Jo is playing "catch-up", and trying (but not very hard) to find tax forms (darn her procrastination!) She is happy to be modeling a Reign of Fire dragon for her final project in 3DSMax, but still feels vexed over all the schoolwork looming over her head like a dark thunderous cloud. Such is the life of a lazy bum like Jo. She is contemplating moving to a one-bedroom apartment. It would cost significantly more, but it would sure be nice (not to mention a few blocks from her school. Sure beats the 1.5 hour drive on the bus from where she is now).
She went to a college church retreat over the weekend and hung out on large boulders and sat in warm pine needles. It benefitted her stress level greatly, and in such a lovely pine-fresh environment she also felt closer to God. Lots of thinking and lots of good old relaxation (a favorable change from the usual). But, as happens with everyone - it's back to the old grind. Today Jo suggests these sites:
J.C. Amberlyn Art
War Dogs of Vietnam
Don't forget to cry for My Lai.
A voice echoes, a part of Jo's thoughts: "Do you smell the dust?"
"Yes."
"Can you taste the water, bitter and mineralized? Stolen from other regions to water desert lawns that shouldn't exist?"
"Yeah, but I've learned to live with it."
"Do you feel the bright heat, beating your head, the human stink of sweat? Do you breathe the heat waves and sense the scorching of your skin under the noon-day desert sun?"
"Not yet...there is still a cool breeze...but I know it will come."
"Are you afraid?"
"Yes, but not for any practical reason. The dread is such that comes to the soldier who hears a car backfire and dives for cover. Such that a simple buzz might bring to a rattlesnake bite survivor. It is the fear of what holds company with nightmares of the past."
Jo walks the sidewalks, fingers unsnapping and resnapping the stun gun case clipped to her pocket. She looks for birds, lizards, or hares as always, but, as usual, finds very little life. She scans the passing Van Buren street traffic. Her eyes dart around continuously like a hunted animal. She should not have worn shorts, but as the temperature rises, she cannot bear to don conservative winter attire. Finally she steps off the sidewalk, choosing to hike through the rubble and weeds to minimize the chance of mistaken identity and victimization. Van Buren is not a friendly street, but it is the only way to her job and the bus stop to school. Jo consciously avoids the repulsive litter that is scattered across the gritty brown earth: undergarments, trojan wrappers, shattered beer bottles. Her hand finds the black chord that dangles from the defense mechanism and crawls through the loop until it drapes about her boney wrist. Having reached an impass of thorny brush, she steps back onto the sidewalk and pauses to dig a sharp-edged rock from her shoe. A cat-call whistle escapes a passing vehicle and she pales, hand tightening on the case. How can she keep from being mistaken as a prostitute? First she hunches her shoulders, then she goose-steps for a while. Growing closer to an intersection, she jogs until she reaches the corner of the block and stands next to a telephone pole, fidgeting. She casts a "dont touch me" glare about and pulls at her backpack straps, allowing the air to circulate across the damp material beneath. At last the light turns green, and she crosses the disreputable street to a new road where a smile replaces the glare and she notices the yellow flowers that cling to the chainlink fence. She looks up towards the blue sky and sighs. The relief is so great that she starts to sing, throwing her arms out to feel the cool breeze more fully.
"Do you smell the dust? Feel the dread?"
"I can't hear you."
Two more months and I'm outta this Phoenix craphole.
It has become my obligation to help out with the two-year-olds at church through all April. At first I was apprehensive, but I am intrigued by the diversity of personalities within such a small age group -- and having any child reaching up to you with tears in his eyes, wishing to be held and comforted just really does something to ya on the inside. I figure two's aren't so terrible (then again, I've not had to change any diapers yet).
I meant to give blood today since the blood mobile was there at church - I'd even made an appointment. I went in and sat there and watched this other fearful looking kid getting prepped. I got all nervous and worked up inside, but forced myself to go forth when my name was called rather than flee out the nearest door. The lady sat me down and I looked at her, hands folded in my lap and she asks, "Did you remember to bring your license or I.D. with you?" I grimaced. "Aw nuts." A very superficial part of me was dancing with glee that I'd not be stabbed with needles today, but the majority of my feelings were regretful. I've been trying to give blood since last year and so far it just hasn't worked out. I was sure it would today, but I was stupidly forgetful as always.
