Month: December 2003

  • Tomorrow I am flying away!


    Sagebrush and open skies, here I come. I have this intuition that something profoundly good is about to happen when I set foot on desert soil again. I have this vision of sitting in the middle of nowhere, beneath the stars  on New Year's, under a juniper shadow with a bottle of champagne. Good omens, huzzah.


    There are things I must do to prepare:



    • wrap gifts
    • make dinner
    • pack my pajamas
    • make sure i have clean undies
    • and clean socks
    • tidy up my room
    • plot out every millisecond of the trip/airplane ride
    • make gratuitous lists
    • panic
    • send my itinerary to my dad
    • imagine elaborate scenarios in which I am thwarted/detained/  flamboozled at the airport
    • eat extra breakfast
    • remember my toothbrush
    • suffer denial of my immenent departure
    • buy scotch tape
    • daydream about plane crashes
    • find something to read on the plane, while it crashes
    • bring sudafed (because i am still sick)
    • pack, unpack, repack, unpack again, and repack an extra sweater
    • how cold is it in Sannafay?
    • angst over which coat to bring, and mittens
    • decide i don't need a coat! it's the goddamned desert!
    • check the weather. again.
    • procrastinate
    • buy candy bars to stash in my carry-on
    • decide to bring really warm coat.
    • get sleep

    ooo, so piskyted.  kisses for B, soon. purr.

  • Monkeys jumping on my head.


    Thank heavens for quiet time. I have been marooned at my grandmother's house, faced with a horde of rambunctious child demons which insist they are my cousins. And I'm not even getting paid for behavior management.


    Occassionally an irate aunt or uncle storms into the fray booming about how we're not supposed to bonk each other on the head with pillows or huck dirty socks at one another, and inevitably glowers at me, minding my own business in the corner. Says something like, "oh, ANNIE'S in here." like I'm supposed to be controlling the situation because I'm a.) 24, and b.) a teacher. Ha. Ha. This is what chrismas vacation is for.  I'm  thoroughly enjoying the rampant sugar-induced ruckus, because I don't HAVE to do anything about it. Make more noise!


    Just kidding, it's quiet time. Which means it's almost bedtime!


    We were playing castle earlier and the little kids were fetching me cookies because I am The Duchess, so I promoted one of them to Wizard and the other to Grand Chancellor. We went on a trip to visit some Northern Peskimos and eat crepes, and kill the lumpy Lemon Merengue monster. And then there was a revolution and I had to hide behind a couch. It was very exciting.


    One of the monkeys just read this and said to me "You're 24?!? Oooo that means you can go to a CASINO!!!"


    bahaha.


    I ate too many cookies.

  • I didn't sleep last night.  The past few days have been messing with my head, and  as soon as I find a thought to write down it seems to vanish.


    I went with Bryon to the station today to see him off on his long trip to New Mexico. I'll be joining him in a week, to get a little fix for my desert jonesing, and ring in the New Year with him, the sagebrush, and the stars. I think it's a fitting way to start another  orbit, and mark the beginning of my new life.  New adventures, new things to learn. We are making plans, drawing up designs, plotting our escape together.


    He left only four hours ago, and  already I miss him terribly. I hung around the train station for a while afterwards, not quite sure how to deal with being sick, lonely, tired, stressed, and far from my bed.  I watched the travelers coming and going, making echoes in the vaulted ceiling with their footsteps and the rattle of baggage, all destined for someplace, some bus or train or friendly person to take them home. I didn't really know where I ought to go. My home had just bought a bus ticket and gone away.


    But this is not going to be about me wallowing in my solitude.


    I've had the flu - THE flu, for the past five days. The one that wipes out a couple of specimens from the human population every year, that really nasty strain that thwarts all the vaccines and sends an unlucky few to the ER. The sort of thing you really ought to call by its full name, that bane of victorian medicine, the Influenza. My parents had it a couple of years ago, and my mother ended up in the hospital, and I came home to take care of them for a few days. My father said they were so ill they could barely  get up to eat and take medicine and look after themselves. So they got horribly sick. I thought about this while I was curled up on the couch, half awake. I am no hypochondriac (most of the time) but generally I take most bouts of sickness in stride, drink some water, lay low, sleep. I have a killer immune system which makes most germs cower in fear, but oh, no.  I ran a 100-102 degree fever for two days.My roommate thought I should be brought to the hospital.  I couldn't move.  Mostly I don't remember anything, except Bryon looking worried and tender, bringing me water and leaning over me to touch my forehead.  I like to believe he somehow cured me, like he promised he would.


