No less than an hour ago I drove my green ’99 Chev Lumina sedan home from work. Heading eastword with the sun behind me, I glanced in my rear-view mirror, like I do every day, checking for nearby traffic before changing lanes to get to the 172 East onramp. Today, however, I noticed that the thin film of dust clinging to my rear window had been disturbed by an oily finger. After safely changing lanes and merging with highway traffic, I raised my eyes again to more closely inspect the marks illuminated by the evening sun. Someone had written the single word “BITCH” in large capital letters in my window dust….MY window dust!
My first thought was wonder at who could possibly have done it and for what reason. I washed my car yesterday evening before it was washed anew by the torential downpours of a violent thunder storm (for which I hadn’t the foresight to check the weather forecast). From this, I reasoned that the author must have written the message sometime today. Perhaps the scription occured while I was parked in front of my parents’ home. However, I didn’t notice any marks in my windshield in the morning sunlight as I headed westward to work. It had to have happened while I was working. Somebody defaced the dust on my rear windshild in the quiet parking lot with infrequent pedestrian traffic.

So who could it be? A co-worker? An acquaintance who recognized my car in passing? A random driver overcome by road-rage at some stupid driving error I made? Perhaps I’m naive in thinking that I don’t have any enemies…maybe I really ticked someone off and they’re hunting me down. Or maybe it’s just some benevolent individual that wishes to communicate anonymously to me that I’m ornery….like one would tell an esteemed associate that they have bad breath or body oder–with anonymity to avoid embarassment. Maybe I am a bitch. I wonder if there’s a 12-step program to overcome my bitchiness. I’m sure acceptance comes first.

I was impressed with the fact that the word was written backwards so it could be read it in the reflection of the rear-view mirror. Someone actually left an encrypted message that only I, as sole driver of my car, could invariably read. Some time later, longer than I care to admit, I realized that the word was written forward from the outside, read backward from the inside, and translated forward again in the reflection. Duh.

Who knows…maybe the word has been there for a while and I didn’t notice or remember that I noticed. I didn’t really clean my windows when I hastily washed my car last night…maybe I went through this whole inner tourmoil weeks ago only to forget about it and re-live it again. Maybe it was just some kid.

I know…for all you avid fans of my spleen blog, it’s been months since my last post. I’d love to say I’ve got some good excuse…something worthwhile. Maybe I’ve been on a volunteer trip to the Sudan where I’ve spent the last three months shooing flies away from the large watery eyes of starving children. Or maybe something tragic happened. Maybe I slipped in the bathroom and bumped my head on the edge of the toilet…and instead of having an epiphany and inventing the flux capacitor, I lapsed into a 3-month coma, which I’ve just come out of some minutes ago…and after a miraculous recovery, I bounced out of my hospital bed and proceeded to blog…when I realized to my horror that I’ve kept my fans waiting. Sadly, none of that happened…and I can’t say that I’ve got a good excuse. I’ve been busy…or lazy…or busy being lazy. I suppose with change of the seasons and the nicer weather, I’ve found other ways to occupy my time. What can I say? I’m just not a very dedicated blog geek.

So I suppose I should go back and attempt to fill in the holes….so that my stalkers know what I’ve been up to.

I participated in the 30^th Annual Bellin Run/Walk yesterday…that was a lot of fun. Supposedly the Bellin Run is among the top running contests in the nation. I had a good time…I went with my beloved sister and my good friend Bridget. Angela and I finished in 1:26:59 at a pace of 14 minutes per hour. Not bad considering the average for the walking participants was 1:35:16 . We placed 634 out of 2437…I’ve got no complaints. Well…no…I do have some complaints….my butt hurts….my foot hurts….my back hurts…but other than that, I’m okay. If all goes well, I’ll slip and bump my head on a toilet and when I come out of my coma, my body will have recooperated.

I get really lazy in the evening. Not just a little lazy, either. When normal people leave their socks on the floor when they’re particularly idle, I’m nothing short of leaving myself bodily on the floor. Maybe I’m just a morning person…or maybe it’s the caffeine that keeps me from fading into my lethargic, listless evening mood. I can just feel my biological and mental activities slowing as it gets later in the day. Please note…It’s just after 9pm and I’ve got all I can handle trying to come up with a few cohesive thoughts to post in my poor excuse for a blog.

I suppose…I can’t really say I wasted the evening…although it sort of feels like I did. I went to water aerobics…exercise is important. I had dinner with my parents…watched some quality Wisconsin Public Television with my father…it was featuring a fancy schmancy pheasant recipe…Papa (yes, I call my father “Papa”) and I sat and made fun of the chef’s accent. That never gets old. I cleaned the bathroom…folded some towels. Got the week-old fingernail polish off my nails and trimmed my cuticles….healthy nails are key.
I started to write this blog entry…when one (1) Dave of vertical5.com IMed me to share thepartyparty.com with me. Very funny, if you hate Bush. This site has several very well done original and cover songs produced entirely by splicing audio footage of W. I downloaded all of them because I was so impressed with the humor and quality. Someone has seriously got a lot of time on their hands. Shortly thereafter, one (1) Dasco of bingofetish.com IMed me…who, coincidentally, is brother of the aforementioned Dave…he shared a link to some cute pics for all those FireFox fans out there. It was good chatting with you guys…thanks for brightening my evening with a little humor.

