Seeing the sun for the first time.

I have been very busy lately. Busy with work most of all, but also busy with cats (sitting on them, in particular), busy with family, and busy with this holiday season.

Because of my schedule, however, I feel like I never see the sun anymore. I kind of miss her. I have been trying to wake up early enough to see her, but she always goes to sleep an hour or two after I rise. Bummer.

Hank, and human depravity.

Hank appeared at my parents' house two weeks ago with squinty eyes and lots of little scratches and cuts on him. It was obvious that he had seen the brunt of several cat fights. He was hungry, but he was also very frightened. He was frightened of the other cat that hangs around the house, frightened of me, frightened of the dogs inside. Of course my parents put food out for him. While he was eating, I came up and pet him a few times. He loved it. After a while, though, the dogs barked. Hank ran away.

Dubbed "Hank" because he looked almost-but-not-quite like a cat my parents had taken care of before (named Henry), Hank made quite the impression on all of us. He was a big, bruiser of a cat- no neck, a huge head, and big paws. Through all of the dirt and filth, you could see that he was white, with large ginger splotches. He soon became more outgoing, and would rush up to us and rub against our legs. He was neutered, and was most definitely used to people. Why on earth had he been abandoned?

As the week wore on, it became more apparent that Hank couldn't stay outside my parents' house. Linus, the other outdoor cat, was getting beaten up. Hank's eyes looked awful. We finally made the decision to take him to the Humane Society.

The people at the HSSA were absolutely wonderful. They realized just how special Hank was, and took me straight in with them. They ran a few blood tests on Hank to see if he would be able to be adopted. Unfortunately, both the FIV antigen snap test and the IDEXX RealPCR FIV test came back positive. If he had been more healthy, he would have been able to live out the rest of his life at a no-kill shelter, however he also had anemia. His eyes were another issue. No matter how aggressively they tried to treat his them, they would not heal. His immunities were not up for it.

I am going to be with Hank while they euthanize him today.

I can hope that the past two weeks have been high points in his life- I know that he has been warm and had plenty to eat and a lot of love. For those of you who work or worked with me, you guys remember Jane- SHE has been taking care of him. We all know that means he's been WELL loved. I wish there was more that I could have done for him, however I can say that what I wish more than anything that whoever owned him had cared for him. He did not deserve to be dumped and left to fend for himself. Despite all the care my family and the Humane Society have given him, he certainly should have had more. He should have been able to have a life.

A rich, full day.

Today, I woke up ridiculously early after going to bed ridiculously early the day prior- I blame a food coma, despite my obvious lack of turkey consumption. I made muffins and cleaned my house. The muffins were a gingerbread with cranberries and yogurt chips. I was experimenting. They were awesome, freaking delicious. They were so good, in fact, that I invited a friend over to try one. He agreed that they were, indeed, freaking delicious.

Along with cleaning the kitchen, vacuuming, and all that jazz, I decided to be a good fish owner and clean my fish tank. It needed to be topped off anyway, but what it needed more than anything was to be cleaned, conditioned, and have its filter replaced. Done, done, and done. There was more than a little complaining on the part of my five fish- especially my plecostomus, who is huge and could probably best me in a battle. I offer to your photographic evidence:

Compare him to the platy. It's like having Shamu in the tank, if Shamu was completely terrifying. I am scared of this fish, yet endeared to him at the same time. Classic Stockholm Syndrome.

I have avoided any retail stores today. I think that Black Friday is a disgusting tradition. Sunflower, the market, was not busy, and I therefore purchased a few meaninful items to om nom at whilst at work. I will need it, as I have not slept much today and I work in twenty minutes. Humph. I suppose I will go now.

,

So I finally got around to getting my car checked out. It's been making an unpleasant noise since about June, but it had been running fine, so I did what most people would do: ignore it under the assumption that if something was really going wrong, my car would subtly tell me of its problems. You know, subtly, like spontaneous combustion while I am in the driver's seat. Turns out all the trips to Phoenix were probably not the best idea, as a water pump was falling apart (hence the noise) and on top of that, the fan belt was wearing down. But the point of this blog is not to talk about how seemingly intelligent people do incredibly stupid things. The point of it is to say that I've gotten these parts fixed, and now my vehicle is running just fine. I no longer have to listen to my music at a higher decibel to mask out the grinding, gurgling noise that it was making. Points for my ear drums!

