I feel like I should mention...

I have another blog.

Sadly, this other blog is not to blame for the staggeringly sporadic rate of my posting here on this blog (that, dear reader, is due to three unrelated issues: a lack of time, a lack of things to say, and the seeming inability to remember that things like blogs exist. Phooey).

Actually, the posting on this other blog is almost as staggeringly sporadic as the posting here (or the posting on the other, third, secret blog). (Can I reiterate here that I'm really really bad at blogging? Why, oh why, do I keep insisting on trying it?)

So anyhow, this newest blog is a photography blog, full of all these little snapshots - both verbal and photographic.

Check it out, yo!

http://lteophotography.blogspot.com/

Regrets and Pretty Pictures

So, as it happens, I'm awful at this whole blogging thing. Go fig. Just so you know -- I do sort of wish I was better at it. Really, I wish I could be a bit less scattered in general, and persistent in something. I suppose I'm willing to have that something be this. A blog (and, very secretly, not even the real blog - which is also only updated on the random occasions in which I simultaneously have something to say, and remember that I've built myself something of a forum in which to say it).

Actually, it's all kind of par for the course. I've kept journals for over 15 years now (which is crazy to think about in and of itself), and in all that time, my entries have been sporadic at best. Journaling has always been a process. It starts with a seed: an idea, an emotion, a moment of insight. Like a less shiny version of a pearl, this seed rolls around in my brain for a while, getting bigger, getting smoother, getting more persistent and taking up more and more of what space is not already occupied by more pressing matters. Eventually, it is the pressing matter and I find myself in the position of spitting it out somehow, or going mad. Ok, maybe not going mad. That's a bit extreme. In fact, often, I never get around to writing down whatever that thought was and it ends up fading into the recesses of my brain, perhaps to be visited again on another day - but most likely to be forgotten.

Hmm. Lovely visuals I'm having here on this end of this blog entry. That paragraph above brings to mind little thought bubbles, floating on the surface of a glassy lake, either growing bigger and bigger until they explode into the world, or growing heavier and heavier and sinking to the dark shadows of the lake bed. What would that lake bed look like, littered with the fading remnants of heavy thoughts? Or would the thoughts remain there, forever - never fading, just piling up, one upon another, like a million glass marbles of varying shapes and sizes? And what of the thoughts that explode? Do they float off into the ether? Or do they hover over the lake and are they reflected on the water and in the depths?

Hmm.....

Holy Headache, Batman!!!

I've come to a very important decision. If it so happens that I ever find myself somehow, beyond all reason, engaged to be married... I'm freaking going to elope. Seriously.

I mean really. I see no joy whatsoever in the process. Between guest lists, vendors asking for extortionate sums of money just because they can, date drama, dress drama, bridesmaid drama, drama, drama, drama. It just looks like a whopping bit of unfun.

So it's official. I'm either A) Going to elope (seriously), or B) Have such a closed wedding that the only people involved are going to be our families and closest of close personal friends. That's it. None of this giant shebang mumbo jumbo.

Sorry to break the news, future groom-dude, but it's sweet and simple for this someday-Sadie. No diamond tiaras, no monogrammed everything, no platinum weddings. I know how disappointed you must be, but, well, I'm afraid you'll just have to deal with it. Dude.

Oh my Dorothy!

I'm a fan of witty, sardonic poetry.  It makes me feel a bit less lonely to know that somewhere, at some point, some poor slob was just as annoyed with the world in general as I am at this particular moment.  

My favorite is the gloriously articulate Dorothy Parker, queen of the Algonquin Round Table.  

Today, I ran across this particular gem that seems to relate nicely to my current mood/situation:

Experience

Some men break your heart in two,

Some men fawn and flatter,

Some men never look at you;

And that cleans up the matter.

A toast to you, Madam Dorothy, and our equally lamentable experiences with men.

Looks like Lady is a bit of a Tramp

Seriously.

I randomly watched Lady and the Tramp recently and noticed something that my six-year-old-self apparently missed.... Lady was totally preggers! I mean, duh, right? There are all those little Ladies and the one little Tramp at the end. But before that, after she got back from the pound, Joque and Trusty were both offering to man-up and make an honest woman out of her because they were both convinced that the Tramp was too much of a scamp to do it himself.

Whoa there Uncle Walt! Seriously?!

It blew my universe. I mean, what happened to all those Victorian ideals of modesty and propriety?


Anyhow, anyhow, anyhow. Somewhere out there is someone wondering just what it is Leah is doing here in the bloggesphere. What happened to the xanga? Well, it's still there and I'm still updating it at a seriously random rate. Today though, I discovered that about a year ago I started a blog here on blogger. So here I am. On my blog, on blogger, blogging.

Blog.