time to get something out

(the new dress)

Because this whole past week I was engaged in nothing more creative than spending cash. No videos, no blogs, no articles...and I only advanced about a chapter in my down-under book. I bought plane tickets to Ireland Monday night (yey!) and spent time the rest of the week tiling a table, purchasing a new harp, and planting a wee garden for the window. I also bought a dress for the wedding next month, and took myself out a lot, which is somewhat out of character for me. Bad Teddy.

I need to stay in ALL next week! WRITE WRITE WRITE!

April is going to be buckle down and work and save and write month. I'm very much wanting to buy a scooter, but I think I have to wait until after Ireland...so June. (which is tooo faar away). My car sometimes makes ominous no-good-car-noises. So I hope it lasts me until then!

What do I want to write about, you ask? Geese, I got a few novels going "The hole would get bigger" is the title of one (its still all in my head) and "Bubblegum for a Hungry Heart", also unwritten to date. I've got some unexplored article headings about Facebook, and Chacha. Course, I could totally funnel my last trip into a book: if only I could SIT DOWN AND DO IT.

A ton of my energy goes into cleaning my little home. Sometimes the house looks clean, yet I can still find 2 or 4 good hours of work to be done. But it is only when everything around me is balanced and clean that I can focus on work. Is that bad?

I'm off to work for a few hours now. I hope it goes by fast and I make lots of mula!! Then I have dinner plans with Robert. (I think, he's being evasive). But I will be home in time for ATHF which has a new episode out tonight at 11:45.

and maybe some writing in there??? Probably not. Sob. And i have to get this video edited of the family trip!! AHHHHHHHHHHHH

So here's to the most boring laundry list of blogs ever made. I'm glad no one ever reads this anyways!!!

Jewels and Cameron at El Azteca last week
My new (thrift store) table for my living room. My tiled table and the harp.
Ze Garden!!!!

HAPPY SAINT PATS TO EVERYONE! It's a special holiday for me, as you may know, and i'm just looking forward to being Irish all day!!! Aye, tis a lovely breed to be. Everyone have fun and BE safe tommrrow!!!

One of my favorite scenes from any movie: Bladerunner...this is the final words of the character richard lugar

I've seen things you little people wouldn't believe... Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion bright as magnesium... I rode on the back decks of a blinker and watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tanhauser Gate. All those moments will be lost in time like tears in the rain...Time to die.

that movie is soo good.
Got ideas, so much updates to come!

OZ: Just a Very Strange Set of Co-Inky-Dinks

I had a strange OZ experience yesterday, come to think of it. So bear with me for another long banter. Worked day shift in the bar yesterday. Asked to work Night Bar Tables. Approaching my first table I immediately recognize the devilish good looking man...We'd met once before. It dawned on me in an absurd rush of newly made memory-which was placed in that slot (Will-Never-Need-To-Remember-Again)--that I'd just met this man on January 27 of this year.

I approached him as my recollection of his name surfaced in my mind..."Mr...f-f-FLANnery?" His name sort of manifested itself spontaneously on my tongue without me first consulting my Brain. He looked at me with Zero Rcognition in his eyes... At first.

I began to relate how we met. It was on a flight back to Atlanta from Chapel Hill. He was already seated in first class, and I was in, like, Zone 39...so I was like the 3rd to last soul to board. The other few Zone 39ners were lively folk, and we were all engaged conversationally from newly minted acquaintanceships due to the fact that we all had in common having been loaded on that damn plane last, so that surely there wouldn't be room for any of our bags in the overhead compartments, and as surely as it would be inconvenient, they would all be checked, and would we all then be charged $25 dollars a bag, which is the norm now, yes?

One of these jovial outspoken friendly folk pointed out to the Delta Associate scanning our tickets that a briefcase had been left in the concourse, and soon Mr. Flannery was summoned on the P.A.

We all were giggling and quipping between ourselves who or what the infamous bag-leaving Mr. Flannery would be. Then he showed up moving upstream against all the Zone 37ers, 38ers, and 39ers. He was majestically tall and well built, had a high brow, bold eyes, Irish jawline, Australian tan. He was dressed in an expensive suit and worldly-looking coat, and had the air of a 1920's banker or entrepreneur, appearing to be both a sophisticated gentleman and garrulous gambling trickster.

As he passed, well aware that WE all were aware that HE was the stupid sop from first class, who had just previously been so preoccupied with his cell phone conversation that he'd left his briefcase in the concourse-- we might not have individually joked about his situation outright him being an imposing, attractive, and powerful looking man. But since one or two of us had had a few cocktails in the concourse bar, and the rest of us Zone 39 stragglers we're naturally loquacious and smart-asses to boot-we all ganged up on poor Mr. Fannery who took it in stride.

