Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from , everything we deny, denigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems painful can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such.

Henry Miller

A little something for sustaining us all, I guess. I leave for California on Thursday, to visit family. Don't expect a lot of posting, but I'll make an effort to swing by the inbox at least once.

Guess where I am! Guess! Guess! I'm at Cafe del Mundo, home of the free wi-fi. Sweet indeed. Now that I can easily slide onto the internet from any number of ridiculously named "hot spots" (including my front lawn, since my next door neighbors got wireless a few months ago), my photos are finally web-accessible once more. Which means that my Great Internet Project (or GIP! if you're Sophie) -- putting up pictures on an online space, namely, my UO space, is forthcoming. I need to renew my FTP program (it's a demo), and then it's all ready to rock. Until then, I'll continue to use photobucket. As I mentioned eons ago, the user name is ericarothman, and the guest password is heyjude.

New toys aside, things have been pretty good lately. Although a bit of awkwardness occurred at work yesterday when Aubrey came in again. I didn't realize she was in my line until I looked up to say some sort of can I help you bit. Surprised, I didn't handle it well. It seems like she's playing a game with me or something. An awkward game.

This is the kind of day where it's in my best interest to stay the hell away from bookstores, music stores, even Fred Meyer at the risk of treating myself to a big-time splurge. Which sounds harmless worded that way, but as we all know, splurge spelled backwards is egrulps: latin for "dwindled checking account." But it's a strange mood I find myself in, this "I need new books/music/canned foods because I feel like it" mood. It's dangerous. The old money bags have been fluctuating wildly as I make money, spend it, find odd jobs, spend more, get reimbursed for some things, pay people back, pass go, collect $200, pay luxury tax, etc.

This may take the cake for best opening paragraph ever.

After more than 600 years, it was his handwriting that gave him away. A scribe - who until the weekend was known to history only as Adam the scrivener - so infuriated Geoffrey Chaucer with his carelessness that the poet threatened to curse him with an outbreak of scabs.

More here, for you anglophiles.

About ten minutes ago, I was cruising down C street, having dropped Kyle off moments before. Tuned out and listening to NPR, it took me a little bit to realize that a large Dodge ram (newer than mine, at least a '96) was pacing with me. Its occupants? Two young fellows, who could have passed for 15 easily, staring at me with what they must have hoped was suaveness. I accelerated; they accelerated. I rolled my eyes; they made kissy-lips. Stop light. The driver said, originally enough, "Nice truck, lady." I thanked him and turned.

Lady? LADY?! I'm what? Pushing 20? The big 2-0? Oy. Kids these days.

My scrappy little kitty got into a fight; she's covered in scrapes and scabs and walks with a slight limp. I'm not surprised at all -- she tends to strut around the nieghbors cats with a bit too much swagger. They, being larger and not declawed, usually come out on top.

Getting back online when it's so gorgeous out is criminal. We've had about two more or less complete weeks of awesome weather (aside from the intermittant smokings from nearby forest fires), and my outside time has been disappointing at times. Blaming work isn't entirely accurate, but BT and the subsequent BT-induced exhaustion are sleep-inspiring, not hike-Flattop-for-a-midngith-picnic-inspiring. But that's just me making excuses.

Natalie left for Europe two days ago. Her boyfriend put it best, "I'm going to miss the everloving crap out of that girl." I'm jealous of her trip, but glad that she's taking it because she deserves it.

Part I: The Sweeping Update

In no particular order: I saw Rita, back from Brooklyn. She's living the dream as the night manager of a bakery there. I missed that girl and didn't even realize it until she walked up to my register at Bear Tooth. Auntie was there too, who I also missed. The both of them need to give lessons in awesomeness. On the other hand of coincidence, I've seen a lot of people I'd rather not see at work. People whose names I've forgotten, people who I don't care about and don't have the energy to pretend, people that never gave me the time of day before but decided to become my buddy now. It's quite a schmeet. Also seen at work: Sam Beck, who is nice to talk to. His overall decency as a human being slipped my mind because I associated him with a certain bloc of West '03 males. And: Aubrey. Not sure if she's still reading or not. I interpreted her not coming to my register as a sign of indifference, which is probably how these things ought to be. Work, all of this, aside, is pretty good. Considering that I forgot Saturday's little shift switcheroo with my long-time pal Toby, and simply didn't show (prompting a call and a lot of embarrassment, guilt and tears on my part), yeah, it's been okay. I like my coworkers, for the most part. And it's an easy job. Other things: I haven't been hanging out with people as much as I'd like, and I still have yet to see a lot of people period. Like Ness. And Bob. And more. Tonight, though, I fucked up. I sort of gave Areli and Sam a big cold shoulder because I misinterpreted Kyle's wanting to go home remark. Guilt abounds.

Part II: A Clever Segue

The guilt thing is well-documented. But it's clear to me that I over-react. I felt like crying after running out of paint for my grandpa's fence, for god's sake. Call me the gulit machine. This troubles me, but I don't know what to do about it.

Part III: Realizing there's nothing to segue to

I'm kind of tired, so this may be completely incoherent. But I thought I should mention a few more assorted things. The stain I used on Papa's fence was the color of caramel. I have bruises, but I don't know where they're from. The CD in my car has Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughn, Dinah Washington and Billie Holliday. My parents are driving me mad. I need to put the oven mitt away. I'm re-reading The Odyessy because I'll be reading Ulysses next term. I have the best friends in the world.

Like A-Train at work says, "It's all milk."