Tarot Card

You Are The Moon

You represent the unconscious side of life, what happens in dreams. You are capable of great genius - but also of great madness. Emotions tend to be primal for you, both your fears and your fantasies. Your intuition is always right, listening to it is the difficult part. Your fortune: You are about to embark on a very important journey - and a very difficult one. Some of your deepest dreams will be realized, as well as some of your deepest nightmares. Follow your creativity and visions; stay away from your weaknesses. You are taking a voyage to the center of yourself, and you may be pleasantly surprised by what you discover.

What Tarot Card Are You?

How evil am I?

You Are 32% Evil

A bit of evil lurks in your heart, but you hide it well. In some ways, you are the most dangerous kind of evil.

How Evil Are You?

Insomnia

"I'm so tired, but I can't sleep
I'm standing on the edge of something much too deep
It's funny how we feel so much, but cannot say a word
Though we are screaming inside, we can't be heard."
~Sarah McLachlan

I know I've posted that one before, either on this blog or a previous one, but it's just such a great lyric, and so fitting sometimes.

There was this episode of Ally McBeal once: an elderly lady, who (if I recall correctly) had been one of Ally's school teachers at some point, hired Ally to get a court order allowing a doctor to put her into a medically-induced coma. There was nothing wrong with her physically. The thing was, she lived her life through her dreams. In real life, she'd never married -- never had a family -- was lonely and depressed. Every night, however, she would dream an entirely different life -- one in which she had a wonderful husband, children, a beautiful life in general. She wanted to be put into a coma because her dream life was so much better than her real life that she wanted to live in her dreams all the time.

I can kind of understand where she was coming from. Not that I have an enchanting dream life -- I tend to have the kind of nightmares that make me wake up screaming, if I manage to get to sleep in the first place. But I can relate to the desire to want to check out on life and just sleep forever. I can totally relate to that.

That's right, phuckers.

I used my bike last night. I actually pedaled on it. I was beginning to think it was all just a pipe dream; that I was going to be stuck with a pedal-less bike that would function as nothing more than some bizarre piece of living room sculpture, never to be used for its intended purpose, mocking me in perpetuity, but no. I pedaled. Achilles went nuts and kept barking, growling, and trying to bite my feet whilst I pedaled. I think he thought the bike was attacking me or something. Today, my ass hurts. But just a bit. Not enough to keep me from pedaling some more tonight after work. I feel more in shape already.

New Digs

The new addition to our office is finally completed, and I moved to my new digs yesterday. Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Except for the fact that it is absolutely freezing back here, this is wonderful! It's so quiet. So peaceful. So roomy. Nobody bothers me. I can actually work without being interrupted every thirty seconds or having to wear ear plugs to drown out the extraneous noise. I believe I may actually begin to enjoy my job again!

Further good news is that, now that I have shed ten pounds since New Years, I have dropped one clothing size and am back into a size six. I went shopping after work yesterday and bought myself a couple of new outfits to celebrate. Woohooooooooooooo!

In other news, I checked the mail before I left for work this morning and found a package from NorDICKtrack. I didn't have time to open it, and I left it in the car when I got to the office, but one can only hope that it contains a LEFT PEDAL this time. Cross your fingers!

NorDICKtrack, indeed.

OH, MY GOD!

What is WRONG with these people?!

I arrived home after work this evening, armed with my second pedal, all ready to put the finishing touch on my bike and go for a spin.

Until. I realized. THEY SENT ME TWO RIGHT PEDALS. I have TWO RIGHT PEDALS, AND NO LEFT PEDAL.

These bastards are lucky I'm (a) an animal-loving vegetarian, and (b) not Italian, because otherwise I'd do like the Mafiosos do and send them a severed horse head.

All I wanted was an exercise bike, so I could, you know, exercise. Is that too much to ask? Am I being greedy? Is it wrong to be this upset just because I got my bike a month and a half ago, and I STILL CAN'T USE IT?! I'm a patient person. Really, I am. BUT NORDICTRACK IS PUSHING ME OVER THE EDGE.

Finally!!

Those pricks at NordicTrack have finally supplied me with the remaining pedal for my bike! Now I can actually use the damn thing, rather than just staring at it wistfully as it sits in my living room, mocking me. Maybe I'll even lose some more weight! I've lost ten pounds now since New Year's, and that's been with no exercise whatsoever. Another ten pounds should be a piece of cake now!

Speaking of New Year's resolutions, I've also continued reading like a fiend. I finished The Executioner's Song, then read Slaughterhouse Five and Animal Farm, and am now about a third of the way through Into the Arms of Strangers: Stories of the Kindertransport. This is some serious, painful reading, so next I'll probably read something a bit more lighthearted. Maybe The Integral Trees should be next on my list.

