Tag Archive: Dog Faced Hermans

Today’s Mantra, while taking my second Eucalyptus-infused shower in less than 24 hours in hopes of clearing my allergy-ridden nose:

Ritual abandon, chaotically enacted with surgical precision.

I am engaging in a project-based mini, semi-vacation within a tiny bit more of a vacation. Otherwise Known As 24 entire hours (plus!) without having to be in the presence of another human being. But my time is drawing to a close. Soon, ruckus will once again descend upon the house, but it will dissipate and a quieter ruckus will ensue. And just that near silent-hum that exists as a background noise whenever there is another person in the house with you, capable of interrupting the quiet at any given moment. Most of a time that is a pleasent hum. Sometime – it’s just nice to muffle it for a day.

I spent my time well. Forced, as I was, to succumb to a mostly horizontal plane of existence due to aforementioned leaky nose and the irresistible allure of lethargy. I’ve been organizing my data. Pushing around bits and bytes from one storage format to another. Sifting through images, music, writing – things of my past that have been stored in various formats throughout my life. Organizing it. Analyzing it. Contemplating it. This life in pixels.

I create systems while I work. Systems of efficiency. Systems of reward. Systems to prevent me from becoming bored. And, while working, I watch – or listen – or create in between bouts of “productivity.” Appreciating the progress. Enjoying the process. Knowing there is a beginning, middle, and forseeable end to this project…makes for a very satisfying few days of laze and precious solitudinous haze.

What are you waiting for?

Things are gearing up in Chicago. It’s going to be difficult to keep my eyes off of my feed and on my work tomorrow.

Right now, I’m freshly showered and staring at tiny lights in between words/thoughts.

Being a mama is so freaking difficult, you guys. My goal, as a parent, is to allow my children to have as much freedom as I feel like they are capable of handling responsibly, and to allow them as many choices as I can.

Sometimes, that makes things a lot more difficult. Sometimes…I’m not entirely sure I’ve made the right choices as a parent, so how can I expect my children to make the right choices as children?

I found this poem fragment in an old journal:

Usually my relationships die like Elvis

on the toilet.

This one

Kurt Cobained – offing itself

before it had a chance to become what it swore it never would be.

(I’m glad I still have heroes. I’m glad I still have dreams)