I'm so bad I scare myself.

Fact: vintage celebrities are cooler than almost all modern female celebrities.

I just love this poster so much.

She, too, is an original badass. I stand all amazed.

More 2010 Books

Touts itself as a collection of short stories but then eventually you figure out that EVERYTHING IS INTERRELATED. This was like a juicy piece of fruit for my mind. I love Margaret Atwood, though until this book I was only familiar with her poetry.

I had an elaborate plan all worked out in which I was to track down David Foster Wallace, profess my undying devotion to him, and live happily ever after. Two agoraphobes, together at last. And then what does he do? This book is possibly my favorite David Foster Wallace piece. And that is saying a lot because everything he has ever written is so brilliant there is no one word sufficient to describe it.

Even better than anticipated. Cry cry cry. Totally deserved the Pulitzer. The end.

Shout out to Janssen for the review that got me interested. This was a very interesting read, which detailed how most of the world's greatest success stories can be attributed not only to innate talent and hard work, but also sheer luck/destiny. Like being born at a certain time of year. Of attending a certain private school that had its own computer decades before any other kid had unlimited access to one (Bill Gates). Managed to balance being respectful of amazing talents like the Beatles who worked their asses off to get where they did, while also acknowledging the hand of God (indirectly) in their success.

Seriously, David Foster Wallace. You broke my heart. I loved you. It was the real thing.

I was really excited about reading this book (a memoir of the voice actress who created Bart Simpson) and although I enjoyed reading about some of the behind-the-scenes stuff because anyone who knows me knows I am a DIE HARD WOMB TO TOMB Simpsons fan, the book itself was one of the most self-serving, obnoxious memoirs I have ever read. The entire book is pretty much Cartwright gushing about how great she is and how so many famous people think she is the bee's knees. Insecure, sycophantic, SELF-PUBLISHED. 'Nuff said.

This book was EVEN SADDER THAN THE ROAD. It ripped my heart in half and then only kinda put it back together. I will definitely never see the film this novel led to, because it would probably make me so sad I would cry and forget to breathe and die.

I love David Sedaris' sweet little voice on NPR. This was really funny. I think I have been meaning to read it since I was in high school. David Sedaris is one of those really neurotic people that is so ridiculous you can't help but love him. Like Woody Allen before he turned all creepy.

Super good, lesser-known Lois Lowry book. Different from her other works in that it's a fantasy book: not sci-fi, not dystopian allegory, but straight-up fantasy. Made me cry--mostly because it was about a little boy in foster care (sniff). Made me want to be a foster parent. You, know, more than usual.

This will explain a lot.

Anyone who is close to me has probably noticed that I fret about my friends' health and safety like a neurotic mother hen. Many people assume that I will be one of those overprotective mothers who won't let her children cross the street until college. I hope this will not be the case.

I like to think that I am only rattled by situations that are a genuine cause for concern. Real health hazards instead of imaginary ones. I mean, I let D jump on the couch, so I can be too bad, right?

Don't answer that.

I blame my father for my constant worrying about safety. The following conversation will illustrate why.

Scene: I have just gotten home from the dog park and am making some lunch. My dad comes downstairs from the attic.

Dad: I need your help installing some insulation.

Me: OK. Right now? I'd like to eat something first.

Dad: No, in a few minutes. I'm taking a break. (starts rubbing his eye)

Me: Is your eye OK?

Dad: Just some dust.

Me: (putting two and two together) Have you been wearing goggles?

Dad: I don't know where they are.

Me: What the hell? I am NOT helping you up there without goggles.

Dad: Oh, it's just dust!

Me: NO, IT'S NOT!!! IT'S FIBERGLASS!!!

Dad: You'll be fine!

Me: I am not risking getting fiberglass in my eye. No. Goggles. Where are they?

So he proceeded to find me some goggles, all the while grumbling about what a "baby" I am.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

??????????????

WTF??!!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!!?

This is why I am deeply concerned about the physical welfare abut everyone who is dear to me. Because apparently my own father is cool with me installing insulation without regulation safety equipment. I mean GEEZ.