Speaking of intelligence, grammar and usage has really been getting me down lately. No, I've not been messing it up more than usual. I just assumed that anyone who had gotten through basic eighth grade English class would be better at speaking and writing their native tongue than they truly are. I guess I begged the question. I use this term less because I want to and more because this is the correct manner in which it should be used. Begging the question means to beg (assume) that there is truth to something without seeing real proof. Another painful usage error is the term "for all intensive purposes". Really guys, you should know how to say it before you try to act smart, irregardless of your true IQ. (Irregardless is another pet peeve of mine, and therefore was placed in that context purposefully.)

Will found this sentence on a slashdot.org forum the other day, which is why I bring all of this up:
For all intensive purposes, "whom" is no longer a word. Which begs the question, "Who cares?"
Please tell me that someone else is as annoyed by this as I am.

xo,
B.

PS- My birthday is in approximately ten days, depending on where you live geographically (this means you, Robin). This means that I have succeeded in proper metabolic function for twenty-three years!

Dreamscaping.

It's not that I am feeling mopey or pathetic, but I am having mopey and pathetic thoughts run through my head I may as well dump them out into some sort of medium before I go to bed in the fond hopes that I sleep slightly better.

I have had unsettling dreams for the past three nights in a row. Though I have yet to wake up from said unsettling dreams to find myself changed in my bed into a monstrous vermin, things still haven't been rosy. Each night, these dreams have caused poor sleeping, waking up more frequently and more fatigued than anything else, and uncomfortable night sweats. I wake up remembering my dreams and the feelings involved in them better than I remember the previous day, and I am caught in some sort of haze that I'm not fully freed of until I actually leave the house completely.

This is not a new development. I am not sure why this happens to me as often as it does. All my life, I have had vivid dreams. They became particularly unruly when I got in to middle school, and I usually can't go a month without having something that, for me, is truly a nightmare. As far as I know, there is nothing I can do about it. I am not one who can trim and tailor my dreams to fit my wishes; I am a terrible dreamscaper. I can't just will myself to think of something else. I just hope that it doesn't last much longer. I want a good night's rest- never mind the fact that it will be during the day!

An open letter.

Dear Sir,

I am sure we have a lot in common. For instance, we both appear to be human. I will take a guess and say that we are both probably within the ages of 18 to 55. And both of us certainly like music. This, though, is where we part.

I say this because I would not park in front of a set of apartments with my music blasting. I do appreciate being able to hear my music when in my car, but not at quite the same decibal level as you. No, if I have to scream at the top of my lungs so that my friend may hear me, as you were clearly doing right outside my apartment this evening, I would probably have turned it down. Also, if my vehicle was vibrating because of the bass notes that were eminating from the speakers, I have to say that would have been a clue that the music was too loud. However I do know that some people like vibrating sensations, and who am I to judge you on your more personal likes and dislikes?

I will be honest with you. I did not actually wake up because you were screaming at the top of your lungs. It wasn't because I thought that maybe, just maybe, I was finally being abducted by aliens when my walls and bed began to shake. No, I was renched out of a comfortable stupor because my cat began to cry every time the bed lurched to your bass-heavy rap. Yes, I mean it. He wailed every time.

In closing, I'm going to beseech that you please, please learn to turn down your dial. There are many beneficial elements to this. Not only will I be able to sleep and you won't scare poor, defenseless critters, but you may have better hearing in the years to come. So go ahead; turn it down. You'll thank me later.

Yours,
Brenna

Phobia!

I went to Phobia tonight, and I must say that I was impressed for several reasons. I like being scared, and this definitely did it for me. They had good jumps and a couple of things that were truthfully unnerving enough for me to be scared. It was quite easy to get trapped in the moment and become frightened. Plus, it was in a huge, empty Linens N Things building. How creepy is that?

