You know that scene in Being John Malkovitch where he jumps into his own head, and it’s like he’s in a fun house infinite mirror setup?
Right. That’s me today, only female.
Blogging to recommence when I can pull my head out of my… head.
One of the unexpected benefits of having a Google account is the opportunity to customize the news page. I’m sure many people, if they’ve actually gone ahead and set up a personalized news page, have chosen keywords that are relevant and thoughtful.
I, however, have chosen single-word searches, like “goofy” and “buggy” and “odd” and “frisky” to see what I get. Most often, it’s page 98 stuff (or sports, especially with “odd” for some reason). But it’s fun. Otherwise I wouldn’t know that a fire-engine chased a suspected drunk driver in Mount Pleasant, Wisconsin. (It turned out to be a medical emergency, and the driver was taken to the hospital.)
And this morning, “buggy” gives me three different uses of the word: “Microsoft to re-issue buggy security patch,” “Skeeters driving residents buggy,” and “Child dies after Amish buggy crash.” (It’s not all fun and games.)
I’m not sure why I like to read this news that’s not at the top of the heap. I don’t live anywhere near where these small stories are being reported. I don’t really like our local paper, because they mostly just recycle stuff that I’ve already seen online.
Perhaps, though, I’m not entirely alone. Wendy at Creative Ink notes an article in the LA Times (free reg.) about the rise of small-town presses. For me, the money quote:
“There are more titles than ever, and ironically, more readers,” Steffens said. “The Internet has been great for creating communities based on interest. But you cannot go onto the Web and find out what’s happening in these small towns because no one cares what’s happening there — except for the people who live there.”
I would add “and random strangers on the internet.”
Lie on the bed under the moving ceiling fan.
Keep your eyes open, but let your mind wander.
Watch the fan stop, change speed, and go backwards — all without you doing anything but (not quite) watching it.
Ponder the implications for “eyewitness” testimony, or art appreciation, or perhaps even motion pictures.
Wake up an hour later and then blog about it.
Yesterday, Plagioclase and I went to a fair. We walked and sat and looked and ate and rode the bus and walked and spent money and came home. I’d say we walked a couple of miles over the course of six hours.
I felt great the whole time. No real aches or pains, and every time it seemed that I might need to sit down, we did. It probably helped that the weather was fabulous for a fair — not too hot, and a nice breeze to boot. Even the crowds of babymommies and their rude stroller actions1 didn’t faze me.
When I got up today, I hurt a little, but not like I have been, and not in my usual places… but as the day has progressed, I’m starting to feel the same old way. What I’m wondering is: was it the change of scenery? The limited amount of chair time? The change in seating? The weather? I don’t know, but I sure wish I could figure it out. It was nice to feel normal, and I’d like to do more of it.
What I need: a fenced yard and a doggie door.
What I have: a dog that wants to be on the other side of the door, no matter which side of the door he is on.