This concludes tonight’s blog post…I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. Stay tuned for another exciting post whenever I get around to writing again.

I was stressing out one day some months after my return from Spain. I was bothered by how much I didn’t know about my field and how much remained for me to learn. I believe at that time, I had just begun my design classes and I was muddling through the software and design concepts. I felt I was producing mediocre work and I was just beside myself with how I was ever going to make it in the world. I looked to my friend Ivan, who was a designer for a marketing and publishing firm in Spain (and also, coincidentally, one of my drinking buddies during my time abroad). In an IM conversation I asked him how he did it. Of course, at the time it was beyond the scope of my imagination that I could appear to do so terribly (in my mind it was terrible…I suspect it really wasn’t all that bad.) and expect to ever have any success as a designer or as anything else for that matter. Ivan simply responded (roughly translated), “I just try to leave it all a little better than how I found it.”

That really hit home for me and it’s a statement I continue to think about whenever I’m feeling overwhelmed with the futility of my existance. All I (or anyone else, for that matter) can do is simply do one’s best…take something that’s average, bad, or whatever…and make it a little better.

Today I fought a losing battle against the scores of dust bunnies that have invaded my room without notice. I can’t pin-point when the stealthy creatures first made their appearance…for all I know they’ve been here all along…waiting…silently plotting their coup d’état. I awoke this morning and they not only had me severly outnumbered, but entirely surrounded.

Sensing the tense calm before the storm, I hurried to arm myself with a broom, rag, dustpan and a can of Pledge ®…my wake stiring the tension-filled air. The gust of my movement sent the enormous wads of dust rolling like tumbleweed across my path. It could have been a trick of the imagination, but I’d swear I heard the hollow notes of a Native American flute fill my ears as I squinted at the desert horizon—I mean the hardwood floor.

The challenging thing about fighting dust is that it does not discrimintate…dust will occupy whichever surface remains still long enough for it to pearch happily atop it. When something happens to disturb said happy upper echelon dust particle, it then falls gently to the floor to join the plebeian scum of dust society…the roudy and unruly crowd. This dust, overcome by mob mentality, manifests itself in the dust riot we commonly understand as the dust bunny.

Items that rest directly on the floor make veritable havens for dust bunnies. Unfortunately for me, I have a lot of crap—erm…belongings—and very little storage, therefore space is at a premium. I’m forced to exploit the areas below my dressers and bed with shoe boxes, storage tupperwares, and happless piles. Not to mention, the serpentine mas of cords piled behind my desk. It comes as no surprise that dust should become a problem.

Well…I dusted…and swept…the swiriling clouds filled my nasal passages and burned my eyes, but I was relentless. Now with all said and done, my room is much cleaner…but to my dismay, the particles settled down again in a thin film of grey…and I still notice with my peripheral vision, bunnies scuttling across the room with the slightest draft like cockroaches. They’re angry…I can tell…and they’ll be back stronger than ever to gain their vengance…but I’ll be ready!

I’m in sort of a crappy mood tonight…for a variety of reasons.

1. I just found out my sister (who may just as well be my twin) signed up for LA Weightloss.
   Now don’t get me wrong…I couldn’t be happier for her and I wish her all of the success in the world. The problem is that she is, in a way, a standard of measurement for me…we kind of are for eachother. Things go well when our successes/failures coincide. Conversely, when one succeeds and the other fails, it becomes a detriment to the “failure’s” self image. Now, understand that I’m speaking of extreme circumstances, here. This usually only becomes readily apparent when one or both of us is in a particularly negative mood…which is rarity for us. Right now, however, now I am in a bad mood… I’m convinced that my sister is going to meet her personal weight goal and leave me fat and sedentary in the dust.
2. Voice mail messages: from ex-boyfriend=2; from boyfriend=0
   It’s an unwritten law that invariably the one you don’t want to talk to will relentlessly try to contact you, meanwhile the one that leaves you sadly deprived of attention has forgotten how to use the telephone. Bah…I don’t think he’s ever called me without me first calling him. This really puts me in the position of the “needy partner” that I particularly despise. I realize that all relationships–regardless of whether they’re platonic, romantic, familial, work-related, et cetera–are all based on power. There is always a difference in power, however slight as it may be, between those involved. Typically in a romantic relationship, the one that says, “I love you” first is the weaker member. It’s a sad thought that I’m not particularly fond of, but it means that one is at the mercy of the other…they have emotional control. It’s quite often not as terrible as it sounds…but sometimes it can really be a bitch. It’s not being needy that I have a problem with. It’s not feeling needed in return that’s giving me grief. I won’t stand for being the yippy whelp that demands constant care…and I want very badly to demand to be lavished with attention. Tricky. So what do I do? Call him? No. Be convieniently busy? Tried that. Break it off and find someone that has time for me? I don’t think I’m ready to do that.
3. I can be moody if I damn well please and I don’t owe anyone an explanaition!

Well, my sister and I resolved our differences last night at water aerobics. After 40 minutes or so of ackward silence, we had a dialogue that went something on the order of this:

“I’m not mad at you. Are you mad at me?”

“No.”

“Well, Okay then.”

And all was good. After that we instantly began to jabber on about everything under the sun. Ahh…sisters…where would I be without Angela?