i might have a ghost in my house

yep.

i came home the other day, and found that my bare escentuals makeup–and only this makeup–had been neatly arranged in a semi-circle formation. my makeup brush had been placed in the exact center of the semi-circle.

i live alone. and the cat doesn't have that kind of precision. and the likelihood that my landlord came over, fixed none of the things that i asked him to fix in the house, and then rearranged only some of my makeup is, well, unlikely.

i guess i shouldn't be that surprised; it is gettysburg. not sure how i feel about this. but nothing else has happened so far, so i guess i'll let it go unless something else inexplicable happens.

birthday wish

i know what it is but i won't tell!

a room with a view

"it was she who told me that you lived here."
"weren't you pleased?" she meant – "to see miss lavish," but when he bent down to the grass without replying, it struck her that she could mean something else. she watched his head, which was almost resting against her knee, and she thought that the ears were reddening.

"my father" – he looked up at her (and he was a little flushed) – "says that there is only one perfect view – the view of the sky straight over our heads, and that all these views on earth are but bungled copies of it."

a word on crust

as i sat down to table today to partake of the delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwich that i'd made, i realized with a start that i was eating that sandwich with the crusts fully on.

you, my dear friend and reader, may not see the significance of such an observation, but to me the import of the event was groundbreaking.

for years i resisted eating sandwiches with the crust on them, to the point that to serve me such a sandwich was a wasted effort in sandwich-making. within the past several years, i have expanded my repertoire of tastes to allow that crusts may have redeemable qualities, and slowly but surely, i have begun to like eating the sandwich in its entirety: crusty, such as in a state of nature.

this acceptance of crusts is not to go unanalyzed. if we consider it for a moment, the crusts on a sandwich are like the parts of life that we initially find distasteful until we develop an appreciation for them. accepting crust into my life is, consequently, evidence of my growth as a human being and as a contributing member of society.

there are, i find, many benefits to crust as well. for one thing, it limits condiments on the sandwich from soaking through and getting onto the plate. it also provides a good grasping point for the fingers so that they minimally smoosh the bread apon lifting it to eat. crust, really, defines the limits of the sandwich in a powerful and irrevocable manner.

crust is the final frontier.

countdown

birthday=18 days
indonesia=40 days

eep!

missing friends

last night i dreamed of my grandfather. first i was in greenwich, or france, or some combination of both, and i was walking down cobblestone streets and stopping in small shops. then the dream moved to a river and i was standing in a houseboat, which initially belong to my friend val whose job i took over when she left our office to move down to nc, and then it belonged to whitty, who also left to move south. it was hot and humid, and the sun was extremely bright. why was i dreaming of people who had moved away frome me?

then we were in a large house or museum... whitty was back there and she was telling me that i'd better eat the chocolate in little bowls on the tables before it was all gone. she disappeared, and then i was noticing the layout of the rooms, and there was beautifully hand-crafted furniture that i wanted to commission because the artist was so inexpensive.

a huge chest of drawers took up an entire wall in front of me; it was carved wood painted blue, and the center of the chest curved outwards in a large bubble onto which was carved a face, painted a deep red. it was a person, or a caricature of the sun or the moon. it was beautiful and earthy and calm.

and my grandfather was there and i started crying because i missed him so terribly, and felt that i'd never appreciated him enough when he was alive. he told me how proud of me he was, and how much he knew i loved him. or at least, he said something which i don't remember, but it meant: i love you and i know you love me.

sometimes language in dreams is startlingly clear; and sometimes it's confused or unspoken, but you remember the essence of what was communicated.

there is no greater pleasure

than sitting by a fire and staring, lost, into the flames.

the stars spread around you. you are alone and a part.