A break from the "In Which I"s....

So as part of a work-type thing, we had to take this quiz to "discover our strengths" (mmmmm, taste the synergy....). They pick your top five, and explain what they mean by the words that that chose to describe you. These are my results.

Input

You are inquisitive. You collect things. You might collect information—words, facts, books, and quotations—or you might collect tangible objects such as butterflies, baseball cards, porcelain dolls, or sepia photographs. Whatever you collect, you collect it because it interests you. And yours is the kind of mind that finds so many things interesting. The world is exciting precisely because of its infinite variety and complexity. If you read a great deal, it is not necessarily to refine your theories but, rather, to add more information to your archives. If you like to travel, it is because each new location offers novel artifacts and facts. These can be acquired and then stored away. Why are they worth storing? At the time of storing it is often hard to say exactly when or why you might need them, but who knows when they might become useful? With all those possible uses in mind, you really don’t feel comfortable throwing anything away. So you keep acquiring and compiling and filing stuff away. It’s interesting. It keeps your mind fresh. And perhaps one day some of it will prove valuable.


Strategic

The Strategic theme enables you to sort through the clutter and find the best route. It is not a skill that can be taught. It is a distinct way of thinking, a special perspective on the world at large. This perspective allows you to see patterns where others simply see complexity. Mindful of these patterns, you play out alternative scenarios, always asking, “What if this happened? Okay, well what if this happened?” This recurring question helps you see around the next corner. There you can evaluate accurately the potential obstacles. Guided by where you see each path leading, you start to make selections. You discard the paths that lead nowhere. You discard the paths that lead straight into resistance. You discard the paths that lead into a fog of confusion. You cull and make selections until you arrive at the chosen path—your strategy. Armed with your strategy, you strike forward. This is your Strategic theme at work: “What if?” Select. Strike.


Intellection

You like to think. You like mental activity. You like exercising the “muscles” of your brain, stretching them in multiple directions. This need for mental activity may be focused; for example, you may be trying to solve a problem or develop an idea or understand another person’s feelings. The exact focus will depend on your other strengths. On the other hand, this mental activity may very well lack focus. The theme of Intellection does not dictate what you are thinking about; it simply describes that you like to think. You are the kind of person who enjoys your time alone because it is your time for musing and reflection. You are introspective. In a sense you are your own best companion, as you pose yourself questions and try out answers on yourself to see how they sound. This introspection may lead you to a slight sense of discontent as you compare what you are actually doing with all the thoughts and ideas that your mind conceives. Or this introspection may tend toward more pragmatic matters such as the events of the day or a conversation that you plan to have later. Wherever it leads you, this mental hum is one of the constants of your life.


Empathy

You can sense the emotions of those around you. You can feel what they are feeling as though their feelings are your own. Intuitively, you are able to see the world through their eyes and share their perspective. You do not necessarily agree with each person’s perspective. You do not necessarily feel pity for each person’s predicament—this would be sympathy, not Empathy. You do not necessarily condone the choices each person makes, but you do understand. This instinctive ability to understand is powerful. You hear the unvoiced questions. You anticipate the need. Where others grapple for words, you seem to find the right words and the right tone. You help people find the right phrases to express their feelings—to themselves as well as to others. You help them give voice to their emotional life. For all these reasons other people are drawn to you.


Adaptability

You live in the moment. You don’t see the future as a fixed destination. Instead, you see it as a place that you create out of the choices that you make right now. And so you discover your future one choice at a time. This doesn’t mean that you don’t have plans. You probably do. But this theme of Adaptability does enable you to respond willingly to the demands of the moment even if they pull you away from your plans. Unlike some, you don’t resent sudden requests or unforeseen detours. You expect them. They are inevitable. Indeed, on some level you actually look forward to them. You are, at heart, a very flexible person who can stay productive when the demands of work are pulling you in many different directions at once.

I find these things to be somewhat accurate. Next up: actual thoughts on my brand of crazy.

In Which I Have Exceeding Skill At A Game I Don't want To Play

I told Matt about the dream, save one detail. There was some metaphorical hand holding, some text message "there there"s, some mental hair stroking. Its all better now.

I got drunk last night in the hopes I could get drunk and write a masterpiece. The only thing I achieved was a mild hangover and an upset stomach. And a craving for something greasy and fattening with mayo on it.

Month one on the pill wasn't so bad. My tits grew to be the size of dwarf planets and peace of mind is something that is worth the non insurance price. My smoking has gone down considerably, and I don't feel guilty for the first time in months.

And I want a fried chicken sandwich with pickles and mayo. I also want subway but I need to curb my enthusiastic spending if I want to go to Chicago.

I'm excited about this trip because I'll get an extra day with my love and hopefully I can throw together an impromptu pseudo reunion with my AI boys. I'd love to see Mike again, and from the way things sounded on Facebook, maybe Tom too. And whoever else they can rustle up. And of course Devon, I haven't seen him in a really long time. Not quite as long of a time as Mike and Tom, but at least three or four months. I miss those kids.

Maybe I can get some writing done today?

In Which Somtimes My Insecurity Gets The Best of Me

And by sometimes, I mean a lot, or at least lately.

Can you smell what the crazy is cooking?

I have five days to turn out 1,200 words of not suck. I haven't counted the words on my handwritten page and a half in which I Kevin Smith all over the place. (Which is to say I talk a lot without very much in the way of action or conflict happening.)And this is just deadline one.

And Kate Nash refuses to help. Cheeky bird.

Last night I had this dream where Matt left me for one of his really good friends (a girl, of course its a girl, girls always make me nervous. And of course its a specific gorgeous friend that I have met before and am probably friends with on facebook). I can't think about it without wanting to cry. This was at 3 a.m. and maybe Matchbox Twenty was right when they assumed "I must be lonely". I texted Matt as soon as I woke up from the dream. This was at three (2:51, if we want to get all kinds of technical). All I said was "You'd tell me if something was wrong with us, right?" I proceeded to stay awake for another half hour or so before pretending to sleep again. He never responded. I know its probably nothing, he had said earlier that he only got thirty minutes of sleep the night before, but the fact that he still hasn't responded makes me nervous. "Bruised" by Jack's Mannequin is on my shuffle now and I am trying not to cry in front of this Vietnamese man who is working on his homework.

But my suspicions have been creeping around the room, under the wallpaper for months now, and its only in the last few weeks that we got an upgrade to full blown crazy girlfriend status. Part of me doesn't want to ignore my instincts, but part of me thinks that its just the birth control talking.

Dear Dashboard Confessional, cut that shit out please.

Dear B-52's, keep that shit going please.

please don't tell anyone that I'm crazy.

In which sometimes I am a horrible person

I've been meaning to write. Letters. Stories. Lovelorn odes to the world beyond my routine.

There has been a fire lit under my ass and now I am hustling to come up with stories, resumes, letters, budgets, pitches, and proposals. Ever looming deadlines make me nervous and my mood swings are worse than a swingset at recess. I blame the drugs.

One application asks for my "favorite personal story". I have so many and so few all at once. I can string fragments into bigger stories (very much like my love life), but there is no one defining story per se. Perhaps mashups have been my downfall. The truth seems to have escaped me for the umpteenth time. I am just stuck when it comes to sticking to just one thing (if one thing really means one...).

Another Application asks for 1200 words maximum of something untrue.

And yet another asks for up to 40 pages of something equally untrue.

There are so many missions. I will not abort any of them.

My mom told me that Matt "better put a ring on it". Oh dear lord.

