Even in the greatest yogi, sorrow and joy still arise just as before. The difference between an ordinary person and the yogi is how they view their emotions and react to them.
An ordinary person will instinctively accept or reject them, and so arouse the attachment or aversion that will result in the accumulation of negative karma.
A yogi, however, perceives everything that rises in its natural, pristine state, without allowing grasping to enter his perception.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
tom sends dharmic reminders
atom and eve
I love Keri Smith's blog. So much wisdom mixed up with a little angst and total optimism. I think I put up a quote I found on her blog a couple of days ago. I hope it's not too soon to put up another.
Interesting thought. And my first question is, what kind of particle would I be? Even better, what kind of element would I be? For that matter, what kind of element would you be?
What would you attract? Would you be a noble gas? Highly reactionary? Stable? Inert? Combustible? Would you be taking in negative ions or scattering them about you? Would you wander far or stay close by?
Good god I've been Emdot the Heavy for the past 48 hours. Hopefully today some of that can start to die down. I hate it when I get too much in my head. But likewise I also like it when people in my life read my blog and call to talk about it and/or call me on my shit.
Last night I got called on said shit and was forced -- in a not necessarily unpleasant way -- to look at my patterns, defenses and habitual whateveryouwannacallits. And I didn't take it all in at face value, but the truth of the matter is: it was pretty accurate. And seriously? To me, that is a big part of friendship. A good friend will support you with honesty and a dose of 20/20 vision.
What you do with it, I guess, is your business. But it doesn't hurt to look.
Why can't my blog be funny like More Than Donuts?
I promise full blown levity in the days that come.
An elementary particle is not an independently existing, unanalyzable entity. It is, in essence, a set of relationships that reach outward to other things.
— H.P. Stapp, twentieth-century physicist
Interesting thought. And my first question is, what kind of particle would I be? Even better, what kind of element would I be? For that matter, what kind of element would you be?
What would you attract? Would you be a noble gas? Highly reactionary? Stable? Inert? Combustible? Would you be taking in negative ions or scattering them about you? Would you wander far or stay close by?
Good god I've been Emdot the Heavy for the past 48 hours. Hopefully today some of that can start to die down. I hate it when I get too much in my head. But likewise I also like it when people in my life read my blog and call to talk about it and/or call me on my shit.
Last night I got called on said shit and was forced -- in a not necessarily unpleasant way -- to look at my patterns, defenses and habitual whateveryouwannacallits. And I didn't take it all in at face value, but the truth of the matter is: it was pretty accurate. And seriously? To me, that is a big part of friendship. A good friend will support you with honesty and a dose of 20/20 vision.
What you do with it, I guess, is your business. But it doesn't hurt to look.
Why can't my blog be funny like More Than Donuts?
I promise full blown levity in the days that come.
treebones yurt cabins in big sur
Dan just sent me an email. He and his gf were traipsing up and down the big sur coastline over the three-day weekend and he saw this place and thought of me. I love yurts! I love Big Sur! Hence, this is my new idyllic place to stay in Big Sur.
Okay, okay, so in all reality, Ventana and Post Ranch are still my epitome of Big Sur Dreamtime, but the yurts might be more in my budget. :)
Okay, okay, so in all reality, Ventana and Post Ranch are still my epitome of Big Sur Dreamtime, but the yurts might be more in my budget. :)
Monday, May 30, 2005
more tall flowers
everybody grows
So Catherine, my dear friend Catherine, calls to talk about my last blog entry. God love her.
She agrees on both parts: we change and we stay the same. Only she says "we grow, Marya, we grow. Everybody grows."
She went on, "Even at 80. Even at 90. We'll be growing."
Amen. And so true.
Catherine has a friend who just turned 100. One hundred years old. And Catherine has known her for years and years. And for most of the years and years you could not bring up the woman's birthday or age. But turning 100 has changed all that. One hundred years later and the woman learned how to embrace her age.
And while I like that story, here's my fingers crossed that my own learning pattern may be a bit quicker.
So Catherine, my dear friend Catherine, calls to talk about my last blog entry. God love her.
She agrees on both parts: we change and we stay the same. Only she says "we grow, Marya, we grow. Everybody grows."
She went on, "Even at 80. Even at 90. We'll be growing."
Amen. And so true.
Catherine has a friend who just turned 100. One hundred years old. And Catherine has known her for years and years. And for most of the years and years you could not bring up the woman's birthday or age. But turning 100 has changed all that. One hundred years later and the woman learned how to embrace her age.
