It’s always there, but sits away in the corner.
It sometimes comes out, but for the most part stays in its place.
When it comes out of the shadow though, it isn’t much fun.
I don’t particularly like it, in fact I know I don’t, but what can I do.
I’m not sure how it happens, but it does.
It comes around at the most opportune times, but I don’t ask for it.
I try to clear my mind and move on, but it doesn’t help.
Once it sets in, it’s there, and it stays for a while.
It has a blinding sound, so loud you can hear it over everything else.
It drowns out almost all other sound; it’s deafening.
It’s a strange sound; a sound that I cannot hear.
I know it’s there though, because I feel.
Maybe it’s the sound of feelings.
_
Friday, May 28, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Those shoes
Those shoes. They sit on the floor, over in the corner, almost out of the way next to the chair. But they’re not; they certainly are in the way.
I look at them each day as I pass between rooms. I look at them, see them sitting there, waiting.
You can tell that they’re begging to be used, begging to be worn. The shoes want to move, they want to get up and go, they want to dance again.
It’s been 14 years since she left. A very long 14 years. Her passing was a shock to the entire community, and most of all a shock to us.
She wore those shoes often. In fact, they were her favorite shoes. I remember the day she brought them home, she was so happy to have finally found them on sale.
After a while it made sense to rearrange the house: clean, move things, pack some of her items away. Those shoes were among her favorites so they stayed out, much like the pictures that hang on the wall – left out as memories, as reminders of what once was, of the way things used to be. Of a life, and of happy times.
Two months ago I packed the shoes away in the attic; I thought it was time. Not that they were a bother, I just thought it was time. I thought I would never see them again.
Three days ago the shoes appeared on the floor: sitting patiently, waiting as they had done for 14 years.
Each day as I pass between rooms, I look at them, see them sitting there, waiting.
And I wonder how they returned.
*Note: Inspired by Magpie Tales, picture:
_
I look at them each day as I pass between rooms. I look at them, see them sitting there, waiting.
You can tell that they’re begging to be used, begging to be worn. The shoes want to move, they want to get up and go, they want to dance again.
It’s been 14 years since she left. A very long 14 years. Her passing was a shock to the entire community, and most of all a shock to us.
She wore those shoes often. In fact, they were her favorite shoes. I remember the day she brought them home, she was so happy to have finally found them on sale.
After a while it made sense to rearrange the house: clean, move things, pack some of her items away. Those shoes were among her favorites so they stayed out, much like the pictures that hang on the wall – left out as memories, as reminders of what once was, of the way things used to be. Of a life, and of happy times.
Two months ago I packed the shoes away in the attic; I thought it was time. Not that they were a bother, I just thought it was time. I thought I would never see them again.
Three days ago the shoes appeared on the floor: sitting patiently, waiting as they had done for 14 years.
Each day as I pass between rooms, I look at them, see them sitting there, waiting.
And I wonder how they returned.
*Note: Inspired by Magpie Tales, picture:
_
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
A wrinkle…
in time… Is something of an abstract thought.
It helps explain some things, but
it raises more questions which bring us deeper thoughts.
in space… May help us travel through time.
Although, it may be very dangerous, risking our lives,
and should it move, we may not return to our time.
in the sheets… we rarely do not care,
but in the shirt or tie or other clothes,
we iron, with great care.
may not be a thing we yearn to see,
A wrinkle, however may be
exactly what we expect to see.
you see…
can be perceived to be
as good or as bad as it can be.
It matters not what others seem to mind.
It matters most,
the position of our own mind.
…So to me, it’s clear to see,
that a wrinkle can be,
whatever it is we want it to be.
*Note: Inspired by Theme Thursday, topic: Wrinkle
_
It helps explain some things, but
it raises more questions which bring us deeper thoughts.
in space… May help us travel through time.
Although, it may be very dangerous, risking our lives,
and should it move, we may not return to our time.
in the sheets… we rarely do not care,
but in the shirt or tie or other clothes,
we iron, with great care.
may not be a thing we yearn to see,
A wrinkle, however may be
exactly what we expect to see.
you see…
can be perceived to be
as good or as bad as it can be.
It matters not what others seem to mind.
It matters most,
the position of our own mind.
…So to me, it’s clear to see,
that a wrinkle can be,
whatever it is we want it to be.