Forgive me Moses, Jesus, Allah.

Payday. (yay!)
Forgot purse at home (boo!)
I don't have to go home (yay/boo!)

And sometimes the tears just have to come.

Things don't even phase me.

Its snowing.

Valentine's day was fantastic even though my love-induced euphoria is proving to be short-lived.

I have learned that patience is not my strongest virtue. I can only say so many times that the paper in your hand has nothing to do with what homework you're doing and that if you just follow the fucking directions, you will be fucking fine. FUCKING FINE.

But let's focus on the euphoria, shall we?

Friday night I went down to Chicago because its valentine's weekend and that's what young lovers do. Pizza was ordered, gifts were exchanged. Matt got a set of swirly sippy cups. I got two DVDs: Ben Folds: Live at WASO and Golden Girls season one. Plus two packs of the legal clove cigarettes. I have the best boyfriend ever. Well, not ever, but top 10, easily. And then video games (Infamous, I think its called) and Jeopardy! and bed.

Saturday,we lounged in bed (like young lovers do), and then we went out to pick up our tickets for that night. We picked up the tickets, and then walked until we found this neat little cafe called Julius Meinl, where we stopped for lunch. The prices weren't terrible (but slightly pricey for my cheap ass), and the food was pretty tasty. I had this orange ginger infusion tea thing that was heavenly. And the drinks come with these little chocolates. Fabulous. After lunch we kept walking until we happened upon this candy shop. I forget the name of it, Candiality or something that reminds you of the word bestiality. We go in and get these decadent-looking chocolate truffles. So as we're continuing our walk and eating our truffles, we pass a liquor store. Like one of those classy ones that would never ever sell Boone's Farm. The liquor store was having a free wine tasting. So we walked in tasted some wine, looked around and left. And then we smoked one of my cloves. For something completely unplanned, it was pretty romantic. After walking around a bit more, we went and got dressed for the burlesque show. Yes, burlesque. It was so fabulous. I loved it. So tastefully bawdy. And it re-enforced a positive body image. Somebody five me.

So improv classes + burlesque classes + strip classes = me(perfect)

By hook or by crook, I am moving.

Sunday, we tried to watch Shortbus and Paper Heart back to back. One was more fail than the other. Shortbus was a porn in independent film clothes and Paper Heart was just weird and awkward in all the worst ways. I was not a fan of it and kept falling asleep. Went to catch my bus and every time I say goodbye, I can't help but hear the cinematic violins swell.

The bus home was entirely too long.

Today is fat tuesday and I have no idea what to give up for lent.

I'm on the pill and my knockers are giant.

Secretly listening to Radiohead. Shhhhh.

in the days of kings and queens I was a jester...

I am sitting at work, attempting an internship application and lusting after cigarettes. Two regulars are working, and one of my coworkers is helping one of them. The guy my coworker is helping always has 523,763,936,034 questions for her, basically because he is in love with her, and has been since last semester. The other regular has a constant blurting problem.

Blurting Lady (BL): do you have a girlfriend?
Guy: ....what?
BL: Do you have a girlfriend?
Guy: Are you applying for the position?
BL: no, but just ask her out already, I can't concentrate with you over there!

I thought I was going to defecate my pants. I silently laughed for a solid couple minutes.

And now BL is trying to talk him up to my coworker. LMAO. Life is wonderful.

I was working on my internship application to This American Life. I am so excited and so scared. I know I can do this though. If I got this, this would be six shades of epic and perfect and omg yes please.

Austin can wait. Athens will wait.

I think its time to cut these ever-tightening plastic bracelets.

Don't tell anyone that I have been creeping Offbeat Bride.

I think my toes are slightly fused/webbed. I noticed yesterday. Is it piercing time?

The letters will come. The future will come.

While we're at it, we can work it night by night. (but only by the night)

So the year is new and my wanderlust is raging.

Here is a list of places I think would be epic to live in:

- Athens, GA (college town. University of Georgia. Bulldogs. Home of REM and the B-52's. I'm pretty fucking jazzed about it.)
- Austin, TX (another college town. University of Texas. Longhorns. Home of SXSW. Still fucking jazzed about it.)
- Chicago, IL (My heart. My Love. Columbia. Northwestern. Home of my love, romantic and otherwise. Slightly less jazzed than before but still pretty jazzed.)
- Minneapolis, MN (Chuck Klosterman mentioned it. University of Minnesota. The school has nothing I want, except a professional certificate in Experimental Surgery. Home of The Replacements and Atmosphere.)
- Toronto, ON (University of Toronto. The Blue and White. Home of charming accents. Four hours from home.)
- St. Louis, MO (University of Missouri St. Louis. Who the fuck knows. Home of the most visually interesting people I've ever seen.)

And there's more but I grow weary. This list was to keep me at least somewhat on track.

there's always Bowling Green...

... but the average low in Athens is 33 degrees. That is as close as Georgia gets to freezing. Hot damn.

that's been my day.

national guard is running around, looking for the monkey but she can't be found...

Why are bad ideas the only ones that feel good?

As part of my new year's makeover, I have opted to rock peace of mind. I am going to see the doctor on Monday and I will not punk out, I will ask the doctor for the pill. The only awkward part is:

1. I may or may not be starting my period that day
2. instead of my regular doctor, I have to see Dr. L, because my regular doctor, Dr. R is all booked through the end of the year (because surprise! I am still insured for another week and a half).
3. Dr. L is a dude. Yeah, I'm one of those girls that has issues with that. Especially because I may or may not have a mess going on.

Okay so I lied. Those are the only awkward parts.

I'm hoping to bypass all that mess anxiety because I just had a hoo ha exam (yes that is the clinical term) in August. But I guess I will have to woman up either way. I have to stop playing Russian roulette.

Either way, things will be interesting.

I am pitching my life as a HBO sitcom. Well okay, maybe not HBO, maybe Showtime.

I am sleepy and starving and I am thirty minutes away from not seeing anyone in this room for three weeks, save my own gorgeous mug. Somebody give me a big YES!

Bad sitcom, party of one.

In a somewhat bizarre turn of events that I can only attribute to my incompetence, I have gotten myself in a not delicious pickle. Nothing life altering, but the fodder for many a sitcom episode.

I decided that I had taken enough of not being near my boyfriend, so I told him I was coming to visit this weekend. That is all well and good. Unfortunately, I also told my clique of lady friends that we should have some shiggles while we all have some time off. Trying to coordinate five separate schedules is daunting. I originally said that anything pretty much worked. People took dates and times off the table. One suggestion that seemed to work the best for 4/5 of the involved parties did not work for me. December 20 doesn't work for me because I do (on the 21st). While discussing this with Jill, I accidentally went into problem solver mode, forgot my aching heart/loins, (which I am totally ruing at the moment) and suggested a "prefect" solution. FUUUUCK. I would cancel on Matt, but 1. I haven't seen him in a month, and 2. If I cancel, that means no proper "alone time" until NYE. THAT'S SIX WEEKS. MY POOR PUNANNI (that may or may not be expelling uterine lining at that point). Is it bad if I don't care about seeing them that much at this point? Does that make me a horrible person? I tried to see if there was a bus that left early/late enough for me to do both, but to no avail. The buses out of Chicago on Sunday are at 7, 9:15, and 4:30. Fuck 7. 9:15 is not much better but that's the only one that will get me back at a reasonable hour so we can go to Jackson or Redford or wherever the fuck we are deciding to go. Well if I left on the 9:15, and got back at 1:25, that would work, I guess even if our usual lazy Sunday got cut very very very short. maybe that is what I 'll do. FML.

