megfowler.com

April 7, 2008

i’m not dead. i just play dead on the internet.

Filed under: angsty, really not a super crucial topic, ocean lung — meg @ 11:31 am

Yes, I promise, I’m still alive.

My lack of motivation to post has dug in about as deeply as my cough, though, which has led to the longest run of silence here since I started my blog.

Oops.

Pneumonia isn’t THAT big a deal. Really. The word freaks people out, but the reality is doable.

Although I still have it, and that’s more than a little irritating.

Anyway.

How are you? How have things been going? How are the kids? The wife/husband? Seen any good movies lately?

Right.

What have I been up to? Well. Other than hacking up a lung, I’ve been busy with work and the occasional hockey game (which I’ll be writing about later today) and doing a little bit of reorganizing/decorating/throwing massive amounts of stuff into the garbage around my house to slough a little dead weight off of my life.

I’d like to be working on the OTHER dead weight, too, but if I so much as move my arms too quickly, I’m coughing.

Charming.

But man, am I restless. Is it being sick? Is it that my birthday is coming up?

Is it that I’m CRAZY??

I’m not sure.

But enough about me. How are YOU?

March 25, 2008

still.

Filed under: angsty, really not a super crucial topic — meg @ 6:57 pm

I know, I know. I should suck it up and write.

But I’m so ACHY. And whiny.

Fever still up, coughing on the scene, and chills like you would not believe (even in fleece pants, with the fireplace UP.)

I can’t. blog. coherently.

But it’s coming, I promise.

March 24, 2008

dhdlkjhflakjdhfaoiufhlajf.

Filed under: angsty, really not a super crucial topic — meg @ 5:10 pm

Fever is now down to 101 F. Not bad.

Don’t want to write a post about something special when my nose is running down my face, though.

Love to all. Back soon.

March 2, 2008

rip van meggle.

Filed under: angsty, really not a super crucial topic — meg @ 12:55 pm

I was tired.

So very tired.

So very tired that by the time Friday night rolled around, not only was I sending out emails with spelling mistakes and non sequiturs, I overtipped a takeout delivery guy who disoriented me with shiny coins, and fell asleep curled up like a donut in a chair by 8 pm.

Tired.

When I woke up two hours later to Catherine’s gentle suggestion that perhaps my bed might be a better spot for me to snore, I was impossibly confused and even MORE tired.

Which is why I was surprised to wake up at 8 am the next morning, completely unable to sleep in.

What?

I think I’m getting old.

Next thing you know, I’ll be having tea and toast at 7:45 pm (midway through watching Alex Trebek, before the ever-stressful Final Jeopardy!, and crawling into bed with my shawl to read my “stories.”

In other news, I’m beginning my Annual March Sinus Infection with nearly clockwork precision. My face feels like someone punched me in my sleep (which may well have happened, Catherine can be violent when she sleepwalks) and I’m clogged and weepy like a bad pore.

Which might have contributed to being so tired.

Someone get me my shawl.

January 17, 2008

i don’t even have a good title. or maybe i’ll call it “greensleeves”!

Filed under: think, angsty — meg @ 2:07 pm

I’m in a bit of a state.

Not a bit of a state as in Rhode Island, mind you.

I’m just really up in the air and boggled and slightly unsettled and I’m not totally sure why. Yet, that is.

It makes me loathe to blog because I figure everything coming from my keyboard right now sounds inane or ill-thought-out. Which is not to say that this isn’t NORMALLY the case, but it’s actually irritating me right now.

I want to say something worthwhile.

But what excites me and gets me going doesn’t really seem to be something I can articulate right now. Or at least I can’t articulate it to the point that it will sound anything but half-baked or half-argued or half-considered.

And that means something is up.

I find that, right before I make any large change in my life, I always have to go through this period of uberfrustration. I get inordinately angry at mistakes I make. I discredit good things I’m already doing because I’m not doing everything perfectly (not that I could, but there you go.)

At times like this, I rail at people for speaking cliches at (note: not “to”) me, or giving the standard advice people give to anyone going through a transition:

Don’t be so hard on yourself! Nobody is perfect!

Things happen when you’re not looking for them to happen!

Everything will work out in the end!

Just keep trying!

You need to not worry about it so much!

And it’s not that I don’t KNOW all those things (actually, the second one is complete crap, I’ll discount it without any further consideration), but I’m one of those people who hears “Just relax!” and feels my blood pressure rise.

Yep. A spaz.

It doesn’t mean I’m frustrated every moment of the day or week or month. Or that I don’t go merrily about doing most of the things I normally do. Or that I’m not moving forward with every good intention and a big dose of passion. It just means that there’s something else lurking right below my skin that isn’t, you know, a tick.

