No really, I mean it. Just: blah.
I must apologize to you all, because frankly, that funk that I mentioned earlier has come back. With a vengeance. And it's been hovering incessantly for the past week. Obviously impeding my ability to write complete sentences. Yerg.
And, to top it off, Cathy & Ed & Morgan have moved, darn it. And I hate goodbye-ing. You always feel like you should be saying something profound that you all will be able to treasure in your hearts for years to come, but what you actually end up doing is standing (or sitting) around stupidly for a couple of hours, helplessly trying to think of something wonderful & comforting & warming to say & failing utterly, and then leaving, only half-convinced that you're worth much of anything as a friend. Ugh.
So, Cathy, when you get a chance to peruse this blog again, I apologize. Mostly for being a little bit dumb & a lot self-centered &...not able to do the whole goodbye thing very well. Hwaet.
(Leave it to me to use an old Anglo-Saxon word improperly. It was just the first thing that came to mind, okay? Ptooey.)
Okay. So, I guess that's it. I'm just blue & have been for a while...I'm sure I'll snap out of it soon. Give me a good spiritual experience or 5 minutes doing something I really believe to be productive & I'll be back to me old chipper self. So I will. And I will be jocular & verbose instead of the taciturn wretch I've been for the past week. Yeppers. And I won't cry over accidentally dousing my dad with cold water. And I'll get out of bed ontime. And also there will be a little bluebird singing merrily on my right shoulder. And if it...does its business once in awhile on my tshirt, I'll only have myself to blame. My very, very happy self. Ick.
6 comments:
Gosh darn it! (sorry, I don't know any Gaelic expletives!) ...we just can't have this!
...Here's hoping that the bluebird of happiness will be pooping on your t-shirt soon!
Here here! And, uh, what does hwaet actually mean? And how do you pronounce it? "H-wat," "waht," "snarfblatt"?
I'm in agrement with Kim. I have no idea what that word is. But I'm sure its very poignant.
I would also like to share with you my grandma's favorite song.
May the bird of paradise fly up your nose.
May an elephant caress you with his toes
May your wife be plagued with runners in her hose
May the bird of paradise fly up your nose.
Yes, yes. The ultimate "in your face you lousy jerk" song. It actually has nothing to do with this post...except that I was reminded of it when Pat wrote that she hoped the bluebird of happiness would be pooping on your t-shirt soon. I think its pretty funny. You should sing it to your funk...maybe it'll get the hint and move to Florida.
Hey--thanks, all! :^) I can hardly wait to begin the cleanup process on that bluebird gunk.
And Kim, 'hwaet' is kind of an Old English attention-getting word. If I recall correctly, I believe it starts of Beowulf, and it's meant to gather the audience's attention to the speaker. Kind of like, "Yo!" but less, um, informal. So you see, my usage of it here is completely off kilter. (Teehee.) I believe it evolved into the modern word 'what,' but I'm not sure. I think it's pronunced like "Hwat" with the 'ae' being a sound like 'ash' (in fact the correct symbol is that combined ae, which is called an 'ash,' if my memory serves me...). But the 'h' isn't pronounced very strongly; I think it's meant to blend pretty well into the 'w.'
And of course, I could be up in the night & have completely made up the entire paragraph above. Oh, well. I just hope the class I took about Medieval Literature is still serving me well (instead of dumping me in a false-informational sort of ditch). Man. That didn't even make any sense.
And Pam, that is a seriously awesome poem. I'm going to use it on the very next enemy I make, and then they will wither & die from shame. (And elephant caresses.)
But let's not send my funk to Florida. Then Emily would be sad.
How about Wyoming? It probably won't bother the tumbleweeds much.
Many thanks for explaining the meaning of "Hwaet." Sounds like it plays a role akin to "And now, behold, . . ." from the scriptures.
And the pronunciation sounds like the noise junebugs make when they run into your screen (bzzzzzzzz, Hwaet! bzzz, Hwaet! Hwaet!)
Hm. That makes me believe that junebugs are really Anglo-Saxon poets reincarnated. Cool!
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