we have a warm relationship, but it's not like we talk.

posted by: juuitsu at January 16, 2008 10:48 | link | comments (2) |

band name meme...

Band Name: Răchiţele River
Album Name: Spot into the Sun
Album Cover (make with the clicky)*


* this person went to the trouble of protecting their photo, so i'm going to respect that and not copy it here with my alterations.  but, essentially, the idea is to scribble your band name and album name onto the *cover*

wanna make your own?  instructions here.

posted by: juuitsu at January 13, 2008 20:53 | link | comments (2) |

a note for later, maybe.  kicking through the underside of someone's very large expansive deck.  house set into a hill, walking down the slope with a bunch of other people.  i'm in front.  the woman behind me is holding onto my shirt - with both fists.  makes the shirt uncomfortable.  what's worse is all of the spiders, enormous bugs, enormous not-bugs crawling, waiting in webs, and/or dead with all of their legs pointing skyward.  my feet are tangled in webbing and i can hear exoskeletons crunching every time i so much as move.  i am just shy of vomiting my displeasure.

posted by: juuitsu at January 12, 2008 06:52 | link | comments |

the road to well is paved with phlegm.

*cough*

:(

posted by: juuitsu at January 09, 2008 08:16 | link | comments |

received a lovely handmade gift for my b-day...did not take the best picture of it...but it is shiny and neat-o.  thanks, jm.

posted by: juuitsu at January 08, 2008 20:00 | link | comments (2) |

waking up.

ugh.

the first time my alarm went off i figured it was just a courtesy call - it fit seamlessly into whatever i was dreaming about, where men in shiny red vans make phone calls at obscenely early times of the morning just so you're up in time...for whatever.  i ignored the courtesy call until i realized that it was actually something *i* had to do something about and not something that was just going to stop on its own.  i hate that.

after resetting the alarm i slept another hour and then hit snooze the next three times it beeped at me.  i'm tired, dammit, leave me be!  but no.  i stumbled past the window in the front room, bleary and confused, and thought i saw mountains beyond the railroad tracks.  "omigod, i can see mt. fuji," said my brain.  "shut up," said i.

happy happy happy happy...gray, stormy day.  now if only i didn't feel like i'd been reheated, ingested, digested, and excreted, i'd be able to enjoy this lovely weather we're having. 

posted by: juuitsu at January 07, 2008 08:07 | link | comments (1) |

i got up somewhat earlier than planned (if planned is a loose promise you make yourself  at 3am to eventually crawl out of bed and do something later in the day).  i had a weird dream snippet i wanted to jot down on the computer, rather than on a piece of paper where i 1.) generally write in the dark without my glasses on because i do not actually want to give myself the impression that i am *really* awake.  2.) generally cannot read these notes penned in the dark - not least because i am half asleep when i write them, but also because my handwriting is a mixture of chicken scratch and doctor signature under the best of circumstances.  3.) often, have little recollection - depending on when i return to said notes - of the dream itself.  so then i've wasted time and somnambulance.  anyway.  here.i.am.  the best thing about being awake so far is the cinnamon roll i just ate.

o. made secret plans for us yesternight.  secret from me plans; he knew very well where we were going.  i find that i like being surprised.  a lot.  i spent a fair amount of time wondering what we were going to do, but not asking outright, because it was more fun not knowing and just anticipating Good Things.  so we drove into the city, listening to something from pseudopod (in my case, half-listening, because i was looking around and thinking about where we might be headed and what we might be doing).  o. pulled into a parking lot and announced that we were probably 4 blocks or so from our destination and we were going to walk the rest of the way - he thought i'd like that.  i did.  with all of the snow and the cold and my infernal desire to hibernate this winter, i haven't been outside much.  and as much as i hate being stuck inside all the time, i hate being cold even more.  so we walked.  toward navy pier. 

i've been there a couple of times.  bom went through this navy pier phase where she talked about it constantly and how dad would never take her down there (he was working in the city at the time and didn't want to go back on the weekends).  so i figured out how to get there on public transportation and brought her down one saturday.  we had a good time.  went on one of the architecture boat tours (didn't get much out of it - except a bit of a boatride - because the speaker's sound system was really messed up), had some lunch, walked around, watched seagulls for about an hour.  it was peaceful.  went back last year for a conference - it was mobbed and it took forever to get lunch.  ditched the people from work and did my own thing. 

