my life in stereo 2

These are the myriad sounds inside the house that you hear throughout the day and night.

1. My cell phone alarm that I snooze much more than I care to admit.
2. The coffee maker that's at work at about 8am, 12pm, 4 pm, 10pm...and a few other times in between. It makes a really loud gurgly noise and we're all willing to wait the half hour for it to brew 10 cups. We like our coffee in this house.
3. The phantom flushing of O's toilet downstairs.
4. The creeeaaakk-squeal sound of the oven door when someone reaches in for a pot or pan. Yeah, the oven doesn't work.
5. The fridge door squeaking open many times a day.
6. Someone in the kitchen cooking.
7. Someone in the kitchen washing dishes.
8. Someone in the kitchen putting away the dishes.
9. With #s 4-8...these happen almost constantly. There are 6 people in the house who either, like to cook, like to eat, is a neatfreak, or doesn't want to hear it from the neatfreak.
10. The shuffle shuffle shuffle of P as he walks in his house slippers. He moves as slow as molasses.
11. The clomp clomp clomp on the wooden stairs and tile floors of A who admits she has a lead foot.
12. The munch munch munch of O who is always eating AND loves to cook.
13. The REALLY LOUD laughter of J that sounds like he's heard the best joke ever and then sighs, "Que bien!".
14. The REALLY LOUD high pitched laughter of O, all the time, whether he's telling a joke, telling a story about growing up in Costa Rica, or watching "Bob Esponga" or "Los Simpsons" or just about anything.
15. The clickety-clack of all 6 people on their computer working...or chatting.
16. The clickety-clack of S as she plays Bubble Spinner on her macbook.
17. The really loud old school worship P plays in his room that's loud enough to hear from outside in front of the house two stories down when his room is the furthest back.
18. The really loud guitar coming from P's room when he's practicing his music for Sunday with the original song playing just as loudly. See #17 for reference to volume.
19. O's bass when he's practicing for Sunday. Not as loud as P. See #17 for reference to volume.
20. The tv with dubbed movies and shows from the states. I'm still trying to figure out who decides on who gets to do the voices. They don't match. (But, it's a lot better than what they used to do which was use ONE voice or one man and one woman voice.)

21. Or even better, the cheesy, scary sounds and background orchestration for "Lo Que La Gente Cuenta" (stories people share...about the supernatural supposedly based on true events. But it's kinda hard to get scared when you can pretty much predict which music is coming when the dead girl is gonna come out of the closet and kill the mean neighbor).
22. The playstation with some soccer, I mean, football game going for most of Monday (our day off).
23. The ping ping beep sound of P playing some form of tetris on his cellphone...pretty much ALL day, everyday.
24. The beginning notes of “America”—or “God Save the Queen”, take your pick—which means someone just rang our doorbell. This could be someone we know but more likely it’s someone selling something or asking for money.

25. The rusty squeaky sound of the ironing board on the hallway upstairs.

26. The rough wooden squeaky sound of all that doors that stick in this house.

27. The grating metal sound of the front door as it unlocks VERRRRY slowly.

my life in stereo

The sounds of my day...

The gray scottish terrier next door who incessantly barks from about 6 am to about 12:30 am. Add to that the sound of my grumbling "someone please shoot that dog". Add to that my yelling "NO!" when I go out to take out the trash and he's in our driveway digging in his trash and spreading it all over the curb...or snapping at me....IN MY OWN DRIVEWAY.

Or, he's barking at:

1. The cars speeding around the curves on either side of our house.
2. The Coca-Cola delivery truck (with roll up side doors) that comes by every so often to deliver two 2-liter bottles to the house across the street. Yep. That's it.
3. The garbage truck the honks his arrival about a quarter-mile down the road to give people time to remember to take out the trash so that it doesn't get destroyed by either a) the neighborhood dogs or b) people digging for cans or other recyclables but don't bother doing it 'neatly'.
4. The other 15 dogs in a six-house radius.
5. The gas truck that comes to deliver the propane when we are about to run out. I mean, who wants to take a cold shower or not have gas to heat up tortillas?
6. The man who walks in the middle of the street throughout the neighborhood (there are no sidewalks) blowing a bird whistle. (It's the same sound of the water whistle I had as a kid that made bird sounds and was shaped like a bird that my mom got me in Chinatown.) He'll sharpen your knives for a good price.
7. The trucks that drive by and advertise on their attached bullhorns.
8. The innumerable motorcycles and motorbikes that come by our street to deliver...pizza. mail. papers. tacos.
9. The other dog, 5 houses down--a golden lab--who's never inside that decides he wants to investigate everyone's trash, including the terrier's.
10. All the birds in the backyard, including the hummingbirds. I threw them in there even though, I'm pretty sure they're not very vocal. But there's the dove (okay, pigeon) sounds and the birds that sound like they're clearing their throat before they chirp.
11. The construction work going on next door. Not sure what they're working on but it involves a lot of concrete dust.
12. The car that honks incessantly at about 6 am to pick up someone for work across the street.
13. The kids across the street that head out to school, yelling to their friends.
14. The kids across the street that come back from school, yelling to their friends.
15. The kids across the street when they're playing in the street, yelling at each other.
16. The mama of the kids across the street yelling at them.
17. The random parties that last until...not nice hours.
18. The other guy that walks down the street yelling "Lava carrrrrooooossss!" (car wash)

