anecdotes

Dan!

Yesterday evening, Dan stopped by on his way from Cincinnati to Ann Arbor. Very cool. I don’t know why, exactly, but Dan makes me smile. He’s just got that kind of personality, I guess, where he makes everything seem exciting and invigorating. I like Dan.

We ended up having dinner at Easystreet, where Michelle from Madhatter was our waitress. She was in rare form, too, and talked up a storm. Dan wasn’t sure what to think of her… Come to think of it, neither was I, at that point. Anyway, Dan and I spent quite a while just sitting and talking after dinner. Afterward, we took a short walk (short because it was so f*&%ing cold out), and then stopped into Grounds For Thought, but decided against getting anything after staring at the menu board for a couple of minutes. Dan really wanted to see our new house in Toledo, so I Mapquested directions to my own damn house (how pathetic is that?), and I navigated while he drove. The trip was a little anticlimactic, but at least he kind of knows where our house is now. When we got back to BG, we came home and fired up the computer again so Dan could show me the scooter he wants to buy off of eBay. We talked for a while after that, and ended up crashing at 11:30 or so, which is waaay past Dan’s bedtime. 🙂

At some point during the evening, we were discussing actions vs. intentions, and how important it is to follow through on your promises, to have integrity, especially as you get older and (supposedly, theoretically) more responsible. Of course, he was talking about someone else, not me, but that sort of follow-up is one thing I’ve always struggled with. It goes hand-in-hand with procrastination (which I’m doing right now by posting this entry). I always have the best intentions, but I end up finding different or more pleasant things to do, rather than what I know I should do.

So, today I proclaimed to Aaron over e-mail that I am going to begin cleaning and packing my desk area. Anyone who hasn’t been to my apartment, let me explain: my desk is a disaster area. I write notes on scraps of paper, or I work with genealogy documents, or I read mail and open bills, or get reference books from the bookshelf. These items I then stack neatly on my very small desk real-estate. And on the defunct scanner. And next to my mouse. And on top of my tower. And on top of my other tower. And on top of my file box. And on top of my printer. And on top of my other printer, sitting underneath the desk. And, well, it’s a bunch of crap that I don’t want to throw away, but don’t know what to do with. So, this is no small feat to clean and pack. But I have committed myself to at least beginning to tackle this monstrosity tonight, and tackle it I must.

So, off I go.

Really.

…Have I started yet?

—Oh, by the way, before I go: My high school buddy Melody got accepted to BGSU as a Vocal Performance major! Wheeee! Congratulations, Mel! Now we’re going to hang out again on a regular basis, for the first time in years and years… damn, almost ten years it’s been since we really got to spend much quality time together. This is going to be cool… for both of us.

OK, now I’m really going to clean and pack. Really.

ruminations

My Brain Hurts.

I have that weird feeling in my brain. The one that precludes either a stint of creative writing or a long intellectual conversation with Amy. I swear to God that I feel different in my brain when it feels like it wants to think. Aaron thinks I’m crazy.

Thing is, I don’t really have any pressing tales of fiction to tell, no poetry oozing from my fingers. I had contemplated busting out the Kay and strumming a few chords, but I don’t think that would do it for me. As for writing, I’m tired of writing simplistic me-disguised-as-hero stories. I’m also tired of reverting to my junior high days and writing soft porn (yes, ladeez and gents, Diana has a libido, frightening as that may be to you).

I wish I could be like Isaac Asimov (lofty, I know) and plunk out a decent short story in 20 minutes flat. Hell, I wish I could write a decent short story at all. —OK, maybe that one was pretty alright, but besides that… *shrug*

Maybe I just need to write more often, instead of maybe once every four months. Write fiction, I mean; I write in my LiveJournal (or, previously, my main blog) nearly every day. My eighth-grade English teacher once told me that, like a world-class athlete, a writer like me should practice every day.

…

Whoa. My intelligent train of thought was just completely derailed by Sir Mix-a-Lot making an appearance in my random mp3 playlist. My brain is now filled with images of a big black guy in shades dancing on a giant peach, surrounded by black chicks with much booty.

gardening

Happy Plants

There’s some flowering bushes in the backyard of our apartment here. Someone once told me it was called a Rose of Sharon, and a little online research proved her correct. Anyway, I decided when I first saw them bloom that I love those bushes, and I decided to attempt cuttings to take with me to the new house.

