tobermory's Diaryland Diary


Busy, busy, busy

Yesterday I dropped a blog. I have about twelve blogs or diaries that I regularly read Ė I wonít list them, but about half are some of the Ďbiggiesí (like Dooce) and the other half are Chicago-area blogs (like Jennsylvania). The Chicago ones are of particular interest because, that being where I live, Iím always interested in another personís perspective of the city Ė where they shop and eat, what they do, etc. But you know when someone feels the need to start writing about how cute they are, what awesome legs they have, and how Ė poor them Ė they only weigh 110 pounds it starts to get old. Jealousy rears itís ugly head? Eh, maybe, but Iíve never really liked it when people make repeated references to their tininess. I dropped another Chicago blog awhile back. The writer was a photographer and sells some of her digital prints on her site along with keeping an online journal. She wrote for a long time about the construction of her new house and her husband and their family and then apparently someone asked her where she would be moving to. She posted an entry where she got all huffy about how she wouldnít answer that question because it was an invasion of her privacy, blah, blabity, blahÖ. I didnít see what the big deal was if she had just answered the person and said Iím moving to Naperville or Geneva or Greyslake or where ever. Iím assuming that they didnít ask what her new street address would be (that would be a little creepy) but letís face it Ė if you have a journal and you write about your life youíre putting some of your personal information out there and maybe (hopefully) other people might read it. If you donít want that to happen then password protect that journal you idiots! I guess you do get to choose what information you print and which you keep to yourself, but a simple question like what town youíre moving to seemed rather innocuous to get all spazzy about. Who knows? Maybe they would have had some great information for her about her new town like, ďdonít ever go to the cleaners at Elm and Main Ė they always lose stuff,Ē or, ďtry the French toast at the corner diner Ė itís really fluffy.Ē You know Ė good stuff like that. I guess itís kind of odd, but when I had dinner with Weetabix awhile back I likened reading online journals to reading a novel where you really like the main character and you donít have to worry about the book ending and leaving you with a void. You never know where the story will go, but it has infinite possibilities. By the same token when a good journaler Ďretiresí itís a huge disappointment. I used to read a journal called Bitter Hag. I had just about finished up reading her archives and moved on to her daily posts when she abruptly quit. Unlike when a book ends with its neat tidy ending, when a journaler quits it leaves all sorts of unanswered questions and loose ends. What happened to her? Did she find a boyfriend? Does she still ride her bike? How is the remodeling of her house going? Iíll probably never know. Itís like finding a great old set of novels at a used bookstore and then finding out that the last book is missing and out of print Ė imagine never getting to read Return of the King and never knowing if Frodo manages to ditch the One Ring in the firey pit of Mordor (why yes, I am a complete geek).

On to less contemplative things. Like me having (at least) one too many beers on Saturday night at Club Foot. Oh, my bedroom it was spinning like a dog chasing its tail. I remember stumbling into the bathroom and then I think I fell asleep with the toilet seat framing my face, and then I do remember barfing up the contents of my stomach. It came out my nose too. This is probably too much information, but donít you hate it when that happens? So gross and kind of painful too. I managed to brush my teeth (good dental hygiene is always important) and stumble back to bed. I should have taken that opportunity to drink a bottle of water, but that wasnít high enough on the priority list. I woke up at 6:30 when my alarm rudely went off and it was so LOUD, and it was so BRIGHT in my bedroom. My god I thoughtĖ is this what a hangover is? Prior to this Iíve always been irritatingly fresh like a daisy after a night of imbibing both my share and everyone elseís. I crawled into the bathroom and took three Advils and then crawled to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water and then I crawled back to bed, slept for another three hours and woke up Ė irritatingly fresh as a daisy. I didnít even have the dreaded bloat-face, so la-di-da.

Iíve spent waaaaaaay too much time watching Carnivale over the past few days. Iím anxiously waiting for the last disc of Season 1 to arrive and then I have to be very patient until Season 2 is available from Netflix. I donít know if Iíll make it. If I can get Steve to go with the plan I might move Twin Peaks up on the queue because the two shows have a similar eerie sensibility and I might be able to satisfy my Carnivale craving with a Twin Peaks fix. Speaking of Steve he gets back tonight Ė yay! Amazing how freedom isnít as fun as I thought it would be. Freedom is a bad word choice Ė Steve is really pretty amiable about me making most of our social plans and he has no problem with me going out with my friends without him. I was thinking more like freedom to watch whatever I want on the (single) TV; freedom to eat a candy bar for dinner without having anyone there to look at me like Iím nutritionally impaired; freedom to not have to think about how the Cubs did last night.

This summer is shaping up to be the summer of overplanning. Tomorrow Steve and I are going to the Field Museum to see the Waco Brothers at one of their fun evening party events, Friday I go to see Cheap Trick with Allison (Steve just rolled his eyes and reminded me that he has soccer on Friday nights while I danced around the kitchen screaming, ďI want YOU to want ME!Ē), Saturday morning is the dog wash at the shelter and then Saturday afternoon Steve and I have tickets to the super-hot Cubs/Boston Red Sox game. I figure that by Sunday Iíll be a very subdued, sunburnt, person ready for a rest but I think I want to plant Butterfly Gladiola bulbs in front of the house (if I can find a local source for them), get the tomatoes and basil in the ground, and mow the lawn before it goes to seed again. If Iím feeling really ambitious I might weed out front and water and fertilize the back lawn so I can reseed the bald patches next week. Then if Iím not dead from overexhaustion, next week I have tickets to go see the Go-Betweens (the extended, enhanced re-released CDís of Tallulah and 16 Lovers Lane are absolutely the BEST!) at the Abbey Pub and Prairie Home Companion at Ravinia.

Iíll be sure to post a weekend round-up on Monday or Tuesday to fill you in on all the happenings.

2:26 p.m. - 2005-06-08


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