I think I really screwed the pooch. Maybe. Screw fixing problems.

I started reading CD Payne's Youth In Revolt. Its not so bad so far, but I keep trying not to picture Michael Cera reading the book to me. I keep failing miserably.

Hangovers and by proxy, hang ups.

Oh the longest beach in the world was last night.

I didn't even know i had three long beaches. This led to me loudly lamenting what a bonkers-ass thanksgiving I had and the delivery of strange looks from strangers.

Last call was at 12:30.

I am now buzzing on legal speed. I am not sick anymore and now this is purely for dietary consumption. It feels great, and has mostly eliminated my headache. Or maybe that's the water. My eye has attempted to escape my head and i feel like I can literally shoot lasers out of it.

One cig + one pill = good to go.

People are coughing near me though and my inner germaphobe wants to just run all about the lab with the recently acquired sanitizing products. I am doing my very best not to gag openly.

I am cutting all my hair off. I am through looking ordinary. Today is a day for dying. Not death, but dye.

But of course this is the one day this week, everybody wants a piece of me.

I am through with Kalamazoo. I am through with not knowing what I want.

I know I want school, but the finances are astronomical and my grades are pathetic, and I don't know who would say that I am skilled beyond who I am, who I was, on paper.

Right now nothing sounds more appealing than some okay 9-5 job and classes at The Second City. Right now I think I could be a stand up comic. My life is just one really bad joke that only God and I seem to find funny.

Let's go.

Cover shifts blow.

I am pro more money. Always. Well, 98.347% of the time.

But that being said, I have to shut my piehole.... nobody has been in here all day, and for that I am glad. If I had to cover somebody, I am glad it is today.

My anti-snot meds are wearing off, and I need to take more if I hope to make it out of this shift alive.

So for our anniversary, Matt got me this USB that looks like a mixtape, fully loaded with tasty jams. Being the god awful girlfriend that I am, I just got to listen to it today. What a heartbreaking work of staggering genius.

I highly recommend:

"Can't Hardly Wait" - Justin Townes Earle

"write you a letter tomorrow
Tonight I can't hold a pen
Someone's got a stamp that I can borrow
I promise not to blow the address again..."

"Today" - Jennifer O'Connor

"An ocean of longing
I spit out the song and
I laugh with the tide that rolls in goes out
A bookshelf casts shadows
They dance out my window
The kids in the neighborhood scream and shout

Today, today
Today I stop guessing and give you my heart
Today, today
Today is a blessing
You're far and I'm missing you
I can't wait to be with you if only to say
Stay, stay

A puzzle of pieces
Mixed and unequal
I try to make sense of the shapes as they shift
I'm keeping a record
Desires that I can't afford
I hope to recieve each one as a gift

Today, today
Today I stop guessing and give you my heart
Today, today
Today is a blessing
You're far and I'm missing you
I can't wait to be with you if only to say
Stay, stay

Put your hand in mine
Just like you do all the time
In a room with the door closed
In a room when we're all alone

If there's a method to madness
And secrets bring sadness
I'll draw up a map we can leave today
Forget all the messes
We'll change our addresses
If there's one thing I know, it's how
To run away

Today
Today I stop guessing and give you my heart
Today, today
Today is a blessing
You're far and I'm missing you
I can't wait to be with you if only to say
Stay, stay
Stay, stay
Stay, stay
Stay, stay "

"Everybody Here Wants You" - Jeff Buckley

"I know everybody here wants you
I know everybody here thinks he needs you
I'll be waiting right here just to show you
How our love will blow it all away

Hmm, such a thing of wonder in this crowd
I'm a stranger in this town
You're free with me
And our eyes locked in downcast love
I sit here proud
Even now you're undressed in your dreams with me

Oh, I'm only here for this moment..."

"This Must Be the Place" - Miles Fisher

"Home - is where I want to be
But I guess I'm already there
I come home - she lifted up her wings
Guess that this must be the place
I can't tell one from another
Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time Before we were born

If someone asks, this is where I'll be . . . where I'll be..."

Shut it, I know you think i almost cried at work.

You were right.

my ass hurts. can I go now?

Reasons For Living

Updates from the Western Front.

Part one: In which I will try and be less an an angry, vulgar twat.

The eagle has landed. Which is to say, they found my car. The details are fuzzy as to where she was or what condition she's in, but the police recovered it and now I'm just waiting on the insurance company to bring it back. I'm trying really hard to be grateful, but depending on what other retarded shenanigans may or may not be involved, I may have to unleash a shitstorm of fury anyway. But the more I suffer the more God will return it to me, right?

part two: in which I will become less lazy

I like Fridays when I'm not needed.

part three: in which your humble narrator settles down.

I've had a boyfriend for a fucking YEAR.

part four: miscellaneous

I spelled miscellaneous right on the first try. But not the second.

bumming rides is for poor people. oh, wait....

waiting on the man. (friday dispatch)

wtf mates?

Ok, so I am out one car. Stolen. It's a dumb story, one that I'm not getting into.

File under: working with people is dumb.

Okay so there are two new girls at work. I am sure you have heard this story. New girl one went on the highly unnecessary organizing tangent. New girl two seems to generally be okay. Or so it would seem. New girl two works two jobs (maybe three). She works here with me and then she also subs and possibly tutors on he side. She signed up to do a presentation here, but then she also signed up to sub that day. She asked if I would cover her on the presentation. I told her no. Mostly because BOTH THOSE THINGS ARE OPTIONAL. I understand that in a multiple job situation, the highest paying job takes priority, but nobody said sign up for either of those things. My sympathy is sorely lacking.

Now I'm on a mission to find a comparable car for the insurance company. You try finding a 94 Saturn twin cam with ~85,000 miles on it. If you are successful, I'll make you a cookie and possibly buy you an hour with a hooker.

But on the upside, there are a lot of affordable to semi affordable Saturns out there.

and that's the news from the Kalamazoo River, where the women are strong, the men are heavily bearded, and the kids are slightly scarier than average.

I no longer pity the foo.

GAH. Look at me be mentally unstable.

I had to yell (yell = be visibly pissed and not be nice and smiley) at a student already. I've only been here an hour. Student comes in with a typed paper, fine. But then he's like "yeah I have no periods or commas." A single spaced page with two paragraphs AND NO PUNCTUATION. And he was not going to pull off the ee cummings type of pretension. Did I mention he comes in and he's like "I have 20 minutes before I need to get to class"? Did I also mention that I am on my period and my pretty new microdermal itches? Did I fail to mention that he asked if he could leave his paper here and could I double space it? Guess who has two thumbs and was absolutely NOT having it? Your humble narrator.

I told him he absolutely could not.

And on top of that, his paper was supposed to be "Love is Destiny"; instead he was operating on "Love is DENSITY". Calling destiny density throughout the paper is one thing, but he opens with definitions. AND HE DEFINED DENSITY. Like, did he think more than two seconds after he cut-pasted the definition? Did he notice that "the quality or state of being dense" sounds absolutely NOTHING like "something to which a person or thing is destined" or "a predetermined course of events often held to be an irresistible power or agency"?

You bet your sweet ass he didn't.

I'm already having a god-awful hair day, its dark and raining, and I am restbroken like you wouldn't believe.

