Friday, March 27, 2009

Emotion: TGIF

It's Friday! (Well, it's Friday here. If it's not Friday where you are, I hope you still get weekends.) So, how do you feel? Take a moment to express some feelings. How has your week been? Are you deeply relieved it's over? Or are you heartbroken because it was the best week you've ever had, and you're sorry it's over? Or maybe you don't care because every day is like another in the apathetic desert that defines your life?

Friday's the time to let it all out, so go ahead and have some feelings!

30 comments:

Ms. Fettleston said...

Dear Ms. Mira,

Good morning, dear. I have had a lovely week. I finished a set of blue baby socks I was knitting for my neighbor's new baby boy. He's so sweet, just a little dear. I always think it's nice for a baby to have homemade things to wear, don't you? It's so much more cozy.

I feel quite content and peaceful this morning. I am so enjoying chatting with you young folks here.

I have a lovely day planned today. I am treating myself to jam on my toast. Then, I'm going to the park with a friend. I'm quite looking forward to it.

Have a nice day, dear.

Sincerely,

Ms. Fettleston

DESTINY said...

People wish I felt for them. They wish I felt remorse and compassion. They rail against me for my heartlessness.

But I can not afford sympathy. I must do as I must. I am, I can not feel. If I felt, if I had a heart, it would hinder my work. Events must unfold. I can not afford to feel.

Fin said...

Someone wants to kill me. At least, they wrote: WITCHES ...and a little dead bitch, on my garage door. The rest of my kind in the neighborhood just got WITCHES. And I don't know that Mom and Aunt Minka's "No Violence" policy is really the best way to approach things.

Right now though, I'm at Oscar's house and I couldn't be miserable if I really tried.

Scruffy said...

Woof. Woof. Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof.

Woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof, woof.

Woof, woof.

Goran Njiric said...

I remember when Friday/viernes used to have meaning. Though I never actually did work aside from a bit of design for clothing and light installations, it was the day I could go out and find people to drink with.

Now it's just Day-Somenumber. And it passes exactly like Day Somenumber-plus-one will and Day Somenomber-minus-one did. I'm doing nothing important, but everyone else is working hard around me. No drinks allowed on the ship.

I'll be glad when we get to port. Leave is a minimum of a week per previous month of time on the ship. By then I'll be in a new place. There should be all kinds of exciting things to do. Finally, no more boredom.

Goran Njiric said...

Fin - Personally, I walk a path of nonviolence, mostly because I probably couldn't hurt anyone if I tried. But, I think one of the best self defense items you can have is a little tactical baton. The ones we have here come out with enough force to propel us around in freefall if necessary.

They have reach over a knife, and they're not likely to actually kill anyone if you just hit and run with them.

But if the folks come after you with a gun, try to distract them and get away, and don't scare them. Getting shot isn't fun. It's not an immediate death sentence like they have in films, but I doubt one of your attackers will call a medic for you like mine did.

Good luck, stay safe.

Fin said...

We're strong so I assume that they'll just try to beat me. They didn't use guns when they kidnapped Oscar and I, but that's because they knew our weakness. The only one of them we've identified is a regular nut job. I think she probably killed woodland creatures when she was a child. They just don't know that I'm stronger than them. At least, I should be. Maybe there's something in the water and we're mutating.

Goran, you have no idea how helpful you've just been.

Mira, thanks for this blog

Goran Njiric said...

Any time. I do what I can.

Marilyn Peake said...

Japanese Heian Period
Early 11th Century

How do I feel? Kyuzo once wrote the following poem to me, in deep blue ink on a textured sheet of lavender paper into which the scent of plum and spice had been burned:

Streams of golden sunlight pour through bamboo, quenching garden flowers.
Ice crystals grow colder upon my sleeves, but do not freeze my heart.

Then he ripped out my heart. I now tear out my once beautiful hair and wander through memories of blood. How do I feel? You do not want to know. Be happy that you are not a woman in the Heian Period of Japan.

- The Lady of the Plum Blossoms, main character in the short story, Tiger in the Plum Blossoms by Marilyn Peake, published in Twisted Tails: An Anthology to Surprise and Delight.

Anonymous said...

I feel fine. Thanks for asking.

Anonymous said...

I am fed up. FED UP. The tubas. They follow me EVERYWHERE. PLease God just tell the tubas to LEAVE ME ALONE.

Chicken Little said...