There were two 'haunts': Voodoo and Asylum. The way that they were described to me by the ticket lady was as so: "Well, Voodoo is more of the outdoors elements as well as inside, you know, graveyards and that kind of stuff. Asylum is an asylum, it has patients and doctors and clowns." Because, you know, all hospitals have demonic clowns. I must say that while I despise clowns, Voodoo scared me more. It had the advantage of being longer, and it seemed much better coordinated. The first thing you saw upon turning the first corner was a black-shrouded figure walking past you and disappearing into a black wall. The tricks and chills went on. You never knew where to look; at one point some guy started screaming at me, and it took me a second to realize that he was actually squatting above me on a fence. One of the creepier effects involved a blood stained bride walking towards me in a dark hall lit only by a strobe light. She had the perfect evil face, and because of the strobe, it didn't look like she ever moved, she just got closer.

Because I am who I am, though, I did manage to make a couple of the actors break character. My favorite break of character was the cannibal cook. The room was blood splattered and there were body parts all over the table. This equally bloody cook came out clanging a pan and cleaver and screaming. He got right in my face (they like to do this, especially to someone who looks scared) and screamed, "DO YOU WANT SOMETHING TO EAT???" to which I replied, "No thanks. I'm a vegetarian". I don't think that this guy had ever had a response like that, because he paused (stopped clanking around and everything), chuckled a little, and just said, "Really?" Then tried to get back into character. He got me back at the end, though, because I had just come through a dark maze to the exit and he popped up and said, "DARK IN THERE, ISN'T IT?" To which I jumped, because I hadn't seen him appear.

Payback is hell.

We have such sights to show you!

I just finished what can only be considered a "Clive Barker-a-thon". By this, I mean I watched both Books of Blood and Hellraiser II: Hellbound in one night. I had no particular purpose in watching these movies, other than the fact that I felt that I needed a break from reading Let the Right One In, which is probably what I would have done. Not that this book isn't amazing; it's just...well, let's just say that one has to be in a particular mood to stomach it.

This is not to say that either of these movies were big ol' pick-me-uppers, but whatever. It's October, and nearing Halloween...I hope I can get some leeway for my morbid tastes. Speaking of morbid, here's probably the only picture of me that I will ever post up on my blog!

I couldn't sleep a few nights ago...so I became a zombie. Sassy, no? Tucson has an awesome zombie walk on October 24th (http://www.myspace.com/tucson_resurected) that I will be missing (damn you, work!), but as you can see from the above, I obviously belong there with my people. Anyone who can make it definitely should, and take lots of pictures for me. I WILL be going to Nightfall (http://www.nightfallaz.com/2009/) this year, though. I have heard it's delightfully cheesy. Huzzah! Another haunt that I'll be observing is Phobia (http://phobiatucson.com/). Ah, Halloween! My favorite time of year. And Tucson really gets into the spirit of things, no pun intended.

Ok...it's been a real scream, but I should go. It's almost 9am, and I've yet to sleep. :D

P.S.- Robin, we must Skype soon, no?

Yes, I did see that door.

I saw Paranormal Activity yesterday. The movie was horribly undermined by all of the screaming and hysteria coming from the crowd. I probably would have found the movie to be more frightening if there had been a marked lack of "OOOH SHIT!" and "DIDJA SEE THAT DOOR?!?!" commentary. The part that really struck me as funny, however, is that everyone in the theater actually thought that the movie was real. Doesn't anyone else remember the Blair Witch Project? Same thing. The movie was supposed to seem real, and people truly believed it until the presumed dead college students began showing up on various tonight shows to talk about their present fame and what it's really like to be dead.

On another note, I recently watched a music video that has been in my iTunes for a while. I've seen it before, and I remember having an equally confused reaction to it before. It has continually baffled me...so I would like to present for your viewing pleasure "Looking Glass" by The Birthday Massacre. Please take a moment to watch the link below and potentially get back to me with commentary.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctrcpgIo_9I

Note: I really do like The Birthday Massacre. I just have no idea what is going on here.