but o. and i weren't headed to navy pier.  he steered me to the left of it and we ended up at a restaurant - Dick's Last Resort.  immediately upon entering we encountered a group of kids who had either brought some kind of booze with them to the restaurant - they were underage - OR had fake ID.  o. thought the former, i thought the latter.  maybe we're both right.  all i really overheard was the guy at the door telling them that it was "illegal for me to give this back to you." and shortly thereafter the kids left, presumably without whatever they'd tried to sneak in.  Dick's is one of those places where the wait staff are encouraged to be snarky.  i'm not sure if this is really different than other places where they are encouraged to be polite.  i'd rather they just be themselves wherever they are - and if snarky is their cup of tea, so be it.  our server was only slightly hostile.  he obviously had a shtick that he used with all of his customers, and, after hearing it a few times, i wondered if all of the staff were trained to do it *that* way, or if that was just *his* thing and if, then, they were required to come up with their own thing (and this started me thinking about Office Space and the 37 pieces of flair and individuality and being able to express yourself on the job without being required to do so - blah blah blah).  a group of 8 came in after us and were really drunkenly obnoxious.  the server was playing along with them and one chick tried to drag him back to their table, then stumbled and tripped him and they both went tumbling onto the floor.  exciting!  guess Dick's wasn't quite their thing, or it was for the first 10 minutes or so they were there and then they wanted something else.  so they left without ordering anything (except water, so far as i can recall) while he was away.  we, however, got good stuff.  o. got a bourbon salmon dish that looked really tasty.  he even offered me a bit of the salmon, forgetting that i'm allergic.  "it's not that i don't appreciate the gesture...i just don't so much enjoy the anaphylaxis."  it'd be nice if i some day un-develop that particular allergy; i really like salmon.  i had a seafood platter that came with lots of different breaded once-of-the-sea things and sass (sauces) for dipping them in.  and then we had an enormous warm brownie.  tasty.

there was also a jelly donut eating contest - annual, they said.  kevin won again.  just so you know.  he ate 8 jelly donuts in 3 minutes.

Dick's is similar to Ed Debevic's - i mean, so far as the wait staff are concerned.  Ed's has a more diner/60's flavor (it's like a sit-down style Portillo's).  the staff are kinda sassy and get up in your face and in your space, and sometimes they dance on the tables.  i ended up there a bunch of times in high school - lars had a party or two there, and i went a few times with stacylou and her mom, and a few with my family, and once with natalie (ok, so that time, at least, was in college).  they have these tiny, tiny sundaes - world's smallest sundaes - that you can order, and n. and i both ordered one.  the server brought them out and i forget what he said to set her off, but she ended up smashing it into his face.  amusing.  and then, when we left her her tip - all in change - she chased us out of the restaurant.  excellent service! 

o. and i went back to his place and watched "A Taste of Tea," which has one of the actresses from "Kamikaze Girls" in it - Anna Tsu...something (she had kind of a minor role).  it was strange, but delightful in a childlike, goofy kind of way.  some of Hayao Miyazaki's stuff has that quality, too - magical, odd, quirky.  i really liked it.

"what with one thing or another 5 years passed..."  i think i've taken this line - or something like it - from "Princess Bride" - William Goldman's book.  this is the power of transition.  and so, what with one thing or another several hours passed.  and then it was 2, and it was time for me to go home before i was too tired to get home.

posted by: juuitsu at January 06, 2008 11:56 | link | comments |

we're watching a fitness championship and there are two women out on the floor performing.  we've been talking about asses and one of the competitor's posteriors in particular.  Despite having gluteals that could - please, no demonstration is necessary - cut glass her butt cheeks are flapping as if take off is imminent.  i can't say it's not mesmerizing.  and since my attention is completely focused on the impossible physics of her buttocks - to the exclusion of anything else - i catch the extremely disturbing moment when she reaches so deeply into her shorts that her forearm disappears.  we all can't tell what she's up to, but as the music ends and she brings herself down from an intense balancing position (designed to show off her shoulder strength), her hand emerges from her shorts with a large fluffy white towel.  how she had *that* up there without displaying any kind of visual bulge none of us knows.  guy next to me whispers that she actually has an entire (small) suitcase up in her shorts with all of her *supplies*.  she doesn't trust her assistant to be fast enough to get them to her when she needs them.  it's one of the craziest things i've ever heard, but i totally understand the control freak in her.  my own inner control freak tips its hat, though she's too busy stuffing her towel back up in her shorts to notice our approval.

