sleep

i am up at five in the morning watching cartoons on nickelodeon because i am not able to force myself into slumber. the dog is snoring, the house is quiet, the sun won't be up for two hours.
i'm very much alone.

bohunk

i am a northern european mutt. part irish, part scottish, part welsh, part german, part norwegian, part swedish, part polish, part austrian, part bohemian. so, really, gaelic, celtic, nordic, slavic, and saxon- which about covers the northern european tribal units. this mutt-ness comes in handy, when i am in europe, because i don't look american. i lack the open face and the wide set eyes and the bland nose that generations of homogenization have created in certain parts of america- the 'California' look. it's interesting, because my father looks very american- very much like the boy scout he is. but my mother looks like she's related to brigid, so i suppose i get it from her. anyhow, the point of telling you all of this is that i find it amusing that i can legitimately call myself a bohemian. and even the bohemians, now the czech, would agree.
just don't call me moravian.

two of the reasons i've been neglecting this

are the following:





(i apologize for the shitty quality on these, YouTube doesn't allow for high quality videos, sadly.)

i've actually finished something. two things. they're done. they have sound. they're completely finished. hurrah.

the shiny golden men

i've seen all of the best picture oscar nominees now. i can honestly say that for the first time, i actually like them all. i cannot comprehend, however, the placement of juno and atonement in such august company. both are sweet and have their charms. but next to the other three, there will be blood and no country for old men and michael clayton, they are soft and forgettable. michael clayton, however, is the worst and most pleasurable case of cinematic blue balls i've ever experienced. the tension builds and builds and then does not release. it pretends to release, but the buildup simply continues. anyhow, it's quite good.

happy birthday to me

i got four cacti.

sinking

i am submerged and cannot surface. i do not want to leave the world which was created for me. it was created for me and none other.

lower

i have a peculiar bit of body dysmorphia lately that makes me think i am much larger than i am. i can't seem to recognize that clothes don't fit me, at least not without a concerted effort to see it. i bought new jeans last week that seemed to fit me fine in the store, but now that i have them home i realize they are at least a size too large. they're comfortable, and it's not as though they are so large they will fall off, but they are clearly not my fit. the pants that i wear for work, i think, fit me fine. but i know that they, also, are at least two sizes too large. i can take them off easily without unbuttoning them. i have, without any particular effort, lost 25 lbs. in the last two years. at one point i had lost more than that, but i was far too thin and have worked to put a bit of weight back on. and yet i am still wearing the same size pants. delusional. i pulled on my ski pants, which i had not worn in two years, and they were so large i could tuck my heavy winter coat into them. everything fits better, and everything is easier to do. i can run for more than a block, which in the past would've killed me. i walk miles at a time. i can pull off yoga poses that i never would've managed before. i know, on some level, that i am in much better shape than i have ever been. and yet intuitively i am still a considerably less healthy me.