    At any rate, it so happens that the next day following that - Saturday- I was still doing pretty poorly, but I had promised my friends I would cook them a festive dinner, and show my pal Marta how to roast a chicken. I wasn't sure I should even go....not that I didn't want to go, but that it might be crucial for me to stay in bed and rest. But I thought, y'know, a little holiday thing, maybe ten or twenty good friends, drinking tea and eating mashed potatoes, that would be okay. Then I could play head chef and direct a few people on how to make stuffing, all while taking it easy, possibly wrapped up cosy in a blanket with my boyfriend and some soup, recovering my strength.  


    Instead, we made food for at least thirty guests. While I was still barely on my feet. I probably looked like hell, with blue circles under my eyes and barely the gumption to stand and chop vegetables, but I roasted two chickens with rosemary (rumors of which, I might add, were reputedly better than many people's mothers' and grandmothers' version), mashed some potatoes with butter and cream, and gave a lesson in the fine art of homemade stuffing. What I did get to sample of it, I must say, was pretty damn excellent. I was cheered as I walked down the hallway. The good thing was that it made me believe I had real skill, and maybe I really could have my own restaurant someday. I would like that. The bad thing was that no one got the jist how badly off I actually was, so it was really hard to find a quiet place to eat and rest. So mostly I hid in Bryon's room until the coast was clear, because half of Jamaica Plain was hanging out in the hallway and kitchen. Psssht, loud drunken scenesters, stealing my dinner.


    The best part was, they're all crunchy granola liberated art types, and I fed them evil tortured overfed hormone injected Perdue birds! bahahaha! Ooo, so evil.


    At any rate, other than being a little sad, I am feeling much better now.


     

  • Sick Day


    5 am: 98.5 degrees 


    -feeling half dead. attempt to crawl further under blankets.


    8 am: 100.1 


    -left a pathetic message on voicemail at school. boogers are a strange color.


    11:30 am: 102.


     -Seeing blinky lights. Have decided that I have that  deadly strain of influenza. Concoct elaborately delirious fantasy about B coming home in the nick of time to cure me.


    -all i want is a glass of OJ.


    -Curled up in a ball on the couch, pass out.


    1:30 pm: 101.5


    -decided I am dehydrated. attempt to get off the couch, fall on my ass instead.


    2:00 pm: 101.0


    -more blinky lights. begin to plot escape from couch, but cannot decide how to avoid the large technicolor rhinocerous in my kitchen.


    -ponder intricacies of the word "technicolor". Tech. nyeh. color. Wooee.


    -pass out


    4:00 pm: 100.5


    -awake suddenly. lurch into kitchen. discover rhinocerous has eaten my cookies, and then vanished. Drink water, go to bed.


    4:30 pm: 95.8


    -maybe i could call someone to bring me some soup?


    - decided that the last thing i want to eat is chicken noodle soup. Lay in bed contemplating soup.


    -soup, soup, soup.


    5:00 pm: 92.5


    - thought about Bryon, at his big scary architecture review. then feeling lonely, neglected and sorry for myself.


    -stared at ceiling. decided I ought to be a monk.


    -can art teachers be monks?


    -my hair is a mess.


    6: 45pm: 89.5


    - feeling guilty about wasting a whole day. decide to attempt some knitting


    -fail miserably at knitting.


    -do some laundry instead.


    7:00 pm: normal


    -feeling much better, but wondering where Bryon is.


    -also feeling lonely and resentful about having to look after myself


    -realize that noone will know/ believe I was on on the verge of emminent doom. precious sympathy points have been lost,  and my suffering reduced to melodrama.


    -discovered evidence of my illness, AHA!


  • Today at school:


    First let me explain where I work. Y'know that really obnoxious kid that's in every classroom- you might have even been The One i'm talking about- the one kid who the teacher was always sending to the principal's office or hauling to a corner somewhere, who was always shaving cats or bringing beer to school or setting fire to something? The kid who pees his pants and howls obscenities and won't sit still? The bane of every elementary school classroom? Yeah, that kid. My school is populated entirely with THAT KID. Condensed terror. Fifty of 'em. Booyah, what fun!


    I walked into the Scouts classroom today to pick up a batch of young artists for a daily dose of  mayhem - ergk, I mean, art class. The Scouts are the youngest troop of child-monkeys in my school, a true force to be reckoned with, and I pretty much batten down the hatches in my classroom before it's time for super fingerpainting fun-ness with those hellions.


    They're all pretty much insane. Like, even insaner than regular seven-year-olds. Which are completely batty. Just ask one about pokemon or dinosaurs. You'll see.


    So I walk into the room, and one of the Scouts is grinning at me. This makes me nervous. Sometimes I think they are plotting evil things against me with crayons and smiley face stickers. Or  spitballs. But this particular Scout started doing something really strange. Like, stranger than your average deranged child.


    With his eyes squeezed shut and his mouth open in a big round  "O", the kid sits there rigidly in his seat, hands clamped by his side. Sorta like a freeze-dried guppie. Then he starts turning his head slowly around from side to side with that big "O". First one way, slowly, then the other. And back again.