Life's Lessons: Lots of Lyrics

Yesterday, I went to Phoenix. Not having much experience driving in Arizona (outside of Tucson itself), I was a little stressed about getting up there. I arrived without getting lost and with minimal emotional duress. I stayed in Phoenix for the night, and left in the wee small hours of the morning (8 am).

For as horrified as I was getting up there, the drive back was freakishly liberating. It's about a two hour drive, and I sang the entire way home. My throat was aching by the end of my trip. For the sheer giggle factor, the "play list" that I created for myself during my drive is as follows:

1. Depeche Mode- Precious

2. Depeche Mode- Enjoy the Silence

3. Depeche Mode- Policy of Truth

4. Depeche Mode- World in My Eyes

5. Depeche Mode- I Feel You

6. Depeche Mode- Walking in My Shoes

7. Amanda Palmer- Astronaut

8. Amanda Palmer- Runs in the Family

9. Amanda Palmer- Leeds United

10. Amanda Palmer- Guitar Hero

11. Amanda Palmer- Oasis

12. Crazy Loop- Crazy Loop (mm-mm-ma)

13. Katy Perry- Hot N Cold

14. Daft Punk- Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

15. MGMT- Kids

16. Head Automatica- Beating Heart Baby

This relatively schizophrenic, kind of embarrassing and utterly predictable grouping of songs fueled my return. I came home feeling pretty good. I really needed it, after what has been a pretty emotionally draining week.

I work tonight. I really should be sleeping, but-surprise! It's not happening.

.

I am almost officially done with being overworked (for now).

There comes a time...

...when you realize that laying in bed, wide-eyed and staring at your cat, is counterproductive. Nailing this point home is when your cat is laying in bed, wide-eyed and staring right back at you. It appears that I have not only tossed and turned myself awake, but Ozymandias, too. Poor Ozy.

I suppose I should be happy that I am awake. Because of my innate inability to sleep longer than four hours at a time (today it was six! I should be so proud), I have the chance to get up, greet the world, and go do...stuff. I'm sure there are things that I could do. I could go grocery shopping. I could do laundry. Interestingly enough, neither of these things seem "get out of bed" worthy. The questions that arise, then, is this: Do I try to go back to bed? Do I wake up, putz around for a few hours, then cram in a nap before work? Do I give up completely? Such deep questions...questions with no suitable answers!

What I really should do is take a shower. The sad thing is that no matter what time I wake up, someone in the apartment building is always taking a shower right when I want to. I tried to forge through it last night. The net result: no cold water. I was absolutely scalded before I finished.

Hark, I hear no more running water. It's my turn to use the cold tap!

cough/hack.

So the past week has been filled with:

A) work, and
B) the flu.

Yes, I know it's only September. But my immune system decided that it just couldn't wait to get sick...and I mean sick. Like, "hack so much your muscles ache" sick, or "sleep eighteen hours straight in the fond hopes that you won't cough and/or choke while unconscious" sick. I finally got well enough to get up go out yesterday. After a few hours, I became very, very fatigued. But you know what? I'm not coughing nearly as much as I was. And last night I only slept ten hours.

I really want to rent My Bloody Valentine: 3D. I saw it in theaters, and no, it wasn't anything amazing, but it was enjoyably gory and quite entertaining. Besides, seeing a Boston Terrier in 3D was faboo...not that I don't get to see that on a regular basis, anyway.

Which reminds me of the BEST PICTURE EVER:

Speaking of black and white (a small jump, but bear with me), I've been wearing a lot of monochromatic outfits lately. It makes me wonder if I'm secretly aspiring to be a mime. Thanks to Speed Bump, I'll end this blog with a brilliant comic:

Nothing, really.

I have nothing very important to say right now. This week has been about as ridiculous as Eugene Ionesco's Rhinoceros. I mean this in as real a sense as can be possible. I have only run in to one or two rhinos roaming the streets in the past week, as opposed to the entirety of humanity, but we're getting there. For anyone who isn't aware of what I'm talking about...well, google it.

