the danish outpost
updated when time and inspiration allow. latest and greatest always in the blog.
hump day, indeed. isn't it friday yet?

2000-09-20

feeling kinda how a girl feels

i was so wishing for a big can of Shut The Fuck Up the other day. taking the bus back to work, and we were infested with a half dozen teenagers, whose sole aim seemed to be winning the 'who's the loudest and rudest?' contest. and it wasn't that they were saying anything rude... they just kept talking over each other, louder and louder. what possesses them? do they not realize that taking turns speaking means that they would all actually get to say their piece? or is there some pubescence-related volume button of which i am not aware? yeah, yeah, yeah... i wasn't born 50 years old, but i seem to have conveniently blocked out any personal experience from that era. could not get off that bus fast enough.

update on the legal front: my stuff is going as well as can be expected, i guess. as for my morton salt girl sister, things have gotten a bit hairier. seems that her cat is AWOL, and we don't really know what that means. has the ex made kitty pot pie out of the cat? or just left the door open? or (as she threatened) taken the 14 year old cat to the pound? the last is pretty much a death sentence, as older animals rarely find adoptive homes.

however, the MSPCA and nearly every shelter nearby have helped out, offering support, indignation, and legal advice in equal measures. if the ex can't produce the cat, turns out she's committed a felony. hm. bet she wasn't thinking of *that* when she cooked up this latest wacky scheme.

at least we're all in one piece physically, eh?

had an interesting experience recently, hearing my journal entries read aloud to me. now, when i write, it's less an exercise in grammar and more an adventure in taming the myriad voices in my head. no, no! don't run away! there's no need to be scared! i'm really not that dangerous!

huh. perhaps i shouldn't have shared that little bit.

eh. anyway, i can very often hear the conversations in my head the way i would tell them, and try to capture that in my writing. the story then morphs into something else in writing it down, and publishing it in the journal. and then the story morphed again, when my best friend read a few entries out loud to me and another friend. it was flattering and odd to hear my own words coming back at me with a life of their own. hm.

said best friend is also my muscular therapist - thank you so much for attacking all those nasty little knots today, hon. am off to follow that up with a visit to the den of inequity, and hopefully a quiet night's sleep. hey gordon - no more thunderstorms, you hear? just knock it off already! ;)

yesterday tomorrow

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