Blog Every Day August: 8/31

Fifty four pages of Government reading still call my name, yet I have spent my evening writing letters and sneering at it and my other homework.

In my last English class the girl I was seated next to informed me she had not done the reading and instead guessed at the quiz questions, which apparently worked out well for her. In Government, again, several humans behind me discussed at length their tactics for doing as little as possible. Call me insane or naive (both?), but I really like schoolwork. Which is not to say that I do not expect to freak out in the near future over the state of my academics. I have no idea what I am doing.

This August has been tumultuous, to say the least. I almost want to apologize, as it has not been what I might have wished in terms of writing. Several of my buddies in this venture are facing the same problem; words are not easily found these days and oftentimes a painful ordeal. In some ways, I worry, I have failed you or wasted your time. But for what it is, this affair has helped me. Words have shed some of their fright. 

Sticking it out counts for something.

My fondest regards to all of you. I will be back.

Blog Every Day August: 8/30

I am currently putting off doing sixty pages of Government reading. It is not technically due until Friday, but I am crazy and take skeins of notes, necessitating a ridiculous amount of time. Have I mentioned that I am crazy? I suppose this somewhat of a regular occurence.

News flash: the off brand Cheez Its I am currently consuming are CHOLESTEROL FREE. Oh so reassuring, that. Government, while occasionally intriguing, is making me want to stab things. Eeyore has been brought in for moral support.

College.




Days until college: -9

Blog Every Day August: 8/29

I am exhausted. Is this a theme? Maybe it is implied at this point. Part of me wonders why in heaven's name you lot stick around day after day like this; this month has been, in my lowly opinion, a disaster. The only conclusion I am able to draw is that you a) love me and b) are at least slightly crazy... for which I thank you. Crazy is preferable, in my opinion, and the love here definitely goes both ways despite my currently lacking relationship with communication.

I would like to thank Manar ever so for filling in for me yesterday. Her words are a shining beacon to me always. Have I mentioned I am a sap? That. But really, Manar is brilliant. As are all of you. Dave, I am bewildered as to why you've put up for my ramblings (or lack thereof) for a month, but your readership and comments have been appreciated. And Lydia! You're amazing. I mention hardcore commenters here, but my appreciation extends to all of you.

My humans shall be visiting me this weekend; that my immediate family is willing to drive seven hours at (almost) the drop of a hat is itself enough to make me weepy. Needless to say, I am excited.

Partner In Crazy Laurel forced (see: nudged) me to visit the cafeteria and acquire caffeine, as I was nearly falling asleep in my chair. It is apparent that the cafeteria is the place to be at ten on a Monday night. The more you know, eh? My head is now in a special, special caffeine + tired place.

Loveyoubye.


Days until college: -8

Blog Every Day August: 8/28

Hello Readers of Katherine’s Blog! This is Manar. Unfortunately, “the homework has eaten [Katherine’s] brain," and so she is unavailable for blogging at the moment. However, I feel partially responsible for this occurrence, as she was kept from doing said homework earlier in the weekend due to my presence in her dormitory.*

If you are reading this blog, I must assume that you are a quality person, so I am honored to grace your eyes with my words. I apologize for how lackluster they must seem in comparison to the words that you normally consume on this page.

I would like to take this opportunity to assure you that Katherine is doing just fine. I realize that having one’s brain eaten does not seem like the kind of thing that leaves one “just fine,” but Katherine has brains to spare, so she can handle it. True, college is frightening and intimidating and new—and she may be having issues adjusting to the drastic change—but she has a pretty boss roommate (that would be Laurel, the #PartnerInCrazy) to guide her through the twists, and I was able to personally verify this weekend that she is just as wonderful and sane as ever. (Of course, “sane as ever” for Katherine is still markedly insane, but in the best of ways.) Besides, we all know that our beloved Katherine is capable of handling anything. She’s pretty awesome that way.

