Dang it, I still have laundry

I always leave my laundry half finished. I don't know why. I try very hard to complete it. Yet I find that I don't ever have anything to do until I have laundry that needs washing. So I finally have a day where I can focus on laundry and I also find that there is an errand that I need to run.

Today I had a whole list to of to-dos. I started my laundry with plenty of time to finish before I left. Of course I ended up pushing back my errand until it the last minute. What should have been me leaving for twenty minutes to come back home and finish my laundry turned into me leaving for 6 hours. Now I'm tired and still have to finish my laundry and make my bed. I need to get to that now. Oh boy.

Just a day

While today wasn't frustrating in itself, it almost ended infuriating. It felt long in the sense that I wanted desperately to be in bed at 8 PM. I came home to a package of CDs that I had ordered having arrived. I open the package and find a former library case. Locked. Enter infuriated.

I have this case that I can't open that holds a CD that I can't get out. A CD that could be damaged if I try to force the lock. A CD I paid for that may be broken in the process it being retrieved. I Google searched how to get the case open which led me to a video that didn't quite help my tired brain. I tried to force it but the case just popped back into place once I gave up. I was getting more and more panicked and upset. Two things that really help with reasoning through a situation. I finally hulk it open, inspect my CD for damage and cheer for my success. Thank you, God.

My day ended just the way it had been all day. Just a day. Slightly tiring. All in all, fine.

In despair, I love it

I found out that it is agony and anger puts a special spark through me when it comes to cinema. I don't really understand it. As a person who has tried my hand at acting I know that comedy is the hardest, yet to watch someone give themselves over to anger or agony is captivating. Don't get me wrong I love to laugh...it is my favorite thing to do... but like many people I sometimes overlook the work that goes into comedy and I marvel at the work that goes into the dramatic moments.

The things that get to me are tiny and almost insignificant. Sometimes it's pulling at the hair or the stance, even the flaring of the nostrils. Then there are the harrumphs and the sighs. If the actors weren't completely motivated while doing these, then it wouldn't mean a thing. It makes a significant difference.

One of my favorites to watch as far as this goes is Daniel Radcliffe. From his role as an orphaned wizard to his role as an Aussie orphan (that's a great range, I know, but seriously) he is amazing. He kicks or punches the wall to show that he is angry. He even delivers his lines over his shoulder to show that his character doesn't really care. I particularly enjoy the looks and laughs that he gives in the place of dialogue at times.

Then there is Kristen Stewart playing my favorite wackjob of a cluts, Bella. In Luna Nueva, Isabella completely forgets to live her life. Eduardo decides to split... grumble, grumble - another blog for another time...and she stops, just stops. I was wondering how this would be portrayed. What would happen with the cinematography? How would they go about this? It ended up being brilliant. She sits in the same chair, barely blinking, while the camera circles her to show the weather changing as the months pass. Then there are flashes of her just sitting in other parts of the house. Not moving or speaking, with her dad looking tentatively at her. To me the frozen staring into space was the epitome of her depths of despair. Worse actually. Even as the story progresses she finds herself alone again and sits thinking on the side of the bed and stays there the entire night. If anyone watched that and had any doubt in her mind that Bella has jumped completely over the deep end was totally ripped apart from the abrupt departure of that idiot, coward Edward.

My love letter to Twilight aside, I like being taken into the feelings of the person on the screen. If I can't relate with what is happening I find myself reacting in the most inappropriate way. I laugh when the plot turns, no matter how serious things are. I just like for my movies to keep my attention and make me believe.

I don't know how

So there is a saying that if you don't like a part of your life than you should change it. Okay. Change what you don't like. Got it. I find that people are quick to offer that solution to others. It is a great solution. I definitely understand forcing a person who spends a lot of time complaining to refocus on their part in their suffering. I even get that a person should change what they don't like.

So you tell someone to fix the part of their life they don't like. What happens when the person in question responds with an "I don't know how?" What then? People, myself included, are quick to give general solutions. What happens when a person needs more specific instructions? Then we have nothing.

I feel that maybe before we go off giving advice to issues we know nothing about, maybe we should do some listening.

The long struggle

I love to give blood. I don't particularly know why. I feel as though I do it for selfish reasons. I want to because I want to. The problem is that I have issues keeping my iron high enough. It is a ridiculous struggle trying to donate. People ask me all the time why I bother. I rant about my dislike for raisins and longing for ice cream. They usually have a simple response of don't donate. I must though. I just don't have a good reason. I sometimes say I donate to save lives, but since that isn't quite the right I always feel I am just short of lying. Now all I do is counter the question with why not. Why not? Why not donate if I can? It's a simple thing. A great way to keep my blood pressure down.*

I'm back in my long haul for getting my iron up. I went in and was somewhere around 12.3 when I needed a hemoglobin read of 12.5. I went back two days later after eating ice cream and eggs and tested at a 11.1. Good job me. So we pushed my appointment back a week. Me thinking, I got this no problem I didn't work all that hard. I never consistently took my iron supplements. My diet was a bit better but a few caffeinated items got through the gate. The timing was all wrong though. Two days before I was to donate the reason why women have trouble gave me trouble. I tested at 11.0 and wasn't surprised.