And while I like that story, here's my fingers crossed that my own learning pattern may be a bit quicker.
matt and marya, senior year of high school
the song remains the same
So my weird news of late has been me dating an old high school boyfriend. I think I mentioned this a few weeks ago.
So the long-story short is that we dated at the end of my senior year. We haven't seen each other in either 16 or 19 years (we can't remember). He only moved back to the Central Coast in January. Three weeks ago he was walking downtown and I drove by him on the street (stopped at the corner -- he was waiting to cross, I was waiting to turn; he saw me; I didn't see him) and he looked me up and called me minutes later. We've gone out a handfull of times since.
So, beyond the strange part of dating an old high school boyfriend, a few things have really been blowing my mind.
One, there is just no explaining connections. Me and this guy have a strong connection. And very few things in common. Well, we have history in common, but few things beyond that. To have a connection and little in common is a strange phenomena. It makes me believe in, or rather, want to explain it away as, past lives or some karmic hoo-haw.
Two, people don't change that much. Our dynamic is crazily similar to that of high school. And our relationship is playing out very similarly to the one we had in high school. Our paths have been night and day (we are night and day). He joined the army. He got married. He had kids. He's lived all over the states. I've stayed put. I never married. I went to college. I don't have kids. Yet, our interaction? Just turn back the clock. It's fucking crazy! The same good things. The same bad things. The same reactions. The same dilemmas. I find this fascinating, frustrating, sad and truth be told, really neat -- for lack of a better word.
I have been known to overly elaborate on how much I've changed. How different I am. I do feel, really, like a completely different person. But, dating Matt I am forced to admit: I'm not. I'm hardly changed at all.
I love that. I hate that. But more than anything, I just really marvel at it -- how we are who we are. From birth to death. So the question begs, can people change? And if they can, in what ways can they change?
Maybe growing older we just become ... hmmm... like a photograph.... the contrasts might get tweaked. The hue. A filter may come into play. But bottom line is, the image remains the same.
Funny how life works.
It is taking all my willpower to not type out where I think this puppy is headed. I don't want to write that here, cuz I think it is my defense mechanism playing out. So, my lips are sealed. And I'll just try to stay open to life as it presents itself.
And THAT -- that my friends -- is the difference.
So my weird news of late has been me dating an old high school boyfriend. I think I mentioned this a few weeks ago.
So the long-story short is that we dated at the end of my senior year. We haven't seen each other in either 16 or 19 years (we can't remember). He only moved back to the Central Coast in January. Three weeks ago he was walking downtown and I drove by him on the street (stopped at the corner -- he was waiting to cross, I was waiting to turn; he saw me; I didn't see him) and he looked me up and called me minutes later. We've gone out a handfull of times since.
So, beyond the strange part of dating an old high school boyfriend, a few things have really been blowing my mind.
One, there is just no explaining connections. Me and this guy have a strong connection. And very few things in common. Well, we have history in common, but few things beyond that. To have a connection and little in common is a strange phenomena. It makes me believe in, or rather, want to explain it away as, past lives or some karmic hoo-haw.
Two, people don't change that much. Our dynamic is crazily similar to that of high school. And our relationship is playing out very similarly to the one we had in high school. Our paths have been night and day (we are night and day). He joined the army. He got married. He had kids. He's lived all over the states. I've stayed put. I never married. I went to college. I don't have kids. Yet, our interaction? Just turn back the clock. It's fucking crazy! The same good things. The same bad things. The same reactions. The same dilemmas. I find this fascinating, frustrating, sad and truth be told, really neat -- for lack of a better word.
I have been known to overly elaborate on how much I've changed. How different I am. I do feel, really, like a completely different person. But, dating Matt I am forced to admit: I'm not. I'm hardly changed at all.
I love that. I hate that. But more than anything, I just really marvel at it -- how we are who we are. From birth to death. So the question begs, can people change? And if they can, in what ways can they change?
Maybe growing older we just become ... hmmm... like a photograph.... the contrasts might get tweaked. The hue. A filter may come into play. But bottom line is, the image remains the same.
Funny how life works.
It is taking all my willpower to not type out where I think this puppy is headed. I don't want to write that here, cuz I think it is my defense mechanism playing out. So, my lips are sealed. And I'll just try to stay open to life as it presents itself.