Anyway, there is no point to this post except to keep me occupied while I can not sleep. I can only hope that someone comes away from this with something, even if that's just taking solace in the fact that I am pseudo pretentious enough to have read Ionesco. Note: I read Rhinoceros while waiting for my clothes to finish drying at the laundromat one day. One of my favorite quotes from said absurd play is this:

Daisy: I never knew you were such a realist- I thought you were more poetic. Where's your imagination? There are many sides to reality. Choose the one that's best for you. Escape into the world of imagination.

I found out today that my favorite contemporary author and my favorite musical artist are dating. This means absolutely nothing to me or the rest of humanity, but it certainly is cool when your top faves of all time find each other and create awesome work together. So, uh, congratulations Amanda Palmer and Neil Gaiman. I hope that you continue to bless me with things that make me feel less morose about not being able to sleep.

Speaking of which, I have not slept more than four hours per day for the past four days. Why, one may ask? Well, part of it may have to do with the AWESOME allergies that I am currently enduring. I lay down and become dyspneic. On another note, I don't appreciate the fact that the spellcheck just told me that 'dyspneic' isn't a word. It is, damnit.

Dyspneic: difficult or labored respiration

So there.

A photo of the beautiful AFP, for those that don't know her. Posted merely because I feel like it:

I suppose I should attempt to sleep a little more before work. I still have a good three to four hours before I absolutely have to be up.

P.S.- Robin, I miss your blogs. I haven't gotten my fix recently, which probably means that you're busy and having an awesome time... :D

P.P.S.- Dad, if you're reading this, then YES, I am insured through Edna. Har, har, har.

Confessions of a single toilet bathroom.

Though I'm not very interested in the bar scene, I managed to get coerced into going to Bison Witches (http://www.bisonwitches.com/) last Thursday, with some hilarious results. Thursday is a big night for the college scene, and because of this, 4th Avenue was pretty busy. Bison Witches, being a bar and sandwich shop (and also sporting $1.50 Hefeweizen Thursday nights) was no exception. So there I was, crammed in a very busy venue with a couple of friends, when a very human urge struck me: I had to pee. Unfortunately, BW only has two bathrooms: a men's room and a women's room. Each has one toilet. As is the norm for a room full of inebriated individuals, a lot of people had to pee. There was a bit of a line. After standing in line for a few moments, I got in. Once my mission was accomplished, I exited the room to see several more ladies and a few guys waiting for their respective bathrooms. I held the door open for the next gal to enter...and she walked in with her friend close behind her.

Now, I'll be honest with you: I wasn't shocked. It doesn't weird me out or confuse me to see two people go in to a single bathroom. The guys who were standing in line had a much different reaction; one that I did not at all expect. They were mad. Mad! This is how the conversation went:

Guy1: Maaaaan, you see these girls goin' in together.
Guy2: Yeah, I know! If we tried to do that, we'd be so made fun of.
*Guy3 exits the bathroom, trapping Brenna between Guys1&2 and himself*
Guy3: For real! We'd never hear the end of it. It's not fair!
*Brenna stifles a laugh, then ducks and runs before Guys1-3 get more in depth about the unfair societal standards for men*

I could get all "social psychology" on this, but really, I'm sure it's pointless. The truth is that three drunk guys became very passionate about having to wait for the bathroom.

A small update.

So... Stuff has happened since I last spoke! Nothing really awesome for the general public, but a couple of things that are pretty awesome for me, and I'll even add photographic evidence, to boot!

First off: I got new bedding. For those of you who don't know my every intricacy, which I believe counts everyone out except my cat, I am REALLY picky. Not about food (except bell peppers...they can just DIE), but about anything that will reflect my personal "touch". So basically clothing, jewelry, posters and paintings, placemats for my kitchen table, and bedding. You know, the normal stuff.

Regardless of how crazy this makes me sound, it still brings me back to the fact that I have not bought bedding in many, many years. I find something I like, teeter on the edge of getting it, and then REFUSE. Well, I finally got the bedding of my dreams (for now) from IKEA. I bought it while I was still on vacation, but it came back home with my parents, as I didn't want to lug it on the plane. It is the stuff to the right, and it has every color I love (teal, dark purple, and lime). It's also incredibly soft.