Oh, and I can't find any of my beloved red pens? There was a better part of a box here a week ago. Blame that on the heifer that elected to unnecessarily reorganize everything. Also, the other new girl that was here, lent me three CDs. I brought them on last friday so I could give them to her during the following week, but she was either not here, or I forgot to tell her they were here. I go to check on them this morning, and I notice they're gone. Either stupid new girl moved them (which was/is un to the necessary) or other new girl was at the desk and picked them up. botch scenarios are equally plausible.

I might go smoke the 1/3 pack that's left from this week's pack.

Let's hope Pandora is less of a slut today. I've played my only CD twice already.

Things that may or may not hurt.

Get me out of here. Home is out of the question.

I started looking for jobs in Chicago again. I need to make some phone calls to Americorps. I have a few questions about their positions. I'm starting to get over KVCC. It might have something to do with new girls. I feel like I would prefer Stephanie at her most insufferable. Well, on some days at the very least. Today is definitely one of them. I can't tell if it would make me feel better or worse to construct a list of grievances.

I constantly miss Matt. No doubt. But I wonder how our relationship would change once I moved back out to Chicago. Knowing that my annoying habits will rapidly can and will lose their charm. But on the other hand, I would become significantly less fat. And everyone knows weight is inversely proportionate to how much bullshit people take from you. Actually, that's not true. That's more of a bell curve. Well, more of a wave. At a certain point, you get so fat that people are scared of how fat you are and that you might sit on them, so they will put up with whatever bullshit you deem appropriate.

I digress.

Back to the original subject. Moral of the story, we'll see.

I'll be coming into a little money at the end of the week,and the local parlors are starting to do microdermal anchors. New Addiction does them for 60. I feel that's reasonable. I think they would look great with my stars, but as knee-high sock season rears its frosty head, I can only see this ending poorly. Other considered locations: collarbone(s), nape of my neck(which would look brilliant with that Chicago flag tattoo I've been lusting after), right above my ample cleavage, or maybe even my wrist. I also am years overdue for a touchup on my stars, and everyone seems to recommend I should go easy on the body bling for now. Translation? New ink! The only problem with that is, I want something that is not going to look retarded with my constantly yo-yo-ing weight, but also is easily hidden should I go on a job interview and will not look like a poor life decision should I decide to go for the big white wedding.

The South side of Chicago is not as bad as everyone says.

As I ignore Boz Scaggs and George Michael duking it out in myhead. Must be Tuesday.

I have more or less killed a pack in a glorified weekend.

Pack purchased: last friday.

Pack finished: sometime before this friday

My fingers are stained pink from my latest hair experiment. We'll see how dry and angry it gets before I have to cut it all off anyway.

I am dressed like a crazy homeless lady today. I can't say that I really care.

Reading through some of my old writing, I realize that i am not as bad as I think i am. One professor dared to even call me "impressive".

So I think I need to write again. Except I have noting to write about.

I need to get out there and live.

I need to get out there and fail. Just face my fear and fucking fail all on my own. Even though I resent challenges in the moment, I am always grateful for them later. Chicago or bust?

I may or may not come out of October with yet another body modification. I'm sensing a trend.

December 2006: 1st (and as of now, only)tattoo
August 2007: Industrial piercing
October 2008: Traigus piercing

I'm running out of time on 2009.

Maybe I'll come out of the relationship closet at Thanksgiving. I don't know why that time seems so appealing for people to do so. It seems appealing for me because that will be just around the one year mark for me and Matt.

My mother deserves to know why I'm taking off to hang out with a boy on the most holy of food days. I don't even know what's happening as far as Thanksgiving goes this year.

I guess we'll see.

Story of my fucking life.

(514): in hindsight, drinking 2 bottles of wine probably wasnt going to put me in an optimal position for a job interview

I have one thing to say: you better WORK.

Ok that's a lie. I have more things to say than that.

Work is busy (thanks Obama!), and I can't wait until 3 pm friday. But for once the week is flying by, and very soon I will get to be with Matt. We can have alone time without secretly flipping the fuck out. That, and I haven't gotten any in a really long time. like at least a month.

The lab has become a landscape of mumblers. Mostly this woman I want to choke all the time. She is just so abrasive and makes me want to stress eat. She says she needs help, but really, she just lies someone there watching her. I knew I should have dumped her on the math lab, but noooooooooo, I felt like there was some sort of karmic debt to pay. That's my penance for the day, right?

Its cold. I should find socks.

tales of disaster and nicotine notes

I promised the story of what the fuck went on this weekend. If the Kenny thing was the icing on the weird week cake, this saturday was the topper.

Saturday morning starts out innocuous enough: wake up, pack, load, coffee, drive. Drive, drive, drive to Matt's parents' house. Upon my departure from the house I realize: I LEFT MY FUCKING DRESS IN KALAMAFUCKINGZOO. All other options are in Kalamazoo as well. shoes are in the car, tights are in my bag, dress is trapped in the motherfucking closet ( closet....)So I go get my hair done and then, with about 5 hours to go until the wedding, commence the arduous task of dress shopping. Target had one possibility but it wasn't, you know, IT. TJ Maxx, nada. Dress Barn, nada and a half. Touch base with Matt, who still needs to pick up a present, so I head back over to his parents house because he'll probably have to go to the mall too. The couple was registered at three places: Crate and Barrel, Pottery Barn, and Williams and Sonoma. Closest C&B is at fucking Somerset, which is pretty much the antithesis of where we need to be. We know for sure that PB and W&S are at Briarwood (the humungo Ann Arbor mall) so its decided that out best bet is to head there. While Matt gets the present, I proceed to hit approximately 347,956 stores in hopes of finding an outfit. No such luck. After much deliberation, I end up dropping 50 dollars on a top and skirt from The Limited. Less than an hour to go, we get our shit and leave. Upon exiting the parking lot, we notice that the world beyond the mall is a traffic jammy place. ITS FUCKING GAME DAY, and our route takes us right past ground zero, so there are cars everywhere. After much swearing, smoking, and a few wrong turns, we enter the wedding hall, sweaty, swearing, and speeding. I'm over the fact that I'm barefoot in a semi public restroom, and I am over handicap stall guilt. I needed the space. We make it with just minutes to spare.

Anyone who knows me knows what kind of stress I am capable of putting myself under in these situations.

But then we danced, we drank, we laughed, something wonderful happened, and then we left.

get your mind out of the gutter, I was still getting rid of 28 days worth of unused baby.

but let's just say I'm still the marrying kind.

thirty minutes away from drugs and real food.

1. On behalf of hearing some good news from a dear friend, SQUEE.

2. I just creeped Chuck Klosterman on facebook (because we're friends), and saw pictures from his wedding. I was full of mixed emotions that come out like a waldorf salad. Its mostly happy with a bit of cool, with just a touch of envy, for flavor. The bride's dress was cool, non traditional, very thirties, and it was white. I'm stopping here because I am creeping myself out, talking to the internet about the wedding of someone I've never met (only admired from a very long interwebbed distance). Weddings are the grandest. Even if 2009 was/is the year of the wedding.

I'll tell the story of the last wedding I went to next time.

The lights are going to go out on Broadway, that's the only explanation.

Just when I thought I had successfully exited the fucking outer limits (or twilight zone), last night puts the icing on the fucking weird cake.