And THAT -- that my friends -- is the difference.
waiting for godot
My good friend Greg sent me an email a couple days ago recommending a flickr group: waiting for godot. He said my empty chair pic might be a good fit.
And I thought to myself, which empty chair pic? Because I have many.
And I started to think about it and I realized: that is the theme of my photos. Waiting.
Waiting is a state I know well. My life is a state of waiting. And arrested development, but that is for another blogpost. And it's not so applicable anymore. But waiting? Waiting I know.
I wait to a fault.
I am the most patient waiter you have ever met in your life.
Hurry up? Urgency? Rushing? These, not so much. But waiting? It's like my signature.
And it's interesting to see that reflected in my photos as well.
And I thought to myself, which empty chair pic? Because I have many.
And I started to think about it and I realized: that is the theme of my photos. Waiting.
Waiting is a state I know well. My life is a state of waiting. And arrested development, but that is for another blogpost. And it's not so applicable anymore. But waiting? Waiting I know.
I wait to a fault.
I am the most patient waiter you have ever met in your life.
Hurry up? Urgency? Rushing? These, not so much. But waiting? It's like my signature.
And it's interesting to see that reflected in my photos as well.
Friday, May 27, 2005
pyjama day on Utata
I am in a really fun group on Flickr called Utata, started by the ever great Catherine Jamieson. The group has about 130 members and only a handful are active in the threads, but the threads are fun and often thought provoking.
There is one guy in Utata who amuses, intrigues and pushes my buttons: Pierre. He's so brash. How can a person be so brash? Anyway, he also has moments of fun ideas such as Pyjama Day. Inspired by Canada's holiday last monday and the US's holiday next monday, the battle cry was issued for pictures in your jammies.
By the way, growing up I said Pyjamas with a flat a. Now I say Pyjahhmas with a full a (what is the name of that a sound?). My mother has insinuated that this is me turning my back on my family and origins. :) I disagree as I still say EEEther instead of IIIther.
There is one guy in Utata who amuses, intrigues and pushes my buttons: Pierre. He's so brash. How can a person be so brash? Anyway, he also has moments of fun ideas such as Pyjama Day. Inspired by Canada's holiday last monday and the US's holiday next monday, the battle cry was issued for pictures in your jammies.
By the way, growing up I said Pyjamas with a flat a. Now I say Pyjahhmas with a full a (what is the name of that a sound?). My mother has insinuated that this is me turning my back on my family and origins. :) I disagree as I still say EEEther instead of IIIther.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Peek a Boo
Today I caught up on a bunch of blogs. It used to be, until Flickr became my online drug of choice, that I had a daily ritual of coffee sipping and morning blog reading. But over the last few months I kind of lost touch with some of these daily visits and it's so nice to go back and see that they've been there all along. Trudging through, maintaining their own daily meandering streamies.
Today I read this on Wish Jar Journals:
I'm a personality who needs extra limits and I hate to admit it. I hate to admit it with a passion. I find it embarrassing. But the truth is, is that I am a highly permissive person. I can make my mind up to do one thing and ten bucks says that in five minutes you can get me to change my mind and off I'll be going in a completely different direction. I am very maleable. This causes problems when it comes to goals or projects.
I have to watch it cuz I could very easily be one of those people who whittles away years and years with the best intentions. More options just make me feel more overwhelmed. I need a task master. I need a weeder outer. And I really really wish that I could be those things for myself.
Maybe I can.
Years ago when I was a vegetarian (and yes, I know, I'm getting really rambly here), people thought I stopped eating meat for ethical reasons; for health reasons; or because everybody was doing it.
No. I did it because I had too many options on a menu. I could never decide. I couldn't decide what to order. I couldn't decide what to make. I couldn't decide what to get at the grocery store. So I became a vegetarian and my life got a whole lot easier.
I need to do something similar these days, tho not pertaining to food. Pertaining more to life in general. Question is, how to pare down without becoming miserly. How to trim without becoming stringent. How to limit without becoming oppressive?
Maybe I should just sit instead and let it work itself out. Meditation is the best medicine. I'm thinking too much.
Today I read this on Wish Jar Journals:
"Limitation is what differentiates a flood from a lake. In the making of things, limitations allow you to choose from something rather than everything." — Corita KentI really relate to that.