On his way up the little tube (that connects the concourse to the airplane itself) we shook our heads at him, and I know I said "tsk tsk tsk Mr. Flannery")

Briefcase retrieved, he came loping down the tube thinggy again (do all Aussies "Lope?") and now his little First Class self was at the very back of the line, right on the threshold of the airplane hatch, just waiting for people ahead to be seated so we could finally board. I teased him "you must be Irish, by the sounds of your name Mr. Flannery" , then another 39er said "ooooh, that explains why you left your briefcase, ur drunk, as are all Irishmen all the time."

Mr. Flannery then went on to correct us, that he was indeed AustRAAAlian (he said it just like that), to which I suggested that THAT was the same thing, as they were nearly all descended from drunk, indebted, often Irish criminal-types.

He took the lighthearted teasing well, and I secretly wished he would want to talk to me more. But he sat in first class, and I sat somewhere between the wings and the Tuberculoses Ward in the back.

All of this, I just recounted to Mr. Flannery insomuch as some of the detail was left out. I told it in about 5 run-on sentences, and it dawned slowly on him who I was and how we met. He was flabbergasted that I remembered his name, and then shook his head at the coincidence that I should be serving him 6 weeks later. He introduced me to his wife (much to my chagrin...no not really, she's lovely(American), but he was just a peach!) I noted, in a mark that definitely counted against him, that he drank a stupid drink that made me seriously want to thwack him over the head...Sprite and Syrah over ice...what a nincompoop!

Anyhow, as if this story doesn't get MORE random and WEIRD, but right after we all establish how we met, I look across the bar and my only other Aussie Regular Guest is sitting at the counter. He is a smooth talking, highly attractive, debonair black man with a lilting Aussie accent. "Dan!" I come running over. "you won't believe it! Everything's gone Down Under today!" and I told him about Mr. Make Your Own Stupid Sangria and Leave Your Brief Case in the Terminal and Dan went right over and shook hands with him and struck up a conversation! All the Aussies were converging!!

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Yesterday morning, 8 hours before Mr. Flannery and Dan were to come into my bar nearly simultaneously, I was singing a song in my heart about Australia. I made up the words, though I've already forgotten the melody. It was about blue skies that stretched forever and ever, and blue eyes that would one day take my heart. And red dirt that met the sky and kissed it over all the horizons, and that one day I too would go there.

...and find a blue-eyed descendant of the Irish with an amorous accent...

Just because you Succeed Doesn't Mean u should Slack

...is the new motto I'm adopting.

This week has been a sordid affair. Quite. Coming into new terms at work. Some evolution positively but also some challenges. Bitched at least once to each boss that I wanted a high (and rightful) rank, even though I hardly work the floor. Now, ranked 12 of 3 score or more, it's time for me to step up. Start working doubles. Stuff the savings account.

And I wrote an article that's still in motion towards some wayward destiny in some such a publication as I-Don't-Know-What. Also released the latest Crofty Affair on Youtube which instigated somewhat frequent off-hand commentary from both co-workers and Regulars. (God, please) someone give me a euphemism for that word: I hate saying it "reg-u-lars"). hey! First feelings of being recognized without me bringing up what I do. I can thank Face Book for that.

So with being a generally productive week I still feel anxious that I'm not keeping all this in perfect balance. There is a challenge ahead to pick up shifts and even get another paying job to start funding A Great Journey (starring Lady Croft!). On the other hand writing must become a constant habit, not even a weekly thing but a daily thing. I know I'm capable of producing a lot of material on many subjects, keeping several research projects going at once, while still hanging in my PJ's all day while the budgies fly around, drinking millions of cups of tea if I want to, while playing the harp between computer screen eyeball meltdowns and writers block. It lets me lead a life where I ask questions all day and find answers in a restful sanctuary of my creation.

Plus, there's always a chance I'll get a writing gig. Always a chance.

So I'm in a good place yes? I feel like this stability has to have some catch to it, surely!? But no, each day I get up feeling pretty good. Ready to work when at work, and ready to follow my inclinations at home. But a Reg-u-luuur at work got me thinking last week.

He sat at the end of my bar as a slow day shift winded down and watched me get slammed right before my relief came in. I was cheerful but especially so because this Reg-u-luuur is right there at the top of the Favorites List. And he asks me, in his unbelievably enchanting accent, if I am ever sad and that I can't possibly be this happy all the time. Then he proceeds to ruminate on on what I must look like when I'm upset or angry.

Was is true when I told him I rarely show emotions such as these?

He goes on to insist, lengthening his vowels so as to sound both astute and marginally flirtatious that "you can't be like this all the time, you must get solemn and serious too." And I've been thinking about that conversation ever since.