Next thing: I saw Depeche Mode in concert! This was absolutely amazing. Never did I think that a bunch of 48 year olds could be so active and limber on stage. Sure, I felt a little molested after frontman David Gahan gyrated against his microphone stand the first couple of times, but you really get used to that. My friend and I had great seats, and it was basically a whole lot of fun.
The day started horribly, though. I had gotten the day (Sunday) off of work, which meant I got out at 8am (an hour late) Sunday morning and was supposed to sleep hard and fast before the concert, which was at 8pm in Phoenix. I couldn't. My work night had me all wound up, and I spent the next four hours completely miserable. I finally fell asleep at noon, only to wake up at 3:30pm and get ready. We were on the road (more or less) by 6 after a couple of snafus that were unexpected.
And then I drove.
And I drove.

Two hours on I-10 later, we were in Phoenix. I was a tidge grumpier than I should have been, mainly from the driving. There is NOTHING on I-10 except a bunch of blowing dust and signs announcing said blowing dust.

Once there, however, it was quite obvious that things were going to be great. They played a lot of new songs, but out of sheer obligation to their fans (I was of the younger generation that was there), they also played a ton of their older songs. My favorites were "Enjoy the Silence", "It's No Good", and of course "Personal Jesus" (done at the very end after their third encore). As for their new songs, "Wrong" and "In Chains" were great, too. The night ended with me riding strong on a concert high, and I returned to Tucson feeling quite warm and fuzzy.


Yesterday was a double-feature. I got off of work at 6am and showered, then had to drive out to the East-Central side of Tucson for a dentist's appointment. I got there incredibly early, so I sat and read for a while. Once in, however, I had...well, as much fun as one has at the dentist's office.

The dentist seems to be, for me, more awkward than an OB/Gyn appointment. Why? Well, you and your gyno already know that there's going to be uncertainty and discomfort. Your dentist, however, comes in smiling and talkative. He or she asks questions that elicit answers. You answer to the best of your ability, and then he or she asks you to open your mouth. You do, but then what? As your friendly dentist is busy scraping and scaling away at your teeth and gums, he (my dentist was male, so I'm going to stop the ambiguity) continues to ask questions! Questions that, again, elicit answers! So what do you do? What DO you DO?! Do you try to answer with hand gestures? Surely, he should NOT be looking at your hands as he's got those sharp objects in your mouth. So you try to speak. I found the "b" sound to be the hardest to do around a full pair of hands. The rest of my appointment involved me desperately trying not to bite the fingers off of my dentist in a vain attempt to converse.

I can happily say that there is nothing wrong with my teeth, though. Hooray! He says that I have straighter teeth than most people who had braces, and that I have very clean, nice teeth with great bone structure. Sweet.

I then got to go home and wait a couple of hours for my annual employee review. I was not looking forward to this, mainly because things like this make me nervous. But it turned out to be good. I got told that I was an asset to the team, and various other cliches. I got smiles from both the supervisor doing my review and my hospital administrator. I left feeling good.


After all that excitement, I decided that I should go home and go to sleep, as I hadn't in about a day now. Upon laying down, though, I realized that all I wanted to do was read Shutter Island, my most recent book of choice. I started reading it because the movie is coming out, and I want to see the movie. Two hundred pages later, I finished the book and went to bed. If the movie is anything like the book, it'll be great! Now I just have to wait until FEBRUARY for it to come out. BOO!

And here I'll leave you. Until next time, lovers!

Big storms yield bugs.

Pretty much all of yesterday was consumed by a grand scale storm.

For those who do not live in Tucson (or the surrounding regions), this storm was called a monsoon. We have a whole "season" where we are supposed to be completely obliterated by them. I mean this in the literal sense. There are high winds and loads of thunder and lightening. There's supposed to be so much rain that our streets, which were built under the suspicion that it's always dry in Tucson, flood over. As far as I've seen, the only benefit to this is that you have to learn creative ways to get around town. But the true beauty of monsoons is not the intriguing tree pruning done by the elements. It is not having to caulk your wagon and float it across rivers that are literally waist high. It's the fact that we're getting water, people. According to various sources that I've found, Tucson's water table has dropped up to 200 feet in certain places over about half as many years. Now, obviously one monsoon isn't going to do much. But a whole season can really make or break us for the year.