I'm a personality who needs extra limits and I hate to admit it. I hate to admit it with a passion. I find it embarrassing. But the truth is, is that I am a highly permissive person. I can make my mind up to do one thing and ten bucks says that in five minutes you can get me to change my mind and off I'll be going in a completely different direction. I am very maleable. This causes problems when it comes to goals or projects.
I have to watch it cuz I could very easily be one of those people who whittles away years and years with the best intentions. More options just make me feel more overwhelmed. I need a task master. I need a weeder outer. And I really really wish that I could be those things for myself.
Maybe I can.
Years ago when I was a vegetarian (and yes, I know, I'm getting really rambly here), people thought I stopped eating meat for ethical reasons; for health reasons; or because everybody was doing it.
No. I did it because I had too many options on a menu. I could never decide. I couldn't decide what to order. I couldn't decide what to make. I couldn't decide what to get at the grocery store. So I became a vegetarian and my life got a whole lot easier.
I need to do something similar these days, tho not pertaining to food. Pertaining more to life in general. Question is, how to pare down without becoming miserly. How to trim without becoming stringent. How to limit without becoming oppressive?
Maybe I should just sit instead and let it work itself out. Meditation is the best medicine. I'm thinking too much.
Conform Project :: nonconform
You can always tell when there are things in my life that I don't want to blog cuz what ends up happening is that I don't blog at all. It's as if holding back in one area causes me to hold back in all of them.
Not necessarily true. Sometimes I just get quiet. But right now it's because I don't want to mouth off or tip my hand or hurt anybody's feelings.
But the problem with self-editing is that it can take on its on oppressive momentum.
So... in no particular order (and still avoiding some topics)....
* I can no longer spell. It started happening about a year ago. I remember thinking "next door neighbor" and my fingers typed out "neck store neighbor." This is not a good sign. I got an email from somebody in Flickr that I don't even know (not a contact, not someone I see in groups) who felt the need to correct one of my typos in the forum (I can't remember if I should have written whose and I wrote who's or if it was the other way around.). Of course, I could really care less about mistakes like that... as long as they are once in a while. But this daily stuff? [ deep breath ]. I think for the first time in my life I have to work on my spelling.
So, in honor of my weakening brain, I offer up an interesting article found through boingboing.net, Eleven Steps to a Better Brain.
* Here is the really embarrassing stuff I don't want to write about. Last night I watched the season finale of American Idol. The results were not good. Lemme preface by saying I do not typically watch American Idol and I do not typically listen to the type of music that AI promotes (pop pap -- blech.). BUT. But. There was a chance that AI could actually gain some credibility and have a rocker win. And a hot rocker at that. Plus, I hate Carrie Underwood. She has the personality of plaster of paris. No, she has the personality of drywall.
Now, I didn't want to write about it because somebody near and dear to me does watch AI with great interest. And this same person really loves Carrie Underwood. And I don't want this person to think that I am dissing CU. But... man. Basically — No. I better stop.
If you can't say something nice....
So instead let me say, it's too bad that AI didn't get the chance to have someone more interesting win. Someone who could have changed the cliche that AI is. Not that he would have been a big stretch, but at least it would have pointed things in the right direction.
Not necessarily true. Sometimes I just get quiet. But right now it's because I don't want to mouth off or tip my hand or hurt anybody's feelings.
But the problem with self-editing is that it can take on its on oppressive momentum.
So... in no particular order (and still avoiding some topics)....
* I can no longer spell. It started happening about a year ago. I remember thinking "next door neighbor" and my fingers typed out "neck store neighbor." This is not a good sign. I got an email from somebody in Flickr that I don't even know (not a contact, not someone I see in groups) who felt the need to correct one of my typos in the forum (I can't remember if I should have written whose and I wrote who's or if it was the other way around.). Of course, I could really care less about mistakes like that... as long as they are once in a while. But this daily stuff? [ deep breath ]. I think for the first time in my life I have to work on my spelling.
So, in honor of my weakening brain, I offer up an interesting article found through boingboing.net, Eleven Steps to a Better Brain.
* Here is the really embarrassing stuff I don't want to write about. Last night I watched the season finale of American Idol. The results were not good. Lemme preface by saying I do not typically watch American Idol and I do not typically listen to the type of music that AI promotes (pop pap -- blech.). BUT. But. There was a chance that AI could actually gain some credibility and have a rocker win. And a hot rocker at that. Plus, I hate Carrie Underwood. She has the personality of plaster of paris. No, she has the personality of drywall.