Now that your fears are allayed (because I am obviously a trustworthy source and am totally not actually blogging in her place because I kidnapped her and constructed a robot to take her place), we can move on to other more important matters. Such as ice cream. Ice cream is of the utmost importance, and should be a staple in the lives of all. Katherine and I both had ice cream for brunch today (well, I mean, we ate not-dessert too), and I think everyone can agree that we are better for it. I would like to encourage all of you to partake in the consumption of ice cream yourselves, for the good of all humanity.

Well, though I am but a lowly high school student (an entire year younger than the Mighty Katherine), I also have homework to feed my brains to tonight. I hope that I was an acceptable stand-in! Enjoy tomorrow’s return to your regularly scheduled programming. ☺

*Um. This may or may not have also resulted in yesterday’s post being late, and I may or may not fear the wrath of vengeful blog readers if I cause the delay of yet another blog. True, I am no Katherine, but I’m better than nothing, right? Right?

Blog Every Day August: 8/27

Let it be noted in history that I am currently distracted by the gorgeous Laurel and Manar, my alphabuddies in crime, and thus blatantly forgot to update this until this late hour. Manar is sleeping over. We watched Winnie the Pooh with our stuffed animal friends (Pooh, Eeyore and Tigger). Our girl talk has reached new and impressive heights this evening; I adore them.


Days until college: -6

Blog Every Day August: 8/26

There are fifteen minutes left in the day and I am only now attempting a post. I wish I could be/feel quality. I feel that I've let you down. To recap my day for you accurately would necessitate a lot of unnecessary whinging and it is, as ever, difficult for me to rationalize a blow-by-blow depiction when I am lost to put it in any sort of entertaining fashion.

I don't feel well. Stress sets off stomach pains. As silly as it may seem, I hate taking my medicine. More often than not I convince myself of the idea that I am just hungry and ignore it. The issue seems trivial, really, but it is a slight extra annoyance. The moral of this story is that no, it doesn't just go away, and medicine is useful or some expletive.

Nothing devoured me whole today, which I find to be preferable to the alternative. My powers of concentration have been sapped for so long that I worry as to whether I will be able to accomplish things ever again. Prediction: I will. (Maybe.) My fondness for academia really ought to kick back in at any moment and fix everything, right? Right?

The wall directly in front of me features pictures of and drawings by my humans. It makes me happy.

Photographs picture (left to right) my maternal
grandmother as a college student, my mother
as a young woman, and my mother, sister and
I on my seventh birthday.

Days until college: -5

Blog Every Day August: 8/25

It's after nine on a Thursday night and I sit on a bench outside the library. It's still warm, still somewhere in the 90s Fahrenheit, but night brings a soft comfort to the heat. Across an expanse of sidewalk a fountain sprays water up, up, up. People are still out and about; a bicyclist passes by, then another.  Some twenty yards away a boy pushes his comrade on a hanging bench.

Shadows are cast in all the right places as people walk, occasional voices muffled against the blanket of dark. The fountain is a rush on which I can focus, almost worth the sweat.

I like these benign trappings of night, this handful of minutes in which I can quietly watch and breathe.

I never imagined this far. College was the final point on the map, the destination as far as I could reasonably see. Now that I am here I find myself floundering, overwhelmed and broken all at the same time. Emotions sing as they rocket up and plummet at an unpredictable, incomprehensible pace.

I have yet to grasp this new reality.

Days until college: -4

Blog Every Day August: 8/24

Today is officially my nerd Christmas; Pottermore sorted me into Ravenclaw and my wand core is Unicorn. I reunited with a friend from student orientation (following a near panic attack during an intense social function, we happened across one another as we both hid in the bathroom) this evening and ate pizza. Partner In Crazy continues to be ridiculously cute. I miss my humans. Classes start tomorrow.

Here is a kitten.

Source.

