Diving into the deepest depths of my soul

You're One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest!
by Ken Kesey

You're crazy. This has led people to attempt to confine you to a safe place so that you don't pose a danger to yourself or others. You feel like you pose a great danger to the man (or maybe the woman) or whatever else is keeping you down. But most of the time, you just end up being observed. Were you crazy before you were confined?

Take the Book Quiz at the Blue Pyramid.

You Should Be a Joke Writer

You're totally hilarious, and you can find the humor in any situation. Whether you're spouting off zingers, comebacks, or jokes about life, you usually can keep a crowd laughing, and you have plenty of material. You have the makings of a great comedian - or comedic writer.

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

You are Cheesecake

Rich, sweet, and simply perfect. You're not boring - you're just the best!

What Dessert are You?

My worst fear

One day I think I'd like to have children. But it occured to me today that if I have children, there is a fifty percent chance I will have a daughter. And if I have a daughter, chances are pretty good that she will like purple. Because little girls like purple. Little girls adore purple. Little girls want to wrap up in purple blankets and drift off to sleep wearing purple pajamas with their little girl heads on purple pillows under purple canopies with pictures of purple-haired unicorns on the purple walls illuminated by the purple glow of their purple nightlights.

I believe the chances of this happening are very good, because there is no traceable amount of purple in my house. Anywhere. So when Little Girl of Mine goes out into the world, she will discover purple and all of its manifestations and go, "Ooohh, that's different!" and she will want to bring the purple into her bedroom, which will be in my house, which I will be living in, which means I will see the purple on a daily basis. Drinking, drugs, sex, criminal activity: all things I can deal with. But PURPLE?!? *Shudder*

Can't stop the Wrock

My latest iTunes obsession is a little music movement that sprang up in/around 2002 out of the Harry Potter fanomenon, called Wizard Rock. Some of what I've heard so far is actually pretty enjoyable music-wise, but what I *really* like is the lyrical cleverness. J'adore cleverness.

So after this quick and dirty introduction to world of Wizard Rock, I've decided it might be fun to be in a Wizard Rock band of my own. I can write and sing a little, so all I really need now is a drummer, guitarist, pianist, tambourinist (Jen A?!?!?!!) and whatever other instrument players a band might have (who can also sing a little), like maybe a trumpeteer, harpist, violinist, basoonist, sousaphonist...you know, the basics.

Meanwhile, I've been trying to come up with a list of potential monikers (in no particular order) and song titles, the best of which are listed below for your non-musical enjoyment.

Wizard Rock band names:
Alohomora
Confundus Charm
Finite Incantatem
Mischief Managed!
Permanent Sticking Charm

Song titles (some are inspired by real songs, others are just made up):

1. Ain't No Mountain Troll Mean Enough
2. Drive My Flying Ford Anglia
3. Getting Whomped by the Willow*
4. Like a Horntail
5. Snape Murdered Dumbledore (But He Did Not Murder Harry P.)
6. Down by the Black Lake
7. Unsplinch My Heart
8. I Heard it Through the Extendable Ears
9. Hermy Hermy
10. Shrieking Shack*
11. What's Snape Got to Do With It?
12. Seek Her, Chase Her, Keep Her
13. WTF?! (Lupin's Dead but Harry's Not)
14. Da Doo Ron Ron (When He Apparated Me Home)
15. Long Scarlet Train
16. Expelliarmus, Biotch
17. VoldyBack
18. All is Well

*thanks Jen A!

Happy Valentine's Day

Me and my X

I did not vote today. I was not allowed to participate in the Maryland primaries because I am not affiliated with a political party. But I did fully realize my supreme love of voting. Voting is exciting business. I love to vote. I wear my "I voted!" sticker for days. Power. Control. The fate of the nation--the ENTIRE COURSE OF HISTORY--rests (in part) with me and my X.

So it was troubling today, the powerlessness I felt, as I stood by in our local voting center and watched enviously as Keith voted. We spent the last few days researching and watching speeches and debates together, trying to decide which candidate he should vote for. But in that moment, the decision was out of my hands. My opinion, my choice, no longer mattered. It was up to Keith, as he remained undecided up until the point where he finally chose a candidate--or none. I dare not ask. I find voting a deeply personal experience, and for me, asking one for whom he or she voted is akin to asking how much money one makes in a year or what color underwear one is wearing. If you choose to share your candidate of choice with me, fine. But I won't ask and I probably won't volunteer the same information about myself, because frankly it's none of your damn business, even if we voted the same. And besides, finding out that a close friend voted for the candidate who stands against your most passionate beliefs--however open-minded we all might be--inevitably brings a little fog of awkwardness that whispers in undertones, "I guess we don't really know each other after all," and leaves behind a filmy sense of violation and betrayal as if you've just discovered she's been sleeping with your husband, or she thinks that celadon and violet is a truly beautiful and not at all nausea-inducing color combination.

Anyway, not getting to vote for the first time since I came of age can only be described as devastating and part of me is ready to run out and update my voter registration so that four years from now I won't have to endure the same disappointment. But then I remember that I'm unaffiliated by choice. I'm a wild card. Mysterious. Exciting. Which way will she go? Nobody knows. You'll have to work hard for this one.

Gut feeling

Do you ever get the pit feeling in your stomach, like something's wrong, you just don't know what? And it's the anxious anticipation that really kills: the knowing that something is about to happen, but when? When? WHEN?! Like when you go to the eye doctor and they want to do the glaucoma test--you know, when they blast your eyeball with a strong puff of air--and you've got your forehead and chin pressed up against the machine, and you're staring at the dot, and your eye is drying out while you're trying not to blink. And you KNOW the air is coming...coming soon...aaaaaanytime now...I wish she would just push the damn bu--POOF! And you go shooting three feet backwards because even though you anticipated the hell out of it, it SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF YOU ANYWAY. Something like that, only without the technician, your husband and everyone else in the waiting room biting their knuckles trying their hardest not to laugh audibly. Because that would be embarrassing.

I woke up this morning and--WHAM!--bad pit feeling. I made it to work, and everything seemed to be okay, so I got busy moving office furniture around and doing general organizing and cleaning work, which is an excellent way to prevent overthinking. But as the end of the day was nearing, and I sat down to try and install a scanner--WHAM-WHAM!--bad pit feeling coupled with the overwhelming urge to get home as soon as possible. And I made it home, and everything still seems to be okay. I don't normally act on gut feelings; I don't even act every time I get the bad pit feeling. But today it is especially strong, still writhing inside of my stomach, stirring up this unexplainable worry, and as hard as I'm trying to get on with the evening I can't stop thinking that something is wrong. Something is very wrong.