Sammi and Jess took me out to eat at Chilly's with a bunch of other people as well as the kids they mentor. I was separated from them when we were seated and forced to sit next to strangers. I tried to be sociable, but I think I just made myself out to be a weirdo geek. Especially when I started asking about favorite authors. I asked Ivan if he read Crichton and he said yes, but not in a long time. I asked which was the last book he read and he said "Congo". I was positively delighted and announced with glee that "That's the book I stayed up until 3 A.M. reading last night!" After that little outburst I had second thoughts as to whether I should have kept that little tidbit of information to myself, but it was too late. Oh well. I wasn't that concerned with fitting in. I was just trying to make conversation. Too bad most people are not interested in dinosaurs, wildlife problems, inventions, and role playing...
Thank goodness I found someone who likes to do taxes. Now if I can just finish those last few details and get it in the mail tomorrow I'll be set.
Here's a fun new link:
Dr. Who Photo Novels
and here's a short story.
If I were a chemist, I'd invent GLASTIK.
Jo gets a random email from an old high school acquaintance, Jenny Koosh, scolding her for not updating her web page. Hats off to Miss Koosh if you like Highlight of the Day, for Jo is finally updating.
Jo states her sorry excuses:
1. I'm busy
2. It's finals week at college
3. I wasn't home
4. I was distracted
5. *sniff* I thought no one really cared!
*breaks down into tears*
*Slap*
Get a hold of yourself!
"Oh!" She says and straightens up, as though nothing had happened.
"Anything new?" they all wonder.
Jo answers, as any good, polite kittycat should,
"Yes, I am modeling a dragon! And it is due tonight. It's all done except for one teensy thing.
He has no TEETH!
Tune in next time and find out whether Jo finally stopped playing
Trogdor and finished her dragon dentistry!
Hurry Jo! You have mere HOURS before it's due! You can do it!
(In Sinister Shao Kahn voice): FINISH HIM!!!
(Heh heh, Kinda gives a whole new meaning to "slaying the dragon", eh?)
Don't get lost in the pudding puffs cause they're not good for you. The land of milk and honey makes me think of cereal. Real authentic jigging is not fun-looking - it's silly-looking. The Russian sort looks cooler. Now did you know that bagpipes still sound like bagpipes when you play them backwards? Madness madness. So the best way to play Trogdor is to listen to Rob Zombie while you play, and a fun thing to watch is Star Wars Gangsta Rap, even if you hate rap because it's groovy cool. "Hey Arnold" is drawn funny, but it is a good show to watch. Especially with that kiltish jacket thing. Tari is a obsessive compulsive writer - will she ever stop? I don't think so. Fett is actually writing his story again! Yay! Practical werewolves and sarcastic evil sorcerers are always great sources of entertainment, as is the Roach who is now divided. Every time Jo cooks a hamburger she has to be sure to poke holes in both sides or it will swell up and spurt blood into the air (and her face if she's not careful)! Tea is best when it is strong - you've GOT to really taste that flavor fully. Like good rootbeer should be. Rich with flavour. If you ever find yourself without a pen and paper to copy important information down, find a big dark rock and a little white rock and use them instead. And some things you will never ever be able to understand until you experience them for yourself, even if you think you do. And if there is no God, there is no hope, and you're going to die whether you like it or not. You never know if you can be good at something until you try it a few times. Sometimes it's just good to draw even if you don't know how. And playing with your food is fun. Try it.
Jo made name tags for everyone at the sub shop and even made one for the inspector. Becky says she should go into the name tag making business, but Jo is not certain such a thing exists.
School is finally over and Jo is elated to such a point that she washed her dishes and swept her floors (Yayaya!). Before you know it, she'll be updating HotD on a daily basis (unheard of!), finishing her photo albums, and sending long delayed packages out to those who have given up on getting anything from her ever again. We end with this:
Find a good book and read it, and when you're done find another good book and read it and the longer you continue this cycle, the better off you will be.
I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be
I thought I'd keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first - it wet the bed.
-Shel Silverstein
