Uh-Oh, Poetry: A Well-Respected Me

To the tune of  "A Well Respected Man" by the Kinks


I’ve found a boy to be good to
I love him very much
If you knew him, you would too
He’s bright and sweet and such
I’ve made a home with him
With each paycheck earned & spent
We filled all the rooms therein
And we pay the bills and rent

And I’m all grown up
And I’m just fine
And I’m responsible
With my money and my time
A child who grew too tall
Made to work
And act appropriately

I have a steady job downtown
Filing papers in the State’s employ
Because it’s fairly well-known
There’s no pay in work you enjoy
So I repay my debts with interest
Earning money with every turning page
Seeing what will last the longest
My self-identity or my wage

And I’m all grown up
And I’m just fine
And I’m responsible
With my money and my time
A child who grew too tall
Made to work
And act appropriately

It’s a little life, I’m first to admit
But it’s well and cheaply made
Fame goes to those who don’t submit
But comfort for those who stayed
With no need to soar, I fledge my nest
Trying to balance the means and ends
I live for the things that I love best
Good stories and food and friends

And I’m all grown up
And I’m just fine
And I’m responsible
With my money and my time
A child who grew too tall
Made to work
And act appropriately

Eventiversary: Ren Faire

So as you may have read recently, me and my person had a rocky start, but eventually got together at our local Ren Faire. This last weekend was our 6th attendance together...it was rather glorious. Since I'm rubbish at times and dates, we don't really do anniversaries so much as enjoy recreating the early events of our relationship as and when they come up around this time of year. It's a lot of fun, and there seems to be a lot less I-dunno-where-do-you-want-to-eat than usual scheduled anniversary dates. I highly recommend it! It's led me to find great emotional meaning for Cake concerts, storage facility rooftops, and the parking lot of the local Ren Faire.

It's like "our parking lot," or something

 We weren't alone, though; our whole tribe of roommates turned out to see our friend Miss Pants in her first year as an official Pirate Tavern Wench at the Faire! Take a look at these crazy characters.

We make a lot of great first impressions

 So, no real post today; more of a follow-up to the get-together story. But we had a blast, and Alaska's summer is so short, you just haveta carpe that diem when you can! I don't even feel guilty. I'll have something less scrapbooky by next week, I'm sure!

Lively lads

One Of Those Ecard Daze: Procrastinating

Could have sworn I'd goofed off more than that...well, now how am I going to waste my time? This work won't accrete around my desk in impossible densities by itself...OH WAIT. YES IT WILL.

Uh-Oh, Poetry: A REAL Love Song

A little more vocabulary, a little less hyberbole. If anyone's musically inclined, I'd love a tune to put this to; alas, I am not musically-minded.

 

~ * ~

For you I would work all my adult life
In a job that’s not really “me”
Alarm clocks, traffic jams, office policy
For the wages to support one husband and wife

They talk about mountains and oceans
To try and express their love
How they’d go beyond and above
Fuelled by superlative emotions

But I’d do real things for you
The kind of things you actually need to do
To build real love

For you I would admit I was wrong
Even if I was still angry at you
I’d learn how to talk it through
So much harder than singing a song

For you I would truly change
Not superficially, but slowly and over time
Your interests would become mine
In loving you, my priorities would rearrange

They talk about mountains and oceans
To try and express their love
How they’d go beyond and above
Fuelled by superlative emotions

But I’d do real things for you
The kind of things you actually need to do
To build real love

For you I would grow up and grow old
Face all of life’s challenge and tragedy
At your side ‘til we’re wrinkled and crotchety
And I know every story you’ve ever told

They talk about mountains and oceans
To try and express their love
How they’d go beyond and above
Fuelled by superlative emotions

But I’d do real things for you
The kind of things you actually need to do
To build real love

Calloo Callay, I Made A Purse Yesterday

Creativity went a bit more of a tactile route last weekend, and instead of a thought-provoking or entertaining blog post, a cute purse was born...as were many needle pokes, a few tears, and many swear words. In fact, that would be my advertisement if I ever went all craft-fair-y (if honesty were ever the best policy in business, that is): A Swear Word In Every Stitch! Lovingly hand-crafted personal receptacles with matching expletives. But don't let that fool you; I am sooo happy with how the little thing turned out. It's mah bebbeh.

