Quality Control

My husband and I work for the same company. While my work is sort of the grunt work on the factory floor, my husband’s role is a lot of documentation type work. He has a cubicle area he shares with about five other guys.

Ben and his cubical mates have come up with these ideas for a show about themselves working at our company with some grandiose elements and situations thrown in. Every time, my husband, Ben tells me about these episodes and I imagine them animated, kind of like the FX series Archer. Sort of like Senfield meets Archer.

I read up a bit on Archer’s animation process and it seems like it’d be difficult to do something like it. I honestly didn’t understand how they ended up merging all of it together. It seems really interesting from what I’ve read.

The first time I watched Archer I really loved the animation. Thinking back, I’ve probably always been interested in animation. One of my absolute favorite types is stop motion though. The process is so complex. I love watching behind the scenes of movies, etc. being made in this style. My sixth grade teacher introduced to us/ let us watch Wallace and Gromit in class a few times and was in love with how it was done.

I read in a few articles that the Archer animators use some sort of rigging for the characters. So it sounds a bit like stop motion, but I don’t think it quite is. I’d probably have to see it done to really understand it, but it makes sense why it’s so unique. I don’t know how serious my husband and his coworkers are about these episodes they joke about, but I think it be fun to do a mock-up of it.

It’d be interesting even as a graphic novel/comic or something to start. I mean we work in a factory, I’m not sure how someone would go about jumping into animating a t.v. series. But, hey research I guess.

Web series or a netflix series would be cool. Not that it’s a piece of cake to break into either. I’d like to draw it up though. I think there’s probably programs that can be used so my fingers don’t go numb from sketching it out by hand. Typing doesn’t seem to bother me so, yeah.

I don’t think they like the idea of it be animated as much as I do. They still talk about it non-animated. Hopefully they write them all down to do something with them.

The Limbo Of Unrequited Infatuation

It’s like writing letters with someone. You’re waiting for a letter to come in everyday. Wondering what it will say and what the person’s been doing.

You finally get a letter and it’s almost more entertaining than you had anticipated the letter being, especially since it’s just a piece of paper with words. It’s also inquisitive enough to make you think all the letters will be as lovely.

After writing a response a while later you receive another fantastic letter in response. You respond again, but this time you wait so much longer than before to receive another.

When you do finally receive another letter it’s vague with chit chat type of conversation. None of your previous questions answered. Giving you entirely new questions and furthermore concerns that cannot be properly voiced through a pen to paper.

The letter itself is flat and neat, but you’ve become so attached to the delightful letters that this disinterested and disconnected response makes you crumple slightly inward. So what do you do? You try to be all the more entertaining to inspire the former interest you had received previously.

Unfortunately, you get these same type of letters a couple more times. The time checking the mailbox each day, becomes a larger number of days between each letter. Until you no longer receive any, no matter how many you send to revitalize a connection again.

However, after you feel you’ve recovered from your attachment, you receive a letter not nearly as entertaining as the first few, but it conveys more interest than the last ones you’d received. This gives you just enough hope to want more and hang on.

Even though the letter wasn’t much, it makes you feel remembered and special. You’ve foolishly become hopeful. But you shouldn’t, because your sender was probably either bored, lonely, or fickle. You get to thinking you’re on the precipice of rekindling that flame that burned at the start of the correspondence.

You haven’t learned this lesson. Or rather, you need to go through it a couple more times before it sticks. So you’ll keep getting the small amount of grip you need to keep hanging off that cliff, but never enough to pull yourself up and go on home. At least…not yet. You will. Just not yet.

An old Biddy

Someone at work told me on Friday that I was a talker. Literally no one has ever said this to me before at any point in my life.

He went on to say that he can’t wait until I get old because I will probably have all sorts of stories. I do ramble quite a bit, so I definitely believe this prediction to one day to be true.

But yeah, I got stuff to say. I just hope Ben and whoever is around me wants to hear all my stories and ramblings too.

Don’t worry about that gaslighting period

You think you’re so kind to me. You think nothing of when you cut me up with your words but save all the nice ones for your friends.

I wonder when I stopped being beloved and became the lowly disappointment I am. You’re spooning out my guts and you say its all my fault. You continue to try to mold me to your specifications.

I’m always wrong and I’m never enough but you’re always in the right. I don’t want to wake up and find out what you’ll be disappointed in me for that day anymore. Each day you judge me. You don’t care to know me and accuse me of being awful instead. I have no comfort. I have no home. I’m tired and receive no rest. I’m alone.

If you say,”don’t keep it bottled up” make sure you’re not the reason I have to secure and tighten that lid.

