Barf. Barf. Barf.

Stomach flu.

God's cruelest curse upon mankind.

High thresholds for pain stand no chance against the gut-wrenching agony.

I loathe agony.

I felt awful all Tuesday, and all yesterday, called in sick to work and stayed within 20 yards of the bathroom all night long. Today I feel better... but am still contemplating calling in sick to work anyways.

Unfortunately, I don't work very many hours during the week, and the more I call in sick means the less money I make. The less money I make means more time inbetween now and the first time I set step on Irish soil, ergo, I probably won't call in sick tonight.

The vicious cycle of life.

The radio in the next room keeps advertising free Britney Spears tickets if you can answer this riddle. "4 out of 10 women, and 1 out of 10 men do this surprising thing at their work and it may help them get promoted."

One woman said napping. Another said cursing.
I'm guessing it's coming in when sick.

Alas! I am wrong. The answer has been revealed! Crying.

Crying.
I should try that sometime.

I spent this morning finishing my book of Jean Paul Sartre plays and watching Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls.

No Exit, The Flies, Dirty Hands, The Respectful Prostitute and Jim Carey.

I was inspired during the first half, and laughed my bloaty blues away with the second.
And now I'm thinking about watching Tangled while making some Tapioca pudding, and croaking out Ace quotes to make myself laugh. "Fee Fi Fo Fum... I smell the fingerprints of scum!"

Hm.

Maybe I am starting to feel a little bit better, after all!

Enjoy the sunshine for me.
It sure looks beautiful out there.

Xx,

The Fluesy

Love

In my life, I've come to realize a few things about the L word.

Careful, dears, no need to get hot and bothered. I don't mean Lesbian.
I mean Love.

It's come to my attention that there are countless forms of love. Love is omnipresent. It's everywhere. "Love is a many splendored thing, love lifts us up where we belong, all you need is love."
You know the rest.

What you don't know, or you just haven't chosen to acknowledge, is that love surrounds us in every square inch of sunshine, every square inch of rain, every square inch of passion, pride, joy, sorrow, stagnation.
We were created out of love. We die for love.
We live to love.

Sometimes you can't control the thing you fall in love with. Be it animal, mineral, vegetable, over-the-top Emmy-winning TV programs about show choirs, Justin Bieber or even a Western form of relaxation meditation turned worldwide fitness phenomenon, love comes in all sorts of ways, and from all sorts of places.

Woody Allen, in response to a question to the tune of "Why are you in a relationship with your 21 year old stepdaughter?" once said, "The heart wants what the heart wants."

Now this may be a terrible excuse to practice acts of rampant incestuous promiscuity, and should never, in my opinion, be used as an excuse for any sort of behavior in general, but as sad and sick as it is, there is truth to that statement.

I don't want to get into deep-seated controversy here, that's not my intention.
My intentions are purely surface level.

I've come to realize this in my own life.

For example. As hard as I fought against the urges, I too succumbed viciously to the glitz and glamour of GaGa songs, Justin Bieber and, dare I say it, have even mindlessly took part in a few episodes of a horribly embarrassing tv show which shall remain nameless.

(And no, to all of those who know me, it's not Buffy. There's no shame in wanting more of The Buffster. This is far, far, far worse, and therefore, strictly unmentionable.)

It's just true.
Sometimes, your heart wants things, and you desire things you originally thought strange or humiliating, unusual and therefore unacceptable.
And then once you realize that you can't help yourself, and you roll with the punches, catch on to the next big phenomenon, you find out why it was all along that you loved inexplicable things in inexplicable ways.

I have this theory that God is setting us all up for one, huge, eye-opening experience. There's no telling how long this experience will last. It could take moments, it could take years.

But I believe He drops us hints, all along the pathways and hillsides of life, and as we collect them and lay them idly without a second thought in our baskets, we slowly begin to connect the dots.
And then, once all the dots are connected..... Epiphany.

We're someday finally going to find out just why it is we all love a good musical number done in costume and choreograph.
We're going to find out just why the undeniable need for social networking controls our lives.
We're going to find out why we've always had undeniable cravings for orange juice with our slices of pizza.
I'm someday going to find out why it is I love the smell of gasoline.
I've already found out why it is that I've always, always, had an unexplained affection for learning how to surf.... And why I've always loved people, in all their flawed, inspiring, tragic wonder.

Some people are going to find out why they've always found others who wear glasses incredibly sexy.
Some are going to find out exactly why they've always hated tube socks.

God's got a great sense of humor that way.
So, in essence, the statement, "the heart wants what the heart wants" is true. Because in my heart, I want things that I don't understand. I don't know where they've come from, where they are now, where they're going to take me in my life, but I know I want them. I know my heart wants them, completely seperate from my brain, from me.
And someday, after I've collected all the breadcrumbs, God's going to bake me a loaf so fine, and so heart-fulfilling that I'm just going to want to shout it's praises from the rooftops.
No longer being afraid if anyone else overhears.