Big Brother and the Errant Brick

When I was 21, I briefly dated a guy named Neil, who had recently been hired at the restaurant where I was a waitress. One night, about five weeks after we'd started dating, we had gone out barhopping on Sixth Street and had gotten separated at some point. I went back to Neil's apartment to wait for him there, and shortly after he got home, we went to sleep. Shortly after we'd gone to bed, completely out of the blue, Neil sat up in bed, told me to get the fuck out, and then proceeded to beat the living hell out of me. I later found out that, after we'd gotten separated on Sixth Street, he'd hooked up with some people who'd given him some cocaine, and he was high as a kite. That was the end of our relationship.

In any event, he beat me so badly that I was bedridden for a couple of days. The following evening, I was supposed to go to a concert with Steve and our friend Annette, but had to cancel because I could barely sit up in bed. When Steve found out why I couldn't go to the concert, he went into a full-on big brother rage. He told me a day or two later that he and Annette had gone to the concert, and had then driven to Neil's apartment building. They found a brick and tied a note to it reading: "Yep, you fucked up," and then they hurled it through Neil's window and drove off.

The only problem with this is that they threw the brick through the wrong window! Steve was mortified when I informed him of this after driving by to check out the damage for myself. I feel bad for whoever lived in the apartment in which that brick landed, but I still chuckle when I think of it. This poor soul must have been wondering what the hell they had done, and to whom. Steve had the best of intentions, though. He always, always looked out for me. A few months later, he did manage to get some satisfaction by slashing one of Neil's tires at the restaurant's annual Christmas party, which I'd brought him to as my date for the evening. Thankfully, he got the right car that time. :)

Another memory from Hong Kong

When I was three and Steve was four, we were playing one morning in front of the neighboring apartment complex, which had, as I recall, various bushes growing in front of it. We were exploring these bushes, and came to one which had what looked to me like tiny carrots growing on it. I thought it was a "carrot tree." In reality, these "carrots" were red peppers of some sort.

We each plucked a "carrot" from the bush and I tried to eat mine. I never got any further than just popping it into my mouth before I had a serious allergic reaction. I don't remember anything else until I was in the hospital emergency room, but here is what I've been told:

As soon as I put the pepper into my mouth, my esophagus began to swell shut. My throat swelled shut, and I couldn't breathe. My entire body turned bright red, with white streaks shooting down my skin. Even at just four years old, Steve could tell something was seriously wrong, so he ran home and fetched my parents, who immediately put me in the car and sped off to the hospital.

I am not sure what all was done to me at the hospital; the only thing I remember is sitting on a stainless steel table and being forced to drink a white, milky liquid that tasted sort of sweet. In any event, the allergic reaction was stopped, and I was fine. Steve had saved my life by running to get help as quickly as he did.

To this day, I cannot eat or even touch a raw pepper -- if I so much as touch one, I get hives all the way up my arm.

An early memory

I'm going to tell this story the way I remember it, which might not be entirely accurate since I was so young at the time. I may misremember some of the details, but the gist of the story is accurate, anyway.

When Steve and I were very young, my family lived in Hong Kong. I must have been about three or four years old when this happened. There was a wooded area behind the chain link fence at the back of our apartment complex. Some of the neighborhood children had built a little fort back there, and I believe my older brother Paul was among them. He would have been nine or ten at this time. Steve and I were not allowed to play back there because we were too young.

Apparently, Paul had once taken Steve back to the woods to show him the fort, and shortly after that, Steve convinced me to climb over the fence with him and go check it out. I remember being quite enchanted with the fort and feeling oh so grown up, climbing the fence and exploring the woods. However, upon our return trip over the fence, our father was waiting for us and was not pleased. He took us inside, into the laundry room, and gave us each a spanking. Then, when we would not stop crying, he shut us up in the laundry room and told us we could come out when we were quiet. Steve calmed down before I did. As I continued crying and carrying on, he finally pleaded with me to be quiet, saying, "If you don't stop crying, we are never going to get out of here!" With that, I finally settled down and we were released.

I'm not sure why this incident sticks in my mind, but I even remember what I was wearing that day -- a blue and grey dress, and grey tights.

Memories

Thinking about Steve this evening, I recalled something that happened a little less than a month before he died. It seemed insignificant at the time, but in retrospect, it haunts me.

Steve, Jacquelin, and I had signed up for a Wednesday-evening yoga class that met near the office building where I worked at the time. The class began in mid-January, and on the evening of the first class, Steve and Jacquelin picked me up at the office so that we could all go together. I had neglected to bring a change of clothes, so we first had to go to a nearby shopping center so that I could pick up some yoga-suitable clothes from Old Navy. Steve was driving. Traffic was bad, and he became a bit stressed out and irritable. As we pulled into the shopping center parking lot, Jacquelin tried to tell him which direction to go, and he snapped at her. I was taken aback, as this was the first (and only) time I had ever heard him snap at her. Steve adored Jacquelin, and I never saw them argue.