Thorn In My Side

Thorn in my side

Perforates my heart

Claws at me inside

While others sprint towards progress

You refuse to acquiesce

Despite the ardor you profess

Yet I wait

Each day stained

In a tedious state

By the end

Are we there?

Did you bend?

Or does my heart throughout

Become so riddled with holes

That I bleed out?

That Time The Apocalypse Inspired Me

We’re all just ants. We’d accomplish so many fabulous things, bigger than ourselves if we didn’t constantly force ourselves to work alone.

But people let us down, so we have to count on solely ourselves and then we are alone working on the big picture. So everyone is alone working for the greater good, possibly, but we can’t organize so we fail, because the puzzle pieces aren’t being assembled.

We are chaos if we don’t work together for the greater good. It’s our duty to save what’s good. There is so much terrible in the world, it’s our responsibility to manifest and organize the good we can.

-These are the thoughts I have while I watched one of the last few seasons of Walking Dead on Netflix-

The Houses Of My Youth

All of the childhood homes that raised me are almost now sold and gone. She said, “you just slipped right through the cracks.” She wasn’t wrong.

But it doesn’t matter how long it’s been. I still know what roads will lead back to the rooms where I can almost see my younger self in front of me. There may be construction or pavement where gravel used to be or an extra building that didn’t exist before.

No matter what changes, I’ll still see myself riding my bike towards the creek, dancing in the livingroom, video game marathons on the carpet, and singing to movies. I’ll always remember yelling to each other from different rooms, running through the yard, laughing until we could no longer breathe on the trampoline, spending all day in the pool until our skin wrinkled like prunes, and climbing those trees.

Cold Is As Cold Does


I sit with my travel coffee mug in a vice hold between my legs. My hands grip it tightly on either side, not to keep it upright but rather to extract the warmth it gives off. My whole body is tense trying to soak in the heat from the mug as if its a core and is heating me from the inside out. I’m wearing about four layers and two of them are jackets.

I’m not really this cold, but I haven’t adjusted to the difference in temperature from the apartment to the cold waiting for me on the passenger seat. I close my eyes contemplating whether a nap is feasible.

I open them when I notice the light flicker into existence next to me. The light seems circular like lighting a candle in a dark room. The end of Ben’s cigarette is now embers of red.

He cracks the window and blows out the smoke. The rush of the expressway around filters in through the window with the wind.

The cold coming in makes me uncomfortable the way I am when only using a knitted afghan blanket for warmth.  All my body heat escaping through the tiny holes, leaving me somewhere in between not warm enough and too cold to be comfortable.

Ben finishes his cigarette and closes the window. The heat fully envelopes me once again and my whole body instantly relaxes. I close my eyes again looking for sleep.


I’m sure someone has said it before, but there is something romantic about snow. Maybe it’s because it has a magical quality to it when it falls and it certainly helps that it sparkles.

At least it’s romantic when it’s not sending people into ditches and negative degree temperatures aren’t stealing all the moisture we possess causing our skin to crack and/or to resemble ash. Still there is something to be said about a child dancing in it while it falls. Even someone alone or maybe with a friend or a lover.


The wind is quick and menacing this morning. It isn’t just because it’s 5 a.m. and dark. The snow is pulled off the rooftops as if the wind is ripping it away with invisible claws.

The snow jumps from the roof in shreds or strings before it falls like salt. On the carports the snow moves like mist or smoke creeping off the top of them. Snow billowing off the metal roofs like steam from a boiling pot or an ominous rolling fog.


We don’t expect any different here in Michigan, however it doesn’t stop us from pointing it out. Winter is still invading spring. Pun very much intended in all the ways possible, it’s quite a cold war we’re having over here.

Why Stenographer For My Thoughts

Thanks for joining me!

I once had someone ask me what I was thinking about, probably because I was staring off into space as I do. Or maybe it was because I was quiet as usual and he wished to know what was going on in my head.

I remarked that I wasn’t sure, because my brain moves sort of quickly. He likened this to fish in a river with a particularly fast current. I agreed with this example. Theres is  a lot going on up there.

Sometimes I just want to sit down and write but it’s always when I’m at work or when there are too many distractions to focus on my thoughts. I wish there was a device I could hook up to my brain and take down my thoughts so I could visit them later and fully form them like I’d like to.

This is exactly why I wish I had a stenographer to tap into my stream of thoughts and type them out so I could put them together later. So whatever I manage to catch in the strong current of my mind I will attempt to relay it back here. I hope you enjoy what I manage to catch.

P.S. This quote was a default for the first post, but I liked it, so I kept it.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton