Showing posts with label apartment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label apartment. Show all posts

Friday, October 21, 2011

the screaming children will not win

I am so very ready for the sickness to be over (down with the sickness?). It's at the embarrassing leaking stage now where snot explodes down the nose while both eyes (or, more often, one solitary eye) tear up and a single cough could send my whole face sideways. All of this happening at the most inconvenient time every time, like when I'm pouring water for a customer or about to hover over someone else's food. I was at Fred Meyer buying stuff that also included leg warmers and enough tea to float boats (many many boats) and the cashier said, "Sounds like you're sick."

"It's evolving," I said.

"Ahhh," he said, "it will last two more weeks."

"Don't tell me that."

"I'm just preparing you."

Thus spake the prophet Isaiah unto the children of Israel in the days of the
tribulation.

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Also, I weary of my computer but am not even sure where to begin with replacing it. Did some cursory research yesterday and ended up on the National Park Service page for someplace called Buffalo Lake. I think. Or was it River? A nationally significant space of water.

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Only a four-hour shift today. But caution, my love. Last time I got excited about a short and easy Friday I ended up staying on a second shift and working very late and what with my early early morning at the coffee shop tomorrow... no good, no good.

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The apartment is ridiculous (and dogless, but let's not reopen that wound). I've been in it almost a month and it still looks more like a hobo encampment than a place I've lived in for... almost a month. The living room is presentable and put together. Half the kitchen is still in boxes, though, and the study is more of a study in despair than anything else and I need to clean the fish tank so the inherited fish won't die.

And speaking of dogless. I'm launching Plan Don't Let Baby-the-Pound-Dog Die Part 2 where I go to the church council and petition them in person and question how they could possibly worry about a barking dog in my apartment when they have forty million screaming children running loose below me who begin screaming at 6:45 a.m. and don't stop until 6 p.m.

Thursday, February 4, 2010

experiments in substance abuse

...That was just for shock value, but I do blame coffee for the current twitch in my left eye. I should probably drink more water. My hairs are all dry and my skin is unhappy. While I enjoy being so AWARE of what my body needs, it can be annoying. It's like dealing with a small child: Be quiet, body, go away and entertain yourself for a while. I'm busy.

The body is one big warped mass of needs. Needs to be fed. Needs to be watered. Needs to feel love. Needs to move. Needs to rest. Needs to be cleaned. Needs to be clothed. Needs new clothes when the old ones wear out because neither Oregon society nor Oregon weather allow it to run around naked. Alas.

I think I've whittled my body down to the barest of outward needs beyond the obvious food, water, shelter. I don't require many products or an abundance of coverings. I keep hygiene simple and efficient and don't wear makeup. I've figured out methods of staying warm: the layering of key pieces of clothing, strategic hot showers, abundance of tea. I make it walk. I make it sleep. I put it through yoga. No athletic centers or, goodness, workouts (gross). Eye drops=life and are also only about $2 and not difficult to administer. So, yes, I'm very sinfully proud of all of this. And yet, the body needs and never stops. Thanks, body.

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Ummmm. I made this last night:



It's part of an art project a friend and I are doing. The prompt is ____scapes. We're in the experiment and sketch stages right now, but we have been so mature and diligent and have given ourselves a deadline. At the end of the month we are to present at least one finished piece to each other. Fun fun.

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In the newspaper world, I had a cover story today.

You can READ IT HERE. There's even a slideshow of Alex's photos accompanying it. You know, multimedia. Look down in the "A mixed history" section of the story. There's a slideshow box to the left.

This was a massive story. 32 some inches, I think, when it was done. I doubt it needed to be. Actually I know it didn't need to be that long because this afternoon I had to do the radio version of it and I cut it down to about a third of its original length. Of course, though, the radio version couldn't include those racy details like how a former owner ruined the plumbing when he set up a special irrigation system for his pot farm.

One thing I learned, or rather, was reminded of, was that I fail at radio.

You have to be even more direct than in news writing and you have to be peppy with your verbs and have an interesting voice. I read like a tomb. It would be better if I could go full out snark, but it's still a traditional newspaper (not a crazy liberal weekly) and I can't do that.

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Whilst typing up notes from an interview I did yesterday, I remembered I wanted to write about my reportly experiences from yesterday. Mostly The two big meetings/interviews of the day where, completely unprovoked by my (undeniable) ignorance, the two separate people I talked with went out of their way to draw diagrams and maps and color-coded pictures while they explained things. Maybe they could sense that afternoon is not my time and I needed all the help available, or maybe they are both overly visual. It was so exciting. Among my notes I now possess a color-coded flow chart of the justice system in someone else's lovely cursivey handwriting. Such is the happy world I live in.

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The apartment is horrifying, but the bathroom is clean. I'm breaking even. But, no, I really need to tidy things up and wash the dishes. Even though I don't generate many dirty dishes in a day, one dirty plate and cup and pan tie up all the available counter and sink space and make any meal preparation difficult and dangerous.

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I've been here a month. Crazy.