Now it is time for me to get this done. Properly show up to donate. I have three weeks to prepare. By then I'll be ready to scream, "TAKE MY BLOOD ALREADY." So now, supplements, no dairy, no eggs, and I have to figure out a way to get my vitamin C. Orange juice being out of the question with my self-imposed allergy. I find myself missing it for practical reasons. Three weeks. If I cannot get my act together in that time, I am pathetic. I have go to focus.


*No it isn't. While that was once a method doctors used to treat high blood pressure, bleeding the patient isn't a viable method for much anything anymore.

Child turned adult imaginings

When I was a kid I started to make up stories. I'm not talking about just lying through my teeth about everything, although I did some of that. I mean I legitimately made up stories. I would play them out like a live action game. Was I the only kid that did this? Half of me feels that young authors used to do this. The other half feels like it is one of the "grow out of" stages for children. Overactive imagination? (Although I believe that people who use phrases like that just don't have imaginations.)

Live action imaginings. Thinking about it makes me feel like Jojo from Suessical the Musical. Whenever my family and I went on a road trip, I was a princess* being rescued by some bodyguard. My mother, the queen, was always taken away from me, leaving me defenseless. Fortunately, there was a man who should not have cared about me who steps up to feel the void. While my family and myself were driving to our destination, I was being transported by my bodyguard to the safe house. I would go to bed in real life as I was being tucked in by my bodyguard turned father figure.

Or, in line with my strong male figures, I lived with my brother and father. We had a copacetic relationship in a cool flat. I meant the world to them yet lived my life in a way that said I never needed help.** There was probably a love interest cast in the likeness of Tuxedo Mask from Sailor Moon (Ms. Moon may have very well been my problem). I had independence. I had men who would do anything for me. I had it all.

Some of my stories were based in reality. I had a crush on a boy and would dream of the beginnings of our undying love for one another. Laughable, I know. It was always a relationship that couldn't be shaken by anything. Peer pressure, trials, nothing. We were army strong able to endure anything. Somewhere after that I decided to remove the real people from my life from my imaginings. I started making up things that seem so impossible but made my so happy thinking about them. 

• My favorite love story of two who met in high school. They helped each other navigate stresses at home and school. There was an interesting dynamic to their relationship. It seemed that the harder of the two led the pack, but nothing was ever done without the softer's comfort in consideration.
• There was the girl who ran away from an abusive home with a dog that loved her unconditionally. The dog ends up saving her like and being a pathway for her to get to her future husband.
• A girl who was a young dancer having to choose between her boyfriend or the dance troupe that will take far in life.
• There was the one that I may have mentioned before. He's a college boy who loves his mother unconditionally. His mother an incredible pianist that improvised piano compositions while listening to the radio.
• I had teenage pregnancies that needed to be overcome. Usually alone as my family was so angry and ashamed they immediately turned me out.

There were so many travel/touring/live anywhere stories. I recall more that one powerful overseer story.

• A young lady protected from afar by a dangerous person who promised her dying mother/best and only friend to always watch over her.
• There was the wife of a rock star that ended up with seven kids (at my last count), who never missed a tour date and managed to never neglect her kids.
• A girl ran away from home to find her uncle, only seven years her single, who was a tech on tour with some band.

There were spy stories, action stories, love stories, mysteries. These things come to me. Sometimes it's a complete rip off of some narration I've just seen. Sometimes it's a dream that I cannot let go. It is hours of pulling me out of my reality. Sometimes it becomes almost a pre-sleep ritual. I've wondered at what point is it unhealthy. Do I do it as a way to cope with something I don't like? I find fewer stories come to me when I'm feeling content. When things change they start up again. I follow the rabbit trail until a new one pops up.

*Yes, I know the implications of imaging I was a princess. I cringe a bit recalling this.

**I just confused myself. I never caught that conflict when I was younger.

Fun with family can be fun

To celebrate a birthday of a family member I went to a Pintapaint. It's this really cool place where we get a painting lesson while we have a glass of wine. BYOB of course. While I didn't doubt the amount of fun I would have, I was still very pleased with my experience. I enjoy art. Being guided through painting a picture is right up my alley for key entertainment.

I was surprised at the patience of the ladies that ran the studio. I can barely handle sober people sometimes. They had to deal with boisterous people who are buzzed on wine. We told them ten and had seventeen show up. We were supposed to start at 4 PM. However, due to tardiness and unsuspected party goers we didn't start until almost thirty minutes after 5. The only ones who suffered were us because more people meant more money for the them. We had thirty minutes taken out of our two hour class. Our instructor managed to get the whole lesson in. Everyone walked out with a completed painting. I need to do more things like this. It was a lot of fun.

My final product.