One of my uncles sent me this blog post. According to the okcupid test, I am a "pure nerd" (85% nerd, in any case; in the mid-thirties for Geek and Dork.) "A Nerd is someone who is passionate about learning/being smart/academia." Sounds about right.

Happiness is two artichokes dripping with melted butter, fresh cranberries blended with orange juice, and chardonnay cauliflower soup sweetened with carrots and spiked with garam masala. This was the lunch I cooked today, and it took 20 minutes (ok, 21 if you count melting the butter in the microwave). I would like to learn to blend my own garam masala - it would be gorgeous, when I have a bigger kitchen, to have a mortar and pestle, and whole spices, and fresh herbs. I love the aromatic oils of basil and mint leaves when you crush them (separately - actually, I have no idea how they go together; I don't think they do.)

I've been jittery as of late, but able to calm myself down into focus - it is good to be more aware and in control of this now, instead of letting {hyper, hypo}focus just happen and surprise me later when I realize I've wasted N minutes (hours, days). I started doing a million things at once after lunch, and went past my "happily busy" point, and my mind started to splinter too much - but I caught it, and I sent myself to take a shower, and then I went to wash the dishes, and said "Mel, when you wash the dishes, wash the dishes," and so I... washed the dishes. Just washed the dishes. Hot water, soap, a brush, a bowl.

Then I could do stuff.

I think that's why I like small, powerful toolsets. They're eigenvectors. I can keep them in my brain without getting all antsy from the clutter that results from when I feel like I have to keep looking for more; I know they span the basis, so I can relax and solve the problem.

Tomorrow before leaving for work, I need to do the following (far overdue):

  • buy groceries (we have no cumin, eggs, or juice of any sort, are low on frozen veggies, and have neither soy nor coconut milk, etc.)
  • deep-clean Yavin IV before our first guest for Sugarcamp arrives (hurrah, Dave Farning!)
  • purvey a new comforter (my old one is past its useful life, and it is getting cold at night.)

Forced rest is exhausting. It's more work to rest than it is to work - but it does let me refill (and therefore enable me to empty out) my various reservoirs, so I am going to continue. Preparing and enjoying good food (preferably with friends) also helps. Music helps. Walking helps. Running, I think, helps. (I have long legs! It's like running with wings! I just can't do it for very long. Yet.) Kicking things also helps.

Oh yes - kicking things! (Yep, I'm somewhere in there.)

Also, a friend of mine might go into audiology. They have been forewarned that if this happens, they shall be peppered with constant questions about everything.

Finally, I am almost happy with this poem. Happy enough to let it go and call it done at last. Edit: Poem now actually displays. Bloody HTML.

A needled snake, red sirens keening.
There she went. You found her,
and you let her gently down.

Drinking cheap sorrow
in the weeks that followed, you learned
that only grief-stricken songs still held your gaze.

Once before, you would obey their sound;
now your heart is as a bruised white flower,
folded within itself. Had she returned,
you would still wear her waking shroud.