Days until college: -3

Blog Every Day August: 8/23

The fact that classes don't start until Thursday is starting (continuing) to throw me for a loop. You're all going to laugh at me, but I have never felt adequate academically. I may know in some dreary corner of my soul that I am the stuff of legends (ever so likely), but I don't feel that I am intelligent. In both social (understandable) and scholastic (I am ridiculous) realms I constantly feel that I am hanging on by only the loosest of threads.

The moral of this story being that, as terrified as I am, I would like classes to start so I can begin to do things rather than stew over how horrific I am at life and its many apricots*.

Today I wore the fabled Pizza John t-shirt out and about (for the first time ever, goodness me) and happened across two Nerdfighters. The odds of this astound me; it was quite exciting. "I know this is creepy, but I like your shirt" is somewhat of a hilarious statement when one is wearing such classy apparel, but I shall hold these words dear to me always. 


Days until college: -2


* Yes. Apricots.

Blog Every Day August: 8/22

Maybe this is all a dream. That's how it works, right? Nightmare, pleasant dream, what-have-you - an abrupt finish line must await me at the most inopportune of moments. I am halfway in denial and split as to whether I really want to be here; I am as terrified as I am thrilled.

Classes start on Thursday. My residence hall box receptacle is adorable and comforting. Partner In Crazy and I attended the first meeting of our university's Harry Potter Alliance this afternoon, which went better than expected. Harry Potter folk or no, I was all sorts of nervous. Afterwards we ventured to obtain food in the land of the mighty cafeteria only to find that the door was missing and the cafeteria is under construction.

Thus we made our way instead to a magic cafeteria, which has recently converted all vegan. It was yummy and exciting (food! I was ecstatic. I should probably eat food more often...); there I happenstanced upon the sole human I know from the general vicinity of tiny town Texas. Fancy that! She is quite lovely.

I have acquired a P.O. Box in college land, if any of you peeps* require the address. I have been searching desperately (not desperately) for postcards and have yet to find them. Soon! I wish to send postcards to all of you.


Days until college: -1


* You're welcome. I am the most eloquent of beings.

Blog Every Day August: 8/21

I'm exhausted. I had Easy Mac, an apple and M&Ms for dinner. Our microwave and mini fridge was finally delivered from the rental humans; quite exciting. My mom left. I have no words to talk about that.

But I'm here.


Days until college: 0

Blog Every Day August: 8/20

While move in day is officially tomorrow, with the proper coaxing my residence hall allowed yours truly to move into the proper box receptacle a day early. This will allow my humans to leave the vicinity of college town with enough time to return to tiny town Texas and not have to rush the already inevitable seven hour drive.

I'm emotionally spent and dreading their departure, but also deeply excited to be rooming with (soon to be current!) roommate and partner in crazy Laurel. She is delightful. We had dinner with our respective humans this evening and spent the entirety of the meal making funny faces at one another and giggling incoherent phrasings ("You have all the cute." "YOU have all the boys!").

Maybe I haven't bemoaned it enough, but I detest having to take things a day at a time (granted, who exactly enjoys this?). I have a broad mindset yet manage to do nothing but worry with it.

Life is tough. And good. Mostly good.




Days until college: 1

Blog Every Day August: 8/19

I blog to you this evening from an ever extravagant (eh) hotel near my college. Move in is on Sunday, which is tricky as my humans must be back home on Monday morning for school and work. Fun times!

This day has been a long one. My dashing knight, John, proved himself to be a miracle car packing ninja this morning as he saw me off. He is one of the sweetest people I have ever known. Granted, he is also one of the most wry; it works. I already miss him very much.

Our journey had a later than expected start (who's surprised?) and ended only a few moments ago despite the fact that I was awakened at the devastatingly early hour of 7 am. My brethren and I were able to have a lovely dinner with my glorious aunt and uncle on the way here, however, which was delightful.

Enjoy this kitten.

Days until college: 2

Blog Every Day August: 8/18

Today I saw my therapist for the last time before college. I'll be checking back in when I visit home, so my therapy isn't over per se, but this is definitely an ending of sorts. I've been dreading it all summer.