Boy oh boy. I'm glad I'm not a woman in China. I am. I don't know how I feel. Is there something wrong with me because I don't know how I feel? I think I feel sick. I have a headache. I think I might have brain cancer. Maybe that's why I don't know how I feel. Because I have brain cancer. I saw a movie once, where there was this hospital and they killed people and harvested their organs. I don't want them to harvest my organs. I don't want to have brain cancer. I wish I knew how I felt, then I wouldn't be so worried.

Fin said...

Chicken Little,
I don't want to be rude but if you're dead, what do you need with your organs?

Chicken Little said...

I'm dead? I'm dead? I'm dead? I'm dead? I'm dead? I'm dead?
When? When did I die? When? Why didn't anyone tell me I was dead? I'm dead? I don't feel dead. Why am I dead? I don't want to be dead. I want to live. I want to be alive again. Why didn't anyone tell me I was dead? I'm dead???

Fin said...

STOP! Chicken Little, you're not dead. You were talking about dying and not wanting your organs harvested. That is what I was referring to.

Pure Fiction said...

Poor chicken little. Poor japananese lady. Poor Goran vijnic.

I'm so tired . . . very tired. And a little sad now. I turn on my computer after a few drinks with my new friends to celebrate my first week back in a fulltime job after six (SIX) years. . .and this is what I come back to.

Poor chicken little. So small. Just a chicken. And already dead. Or not dead. I'm not sure . . .

Very tired. . . very very tired. Keyboard looks soft. Just clear away some of these sweet papers . . . soft . .mmmmmmmmm hththhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Chicken Little said...

Poor Chicken Little. Poor Chicken Little. I'm so small. And just a chicken. And dead. Poor Chicken Little. I know what I'm feeling now. I'm feeling dead. With no organs. Poor Chicken Little. Boy oh boy, I could use a nap. I'm worn out. I'm worn out from dying. Can you nap when you're dead? I sure hope so.

Anonymous said...

I am sooooo glad it's Friday, but it sucks 'cuz spring break is over on Sunday. Oh, well, I have the whole weekend! Maybe my brother scored some pot...oops! Gotta go, call on the cell. TGIF!

Stevie

Marilyn Peake said...

Chicken Little,

You are such a sweet creature, but I fear you worry too much. Remember the message I shared with Wiley O'Mara:
Drink deeply by land or sea.
Earth comes only once.
You have only one life, my dear. Enjoy it deeply. If you are able, come to the magical lake in the forest on Wiley’s island, and I will help you to heal your mind. Worry not about the legend of The Beast in the Forest. Wiley braved that territory despite the warnings, and he triumphed over all the obstacles placed before him. You can do the same.

- Lucinda, magical fairy godmother type woman in The Fisherman’s Son Trilogy.

Marilyn Peake said...

Pure Fiction,

I reach out to you and extend another golden cup, decorated with jewels and inscribed with ancient words of wisdom, as I did for Wiley O’Mara, the night he fell asleep from exhaustion upon his very important journey. Go to the lake in the forest on Wiley’s island, and drink of the water there. You will see visions beneath the surface, and your vitality will be restored. If you arrive at night and are especially lucky, the Northern Lights will dance across the ebony sky like colorful ribbons, and the stars will glitter like diamonds.

- Lucinda, magical fairy godmother type woman in The Fisherman’s Son Trilogy.

Fin said...

Stevie,
If you get a job, maybe you can purchase your own weed and use it judiciously throughout the week.
Just a thought.

Fin said...

Anybody seen Shadow and I'm just missing him?

Mira said...

Fin,

I just saw your message above. I'm glad you like the blog. You've been an important member here this first week. I really appreciate your participation.

Chicken Little said...

Beast in the forest? Beast in the forest? Beast in the forest? I don't want to see a Beast in the Forest. Besides, I'm dead. I died. Fin said I died. You seem really nice, though. I would like to see a magical island. Can you see a magical island when you're dead? But what about the Beast in the Forest? Although, maybe a magical island could cure my brain cancer. I have brain cancer, I'm sure of it.

Brokerage said...

Incoming call. Be right back.

Anonymous said...

Hi Fin

Are you there? How are you?

Shadow

Brokerage said...

Another call. Forgive me. Be right back.

Fin said...

CHICKEN LITTLE: You are not dead. Actually, I don't think you're dead. Ask Troubadour to let you know if he thinks you look like a ghostie, 'cause if not, you're not dead.

Fin said...

Shadow,

Good morning?

Ms. Fettleston said...

Dear Mr. or Ms. Stevie,

Oh my goodness. Drugs, dear? Drugs are quite bad for you. I understand they will rot your brain, dear.

Sincerely,

Ms. Fettleston