It's a busy day here at Casa De Tee Tots Tyson.
Not only am I watching terrible television, but I have chili to make. Yam and black bean. It's pretty much one of the most amazing meals you will ever taste. The recipe I use is found on Cookie + Kate. I alter it only a little bit by putting extra yam and adding spices to best suit my refined palate.
To top it off, I am knitting a birthday present for a very special girl. I'd detail it all here, but I can't, because she's on my Facebook. Granted, I am sure she doesn't read my blog that often, there's a chance she might read this one. And since I don't take chances. Never.
I think it's going to be really cool, though.
Added into all this the fact that I can't sleep at night. I got a cold. And I am pretty sure my butt is getting bigger by the minute. And I am worried about moving and selling and property and mortgages and financing and credit scores.
It feels overwhelming.
How do people make it through stressful times?
They just keep swimming.
And so, I swim. Thank you, sweet Gods, for giving me the ability to endure.
Hey, you know what? I don't think I've ever actually seen Finding Nemo!
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Showing posts with label birthday. Show all posts
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Master of Macabre
Today is Edgar Allan Poe's birthday. As some of you may know, I believe in celebrating births, especially of creatures so near and dear to my heart.
This writer of the weird. Maker of mystery. Master of the Macabre. Well, he's a special sort of somebody.
In a world where there are two sorts of people, those trying to fit in and those trying to stand out, we often forget the forefathers of going against the grain. Born in 1809, one must admit, this gentleman is truly one of a kind. Though his work is saturated with loss, forlorn hearts, and a darkness not even a floodlight could dissipate, he himself is deeply loved by many. And, despite the attempts of his rival Rufus Wilmot Griswold who worked diligently to ruin Poe's reputation after he died, Edgar remains one of the most shared and celebrated poets of all time.
Even his signature is a delight:
I could certainly detail out his life here. His stint in the military. His marriage to thirteen year old Virginia, who happened to be his cousin. His interest in cryptography. But you can read all about it in several books. Here, today, I will simply say, he is by far one of my most favourite people to have ever roamed this earth.
Aren't we lucky to be able to indulge in his legacy of poems and stories?
There is beauty in the darkness. Beauty in the oddities. A simple beauty in the macabre. The morbid. The grim. The ghastly.
And those who can show you that beauty, like Poe, are truly artists. Wielders of the Weird. Servants of the Strange.
They inspire me.
This writer of the weird. Maker of mystery. Master of the Macabre. Well, he's a special sort of somebody.
In a world where there are two sorts of people, those trying to fit in and those trying to stand out, we often forget the forefathers of going against the grain. Born in 1809, one must admit, this gentleman is truly one of a kind. Though his work is saturated with loss, forlorn hearts, and a darkness not even a floodlight could dissipate, he himself is deeply loved by many. And, despite the attempts of his rival Rufus Wilmot Griswold who worked diligently to ruin Poe's reputation after he died, Edgar remains one of the most shared and celebrated poets of all time.
Even his signature is a delight:
I could certainly detail out his life here. His stint in the military. His marriage to thirteen year old Virginia, who happened to be his cousin. His interest in cryptography. But you can read all about it in several books. Here, today, I will simply say, he is by far one of my most favourite people to have ever roamed this earth.
Aren't we lucky to be able to indulge in his legacy of poems and stories?
There is beauty in the darkness. Beauty in the oddities. A simple beauty in the macabre. The morbid. The grim. The ghastly.
And those who can show you that beauty, like Poe, are truly artists. Wielders of the Weird. Servants of the Strange.
They inspire me.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Unstoked
It seems like it's been forever since I wrote a post here, when in reality it's only been eight days. I guess I needed a break. To order my thoughts, perhaps. Or maybe life seems a bit unimpressive and I've tried to keep that to myself. For a number of reasons, really. I don't want to drag other people down. And there's no sense moaning about life when it could be so much worse.
I got my health. A roof over my head. Food in my belly. Clothes on my back. Friends and family, though slightly behind me and to the left, they are still there. And cute boys. I have all of these things.
So, why am I feeling so disenchanted?
Well, the daily job is a bummer. It doesn't matter that I'm a firm believer my 9-5 does not define me. I mean, I know it isn't who I am, but it still irks me that it's where I am. Sure, it helps pay some of my bills. But not all of them. Money is constantly hanging over my head. I hate the feeling of doing things simply for the green. They say money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure could make the giant axe wielded by bill collectors seem less sharp. The home I live in. Yeah, it's nice enough, but buying a place seems to have put some restrictions on my future. And maybe that was a silly thing for me to do. I miss my cat.
But above everything else?
My birthday is at the end of the month.
It's a big one. A nice round numbered one. And one that has me feeling unaccomplished. Displaced. Stuck.
Most people reflect on their lives around New Year's day, when they are trying to better themselves, but birthdays are when I really get thinking. Is this it for me? Am I where I'll be for the next five or ten years? Is the dissatisfaction warranted? Or am I just acting foolish? Maybe everyone feels this way every now and again.
It still doesn't change the fact that I want to overhaul everything. Shake things up. And stop watching my life pass me by. Honestly, I don't know where I'll be in a year, and I am fully aware fretting and toiling over these things are useless. There's no guarantee on tomorrow, but today just seems unsatisfying, and it's barely started.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not always like this, but for some reason, I am supremely unstoked lately. Not even the promise of birthday cake on the horizon can rectify that.
And that's another thing. Why are birthdays so disappointing for me? I don't know if I've ever had an amazing one. On one hand, I don't want to be alone, but on the other I don't want to plan something for myself. Guess I'm just lazy. And I suspect that's the culprit of most of my issues these days. Laziness.
Maybe this is what they mean when they talk about the birthday blues.