The subject of therapists and mental health is almost taboo in many circles. I've come to mostly ignore this. Why? I'm not ashamed. I'm not crazy, either. Therapy is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. To compare myself pre-counseling and today is a difficult proposition in that the change is staggering. I've grown into my skin in ways I would never have fathomed previously.

Despite their good intentions, my first few counselors managed to make me feel inadequate ("It's been six weeks - you should be happier by now") and worse about myself ("You're quite like your father, aren't you?"). I'm verklempt just trying to find words for how grateful I am for the lovely woman I have been seeing for the past year and a half. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that she cares for and about me deeply. I've never felt judged, unsafe or rushed*.

I have, to be cliche, blossomed.


Days until college: 3


* She also makes Harry Potter references. Just saying.

Blog Every Day August: 8/17

If there was ever any question as to whether I was a great big sap, call off the search, as today's events are a vaguely good example of my tendencies.

This afternoon I had the great privilege of lunching with my good friend John. We drove around our metropolis of a town in search of a classy food source; when I refused to choose point blank, John skillfully guided the vehicle in which we were traveling to an Asian buffet (mmm, Asians). It really is the most stylish place around. How it exists is beyond me.

There we (unpredictably) ate food.

Following our foray into fine dining, we removed ourselves from the premises (John kindly allowing me to open the door for myself, a great leap for womankind as a whole) and went to a land in which we consumed ice cream. It was delicious. I was a most elegant creature and spilled mine only twenty times or so.

Our banter throughout the outing was, on the whole, fairly incoherent. He is a quality being.

Tiny town Texas being the unsavory place that it is, I didn't expect to have friends I would miss upon my departure. I will miss John very much, but our adventures need not end here - for which I am grateful. Friendship is nifty.

We're kind of extremely adorable.

Days until college: 4

Blog Every Day August: 8/16

My brethren and I shall be leaving for college land on Friday morning. Here I present you the state of my belongings. I have decided that packing is the most exciting thing to exist.

Days until college: 5

Blog Every Day August: 8/15

In some ways packing for college feels easier than packing for a short trip. The planning has been in stages of completion for months, yet when the rubber hits the road the process isn't as difficult as it was cracked up to be. But I still reserve judgement, as there are still days left in this. I suspect many a breakdown is to follow.

My anxiety levels have reached new lows in the past few days, nudged along by lengthy viewings of The Supersizers (care of the charming, witty and fantastic Lydia) and unknown forces. There's still much to do, but the unknown feels more manageable now that its qualities range on tangible. I suspect tomorrow's ride on the coaster will be different, but for the moment I have stopped shaking and no longer feel close to vomiting... so that's chipper.

On that note, please watch this. It's excellent; I'm obsessed.

Days until college: 6

Blog Every Day August: 8/14

I know, I know. Ever so many of my blogs are cop-outs. I was going to wax poetic on the idea of romantic love today, but seriously: just look at this journal entry I came across a few moments ago. What can I say? I've always been eloquent.

Transcript.

While I most certainly find great enjoyment in poking fun at the journals of younger me, I really am quite proud of this. The bulk of my childhood diaries give no real insight into my feelings, yet this entry scratches the surface of my whole existence (drama!).

I would still quite like to punch people most days. Some things don't change.


Days until college: 7

Blog Every Day August: 8/13

I hate shopping. My mother has had to forcibly drag me into stores since I was but a wee lass. Unless books or stuffed animals are involved I flee, and even then I find peace only in small doses. Florescent lighting makes me feel slightly sick; I am easily overwhelmed; life is ever so difficult.

But today my brethren and I ventured to The Container Store, which is a magical land quite worth the spike in adrenaline and subsequent exhaustion. Organization is one of my very favorite things and my mother happens to be a bit of an organizing guru.

This happened. It was intense.

I am an adult.

Can you tell how amused I am by adding
photos to these posts? It's so much fun!
It's almost as if I'm interesting.