The problem with this year is that we've only had a couple of real storms. It's been incredibly dry with record heat waves. For Tucson, that means about 115 degrees. Basically, this summer has sucked.

But back to the story of the storm. Yesterday at about three in the afternoon, I awoke to a cracking sound that must have originated directly above my apartment, and for once I can say that it wasn't coming from my leadfoot upstairs neighbor. I dramatically threw open my shutters to see...nothing clearly. Sheets of rain were pouring down my window, and from what I could make out, my car was being pelted by fat, happy raindrops. I left the shutters open and allowed myself to be lulled into a blissful sleep. When I woke up, it was still drizzling, and when I finally got into my car to leave, it seemed that the rain had finally drawn to an end. It turns out that it had not, as I later heard it drilling down onto the walls of my work. It had, however, stopped when I got out of work and headed home. I rolled down my window to enjoy the humidity and drove off.

What I did not realize was that with large rainstorms in the desert comes gnats. It dawned on me slowly. First I noticed a swarm hovering in an oddly symmetrical, columnar fashion around one street sign. Then I noticed that they seemed to be hovering in the same way around EVERY STREET SIGN THAT I PASSED. As I was finally starting to get nervous about the impending pestilence, I rounded a curve in the road and smacked right in to a wall of the creatures. It was at this point that I rolled up my window, humidity be damned.

There are many reasons why, if anyone ever wants to visit this state, they should NOT visit in the summer. The obvious one would be the heat. The next one is the possiblity of being swept away in a huge storm. But what you should really be afraid of, dear reader, are the gnats the size of hummingbirds. Just remember: you've been warned.




(P.S.- I'd just like to take the opportunity to say that the above photograph was taken by yours truly...)

Cause for alarm.

A cruel reality is coming home completely exhausted and then realizing that your alarm clock is broken. What is even more distressing, however, is running to the store under the illusion that you'll be able to go in, grab an alarm clock and leave without using any brain power whatsoever.

I entered Target after waiting for two miserable, slightly incoherent hours for said store to open. I showed great restraint by walking past all the shiny baubles that I would normally stop and gawk at. Finally, I reached the VERY back of the store where they hide their electronic devices.

Ladies and gentlemen, I tell you this in all honesty: they have alarm clocks that let you record messages. They have alarm clocks that display the time via projector onto your wall. They have alarm clocks that you can dock your iPod into. They have alarm clocks that tell you the weather. They have princess alarm clocks with towers that will impale your hand as you search desperately for the 'snooze' button. They do not, however, have an alarm clock that runs off of battery and wall plug-in that will show you the time and allow you to dial into your favorite radio station.

During my tiny existential crisis, four or five Target employees came and asked if I needed any help. What they didn't realize was that I was far beyond help at this point. Instead of continuing to stand, slack-jawed and pondering my own reality in public, I sheepishly grabbed the simplest alarm clock they sold. I ejected myself from the store as fast as I could and went home to teach myself how to use my shiny new gadget.

I honestly haven't had this much trouble choosing the right product since I witlessly decided to just "run by Walgreens for some toothpaste", but that's another story entirely. As for now, my BRAND NEW ALARM CLOCK (!!!) is set and ready to wake me up for another day of work.

The never-ending why!

You may be wondering, "Why, Brenna? Why a blog?" Don't worry; I'm wondering this as well. It boils down to this: I have nothing better to do with all of the thoughts that filter in and out of the spongy matter in my head. Because of this, I figured, Why not? I might as well share with the rest of the world.

And do I honestly think anyone will read this? No, not really. Either way, now I can take my pseudo-witty quips and compile them, instead of letting them sit and fester.

Besides, I'm also doing this so that it's easier to talk to Robin while she's in Japan.