tavie.com

Sleep log again.

I get so damn TIRED of lying here with my eyes screwed shut trying to think of sleepy things. I can only do that so many nights in a row. The other night, I was doing that for an hour, just tossing around not sleeping and stuck in that awful zone, and after a full hour of that I grabbed my pillow and went and flopped down on the couch for the change of scene. You know when your bed just becomes intolerable because you've been lying there for so long trying to sleep in it? So I got like four hours on the couch, and then went back to my cold bed and got another hour or so before my alarm went off.

Tonight after 15 minutes of the flippity-flop I gave up and went online to order groceries.

My brain hurrrrrrrrrrts. I just don't know what to think about that will shut my brain off.

And lately, I wake up every single night now at 4, or 5, or 6 in the morning, too, and then go back to sleep until 8:10 or :15. Which is the last possible second I can be in bed and still get to the bus on time.

If only I could be awake when my body wanted to and go to bed when my body wanted to. If I could read until 2 in the morning and wake up for work at 10 or 11, I'd be so much happier. But if I had to leave work at 8 or 9 every night, I'd be unhappy, too.

Why don't I just roll over and die already.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:59 AM | shower me with attention

Tuesday, February 14, 2006

I know you're reading this, Work Guy... I don't mind, it's public, but you don't have to pretend like you "heard around" this or you "heard around" that about me... I know where you got it from.

Now, Valentine's Day: fuck Valentine's Day. I bought candy for my roommates, and, in an attempt to get back OFF the pizza-and-cookies track that I've been sauntering down lately, a sugar-free Whitman's (fart chocolate!) Sampler for myself.

Mmmmmmm. Fart chocolate.*

*Chocolate containing sugar alcohols, which are usually undigestible and occasionally cause the eater gastrointestinal... activity. Not every time, but often enough for the world to be grateful that I have my own room!

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:30 PM | shower me with attention

Monday, February 13, 2006

[Matthew Broderick voice] What an enohhhhmous blizzahd! What an enohhhmous blizzahd! [/Matthew Broderick voice]

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:21 PM | shower me with attention

My shuttle to the PATH never showed up this morning.

Not only that, but the streets were barely shoveled.

Not only that, but my boots had finally died, a few weeks ago, after 7 years of service.

All of that equalled cold, wet feet this morning.

This is why I love Payless. I'm sorry, I do. I would like to be able to afford nice, fancy shoes, but as long as I can't, I love love love cheap-ass shoes. I went to Payless today and found boots that weren't completely horrible, in my size, but just a wee bit more than I wanted to spend at the moment. (Even at Payless. Hey, cheap shoes should be che-e-e-e-eap or else I'll go to a real shoestore.)

Then I found the exact same boots, one size larger, in white. For ten dollars.

That's right: Payless says that if you're willing to wear shoes that are slightly too big and in a tackier colour, then you can have them for a quarter of the price.

These are my new cheezy warm comfy boots. Thank you, Payless! (Yes, those are pom-poms. They're a mockery of those stupid moccasin-boots that everyone was wearing two years ago.)

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:09 PM | shower me with attention

Sunday, February 12, 2006

Aw dammit. Craig Northey is finally doing a show in NYC -- opening for the (yawn) Rembrandts-- and I'm too poor to go see it. Fate is cruel. I mean, I made my choice and I stick by it (those KITH tickets are worth everything) but, man, it's so rarely that I'm enthusiastic about a live musical performance.

Ah, well, maybe there will be a next time. Or maybe I'll stop spending my money on stupid things like rent and food and plane tickets.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:10 PM | shower me with attention

So there's a "heavy golden locket" amongst Sirius's things... "that no one could open". And Sirius's brother was Regulus... Black. Who lived in the house. Where Sirius's things were. One of which was a heavy golden locket that no one could open.

Oh, I know who R.A.B. is!

How many are left now?

The diary (check)
The cup (?)
The locket (check)
The ring (check)
The snake (?)
The ...? (Something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's?)

Not Harry, though. Harry can't be a Horcrux because Voldy tried to murder him in the graveyard, and Voldy would never try to destroy a piece of his own soul. So now I'm up on all the important current theories, I think.

This is the sort of thing I like to spend my time thinking about, thank you.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:09 PM | shower me with attention

Snow day snow day no place to go day! I love it.

I posted some pictures of the blizzard from our windows. There's also a shot of the pastel lion Mike painted for Gina for Christmas, which we finally hung up today, and a print that I made from that woodblock-print class that I dug up at home over the weekend and decided to hang in our apartment. I also whipped out the charcoals again for the first (well, second) time in about two years.

Something broke I think, some block-- I don't want to jinx it so I'll say no more. I found a picture that Andrew collaborated with me on a couple years ago when I was feeling similarly uninspired, and to break me out of it he sat with me and described a scene which I attempted to draw. The best of these was a huge sketch of Odin, which I came across while I was at my parents' house on Saturday morning. I should spray-set it and give it to him, but I don't know what he would do with it, it's too big to put anywhere.

Why are you in Tavie's head? 8:13 PM | shower me with attention