Peppermint

So I dyed my hair red again. Hurray! I've always had fun as a redhead, even if it was artificial (the color, not the fun).






I find I usually color my hair when I need to see results immediately. That being said, I am keeping my patient pants on. I have several ideas up in the air, all of them good. I'm learning to juggle- Metaphorically speaking. It'll be a hot day in February in Wisconsin before you see me juggle for true! We'll see what wonders the world has in store for yours truly. Everything has the potential to be awesome, if I just keep my focus straight and my mind uncluttered with everyday woes!

Am I Blue Clues

1. Blogging to validate emotions = silly.
2. In an effort to make up for the sleep I've lost over the past two weeks, I slept until 6:30. PM. Never a good solution.
3. I've discovered that I have gained back 12 of the 25 lbs I lost 4 years ago- within the past two months. However, I have not eaten all week- except for Thursday night, when the lure of Davenports and movies was all too tempting. But after viewing wedding pictures, the realization that there is not one flattering photo of one's self is quite disheartening and a confirmation of chubby girl syndrome.
4. In reference to the lack of food, it is because I cannot work up the energy to walk down to the store and purchase groceries.
5. Laundry, Jess, Laundry. It can't just pile up for a week and not get done. And yet there it sits.
6. I believe the cat has caught on to my mood, as he has started peeing next to Shakespeare, who responded with "Thy feline's fluids art super gross. Cut it out, you jerk!".
7. I wept, silently bawled even, at Where the Wild Things Are.
8. And I can't get over my frustration that the movie is being brushed off as a hipster joint. You know what film was directed at misunderstood hipsters and was incredibly flawed? Do you? 500 Days of Summer. There. I said it.
9. Regarding above post, I am easily frustrated over silly things and a little short with most people/office equipment these days. (Please refrain from short jokes. I get it.)
10. Massive daily, endless headaches. Not even the approaching holidays can cheer me up- which, if you know me, is a huge indicator of something being off.

I'm gonna take a shot and say this adds up to a blue spot on the Clark calender. One that I am very eager to be rid of. No one likes a mopey chick. Le sigh.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qlIU-2N7WY4

In honor of the Goddess

I am so lucky to have amazing lady friends in my life. True, I tend to get on with boys better, but my very best friends are all girls. Female companionship is incredibly important. I'm gonna say this, and I hope you won't misconstrue my meaning - I love women. I mean, being one can be beyond frustrating at times; some girls are catty, manipulative, malicious trixies- but mostly... mostly, I think we're amazing creatures. From our inner workings to our outer workings, the complexities and miracles of our day to day lives tend to go unappreciated, ignored and overlooked by our more... obvious qualities. While our sexual identity is important, it tends to overshadow everything else that we are. We're (as a whole) more empathetic human beings, which in my way of thinking, makes us more developed human beings. Because we're built to carry and create life, we somehow have a tendency to sacrifice and commit ourselves to those that we care for, far better than men can (as a whole).



Look, I'm not trying to rant or devalue men (you know I love you too), I just want to celebrate the women in my life - especially my friends. You girls are beyond beautiful and genuine human beings. I can't imagine the giant void that would be in my mind and heart if you weren't a part of my life. I just know each one of you has alternately challenged me and nurtured me; forced me to grow and helped me to understand what makes an obligation to other people's well being oddly freeing. But most of all, ladies, you make me love this life when everything else seems determined to get me down. And I know you'll always be there for me to turn to. Partially because you're women, but chiefly because you are unquestionably some of the most open, honest, thoughtful, sincere, talented, creative creatures on the whole damn planet. You're the blanket to my Linus.
You make my heart do this:




You know who you are. I'm glad we've stuck together. After all, sticking together's what good waffles do.

I just wanna know how it gets made!!

