Imbolc

As it is Imbolc, a holiday which I believe celebrates creativity and poetry as well, I would like to celebrate as well and share a poem - but I am far too nervous! Ah well, maybe next year I will lose my fear. In the meantime, I am going to go light my candles and write out my celebrations. Hopefully you all enjoyed this day of creativity and rebirth in whatever you turned your thoughts towards.

Day One... Of 365. Oh Dear.

Happy New Year!

Seeing as NaBloPoMo went so well - all eight of my posts - I thought I should expand my horizons. So I've joined the Blog 365 group. This is Day 1 and, hey, I'm posting! Clearly I'm off to a good start.

The holidays are finally over. I love seeing my parents and friends, but there just comes that point when you begin to comtemplate the padded walls of an institution with longing just because you'd get to be alone - and then you know it's time to go back to real life. Or get yourself committed, but that is expensive and I would have to quit my job. So, here I am back in my nice, quiet apartment.

I discovered this weekend that Margaret Atwood apparently wrote more books after The Handmaid's Tale. Why I didn't know this before, I have no excuse for, but I do now and Cat's Eye has become my obsession. There's something sweetly depressing about the book. Elaine is so vivid, so very real, and I'm not sure how my heart can sink any lower as I keep reading. Her story isn't a tragedy, it's a reality, which I think is what makes it sad - and also sweet. Like poison. You read what she sees, what she experiences through her perceptions, which gloss over the reality of what happens with the reality of what she feels at the time, then you are suddenly doused all at once with her realisations of the reality she obscured from herself. It happens over and again, as she ages and thinks that who she thought she was at a time is not who she was or is or can be, but it's a cold shock every time. I want it to be over, I want to piece all the fragments of her life together so that I know the totality of who she has become, what she has pieced together from her life, but I don't want it to end. Part of this is Elaine, but another is Atwood's language, her descriptors, the way she has of describing an object, a smell, a sound, in a way that sounds strange, but is perfectly right. There is verse in her prose.

And so I begin 2008 by describing a depressing novel. I certainly hope this is not some sort of prediction for the year. Just in case: fuzzy kittens! warm mugs of tea! soft robes and good books and smiles! There. That ought to brighten up my future just a bit.

I'm Dreaming of an Austrailian Christmas

This week gives a whole new meaning to the idea of a blue christmas - as in I don't think my toes will ever regain their normal shade in my lifetime. On the bright side, I'm finally getting used to having to leave the house early to defrost my car, so I was actually on time the past two days to work! Yes, I can learn from experience. It just takes a lot of experience.

I note with some dismay that my email inbox is sadly lacking in Christmas-card seeking holiday-ers. Come, people, come let me spread my over-enthusiastic Christmas self across the country. And give me something to do - all of the internet lines are down still in my neighborhood and I'm running out of things to clean in my house. So, if you want a bit of holiday cheer to appear in your mailbox and smother the store circulars to a gilttery death, just email your address and favorite/worst Christmas tradition/memory/etc. to asunlitrose@yahoo.com.

My finals are dead and decaying in their graves (a hidden treat for you Christmas-philes out there), so I am free, free from this awful, horrible, no-good, very-bad course selection. (A treat for those of you, um, Alexander-philes?) Next semester I'm taking a whole bunch of wacky, crazy things that have nothing to do with anything relevant, becasue I am almost done, people! One more semester and then you'll have to listen to my nervous breakdown over finding a job. Oh, good times ahead.

I was out Tuesday taking pictures of the ice storm damage at a friends request, but I don't think it worked out very well. See, I was driving through the streets and when the opportunity for the best pictures came up, I was too busy navigating through the trees to actually take any pictures. The one time I tried to do both simultaneously, I almost ran into a tree. As it was in the middle of the road I have some justification, but still if I'd had to stop and get out in the cold I would have mutinied. Against what, I'm not certain. I don't see how a mutiny against winter would take very well - unless it was accompanied by a plane ticket to the Carribbean. Ooo, better yet - Austrailia! It's summer season down there right now. I miss being warm. I did my laundry yesterday, just so I had an excuse to stay in the laundry room without people thinking I wanted to steal their shirts.

I'll check my email tomorrow at work to see who has answered my desperate invitation. You all get a one day extension - then no more! I'll have to resort to looking through the phone book and sending Christmas cards to random strangers. That won't seem creepy at all.

Let it Snow

I'm imprisoned in a library! Ah!

Normally this would be no bad thing, but I'm also trapped behind the Information desk. The situation is becoming dire.

I was supposed to work in the Reference office this morning so, without checking the university webpage, I blithely went to work. I wandered outside, chipped my way into the car, spent half-an-hour deicing it, drove around the fallen trees in the road, and walked into work.

