So I've started sewing again. I mean, technically I haven't actually started sewing, because sewing is a process that takes forever. I'm worried I can't produce a decent dress, because I'm not a very talented sewer. Whatever. It makes me feel productive, when in fact my life is utterly unproductive.
We planted some dill in the back yard today, which is wonderful. I love dill. The smell of it makes me happy, it really does. I find it uplifting.
I think I'm done for the day. It's a little pathetic. I'm just..... not particularly interested in writing just now. I miss Andy.
-Rachael
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
My New Goals
So I'm still not in Utah. I'm beginning to fear this project will be an enormous bust. Rather than worry about it constantly, I'm trying to develop new hobbies, which will (hopefully) give me a sense of accomplishment and purpose, rather than dwelling on the fairly dismal state of my life as it is right now. And it is dismal, let me assure you.
I want to be a truly accomplished knitter, I want to be a badass rock climber, I want to lean to play-boat and become fearless when in a kayak on a river, and I want to join a roller derby team. Incidentally I also want to practice writing and actually produce some halfway decent fiction and get back on task with my violin.
Right off the bat, the biggest problem I have is that I have no money. At all, whatsoever. What I really need is to get out to Utah, so I can get a job, because if I get one here, I'll never leave and then I'll really hate myself and no amount of hauling myself up a rock wall or knitting adorable stuffed octopi will be able to help. Although the sea creatures will help a little.
Maybe what I really need is a sugar daddy....
Any takers?
-Rachael
I want to be a truly accomplished knitter, I want to be a badass rock climber, I want to lean to play-boat and become fearless when in a kayak on a river, and I want to join a roller derby team. Incidentally I also want to practice writing and actually produce some halfway decent fiction and get back on task with my violin.
Right off the bat, the biggest problem I have is that I have no money. At all, whatsoever. What I really need is to get out to Utah, so I can get a job, because if I get one here, I'll never leave and then I'll really hate myself and no amount of hauling myself up a rock wall or knitting adorable stuffed octopi will be able to help. Although the sea creatures will help a little.
Maybe what I really need is a sugar daddy....
Any takers?
-Rachael
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Idle Hands and Active Stomachs
So I've just gotten over the stomach flu. Five or so days of complaining, sickly, petulant stomach. Nothing better.
Usually, I try to schedule my day as far away from the house as I can; I don't get anything done when I just laze about the house, so I try to get out and about. Since yesterday it's been snowing, so I haven't even showered today, let alone left the house. As I sit here, eating a really delectable combination of foods which have actually taken my stomach back several days to my delightful mid-flu state of airline-inspired quease, I've been trying to think of the best way of proceeding. I've been looking for an internship in Utah, but that's coming up somewhat short. I'll apply for the couple of ideas I've found, but I don't think I'll get them, and I think the Lord is telling me to abandon this internship quest. I need to just find a job or something, and get out there ASAP, because this is getting old.
In the meantime, I'm spending time at the library, knitting (I really do need to order more wool) and growing progressively more lustful over any and all fabric I find online, as I cruise craft sites. I'm like a sexual predator or something, only instead of children, I sit around in my hovel drooling over printed cotton.
Sloth, lust, gluttony all in the one post! What is a girl to do?
Tomorrow, I think I'll play my violin and work out rather more than I normally do. That'll be nice.
-Rachael
ps-I totally OWN for using the word "Petulant." I OWN.
Usually, I try to schedule my day as far away from the house as I can; I don't get anything done when I just laze about the house, so I try to get out and about. Since yesterday it's been snowing, so I haven't even showered today, let alone left the house. As I sit here, eating a really delectable combination of foods which have actually taken my stomach back several days to my delightful mid-flu state of airline-inspired quease, I've been trying to think of the best way of proceeding. I've been looking for an internship in Utah, but that's coming up somewhat short. I'll apply for the couple of ideas I've found, but I don't think I'll get them, and I think the Lord is telling me to abandon this internship quest. I need to just find a job or something, and get out there ASAP, because this is getting old.
In the meantime, I'm spending time at the library, knitting (I really do need to order more wool) and growing progressively more lustful over any and all fabric I find online, as I cruise craft sites. I'm like a sexual predator or something, only instead of children, I sit around in my hovel drooling over printed cotton.
Sloth, lust, gluttony all in the one post! What is a girl to do?
Tomorrow, I think I'll play my violin and work out rather more than I normally do. That'll be nice.
-Rachael
ps-I totally OWN for using the word "Petulant." I OWN.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Getting Back On The Horse
The funny thing about sayings is that no matter how trite and overused they can be, they can still prove very true. Today, I'm trying for the 400th time to get back on the proverbial horse. Now, I don't particularly like horses. I don't like riding them, I don't like interacting with them, I don't even particularly like looking at them. They are beautiful, I freely admit that, but if I had a choice between watching a horse and, say, a pack of healthy predator animals in the middle of a hunt, big cats, wolves, sharks, whatever, I'm going to pick the predator animals. Actually, most any animals. I don't really like horses.
