bowtrunckle: (OMG ONOZ)
So sorry for sucking at replying to comments and anything else I've not been able to do, but I have a valid-ish excuse.  It's something terribly mundane and gross sounding at the same time: CLUSTER HEADACHES otherwise endearingly known as "suicide headaches" (which totally makes me feel better, not).  From my google/WebMD search (I know self diagnosis is not smart, but when you feel like you want to rip your brain out of your ear with a needle-nosed pliers because you're sure there's a metastasizing tumor wrapping around your optic nerve and you can't get into the doctor for a week, speculative answers are better than none) apparently these babies are super intense (think red hot poker pressed into one part of your brain over and over and over and over....) and super painful (gee, really?) and nobody knows why they happen or how they go away and can last for hours to days to week to months.  WTF HEAD!????  Whyyyyyyyy?  So besides not feeling 100%, I end up freaking out the world at large (because, you know, kids and life mean that I can't just crawl into a dark hole under my house and die) by lurching around wincing and trying not to clutch my head.  And I made myself laugh yesterday realizing that I probably look like Sam Winchester having a vision with all the staggering and wincing while trying to act like absolutely nothing is wrong because it's embarrassing to be in the middle of Target staring at baby butt cream and obviously looking like you're having psychic death visions.  Oh gah, this is so not funny that's it's stupidly hilarious in a dumb way.  So, yeah, I was sincere in my yay!Meta post and have lots of Show thoughts and want to be all talky about 9x01, but my brain has other ideas for the foreseeable future.  :(  So annoying....
bowtrunckle: (OMG ONOZ)
So apparently when I'm super busy and stressed out, my brain's way of coping is to retreat to a place of total irrelevance and expend lots of energy into thinking about things that will absolutely not result in any real life productivity or reduction in the aforementioned crazytimes and stress (and then taking precious time to write a meaningless post about it, using lots of annoying parenthetical comments).  And this is apparently how/when SPN meta and Show Thoughts hijack my life. -_-  Or it could be that I've realized Show is starting soon and I've not written anything about it for a really, really long time despite the fact I have some apparently raging, strong opinions on lots things including last season (and why I'm giving Carver the sink eye even though I don't want to care that much); the spin off, trends in the entertainment industry, and this upcoming season; the last 10 minutes of 8x23 and Carver and his 3-year "plan" (and why I'm still giving him the stink eye even though I don't want to care that much); supporting characters, why I still can't get on the Castiel and Crowley bandwagon, and the effects of fannish popularity vs. show runner vision (and why I'm still giving Carver the sink eye even though I don't want to care that much); and finally, based on all of the above, why the hell am I still watching this TV show, which obviously causes me to think way too much about non-RL things when I should be frosting birthday cupcakes and cleaning toilets.  Blarghhhh!  You guys, I'm so mentally constipated it's almost painful.  Someone send me a babysitter or 30.  And froufrou coffee.  And a 36 hour day.  And kids who don't zombie sleepwalk into my room and body slam me in bed 6 times a night.  On a cautiously brighter note: S9 is almost here (hopefully I won't be giving Carver the stink eye at the end of the premiere).  *runs away to a place with coconuty drinks and grass huts*
bowtrunckle: (*LOL*)
Today I discovered a bunch of things:

Read more... )
bowtrunckle: (Jumping on the beach)
So I realize I just posted a super dense and ranty thing about everyone’s favorite subject … politics.  And just so you all know I don’t really run around all day with an angry rain cloud over my head or leak steam from my ears while standing in line at the grocery store (and because I’m feeling super chatty lately, which probably has nothing to do with me being sick and, therefore, feeling like I get a big fat pass on all the stuff I’m supposed to be doing *side eyes rumpled laundry in the dryer*), here’s a glimpse of some of the amusing parts of my week:

Read more... )
bowtrunckle: (Plotting to take over the WORLD!)

Hello flist,

I’m not sure how many of you follow national or US politics, but good f***, the state I live in is going down the crapper.  Literally.  I’ve usually refrained from using LJ for RL life rants, but grumbling about this with A and select friends and getting disbelieving and sympathetic comments from my parents only goes so far.  I’m so angry I can’t see straight, thus the political post to vent ALL THE FRUSTRATION in a safe, harmless way.  If this isn’t your thing or if you’re a staunch tea party member stop reading now.