Jacquelin waited in the car while Steve and I went inside to find an outfit for me. Steve was still irritable while we shopped, and so I made an attempt to smooth things over. As we stood in the checkout line, I asked him what was going on, and he explained that he was frustrated because ever since Jacquelin had been in a nasty car accident the previous year, she no longer liked to drive, so he now did the majority of the driving. He told me that even as a passenger, she was still nervous in the car and had developed a habit of "backseat driving," which got on his nerves. He understood, of course, and was sympathetic to the fact that she was still dealing with the trauma of her accident; he was just frustrated. It was a minor issue in the grand scheme of things. Steve loved Jacquelin so very much, and would do anything for her. He admitted to me that he knew he was overreacting, and that the heavy traffic that evening had put him on edge. I remember feeling guilty because if I'd remembered to bring a change of clothes, the incident might have been avoided.

What I told him next has stuck with me. Doing my best to soothe his frustration, I gave him sort of a "don't sweat the small stuff" speech and told him that life is too short to get bent out of shape over minor trivialities. I told him that I knew how much he loved Jacquelin, and how much she loved him, and reminded him that none of us knows how much time we have, so we should do our best to make the most positive use of it. I told him to focus on all of the things he loved about her, because God forbid one of them should die tomorrow, and their last evening together had been spent bickering over something that didn't really matter.

I had no idea at the time that Steve would, in fact, die within weeks of that conversation. Life is very strange.

As for the remainder of that evening, we all felt much better after an hour of yoga, and then we went out for dinner, and all was well.

Shoulder full of pain

Dammit, my right shoulder has flared up once again. It started yesterday evening and it's gotten worse throughout the day. I walked into my boss's office for something at around 3 p.m. today and he took one look at me and told me to go home. I hate to leave work early. I always feel guilty about it, so I don't do it very often. I took him up on it this time, though.

As soon as I got home, I lit a candle for Steve. I plan to keep one burning all weekend long. The anniversary of his death is not until Sunday, but he was so sick in the few days preceding that I thought I should do something to honor him all through the weekend. These anniversaries seem to get harder, rather than easier, with time.

Here's to you, Steve. I'll miss you forever.

Insomnia

I was feeling very restless and anxious last night, and had a difficult time getting to sleep, for no apparent reason. It didn't hit me until today when I noticed the date. February 9, 2000 was the last day I spoke to my brother Steve. He called me that afternoon to tell me that he wouldn't be able to make it to our Wednesday evening yoga class because he had come down with an ear infection. I was actually a bit relieved that he was canceling on me, because I was really tired that day and didn't feel like going to yoga after work. Don't think that hasn't fucked with me ever since he died. Anyway, it was a brief conversation, since I was at work and he wasn't feeling well. I told him not to worry about it, and told him to be sure to see his doctor ASAP and get some antibiotics, and to feel better soon. Three days later, he was dead.

I can't believe it's been six years since I've heard Steve's voice. Sometimes it seems like it's been just days, and sometimes it seems like it's been forever. I miss him so very, very much.

Visionary

You Are a Visionary Soul

You are a curious person, always in a state of awareness. Connected to all things spiritual, you are very connected to your soul. You are wise and bright: able to reason and be reasonable. Occasionally, you get quite depressed and have dark feelings. You have great vision and can be very insightful. In fact, you are often profound in a way that surprises yourself. Visionary souls like you can be the best type of friend. You are intuitive, understanding, sympathetic, and a good healer. Souls you are most compatible with: Old Soul and Peacemaker Soul

What Kind of Soul Are You?

Interesting facts

Stolen shamelessly from one of my "MySpace" friends:

NordicTrack bastards!

This proves it -- the people at NordicTrack are sadists.

I received a package from the UPS man today. It contained one pedal for my bike.

That's right.

One pedal.

It also contained an invoice showing that the other pedal is still on backorder.

These people are dicks.

I wanna be a polyglot!

One resolution I forgot to include on my list is to make some serious progress in my attempt to learn Russian. I've been sort of toying around with it for the past year and a half or so, but I really would like to become fluent. I've made some good progress in the past couple of weeks. I am halfway through my Pimsleur "Speak Russian in Ten Days" CD set. I listened to Lesson Five last night, but it was so difficult that I think I'll repeat it again tonight before moving on to Lesson Six. Anyhow, I am really starting to feel like I'm going to be able to learn this language. It would be much easier if I'd just take a class at UT or something, but I kind of like my self-teaching style. It's fun, and fortunately, I have several native Russian-speaking online friends who have been very helpful in answering my questions when I get stumped.

So, at the moment, я немного говорю по-русски, но не очень хорошо. (I speak a little Russian, but not very well.)