After a highly uncharacteristic late night Wendy's run, I go to meet people at Roadhouse. I was already in a pissy mood due to things that happen when you're not pregnant, the fact that it seemed like I was invited purely by accident (probable), and from the time I got there, it seemed like nobody wanted me there (equally irrational and logical, but a conclusion that was arrived at nonetheless). So I get home at like 2 am, and I'm not tired at all. Maybe I was still hyped up from the night before. So I kind of lay in bed and just watch TV. Jill is in her bed as well and we thought we were both going to call it a night. But then the following vocal dialogue takes place:

Jill: Tell me why Kenny just messaged me
Me: Whaaaat? [runs in Jill's room. Lo and behold, he has sent a message that simply says "Love you"] Let me see what happens when I get on facebook.

a few minutes pass, and then via facebook chat, the following exchange occurs (with chunks eaten by facebook for who knows what reason):

Deleted by facebook, but he opens with "nope". Understandable confusion ensues. It's 3 am. But then...

Ken: I know you're in love with me...but you're in New Mexico now...or some shit...so it's just not in the cars

(I should preface this with the fact that I'm drunk...so don't take me that seriously)

but seriously...you should just accept certain undeniable consequences

3:10am me:okaaaayyyyyy

will do?

3:10am Ken: haha

sorry

I know it's still mid-afternoon where you are, so this probably seems awkward

3:11am me:I'm in kalamzoo

its 3 am and this is just the icing on the weirdest fucking cake

3:12am Ken: oh well...so it's your fault for being up at four thirty

weird cake, though, eh?

3:13am me: lol

yeah

btw where did new mexico come from?

3:14am Ken: I thought you were moving southwest

3:14am me: noooo

3:14am Ken: and figured it was McCain country, for some reason

3:15am me:I helped Theresa move to AZ...

lol

3:15am Ken: haha..thought you were moving there too

3:16am me: nooooope

lol

3:16am Ken: which means I can still convince you to move to Chi-town

!!!

3:16am me:lol

3:16am Ken: done and done

3:16am me: what happend to certian undeniable consequences?

[another brief chunk that facebook doesn't think should exist]

[I assume he apologizes again]

me:its cool

3:29am Ken:(I'll shut up now)

3:29am me: you're fine

shut up only if you want to

3:30am Ken: haha

I

er

I'll keep hitting on you if it's not that creepy

3:31am me: what girl minds getting hit on by the notorious Kenny W?

lol

3:31am Ken: haha

most of them

3:32am me: that's sad

mostly for them

3:32am Ken: :P

that's what I always say

3:32am me:lol

3:34am Ken: still feel like an ass for never...pursuing you

(come on #1)

3:34am me: there's no need to feel like an ass

3:34am Ken: that's what I do, though

3:35am me: feel like an ass for no apparent reason?

3:35am Ken: more or less

3:36am me: we all have our quirks...

3:37am Ken: I'm sorry I missed you last time you were in Chicago

chalk that up to (thankfully now ex) girlfriends

3:37am me:lol

crazy broads?

3:38am Ken: yup

bad mistakes all around

3:39am me: it happens

3:40am Ken: yup

well...I'm gonna go watch Californication

3:41am me: okay

have fun

3:42am Ken: and I promise that I'll hit on you on a later date

you're just too much woman for one poor drunk bastard at the moment

(figuratively...not literally...because that would be a really weird thing to say otherwise)

3:44am me: lol

3:44am Ken: although it's a weird thing already

shit

I'm just going to stop talking now

3:45am me:ok I should probably sleep now anyway

lol

3:46am Ken: hehe

alrighty

I'll hit on you later

er

talk to you later

or both...whatever comes first

3:46am me:lol

3:47am Ken: someday...

3:49am Ken:you will be mine...

3:57am Ken: heh...I'm gonna shut up now

goodnight

3:57am me:lol

you said that once before

lol

night

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Okay, so I know I would never leave Matt for Kenny (or at the very least 97% sure I wouldn't), but this is one of those unattainable one that got away kinds of things that bugs the fuck out of me. I never had a problem rejecting the other guys because there were no feelings to really speak of. It seems like once i settle down, this always happens. Like either he's seeing someone, or I am, and its just frustrating to play the what if game.

...not that I have any need to. I love Matt, and if he proposed somewhere down the line, I would undoubtedly say yes. But is it so wrong to kind of flip out over a longstanding college crush telling me everything I wanted to hear a year ago?

probably. I mean, its only been ten months since I started dating Matt (14 if you count the last time we dated), vs a fluctuating obsession of 4, 5ish years? That just makes me human right? And not to mention that whole conversation loses some of its weight when he chatted up at least two others in the same time frame (3-4 am).

I'm being weird and making far too much of it.

Sorry my brain vomited.

cramps. black eye (not mine). random people sleeping on my futon. It's like my unofficial welcome back party.

High five: I'm not preggo

fml: I'm fucking up at work already. (missed 2 class visits.)

Um, this is mostly so I don't forget what the fuck went on last night.

Around 8:15, my friend Stephanie calls me to hang out and get adult bevvys. She says she's buying. I have never had a problem with this. I drive to her place and we walk over to Harvey's. We're walking when she gets a call from her friend Brent. She invites him to join us. Brent brings Zack, who has been putting things in Stephanie, and has been slightly toolish. We let him off the hook for personal reasons. Its the four of us boozin, have a few laughs. Me and Brent are really hitting it off. Really hitting it off. Like if i were single and I played my cards a little differently, I could have totally gotten some. Zack and Stephanie take off, but Brent and I continue to bullshit into the night. He offers to walk me home, er, to my car, which I was going to ask him to do anyway. A block and a half to go, if that, we see people sitting on the porch. We talk to them and we are nice. They are nice. They share their beer with Brent. One neglected detail: Brent likes to talk shit. A lot. He thinks its funny when people are mad. I blame the fact that he is 5'5, 5'6 on a good day. The next thing I know, this kid who was passed out on the porch leaps up, and just starts roughing him up a little. No big thing I think he can hold his own, so I wait to see if he needs assistance. When Brent ends up on a car, I go over with one of the other girls to break it up. Its too late, the damage has been done. Brent is bleeding from the head. It looks a lot worse than it really is, but he's having issues remembering what happened five minutes ago. He's definitely not concussed, just drunk. We then proceed to go 1.5 blocks in 1.5 hours. It takes that long to make amends with the porch people, get Brent cleaned up and WALK A BLOCK AND A FUCKING HALF. People keep talking and I just want to go to bed. We get to my car, and I try to take him back to where he's staying (with Zack, I think). Epic fail. He can't remember and neither can I. I'm not interrupting Zack and Stephanie, regardless of what they may or may not be doing. Brent says that everybody's sleeping and he wouldn't be able to get in anyway, so i take his tiny ass home with me. Nothing happens, I just set him up on the futon with water and blankets. I proceed to write Jill a don't freak the fuck out about the boy that magically appeared in our living room note and try to go to bed. its 3:30, maybe 4 at this point. I have to be in to work by 9. At 8:30, I'm ready to go, so I get Brent up. I shepherd him to my car and drop him off at Academy and Westenege. That was my night.

I shit you not.

It's better if you hear me tell it, all Moth Podcast style.

And if this don't work, I'm doing to church....

It's freakout time again, but I'm totally going to blame this on the move and the crash diets.

I have thirty dollars to see me through Roadhouse tonight and whatever else Matt wants when he gets in on friday.

It looks like I won't get paid until saturday because I forgot to do my direct deposit form, and they mail the checks out. It's only a one week check, but I could stay stocked in smokes and tortilla chips and salsa. Fml, kinda.

I miss my cat.

I miss summer.

I miss my boyfriend, even though I see him in three days and I just saw him two weeks ago.

Less than an official week in town, and I'm already bored. The new people at work are cool but weird, and I am not sure if a semester without strangulation can happen.

