I HAS A BLOG?!

I totally forgot about this space.

Nice to know I have it.

I might even use it once in a while...

And in not so interesting news...

I just had a "shadow person" incident. I think it was trying to steal my covers. Or maybe it just wanted to snuggle.

I don't know.

But now? I am totally creeped out and feeling oddly violated.

I can't sleep, no matter how hard I try. I think I will lay down on the couch and watch chick flicks until I get bored. It won't take long, I am sure. Rom-coms always put me to sleep.

Best insomia cure EVER.

And, I am pretty sure that all that sappy sweet cutesy wootsy bs will give any shadow dude pause before thinking he can snuggle up with me.

/later

A loveletter

Dear Universe:

I would like to exchange my allergy "dust" for another allergy of equal or greater value. Perhaps an allergy to "electric jellyfish" or "dodo feathers". I would also be willing to do a double exchange:two for the price of one. I am willing to accept allergy "frozen cactus juice" or "sandworm spit".

If I unable to exchange, I would simply like to return it for store credit.

No love,

-me

Blackberry Lime Flan Recipe

Blackberry Lime Flan

¾ loosely packed brown sugar ( ½ and ¼ cup separated)

3 eggs

1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk

1 (12 fluid ounce) can evaporated milk

2 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

2 tablespoons key lime juice

3 tablespoons dark spiced rum

¼ cup smashed fresh blackberries. Drain liquid.

Directions

1 .Preheat oven to 350 degrees F

2 .In a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, melt ½ cup sugar, rum and 1 tsp of lime juice until liquefied and golden in color. Carefully pour hot syrup into a 9 inch round glass baking dish, turning the dish to evenly coat the bottom. Set aside.

3. In a large bowl, beat eggs until frothy. Beat in condensed milk, evaporated milk, remaining sugar, lime juice, blackberries and vanilla until smooth. Pour egg mixture into baking dish. Cover with aluminum foil.

4. Bake in preheated oven 50 minutes. Let cool completely. (usually over night)

5. To serve, carefully invert on serving plate with edges when completely cool.



(DO NOT USE FROZEN BERRIES. It will add too much water and your flan will not set.)

Since I don't have cable TV, I don't watch TV.

Pretty simple, no?

Since I don't watch current TV, I  can't really tell you anything about any show that is on right now. If it happend to be on ten years ago, I might have caught. Generally speaking, I don't really care about what is on the telly, because I have my head stuck in a book... and probably no popular, non interesting, non fun books that you hate, too.




I know that there are lots of good things out there, and lots and lots of bad things, too. But who am I to judge that? My favorite movie of all time is Conan the Barbarian, ffs. And I love the eighties.

There.

I said it.

Bring back big hair and new wave! Bring back Mtv! Bring back androgyny!

Also, if I like a show, it will die. This is a true and factual statement. (This also happens to bands that I love.)



Case in point: Dead Like Me (cancelled), BSG (jumped the shark), Pushing Dasies (cancelled), My So Called Life (cancelled), Twin Peaks (cancelled) Firefly (cancelled)... the list goes on and I am tired. But you get the point.

And like the shows I love, terrible, terrible things happen when I make plans to go to concerts!

In 1994, I personally bought tickets to watch a little band called Nirvana. See, I loved Nirvana. I was fifteen. And, like every other band that I have personally bought the tickets for-bought, not given-the lead singer has died. I also killed Jerry Garcia and Bradley Nowell. Sad, but true.



With Nirvana, I got caught smoking on campus, got in serious trouble, ran off, came back, got grounded and had to sell my tickets. Cobain was dead within a couple of months.



With Grateful Dead's Garcia, I bought the tickets, flew in to San Fransisco for the concert and missed the show. He died within weeks.



WithSublime's Nowell, I was planning on seeing them perform when I ran off to California with my boyfriend. We broke up and I never made it out there. Nowell was dead within a couple of months.



Blind Melon front man's Shannon Hoon died shortly after I made plans to see them in concert.



I made plans to go see Michael Bolton with my mother and he lived. It was tragic! (just kidding.. or am I?)



I don't go to concerts anymore. Like, ever. I have been to a few here and there-most of them impromptu. Well, I should say that I don't buy tickets anymore or announce long term plans to see anyone in concert.