So, apparently there was this big ice storm. And the university closed. But not the library - heavens no! But noone came in, really, because most people are trapped by tree limbs, so the seven or so people who made it here, once they got over their surprise, shanghaied me to the information desk. Now I'm stuck here until someone can come relieve me. I'm into hour 7 of this shift by now and I'm super ready to go home. Really.

The number of people who have trudged through the storm to get to the internet amazes me. Well, not as much since one of my regulars said it was this or staying home in a powerless apartment. Still. Not everyone here can be out of power, plus they're all really industrious. Who risks life and limb to come work on their research paper? I mean, I'm all for dedication, but seriously: finals are canceled for today. Take it as a sign, give this day a miss, and curl up with a hot beverage at home.

This unexpected sojourn has given me far too much internet time (What, study for my final? What language speaketh you?) and I've determined something. There are way too many cute things on the internet. Shoes and books and stationary and clothes. My pay is minscule here, internet, why must you taunt me? But I've also had time (Plenty of time, if time were money I could buy that shirt I saw at Anthropologie. Wait, or is the phrase 'time is money'? Because that wouldn't work at all - at this job, it would have to be 'time is peanuts.' Which doesn't make any sense whatsoever.), and I've decided that I'm feeling too Christmacy to let it all end with the present wrapping. Which I did during the ice storm - festive!

So, for all those who made it this far through the unending post, here's the deal: if you email me your address and favorite/most hated Christmas pasttime/tradition/habit/experience you will get in return a lovely extra-special Christmas card! For those of you already excited, my email address is asunlitrose@yahoo.com. For those of you still dubious - think of the joy of getting mail that isn't a bill or a circular for tires! That's the spirit. See above for my email. Now come, give me a reason to make merry again.

And if it starts to snow again, promise you'll come rescue me?

Spiciness Part II

Yay, I'm actually continuing this post! I sometimes have problems finishing things I start, most notably papers, so I feel this is something like the first step of the 12-step program for procrastinators. But onward to the real point of the post!

2. Pumpkin spice lattes: I actually didn't discover these amazing creations until last Christmas with one of my dearest friends, Redhead. I was visiting her in St. Louis and we were wandering through the mall, not really Christmas shopping so much as window-shopping as something to do while we talked, when we ran across a Starbucks. Normally I avoid Starbucks, if I'm going to pay $4 for coffee, Id really rather actually be able to taste coffee, but Redhead began talking about needing intravenious caffeine and got in line so I went to keep her company. So we're standing there and suddenly I see a festive chalk sign for their seasonal drinks - now I may not like their coffee, but I'm always up for sugar - so we decide to split one. Choice? Pumpkin spice. (Of course. Don't you remember the donuts?) We sit down on a bench and drink and chat; it was a very special moment, reconnecting after so many months of hit-and-miss phone calls. So I suppose Starbucks can keep on existing, even with their weak coffee. At least during the autumn.

Pumpkin Spice!

I was recently reminded of my love of all things pumpkin spice by Rebecca, so you get to hear me ramble about that for a bit. Hey, it's Day 9, people, the bottom of the barrel has just begun to be scraped. Enjoy the coherent entries while they last.

I feel the need for a list for this:

1. Pumpkin spice cake doughnuts: Krispy Kreme clearly decided that I was eating too healthy one year when I was in high school and came out with these delectable beauties for the autumn. On weekends I would actually make up errands to my parents that were located in the vicinity of the Krispy Kreme just on the off chance that they would stop by when the Hot Doughnut sign lit up. If they ever read this, there will be a sudden lightbulb atop their heads, "Oh! That explains all of the times she needed pens. And notebooks. And staples. And shoes." Then I would be killed. On the bright side, I'm only now running low on pens.

One of the saddest moments of my college years, well a sad moment at the least, has been when the Krispy Kreme in Norman shut its fragrant doors. This was the place that, when my roommate at the time, the Best Roommate Ever, was set to take her seven hour practise MCAT [Edit: Practise GRE? What? Oops, changed.] we went to at ridiculous-o'clock in the morning to convince her that she was not going to come home that night a failure, that she was indeed brilliant, and that all right just-in-case we could totally move to California and become beach bums for a living if she failed miserably. Plus we had to make sure she had enough caffeine and sugar to survive the ordeal. Seven hours?! For that long, you should make it into a med program if you survive and don't run off into the night shrieking, "Chromosomes! Neutrons! Photosynthesis! Ahhhhh!" To add insult to injury, they replaced Krispy Kreme with a BBQ place. BBQ. They really think that's going to help the sense of loss?

What other pumpkin spiciness thrills my soul? Find out tomorrow! (Why yes, a cliffhanger did just occur to me. Look, I need time to come up with another topic or you'll be subjected to monologues about the awful shade of carpet at work. And no one wants that.)