Now, I didn't want to write about it because somebody near and dear to me does watch AI with great interest. And this same person really loves Carrie Underwood. And I don't want this person to think that I am dissing CU. But... man. Basically — No. I better stop.
If you can't say something nice....
So instead let me say, it's too bad that AI didn't get the chance to have someone more interesting win. Someone who could have changed the cliche that AI is. Not that he would have been a big stretch, but at least it would have pointed things in the right direction.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Which Religion Is Right for You?
You scored as Buddhism. Your beliefs most closely resemble those of Buddhism. Do more research on Buddhism and possibly consider becoming Buddhist, if you are not already.
In Buddhism, there are Four Noble Truths: (1) Life is suffering. (2) All suffering is caused by ignorance of the nature of reality and the craving, attachment, and grasping that result from such ignorance. (3) Suffering can be ended by overcoming ignorance and attachment. (4) The path to the suppression of suffering is the Noble Eightfold Path, which consists of right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right-mindedness, and right contemplation. These eight are usually divided into three categories that base the Buddhist faith: morality, wisdom, and samadhi, or concentration. In Buddhism, there is no hierarchy, nor caste system; the Buddha taught that one's spiritual worth is not based on birth.
Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com
You scored as Buddhism. Your beliefs most closely resemble those of Buddhism. Do more research on Buddhism and possibly consider becoming Buddhist, if you are not already.
In Buddhism, there are Four Noble Truths: (1) Life is suffering. (2) All suffering is caused by ignorance of the nature of reality and the craving, attachment, and grasping that result from such ignorance. (3) Suffering can be ended by overcoming ignorance and attachment. (4) The path to the suppression of suffering is the Noble Eightfold Path, which consists of right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right-mindedness, and right contemplation. These eight are usually divided into three categories that base the Buddhist faith: morality, wisdom, and samadhi, or concentration. In Buddhism, there is no hierarchy, nor caste system; the Buddha taught that one's spiritual worth is not based on birth.
Buddhism | 75% | ||
agnosticism | 58% | ||
Paganism | 58% | ||
Hinduism | 54% | ||
Islam | 50% | ||
Christianity | 46% | ||
Satanism | 38% | ||
atheism | 33% | ||
Judaism | 33% |
Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com
Monday, May 23, 2005
my puppy and me
Go and read this story. I'm telling you: great way to start your day is to read the story and look at the happy faces in this photo. :)
Thursday, May 19, 2005
from the ever great brezny
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Nearly half of American high school students believe that the government should have the power to censor the news. Surveys also show that a majority of adults in the U.S. would vote against the Bill of Rights if it were presented to them in a referendum. Don't be anything like those wackos in the coming days, Virgo. On the contrary, you should fight for all the freedom you can imagine, including the freedom of other people as well as your own. Be an expert in liberation.
The Stepford Bday Cake
Yesterday wasn't only my mom's birthday. It was also my Aunt Stella's birthday. And today is MJ's birthday. And even tho MJ and I don't share a drop of blood, she's family too.
Remind me (yeah, that's it; remind me; you know, in my nonexistant comments section) to tell you the story of the shared birthdays of my mom and Stella -- life is all entwined I'm telling you and it's a good story.
Remind me (yeah, that's it; remind me; you know, in my nonexistant comments section) to tell you the story of the shared birthdays of my mom and Stella -- life is all entwined I'm telling you and it's a good story.
summer comes early (spring came late)
Yesterday was my mom's birthday so I took the day off from work. Last year we mosied up the California Coast and spent the day in Big Sur (hello: bliss). This year we kept it closer to home not going farther than Arroyo Grande for a movie.
We caught a late-afternoon matinee of Crash and saw all the Star Warsers lined up with their folding chairs and their light sabers. My mom thought this was strange. I thought it looked fun (not for me; for them).
While I'm sure all the talk is going to be about the Revenge of the Sith, I'd like to recommend going to see Crash. Best movie I've seen in months.
- - - -
My mind has been in a nostalgic whirl the last couple of days. I saw Matt, who I mentioned the other day. And that set a reminiscing film reel spinning in my head. It was great to see him.