I can't wait for my eyes to be opened.


L. O. V. E.

Love.

Thoughts On Montana

Dated 5/31/11



I should start keeping healthy track of all the places I go that inspire me, so I can know where to return to if the need for new, fresh inspiration arises.
Places like Montana. All of Montana.
The entire state makes me quiet, reserved. I feel intrusive, like I've stumbled upon some profound, ancient secret ritual and the surrounding mountains have blessed me with the divine gift of being allowed to enter in and watch, to enter in and partake.

There's so much mystery surrounding every tree, rooted deep in every mountain and cliffside, Every river and every valley. It doesn't make sense to me. I feel like I'm not one who belongs, I'm not one to fit in here.
I silently judge the cowboy hats, the sarsparilla-scented beards. I roll my eyes at the "I Hunt Montana" bumper stickers. I vehemently change the country music stations.
Where are the skyscrapers? Where are the screaming liberals?
The traffic, nightlife, ocean waves, bicyclists, doomsday predictors?
And most of all... What on earth do you mean the nearest Starbucks is almost 3 hours away??
I don't belong here.

And yet, the land penetrates my indignant outer layer. It pierces through my city-born notions. It shatters my ability to judge and renders me in complete awe, and utterly dumbfounded.
It's so ensnaring.
The sky is immense.
I feel so small.
The Rocky Mountains surge electrically on every side. Swollen and smothered in pine trees, white-tipped in ice and snow, they rise and fall for miles and miles and they remind me of violent ocean waves, frozen in place, but never dead.
Surging deep underneath the layers of dirt and topsoil and even below the groundwater, they're throbbing, thriving, pulsating, wildly beating like drums and I am almost frightened by their raw power.

The valleys sing with wild flowers and miles of green fields, precious homesteads and tiny, quaint towns....
The rivers make me cry.
The ever-changing sky makes me tremble.
I want to write it all.
The air, the dirt, the wildlife, the weather, the land, the sky....
It's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been to, and it's absolutely incomparable to anything else.

You don't know why it's beautiful, and I can't explain it to you until you come here for yourself and see it.
I am overwhelmed.
Frightened by the chance of sudden, dramatic change, by the unpredictable nature, enthralled by the purity of the miles of untouched land, and held completely captivated by these violent, vibrant, supernatural mountains.

Sometimes I think I never want to leave, but I could never truly trade the ocean for mountains.
I do love visiting, and I don't think I'll ever tire of the long drive because it's worth every excruciating minute just to spend four astoundingly beautiful hours driving through Montana mountains.

Travel and MnMs

June is here. Where has the year gone?

I have a few things I wanted to share with y'all. The first and most exciting is that I have started another blog, with a dear friend, and I would highly appreciate it if all of you lovely people went and followed it as well, and spread the word to your other friends who blog or follow blogs... And if you're feeling extra loving, you can feel free to tell them about Eyes Wide Open, too. You know. Only if you feel like it. ;)

I'm really wanting to get this blog rolling, and to gain more followers and I can't do that without your help. "Help me, Obi Wan Kenobe, you're my only hope!"

Anyways, back to the new blog:
It's going to be all about traveling, and is called "The Footsteps of Strangers."
www.thumbkinaroundtheworld.blogspot.com

Check it out. :)


Moving on...
I've really been getting bit by the travel bug lately. I think it might be the sunshine. It also might be this new travel book I'm reading called "A Year In The World: Journeys of a Passionate Traveller" by Frances Mayes.
You should check it out if you enjoy mouth-watering tales of sun, tapas, and mediterranean breezes...
Mostly I think it's just the fact that June always makes me feel closest to my dreams, and my dreams of travelling are magnified by the blue skies and lawn-scented air which encompass the month of June.

We just got back on Tuesday from a quick weekend jaunt to Montana for my cousin's high school graduation. And by quick, I do mean quick. We left on Saturday morning at 7am, and rolled into their driveway at exactly 7pm.
The graduation and open house party took up all day sunday, we played around at local pawn shops and partook in many games of croquet on monday, and left at 8am Tuesday morning and rolled into our own driveway at exactly 8pm on Tuesday night.
Exhausting, but exhilarating at the same time.
Nothing beats time with my family. We know how to kick back and have a riotous good time.

On the way home, I did a wee bit of writing, nothing impressive, just a few different reflections, but I figure I'd put them on here as posts anyways, because I liked them and I'm trying to up the amounts of posts I put up each month.
I also wrote a little something about Ireland a few weeks ago...
You can look forward to those appearing soon. :)

By the way, am I the only one who eats trail mix solely for the MnMs? I can't help it. They're the chocolatey goodness of regular MnMs with the added seasonings and flavors of an entire bag of trail mix.
Yuummm.