I think that's what I'm feeling about today, too. I've gotten into a slump, yet again, and am trying to get back into the habit of getting legitimate work done, a task which grows considerably more and more difficult as time goes on. Even checking my email is difficult now. I've spent so long avoiding doing it, that I don't even want to look at it, let alone the myriad errands and other such work I actually need to do to get back in the game.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not a truly functional person. I worry that the moment I get off track, I slip far more than any normal person. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but that's kind of how I feel right now. On the upside, I know what I need to do to keep myself focused. I just need to be more dedicated. Starting now. Now. 123now.
Or tomorrow...
-Rachael
I think that's what I'm feeling about today, too. I've gotten into a slump, yet again, and am trying to get back into the habit of getting legitimate work done, a task which grows considerably more and more difficult as time goes on. Even checking my email is difficult now. I've spent so long avoiding doing it, that I don't even want to look at it, let alone the myriad errands and other such work I actually need to do to get back in the game.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not a truly functional person. I worry that the moment I get off track, I slip far more than any normal person. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but that's kind of how I feel right now. On the upside, I know what I need to do to keep myself focused. I just need to be more dedicated. Starting now. Now. 123now.
Or tomorrow...
-Rachael
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Apologies to the Masses
So I've been shockingly negligent in writing this blog, as per usual. For a while, I wasn't updating because I kept hoping I'd be heading for Salt Lake. As it turns out, I'm not going any time soon.
When I got home, my uncle died, and my parents headed to Scotland for the funeral. I sat on my progressively fatter and fatter ass for a while, and now I'm strongly considering heading back to DialAmerica, to make some cash while I'm here.
This means, I'm going to start getting up early to get on two busses, to go to Greentree, and sit at a desk with a computer with puppies and flowers for a background, and sit in one of lovely squashy rotating chairs that go up and down when you pull a lever, and begin every conversation with "Good afternoon, thank you for calling the Victoria's Secret credit card verification center" for hours a day! Voluntarily! Hooray for Pittsburgh!
-Rachael
When I got home, my uncle died, and my parents headed to Scotland for the funeral. I sat on my progressively fatter and fatter ass for a while, and now I'm strongly considering heading back to DialAmerica, to make some cash while I'm here.
This means, I'm going to start getting up early to get on two busses, to go to Greentree, and sit at a desk with a computer with puppies and flowers for a background, and sit in one of lovely squashy rotating chairs that go up and down when you pull a lever, and begin every conversation with "Good afternoon, thank you for calling the Victoria's Secret credit card verification center" for hours a day! Voluntarily! Hooray for Pittsburgh!
-Rachael
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Great Migration (part 1)
So I'm in Pittsburgh.
No it's not quite Utah, but come on! One step at a time people! One step at a time!
Let me tell you a story about my trip to Pittsburgh. It's a long one. Well, not exactly, but it was pretty miserable. I got to the airport an hour and a half early like you're supposed to, having checked out the Southwest Airlines website regarding their shipping policies for bicycles. My father and I both checked, and neither of us could glean any more information other than that there was a fifty dollar shipping fee. "Alright," we said, no problem fifty bucks sounds reasonable.
So I got to the airport with my bicycle, and tried to check the thing in. The woman behind the counter was this totally cranky Asian bitch, who totally dispassionately told me that there was no way I could get my bicycle onto the plane. No way, no how. Totally Emerald City style "No way, no how." I was told I needed a special box for said bicycle.
Apparently, it was a short cab ride away at the Fed Ex store. A $40.00 cab ride away. I get there, and they do not sell the boxes I need. I burst into tears. The woman behind the counter tells me that they can give me two very large boxes to cut up and tape together. I get them back to the airport, and start hacking away. I finally get the bike into the (very) makeshift box.
At this point, however, I have missed the plane. The next flight is at 4:30. It is 11:00. That's 5 1/2 hours. To sit. At the airport.
5 1/2 hours later, I get on the plane. I fly to Baltimore. I get there, and I don't have anywhere to go for three more hours. I get something to eat, and in a state of serendipity, Baltimore is really REALLY into Bloody Marys. So I have a couple. And some crab cakes. And it is amazing.
I get on my last plane at 8:25 (14 1/2 hours since I got up, 11 1/2 hours since I got to the airport). The woman next to me is gassier than I care to think about, but I eventually black out.
I get home (finally) at 11:00 at night. 14 hours since I got to the airport. 14 hours to make what should be an hour and a half flight.
Dear God in heaven. All I can say is at least I'm not in a fucking covered wagon. Worse yet, pulling a handcart.
-Rachael
No it's not quite Utah, but come on! One step at a time people! One step at a time!
Let me tell you a story about my trip to Pittsburgh. It's a long one. Well, not exactly, but it was pretty miserable. I got to the airport an hour and a half early like you're supposed to, having checked out the Southwest Airlines website regarding their shipping policies for bicycles. My father and I both checked, and neither of us could glean any more information other than that there was a fifty dollar shipping fee. "Alright," we said, no problem fifty bucks sounds reasonable.