Being a spider is a tough break.

Longtime followers of my blog will recall that I have an unnatural affinity with bugs. I believe it can be traced at least in part to this song from the film Summer Magic.

I identified with this song as a child. And I really like bugs. I like watching them, though depending on the bug, I don't always like them crawling on me. Caterpillars, potato bugs, stick bugs, yes. Spiders, no. However, I make every effort to capture spiders and take them outside when I find them in the house. It seems like the right thing to do.

So today my employer went up into the attic and brought down one of those jumping activity centers for C, because she is four months old and has long legs and needs to exercise them.

Like this, except with a less creepy baby.

Anyway, so this activity center has been in the attic for a least a year, right? So of course, it has become home to a spider. A very industrious one, I might add.

I have decided his name is probably something like Bernard.

That white and green bulbous thing is his home. So picture this. You're a spider, hanging out in your incredibly comfortable home, when suddenly someone PICKS UP YOUR HOUSE AND MOVES YOU INTO A BRIGHT, LOUD PLACE AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.

Suddenly poor Bernard is subject to the following new stimuli:

• Direct sunlight
• The sound of a baby crying
• The sound of the toddler and various adults talking
• Music (today was Beach Boys and Billy Joel)
• Various crashes resulting from aforementioned toddler
• The terrifying electronic "music" emanating from this and other toys

Do you see why today was maybe the worst day of Bernard's life? Apparently most spiders live approximately one year, too. At least this wasn't his only chance to have a good day. At least he wasn't a gnat.

Anyway, so I felt really really sorry for this spider and decided I wanted to give him a leg up. Figuratively speaking. I don my water glass and postcard and attempt to remove Bernard to a better place.

Nothing doing. This is what happens when I come too near.

It was kind of adorable but also really, really sad. Because I wanted to help him, but he made it impossible.

This is not a metaphor.

It's the little things...

Today was one of those really long days at work--not so much because it was Friday, but because C spit up on me three times and is teething and D is going through a "throwing food from her high chair" phase and I was just kind of annoyed. Oh well. However, this little moment made it all worthwhile. Maybe.

Note: D is no longer breastfed. She sees her mom nursing C all the time, which is probably the source of this conversation.

Scene: I am standing next to D, age 2.

D: (gesticulating wildly, which usually indicates she wants to be picked up) Hey! Hey!

Me: Hey? (I lean over to pick her up)

D: (GRABS my boobs, one in each hand, like a frat boy) Milk! MILK!!

Me: Uh...no, there's no milk in there.

D: (insistently) Milk!!!

Me: Nope. No milk. Only Mommy has milk. Not Elisa.

D: (looks utterly flabbergasted) No milk? (Her hands have not yet left my breasts)

Me: Nope.

D: (Grabs my shirt and struggles to lift it up, presumably to see for herself if what I say is true) Wanna see! Wanna see!

Awesome.

In the past three years

I have twice dreamt about being mauled by a bear. In both of these dreams, the bear ripped my stomach open and I lay there, dying while holding my insides in with my hands. The first time I had this dream I believe I was alone, the second I was with some friends--the same friends with whom I had gone backpacking a few months prior. They expressed sadness that I had been mauled by a bear, and I took comfort in their friendship in my last moments. I mentioned these dreams offhand to my father a few days ago, and he expressed concern about my psychic balance. But he's kind of a paranoid guy who believes in astrology, so let's disregard his opinion for now and consult Dr. Google.

According to the VERY legit-seeming website dreammoods.com, my dream signifies change and a need to be more open with others.

"To see a bear in your dream, symbolizes independence, the cycle of life, death and renewal. It may signal of period of introspection and thinking. The dream may also be a pun on 'bare'. Perhaps you need to bare your soul and let everything out into the open.To dream that you are being pursued or attacked by a bear, denotes aggression, overwhelming obstacles and competition. You may find yourself in a threatening situation."

Baring my soul. Intriguing. Let's see what other experts have to say.

dreaminterpretationsguide.com warns (note: grammatical errors direct from the originals):

"Bear is significant of overwhelming competition in pursuits of every kind. To kill a bear, portends extrication from former entanglements. A young woman who dreams of a bear will have a threatening rival or some misfortune."