I got my health. A roof over my head. Food in my belly. Clothes on my back. Friends and family, though slightly behind me and to the left, they are still there. And cute boys. I have all of these things.
So, why am I feeling so disenchanted?
Well, the daily job is a bummer. It doesn't matter that I'm a firm believer my 9-5 does not define me. I mean, I know it isn't who I am, but it still irks me that it's where I am. Sure, it helps pay some of my bills. But not all of them. Money is constantly hanging over my head. I hate the feeling of doing things simply for the green. They say money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure could make the giant axe wielded by bill collectors seem less sharp. The home I live in. Yeah, it's nice enough, but buying a place seems to have put some restrictions on my future. And maybe that was a silly thing for me to do. I miss my cat.
But above everything else?
My birthday is at the end of the month.
It's a big one. A nice round numbered one. And one that has me feeling unaccomplished. Displaced. Stuck.
Most people reflect on their lives around New Year's day, when they are trying to better themselves, but birthdays are when I really get thinking. Is this it for me? Am I where I'll be for the next five or ten years? Is the dissatisfaction warranted? Or am I just acting foolish? Maybe everyone feels this way every now and again.
It still doesn't change the fact that I want to overhaul everything. Shake things up. And stop watching my life pass me by. Honestly, I don't know where I'll be in a year, and I am fully aware fretting and toiling over these things are useless. There's no guarantee on tomorrow, but today just seems unsatisfying, and it's barely started.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not always like this, but for some reason, I am supremely unstoked lately. Not even the promise of birthday cake on the horizon can rectify that.
And that's another thing. Why are birthdays so disappointing for me? I don't know if I've ever had an amazing one. On one hand, I don't want to be alone, but on the other I don't want to plan something for myself. Guess I'm just lazy. And I suspect that's the culprit of most of my issues these days. Laziness.
Maybe this is what they mean when they talk about the birthday blues.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Y Is For Youth
It's not true that Halloween is for youngsters.
At the end of the day, while kids do adore the costumes and candy, I think the holiday is embraced by adults more than our munchkin counterparts. Yes, I did just refer to myself as an adult. And, if you were wondering, it did feel weird.
Why is this?
Because Halloween allows for adults to act like children. We get to dress up, hangout with our friends, eat candy and freak ourselves out. It's okay to be afraid. To scream. Hide our faces in the pillow. Sit in the middle of the floor surrounded by a mountain of candy wrappers and play with a Oujia board.
It's the only Holiday, that isn't really a holiday, and it makes us feel young again. It isn't financially draining like Christmas. Or reflective like New years. Or depressing like Remembrance Day. Or riddled with expectations like Valentine's Day. And, unlike our birthdays, it promotes feeling young.
It's the one day of the year where it is all about fun. Oh, and it's the only day of the year where you're encouraged to scare children. Your own. Others. It doesn't matter. Your job is to freak out kids. Especially teenagers.
Not to mention, there are things the kids can't do, so it actually pays to be older on Halloween. No, I'm not talking about drinking games or trampy costumes. (Don't even get me started on my sexy kitten, cop, or nurse rant) I'm thinking about scary movies that are 18A. Haunted houses with age restrictions. Rides where you have to be a certain height. Themed bars and night clubs. Buying fireworks. The uncensored versions of ghost stories. Eating a whole pumpkin pie and not answering to anyone but yourself.
See, there are advantages to being old. Even though it might not feel like it most of the year.
This year, I don't have massive plans for Halloween. I plan on handing out candy and watching John Carpenter's Halloween. Yes, this is low key, but I can't think of anything I want to do more. Seeing the kids all dressed up. Giving handfuls of candy to five-year-olds. Listening to firecrackers being set off. Curled up with a scary movie. The smell of burnt pumpkin and rain-soaked pavement. The wind howling.
Sounds perfect to me.
What are your plans?
(And can you believe tomorrow is 'Z'?)
At the end of the day, while kids do adore the costumes and candy, I think the holiday is embraced by adults more than our munchkin counterparts. Yes, I did just refer to myself as an adult. And, if you were wondering, it did feel weird.
Why is this?
Because Halloween allows for adults to act like children. We get to dress up, hangout with our friends, eat candy and freak ourselves out. It's okay to be afraid. To scream. Hide our faces in the pillow. Sit in the middle of the floor surrounded by a mountain of candy wrappers and play with a Oujia board.
It's the only Holiday, that isn't really a holiday, and it makes us feel young again. It isn't financially draining like Christmas. Or reflective like New years. Or depressing like Remembrance Day. Or riddled with expectations like Valentine's Day. And, unlike our birthdays, it promotes feeling young.
It's the one day of the year where it is all about fun. Oh, and it's the only day of the year where you're encouraged to scare children. Your own. Others. It doesn't matter. Your job is to freak out kids. Especially teenagers.
Not to mention, there are things the kids can't do, so it actually pays to be older on Halloween. No, I'm not talking about drinking games or trampy costumes. (Don't even get me started on my sexy kitten, cop, or nurse rant) I'm thinking about scary movies that are 18A. Haunted houses with age restrictions. Rides where you have to be a certain height. Themed bars and night clubs. Buying fireworks. The uncensored versions of ghost stories. Eating a whole pumpkin pie and not answering to anyone but yourself.
See, there are advantages to being old. Even though it might not feel like it most of the year.
This year, I don't have massive plans for Halloween. I plan on handing out candy and watching John Carpenter's Halloween. Yes, this is low key, but I can't think of anything I want to do more. Seeing the kids all dressed up. Giving handfuls of candy to five-year-olds. Listening to firecrackers being set off. Curled up with a scary movie. The smell of burnt pumpkin and rain-soaked pavement. The wind howling.
Sounds perfect to me.
What are your plans?
(And can you believe tomorrow is 'Z'?)
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