Mental scrapbooking

I'm always inspired by themes. In fact, I've come to realize that I tend to think in themes with an undercurrent of the outline form. For the longest time, I'd said, I thought in outline form...I guess it's more of outline form with color. I scrapbook my thoughts. I suppose it helps me to organize my thoughts, quell my anxiousness, and helps me see the prettiness in things. More and more (with the help of many friends along my journey) I've begun to embrace the girly aspect of my personality; embrace being the key word. But, I've just noticed that in this last paragraph, there's been no form...no theme...no order...

So that's another aspect of me that's me...randomness. Tangents. Ooooh! LOOK AT THAT!!...wait. what?...lack of focus...but if i do this, then what about this?...what about?...what if?....i can't decide. don't make me decide...i'm afraid...

I think that's one of the reasons that I've not blogged consistently. There's too much going on in my head (ideas, worries, plans, avoidance) and I have a hard time focusing on one of the snowflakes 'cause they're all so interesting. Then when I do, I spend so much time thinking about it. Observing it. Wondering about. Worrying about it. Planning for it. Dissecting it. That, when it comes to talking about it, I'm just plain pooped to try and get it all out on paper, er, computer. And then there's the issue of me trying to get it out of my head in a way that communicates to anyone who bothers to read what it was that I went through internally. But then, what if it sounds silly? What if I missed a step? What if I put it in the wrong order? What if I use the wrong word? Then I read friends' posts and then I'm totally stuck. I get inspired and the ideas swirl around. A storm brews and new snowflakes appear and then I get distracted all over again.

Is it a green moment with traces of blue? Does this background really make my pink come out or obscure the purple I really wanted to focus on...but the pink is still so pretty. Then should all my pages work from the beginning of the red spectrum with slashes of gray throughout?

I wish my life would stick to the plan I have in my head. But then, when I go to look into scrapbooking stash to make it all work together, I realize a few things.

I don't really remember what I wanted to be when I grew up. I think I wanted to be everything.

I wanted to be a model cause they got to where pretty clothes and smile all the time. My paper wasn't bubblegum pink enough to pull that off. It was more of a distressed fuschia with black edging. Not good enough for the masses.

I wanted to be a nurse like my mother. But I realized that the deep blue I had worked well, but I didn't have the patience or innate character to develop this page. The paper could rip too easily and I wasn't up for that kind of pain.

I wanted to be a writer. But realized there were too many sticker options that I gave up trying to fit them all on the page 'cause it got cluttered. I suppose now, this is my way of at least having a sticker collection.

I wanted to be an architect. The concept of measuring it all ahead of time and making it all fit perfectly overwhelmed me. I like order, but because I know that I'll make mistakes I avoid anything that reaveals that too easily for others to see.

I wanted to be a lawyer. I saw others using greens, purples, yellows...you name it. But then I thought I didn't want to have to fight to make others like my choices. I couldn't face the rejection of forcing the issue only to find that I didn't really want that choice either.

I became a teacher and found that I was pretty good at putting my book together. When I started, I had fairly clear plan for the purpose of the book and how it would flow. Half way through, I was wondering why, even though it looked presentable, I didn't like it. I was starting to hate the book. Even though I loved the papers I was using, the embellishments and MOST of the pictures that went in, the book was getting on my nerves. It hit me that I spent WAY too long creating the pages, and overthinking them. I was in misery while putting them together instead of enjoying the process of the making the page AND enjoying them afterward. Instead of pointing out the cool things about what I'd created, I dwelled on all the mistakes I made. I realize now, how I might have better responded to the mistakes, but I still don't want to revisit that book for awhile. I do, however want to go back and revisit the papers I'd worked with...the embellishments I had a knack for using...the layouts I enjoyed. I just think someone else might have to show me where I can find better pictures. I'm fairly sure I need a new location but I'm not willing to find it right now.

Maybe it's because deep down, I don't know what I want. Deep down, I don't know what God wants for me. I know I'm not supposed to fret. Yeah, yeah. Rest in Him. Trust in Him. Let Him unfold my life's plan ;-)

Maybe, it's because that burgundy paper I thought would mesh perfectly with my pictures or at least, the pictures I planned to take, isn't really burgundy but more of a wine with red polkadots...NOT what I was looking for but it's what I got. And now, I'm just fighting between being okay with that or saving up to buy what I'd wanted in the first place.

Or maybe, I'll just use the mauve.