I still don't work with Clara. Thank God for even the smallest of blessings, I suppose.

Living the dream.
Living the dream!
Living the dream?

Seems to be the theme of today.

Its still cold in here, like I remember.

I should clean my room.

I should do a lot of things.

There is a huge spider on the window.

It's a cold day down here in hell, and its a long way up there to heaven...

but its okay, 'cause we're singing with the angels.

My unofficial Detroit birthday celebration begins this evening. Its mostly drinking and some dancing in a pretty dress.

...and I'm nervous. No idea as to why, but I'm wake up while its still dark out and fruitlessly attempt to sleep some more nervous.

Lord only knows why, but I have an idea.

I think its because I'm paranoid, but really all of this is my own doing. Matt's going to be in town, so of course he's coming out. I invited Heather (his ex that I'm friends with) and her bf too. Its been like 3, maybe 4 years since they've seen each other, and they promised to play nice, but in the back of my head, my low self esteem voice is all loud and obnoxious. She (only a girl could be this irrational and mean, so of course this voice is female) brings up the hypothetical scenario of what if he sees her and falls in love with her all over again? And then let's multiply this feeling of dread by self loathing and overall fatness for cheating on my diet yesterday, and I guess I figured out why I couldn't sleep.

Holy run ons batman.

I also had cramps this morning, and I hope they are PMS cramps and not bleeding from the crotch in the next 48 hours cramps.

but in other news, I have music obsessions. My latest audio loves:

1. "Lovegame" - Lady Gaga
2. "Paparazzi" - Lady Gaga
3. "Carby" - Discovery (f/ Ezra Konig from Vampire Weekend)
4. "If U Seek Amy" - Britney Spears
5. "I Wish I Knew Natalie Portman" - K-OS
6. "Many Moons" - Janelle Monae
7. "You're a jerk" - New Boyz
8. "Its OK, But Just This Once" - Gym Class Heroes
9. "Harder Better Faster Stonger (Neptunes Remix)" - Daft Punk
10. "Make Her Say" (aka "I Poke Her Face") - Kid Cudi, Kanye West, Common
11. "D.O.A. (Death of Auto-tune)" - Jay-Z
12. "Seven Nation Army" - Nostalgia 77
13. "Who's That Girl?"/"Qui Est Cette Fille?" - Robyn/Yelle
14. "Great DJ" (Calvin Harris remix) - The Ting Tings
15. "The Resolution" - Jack's Mannequin

Ask me about the kitchen-1990s link.

Maybe its the lack of food that makes me crazy.

in case you missed it because I didn't say it

I have my job at KVCC back. I'm moving back to the 'zoo.

God help us all. Even me.

I didn't die. Nobody died.

Or at least not on my behalf.

I did the drive to Arizona thing. It was mostly fun. Completely ridiculous (in every conceivable definition), and totally educational. I still have pictures to post.

I'm not delivering the details because I wrote them in a notebook, and that's what its all about. It was a giant creative crap, which is to say that I am no longer creatively constipated. Now its more of a matter of eating less creative cheese.

Jesus Christ, that was a disgusting metaphor.

I'm updating from Matt's computer at his apartment. He works today. Nobody's calling me back, so I'm just sitting here until something better comes along or until 8, whichever comes first.

Sean Connery is Shatnering "In My Life" by The Beatles. I am loving it.

It took me 40ish minutes to condition my hair. Part of me is excited the perm is growing out exponentially, but part of me shakes my fist at it.

My self esteem is on a roller coaster. Yesterday's caloric intake: ~5 (+/- 2 error) cigarettes, california roll, a glass of vodka cranberry, 2 crab rangoons, ~10 cheez-its. Today, as of 2:01 pm CDT: 1 cigarette, 2 pieces of orbit gum. I see what the anorexics have going. its an effective program. This entire week has has been an exercise in calorie removal or reduction. It's been at least three days since i had any proper bread.

Its not so bad being crazy. My notions are not entirely misguided.

Saw The Wackness. Most of it anyway. I love it.

I think that's all I'm capable of for now.

Altering my brain chemisrtry with miracle whip and cayenne pepper

I'm helping Theresa drive to Arizona. The flights are booked. The notes will be booked. I get to see Adam in NC, and i get to freak all my Arkansas family out with my tat and piercings. Maybe I will find some 2 gauges for my ears before I go, or while on the road. Photos will be taken, notes will committed to paper.

Laundry part one is done. Packing needs to happen. I even cleaned out my car, ditching the last evidence of tobacco use. I found an empty booze container, which would have gone swimmingly if discovered while I was gone. Or if I was pulled over. Containers have been appropriately disposed of.

Still not preggo. High five!

Finished a book without pictures on every page! Now its back to those.

Things that will be read before my birthday:

1. Ultimate Zombie Survival Handbook - Max Brooks
2. V For Vendetta
3. Anything else I have on loan from Matt.
4. The Girl With Curious Hair - David Foster Wallace (to be purchased/borrowed from the library)

I'm extending my US tour. Originally, the final gig was July 29 (30), as I return to Detroit. July 31 I'm taking off for Chicago, then Kalamazoo. I return August 4. After that, I will have to learn to cool my jets. But that's the problem with wanderlust: the more you feed it, the more it grows.

When I want to creep myself out, I think about the fact that I've been with Matt for 8 months. EIGHT. That's almost a baby. That's 1.3333333333333333 seasons shy of a year. When the big 1-2 rolls around, you might find me passed out on the couch.

I've got to get out of here. I'm going to ask for my old job back and see if I can pick up another part time. This living at home shit is not working. I'm getting fat (from not walking anywhere), bored (from having a grand total of 3 friends in the area)and depressed (from living at home and the previously discussed reasons) all the time. I'm too far from most of the things that mean anything to me. I'll try applying for grants and grad school, because I want to be as unemployable as possible.

I am just a poor boy, though my story's seldom told...

I may have two side view mirror by the time August rolls around. Hells yes.

Commands to a Whore Headed West.

In other words, westward ho!

*silence*

Thank you, thank you, don't forget to tip your waitress.

I've been trying to write, but I feel mentally constipated. The fact that its summer and I would much rather drive, and drink and eat and be merry and read and play with friends, lovers, and fire doesn't help anything.

I am still jobless, but I have resolved to head back west, a couple hours at a time. I am the last rat on the sinking ship known as the Detroit Job Market. Abandon ship!I can swim. Its already July, and I am seriously considering asking for my old job back. I can move back in with Jill, I'm pretty sure and that will keep me safe until December, if not beyond. I can work at KVCC and find a drinking job. Then onward to Chicago, which will become Austin.

I'm pretty bad at math, but 2.5 is less than 5. And 0 is less than the two of them put together. I don't like being far from friends. And boyfriends. And porches that are good for drinking.

Sometimes I worry that boyfriend drinks too much.

Sometimes I worry that I'm a horrible person.

I love my boyfriend's family.

I've been waiting for this moment all my life, but its not quite right

Last night I had a dream. What I remember now is fuzzy. I remember the main ideas though. Okay, main idea. I'm standing at the corner closest to my house, with my mom. My mom is talking to the neighbors while I scream at people who don't stop at stop signs. Like full blown Tourette's yelling, screaming, swears. I made up a few good ones, but I can't remember them now. My voice was getting all hoarse and chipmunky and a few people laughed, including a douchebag who did up and down finger point gun as he drove away. Don't ask me how he did it. I yelled some more, and my mom got mad at me for saying "goddamn".