I've decided to make this entry public because we're all adults and I figure if I'm going to talk the talk I better walk the walk. )
bowtrunckle: (I'm online cat)

Hello virtual world!  *waves with both hands*  I don’t know if anyone is reading this journal anymore but I thought I’d jump in and babble for a while since the stars have aligned and K is actually NAPPING.  OMG.  A miracle.  *pees pants out of excitement*

Nattering about TeeVee and potties and much needed vacations )

bowtrunckle: (Andy Insanity)
Being a Mom? I quit. Seriously. That bullet train zooming between France and Britain, untouchable and buried under hundreds of feet of water and on the other side of the gigantic ocean called the Atlantic? I’m on it. It’s dark and quiet and I have my own music playing loudly and I have two free hands and I can sit on my computer and be a dork and drink coffee and wine (maybe even both at the same time just for the hell of it). But most of all I’m utterly and completely ALONE. There is no dinner to make, no laundry reproducing in the closet, no Little People or plastic potatoes waiting to ambush my feet on the way to the kitchen at 2 am, no Elmo stickers clandestinely hiding on the back of my sweater or my butt when I go to the grocery store. Nobody wants to suck on my boob or is crying because their banana broke in half. My showers don’t include a crotch-high peeping tom licking the shower door. My laptop is not playing Super Why or Elmo and Friends or The Wiggles. I can talk on my phone without it being commendeered for that talking, farting, cake-throwing cat app. My hair is styled in something other than a ponytail. I do not smell like baby barf. I’m blissfully unaware that newborn baby poop looks like mustard and cottage cheese had a wrestling match. I don’t have to make a plan of attack that would rival anything the Pentagon could draft and requires 6 trips from the car to unload 2 kids, a double stroller, a diaper bag, library books that only have cartoon characters on the covers, and groceries that always include toilet paper, laundry detergent, and macaroni and cheese. I am composed and unhurried and look calm and serene and smile at everybody. People think I’m awesome. I don’t have to wrestle anybody into their pajamas backwards at 3 pm everyday because they’ll strip naked and use their room as a toilet. There is no such thing as potty training. Or dirty diapers. Or diapers whatsoever. I can read the newspaper without it being ripped in half or chewed on or drooled on. I can sit and eat a meal without getting up once. My feet don’t stick to the dried applesauce on the floor. There is no applesauce on the floor. There is no food on the floor period. The toilet paper is on the dispenser. I’m not continually bested by baby gates, doorknob and outlet safety caps, and cabinet locks. Nobody hug-grabs my legs and sticks their head in my butt as I’m walking up or down the stairs. There are no claps or high-fives at dinner. No triumphant smiles and screeched HORRAYS while making Play-Doh pancakes. No sleeping milk-breath babies. No sneak-attack hugs or spin arounds in the living room. No singing Wheels on the Bus loudly in the car. No bubble chasing at the park. No Santa. Nobody greets me like I'm the best thing ever just happened. I’m not the best thing that ever happened. I’m totally awesome, but there’s nobody there to share it with.

Okay, I feel marginally better. Meltdown narrowly averted. I don’t think I’ll run away anymore. As you were. Carry on.

As you can see, RL is kicking my butt literally.  One day I hope to rejoin the world of fannish squee and silliness (because it's obvious I need both like whoa).  Pray for my survival.  *treads water and scans the horizon for the lifeboats*
bowtrunckle: ("Haha ... No")
There are very few things that make me get up on my soapbox and scream at the sky in frustration. It seems, though, that the news has decided it's about time for an all out scream fest (or has decided I should be enraged enough to vent at my hibernating journal). *raises fists* This past week I've run into more news articles that have my hackles up that I almost don't want to read anything else for fear that I'll run screaming into traffic.

I've mentioned my issues with girls' clothing before, so when I saw the JCPenney debacle resurface yet AGAIN, I stared incredulously at my computer screen. Really? Who are the people creating, sanctioning, promoting, and selling shirts with these kind of blatantly sexist messages on them? Not only do teenagers and tweens have to deal with being teenagers and tweens, but to have messages that tell them being smart is lame toted as fashionable and cool is wrong.  It's even more disturbing when that message emphasizes being pretty and having one's brother do their homework because one can't.  