*Note: Inspired by Theme Thursday, topic: Wrinkle
_
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Little Mosquito
Little mosquito,
Where is it you have flown from?
Your name sounds Spanish
This haiku came from a book that Ms. Amy gave to me yesterday as a gift. Oddly enough, the book is entitled Zombie Haiku by Ryan Mecum. Ms. Amy is also the one who gave me the zombie mints… the brain flavored ones… Why this haiku is in a book such as this, I’m not sure, but I thoroughly enjoy it.
This haiku brings up two questions in my mind: 1) can blood-sucking insects become zombies? And 2) are mosquitoes from Spain?
To the first: no clue, but my instinct suggests that they can’t. However, it should be noted that if insects such as mosquitoes can carry diseases and transmit said diseases from one person to another, then it stands to reason that a mosquito can at least carry the zombie disease and spread it to others. See here for a quick read from the Zombie Research Society on the topic. Basically it says that while mosquitoes would not be attracted to zombies (because they’re dead, and thus would not feed on them), it may be possible for a mosquito to feed on a person who has recently contracted the zombie disease and is still in the incubation stage, prior to becoming a zombie.
To the second: yes, mosquitoes are from Spain. Well, maybe they’re not from Spain, but their name has a Spanish origin (via Mosquito.org):
“The Spanish called the mosquitoes "musketas," and the native Hispanic Americans called them "zancudos." "Mosquito" is a Spanish or Portuguese word meaning "little fly" while "zancudos," a Spanish word, means "long-legged." The use of the word "mosquito" is apparently of North American origin and dates back to about 1583.”
Also to note: there are mosquito ringtones and some sort of device to prevent loitering that goes by the name “The Mosquito”.
Who knew such a tiny insect had this much influence… minus its malaria implications of course.
_
Where is it you have flown from?
Your name sounds Spanish
This haiku came from a book that Ms. Amy gave to me yesterday as a gift. Oddly enough, the book is entitled Zombie Haiku by Ryan Mecum. Ms. Amy is also the one who gave me the zombie mints… the brain flavored ones… Why this haiku is in a book such as this, I’m not sure, but I thoroughly enjoy it.
This haiku brings up two questions in my mind: 1) can blood-sucking insects become zombies? And 2) are mosquitoes from Spain?
To the first: no clue, but my instinct suggests that they can’t. However, it should be noted that if insects such as mosquitoes can carry diseases and transmit said diseases from one person to another, then it stands to reason that a mosquito can at least carry the zombie disease and spread it to others. See here for a quick read from the Zombie Research Society on the topic. Basically it says that while mosquitoes would not be attracted to zombies (because they’re dead, and thus would not feed on them), it may be possible for a mosquito to feed on a person who has recently contracted the zombie disease and is still in the incubation stage, prior to becoming a zombie.
To the second: yes, mosquitoes are from Spain. Well, maybe they’re not from Spain, but their name has a Spanish origin (via Mosquito.org):
“The Spanish called the mosquitoes "musketas," and the native Hispanic Americans called them "zancudos." "Mosquito" is a Spanish or Portuguese word meaning "little fly" while "zancudos," a Spanish word, means "long-legged." The use of the word "mosquito" is apparently of North American origin and dates back to about 1583.”
Who knew such a tiny insect had this much influence… minus its malaria implications of course.
_
Monday, May 24, 2010
FaceMan. …What?
I ended up at Pete’s Monkey Bar (formerly Dulcinea’s 100th Monkey) Saturday night for a few drinks and some live music. I love going to Pete’s, it’s a very comfortable place and I feel at home there – good people, good atmosphere, and good music. I was a little hesitant to go Saturday because Pete’s doesn’t usually post who is playing, and I like to do my research on the bands ahead of time to make sure I’m going to enjoy them. I ended up going anyway, and wow, what an experience.
FaceMan was playing that night. Who (or what) is Faceman? FaceMan is a band with a very interesting gimmick: the singer/lead guy comes walking through the front door after the music has started wearing a silver/grey suit with a contraption on his shoulders which fashions a box around his head that has vents on all sides and spinning lights on top (which he turns on and off throughout the show). Needless to say, I was surprised by what I saw, and honestly, I was a little apprehensive of what was going to follow.