During the quiet moments this week I give my brain a chance to sort through the Daily Stimulus Package that is Reality.

Sleep is often slow in coming. I lie awake for ages decompressing all the input or anxiously going over The Plan. Whenever I let myself sit quietly without a book or something to do my mind usually rests on my deepest concerns. And these, are quite often deadly serious things.

Sunday morning, for example. A "serious moment" occurred while driving through Midtown at dawn with the music off and the windows down while a mist gnawed on the tops of the skyscrapers and the only specters on the eeirly deserted streets were the homeless stirring with ever-hungry stomachs. Yeah, thats how serious it gets.

Or how about this? The other night, after heaps of time assessing (obsessing) over numerous personal matters and anxiously going over the next few days schedules, I found myself crying. I don't cry very much when sappy movies aren't involved. I felt a deadly serious ache prevail over all other senses and all I could think of was how wretched it was that I have spent so little time with my grandparents. I sobbed to think of them wishing they could see me more, the only being that carries on their seed. I grow sad and serious thinking of it now.

Go Figure.

At work, I enjoy being positive and upbeat, and take it as a challenge to uphold that veneer even when I feel bad inside. Being unflappably friendly and unerringly kind becomes a kind of power to wield over others, in my opinion. But optimism, cheerfulness, and hope aside, there is a time also for the "unemotions"- the feelings that don't move, and aren't moving anywhere. The ones that linger in shadow places of the heart and whose echoes are heard enduringly inside the skull.

I know we all have these. I'm going to be brave and talk about it, but I know that every one has regrets-a darkside, if you will. I guess my reg-ul-uuur just had to reassure himself of that handy little piece of wisdom I just gave ya. I must have pulled off a pretty convincing I'm-just-always-this-happy-act" But he was right.

I think I find the balance between my bright side, and what I suppose we'll call "my dark side" the same way I balance what I don't like doing and what I like doing, namely working and writing. Patience.

I'm not sure the source of the wellspring, but I believe its calming waters help keep things in perspective. Patience allows me to face work each day with zeal for a goal more than two years away. Patience let's me ride out bad tips, incompetent people, and long days on the feet. Patience tells me that waiting for true love is worth it and this wards off heart-sickness and loneliness. She assures me also that some children never grow up, and that many adults are frustrated, stunted children; if I am patient with them, and show them love it could help them a little little bit. Patience says to me that worry is wasteful, and this I live by.

When is the next Croft Masterpiece coming out, you ask??? PATIENCE PATIENCE my dears!!! All in due time!

Cheers to those who have helped me so much in my writings, and to those that inspired this entry. (u know who u are!!)

Cwoft

Snow day? only for Snowmen!

Woah!

No one thought the snow would come precisely because it was forecasted. It's as if the very prediction of snow was doomed, only it actually did snow. All day in fact. Big, fat, fluffy snowflakes. Loads of them falling down clinging together, falling oh-so-much-lighter than water.

It hailed pencil points that tik-tiked on my windshield on my way to work, and then, while i squeezed orange juice for mimosas and doled out ribs and steaks, Atlanta was inundated with cold water molecules with white parashuts . (spell check refuses to spell that corrected and I have refused go on trying!) In an hour my car was under an inch, nearly 2 when my shift ended a couple hours later.

Atlanta was confused. Atlanta babbled about it all day, notably mouth full of grilled chicken salad and Hawaiian rib eye. Snippets of conversations about snow could be picked up during any particular circulation of the dining room. We twittered. We took photos. Some build snowmen, which will be the sole survivors of the parashut brigades. There is one at the intersection of Freedom Parkway and North Avenue. Built perhaps by initially-flabbergasted then voraciously over-zealous kids or unusually giddy homeless people. It's little stick nose comes out at an angle.

Today the sun bore down and quickly melted any snow not protected by the shade. Thousands of Atlanteans called a snow day, while by 10 am all the ice had melted off their driveways. By Noon, the interstate looked normal, except for the odd car that would pass you covered in 3 inches of snow, slags of snow flying off the hood. One car I followed for a while had a shoe-box sized blob of slow at the bottom of his rear windshield. At each curve of the highway it would oscillate back and forth like a bubble in a leveller tool. I kept going "oooh ooh! it's going to fall off!!" I decided after a time it was no longer safe driving behind this woman who didn't bother to remove any of the 30 lbs or so of snow that covered her car.

Went for a remarkable hike that was followed by lots and lots of cake. And kir royals and salzburg coffee!! Oh when will I learn!?!?

Feeling particularly good and free.

Croftee---------------->

All icecycles and crunchy ground and squidggyness. Stunning day!