Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Skeeters and such

I'm running right into the same brick wall of not having much to say that happened with my last online blog. I am not sure what has happened to me in the last five or six years but posting in my journal and before that, writing in my journal used to be of such vital importance that it would often supercede sleep. In an effort to be even remotely consistent, I am today just going to post about a bit of nothing, a bit of something.

Firstly, this evening finds me at work, where I live in a corner of the room, surrounded by the ashen remains of the freedom I once enjoyed as a young girl. Ha ha no I'm kidding! If anything, the remains of my free time are smoky and not ashy in the least. No but seriously, while I am thankfully gainfully employed in an abysmal economy, often feel like work is a leaden anvil on my chest. OK, it appears I am headed for a labyrinth of hyperbole so I'ma gonna stop talking about work and move on.

Secondly, for the last three days I have been itching the roughly 230 hot button mosquito bites found along the vast landscape of my legs and arms. I mention this only because I have had to stop typing this particular entry four times to surrender to the sweet nectar of relief to dig my nails into my skin and stifle the groan of yesssssss that accompanies each turn. And now that that's done I can move on to...

Thirdly, I have so much going on in my life, so many things that need to be done that I often hearken back to a poem I wrote after first becoming a librarian at one of the busiest libraries I've ever worked in (and probably ever will):

i stamp
and collate,
i arrange
and disseminate
discuss and
with my lower half
at the top
i feel
dizzy as
a pinwheel
but not half
as bright;
part of me
the other
a whirl in

Don't get me twisted, everything I have to do is wonderful: Paris, a close friend's wedding, little trips and dinners and time well spent and everything that makes life good. But it is the sheer volume of goodness that feels just a tad bit overwhelming. Maybe I could stretch it out a bit next time? Doubtful. I'm prone to first world problems apparently.

What else, what else? I'm reading a Paris travel guide in preparation for my trip. The major points I've gleaned from the book are:

1) Paris is the city of lights.
2) Paris has a lot of wine and cheese.
3) I will have to move to Paris for at least a year.
4) Frommer's guides have a fair share of typos.

I think taking those points to Paris with me will be beneficial and helpful at every turn, droit et gauche!

This is truly a useless post but hey, at least I posted. I'll find something better tomorrow after I've cut out each one of the mosquito bites from my legs and arms and the crook of my right hand just under my pinky. Au revoir!

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