At the moment I'm listening to Shawn Mullins sing "Wake Me Up (Before You Go Go)".

Matt keeps lending me books faster than I can read them. No, really. My queue:

Sin in the Second City - Karen Abbott
The Zombie Survival Guide - Max Brooks
V For Vendetta - Alan Moore/David Lloyd
book that I can't remember the title or author. I think its a memoir.
books #2 and 3 in the Fables Series by Bill Willingham

I also am re-reading Jpod by Douglas Coupland.

Had a job and then I quit. Might take a gig in Ann Arbor with clean water people.

Maybe it was the kind of day the last couple days had been, but I came to the realization that I hate the suburbs, and most of the people that they produce. This is a sweeping generalization. A lot of my favorite people are from these obnoxious sprawling lands. Or maybe its just Detroit's suburbs that bother me. In particular, the eastern ones. Everything's so far apart. Everyone just looks stupid. I just found the whole area obnoxious with its dog-friendly stores, orange skin, and teenagers listening to country. I was hanging out with a friend yesterday, driving all over the landscape covered in bright, pale gray clouds. Maybe it was the friend. She was rubbing me the wrong way yesterday. Maybe it was the fact that I spent most of my time in the north or west parts of town: Royal Oak/Ferndale, Farmington (Hills), Novi, Southfield. Maybe its because I have devoted most of my legal adult life in pursuit of the west. Maybe its because I still pursue the west.

I need an oil change.

plea from a cat named capitalism

I got a job. That's a lie. I got a place to go to for 8 hours a day with no windows (except in the bathroom), where I sit and wait for people to call. In the meantime I have a phone book where I dial a lot of "wrong numbers" or disconnected ones. I was always aware of the economic situation in Michigan, but it didn't hit me until I found out firsthand how many businesses have gone belly up since the publication of the yellow pages in feb 2009.

What I do: sales for a fledgling internet radio station. Strictly commission. Strictly suckage. I can't even close my eyes and pretend its an internship.

I mentally quit yesterday. I'm pretty sure I'm physically quitting today. I need more return on my investment. They're in Ferndale, right next to the WAB (Woodward avenue Brewery). I should have known better. I have to fight the urge to get drunk at lunch on a daily basis. I have to pay $4.25 a day in quarters for parking. I am 8 soon to be 12 dollars in the hole. $12 is close to 3/4 of a tank of gas for me (thank you very much Saturn). I could have gone to Kalamazoo on what I paid to sit still. I need more security than that. I guess its back to the mall. And Monster. And Craigslist. And standing by traffic lights by the expressway with my sign that says in glitter: will work for money.

When I write it all out like that, it seems like a no brainer that i should quit.

Maybe I can get my mom to sponsor my next reading excursion after I finish these 4 other books I've got going right now, courtesy of Le Boyfriend. I have an overwhelming urge to read Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney

Will the Postal Service ever put out a new CD?

fml.

Doing a little D.A.N.C.E.

Still not preggo. I was scared for a minute because I was closing in on 3 months with no word from uterus-land. One month was stress and the other was...who knows weight loss/gain from the smoking and the quitting, maybe? I should just get on the pill and save myself from this monthly anguish, but something's stopping me. Sheer laziness, probably.

I'm not too lazy to make a compilation of summer jams though.

1. "I Got You Dancing" - Lady Sovereign
2. " D.A.N.C.E." - Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly.
3. "Cappuccino" - The Knux
4. "Day N Nite" - Kid Cudi
5. "Sex On Fire" - Kings of Leon
6. "If I Ever Feel Better" - Phoenix
7. "Come On and Get It (Up in Dem Guts)" - Zach Galifinakis f/ Fiona Apple
8. "Bitches Ain't Shit" - Ben Folds
9. "American Boy" - Estelle
10. "D.A.N.C.E." - Justice
11. "Fame < Infamy" - Fall Out Boy
12. "Why Must You Always Dress in Black" - Ben harper and Relentless 7
13. "Show Me Love" - Robyn
14. "Bang on A Milli" - Team 9
15. "Summer Never Ends"- Har Mar Superstar and Northern State
16. "If U Seek Amy" - Britney Spears

that's enough to get us started, yes?

This is going to be a brilliant summer. I can feel it.

the number of lines on my hands is directly proportionate to the number of directions my life could take.

I'm listening to Spoon. At work. Drinking pretty gross tea. It's pomegranate green tea, whose flavor perhaps does not lend itself to deliciousness when served cold or lukewarm. I need a spoon to eat yogurt.

It will cost $300 to repair the brakes I'm driving to Chicago on. It's the rear brakes, don't worry.

Theresa gave me really awesome art paper. Perhaps I will paint my resume on it with watercolor paints.

I think I'll miss Kalamazoo when I go. nay, I know. I like the option of walking places. Woodward Avenue Brewery, meet your newest regular.

I still don't have a job lined up.

My dreams are haunted with open roads. Alton, Memphis, Philadelphia, DC, Truth or Consequences, Yuma, Joshua Tree.

I STILL don't have a job lined up.

The amount of patience I have for the people who come in to work is directly proportionate to the amount of time I have in Kalamazoo.I'm reluctant to leave.

I don't think I'm as fat as I was. Smoking: the one thing I can do right.

Apologies for the personal pronoun abuse.

this modern love

I love the way my bed smells. It smells like Matt and dryer sheets. If I could capture that smell in a bottle, it would be great. I could just spray it whenever I miss him. It's kind of a catch 22 though, because while I could just conjure a facsimile of his presence almost instantly, it would still occur to me that he's not there and I'm just pretending.

For the first time in a long time, (long time = ~4ish weeks) I feel okay. I'm not worried/anxious or stressed. I'm mellow for non-chemical reasons. Business plan's not bugging me, I'm not worried about being fat any more than normal now, and Matt has made it apparent that I'm not going to be alone for awhile.

In the words of The Eels, everything's going to be cool this Christmas.

Ask me if I started packing for an early May moveout.

There is hummus in my fridge. It whispers to me from across town.

Let's look for jobs today.

Now playing: "Fa-Fa-Fa" - Datarock

the tension and the spark.

More secrets:

I am not mad about the snow. On the contrary, it's actually gorgeous. I wish I had time to take pictures this morning, it really is soooooo pretty. Besides, it is not that cold out, which kind of adds to the not minding ~2-3 inches of actual cold, wet snow in April.

Michigan weather: the meteorological April fool's joke.

This morning seems even more appropriate for soup and trip hop than friday afternoon. I needed a lot of things on friday.

Freakout update: no longer ticked about the AWOL boyfriend, and have officially moved on to the future. In about 5 weeks, I will be staring down the barrel of a six-month old relationship. Excuse me while I don't know what the fuck to do with that. brb.

That is why God gave me Tricky.

A conversation with my mom yesterday (via phone):

mom: did you go to church today?
me: no
mom: did you think about it?
me: yeah.

I'm leaving out the parts after because its funnier this way.

I bought a lot of groceries yesterday. I'm so stoked.

There is still pasta salad that needs making.

when I think of heaven, deliver me in a black winged bird

I get anxious, and I abuse whatever I can get my hands on.

