S#48: Music
I rarely listen to music, because I’m so hypersensitive that I can very rarely listen to music and do anything else at the same time. I get overwhelmed by the emotion. (The exception is when I’m driving, when music helps me forget that I’m driving, which is a good thing since driving is terrifying to me.)
A few days ago I got a craving for a CD I haven’t listened to in years – Rich Mullins’ “The Jesus record”.
http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/the-jesus-record/id18234553
As the title suggests, it’s a Christian CD. Rich Mullins recorded demos for the album, then died suddenly (in a plane crash) so one CD is his demos, and the other is various other people singing his songs.
The demo is haunting, with Rich Mullins playing along with himself on either piano or guitar. You can hear other people in the room, and the cracks in his voice, and the thunk of the cassette recorder getting stopped and started again. The songs themselves are very good – each one is about Jesus, who is always a fascinating topic.
My favourite thing about Jesus is his vulnerability – growing up as a human child on earth is a daring move – and my least favourite thing is how incredibly difficult he is to understand and/or connect too. The record covers both aspects with gentleness and honesty.
One of the lyrics is the complaint of the disapproving religious elite about Jesus: “The gays all seem to love him and the drunks propose a toast” (I changed to the word “gay” from one that isn’t child-safe, but the principle of the deleted word is the same, ie people the church thinks are bad, but who Jesus loves and spends his time around. The original word refers to “sinful women” but is rude).
Another song addresses God directly:
Do you remember when you lived down here where we all scrape to find the faith to ask for daily bread? Did you forget about us after you had flown away?
. . . your ways and you are just plain hard to get.
It’s rare for me to connect with God (generally my prayers involve a lot of swearing – heartfelt, but not that much fun for either of us), but he showed up today as I cancelled my plans and listened to the CD from beginning to end. When he does show up, the world’s suffering isn’t so bad, my mental illness doesn’t define me, and God himself is as pleasant and ordinary as my cats sprawled delightedly in a patch of sun. I don’t know why God doesn’t make himself obvious all the time, but in moments like this I’m too content to care.
Play along at home: Listen to a CD you loved ten years ago. Or, for bonus points, say hi to God and see if he says hi back.
Tomorrow: Trawling through a secondhand clothes shop. What bizarre treasures will I find this time?
Two-thirds (sorta)
I’m on limited return (to the world of the living) at present. Cautiously okay. Mainly because this morning I’m back at 79 kilos (which is where I was last Friday, but is still technically ahead of the one-kilo-a-week schedule). So another nine days of pain (and Friday’s the biggest birthday of all, so that may hurt a LOT), but there’s a good chance I’ll actually get lower than my 78-kilo goal. Which means there’s plenty more pain coming, but it’s back to being useful pain. I can handle almost anything when it’s meaningful. (But I’ll still stay home and quiet as much as possible.)
Also, the sun is back. That makes a huge difference. And one of my stories is getting professionally paid to appear in the next “Going Down Swinging” magazine (in episode # 30, which is getting launched at the Melbourne Writers’ Festival in September).
So in some ways this is a good week.
#154: Savings. And the unisus kitten
For today’s awesomeness, I put money into a savings account. I aim to put money into that account every month, but this is the first time I’ve managed it this year. Having more than $20 saved up is pretty novel for me, and it’s a wonderful feeling.
But probably not that exciting for you. So here’s something extra awesome just for y’all.
This painting was brought into horrifying being by Jeff Zugale, and if you think the faces look familiar, you’re right. It’s a prompt for a writing competition to help lupus sufferers (because sometimes it IS lupus), and all the details are at http://whatever.scalzi.com/2010/05/30/fanfic-contest/
It’s also my current desktop pic, while I begin writing a story of my own to go with it.
Play along at home: Either (a) Save some money, somewhere; or
(b) Write a fanfic story to go with the picture, and enter it in the competition for unusually good pay.
S#56: Feed Ducks
I borrowed someone else’s children for this one.
Anyone currently residing in the antipodes will observe the blue sky in these pictures and know this was not a recent picnic. (I miss the sun so badly right now.) It happened about a fortnight ago and, since I hate and fear the outdoors, wasn’t technically my idea. All good though!
Have any of the Monty Python cast died? Because if so, I think they’ve reincarnated.
The strangest thing happened during the picnic. All of a sudden a murder of crows flapped into existence, alighting in all the trees around our picnic rug and screaming, and screaming, and screaming, for several minutes. Then they all flew away.
I’m mildly surprised none of us dropped dead. It was truly weird.
Play along at home: Next time the sun comes out (like RIGHT NOW if you’re in Canberra), flee your desk and bask for as many seconds as you can. Preferably near ducks – and away from crows. (If you live in the Northern hemisphere, I hate you right now.)
Coming soon: Marshmallow gun (almost certainly this Sunday).
Rediscover Winter clothes.
Fill your house with balloons.
Make trifle. (Or, in my case, eat it.)
Op shop shopping spree.
And some surprises.
Halfway
And what did YOU do on the weekend?