posted by: juuitsu at January 06, 2008 09:31 | link | comments (1) |

sergei scans the sky warily from the edge of the path where the foliage is thick and brushy.  he's nearly impossible to see if you don't know exactly where he is.  he's got that ranger knack of fading out and blending in to the environment around him.  if you could see him, the inscrutable expression on his lean craggy features wouldn't tell you much.  those of us who know him well might note the tension in his jaw or the extra white showing at the edges of his dark, dark eyes.  not being as controlled as sergei, who generally resembles the gray stone of the mountains that surround his valley (hard, unyielding), we would see these things and shiver.  we would see these things and know terror.  we would these small signs of anxiety and fear in sergei and know that anything that could make him uneasy was very bad for us.

it was just two days since the incident.

posted by: juuitsu at January 05, 2008 07:59 | link | comments (3) |

witch or woman?

it's still dark when i drag myself out of bed.  i can hear people in the kitchen talking as if they've already been up for hours.  what is the matter with me?  why am i so fucking exhausted all the time?  i squint through the screen of houseplants my mother has deployed on a cart near the window.  the african violets make the incoming light look more green than white.  suddenly, i'm awake.  i have to rearrange those plants and i have to get them away from my bed.  they're right next to me.  who can sleep when they're surrounded by so many things? 

my claustrophobia subsides when the plants are organized to my satisfaction.  i'm even able to wheel the whole cart into a space next to the window, which has magically appeared.  or, i was too tired to notice it before.  there's still crap everywhere.  i'm traveling with two other people and they've - consistently - been awake before i have.  the woman is someone i don't even know.  i never catch her name, though i've asked her for it multiple times AND she's told me.  it just doesn't stick in my brain - ever.  and she has all sorts of health problems, which keep making it difficult for us to do things.  but, it hasn't mattered too much, because we just end up doing whatever she wants to do anyway.  *sigh*  i'd be sick of it if i didn't feel so damned waterlogged. 

i really want to take a shower.  i can tell my hair is wild and knotted.  i'm wearing 3 layers of clothes because i'm so cold, and i haven't bothered to change them in the past couple of days.  my eyes and mouth feel similarly gummy and sticky.  yeah, i'm disgusting myself now.  the crap everywhere belongs mostly to the woman whose name i don't know.  i can't find any of my own things.

our other traveling companion is my boyfriend.  he's spent pretty much the whole trip with whoever she is.  i think he feels sorry for her, but it's getting to be a pain.  her needing to be felt sorry for, him fulfilling that need, my sleeping all the fucking time...maybe he *doesn't* feel sorry for her.  maybe?  she's just better company because i'm something close to comatose every time he sees me.  i'm annoyed with all of us.

after i find a shirt (is this even mine?) and change out of my multiple layers and rinse out my mouth - the shower will have to wait until i can find more of my things - i step into the kitchen.  they're just getting up - having finished, once again, without me.  nameless glances at me for a moment before they walk out of the kitchen and continue their discussion in my room.  my shoulders slump in defeat.  now they don't even *want* to talk to me?  how much more could this road trip suck?

i sigh and go into the bathroom instead, which is just adjacent from my room.  so i can hear my guy telling nameless that we should *all* go for a walk.  and i can hear nameless telling him about the multiple medical problems that are going to make any kind of walking painful, impossible.  i feel so much better hearing him try to make walking sound fun, telling her how far we walked in colorado - what we saw, how beautiful it was.  i get distracted by my face in the mirror.  oh my god.  i barely look like me.  and there's...something...all over my face.  it's like glue and i can't get it off easily.  i scrape and scrape and scrape and forget everything else in my desperation.  oh, please come off.  please.  please.  please.  i'm crying when i jump into the shower with more energy than i've shown in days.  soap removes all of it - whatever it was.  i think of nameless glancing at me in the kitchen.  did she see what was on my face?  did she know about it?  did she put it there?   i don't know what to think.  and i know i'm keeping everyone waiting.  i've got to hurry.  this can't also be my fault.

but when i'm dressed - still can't find most of my stuff - i discover that my keys are missing, too.  on top of everything else.  when does it get to be ok?  when does it get to be the proper time to really curse my luck or nameless or whatever or whoever for all of these setbacks?  mom comes in with her there, there brand of comfort and we find my keys in the pocket of my jacket, which my brother informs me *nameless* tried to sell last night while i was sleeping.  what the hell is her deal?  what does she want?  my wrath?  my guy?  my everything? 