I don't know how I can thank you all for your consistently fantastic and caring comments through this rather violently emotional month. Today has been slightly better. You truly do have my love, glitter and heartfelt appreciation. I will bake each and every one of you cookies, providing you visit me directly and ply me with affection. If only all tokens of love came this cheaply, no?

Do not question the coffee.

I've made plans to see John for lunch next week before I'm off to college land; we continue to plot the destruction of the earth via llamas and remain the classiest of individuals. Partners in crazy Laurel and Manar have been texting me details of their adventures with interfriends all day. 

This is what my evening currently looks like. I haven't spoken directly to my interwife's face in quite some time and have missed her ever so. Currently she is teaching me camp songs.

Life is good.

My living area has looked like this for weeks.
Packing schmacking.

Days until college: 8

Blog Every Day August: 8/12

In nine days I will be living with one of my closest friends. Her name is Laurel.

I gave her this pen. She hasn't realized I had it
enchanted to make her like me yet. Shh!

We crossed paths in interland last November; soon our common interest in libraries and librarianship was realized and she convinced me to visit her college. She's a writer, musician, YouTuber, and super cool human being. I visited her in December, then in February and June. I decided her college was right; she asked me to be her roommate. Somewhere in the mix we became close.

She was the first interperson I met in person in the big, wide world. And she got (gets) me. We're both complete and utter saps with crazy tendencies, so it works out pretty well. We worry and obsess over similar things. Our words to one another might as well be encrypted for all the sense they make to those surrounding us.

Laurel is all around delightful. I think I will keep her.

Laurel makes the best faces.

Yours truly: "WHAT SHOULD I BLOG ABOUT?"
Laurel: "How hot I am."

I concur.


Days until college: 9

Blog Every Day August: 8/11

I wrote you a letter.

Transcript.

Blog Every Day August: 8/10

When I'm particularly stressed my stomach goes on strike more than usual (we really aren't often pals). Needless to say, I don't feel well. I'm slightly shaky and teared up without any prior notice a few moments ago. Most of my time lately is spent in a haze that roller-coasters from numbness to hot flashes of emotion in as much time as it takes to write one's name.

My mother is busy. I lack the wherewithal to say the simplest of things to those I care about. My lists only extend so far. I need to make phone calls; I am terrified of phone calls. I should pack, but I lack the heart. I don't want to leave, I don't want to leave, I don't want to leave.

I know that it is going to be okay, but the mere knowledge that I will get through this does little for me. I have always worked on this knowledge in some form; one should note that this knowledge is not to be construed as true feeling. In the grand scheme, things have worked out for me - and better than expected - but this doesn't detract from the pain of transition. This hardly sanctions that change is in any way easy.

Achieving higher education has always been the goal, which may be why this change turns me inside out so. It's ominous, an end and a beginning I brought about largely for myself, one thing I had some small control over. Now that it's here, I don't know what to do with myself.

The change is good. The transition is crushingly difficult.


Days until college: 11

Blog Every Day August: 8/9

My childhood was that of a military brat*. Following several moves in early childhood, my father joined the Navy and was soon stationed in Italy; I was eight years old. In our first three years we lived in Gaeta, a tiny and picturesque town lying somewhere between Naples and Rome.

In my picture memory, everything is lush. Distant mountains are painted upon the sky. The rush of traffic is a cacophonous yet comforting murmur and ivy clings to iron gates set into the sidewalk. Waves glisten beside great slabs of pavement which touch the ocean downtown. There is a bakery on every corner and an ice cream shop always within walking distance.

The military base was set into a hill. It was called "The Hill" by military folk and the base itself was tiny, allowing room only for a small grocery store, mail room and restaurant. From the entrance of the base one could also hike to the very top of the hill, which was seemingly more than a hill but much less than a mountain, to view a sort of tomb and assorted statuary of a biblical nature. I was once forced to make this hike, so I'm slightly bitter.