If you’d like to see many more octopus photos (and who wouldn’t?), you may enjoy the facebook group I set up exactly for that reason (I’m posting something every day for the next little while). http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=120950664610493
There’s video at http://twittertales.wordpress.com already.
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At 4pm today I’ll be halfway through the three weeks of pain.
Only one problem. Bizarrely, my body has gained a kilo and a half since Friday. Since that weigh-in, the bad stuff I’ve eaten was only a sesame bar (basically my only option for lunch that day), 30 grams of chocolate, and two pieces of cake (one on Friday, one on Sunday). Even if I’d eaten all that in a single day, that’s still not THAT much. It’s not a freakish one-off weigh-in either, because I’ve increased dramatically every day for three days.
I generally express my anger by eating chocolate. But I’m not going to do that. The next best thing is to withdraw completely from society.
So, bye. Don’t call me.
#: Put an octopus in an unexpected place
Welcome one and all to Secret # 6.
Octopi have the slinky flexibility of cats. They flollop. The tentacles are sticky, and really do wrap around anything nearby. These guys weigh over two kilos each, which is a lot of lumpy reptilian squidginess. And I could feel the slippery lump of their brains wobbling around inside their skulls. I got octopus ink on my hands, and unidentified biological matter on my clothes, skin and hair. My hands still smelled of octopus when I went to bed that night, despite the fact I’d washed them with hot water and with soap more than half a dozen times. And cut my fingernails. Right now I still have a tentacley mass lurking in the fridge, waiting for rubbish day.
That was quite a day. I could see people frowning in confusion as they past, and then their faces lighting up as they realised what was happening.
Ben (that’s his voice on the video – this was all his idea) named the smaller one Squidgy and the larger one Tentacular. These pictures are not copyrighted, so you may use them as desktops or whatever as long as you mention either this blog or “Louise Curtis”. In the next three hours I’ll begin putting ALL the photos up on a new facebook group, and I’ll put the address of it at the end of this post. The photos and video were taken at the Australian National University, outside Belconnen Library, in the city centre (the last photos involved another fountain-wade from yours truly), and in my mother’s backyard. (When my mother saw what we had in the bucket, she went “Urg!” and took a step back.)
Want more photos? http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=120950664610493
#147: Dream Diary
Ben suggested:
Keep a (g-rated) dream diary for a week, then (sarcastically)
recreate some of the more interesting incidents as photographs
I’ve been putting this off for a long time, for reasons that will become clear. So here’s a crop of four dreams from a perfectly ordinary week:
1. I was on a family holiday in which U2 was staying next door with various animals (why not?). During the course of the holiday, their elephant herd escaped into our yard. I helped by holding a terrified elephant the size of my hand. Subconscious meaning: I not-so-subconsciously look forward to having a baby (represented by my sister being in the dream, and by the delight with my incredibly tiny elephant).
2. I was pregnant, and CJ and I went together for a routine checkup (one of my more realistic dreams – prophetic even, since it’ll eventually happen). Subconscious meaning: See # 1.
4. CJ and I were at a club, sitting at a large table while a group of footballers, football managers and football media filled the chairs for dinner. One of the footballers grabbed my knee under the table and I was so startled I said nothing. Then a second grabbed my knee. At that point I stood up, and delivered the following diatribe (which I’ve produced verbatim, I’m proud to say):
“My husband is RIGHT HERE, so you must be some kind of idiot. Even if I was attracted to you – which I’m not – I wouldn’t want you groping me. Even if I liked your personality – which I don’t – I wouldn’t want you groping me. So don’t.”
CJ and I then stormed off majestically, leaving a stunned table behind us. I couldn’t help noticing that neither one of us was carrying our bags, and turned to CJ to say so.
“We’ll get them tomorrow,” he said.
“My phone –”
“Tomorrow morning,” he said.
“Okay.”
(Thus, we managed to resist spoiling our majestic flouncing.) Subconscious meaning: I dislike idiots, but like yelling at people.
4. Justin Bieber (who worked in an Aussie pizza shop) was my sidekick. Together we fought crime. Subconscious meaning: Shut up.
Tomorrow: Secret # 6 at last!
#153: Finding out what my kids will look like. . .
. . . if I marry the celebrities below:
Frodo (it could happen, dagnammit)
Faith (again, it could happen. . . with science. . .)
Elvis (SCIENCE, I tell you!)
CJ (on the basis that if I’ve heard of someone, they’re a celebrity):
Because that’s not creepy at ALL.
(Many thanks to Morphthing.com)
If you’re looking for today’s twittertale – it’s finished, so I posted it on the 26th (in its own entry, so you can just click on the “Completed Twittertale” button on the right).
Healthy weight range update: I lost two kilos this week (that’s several pounds). It hurt a LOT. One kilo to go. All I have to do is HOLD ON.
Fish update: Sherlock ATE one of the other fish. I just bought him a more specialised food, so hopefully it won’t happen again. Other than that, the fish seem happy. They’ve already outlived the last lot, so things are probably going to be fine.