A couple of weeks ago (or maybe it was last week), I made probably almost two dozen cuttings of this plant, all of various thicknesses, about six to eight inches long apiece. I planted about ten of them in a big pot full of perlite—that white, styrofoamy, pebbley substance. I covered them with plastic to keep the moisture in, placed them by a not-too-drafty window, and I’ve been dutifully watering them every day.

I peeked through the plastic (wax paper, actually) today to see if anything was happening… and some of the twigs are growing buds! Little green leaf buds. How about that! They’re not dead… yet. We’ll see if they actually root in a couple of months.

Until then, I also have another bundle of cuttings lying dormant in the refrigerator, ready to be planted outside to attempt rooting a different way. One way or another, I’m going to have a Rose of Sharon. Oh, yes. It will be mine.

house

Moving Day

It has been decided. Moving Day is Sunday, March 21st. We have begun packing, we have reserved a U-Haul, and we have contacted the utility companies so we have the necessities of life when we arrive in Toledo.

It’s kinda damn cool.

So, the festivities will begin bright and early at 217 South Grove Street in Bowling Green, Ohio. We will pack the giant-size U-Haul with all our personal effects, then caravan up to 4651 Ventura Drive in Toledo, where the unloading will commence. All who assist will be welcome to partake in the traditional “Thank You For Helping Us Haul Our Shit” post-move meal, courtesy of the move-ees (that would be Aaron and myself).

For now, the challenge lies in getting everything packed and ready to go.

drumcorps

Landscaping and other randomness

I gave some more thought to landscaping the house today at work, and over lunch I drew our a couple plans for the front flower bed. I was thinking, for anyone into the whole HGTV-ish gardeny landscapey thing, that first we could hack down the overgrown bushes in the front to normal bush size. Then, I plan to mix some purple and some white flowering plants along with some white flowering ground cover, so as not to cover up the windows. I do have some ideas of flowers I’d like to use, like Lavender, Petunias, and Christmas Roses, among others that I haven’t decided on yet. The trick is going to be finding just the look I want, with flowers that like the shade, since it’s beneath an overhang on the north side of the house. I was also hoping to plant some stuff that blooms at different times, so there’ll always be some color out there… but that might be a little beyond my scope. Maybe I’ll save the rotating garden concept for when I tackle a backyard flower garden…

OK, girlie time is over. *whew*

The dude upstairs came home after I got back from my walk this evening (enjoying the weather), and proceeded to turn up his stereo. He doesn’t do it often, but it’s annoying when he does. So, I proceeded to fill my 5-CD changer with stuff—nothing too overbearing, though. Peter Gabriel’s latest, and Catherine Wheel’s last album, and 24 Gone (their only album), and Depeche Mode’s most recent album (I’m seeing a trend), and the Cure Acoustic Hits (which I think was their latest release, too. Weird). It’s turned up a little louder than I would normally keep it, but it’s by no means blasting. Just loud enough to drown out whatever music he decides to turn up every now and then.

That got me to thinking… I kind of miss college, but not really. I miss it in that pleasant nostalgic way, where the memories are fun to look back on (like radio wars, which is how my brain got from there to here). Not the kind of missing where I would want to do it again. Not like drumcorps.

Speaking of… I’ve been practicing more this week, when the upstairs dude isn’t home—more out of a need not to embarrass myself than to be considerate. 🙂 I’ve been getting better, and my relative pitch and pitch memory seems to be returning slowly but surely. The muscle memory is sort of there, but the endurance isn’t. I’ve been practing for about a half hour every day this week, doing a slow warm-up to try to rebuild my range (which wasn’t that stellar to begin with). After I warm up, I have about enough stamina and concentration to play through the warm-up tune once, the ballad twice, and to woodshed the march. Then I’m done, and I warm down with some pedal tones (reeeally low notes).

I’m also recalling why I stopped being a music major: I hate to practice. If I’m going to do this, though, I’ll have to crack down. Senior corps doesn’t coddle like Junior corps—and I can’t believe I can think of it like that now. It was so physically exhausting… but everything was planned out and served to you, from your rehearsals to your meals to your everything. Now, in senior corps, I’m going to have to practice on my own time, and hype for shows and parades on the weekends only. It’s a lot easier when it’s your entire life for three months. I hope I’ve still got what it takes. We’ll see.

And on a final note: On the front of my package of round Avery labels, the generic name on the pictured envelope is Tyler Durden.

“In the ear?! Why’d you have to hit me in the ear?”