I N T H E N I G H T K I T C H E N
It's a pretty nice day outside. The grey clouds have lifted a bit. It rained
pretty much all week in various degrees. Portland is in the throes of fall.
I'm looking forward to winter a bit more than I was last year. I don't know
why.
Got a bit of a headache this morning. Stayed up late drinking beers with a
handful of my girlfriends. It was poker night in the kitchen last night. I
had a little bit of a hissy-fit earlier in the day when it sounded like a
few people were canceling at the last minute. So, I sent out an obnoxious
email and guilted at least one person into coming. I was just going to spit
nails if I didn't have enough people for a good poker game.
As it turned out, we had a perfect number of people, lots of good munchies
and a number of great rounds of betting. There was one mondo pot of the
evening and also some really stellar hands. I was impressed. My killer hand
of the night was a straight 10, Jack, Queen, King, Ace. I think by the end
of the night, I was up a whopping sixty-five cents.
Everyone agreed that we needed to do this again and I volunteered someone
else host the next one. I really liked having everyone here and I'd do it
again if it were a spontaneous thing. We'll see. Overall, it was a blast.
Now I'm off to see
Chicken Run at the $2 theatre.
12:32 PM link
. . . . . . .
It's early for me. Slept in the buff last night. Woke with my shoulders and neck freezing. Rain was pitter-pattering down in drops so fat you could hear their weight. Very dark. I burrowed under the covers and was instantly warmer.
The alarm went off at six and was, naturally, snoozed. Went off again and was snoozed once more. But, I couldn't go back to sleep. In fact, I felt energized by the quiet and the darkness. Put on some coffee. Stumbled around for sweatpants and sweatshirt. Turned on the computer and opened the front window blinds fully.
The sky is warming up a little bit... it's gone from a tinge of warmth in the blackness to a tinge of red to a tinge of purple. Where the river is looks blacker than the sky.
Cars are blinking across the bridge, both to and from the city. Everytime I look up, the eastside hills seem to have a few more lights on. I can hear a clock ticking.
Sounds like T. is stirring. Last night, we went to a work outing with his new company. We went to a bar and had pizza and played pool. I didn't meet too many of his coworkers but it was fun anyway. His new job at SpeedMouse (not the real name) seems to be starting off okay. At least he has work to do.
I'm still sans-project but feeling less antsy about it. Which, I think, is a bad thing. All this sloth isn't preparing me to get going full guns as soon as the stuff hits. I'm afraid I'll freak. I may freak. When I freak, you'll hear about it. I'm pre-freak freaking.
. . .
The sky is now a wispy shade of cobalt. All the foreground is dark, dark green. Sometimes the rain is good.
7:14 AM link
. . . . . . .
Ahhh... stark white with black text. I dig it the most. Do you? The font may need a little tweaking but this is good. I fully intended to go sans design here. But, like all good intentions it started to go horribly awry with a black background, a content-bounding shape and then (oh, stop me!) a homemade font for the title which then became tweaked to a point where I almost liked it... if only I had a little bit more here and a little there then... AGGGHH -- Design!! Back into your cage you design-beast! Back! Back, I say!
You get the idea.
This space left intentionally undesigned.
It's all about the content.
Okay, not really. It's all about a catalog of days and less identification. If you are here, you can find out who I am. If I sent you this link then you know who I am. I just... need to be able to write freely about what I do, the people in my life and things which affect me. No, it's not suddenly going to become a tell-all, whiny, masturbatory narcissm-fest of epic proportions but possibly it'll be a little more real.
Heh. I said masturbatory. That would have never happened at "Rainy Day."
Don't get me wrong. "Rainy" was as real as it was ever going to get. Nothing was fabricated but plenty was left out. I never wrote about my job. I seldom wrote about the people in my life. I never wrote about anything that I didn't want my parents to read. Or my boss. Or my husband. Which, frankly, was bumming me out.
I want a collection of stories to look back on; to remind me. I want to record this portion of my life... maybe someday it'll be important.
I don't want everybody to read this. Is that possible? How secure is this? Not very. I'm trying not to think about it.
The non-design? The "blog" thing? I'm resistant to both. However, I also needed to stop using the journal as a procrastination tool. I needed to stop thinking about it so much. I needed a simple journal entry to
not be such a production. I needed to be able to write. Simply. Plainly. Purposefully.
The purpose? It has defined itself. This journal is about me.
10:10 PM link
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