STOP PRESS!!!!! Secret # 6 has HAPPENED. I’ll be posting ALL the details and pictures and video on Sunday.
In the meantime, here are some (probably misleading) clues: It took five hours (mostly because we did a very thorough job of it). I have blisters, a broken shoe, and a broken thumbnail. I carefully wiped down the camera afterwards. A blue bucket played a pivotal role. One word: squidgy. Today also involved public places, and taking off my shoes.
S#59: Otherwise Known As. . .
Steff Metal (http://steffmetal.com/101-ways-to-cheer-yourself-up/) said:
Decide on new nicknames for all of your friends. Send them a text or email to let them know their new nickname, and call them that from now on. The more outrageous the nicknames, the better.
I have had many nicknames over the years: Scopes, Steffocles, Double F, Squints, Blinkin’, Blinkie Bill (I detest this), Steffy, Steffy-waffles, Titi, Dozer and Beaker (those last two gens are from my husband. Such a caring fellow.)
Nicknames make a person feel loved, like they’ve reached a new level of intimacy with you.
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So! *rolls up sleeves with evil grin* here’s the new names of all the friends featured in yesterday’s entry.
First, Ben (who was behind the camera as usual): Ben is called “Matrix Ben” after an incident with another friend. This other friend (who I’ll call Sunny, because he is) is very very happy, very huggy, and very extraverted. I once heard a conversation in which someone asked what he was like to live with, and received the reply, “Well. . . he’s naked a lot.”
He sat next to Ben one day on a rather small couch and leaned in for a hug (or quite possibly a kiss). Ben cringed back, and at the same time – through some amazing contortion – placed his sneakered foot between Sunny’s face and his own. I still don’t know how his foot got there, let alone how it got there instantaneously.
Since this move was clearly impossible in this reality, Ben is now dubbed Matrix Ben.
W has a name that he regularly finds in romance novels (seriously), so I’m just leaving that one alone. (I should note for the record that he doesn’t find it by reading said romance novels, but by other people telling him about it.)
The girl who isn’t me is quite clearly a ninja, based on my observations. She is the quietest person I’ve ever met (despite appearances in the video). Therefore, I’m giving her a ninja nickname. This is it:
Didn’t see anything? That’s because the nickname is BEHIND YOU!!
The other darkly bearded fellow shares a first name with my partner, CJ. This causes endless confusion as I find it quite easy to tell when I’m talking to my husband and when I’m talking to the other one. But no-one else does. So yesterday I began referring to them as “the one I’ve seen naked” and “the one I haven’t seen naked”. Therefore, CJ is now called “Naked”. You would think that “the other one” could then be referred to by his own name. But no. It doesn’t work like that.
Last night, W addressed a cupcake in rather affectionate terms just before eating it. “The other one” was directly in front of him, and said, “Why thank you.” At that moment, he became “Cupcake”.
I tested out the new nickname in the supermarket later, when Cupcake was walking away. From a distance of about twenty metres, he stopped in his tracks, turned around, and said, “Yes?”
Nickname test: successful.
Leaving aside those in the video, my pregnant sister is now called Bigbelly, as an honorary pregnancy name. (You’re Welcome.)
So, all of the video people are accounted for except one. Me.
Go on, make me a nickname. I dare you. You can base it on Louise Curtis, Felicity Bloomfield (my less child-safe alter ego) or some wacky feature of my personality or appearance. Or just make something up from thin air. This is the easiest “play along at home” ever. Don’t be shy!
Dance in a Supermarket
NB: The completed twittertale “And then I woke up” is in its own post directly below this one.
Some weeks ago, W suggested I should go and dance in a supermarket.
I gathered a bunch of friends (all of whom have an interest in ballroom dancing) and a bunch of hats (from W himself – yes, all of them) and convinced them that we should all go dancing together. Everyone got dressed for the night-time walk to the shops, then donned our chosen hats and opened the front door.
Rain.
High-quality hats and rain don’t mix, so the fate of the evening looked grim. One person went home, leaving us with a broken couple.
The rest of us clutched our precious hats to our chests and ran through the rain laughing in a manic fashion and quoting “Girl Genius” (“. . . and if you lose your hat, it is a BAD PLAN.”)
We crammed into two rain-soaked cars, drove to the shopping centre feeling like Amazon explorers, and performed another mad dash across a supermarket carpark. And then we were inside, and hatted, and there was no music! We wandered shiftily until we found the best spot, the music came on, and W bravely began to dance. (He’s the good-looking dark-bearded twenty-something one. . . in the middle.) Observe the terror on my face:
But I found my courage eventually:
During the course of this video, I swung wildly between delight and embarassment (wouldn’t you?)
When we’d danced enough, we exited the store – with our groceries, of course.
The night swung from possibility to despair to adventure to silliness and ultimately triumph. With bananas.
Tomorrow: S#59: Formerly Known As. . . (there shall be nicknames for everyone in the video).
I’m also currently working on a suggestion Ben made – and I quote –
Make a gun(s) that fires Marshmallows at high speed (could be
easily done several ways…)