And so the show went on, silver-box-with-spinning-lights-over-some-guy’s-head and all. They also had a special guest, a harmonica player called Medicine who added serious depth to the music – who should always play with Faceman from here on out. Oh, and there were two projector screens near the ceiling, and a silver robot looking thing centered in front (something like you would find on Mystery Science Theater 3000)… with a light that kept changing colors (what I thought to be an eye), and a mouth with fiery-orange teeth… fun right? It was.
You see, the projectors played snippets of video along with the music (think Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon and the Wizard of Oz, but with different videos). And although the music and video weren’t in perfect synchronization, it was still pretty damn cool. Every now and then the video would become two eyes, and that’s when you could see it: two eyes, a nose and a mouth of a giant something (see below).
As the music went on and the videos kept changing, it began to make sense… this wasn’t about the band members; Faceman is about the music, the show, and the experience.
FaceMan, I have to hand it to you – you did a great job. Your music was surprisingly good and your gimmick worked very well with the crowd. I definitely look forward to seeing you again.
And Pete – thanks again for another great night. You guys are awesome.
Pete's Monkey Bar: http://www.petesmonkeybar.com/
Pete's on Facebook: www.facebook.com/petesmonkeybar
_
Friday, May 21, 2010
Cats are unique in a strange way, not a normal way.
The subject of cats continue to come up and I don’t know that it’s something new or if it’s always been around and I’ve just never noticed it… But the chatter around the topic of cats, and not in a cute-furry-fluffy way, seems to be gaining ground.
A while back I posted “It’s natural to be wary of a cat… of any kind” and today I see these two posts:
“so it wouldn't be all that different”
and
“Why Cats Are Not Employed As Doctors”
On top of these two posts, I’ve heard conversations and read other stories about cats in non-“I love my pet” ways.
I think the trend is starting to catch on that cats aren’t usual creatures; they’re unique in a strange way, not a normal way.
Beware
***UPDATE*** And also, sucking on wool IS NOT NORMAL!
_
A while back I posted “It’s natural to be wary of a cat… of any kind” and today I see these two posts:
“so it wouldn't be all that different”
and
“Why Cats Are Not Employed As Doctors”
On top of these two posts, I’ve heard conversations and read other stories about cats in non-“I love my pet” ways.
I think the trend is starting to catch on that cats aren’t usual creatures; they’re unique in a strange way, not a normal way.
Beware
***UPDATE*** And also, sucking on wool IS NOT NORMAL!
_
Thursday, May 20, 2010
To combobulate or discombobulate, that is the question.
I was on a conference call today and the gentleman on the other end made a comment about being discombobulated. I’ve heard this word plenty of times in my life and I’m quite familiar with it, in fact, I use it myself at times. But for some reason at the exact moment he said “discombobulated” I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before – where’s combobulate?!?!
Of course the first thing I had to do as soon as I got back to my desk was to do some quick research on discombobulate. It turns out that we don’t say combobulate because there is no combobulate! Sure, we have the anti (discombobulate), but we have no posi (combobulate). It only stands to reason that there should be a posi, especially if there’s and anti!
On with my research: I found this on Dictionary.com (I prefer it in this instance over Merriam-Webster.com) and this from WordPress (turns out that I’m not the only one who has concerns over this word).
Dictionary.com says that discombobulate is “1825–35, Americanism; fanciful alter. of discompose or discomfort.” Meaning that discombobulate doesn’t have a Latin origin? Which means it doesn’t have a root word? No base to build off of to develop an anti?
Interesting.
So… should we start a movement by regularly using combobulate in our daily lives? I’m on board if you are.
_
Of course the first thing I had to do as soon as I got back to my desk was to do some quick research on discombobulate. It turns out that we don’t say combobulate because there is no combobulate! Sure, we have the anti (discombobulate), but we have no posi (combobulate). It only stands to reason that there should be a posi, especially if there’s and anti!
On with my research: I found this on Dictionary.com (I prefer it in this instance over Merriam-Webster.com) and this from WordPress (turns out that I’m not the only one who has concerns over this word).
Dictionary.com says that discombobulate is “1825–35, Americanism; fanciful alter. of discompose or discomfort.” Meaning that discombobulate doesn’t have a Latin origin? Which means it doesn’t have a root word? No base to build off of to develop an anti?
Interesting.
So… should we start a movement by regularly using combobulate in our daily lives? I’m on board if you are.
_
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