Then there was a blatantly discriminatory bit of legislation passed in the North Carolina House of Representatives disallowing anyone to challenge the ban on gay marriage. So not only are gay marriages already illegal but the Republican-lead House is looking to make it impossible for judges to overrule the same-sex marriage ban on top of it. This is the state I now live in, and the state I'm raising my kids. How depressing. I'm now fully understanding the converstation I had with another woman whose life circumstances are very similar to mine who was desperate to move back to LA so she could raise her children "anywhere but here" (here meaning South Carolina, but close enough). The only marginally decent things associated with this is 1) voters will vote on this amendment in May and 2) the mayor of our town wrote an official and lengthy letter of non-support for this change. You better bet I already have my voter's registration card handy.

Finally, some of you may remember my long post last year about childhood vaccinations (specifically the varicella vaccine), so when Michele Bachmann began reciting a story about a women who had a daughter who suffered mental retardation as a result of the HPV vaccine on national forums, I buried my face in my hands and screamed. This propagation of misinformation, lies even, affects lives, and what's worse is that Bachmann refuses to take responsibility for her claims and instead reiterates that she was just reporting what a women told her. So now, apparently, politicians can make whatever claims they want and presumably affect policy based on anecdotal stories from random strangers. Nice job, America. 

Things like this make me wonder if the sky is going to fall in tomorrow morning because it sure seems like things almost can't get worse. 

P.S.  On a positive note, my youngest brother is now a daddy and I'm a new auntie.  Welcome to the great big world Nolan Robert.  I hope we can make it a place you can be proud to live in.  *kisses and hugs*

Also, one of these days I'm hoping to find the time/energy for a proper and overdue update with pictures.  Sorry for being MIA.
bowtrunckle: (Dean no idea smile)

Once upon a time there was a little girl who was wonderfully naive and unknowingly happy in her ignorant bliss (because how can you know you’re happy about not knowing things you don’t know yet?).  Then that little girl grew up and had her own little girl and began learning how much she really didn’t know ever.  And she began to think about conversations she’d had as a little girl with her parents and how there must be some sort of omniscient and all-knowing cosmic justice league somewhere laughing their faces off at her now. 

Little girl: If there’s Mother’s Day, then why isn’t there a Kid’s Day?
Parents in unison: Because every day is Kid’s Day.
Little girl: But I don’t get presents everyday.  No fair.


Today we tried out a new music class, which consisted of about 8 other parents/babies (babies ranged in age from 10-16.5 months).  T spent probably 35 minutes of the 40 minute session running the perimeter of the circle, dancing in the middle of the circle, visiting all the other kids, trying out other peoples’ laps, playing with the group leader's demonstration doll, and dashing to the door to play with the doorknob.  The 5 minutes she was with me was because I was holding her as we whoosed through the air to music.  I know I’m suppose to nurture her little self and help direct her natural tendancies blah blah, but, OMG, I have to get this out:

There are kids who will just sit still for 10’s of minutes at a time?!?! 

I don’t know what to do with this information.

I found myself staring in wonderment at all the other kids sitting quietly in their mom’s/grandmother’s laps.  And then wondering why the hell my kid won’t sit still.  And then starting to be alarmed while words like “ADHD” began to zip through my head.  And then I felt terrible for thinking those things instead of being proud that T is so daring and fearless and naturally curious, which led to doubting my parenting abilities, which led to fears about having an out-of-control and dysfunctional kid who will never be able to have a happy and well-adjusted life.  And all the while we’re singing “Hickory Dickory Dock” and shaking plastic egg maracas.  I felt like I was having some silent existential crisis.

Then I went home, fed T, read her stories, put her down for her nap, took one look at the dirty dishes on the kitchen counter and the food refuse from lunch splattered on the floor (and wall), went straight to the cupboard and got a container of dark chocolate peanut butter cups, walked past the dirty bathrooms and the buzzing dryer, and plugged myself into my computer where I’m now listening to a stupid Katy Perry song on repeat (WTH?!) and going slowly and quietly insane.  Jesus.

