The new moon is upon us…, but what will I do?
The new moon is upon us…, but what will I do?
When you’ve just got to reach that step goal, but it’s almost bedtime and way too hot and buggy outside…
P.S. In case you can’t tell, that was pacing the house for half an hour.
I just watched “The Matrix” for the first time in over ten years.
Gosh, that movie is good.
Especially concepts discussed in it… so, so good, I kind of want to turn it right back on, but take notes this time.
Go watch it, even if you’ve already seen it.
P.S. I had to pace during the first part, because I wanted to reach my step commitment for the day, but I hadn’t yet reached it. I totally got to chill excitedly on the sofa for most of the movie, once I’d reached my goal, though.
Here, I will paraphrase a piece of a conversation I had with my mother this evening.
Mom: You are living in a culture that doesn’t see that as normal.
Hannah: And I am simply one of the frontrunners of the movement, actively working to have it be something that is seen as normal.
It was a conversation we had while dancing at the food truck event in a neighborhood. It was casual and fun, and we both chuckled during the conversation. And we both meant what we said. It felt good to state definitely that I am part of a movement. It sounds silly to me now, but the fact that it sounds silly is kind of exactly why I am part of it. And it is not only a powerful statement, but it is fun.
Pictures to come in the future, and hopefully in the very near future. 🙂
Nope, no idea. I really haven’t any idea. I mean, sure, I have loads of ideas all day long. But I open up the page – that dreadful, white, blank page – and it all just seems to melt away. It almost feels as though none of it ever existed in the first place. It isn’t that I have a block. It is that I have an empty slate. And being able to create anything for this nothing is not only amazing, but mind-blowing. I always look for direction, instruction, guidance…, and yet, does that direction, instruction, guidance, even if ever so slightly, take away from the me of it? Does that not remove the me from the creation, and put at least a part of the result under the specifications of another, when it could have been all generated from me? It could have been purely me, but I wanted outside direction. But I want me and I want the blank slate… sort of. I want the slate however it may be, but perhaps I would like to paint it first, and then begin to work (although the painting would be beginning already), because blank and solid and white is just not me. Yes, yes… perhaps I just need to paint, and then create further and further from that initial coat.
I occasionally worry about the possibility of my having kids of my own. And by kids, of course, I mean children, not goats. My brother has goats already. They’re really cute.
Anyway, the main genuine worry that I have regarding my having children of my own, is the concern of what I might name them. I thought my cousin had it crazy enough, when she said that she would like to have a girl, and to name her Jacques, pronounced “Jake”. But I’m over here in the shower tonight, contemplating having twins, a boy and a girl, and naming (and calling) them Penny Lane and Abbey Road (respectively, I think, but I’m not set on that). And then I get all concerned, because I worry that I might actually do that, if I have children of my own to name. Either that, or I’ll not actually give them set names until they’re six months old or something. And, even then, I might still give them absurd names. I could actually see myself doing this to my dear children. Though, perhaps I would give them somewhat ‘standard’ names, so to speak, and then just call them these absurd names I have. That way, I could use multiple absurd names on each child. Having children is absurd enough as it is – at least give me a little bit of fun of my own to have, you know? (And, yes, I do know that I am somewhat totally crazy here.) 🙂
If it didn’t really matter, what sorts of absurd names would you give your child/children? Think about it.
Opera is ridiculous. One night, I have a constant close-up of an incredibly-endowed woman’s exposed nipples, and another is packed with the gag-inducing stupidity and lovey-dovey total BS drama whose only competitor is telemundo’s telenovelas. Actually, they are almost all packed with that last bit. Most nights, eye rolls abound, and we occasionally have to restrain intense laughter at the nonsense of people’s declarations of what their love must mean and be able to do, or else what their rage and fury must now cause. Tonight was one of those nights.
And yet, it is such spectacular music, it is what I long to hear most evenings, as I am settling in at home for the evening. I feel as though most of the dramatic operas are best when the words are not understood. Otherwise, they are all just idiots, and you really don’t seem to mind at their dying (slash you kind of want them to hurry up and just die already).
Let us be clear here: I love opera. It is just painfully dramatic and ridiculous at times, that I just want to punch people and hit a fast-forward button, so that the stupidity will end already. I get enough of that in real life. Let’s not dwell on it so dumbly in our entertainment.