i have a serious problem with him. i have been watching jeopardy as of late and am sometimes confronted with the soulless mofo in the last moments of 'wheel', while he is mindlessly bantering with vanna for the camera. empty, vacant, he makes me ill.

perhaps i write this only because soulfulness has been on my mind as of late. i (rather vainly) used to imagine i was an 'old soul' (how you truly know this is beyond me) but now i think of how little i truly know about life and how my feelings, experiences, and intuitions are really no more special or amazing than anyone else's. (well, ok, just a tad more special hahah). i think about how my poor memory has contributed to a sort of 9 lives phenomenon with me, and how even if i've "been there, done that" it is like a plastic egg in my mind: only an outside influence can reveal the surprise inside. all these things and more now cause me to believe that in fact my soul is very young, so hurray for hasenfefer, here we go! i think it helps to make me an excellent mama.

back to work isn't quite the blues i thought it would be. the first week was hard, big time. this week, magically i am cured of the initial heartsickness. it helps that my company is WONderful. now i feel an opposite worry creeping in, that i just don't have the patience with little cute that i did when i was here with him ALL DAY. sigh. always something to fuss over with me.

leg.

1. a most fashionable blue-magenta boa that may just start a haute couture leg-severing trend, darling...

2. a highly pliable golf club and/or croquet mallet; once bent it will maintain an excellent stiffness, providing both distance and accuracy

3. in a bind, use as a plank to get from roof to roof

4. anytime art exhibit--simply set up, then extrapolate

5. great body pillow for summer: always cool!

6. javelin substitute

7. foil for the ever present danger of the "urban lynx": throw, then run.

1. through paul while a visitor in his home

2. a few friends know. no family, no work people. real name, not real photo.

3. a handful. 10 or 14.

4. it hasn't really, unless i am at an e-party and i connect the face with the journal. though that is only once in a while.

5. n/a

6. 3

7. yes

(equip)
1.none
2.no

(lifestyle)
1. if i know the person and they reference something in their journal, i am more likely to check it out or keep it in mind. i go through spurts with e-strip, sometimes i'll post then check a bunch and nose around a lot, then i'll be absent for weeks. when i am on it, it's usually for about 15 minutes, 30 at most.

1a- when i do go on, i check out 4 or so.

2. it definitely makes me think everyone knows everyone, or if you don't it's because you're out of the loop, or you don't want or need to meet people.

3. no

4. no

5. no

6. a little. it's just good to write, since i don't do it that often anymore. and i can be silly, or not. whatever.

7. yes, kind of a 'mom's blog' thing that was on typepad but is being moved. does not affect e-strip or vice versa.

8. no, don't work

9. n/a--tho i don't post too often

this tag is all over buffalo. i first noticed it on a building across from the gold dome, on a wall above the old harold's shoes. that particular tag has what seem to be codes in simple black line letters in front and back of the "atak hert" (with 'hert' in bubble letters below and to the side) and of course, leads one to immediately ask "hm, what does *that* mean?" (not for me to know, i realize) it is also on an abandoned bowling center near amherst and main and in countless doorways. i have only ever noticed it on dead buildings, which may or may not be a statement in itself.

the tag in the picture is on shelled out projects off of fillmore ave. it towers over the 33 and is very impressive and a little scary. atak/hert what, or whom? is it "just" a name? i, as a mere 'noticer', am not going to suppose that i ought to know, theorize as to the whats and whys, or get all paranoid about it,, but i am definitely intrigued. i did a bit of (very mild) investigating....i liked the following quote.

this is gleaned from this website , a thesis by Bradley J. Bartolomeo of Union College:

Like reading poetry once written in another language, graffiti loses something in the translation when it tries to win the affection of the haves. It is not to be taken more lightly than weaponry, because that is what it is. Graffiti is our war. Graffiti is not supposed to be there. that's why it works. (The Vapors 2000:4)

sex! sex sex sex, sex sex ss sex sex

as the number one suggestion to bring on the labor. runners up:

2. sex and wine (half a glass, of course)
3. paul should 'stimulate' (ooh, so technical) my nipples during an entire football game. then we should pretend i'm the center and he's the qb and "hut" the baby out. (this one wins for laughability)
4. watch or listen to particularly moving movies or music
5. walk laps around my house, rigorously clean
6. whack it (still sex? i guess so....)

of all of these, only #4 sounds appealing. i am supremely lethargic, in limbo, tired and worn out with pregnancy. any active action seems insurmountably difficult. i regard sex as an act of pure lunacy at this point, something that might kill me.

having the baby also seems abstract now. about two weeks ago was the 'peak of readiness,' a high point of excitement and preparedness and emotional and mental stability. now doubt has shadowed things a lot. i worry all is not well. i fear the unnaturalness of induction, but prefer it infinitely to the dreaded "C". the baby squirms and kicks with zest, i think it is struggling for the way out, become convinced that somehow my body isn't capable of progressing into labor. i feel let down, cheated, having done all the right things till now then having to get frickin induced??? not fair. nothing i can do. any little thing is a 'sign,' yet i've been teased by twinges so often that i know it's not 'the real thing' every time. and so it seems this baby will never come. that we're 'not really' going to be parents. that december 10th, then 20th, then christmas will come around, and i'll still be this pregnant, still waiting. and of course having those thoughts is a kind of big scare unto itself--no self-fulfilling prophecies, please. no macabre foreshadowing.

i would love it so if there was some root i could chew to make it happen, some rare, not necessarily delicious fruit i could tear apart, and then it would happen. sarsparilla, maybe?