Arisen

 

Well good morning readers, happy Sunday Daylight Saving Time, I’m still waking up even though it’s almost noon. Michael is grousing over some strange, new(?) burn marks on our kitchen floor—where did these come from, I haven’t dropped any hot things on the floor, is this place haunted, or is something spiritual going on, I mean Easter is quickly approaching and you never know. Me, I’m just snapping photos of yellow rulers leaning on that rose trellis I had erected when I first moved in here 23 years ago. Funny, nothing seems to grow on it, save that unidentified vine that was mistakenly ripped out by a yard cleaning crew many years ago.

I missed the monthly meeting of my Smith pals, woke up late and had to get my call into mom, where we discussed, among other things, how to discern a “jaundiced” view from a skeptical one. We much preferred siding with the skeptics, I mean who wants to be bitter and resentful, certainly not me! I’ve been able to open up to mom about these very strong feelings I’ve been having over the past four months that there is conflict all around me, people weaving agendas in a massive PR campaign, and I’m just curious if Paul Werth communications is getting their fair share of all the fun everyone seems to be having? Ah, Paul Werth, just another of a long list of local companies around here who rejected me when I came knocking, resume in hand, looking for employment, to make an honest living, nope, rejection was all I got. But wait! Stop! No jaundice today, my liver is fine (fingers crossed).

So not much to report today, the Blue Jackets lost last night to the St. Louis Blues, making me now seriously wonder if we are “tanking” on purpose just to ensure the top pick in this year’s draft. Who likes to think ownership and management have an agenda, but oh yes, we know they do. Actually reader(s), I’m always pointing a finger at everyone else’s agendas, maybe I ask myself what’s MY agenda, for certainly I have one. I guess I’m figuring it out, with the help of Q-FM and Classical 101, with some Pandora repetitions steadying my cooking and clean-up in the kitchen. I’m slowly trying to work in some books, but that’s a pain-staking process that tries my patience. I guess my agenda-setting is all about selection and timing, if that makes any sense? Oh whatever, I feel uncomfortable talking about this, kinda like what it feels to look at your own eyes in the mirror—don’t gaze too long, it starts to hurt.

But I am giving some serious thought as to how I earn some scratch in this town. Everyone is getting a bone except me, why can’t I figure out how to get hired, or better yet why do I refuse to let Google put ads on my “art” here on my blog, which no one reads anyway? Cue up the poor, pitiful me music, get thee to the kitchen Melissa, your escape from the conflict (if NYT Cooking behaves). Repetitio Est Mater Studiorum, Falter’s bacon, eggs and hash browns for brunch, Chicken Schnitzel for dinner, with rice, and arugula salad. Yawn.

OK, time to scoot, perhaps I’ll write more later. Maybe share with you my ideas for a new (not yet titled) piece of art I’m working on, a take on Genesis Steve Jobs might like, but the Columbus City Schools might ban. Art of The Insane, isn’t it interesting, or just “Manic Hounds Artwork, LLC.” A non-profit, of course. Later folks.