A young woman? Oh no!! That's me! Misfortune, eh? Yes, being mauled by a bear is quite unfortunate. That's the connection. The Internet knows my heart.

thecuriousdreamer.com opines that dreaming about a bear represents

"Power, or a power imbalance. The use of power, such as in aggression or protection. Dreaming of this animal can represent:

• Having too much of one of these qualities, or that you could benefit by being less this way
• Not having enough of one of these qualities, or that you could benefit by being more like this
• Someone or something in your real life with whom you associate one of these qualities (an event, situation, threat, etc.)"

This one, however, is by far my favorite. From dreamota.com:

"Because they hibernate, bears can symbolize cycles; birth death awakening motif; power or overpowering (the big as bear); your own cyclic activity or abilities. Is it time for your to awaken into activity, or to hibernate and renew your energy? [Note: yes, definitely!] Mythologically, bears represent mothering, the archetype of the Great Bear. In Greek mythology the bear is associated with Artemis (Roman, Diana) goddess of the moon and woods (fertility and the unconscious), and was associated with the Virgin Mary in medieval writings. Bearskins have protective and magical power, hence the fearless Nordic warriors, were originally known as 'bearsarks' because of their bearskin shirts.

What bearish aspect of yourself do you need to recognize? As pun, it can refer to something that is 'hard to bear'; an overbearing person; a need to bare yourself of your soul (truth/lies)? See also: other animals, naked/ being naked."

The last line there was my absolute favorite. Of course anything I would dream about would eventually end up relating to being naked.

Don't worry, paranormality.com is a harmless little website, which states that

"Bear is significant of overwhelming competition in pursuits of every kind. To kill a bear, portends extrication from former entanglements. A young woman who dreams of a bear will have a threatening rival or some misfortune."

Wait a minute. Wait a minute. Doesn't that sound familiar? INTERNET DREAM DICTIONARY PLAGIARISM!!!!! Is nothing sacred????

From sleeps.com, this jewel of wisdom.

"If a bear is pursuing you in your dream this is a sign that you will experience some financial losses in business. A bear also represents a rival you may have for your loved one, if the bear is seen to be climbing, then the outcome will be in your favor."

As far as I can recall, that bear didn't do no climbing. Just mauling. Of me.

And lastly, dream-analysis.com chimes in that a dream about a bear portends an issue with the "Digestive system, colon."

And those are just the results from the first page! There were over 2.5 million hits in all!! Think of what I could learn about myself if I had that kind of time!!!

To review, I should prepare for the following misfortunes:

1. A generically threatening situation and/or generalized misfortune.
2. A threatening rival, particularly for a loved one.
3. Financial losses.
4. Issues with my colon.

Also, I should consider:

1. Being more introspective.
2. Baring my soul/letting everything out in the open.
3. Whether I need to be either more or less aggressive in my life.
4. Hibernating? Oh, I am so in.
5. Buying this pill to make my nightly dreaming even more interesting. Although couldn't I do that with drugs, for free? Oh who am I kidding. Drugs aren't free!
6. How I might be similar to a bear and how that aspect of myself is "tearing me apart."

Making this clip from the cinematic masterpiece "The Room" even more relevant to my life.

If you squint with your ears, it sounds just like my name.

In short, I have decided I have no need to ever see a therapist, ever. Dr. Google is all I will ever need.

Additionally, if I ever do get attacked by a bear, let's hope it's by this little darling.

Holy adorableness, Batman. You can rip me open with those precious little claws any old day.

On Love. All kinds.

I love this song. I love her hair.

I don't always like the feeling she is singing about.

Loving people is scary. It hurts way too much of the time. Often it makes me wish I had no feelings. Today I watched a video of the song that dear Colin Hatch wrote for one Gregory Vann's birthday, and I began to miss my friends in Utah so much that I started shaking.

Hate it hate it hate it.

Damn you, Southwest, you won't be holding onto those cancelled tickets for long.