Memory lapses

Do you ever have a hard time remembering who it was that you had a particular conversation with? Like I've been thinking about this conversation about Taylor Swift that I had over a month ago. Who in the world would have discussed this with me? I finally remembered. Then, I saw a wasp and had to rack my brain to figure out who it was that I conversed with about wasp versus bee stings. Again problem solved, but I hate those moments of memory without context.

Add this problem to all of that: I have a lot of conversations in my mind with all sorts of people. Sometimes I can't really remembered what has actually been said and what has only been said in my mind.

Then there are the pretend events that occur. Like a couple of weeks ago, I slowed down on the highway to turn left onto the blacktop when my car was attacked by a band of gypsies (no offense to real gypsies, who have never to my knowledge committed any sort of crimes along highway 83). They sort of looted my car there on the highway. Then I tell someone about it and I remember to add that it happened in my mind. But later, I might forget that part and disparage the reputation of a beloved highway and a people group that don't even live in the area.

Then there are the dreams. Like the one where that kid from creative writing class tells me about how one of my friends is a crazy drug mule on the border now. Sometimes it feels like the dream really happened and I want to talk about it, but I don't want to talk to a real person about it because I don't want to call someone a drug mule just because I had a dream about it. So I have a fake conversation with a person who is real, but isn't actually present. Then a few weeks later I forget that I only pretended to have a conversation with this person so I mention the drug mule thing without thinking. Now, I've spread a crazy rumor.

Does anyone have any strategies for dealing with these types of situations?

Personal affirmation that I look good today because it's unlikely that anyone will tell me and even if they do it won't really matter.

This isn't a real post, but it is such a shame that I live alone. I look amazing this morning. It will probably be frazzled away by the day and no one at work will care, but I just thought you should know. I'm even wearing high plains hair sans a scarf and I still look amazing. What a waste!

The longest to-do list I've ever written

I've got a huge to-do list today:

1. Finish Everything
2. Do laundry

I better get on it.

Lunch time random requests/thoughts

I need assistance in the music department again. I need a spring summer mix with upbeat tunes. Nothing melancholy. All hopeful. Nothing depressing. Nothing that reminds me of anything depressing. Please advise via comments.

I've read a couple of modern literary novels recently. Sometimes I feel like I just shouldn't do that. As with most novels, there is an exploration of love through plot . These novels make me think that maybe I think too highly of love. For heaven's sake, shouldn't we want to move heaven and earth to have and keep it once we've found it? And if we aren't really willing to do that, can it be called love? Do modern characters speak for humanity? Have we decided that instinct is a value greater than all others? That love doesn't require anything of us? (sidenote, that rant made me think of the Kundera novel, "Identity". In the light of my rant, it's really a good novel.) (I guess I don't mind when novels present this type of behavior, but I hate when it's presented without any critique of the characters.)

I realized that maybe the flimsy portrayal of love in novels is why I'm not a fan of romances in general. I was trying to remember moments in novels where love seemed real and I thought of "Anna Karenina" and Levin waiting for Kitty to give birth. Then I thought of the way the Kundera novel ended. I'm wondering if you have any novel suggestions where love's depths are actually expressed.

Ennui. It's a great word an a horrible feeling. I remember looking up the word in the dictionary while reading "Pride and Prejudice" as a young teenager. The word appeared in an article this week and then made it's way into a revision of a poem and then made it's way into my head. Luckily the thought made me cry. As long as I'm able to do that I don't feel completely detached in an ennui sort of way.

Can everyone please quit using the phrase "brain fart"? 1. It's crass. 2. It doesn't make sense. 3. Every time someone says it I try to figure out what that physically looks like in the anatomy of the brain and I just stop listening to the person who said it.

I ought to figure out what to eat for lunch. Salad? Probably.

Sorry that I talked about novels during national poetry month, but it feels strangely poetic to do so.

P.S. You really ought to say a little prayer for me.

like a tulip

Spring, yep.

Spring chills. The sun is shining now, but not quite warmly. I sat on my porch reading with my hair exposed earlier this morning in the hopes of returning to summer blond. I like my natural hair color, but everything is better sunny.

Spring dreams. My dreams are vague except during the spring. Then they are specific. Even in their specificity, they fail to guide.

Spring prays. Everyday I ask for God to give me something good. Some days I wonder if He understands what good means. Then I realize that I don't know what good means.

Spring rains. The soil is dark brown again and the flowers looked pleased. The earth begs me for some new seed. I don't know what to give.

Spring Aprils. I try not to think of it as the cruelest month, but once it's in your mind that way, you can't help but find all sorts of ways that it fulfills the prophesy. Maybe April can be the coolest month (as in hip not Decemberish).

Spring stays. One day you stop fearing the cold because you know it won't last. I look at my sweaters and wool skirts and realize that I will have to settle into a different wardrobe. I am wondering what I'll wear next. And I wish I could be brave like a tulip.