So I got to the airport with my bicycle, and tried to check the thing in. The woman behind the counter was this totally cranky Asian bitch, who totally dispassionately told me that there was no way I could get my bicycle onto the plane. No way, no how. Totally Emerald City style "No way, no how." I was told I needed a special box for said bicycle.
Apparently, it was a short cab ride away at the Fed Ex store. A $40.00 cab ride away. I get there, and they do not sell the boxes I need. I burst into tears. The woman behind the counter tells me that they can give me two very large boxes to cut up and tape together. I get them back to the airport, and start hacking away. I finally get the bike into the (very) makeshift box.
At this point, however, I have missed the plane. The next flight is at 4:30. It is 11:00. That's 5 1/2 hours. To sit. At the airport.
5 1/2 hours later, I get on the plane. I fly to Baltimore. I get there, and I don't have anywhere to go for three more hours. I get something to eat, and in a state of serendipity, Baltimore is really REALLY into Bloody Marys. So I have a couple. And some crab cakes. And it is amazing.
I get on my last plane at 8:25 (14 1/2 hours since I got up, 11 1/2 hours since I got to the airport). The woman next to me is gassier than I care to think about, but I eventually black out.
I get home (finally) at 11:00 at night. 14 hours since I got to the airport. 14 hours to make what should be an hour and a half flight.
Dear God in heaven. All I can say is at least I'm not in a fucking covered wagon. Worse yet, pulling a handcart.
-Rachael
The Apiarist
I think I'm going to begin this blog with an explanation of the title and the web address.
I'll start with the web address: This blog is designed to detail any and all (mis)adventures I encounter over the course of producing my Division III project for Hampshire College. For those of you lacking in intimate knowledge of Hampshire's structure, (the better part of the world, I'm sure) a Division III is a year-long project designed to wrap up a student's college career. It's sort of like a senior thesis.
My self-designed major deals with the intersection between politics and religion. Most of my work has been dealing with extremist religious groups, particularly from a Western or American perspective. I really enjoy studying political Christianity and cults, so for my Division III I thought I would study the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and a spinoff group, the Fundamentalist Church of blah blah blah.
I'm headed to Utah at some point for a sociological portion of the project. I'm not there yet, but I figured now is as good a time as any to start this blog, which I hope will not suck.
The name of the blog means "beekeeper." The reason I've picked it is that it is the primary symbol of the Mormon Church. The word in the "language" the Book of Mormon is "written in," called "Reformed Egyptian" (so many modifying quotes) for honeybee. The Mormons initially wanted to name the Utah Territory, an area significantly larger than modern day Utah, Deseret, but the United States were having none of it.
The reason I'm calling myself "the beekeper" is intended to be somewhat critical of Mormon theology. One of the primary precepts of Mormonsim is patriarchy. The Mormon church believes in an all-male priesthood who controls access to God. The church is heavly male dominated, a fact which is blown rather out of proportion in FLDS communities. I find Mormon theology troubling for many reasons, but this one is the easiest to pinpoint.
I've been considering getting myself a tattoo of a sexy beekeeper on my shoulder, to remind me that sexuality and femininity are important, if not divine, and that dogmatism and patriarchy can never overcome them. Hence "The Apiarist."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is about as serious as I ever hope to be on the internet.
Wish me luck,
-Rachael
I'll start with the web address: This blog is designed to detail any and all (mis)adventures I encounter over the course of producing my Division III project for Hampshire College. For those of you lacking in intimate knowledge of Hampshire's structure, (the better part of the world, I'm sure) a Division III is a year-long project designed to wrap up a student's college career. It's sort of like a senior thesis.
My self-designed major deals with the intersection between politics and religion. Most of my work has been dealing with extremist religious groups, particularly from a Western or American perspective. I really enjoy studying political Christianity and cults, so for my Division III I thought I would study the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, and a spinoff group, the Fundamentalist Church of blah blah blah.
I'm headed to Utah at some point for a sociological portion of the project. I'm not there yet, but I figured now is as good a time as any to start this blog, which I hope will not suck.
The name of the blog means "beekeeper." The reason I've picked it is that it is the primary symbol of the Mormon Church. The word in the "language" the Book of Mormon is "written in," called "Reformed Egyptian" (so many modifying quotes) for honeybee. The Mormons initially wanted to name the Utah Territory, an area significantly larger than modern day Utah, Deseret, but the United States were having none of it.
The reason I'm calling myself "the beekeper" is intended to be somewhat critical of Mormon theology. One of the primary precepts of Mormonsim is patriarchy. The Mormon church believes in an all-male priesthood who controls access to God. The church is heavly male dominated, a fact which is blown rather out of proportion in FLDS communities. I find Mormon theology troubling for many reasons, but this one is the easiest to pinpoint.
I've been considering getting myself a tattoo of a sexy beekeeper on my shoulder, to remind me that sexuality and femininity are important, if not divine, and that dogmatism and patriarchy can never overcome them. Hence "The Apiarist."
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is about as serious as I ever hope to be on the internet.
Wish me luck,
-Rachael
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