Almost laughable, now, looking back on it

It started out really simple; I tell ya, denial is the most important step in beginning a project like this. I came up with a basic design and executed it -- and that was about the first eighth of the actual journey. I ended up buying a stiff material to put in to help it keep its squared shape, and these crazy wooden handles to help distribute the lifting force off a single point on either side of the bag. I did my first-ever inner liner to hide the stiff material, which ended up being awesome as far as improving the professionality of the bag's appearance; I even got to put in 2 inside patch pockets whose stitches didn't have to mar the exterior of the bag, sewn onto the liner layer before it was stitched into the rest of the bag! Plus, all the unfinished edges were hidden, and it added tensile strength to the handle-attachment points. So much better than my last effort.

The Anchorage Costco's fabulous transvestite greeter complimented my bag, asked me where I got it; it was the highlight of my weekend, proudly saying that I'd made it. Hir reaction made my day, and I was still suffering from spontaneous puppy-wiggles of delight an hour after hir booming praise. Totally worth all the needle-pokes.

Game Of Seasons

I have strong feels on this one, guys. Alaska is NOT cooperating.

Lord Stark strikes me as the kind of guy that's got little bandy chicken legs under all those robes, what do you guys say?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I don't know why Blogger's choosing to April-Fools me by posting next week's post now...Roll with it, I guess, and check out the post below; the actual April 1st post.

One Of Those Ecard Daze: Smartphone God

It's been one of those days; one of those dazes. There's many ways to measure the success of your endless day before the keyboard, many of them with the dry wit of someecards.  Here's mine:

 

Hear ye, hear ye.

The Neckbeard Hornbeast

No real post this time - instead, have a whatever-this-is that I just drew. From me to you.

You're welcome.

Uh-Oh, Poetry: The Mill

Watch out, guys; sometimes there's poetry. There doesn't seem to be any way to stop it.

 

 

The Mill

 

The little seconds whir

The minutes tick, tick by

Then it strikes the hour

Once, twice, a dozen times

A dozen times again

With a heave, another day turns over

Whirring whispers tick, tick, tick

Strike, heave; sunrise once more

 

The little gears spin so the big wheels can turn

Heave, heave, days become a week

Rollercoaster creaking up to Wednesday’s apex

Coasting down to Friday’s big plunge

Living for the weekend

Creak, plunge; TGIF

Again and again and again

 

A month slots neatly into place

Beholden to the seasons

The very turning of the world

Their holidays strung like jewels along the line

All so very seasonal

The rituals walking you through your paces

Slot, slot, slot, turn; a season gone

Season’s greetings, everyone

 

A year thuds into line, and it’s an assembly line

It’s a mill, processing your life

The years come in ten-piece sets

Remember your early years fondly

For soon there will be more of them

Thud - once more, twice more, thrice more

Four more times, years stacked high and bundled

 

You grow older, and the early years include your thirties

Your forties, your fifties, any time when you didn’t ache

When you had your own joints

Your own teeth

Your world shrinks in size

The bed, the chair, the window

And in it there is only room for

Whirring seconds

Ticking minutes

And decades, the box sets of your life remembered

 

What was the grist, what was the chaff

Churned in that

whirring

ticking

striking

heaving

creaking

plunging

slotting

turning

thudding

mill?

Business Formal? Pssht. Business FESTIVE!

Okay, it's Opinion Time: Opaque tights negate short skirts, right? And schoolgirl skirts aren't inappropriate for an adult when she's full of CHILDLIKE HOLIDAY WONDER, right??

I say OMG, you say Christmas: OMG!

It's hard enough to express my wellspring of holiday cheer without my Christmas boxes, full of decorations, graphic tees, seasonal jewelry and other fripperies...I have to go with what red and green I've got! Mah mayunn said it's not work-appropriate. I say OMG CHRISTMAS. What do you say?

Let The Hate Fail to Flow Through You

Murder...murder...murder...snuggle.

Hope that made your day like it made mine.

Y So Cirrus?

I *COULD* Write A Blog Post...

...Or I could make my new leather belt into a utility belt by designing/making pockets for everything I'd take on an adventure.

...Come on, which one would YOU choose?