On one hand, it’s awesome, because it means I’m on the edge of something major.

On the other hand, it sucks horribly, because it means I’m on the edge.

I want to process it all in a million ways, but the permanence of words intimidates me. What if I say something and sound serious when I’m not? What if my questions hurt someone? What if I explore something and totally change my mind?

I think the only big thing I don’t have trouble saying at this point is “I love you.”

So will that do for now?

January 11, 2008

friday crabby list: not what you expected but roll with it if you don’t want me to pinch you.

Filed under: stuff, angsty, listy — meg @ 3:39 pm

I know.

THIS IS NOT PROTOCOL.

This is supposed to be a love list!

But folks… I gotta be honest. I just don’t have it in me today.

I realize that the love list is to help me and everyone else shake off any bleah/whiny/snarly/crabby attitude before the weekend hits. I suppose I should really persist against the forces of MEH that are holding me back and fight the good fight.

After all, I’m a lucky and blessed girl.

Then again, I’m also allowed to have crap days now and then.

That’s why I think I’m going to do something a little different and clear my decks of all the crabbies by being… well… crabby. And never using the term “crabbies” again. Ew.

Seriously. Ew.

Ahem.

So without further explanation — because, really, it’s FINE — the Crabby List.

THINGS IRKING ME

Automated response phone systems that sound like really smarmy people you would not hang out with, had you any choice in the matter. People who say “Sorry about that.” when you refuse their suggestion of “Did you say you want to connect to Monkey Tuna?”

Seinfeld quoters

The valley in the middle of my bed that claims me every night WHOOSH!

The fluorescent-bulb like pastiness of my face

People who call someone who is larger than a size 6 “full-figured”. Oh yeah? I call you “full-idiot”

People who don’t stop at crosswalks, ESPECIALLY in the rain because HOW IMPORTANT IS YOUR SCHEDULE, NO I INSIST YOU GO FIRST AND I DIDN’T NEED THAT LIMB, NO WORRIES!

Constant toe-stubbing

Reality television in general

How quickly organic produce fails. As my roommate once said, the bananas are like “HI EAT ME EAT ME! Oh, too late.”

Too-short pants

Last night’s bus driver, who was so startlingly rude that he almost killed my I JUST SAW ELVIS COSTELLO IN WHOLE FOODS OMG buzz (not quite, though.)

People who obsess more than I do about finding me “that special someone.” Stop! How do you know what I think is special? Yoinks.

How ALL air fresheners smell like someone’s grandma bathed in Lysol and apple juice.

The rip in my jeans. Drafty!

That itchy spot on my back I can’t reach because of my short flipper arms. And while I’m at it, short arms. Flailflailflail.

People who obsess about Britney Spears and perpetuate the drama by not taking their eyes off the whole thing. As soon as the media stops creating their own tragedies and then “wondering what went wrong” maybe I’ll be able to take them seriously. Nah, that’s not gonna happen either.

The price of the damn shoes.

“Pap” as an abbreviation for “paparazzi”. Eeek. Couldn’t you do “razzi” or something?

People who hate Top 40 just to be cool.

My own annoying weirdness about getting my hair cut. Who cares? It’s just hair! You are not a supermodel! Few people will even notice. Get ye a grip!

Larry King. Always. Forever. Dear mercy. Suspenders SNAP SNAP!

The really cold, bucketesque rain that falls when I’m just trying to get somewhere and look like something other than a wet kitten.

Hormones. Enough said. Grrrr.

Fall Out Boy

People who say, “Must be nice” whenever something good happens to you. WELL, YES, THANKS. IT IS.

Anything used to measure popularity on the Internet. You’ll see why next week. Sigh.

Gummi candies that have gone rock-hard.

Most chatspeak abbreviations, especially used by those over the age of 30. And if you’re over 40, we should really chat. And not like this: LOL UR BN SO MEAN.

***

And you?

I recommend you not follow my path and choose a Love List instead, as I normally would.

But if you gotta vent… go right ahead.

December 27, 2007

but the latte made a graceful arc for that a second.

Filed under: random, angsty — meg @ 8:30 am

I’ve fallen a thousand times in a thousand places, but it manages to surprise me still.

I was trundling (I don’t use that word nearly enough) innocently down the hill to work, latte in hand, new iPod Touch playing nothing less than Kenny Loggins’ “Footloose” as I prepared mentally for two days of busyness and mental fatigue.

I was wearing FULL SHOES… yes, complete boots, warm and practical and Mom-approved.

I was being CAREFUL… it snowed last night, so things were a bit “fluid” out there.

But it didn’t help, evidently, because I hit an icy patch and was airborne in seconds flat.

Which is also how I landed on my knee, which caused my jeans to rip and the sidewalk to skin me right open. I’m hobbling now.