We lived atop our own hill, up a shockingly steep grade our car could not surmount when it rained. A family of stray cats lounged about the streets below. Orange and lime trees were scattered about; the driveway was roofed in a net of grapevines; olive trees lined up on a shelf of land directly behind our home.

Our landlady lived somewhere to the left our our home and could often be heard yelling to her daughter-in-law in the apartment below us. The scenery viewed from our sprawling terrace was a watercolor. If one looked carefully enough there was a small patch of ocean caught between swathes of greenery; many a morning was spent with neck craned in an attempt to view my father's ship as it left its port. He was gone most of the time, at sea, which I think made us all happiest.

In three years we would be transferred to a military base an hour's drive away, a change which was more than palpable. The level of pollution in our new area made it difficult to leave the house without suffering a headache, adolescence hit me hard and my family unit soon entered into the latter stages of crumbling. My memories of that time are tinged with gray and I like to forget them.

The station in Gaeta shifted its command shortly after we left and has since shrunk into almost nonexistence.

My mental picture of this town and these times dims as I attempt any consolidation of memory; it is as if it never existed or existed in a dream. But that's okay - I like this dream memory. It's happy there.

Days until college: 12

* Terrible phrase, world, but the only one that fit. I'm appalled, really.

Blog Every Day August: 8/8

My brethren and I are sprawled in various states of what-have-you as we stare into our steel bits of technology after dinner. The silence is companionable.

That I have so little to say makes me angry. I feel devoid of words. I don't want them anymore, I think, a lie. I desire words more than anything. They're here somewhere - they have to be. Somewhere in this empty space, this reluctance to move, this sheer fright. Somewhere. Choosing words is nearing impossible, each strand of thought obscured in a bulky netting from which I cannot find an escape.

Time.

Waiting is exhausting. Excitement is eclipsed by panic.

I will get through this. I will find words again.

I will.


Days until college: 13

Blog Every Day August: 8/7

In two weeks I will be a college student and a six hour drive from my current home. In two weeks I will leave my mom, the one person who has never forsaken me. I feel as though this movement will displace me somehow; I shan't exist any longer. In two weeks all of this will be gone.

This waiting game is one I have known all too well, yet its compass now dips into uncharted territory. This waiting game has never ended before. Now the countdown once set at a trickle pace hurtles toward an end I cannot imagine fully.

New belongings have slowly overtaken a corner of my room as the summer has progressed. I haven't yet had the heart to disassemble that which I already own and use regularly. Instead I create list upon list of to-dos with the frustrated knowledge that for all my planning there will be something I forget or cannot obtain until I am immersed in a new location.

I sit quietly, suspended and numb in the knowledge that I will soon be gone.

I haven't cried enough. I haven't written enough. I haven't... enough.

I will never be ready. Maybe this is what burns the most.

Blog Every Day August: 8/6

Currently I am conversing with my good friend John on the telephone. He is the one human I have truly befriended here in the realm of tiny town Texas and I shall miss him immensely when I depart. Our friendship is an odd but quality one. He is also participating in Blog Every Day August, which certainly adds to his class levels (visit him!).

Last month we went on a glorious faux date and saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part II together. I wore my Ravenclaw tie and he paid for my ticket and refused to let me open doors for myself; it was delightfully cheesy.

"Why are you leaving?" he demands.

"I'm a cruel, cruel person."

"I'm glad you realize that."

Blog Every Day August: 8/5

I feel that if ever there were an appropriate moment to pledge my love to an inanimate object, it would be now. Ralph was installed in my home today and I believe we will be very happy together. I am fully committed to making this long distance relationship work. Nothing will stop our love.

Our old friend Dobbin contacted me via everyone's favorite (cough) social networking website a week ago, in desperate need to atone for his sins. Or, rather, inform me of his sins. You know, over a year following his unceremonious dumping of yours truly via text message. Luckily I knew them, or else I might very well have died in utter shock. I said just enough to convey I was willing to listen. Our largely one-sided "conversation" was about him, not me; it was, I figured, his party. 

