Oh hi.

Okay it's been way too long, and my dearest called me on it.  It's true.

Deleted the other blog, for those who knew of it/were following it.  I'm fickle.  Thus is my nature.  I only have the desire to discuss it when it's happening, and nothing's really happening anymore.  If you want the rest of the g on g story, just ask me.  But for now, nothing terribly adventurous is happening in that department.

It's FAIRE SEASON!  And I'm ill already!  YAY!  3rd weekend in and I'm bogged down by a head cold. Yay me.  I wish I could even enjoy the days off a little, but no, I'm ill and recuperating.  Lots of adorable pictures of me are floating about, which always delights and baffles me.

I'm putting my toes in . . . ever so slowly . . . into the deep, murky waters of wedding planning.  It's a scary motherfucker.  Like, thanks Disney, for making me want that fairy tale bullshit.  I mean, mine won't be traditional, by any means, but I still want that big ideal wedding.  I can't avoid it, I have a shitton of family.  It looks like we're looking at about 100 guests.  Which could be worse, I suppose.  But it's still a loooot.  I don't want anyone taking on debts for this.

The illness better fly away because . . . it looks like I'm going to be waitressing in the very near future!  There is a restaurant near Faire that is now managed by the husband of a friend, and a lot of Faire type peeps are working there, so I said hey, why not.  I need the extra money bigtime, plus I'll love my coworkers.  I've never waited before, so that part is a bit intimidating, but I figure it's 75% acting anyway.  Right up my alley.  The only thing I don't really know is how to do taxes when you figure in tips or whatever.  Damn the man!

{www.nataliedee.com}

::sigh:: I feel like I've exhausted what I can say.  I almost called my Beff last night because every once in a while I get that overwhelming pressure of eternity weighing me down.  You know, mortality and all.  No big, just looking your finite self right in the eyes.  I avoided severe reaction but it's still entirely overwhelming.

I plan to start a big internet art project once Faire is over and I have spare time again.  A web comic-y artistic outlet.  We'll see how that pans out.  Mah boy said he'll web design and we can go from there.  It's good to have a project.

Anyway, I think I'm done.  I'm busy doing nothing on my sick day, dontchaknow.

A Poem, by Artificial Intelligence, Racter.

"At all events my own essays and dissertations about love

and its endless pain and perpetual pleasure will be

known and understood by all of you who read this and

talk or sing or chant about it to your worried friends

or nervous enemies.  Love is the question and the subject

of this essay.  We will commence with a question:  does

steak love lettuce?  This question is implacably

hard and inevitably diffcult to answer.  Here is

a question:  does an electron love a proton,

or does it love a neutron?  Here is a question:  does

a man love a woman or, to be specific and to be

precise, does Bill love Diane?  The interesting

and critical response to this is:  no!  He is

obsessed and infatuated with her.  He is loony

and crazy about her.  That is not the love

of steak and lettuce, of electron and proton and

neutron.  This dissertation will show that the

love of a man and a woman is not the love of

steak and lettuce.  Love is interesting to me

and fascinating to you but it is painful to

Bill and Diane.  That is love!"

{Source Unknown.}

GaGa.

"Yes I do . . . I dream about it a lot . . . I suppose I could lie to you, and not tell you the truth, but the truth is I do think about it." -GaGa on Death

{Screenshot from GaGa's music video, "Alejandro".}