Pull the cord, raise the dead
It seems like lately I have to get things out of my head in a certain order before I can get to the things that I actually want to think about. (Thusly, there is a giant long rambly private entry I decided not to subject you all to, in regards to the 11 hours I spent at work today. Blargh. Also I managed to forget to pay my electric bill last month. Today: not so good.)
I'm fairly annoyed that there are some good literary/meta conversations I want to have with people but can't, because I know I can't devote more than a few minutes to them. By the time I have time to sit down lately, everyone has moved on. This is not good, because my ideas are all piling up into a socratic dialog instead. No one wants this to happen, trust me! Untended ideas aren't supposed to turn into dialectics! I should probably seek help. Actually, I really want to try writing fanworks/meta in the format because I think it's fun, but it feels so much like intellectual posturing.)
The one little bright spot was finding that my friendly farmer's market apiary had let their bees loose in Daley Plaza today. I'd been meaning to restock on honey anyway, and while people are usually gathered around tasting the honey, everyone else was keeping a good 4+ foot buffer between themselves and the table because it was, you know, covered in bees. Because I have to get my adventure somehow (and because honey bees have become kind of an adorable cuddly insect underdog in my mind), I marched myself up to the table, had a couple of samples, had a couple of bees land on me and try to share the samples, and bought myself some delicious wildflower honey which, supposedly, is mostly raspberry and chestnut this time of year. I can't verify that, but it's kind of tangy and woody and is wonderful. I'm also wondering what kind of impression I left on them, because from my point of view I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn't afraid of adorable little honey bees, but from theirs I was probably the most airheaded and weird girl they saw all day. I was grinning the entire time and told them, when they joked that I could've taken one of the bees home when it landed on my sample, that it would get lonely if I took it.
I'm fairly annoyed that there are some good literary/meta conversations I want to have with people but can't, because I know I can't devote more than a few minutes to them. By the time I have time to sit down lately, everyone has moved on. This is not good, because my ideas are all piling up into a socratic dialog instead. No one wants this to happen, trust me! Untended ideas aren't supposed to turn into dialectics! I should probably seek help. Actually, I really want to try writing fanworks/meta in the format because I think it's fun, but it feels so much like intellectual posturing.)
The one little bright spot was finding that my friendly farmer's market apiary had let their bees loose in Daley Plaza today. I'd been meaning to restock on honey anyway, and while people are usually gathered around tasting the honey, everyone else was keeping a good 4+ foot buffer between themselves and the table because it was, you know, covered in bees. Because I have to get my adventure somehow (and because honey bees have become kind of an adorable cuddly insect underdog in my mind), I marched myself up to the table, had a couple of samples, had a couple of bees land on me and try to share the samples, and bought myself some delicious wildflower honey which, supposedly, is mostly raspberry and chestnut this time of year. I can't verify that, but it's kind of tangy and woody and is wonderful. I'm also wondering what kind of impression I left on them, because from my point of view I was trying to prove to myself that I wasn't afraid of adorable little honey bees, but from theirs I was probably the most airheaded and weird girl they saw all day. I was grinning the entire time and told them, when they joked that I could've taken one of the bees home when it landed on my sample, that it would get lonely if I took it.