Really, it is for the best. If I went to every concert that I ever wanted to go to, the world would be out of great music.

Flower Planting with Grandmother

Gramma: OH OH OH! Don't you put those flowers in my backseat! They will get dirt everywhere.
Me: But the trunk is really hot. Don't think that it is good to get them that hot just before we transplant them, do you?
Gramma: I don't want them in my backseat. *claps hands at me* Now, you put those in the trunk!
Me: Oooookay. In the trunk. *does this*
Greenhouse guy, coming out of the warehouse: Ma'am? Where do you want this? *hefts bag of manure compost*
Gramma: Oh, just put it in the backseat. That'll be just fine!

Ain't No Body Goin' Read This

Now that this class is over, I am loathe to give up this blog because, A) It is very handy and B) I can blog FROM MY Mo'FN destop, ya'll!

So. What to do? Link it to Facebook? Ain't nobody going to read it then, either.


Good Fried Grief.

I have too many blogs.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh! and now I can blog straight from my desktop. It is like being plugged straight into the mainframe. Ain't y'all so lucky?

You know...

I wish that I could take better photographs. Like, seriously take better photographs. When I try to photograph it, my artwork always looks like shriveled up bear poop. On sticks.

It might be worth looking into. Classes, I mean. Not ursine fecal matter. On sticks.


Let's not forget that part.

If pets could talk...

If this was early this morning I would say it was something like this:




Molly-the-cat: Are you awake yet? Are you awake yet? OHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! You ARE awake! Are you awake? Awake? Are you? Are you now? What about now? Because, if you are, and I don't want to be a bother, but if you are awake now, I would like more food. So are you awake? What about now? No, no... don't get up on my behalf. I don't want to be a bother. But if you are awake... Are you awake? That arm flopping, throwing pillow thing usually means you are awake. So are you? Awake that is? I mean, if you are already up, I would really-



Me: *sits up on the side of the bed and hits the alarm clock* "Ungh..."



Molly: Oh! Hey! Good two legs! Wake up! *rubs against my leg to let me know I am a good girl for getting up.* Now that you are up, I want to talk to about-are you still awake? What about now? Okay, good. I want to go outside. First food and then outside. Outside. Outside! Food. Then outside. OhmygodI NEED OUTSIDE. Food, first. Are you awake? Can I go outside? What about now? Are you awake?



Me: *gets out of bed and heads towards the kitchen.*



Molly: *herding* Oh, Good! You are finally awake. God, that took like, five minutes! I thought I was going to die. Outside? Can I go outside? Outside? Oh, and food? Then outside? Outside? Open the door! Open the door! Open the door! Forget the foods open the DOooooooooooor!



Me: *opens the door and boots the cat onto the wet porch and then shuts the door behind her.*



Molly: HOOOOOORAY!!! I has an outside!! And I love it! *runs into the grass* OHHHHHHHHHH MY GAWDDDD It's full of WET!!!!! Let me inside! Inside! Open the door! Let me inside! Let me inside! Oh, God! It has a wet! Get the wet off! IT IS ON ME! I NEED INSIDE! INSIDE! My yard has a wet and I need inside!

...And this is what I have given my life over to. This light, this reason, this need to articulate my self in color and form. I cannot imagine myself as anything else. Without this, I would shrivel up and wilt on the vine. Without this ability to create, my world would be nothing but the most desperate shades of grey. It is the only thing I have ever been even remotely great at. At the very least, I am not afraid of it and that is something.

My creative writing class has dropped from like 30 down to about 13 over spring break.  I don't know if they really dropped, but good grief! No one is submitting their stuff! We had more when the class started, but the qq became to much and some people just never came back. Oh, the agony! The tweets read will read:



"@supersexychic02809 Have 2 work 2 hard n clas. He wants us to right stories and shit!"
"@randomemoteen He dont undersant me. I am a poet! My mom agree."
"@supersexychic02809 OMG4rl!!!1 Want 2g2 Starbucks? I got my allowence. My dad sux! I recked my car n he was piszed!"
"@randomemoteen R U okay?
"@supersexychic02809 Y.My scion is toteled. I have been hit five times, only 1 my fault! Why is he so mad?"
"@randomemoteen Parents suk!