i'm still not quite together, but i head to the living room - last known sighting of traveling companions - to tell them that *i* want to go for a walk, and that i just need to get a few things before we can go.  you've probably guessed it, though.  they're gone.  i can't see them anywhere, i can only hear their laughter as they walk away in some invisible direction.  they didn't wait for me.  i think this was my last chance.  and i've failed completely.  a weight settles around my shoulders.  a voice that isn't mine tells me to go back inside - they won't be back.  is it her voice? 

posted by: juuitsu at January 04, 2008 08:58 | link | comments (7) |

purely unpredictable people

memory comes flooding back when i step into the foyer of the hotel.  i can remember this place, and i can remember what happened here.  almost, i feel the welts, the bruises, the blood, rising up under my skin - further reminders of the map of hurt he laid out on my body last time we met.  some back brained reflex takes over and i start to shiver uncontrollably.  this is animal fear. 

i would run if i could.  but i'm trapped in this series of events knowing that they will inevitably play out.  my only advantage is memory - remembering exactly what i did last time, remembering what he did, hoping that even if i can't escape the environment that at least i can make different choices - maybe that will be enough.

"Room 213," announces the woman behind the desk.  she's holding out one of those key cards.  we both smile perfunctorily - i'm preoccupied with survival, she's thinking about the 12am shift changeover and Carlos with his thick, dark, curly hair.  i watch as her eyes lose their focus.  Carlos is *really* hot.  and *really* distracting.  it doesn't appear as if she'll come back on her own, so i clear my throat.  she looks surprised and pissed to see me still standing there in front of her.

"Yes?" she says icily.

"I was wondering if you could tell me if a Mr. X has arrived?  We're..."

she cuts me off, annoyed, so i don't have to invent a relationship for myself and Mr. X.  that's good.  i wish there *was* no relationship.  there isn't, yet.  i wish there were never going to be a relationship.  i even hope for a minute that there *is* no Mr. X, despite all of the psychic triggers.  she murders that hope in its sleep as she points to her computer screen.  "He's arrived.  He's down the hall from you in 201.  Would you like me to put you through?"

"Oh no," i say as i back away from the desk.  "It's late.  I just wanted to make sure he'd gotten in.  I'll see him tomorrow - we have breakfast plans."  she smirks at me then, and i know i've said too much.  breakfast plans?  why did i add that?  stupid, stupid.  and now she's going to remember me.  maybe mention me to Mr. X.  i shake my head as i climb the stairs.  i'm overreacting, panicking; she's *not* going to remember - she's thinking about Carlos.  i just want to avoid Mr. X.  if i fail to make an impression on him...maybe he won't remember me either.

posted by: juuitsu at January 02, 2008 08:52 | link | comments (3) |

we totally got busted by the cops.

a cop.
in a cop car.
and me with the lit punk in my glove-d hands.

"hi, officer!  happy new year!"

:)

monkeybaby's husband had one, too.

we tried to appear nonchalant, like we hadn't just set off a bunch of roman candles, or that huge box-y thing that lit up the entire neighborhood for several minutes.  or the bottle rockets.  or the little spin-ny light things that i liked so much.  nope.  not us. 

we quit after our warning.

the neighborhood came out to watch and then wonder along with us who (if anyone) had called the cops on us.  we think that probably the cop car was just driving around anyway. 

since we were already outside we shoveled the snow so i could get my car out.  then we watched the end of the documentary we'd started earlier.

monkeybaby and i made sock bunnies.  monkeybaby's husband was bored, bored, bored with us and went upstairs to play computer games.  this is generally what happens.  he asked me what i'd do to entertain them if they came over.  um. yeah.  i don't think i have much in the way of other people entertainment at my place.  at least, nothing that they couldn't do at home.  except for the rabbits.  he may be laboring under the impression that i am the dullest person there is.  but i can't really imagine him getting into the more simple joys of my life - full-contact wrestling, youtube hell, art, and writing.  oh well.  people need to be their own entertainment.

but hey, the fireworks were fun!  that's the first time anyone's let me anywhere near them with an open flame.  and i did not injure, maim (or kill), anyone around me.  yay!

posted by: juuitsu at January 01, 2008 02:14 | link | comments (2) |

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