there's more to life than this

This summer during one of my many spending sprees I picked up this ridiculous Miyazaki clock. It's plastic, has pictures from a handful of his films, and this strange, clear molded face which is much like a jewel case -- for you to display a CD on? The minute and hour hands have soot sprites on them. 12 o'clock is a kodama. It's cute, but in an odd way.

I started to think about what I was going to write here and the incessant click-click-click of the second hand in the background of my diary haze brought my attention to it.

Loud clocks always, always, always, remind me of my great-grandmother. My family would occasionally drive out to Tucson to visit my great-uncle, great-aunt and great-grandmother. It was always a visit mixed with great joy and pain. I loved visiting Aunt K. and swimming in the local pool, but I did not like our mandatory visits with Nana. She was bed-ridden by the time I was old enough to know what the hell was going on, and my brother and I would be herded into her room for our "visit". Aaaagh. Her room was always stuffy, dark, and heavy with sickness. We would stand politely with our hands tucked neatly away, and try to think of things to talk to her about -- and all the while this terrible loud clock would be click-click-clicking behind me on her dresser. After she passed away my grandmother passed along some of Nana's jewelry boxes and costume jewelry to me -- and as luck would have it, the dreaded clock. I kept it for a while, out of guilt for shunning a family "heirloom", but it positively freaked me out. (Sorry, Nana.)

As per usual, things are bizzay on the Catbus route. I'd like to think that all of these things I'm doing in my day are meaningful in some way, but time will tell. I have lately developed a fairly serious sugar habit -- and am currently (between keystrokes, of course) shaking my fist in the air at the folks (you know who you are) who introduced me to Aussie soft licorice. *You* bastards!