Let me try describe what is in my head at the moment. Or, to be more specific, how I AM.
I think that is what I am going to do.
I chopped all of my hair off yesterday. Well, I didn't. I paid a man a lot of money to do it and I LOVED IT when I left. Today, I do not love it. Today I think I am too...round to have this haircut, thus ensuing a lot of moments of me making faces at myself whenever I happen upon a mirror.
I am in Zack's boxers ( he has more than one pair but I see that that could be read as though he didn't and I suppose I could've started this sentence with "I am in a pair of one of Zack's myriad choices of boxers.", but I didn't and now here we are stuck inside of these parantheses...) and a tank top and just before I started this random writing I was peeling the skin off of my chest where I forgot to put sunscreen on when we were at the beach. Which, Lord knows, I only got to experience for about 45 minutes for the 2 whole days we were there but I made a damn fine dinner of Chicken Cordon Bleu one night and took a bath in a jacuzzi tub that did not jacuzzi.
I am rambling. I know this. It's my blog. I can do that. No, I have not been drinking. No, I am not on anything. This is how my mind works. ;-)
Hawke is to my right, on his very own couch cushion and I am on the other one. This is an important detail you see, as any attempt to try and share a cushion and all parties involved begin to collapse in on one another. It is a couch that eats you and that doesn't go well at all with my moderate claustrophobia. I can start to freak out when my arm gets caught in my jacket sleeve.
What did the General do with his armies? He put them in his sleevies!
Speaking of arms, Hawke's left arm is thrown over his face in the cutest "woe is me" pose imaginable and he is sound asleep. I have just given him a bath in a collodial oatmeal mixture that is made by a company who's name sounds like a sneeze.
Currently Craig Ferguson is on the television, his silly snake mug (the one he drinks from, not his FACE) on the screen as I type this, but the sound is muted. I don't normally watch television but I've had it on for a while now and I realise, as I write, it is because I am lonely. Mostly for Zack. I miss that man something fierce. Typically I can go for days by myself and be happy as a lark.
There are adults on the screen there and it gives me a false sense of something. I might just use that last sentence as a lyric in a song. When that ever happens again. When it comes down to Hawke and the house and OneLight stuff and laundry or the piano - all the aforementioned tend to win. As in NOT the piano.
My piano is sullen. I can feel it staring at me.
I am fond of attributing personalities and human like characterisitics to things that aren't human. This actually has a name, "anthropomorphism". I learned about that from an older gentleman who went to my church when I was little. He overheard me making up a conversation between two dandelions that I had picked and a calculator. I remember this vividly although, for the life of me, I cannot remember what the conversation was ABOUT.
He loomed over me, his head blocking the sun, and said,
"Ah, a fellow anthropomorphist."
I, naturally, said,
"Huh?", in the eloquent way of a seven year old.
It's nice to have a name for my quirky habit and when I meet other people who do this I relax a little bit. I can only maintain "normal" conversations skills for so long and then I start slipping up and saying the things I'm really thinking and, depending on the kind of person I'm talking to, that can be very good with nods and laughs and exclamatiions of recognition or very bad with a lot of perplexed expressions and awkward moments.
I get the latter mostly. ;-)
But then I think, don't we all feel like this?
In thinking about anthropomorphism...I once had an entire story line going on with my pack of Crayola markers. It got quite intense but then I lost Orange and he was an intregal part of my narrative and so I lost interest.
Does anyone write limericks any more?
See, if Zack were here all that I am writing out would be things that I was actually saying out loud.
Did I mention I miss him? He's out in San Francisco where he was speaking at places like Twitter and Google. Literally. There are places where these names are. They "exist" in buildings and people work there and make these names, that we throw around casually, like...you know, happen.
Well. This feels very vulnerable. I have thought quite a few times now in the 7 minutes I have been sitting here since putting the period after "vulnerable" that perhaps I won't post this.
Aw heck. Might as well.
My right leg has fallen asleep and is now exploding with fireworks and I want to brush my teeth and the TV is off now and Hawke hasn't moved but he's breathing which is good and so I'm going to take us upstairs gingerly because of my leg and brush my teeth and try to go to sleep.
I feel naughty for purposefully leaving out the proper punctuation for those words up there.
"Devotees of grammatical studies have not been distinguished for any very remarkable felicities of expression. "