P.S. So apparently when under duress, I eat peanut butter cups and I watch TED.  Here's a honest and humorous look at the reality of parenting, taboos and all. 

bowtrunckle: (placid rocks and water)
Happy Holidays f-list!

I hope each and every one of you have a wonderful holiday season (whatever festival you celebrate) filled with family and friends and much food and cheer.  Thanks for this past year and all the interesting discussions and goofiness.  May 2010 find you happy and loved and ready to start a new year filled with possibilities.  And for those of you traveling, be safe.  *smish*

bowtrunckle: (tree hug)
Hello flist,

Just a quick post to say everything is fine, but I'm bowing out of daily LJ stuff for a while.  I'll be visiting occasionally, lurking, posting the presents from that last friends meme, and hopefully doing some drive-by commenting.  :)  My response to convo threads will likely be tardy and far and few in between, but please know I still care and want to keep up with everyone when I can.  Even though I may not comment, I'll still be visiting/reading.  *hugs to everyone*

Also, I want to thank [ profile] fannishliss for her beautifully written fic, "Why Sam Winchester Hates Death Cab for Cutie".  It's lovely and achy and full of that addictive Winchester codependent dysfunction.  Mmm, love/angst, my favorite Winchester flavor.  Thanks again, sweets.  I love it. 

"Sam knows the language. That’s kind of the problem. He’d learned the language at the knee of the boy who’d invented it. A language consisting entirely of longing, loyalty, love, and the deepest need, the most wholehearted self-sacrifice Sam could ever imagine."

bowtrunckle: (bouncing elephant)
I've been hibernating from LJ for the last month or so.  We've had a couple of friends visiting for the past week, there have been many pre/post-holiday/Thanksgiving/yay-Nature-publication parties to throw/attend, I caught a cold, and it's the end of the term with mucho marking and writing of exams and panicky/suicidal students (literally, no joke).  Also, pesky things like life maintenance (a vacuum, what's that?) suddenly needed to be done.  A has decided the best way to trick me into suddenly declaring his version of "Jihad" (I know, not really funny except when scrounging around on your hands and knees, picking up rock hard mystery packages wrapped in tinfoil from the bottom of the freezer) on the dust bunnies under the stove/oven and the scary pieces of stuff that didn't make it into the garbage and collect in the back corners of the under-the-kitchen-sink cabinet is to invite friends to stay with us.  Now this house is SO CLEAN I feel like I should take a picture of the spaces between my couch cusions and the sparkling heating duct vents and send them to my mom with a drawing of stick-man victory arms and giant speech bubble that says, "PROOF." 

I've been having crazy dreams, prompting me to patter downstairs in the dark morning and scribble incomplete sentences into my writing journal.  Yes, the writing journal that I have not picked up since writer's class.  I've been getting bizarre urges to write stories again.  Not just a one-shot or something sensible as one would do when gearing up (hello, helmet, meet my head) to get back on the proverbial horse, but giant sprawling plot-driven stories that reach ungodly proportions and teetering heights just in my head.  *headdesk*  And in acknowledgment of my oh-writing-yay-omg-wait-whatamIdoingandwhy? kick, I think I should adopt a personal motto.  These are the ones I've come up with:

I'm an underachieving overachiever who has dreams of one day being just an efficient procrastinator.
Never be reasonable when you can be insane.
Bigger is better ... and BIGGER. 
Driving yourself crazy is entertaining for everyone, especially small children and cats.

And if you're interested, the above dorkery is what occupies my head for about 10 minutes of my hour+ commute to work.  The other 50 minutes or so is spent thinking about sports.  Like the promotional campaign for the new Canadian league of bare-chested hockey ("Pass the puck and be buck!") and the health and safety of golfers using unhygienic ball washers....

bowtrunckle: (*LOL*)
Hello flist! 

I'm back from my hiatus during the hiatus.  *looks around*  It feels like forever since I've visited my own journal, I feel like I got sucked off the face of earth and into a black hole called RL. 