Another successful NYC trip. I mean, having a cute boy escort you around helps and all, but it sure was nice to get to see my cousin and some old friends. And. And. Wait for it. Rob Riggle. At Asscat! (the free improv show at the UCB theatre) Oh so good. Soooo Goood! Also Sanz and Levine and gangly boy from In the Loop showed up, but man, Riggle... I might have wet myself, just a little, when they announced his name. And now, I know I simply must get back into improv somehow. With an improv teacher for a mommy, that shouldn't be so hard, yes? But lorrrrrd chile', I am RuSty! I would need some industrial strength classes to get me back on track.
Moving along. Let's get to the real reason why I am posting. The flight back. I had an experience that led me to create a list of rules for guys who hope to pick up chicks on a plane.
1. Introducing yourself is nice.
2. Saying you remember a girl's face from the flight to NYC is... nice.
3. If she tells you right off the bat that she was visiting her boyfriend, back off.
4. Don't invite her to sit across from you and talk.
5. If you insist on pursuing such a lady, don't ask her questions like
a. do you really love your boyfriend?
b. do you say it?
c. how many times do you say I love you?
d. how many times have you been in love before?
e. do you think he's really into you?
6. If she answers in a manner that suggests she and her partner have a strong relationship, abort mission.
7. Do not:
-Show her the video of your arm being sliced up with a scalpel, followed by having art burnt into it for two hours. She is not impressed that you meditated your way through the pain of having someone cut off a layer of flesh. All she sees is a bloody, skinless arm. For two hours.
-Ask her to scoot over, turn off the overhead light and sit unnecessarily close to her. Especially when you smell like the pail we used to mop the bathroom at my old job.
-Excuse yourself to go to the restroom a million times, leaving her with aforementioned video, then come back with stories like the time you walked in on a girl masturbating in an airplane bathroom.
-Especially do not follow that story up with a suggestive look.
8. If you have not received the desired response by now- and lets face it buster, your moves are about as smooth as a cactus's taint- I would strongly suggest you move along.
9. Do not, as a last ditch attempt, suggest that the two of you go to the back of the plane to watch a movie. She will indeed be forced to shove you out of the way, run to the front of the plane, exclaiming "I feel turbulence! Gotta get back to our seats! Is the plane slowing down??"

I really hope that helps keep any of you fellas from making such grave mistakes as this poor young man did. I was a bit scarred. I mean, not as badly as this guy's arm, but still...

Failure face!

I used to have a Charlie Brown complex. Over the years, however, that has turned into a good thing. That kid was no quitter. I dig that. Here's someone who seems doomed to fail at everything he tries, but he doesn't stop trying. There's a lot to be said for that.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5y4_W-humw

And no, I'm not ashamed that I love this movie. It's definitely worth netflixing.

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A NOISELESS PATIENT SPIDER

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

W.W.

Fruit and flowers and pavement! Wow!

My first night back in ol' NYC after being absent for almost ten years, I was stopped by a very drunk, yet delightful train wreck who had to give me a hug because my dress looked like a "taxi cab". And if that's not reason enough to love someone, then I don't know what is. Oh, New York. Do people living there ever realize how wonderful you? Every, every minute?
Yeah, guess who saw Our Town off broadway? Hey hey. If you live there, I would highly recommend catching the production. Shall we talk a moment about the play? I've probably seen the production more times than I care to admit; sat through Emilys that made you want to rip out your own entrails and choke your self to death; been made to read the play a ba-zillion times... and yet, now that I am older, I have a fondness for it that I certainly didn't have when I was in school. I thought the play too sugary sweet, that it was "safe" and "dated" and just "redouchulously boring". And then somewhere along the way, that changed. It is amazing how many earth shattering yet totally insignificant things can happen in one day. It is beautiful and ridiculous at the same time. I never thought much of why Mr. Wilder was so insistent that his play have no set, no props; this production brought it all to light.
Spoiler alert for those who intend to go see it. You've been warned. Emily dies. Oh!
But seriously, I don't want to give away how they handle it if you don't know and don't want to know.
So you go through the whole show with just two tables set up in this black box theatre and there is a black curtain covering the back wall upstage. The actors are in very general street clothes and minimal props are used. Cut to the end. Emily has died and wishes to go back for an day, an unimportant one (as you all well remember). She chooses her twelfth birthday. The stage manager pulls back the upstage curtain and you are introduced to the Webb's Real Kitchen. After sitting through over an hour with no set, you are instantly swept away by how beautiful the home actually is: there's frost on the windows where the sun is just peeking through, there is real bacon cooking on the stove and the smell immediately fills the theatre... you've spent an entire show in the kitchen, but you've never really seen it until now.
It was brilliant. Just gorgeous- and needless to say I wept like a baby. Okay, I complain. A lot (couch!!). And, yeah, life isn't easy- but goddammit, it is also unbelievably beautiful- every minute, every person, every place, every morning that I take for granted... It's impossible, but I need to try and keep my eyes open as much as I can, because there is so much I don't want to miss.
To scoot along to another topic, I'll briefly mention that I had a blast with the bf this weekend. There were straight up Woody Allen moments, for sure; I met some amazing and delightful people and returned to place that I once was determined to call home. It still may happen. I have a less than a year until my lease is up and then we'll go from there. We'll go from there, ya know?