Stream of Consciousness

It is still cold where I work, but it is not the complete and total arctic blast that it once was when I sat with the anchors. And the televisions. I used to have this roomy desk with a row of televisions behind me and the remote at my disposal. I had my back to the newsroom and I thought perhaps my new co-workers were staging elaborate skits mocking me. This irrational fear, I suppose, is left over from high school. Anyway I would sit and blog and try not to listen and to all the conversations around me that didn’t concern me, which were most of them. But now I have a new desk.

I was moved into the conglomerate of desks in the center of the room. It is where the producers and assistant producers and reporters sit. I’m within earshot of the steady stream of news that comes in throughout the day and I sit next to the webmaster who feeds me handy links and press releases. (Note to self: Send Dana baby pictures.) My area is smaller, but I definitely don’t need a lot of room, and as a bonus benefit my desk is too low to allow me to cross my legs under the desk. Which is great because ten years of waiting tables (and a heavy dose of heredity) has left my claves flecked with tiny purple veins. Crossing my legs only makes this worse. I’ve resorted to popping my wrist with a elastic band everytime I catch myself doing it. The desk is helping this a great deal. That doesn’t mean I don’t shove one leg under my ass and sit all curled up in the chair fucking my back up for life. But I try not to do that too often.

The best part about my new desk is that is about 20 degrees warmer over there. There is no longer a draft so strong I had to cover my face and nose with a knitted scarf. Now merely two sweaters is enough.*

What else? Oh! The boyfriend and I are moving. Move date: September 1. We have until then to find what we are looking for. We’d like to rent a house with a fenced back yard. Pets allowed. Hardwood floors would rock, but we aren’t gonna be that picky. (If there is a dishwasher in this new home I might throw a party for it.) We want to get a dog, and we can’t get a dog without a fenced back yard. We’d also not like to get shot at it we take a walk, which is rough, ’cause we are somewhat poor and can only afford to pay less than $700-$750 a month. Preferably less. (I just realized how crazy that is going to sound to you coastal folks.)

We’ve been around East Nashville but everything is either ghetto as hell or hip, gentrified and overpriced. You know we’d love to live in Sylvan Park but who can afford it? I’m in West Meade now and the traffic sucks, but it’s really safe. The boyfriend is worried about our safety. I guess if we get robbed the saving money on rent thing is sort of for nought.

So, if you locals know of any sweet rental deals on a house with a yard that will allow pets then by all means let me know. If we get the place based on your lead you can come over and help us move!

I’ll be seeing Charlie and the Chocolate Factory this weekend. I’m trying to go in with a clear mind but I still have the sour taste of Big Fish in my mouth. Luckily Johnny Depp is a damn genius, so there’s that. I prefer independent films because they are more often different and well-written, but I also love seeing a highly anticpated, major studio release the weekend it opens. I succumb to the hype, get butter on the popcorn and hope to like what I see. No pen and paper, just hand in bag.

I took this great video outsdide with the camera. It is footage of our neighbor’s dogs. One is a little fluffy thing and the other is a weiner dog named Tino. Our neighbor is an effiminate fella and so when he says Tino it sound really queeny. Anyway, I had gone to this video class thing this weekend and was trying out the tips I learned. The fluffy dog is all jumping up into the camera, but the weiner dog gets camera shy and runs off. I finally spot him standing on top of atall pile of brush rooting around. About that time my neighbor comes out and so I say, "Hey, I’m filming your dog, I hope that is okay." He says yeah, so I go over and film Tino licking a wrapper that once contained food.

My neighbor said, "Tino, what are you doing?" And told him I thought he found some food. And my neighbor said, "Tino. He’s a hound dog."

That is where my video ended. I think it is so funny the way he says "he’s a hound dog," because no he’s not! The video is like 23 MB long or something or I’d upload it. If you want it email me and I’ll see what I can do.

And now, I leave you with this: When you aim shoot for the moon, so if you miss you’ll fall amongst the stars. (I wrote that on the folder I took with me to Girls’ State in high school.)