Tuesday, September 29, 2009

"Frustration" is a thing with feathers....

"People think it must be fun to be a super genius, but they don't realize how hard it is to put up with all the idiots in the world." -Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes

...I am going to go out the proverbial limb and submit that there is almost NO way my child could be more like me. Seriously. I'll illustrate this point with a story:

Monday morning, B was watching TV while I was getting ready for school (seriously, the "Mom of the Year" nomination committee is really lagging on notifying me that I'm up this year). He was watching Special Agent Oso, which comes on the Disney Channel (at least it's not f$%#^g SpongeBob). I won't give too many details (you know I hate to bore), but basically it's about a bear who is, wait for it, a special agent. He helps kids complete random tasks, such as brushing their teeth or putting puzzles together. So, today's "issue" was that this little girl wanted to pick strawberries. But she doesn't know how! Whatever will we do? Oh wait, ask the bear with the palm pilot. Well, Beckett was watching, and before Oso could come to the aid of this damsel in distress, Beckett, rather loudly, says, "Just pick and twist! I don't know how else to say it!" Then, to top of the frustration, he looked at me, looked back at the TV, and walked out of the room. Who knew he would already begin to show signs of disdain for idiots?!? Ah, world, art thou ready for Betsi Round 2: Electric Boogaloo?

That is what I get the pleasure of dealing with on a daily basis. And I couldn't be happier or more amused.

In other news, well, I suppose no news is good news. Yeah, we'll go with that.

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Poetry Nerd

And because love battles
not only in its burning agricultures

but also in the mouth of men and women,
I will finish off by taking the path away
to those who between my chest
and your fragrance
want to interpose their obscure plant

About me, nothing worse
they will tell you, my love,
than what I told you.

I lived in the prairies
before I got to know you
and I did not wait love but I was
laying in wait for and I jumped on the rose.

What more can they tell you?
I am neither good nor bad but a man,
and they will then associate the danger
of my life, which you know
and which with your passion you shared.

And good, this danger
is danger of love, of complete love
for all life,
for all lives,
and if this love brings us
the death and the prisons,
I am sure that your big eyes,
as when I kiss them,
will then close with pride,
into double pride, love,
with your pride and my pride.

But to my ears they will come before
to wear down the tour

of the sweet and hard love which binds us,
and they will say: “The one
you love,
is not a woman for you,
Why do you love her? I think
you could find one more beautiful,
more serious, more deep,
more other, you understand me, look how she’s light,
and what a head she has,
and look at how she dresses,
and etcetera and etcetera”.

And I in these lines say:
Like this I want you, love,
love, Like this I love you,
as you dress
and how your hair lifts up
and how your mouth smiles,
light as the water
of the spring upon the pure stones,
Like this I love you, beloved.

To bread I do not ask to teach me
but only not to lack during every day of life.
I don’t know anything about light, from where
it comes nor where it goes,
I only want the light to light up,
I do not ask to the night
I wait for it and it envelops me,
And so you, bread and light
And shadow are.

You came to my life
with what you were bringing,
of light and bread and shadow I expected you,
and Like this I need you,
Like this I love you,
and to those who want to hear tomorrow
that which I will not tell them, let them read it here,
and let them back off today because it is early
for these arguments.

Tomorrow we will only give them
a leaf of the tree
of our love, a leaf
which will fall on the earth
like if it had been made by our lips
like a kiss which falls
from our invincible heights
to show the fire and the tenderness
of a true love.

Pablo Neruda, And Because Love Battles

Logorrhea: excessive talkativeness

I don't really have a whole lot to update, but because I like to talk,specifically about me, my life, and my child, I figured it was about time to do some updating.

It turns out, I have NO common sense. At least not as far as my automobile is concerned. I'm surprised they don't find a way to kill themselves out of pure hatred for me and the life that I give them. I drive too fast, brake too much, and forget too often to do the little things to take care of them. This must in some way indicate why I don't have a boyfriend, but that's another blog for another day. In the last month, I have run out of gas TWICE and let my engine almost overheat to the point of blowing up. Alas, things have been taken care of and my car and I are again on good terms. For the time being.

I started reading another book ( insert insane eye-rolling from everyone I know). Still haven't finished anything from the summer and have added 5 casebooks to the load. And another book.
When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris. I read the first 30 pages before Crim Pro on Tuesday. Go. Get. It. NOW.

Since Season Five of Grey's Anatomy came out on Tuesday, Brandi, Paige, and I have been watching in eager, almost tortured, anticipation of Season Six (which starts next Thursday). Not that I didn't already know this to be true about ALL television shows, but I have developed an almost irreversibly dillusional concept of the way life and love should play out because of this show in particular. It's bad for me.

Well, I guess that's all I have for now!

Saturday, September 12, 2009

Increasingly Annoyed

So, I started following the blog of a friend and it seems like everything that gets posted annoys me in some way. I think I need a vacation.

Monday, September 7, 2009

Insert Ironic Phrase About Blind Rage Here

I have been sick all weekend. Virus, bacterial something-or-other, glued to the sofa, pounding headache, burning up then freezing, body ache, sleeping all day sick. ALL. WEEKEND. This just means I have had a lot of time to watch television. Too much time (as if there is such a thing). Today, I turned on TLC and Toddlers and Tiaras was on. And seeing as how this show drove me into a rageful, disgusted frenzy, this blog is sure to be disjointed, choppy, and hard to understand.

In what world is it okay for a 4 year old, A FOUR YEAR OLD, to go to the spa for 5 hours?!?! FIVE HOURS! Emily, who is described by her father as a "princess" (and by me as"spoiled brat"), was taken to the spa for a facial, manicure, pedicure, haircut, and a massage. You know, to destress the FOUR YEAR OLD. Maybe her life wouldn't be so stressful if her parents didn't dress her up like a prostitute and force her to parade around on stage for other people to judge. These people caked on make-up and sprayed enough Aqua Net on this poor child to double the size of the hole in the O-Zone layer. Then, her father made the statement, "We're not superficial. It's really not about the looks to us." UGH. And then, when the mother and Emily were running late, the mother reassured Emily that, "they will wait for us." That's right, go ahead and teach your child the valueable life lesson that the whole world is here to wait for you. And she wins. SHE FREAKING WINS.

Moving on. Rylen (I guess that's how she spells it. She'll probably make it easier for herself one day and just spell it C-A-N-D-Y at the club in 15 years). Rylen's mother allowed her to throw a temper tauntrum and roll herself up in the floor rug. And she just let her get away with being a brat. She, too, claims that it's not about "beauty." She didn't want to get too glitzy, so she just teased the hell out of her hair and only put on a little make-up. On a FOUR YEAR OLD. This child got 3rd runner-up. She was, in all honesty, a very pretty little girl. But, come on. Leave the poor child alone.

Ok, I'm going to stop because I could go on forever. I think we all know how I feel about it now anyway.

Update: Just heard the word "centerfold" used to describe an award given to a 7 year old. Just became physically ill.
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