There really is a guy named Goodspaceguy... )
This just reinforces my belief that reality is stranger than fiction and there really is something in the water here.  Long live DEMOCRAZY!  Go USA!  *makes crazy faces and waves an Olympic flag and hugs Spaceship Earth and defends mute birds and disabled bees and rolls a joint and runs for congress* \o/
bowtrunckle: (Homer crazy TV)

My LJ has morphed into a giant SPN squee fest, so I'm going to try to balance things out a bit and return to my old LJ habits with more personal posts. 

Finally, a meme: Pick 10 people and give them the "You Make My Day" award. If you're picked, you are charged with picking 10 of your own (please don't feel the need to add me to your list if you do it).
[profile] dianne_37[personal profile] erinrua[profile] evol_joker[profile] hearseeno[personal profile] hugemind[profile] kentawolf[profile] kjpzak[profile] kuromatic[personal profile] lierina[personal profile] sadelyrate

You guys are great (as is the rest of my flist)!  *hugs* 
bowtrunckle: ("Jail or Hell?")
Lately I’ve been experiencing LJ constipation. Symptoms? Being completely devoid of anything to say about anything and feeling overwhelmed at the thought of thinking about anything else besides thinking about nothing and lurking like some guilty kleptomaniac hanging about the kid’s Christmas donation bin at Target. I blame work, work, work and the stress of shopping at Crate and Barrel at 2 pm on a Saturday (foolish, I know, but I had a gift certificate and an overwhelming urge for buttermilk waffles, which required a waffle maker that’s doesn’t predate Noah and the Arc with a peeling and probably carcinogenic non-stick layer). 
Anyway, it seems now my funk has magically lifted (maybe it was the waffles) and I can’t stop blabbing. How many comments did I leave yesterday? A lot. Diarrhea of the fingers had me all over the place, clicking on the friend button and frolicking through old communities, new-found communities, and communities I knew about vaguely, but was too much of a bonehead to join before. 
One of which is [profile] encycl_of_weird.  How how how did I forget to join this way back when [profile] kentawolf first mentioned she was putting it together? *lashes self with a wet noodle* If you haven’t already checked it out, you should. This entry was particularly amusing; the expression on Dean’s face is priceless XD! 
I don’t think I’ve giggled so much since … last week, which brings me to the next item on my blabby backlog list of inconsequential things to ramble about. :)

I hope everyone had a wonderful and safe holiday. Onto to good things 2008 holds! *hugs flist*
bowtrunckle: (Andy Insanity)

I think I just lost the lucky horseshoe that's been hitching a ride in my pocket for the last couple of months.  

Talk about crappy days; today was a gigantic brown turd.  

bowtrunckle: (Calvin phbbtt!)
I’m weak and completely lacking self control. Impulse control, hello?
I’m supposed to be doing “other” things, but guess what I’m doing instead? I’m procrastinating by busying myself with things that make my upstairs brain feel like it’s being productive in order to stave off the guilt of not doing what I’m supposed to be doing. Also, I’m synching my iPod and downloading music and silently congratulating myself on multitasking. *snortlaugh* So to stay on that vein, I thought I’d prove beyond a doubt just how much of a dork I really am (as if anyone had any doubts). 
Earlier tonight I time traveled back to 1985. Seriously.
And, no, I didn’t grab my Walkman, don a red down vest, and jump into my DeLorean with my mad scientist side kick. 
bowtrunckle: (books)
I'm back from The North!  It was great for the first week.  Then it snowed.  A lot.  For days.  After that working outside all day ceased being pleasant and enjoyable.

Here's a fun meme from [personal profile] sigune that demonstrates the degree of my illiteracy, how I can't seem to focus enough to finish a book, and the extent of my "to read" list. BTW, does it annoy anyone else that most of these titles are erroneously capitalized (or not capitalized)?  Maybe it's just me and my freakish, anal tendancies...

bowtrunckle: ("I have the dumb")

I'm in Vancouver for the weekend to do some climbing before I head up to northern B.C. for some ... bear dodging.  

bowtrunckle: (spaz run)
 I now know what if feels like to be a five-year old girl who's been given a fluffy puppy and then have it ripped ruthlessly from her arms.


Damn Best Buy.  Damn the guy who wanted the plastic bag for his one DVD of "Friends".  Damn September 11.    

*cries more*

I had it.  It was mine.  And I was ten feet from the door.  

*cries again*


bowtrunckle: (Default)

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