    WTF?!


    Then just as abruptly,  he leaps back into hyper-child mode, grinning from ear to ear. He turns around in his seat and proudly declares to me:


    "Guess what!!?! I'm a LIGHTHOUSE !!!"


    I nearly peed my pants.






    From "Sophie", age 8:


    Q: What is black and yellow, and screams when you turn it upside down??


    A:  A school bus!!!


    bahahaha!


     

  • Karma


    I gave Nick a call on my cell phone this morning while rounding the corner of Chestnut Ave and Green Street, to arrange plans for breakfast. Left a short chirpy little message, stuck my phone in my pocket, and continued on my way.


    Around the corner from my house I came upon a noisy shrubbery full of twittering birdies. 


    One of my favorite things in the world to do is quietly sneak up to a bushful of happy little sparrows and suddenly leap, throw my arms above my head, and yell "BLARGHK!" The abrupt swoosh of panicked wings beating the air and a whole flock of little hearts pounding in alarm is one of the most  amazing sounds on earth.


    You can imagine the ruckus.


    (Other things I like to chase: squirrels, caught unawares, and mangy seagulls on public beaches.)


    Should I feel remorse? I wondered as walked down my street. With food being so scarce after the snowfall, my little whim might have depleted a day's worth of panicked energy for each of those little birds. Tucked in my warm jacket, heading for a cozy house,  with plans for sustenance and companionship only an hour away, shouldn't I feel awful about terrorizing those chilly little birds? What entitles me, as a human animal, to amuse myself at another creature's expense?


    But then again, isn't that what a human being is, a thinking, feeling, creative, and ultimately destructive species?


    Why do I do this?


    When I got home, I wanted to call Nick again, but I couldn't find my phone anywhere.


    Hmmm.


    I spent a good hour tearing up my house trying to find the damn thing. I checked my coat pocket about twenty times, yielding a great deal of lint, a random glove, some pennies, and a ticket stub. But no phone.


    The worst part was, I started to realize my isolation without that little idiot-gadget. My whole means of contacting anyone of my fellow people is encased in that little module. The result being that without it, I am a lonely creature in a lonely ecosystem. No cause and effect. No communication. No mother, no love life, no friends to have brunch with. I have to eat crummy old cereal by myself.


    Maybe that's why I bother the sparrows. It feels like I have an effect on the world around me, to make them fly like that. It's a way of being part of things.


    After I ate my cereal, I went for a walk back up the street.


    And there, under the empty bush, was my phone.


     


     


     


     


  • While Snowbound / Internet Deprived:



    • wrote/sent 16 christmas cards to various beloveds

    • learned to knit. Badly.

    • baked a total of 4 dozen cookies

    • and an apple crisp!

    • attacked the clothes pile monster and was yet again thwarted by his socklike tentacles of despair

    • spent QT with Audrey.

    • built a snowman. He got smooshed.

    • Saw Nick in his underwear, in my bed.

    • saw a disturbing movie with Billy Bob Thornton and an angry midget

    • got whacked with a snowball,

    • and was vaguely asked on a super romantic pizza-and-beer date by said snow-projectile purveyor

    • finished lesson planning through the end of January

    • actually drew ACTUAL PICTURES in an ACTUAL SKETCHBOOK! *gasp*

    • plotted my christmas shopping list, decided I can make everything myself.  Yeah, right.

    • ate toast with peanut butter. So exciting.

    • Saw Josh in his underwear- at the same time as Nick- in my bed.

    • Contemplated the intricacies of having two ex boyfriends simeotaneously in my bed

    • Decided it would be best to leave the room

    • bought groceries at the hippie market, and was very angry at having to buy locally grown organic trendy raisins.

    • talked to my Mum nearly every day

    • Put the fear of the Furious Annie into the hearts of Comcast (Bastards!) Rahhhr!

    • Saw Bryon in his underwear (Woo-hoo!)

    • Decreed an official "No Pants in My House" night

    • Ate apple crisp at Doyle's

    • tromped around in the deep snow

    • rolled around in the snow, diving headfirst, when no one was lookin'

    • pined away for my email access

    • Was stalked at the bus stop by a creepy smoking guy with oily hair who mutters to himself

    • Walked all the way home from work across town to avoid taking the bus with aforementioned skeezball

    • Contemplated whether getting whacked in the head with a snowball counts as a romantic overture

    • got some pretty green-smelling yellow flowers from my favorite pants-less wonder.

    Good for me!


     

  • you got me lifted shifted higher than the ceiling


    and ooh whee, it's the ultimate feelin'


    you got me lifted


    feeling so gifted,


    sugah sugah.......how you get so fly ?


     

  • Aha, it has stopped snowing! Now I will go out and prowl.