giving in to a sense of self-importance

i'm sure random prattling is the best thing ever about blogs, so here's some of mine.

noisiness
living two blocks off a major highway of iniquity, i am used to being entertained by incredible amounts of useless noise. nonetheless, the ridiculously close airplane (i think it almost hit a powerline) ten minutes ago had my heart pounding and the cat running in flat-out terror across the yard (away from the plane? not really, sweetie. nice try though). so i actually had a first, and called the city to register a noise complaint. i was told that they had a 'noise waiver' for whatever stupid commodity-laden festival currently going on across the river. awesome. a noise waiver. can i have one? we want to get really drunk tonight.

i wonder what one has to do in order to secure this get out of jail free card. justify your noise as fulfilling a deep need of city-dwellers? (we keep the riots at a minimum, your honour, through driving our bullshit, gas-eating, cool-looking bird-machines over your neighbourhoods.) maybe you get a noise waiver the old-fashioned way (tax-free donation to the rule-makers) or even as a throwback to tradition (this stupid gathering of noisiness has been occuring for sixty years! shit, maybe we should bring back beating our wives too, since we're so in love with tradition! mind you, we'd have to actually punish spousal abuse before we could let it become retro. otherwise, that's just tacky). anyway, i don't understand the concept of bylaws if you can get waivers for stupid reasons, even though i certainly justify regular jaywalking with the argument that crosswalks and traffic lights are for idiots and small children, not smart people like me.

ah, what a great self-masturbation session. i feel like i got rid of a bunch of otherwise useless spunk. excellent receptacle, the internet. no, i don't actually find my attitude comparable to sexism, why do you ask?

guilt
i'm whiling away the day dreaming of what i would do if i stopped whiling away the days dreaming of things to do. a book i finally finished reading told me to give myself an unquestionable pardon. for a brief moment, it was wonderful. like i'd been handed my own life at this point (here, she's thirty. see what you can do) and there were no expectations or holes to dig myself out of. now of course, the feeling has faded, and i've found some useless things to feel guilty about (not having sewn some summer pants even though it's almost august is a clear indication of how i will fail at everything for the rest of my life) instead of risking failure at things that matter more (such a sacrifice i make for my insecurities. hear that, insecurities? LOOK WHAT I GIVE YOU! ungrateful little mental offspring).

food
i am having fun feeding myself, and occasionally Special Friend (SF), with whom i had a fantastic, romantic time last night. i love how we own our time together, laughing occasionally about all the treacherous and dangerous paths of dishonesty laying around for less experienced lovers than we to trip upon, and agreeing that we are so much happier telling each other the truth, even when it's uncomfortable. of course, thus far, all the uncomfortable things have been relatively romantic. we aren't confessing that we fantasize about being blessedly alone for a day because we're still fantasizing about jetsetting with each other. won't it be fun to see how our honesty fares when the subjects become less shakespearean and more fawlty towers-esque. (secretly, i am actually looking forward to being boring with SF, since i think even this will be exciting. what's wrong with me?)

oh right, food. yeah, so i've been baking up apples with cheese and morning eggs, and dreaming up ways to fulfill my latest dietary/nutrition craze, which is to cut the processing steps in half. no more this-was-food-once-before-the-machines-got-to-it products. which means more chopping of vegetables. i think i'm up for it.

crazy labels
also, i am now officially a cat-lady. i dream of them, take care of them, and register noise complaints on their behalf. fortunately, SF sees some kind of nurturing side in this, and neither gets jealous nor makes fun of me. he even tries, albeit warily, to befriend my cat, who has of course recognized her nemesis (for attention) in him. she is willing to be bribed though, like most cats. somehow they don't let being bribed affect their sense of honour. must research.