I love catching up with people from my past. Certain people, anyway. There is a kind of immutable comfortability, inherent in just seeing each other. A complete ease, a kind of lack of self-consciousness. I talked about this last August after my high school reunion. Matt wasn't in my class (in fact, finished his senior year at a different high school) and I hadn't seen him in almost 20 years (we can't quite figure out the last time we saw each other; but it's been 17, 18, 19 years). But it was great to catch up. To hear a voice you remember in your spine or to recognize a chuckle or a certain look. I'm a sucker for that stuff. Also, I love meeting up with old friends and seeing how their lives turned out, hearing about their kids, where they've lived, what they've done. Seeing how they've changed, they've grown, they've triumphed, they've fallen, they've gotten back up... yet through it all — no matter how much they have morphed into their adult self — there are little remnants that linger.
We caught a late-afternoon matinee of Crash and saw all the Star Warsers lined up with their folding chairs and their light sabers. My mom thought this was strange. I thought it looked fun (not for me; for them).
While I'm sure all the talk is going to be about the Revenge of the Sith, I'd like to recommend going to see Crash. Best movie I've seen in months.
- - - -
My mind has been in a nostalgic whirl the last couple of days. I saw Matt, who I mentioned the other day. And that set a reminiscing film reel spinning in my head. It was great to see him.
I love catching up with people from my past. Certain people, anyway. There is a kind of immutable comfortability, inherent in just seeing each other. A complete ease, a kind of lack of self-consciousness. I talked about this last August after my high school reunion. Matt wasn't in my class (in fact, finished his senior year at a different high school) and I hadn't seen him in almost 20 years (we can't quite figure out the last time we saw each other; but it's been 17, 18, 19 years). But it was great to catch up. To hear a voice you remember in your spine or to recognize a chuckle or a certain look. I'm a sucker for that stuff. Also, I love meeting up with old friends and seeing how their lives turned out, hearing about their kids, where they've lived, what they've done. Seeing how they've changed, they've grown, they've triumphed, they've fallen, they've gotten back up... yet through it all — no matter how much they have morphed into their adult self — there are little remnants that linger.
falling for haley
I can't sleep.
It could be worse. It could be two hours earlier. And I didn't try to fight it that much. Who knows. Maybe I'll still tumble back into bed and wake up later. But meanwhile, I can't sleep.
This may be responsible for the mysterious eye twitch that began to happen yesterday afternoon. A headache and an eye twitch. How lovely. How attractive. It's hot I'm telling you.
I never get headaches. That's one of those sentences I like to toss around like a big braggy beachball. Headaches? Never get them. But, like a well-worn and starting to fade favorite accessory, I don't know how much longer I can wear that one. I've had at least ten headaches in recent memory.
Dammit. I hate having to change my defining sentences.
I'm blaming alcohol. And it's not that I've been out clubbing it up. I haven't. And it's not that I went on some binge. I didn't. There were simply a chain of social events that, you know, required some imbibing. And while I didn't necessarily over do it every night, I think I have residual alcohol build up. That coupled with the inability to sleep past 5:30 the last few mornings has made me a little cloudy the last few days.
Which may explain that hawt eye twitch.
It could be worse. It could be two hours earlier. And I didn't try to fight it that much. Who knows. Maybe I'll still tumble back into bed and wake up later. But meanwhile, I can't sleep.
This may be responsible for the mysterious eye twitch that began to happen yesterday afternoon. A headache and an eye twitch. How lovely. How attractive. It's hot I'm telling you.
I never get headaches. That's one of those sentences I like to toss around like a big braggy beachball. Headaches? Never get them. But, like a well-worn and starting to fade favorite accessory, I don't know how much longer I can wear that one. I've had at least ten headaches in recent memory.
Dammit. I hate having to change my defining sentences.
I'm blaming alcohol. And it's not that I've been out clubbing it up. I haven't. And it's not that I went on some binge. I didn't. There were simply a chain of social events that, you know, required some imbibing. And while I didn't necessarily over do it every night, I think I have residual alcohol build up. That coupled with the inability to sleep past 5:30 the last few mornings has made me a little cloudy the last few days.
Which may explain that hawt eye twitch.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Devizes to Westminster Canoe Race
My flickr friend Shepherd sent me a link to more proof of the evilness that is the swan.
The flickr caption reads
The flickr caption reads
"Canoists taking part int he Devises to Westminster canoe race had an unexpected hazard to negotiate on the Kennet & Avon Canal near the start where a swan attacked them as they passed his nest.Moral of the story? Don't trust the swan! Don't trust the swan!
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Mom & Marya
Me and my mama, as taken on Mother's Day by my little (and very fabulous) sister, Becca. I love this photo. ;)
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