May 29th, 2003


In aww of coffee

I awoke to Michele's asking me if I'd called into work, because it was after 8.

That isn't a good thing.

A big linen-line on my face extended from my forehead, over my left eye, and all the way down my cheek. I looked like a comic book villian for hours.

That really isn't a good thing.

I ran downstairs to discover that Michele had made me coffee, out of the kindness of her heart.*

OK, that made everything better. :)


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I don't expect I'll talk about that guy here too often. I'd like to keep this journal pirate-friendly; horse-friendly, too. I also feel too exposed and vulnerable when I write in blood and bile. Anything pertinent I'll likely keep to myself or put behind a cut. I'm not going to self-censor completely, though. I do too much of that irl as it is.

Here I am, this is me, I like to share. Even if it's not always pretty or complimentary or what other people want to hear. I don't want any of my friendships, especially the most important ones, to be based on deception, even if it's for the express purpose of "being nice." Because lying is never actually "nice." But disclosure's another matter, and putting sensitive information behind a cut only seems to make sense.

So no facades, no best face. I hope that when you know me well, you'll like me anyway.


Anywho, I'm looking forward to seeing a pirate again later today, and looking forward to rehearsal as well. I've developed a pretty strong subtext for Tit/Obe, and am curious as to whether my intention makes sense and reads to the audience, or just confuses things. Titania's a delicious role, and I plan on plumbing its depths and abandoning myself to its glorious heights.


I wrote a great entry yesterday on my love life (there may not be a lot of it, but damned if what there is of it isn't convoluted!) as a one-act argument between my Id, Ego and Superego. It was really quite funny, but probably won't make it to print anytime soon. Too close to home, I think.

I might rewrite it and expand upon it as short fiction or a script.


I haven't been on AIM in a dog's age. My apologies. Especially to horseofshadows-- I miss chatting with you, and truly do intend to set up a metrophotohost account (eep, what happened to the linkie?) to share my Sarasota photos and my NJ ones. I'm just up to my neck in spackle.


Speaking of spackle, I've been attacking the crown moulding (rather than replacing it). This process is taking FOR-EVAH. I'm considering not going to Boston so that I can make more progress. There's more sanding to be done on the sills and the walls, and I don't even know what colour I'm painting the room, for heaven's sake.

However, I don't get to see Miss A very often (she's the one who moved to California), so I want to spend some time with her when she's so close by.


This is a braindump, this is only a braindump. I meant to post this hours ago, but in my enfeebled and confused state didn't feel right about it.

I still don't, but I'm getting tired of writing and writing and writing only to stuff my thoughts away into little text files I'll never find again.


* Truth be told, she used ground beans and water like everyone else.
** The winky face, while not verbally present, was implied.
*** I can too use best-man as a verb!
**** My organs often argue.
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    but if you don't, it's still better than liking a faux me