I won’t even mention how stiff my neck just got.

Oh, and the graceful latte is now just half-full, and it was mere seconds old.

I’m a little grrrr right now, so I will be doing things to try and cheer myself up today.

What a start back to the whole thing….

December 12, 2007

reason no. 3,784 why i’m single.

Filed under: random, angsty — meg @ 12:13 pm

I’m not easily startled.

I’m one of those “keep a cool head” people who can wade into emergencies and stare down creeps and walk dark alleys without seeing a boogeyman behind every dumpster.

However.

Spiders? Turn me into a complete and total KNOB.

I see one — well, okay, a spider bigger than say, the palm of my (very small! very small!) hand, not just a mini spider fooling around on a wall, because hey! hi. it’s cool you’re here, I understand our ecosystems need you, just stay out of my pants — and my brain goes absolutely blank.

I want to be ANYWHERE BUT THERE.

Which is essentially what happened in my bathroom early this morning when I came rolling in with my happy white towels, ready for a hot shower.

There he was.

On the shower curtain.

A behemoth (okay, not really, but he wasn’t tiny AND I DON’T CARE! IT WAS SHOCKING AT 5:45 AM!) of a spider, just waiting to torture me with his very presence.

I made an immediate and involuntary squeak toy noise, and shrank back against the wall.

He was blocking my Portal to Cleanliness, and I was not impressed.

I got a magazine — Avril Lavigne was on the cover, I hoped this would help — and steeled myself to take a whack at him, but every time I moved to do it, he moved enough to startle me into dropping Avril on the ground. And there was nothing solid behind him to help the magazine out, either, so my hits lacked little punch when they actually connected.

Sigh.

That’s how I ended up not showering, pulling my hair back into a ponytail, and doing my makeup bent in from the doorway, one eye trained on the interloper at all times. I’m aware of how ridiculous that sounds, but I literally could not force myself to stay in the room with him.

Finally, he made a hardcore break for it, and that’s when I screamed.

Screamed.

At 6:15 am.

It was at this moment that three things happened:

    1. I felt like a COMPLETE TOOL and started to cry. CRY. Partly because of the spider and partly because I WAS BEING A TOOL.

    2. Catherine came flying out of her room (she was due up any minute, it’s okay!) to see if I was injured in some way.

    3. Dean heard me scream upstairs, and texted Catherine (who he thought was the screamer) to lie and say she woke up the baby (The baby was already awake, as was Dean.)

Here’s where the story improves, mostly because Catherine has a morbid fear of mice and understands the Power of Irrational Panic in Enclosed Spaces with Unpleasant Creatures. She would do no better than I did, if it had been a mouse.

(Which it wasn’t. It was something much smaller, of course. Did I mention that I’m a tool?)

Fortunately, Catherine is NOT afraid of spiders — a power I’d been trying to access for 30 minutes by whimpering in the direction of her door (forgetting, of course that Catherine sleeps like the dead.)

Once she figured out why I was crying, she went straight into the bathroom, shut the door, and less than a minute later, I heard the toilet flush. Then she came out, patted me on the back, and it was over.

Well, except for the fact that I still felt like a tool.

It didn’t take me long to get past it once I got to work and focused on other things, but part of me continues to flail because I never wanted to be one of those girls who was scared of stuff.

Especially a screamy one.

And here’s the worst part — when I’d have a cabin full of terrified girls gathered around a much larger spider at camp, I wouldn’t hesitate to actually PICK THE DAMN THING UP and put it outside, or dispatch of it in a less poetic and earth-friendly manner with my stowed-away and incredibly heavy copy of the Fall Preview Vogue.

I was the rescuer! Not the rescuee!

I’ve become a screamy girl. LATE IN LIFE.

I think this is more depressing than the day I realized that Andrew Ridgeley was never really going to have a comeback.

And I’m still not over that.

Sigh.

November 4, 2007

oh, and in other news…

Filed under: stuff, angsty — meg @ 1:34 am

Back to the doctor.

Sinus infection. Severe.

What? That makes me cough?

Yes.

That explains the fever and aches?

Yes.

That explains feeling like bleeeeeahhh?

Yes.

So what do I do?

$70 in antibiotics should be a nice start.

Oh, awesome.

October 29, 2007

is it day 15? gah.

Filed under: stuff, angsty — meg @ 8:29 am

Still coughing, still congested, still bleah.

And I was such a good girl and went to the doctor this weekend. As my reward, I got a fairly odd/angry/disturbing physician at the drop-in clinic, and now I could have pneumonia, or bronchitis, or a bad cold… or maybe just a big nose?

What?

Any kind of antibiotics you want in particular? Do you have a favourite?

What?

I know, I’m not sure either.

BUT I AM SO DONE.

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