Dec 23, 2008
I was really worried.
Weird how no one from the world of science (or that of the FBI) appealed to my plea.
It's like they said (the honest people at Hadron): such black holes should be small and should evaporate quickly, of their own accord.
And, if it were otherwise, I guess I'd have a real problem right about now. The kind I might not be able to deal with very effectively here, at frankenmonsterblog.
But historically (say 300 years from now) it would at least (frankenmonsterblog would at least) be relevant as part of a whole "time line" that would certainly reveal itself. Later.
History always revealing itself - eventually.
What I'm worried about now are those pesky stragglers.
Stragglers can instantly turn the entire planet into a "dead lump" (scientists say).
Here, in this apartment, that remains to be seen.
The 24th of this month marks the fortieth anniversary of the first ever astronautical view of the earth as seen from the moon.
Where the earth was described for the first time ever as "fragile and small".
Just another little planet with not much more than a "common little star" for a sun.
Though blue. Though thriving. Though clearly alive.
Wow. I love that.
All I recall is that Snoopy was decked out as an astronaut more often than not.
One world. One planet. The evidence was in. At least according to Snoopy. And moon boots. And moon cereal..
Must have been such a heady time. What with Christmas and the moon and everything.
Dec 20, 2008
Wow it feels good to just state it like that. I have a problem. Ok.
It all started about three weeks ago - when, one day, I became bored.
[boredom: the delusion that one's laziness is caused by something outside of oneself]
So, after a few attempts at playing chess against my computer - then adopting the pretense of "cleaning up this mess" - I just started smashing protons together.
I know. That's bad.
That's why it's so good.
I knew it was stupid - even as I was doing it. But I couldn't stop.
Protons are endlessly smashable (turns out).
Endlessly. Like play-doh. Or cookie dough.
And smashing protons is way better than, say, filing bills or cleaning desks.
Actually, I wanted to distract myself from the very bills that would reveal themselves at the bottom of the stack (on my desk).
So, after smashing protons together for about fifteen minutes I guess I lost interest and went to make a sandwich.
Nothing fancy. Just a PB and J.
Though I did toast the bread. And I used a little butter. That is, an omega3 infused "buttery spread".
Albeit, redundantly - it turns out the peanut butter was already infused with omega3!
But healthy - crazy but healthy. That's my motto.
So the sandwich was great.
And I forgot all about the earlier protons. And got on with the process of "hanging out", as they say.
That is, I did nothing for the rest of the day.
It was probably six or seven hours before I happened to walk past my office again.
It was then that I saw the black hole for the first time.
I was shocked.
The black hole was everything I had imagined it would be:
It was black. It was a hole.
It was floating three inches above from my stapler, just to the left of the lamp.
I noticed today that its dimensions have increased. It's at least three times the size it was yesterday.
I've checked around the apartment and nothing seems to be missing.
But still, how annoying?
..stupid black hole that never goes away..!
Dec 7, 2008
Note: it was never supposed to look that way.
I really am all out of ideas. I've checked everything out.
How long this has been going on?
Has it been years? (My god!)
I have it all spelled out in my template - my original template (four years old) that I have been tweaking the entire time.
I realize per my research today - that blogs look different depending on the browser one is using.
But this is crazy.
Dec 6, 2008
In all truth:
I need to file.
I need to FILE badly.
That's how the thing with the letters started in the first place (how typical that I instead sat back and enjoyed reading the letters).
I feel, here (with the shredder sitting not a foot away) that it's probably a good idea to simply purge all files right now, and begin again.
Not the letters (or cards), but the all the rest that has piled up as a result of the letters (and cards), so to speak.
"Letters (and cards)" being a sort of umbrella - meant to describe a myriad of things that have come my way since my dad died.
Things that require special focus. And any lack of special focus meant a stack of such proportions would grow in my office. Not like a weed, but like a database.
I let my files go - for too long.
Now I see a stack of recipes, bills and various diary entries (all written on random pieces of paper - all without any dates to lend any context) and tears from magazines for a million different purposes - all mixed together in one neat 4' high 8.5 x 11 stack.
It's a stack with sharp edges that is placed at a right angle to the room, and points East, if that matters.
For whatever reason the kittens have not disturbed it, and for that I'm very glad.
And - I can only hope that it's just receipts, recipes, etc.
Really, I have no idea.
Rather than a shredder, what I need is an incinerator. As the idea of using my shredder for so many hours makes me cringe. How loud of me?
Because we recently upgraded to a better one.
Better meaning louder.
Better not being extraordinary.
extraordinary = quieter
quieter = $ + extrodinaryThis, too, applies to vacuum cleaners. An upgrade will only be louder. It's only when one begins loitering in the "investment" tier of vacuum buying - that the vacuums begin being quieter.
Much, much quieter.
Victoria lives in Chicago and occasionally writes in her blog..
Dec 5, 2008
This was actually a much worse pile - a few years ago. I remember an entire garbage bag filled with what seemed like every greeting card in the world.
So, I pared that down. Chose quickly what looked like actual letters, then sifted through the greeting cards for what appealed to me visually - trying to take note of any meaningful /family connections.
The greeting cards were fun for me. The truly tacky, colorful vintage designs appeal to me the most.
And if those were from friends or family, all the better.
Because it's not about cards. ..It's about people.
See. That will be my tagline. For my card company.
Anyway, either way, it had to be pared down. A process I began just a few days ago.
I know. It's been three years. But that's how long it took for me to get this rolling.
Besides, I wanted to address these things thoughtfully. Not hurriedly. And I'm glad that I waited until I was ready.
What I discovered were millions of letters written to my mom and dad from a hand full of people - that, when organized, tell a fascinating story that reads very much like a book.
These letters are a real slice of life that I would have otherwise been ignorant of.
Fact: my parents were people. With lives. Though I knew this intellectually - the proof is so enlightening.
These letters are mostly from the early part of the 1960's. Vernacular was surprisingly not all that different. Colloquialism, however, obviously has changed.
Each persons reluctance to spell out swear words, for instance, yet allude to them anyway (in various ways) is charming.Funny. That people wrote at all. I know they had telephones. I mean these were letters. Three, four pages, typed and handwritten.
Making even the mundane events reported sparkle - as people seemed to not only really care about things, but have personal writing styles that held a readers attention (even me, forty-five years later, totally uninvolved - could not put these letters down).
I was disappointed when I came to the bottom of the stack.
I began to be able to identify who had written what - per the person's style of writing.
And I really started to care, for instance, whether Kay would ever finally, really - for once and for all agree to marry Gunnar.
..then what happened?
What the hell has happened to us?
I mean, what in the hxxx (rhymes with bell) has happend to us?