And you know what I did, my friends? I forgave him.

I'd like to clear up a common misconception here. Forgiveness does not equal reconciliation, nor does it have to in order to be meaningful. Forgiveness allows for all parties in an unfortunate situation to move on. Forgiveness allows closure. This is what I did for Dobbin. He needed to be forgiven. 

This does not mean that I plan to associate with him again. This does not mean that I will accept the friend request he inevitably sent me a day later. And this certainly does not mean that he isn't a scumbag.

I could have said a lot of things to Dobbin. 

Instead I let go. It feels good.

Blog Every Day August: 8/4

Today temperatures in tiny town Texas reached a walloping 109 degrees Fahrenheit; my brethren and I have been forced to have our canine friend boarded with the vet and find refuge in a hotel room following Bertha's untimely demise. I spent the afternoon in my mother's current place of business keeping cool and watching children's movies. Toy Story 3 had me positively in knots. I don't know that I will ever forgive Andy for giving his friends away, honestly.

The things I cannot say tug at my tender edges until I feel torn in half.

More often than not I have neither words nor a desire for them. There is a blankness inside me that wasn't there before. Part of me (most of me) thinks this: It was in times of greatest turmoil that I found words. In learning to cope I have lost them. In straightening out my thoughts I have misplaced the skewed, topsy turvy sort of logic that lent some skewed, topsy turvy sort of sense to my world then.

I have sea legs; this stillness boggles and nauseates me.

Blog Every Day August: 8/3

I dearly wish to entertain you, my friends. Truly I do. However, lacking a working air conditioner in August (in Texas!) is less than a happy event and has seriously negated my work ethic. I may or may not be slowly turning into an unrecognizable blob of sweat. Don't worry! I'll reconstitute eventually. Until then, I'm the one raving madly about llamas and trickery in the glitter distribution industry to anyone who wished listen (and a few who don't). It's difficult to miss me.

For now I find myself sitting as still as possible in front of my computer (it's hot, but it's also necessary for survival) with the lights off. My portable fan is working its heart out. I've opened the window behind me for the first time in my memory and am even wearing capris. To those unaware of the enormity of this wardrobe change, I have lived in extremely warm climates for years and still refuse to wear anything but long pants. I will make brief forays into skirt wearing for the amusement and fun of it, but long pants are where my fashion deprived soul finds true nourishment.

I find great delight in my crazy; you needn't worry.

Bertha's replacement is to be installed on Friday. I hear he is a dapper and up-and-coming gentleman who shall make my brethren and I exceedingly joyous; I believe I will call him Ralph.

Until then, let us take this time to ruminate on the admirable service our Bertha provided. May her spirit rest peacefully in GACPA forevermore.

Blog Every Day August: 8/2

Today's edition of Blog Every Day August is brought to you by Bertha, the air conditioner who semi-faithfully served my current place of inhabitance for seventeen years. 

Following an extended period of illness, this evening Bertha's spirit departed planet earth* in favor of the Great Air Conditioning Palace Above (GACPA). Bertha lived to a ripe old age in her home, where she enjoyed whispering sweet lullabies to fellow inhabitants and serving her life's purpose adequately in the blistering heat of tiny town Texas. She is survived by three humans, two felines and one canine. A memorial service will follow; well wishers are advised to dress casually.

* There were fumes and many loud noises. It was quite dramatic and heart wrenching, I assure you; Miss Bertha certainly had panache. 

Blog Every Day August: 8/1

The days collapse into one another painstakingly and as quietly as if they never existed. I am surrounded by the unwritten; all things notable seem somehow too secret, scary and sensitive to voice. I tread around them carefully, afraid my very touch will make them immediately real. Words are difficult: each one stings a little as I pry it from the recesses of my consciousness. I almost want to stop fighting for them.

Yet it is now more than ever that I require the anchoring power I once found in words.

Welcome to Blog Every Day August, friends.