Something tells me that I am totally okay with this. Suddenly, the quality of writing has gone WAY up as a whole.


This week, we had to submit our scripts. I tried to write the one ya'll polled on, but it flailed. So I wrote something else instead and it was pretty groovy. Even hateful douche said it was pretty good.


One girl wrote this Christian Moral play. She's actually a really good writer,but everything she has written so far has been a faith-based thing. I feel bad because I am writing about blood and guts and cussing-no sex yet-and this poor kid has to read it. Also, I would really like to see something that she wrote with her own personality, if that makes sense. I would like to see her, rather than a sermon.


Sadly, for her that is most likely a sin. One wonders why she would attend one of the most liberal colleges in this state (not saying much there!) when she could attend any number of very devout religious institutions in the same city. I personally wound up at this university because it was the only on within driving distance that wasn't faith based.


After seeing what my sister went through to get into her college... She had to write an essay on sin, sign some paperwork agreeing not to have sex, use drugs, drink or otherwise have fun while in college and get her preacher to write her letters of recommendation. Unless she was married, of course. And then she would be under obligation to procreate. Which she promptly did as soon as she was married, but that really has nothing to do with the college and is more of an oops! than anything.


Yes sex, drugs and drinking. No to procreation. That is my motto. The world will be a better place for it. And if it isn't, I will be too torked up to care.

I CAN HAS TITLE

I keep seeing this "Oh, now Ima gonna pack up all mah bags and leave this country because it has gone to hell" posts.



Let me ask you this...



Where are you going to go? Seriously.



WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU MOVING TO?



What other English speaking country does not have "socialized" healthcare, freedom to bear arms and a very strong right-wing conservative Christain? TELL ME?



Canada? Nope.

England? Nope.

Australia? New Zealand? South Africa? Germany? Austria? Switzerland? Maybe Mexico? or how about Haiti?



WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU THREATENING TO MOVE OFF TO? Where, in this whole world, are you going to find another country just like Amerika but better?

Everytime I get myself all OMGUSUK about my "writing", I wind up realizing that I am only 1/3 as bad as I thought I was.

With revision and work, it might not even be that bad. It isn't like art. I can't just look at it and know whan it is done or that it was good or that I am satisifed.

I can't even tell if other people really like it or not, mainly because I can't see thier faces when they read it-unlike when they look at a painting.

Admission-

Allright. I admi it.

I took a week of from writing. It has been wierd, you know. Since I blog or write something every day, this weeklong lack of verbosity is starting to clog up my inner circuitry.

Starting next week, I will be returning to my usual monkey-shines. Not that anyone will be reading those particular things, but heh? Whatever, right?

The Third Option

A woman, strange in her bones

Dirty knees, clean dishes

Broken Amarillo snow globe in rum

Snow, snow, snow, whoa, wrist, backwards

Look, I have a red hat!



Three-Five-Seven equals strawed berries

Three, Three, Three, Three, Three, Tree

Tree, Tree, Tree, Tree,

              Fencing on fire

              Pop rocks

              Rock talks, talking heads, headphones,

              Phone home-

The phone rings, but you never call.



Three is prime.

Prime time. Prime time in the sunshine, baby!

BBQ and family makes us happy, but

It also gives me indigestion.



Praise Jesus and pass the ketchup,

Whatever it takes for you to shut up!



Robot garbage, mechanic change, candy canes

Canes are knickers, knickers are optional

Optional is rational but not logical and reasonable

And reasonable is no good.



No good at all.



Two packs, Jack and three of those

Who’s put this picture here?

          Dad, mad, glad, sad, had, BAM!



Glasses in the rosebush,

But there were no fish.



Three, three, tree, tree, five and dime

A dime is also prime. But not ten.



And not one.



                 No. Anything is better than one.

Oddly enough...

I took this class so that I could continue to write more. And then I realized that I don't really *want* to.

Or at least not right now. I mean right now this point in my life.  Why is that? I want to so badly at a time and place where I cannot and then, when I can, I am all... meh?

Foo.

Also, I made a dutch apple-pear pie tonight, so this "Don't wanna write right now" bullshit may just be the pie talking.

/off to sleep off the pie high.