Abuses in the last seven days (in no particular order):

1. Coffee (panera. hazelnut.)
2. Cigarettes (cloves. 2-3 a day.)
3. Hydroxyzine (possibly the only word I will ever get to type with xyz in it. For those who don't know, its my prescription for that itchy skin thing I had. Its primarily given as an antihistamine, but it is also used to treat mild anxiety. It helps on two fronts: a) I feel like everything is gonna be cool this Christmas, and b) it keeps the post nasal drip at bay, which has come back with a rampant vengeance ever since I decided smoking is cool again )
4. the internet (I wholeheartedly throw myself into the not for profit industry of nerdlicious distraction.)
5. my friends ( I feel I talk about myself and my problems way too much)
6. my job (I am no longer little miss nice tutor. I am just this side of "who pissed in her cheerios?" bitchy when I work)
7. the music of Fall Out Boy (I've been feeling just that bummed and self-indulgent lately.)

Have not heard from Matt since Sunday.

me < thrilled. I think this may be the beginning of our first fight. I wouldn't be so upset if we lived in the same state, or even the same time zone. We don't, therefore keeping in touch is important. I am pretty sure I'm not talking to him at the moment, which is pretty fucking childish, but that's the only way I can articulate things right now. It's really hard to do though.

Jesus, my communication skills suck.

I'm thinking of getting a tumblr account. I'd take more pictures then.

Super happy funtime now!

1.

2. I'm turning into a type nerd. Maybe I should have pursued graphic design or visual communications.

3. six words about a song, yo

4. scrabble, son

Can't Tell Me Nothin

Secret time:

I started smoking again. I'm doing my best to keep that ish on the stealth, but I'm not trying very hard either. I've just been having crazy cravings lately, even though there's no real trigger. If its any consolation, they're cloves. The Djarum Blacks I will always love, which are actually worse for you, but sometimes, I just have to.

Okay, I lied. Twice. Lie #1: (from the post immediately prior to this)I will not discuss sex today. I know I said I would, but I have no real profound thoughts on the subject at the moment. Lie #2: I think I know the trigger to my great American nicotine comeback. I looked at my naked body in the mirror, and decided I am getting too fat for my own good. So its not that I am feeding an addiction per se, but fulfilling a dietary need.

Smoking also keeps the crazy at bay. The crazy is a relatively recent development, and may be at least a partial case of PMS. The anniversary of my first formal dumping was this week. Matt and I are on approximately the same timetable we were on the first time we dated. Almost to the point of deja vu. So I'm anxious like whoa, waiting for that text/im/phone call that ultimately says I'm always wrong about everything ever, and no, I'm not good enough. It's been about 36 hours since I heard from him, and I just keep fearing the worst. Like soap opera coma. Okay, maybe not a coma, but maybe a coma. I can't believe I've turned into one of those girlfriends. In all likelihood, homeslice is just busy. Or tired. Or some combination. Or maybe his phone broke. There are a multitude of reasons that are more likely than the ones in my head. But the scenarios in my head are no less valid.

I would like to smoke now, please and thank you.

maybe I'll try my hand at writing serials. I'm addicted.

I'm going to a donkey show tonight. I'm wearing heels.

Something happens and I'm head over heels.

I bought candles yesterday. My room smells like Pier 1. I like it.

Visiting Chicago was a gas. I met a puppy. Well, Matt's puppy. Her name is Ruby, and all I can think of whenever they call her is the Kaiser Cheifs song. I think they named her after the kaiser Cheifs song. I can't be 100% certain though. She's a sweet thing, and seems to like me. She picks up on my chill vibes, and likes to cuddle. It's kind of funny how dogs can be smart and stupid all at the same time.

I decided I couldn't live with someone I'm dating. I know I will have to get over that shit when I get married, but as it stands right now, I like having my space. Maybe that's why long distance relationships aren't such a big problem for me. I like having an escape hatch. It also makes me appreciate the time I spend with that person so much more, because we're not bickering about actual stupid shit. (not to be confused with kind of stupid shit, like how tall Macaulay Culkin is)

I've never lived in the same city as someone I've dated before. Okay, that's a lie, I did once, and it was a disaster. I was in high school, and the relationship was the byproduct of a blind date. It lasted two weeks, and culminated with my dumping him on the night of his prom. I want to say it was in the limo, in front of White Castle. That may be dramatic embellishment on my part though, even though I can't say for sure. He wouldn't give me my space. But, to be fair to him, I never said give me some space. But to be fair to me, I was 17 and didn't know what I was doing or how to articulate my feelings. So it doesn't count right?

I still want a (more or less) traditional wedding. It hasn't come up lately, so I can't really gauge my progress.

Damn being a girl is hard work.

...it feels good to be a gangster.

Coming soon: more thoughts on sex.

Sing me something soft, sad and delicate

I'm back from Mississippi, and I am proud to say nobody died.

I also got to see Memphis the hard way. On Saturday, we missed our train out of MS, which I had nothing to do with. (I realize it's catty, petty, and childish to say that, but its true.) I blame the fatty, fried and relatively instantaneous food pit stop. As we saw the train pull away, we plan to head it off at the next stop. Three hours, one daylight savings related freakout, one pill, one massive nicotine, several involuntary face twitches on the right side of my face, and one state line later, I am gazing at the lights of downtown Memphis, Tennessee through a train window, sipping a delicious vodka tonic.

I decided I'd like to go back to TN under different circumstances. I'd like to see what Paul Simon saw in Graceland. I want to take in downtown Memphis from outside the car.

In other news, I'm manning the turntables once again. I know it will be a beautiful reunion. I can't hardly wait.

This just in: four months later, we're talking forever.

From him, 2:46 AM: so yeah it'd be ever so lovely to be with you for as long as you'll have me

I can't help but think about sex. Not just in the horny early 20s way, but in the sexual satisfaction psychology sector too. If one were to enjoy being restrained or even knocked around, I'm curious as to what it would implicate about their inner issues, why that would trigger pleasure for them. Part of me has to learn that not everything has a motive. 98% of things do, though. This is why anarchy does not agree with me.

I want to be disinherited from my shyness that is criminally vulgar.

Furthermore, I need to start making peace with the fact that I want to start collecting MA and MFA degrees. I can think of three that I want already, but I have a phobia of the word thesis.

Haze of Love

Jesus Christ. I think I got spoiled at work. I think its the PMS, but the temper and the attitude I have to actively work to check lately. Lady came in today wanting to know what her assignment was. I gritted my teeth, and hoped she thought it was a smile. She lumbered off to ask her teacher what she was supposed to be doing (who'da thunk that the TEACHER would know what she needs to do?)She came back. She's supposed to do 4-5 pages on "a debatable topic". Obviously, this will require research with the aid of a computer. Did I mention she's COMPLETELY FUCKING COMPUTER ILLITERATE? Like, I had to show her how to log in, how to get to the internet, where to type the web address, why she couldn't click on the sponsored links on Google...this paper's due Friday. She, of course, is a one finger hunt and pecker. She should have started typing this paper last Tuesday.

I officially advocate the fuck out of placement tests for anything lower than master's level courses.

But other than that, my life has been lovely. I like Barbies and crossword puzzles and tea and blankets and CSI and America's Next Top Model in marathon form (like there is any other!).

I dyed my hair with the idea that eventually it will lighten, redden and do its thing. I think I'm going back to braids.

I need to write more.

I need to finish The Watchmen.

Also, I still have no idea what to give up for lent. ideally something to make me thin. Maybe I will give up not smoking.

There you are, wild and free

So, I (kinda) put myself out of my misery and took a pregnancy test. Good news: I dropped clean on that shit.

Downside: I still have this mystery rash on my torso mostly, and it itches sometimes, but things didn't start itching until this week. There's a kind of rough layer of skin on my lips too. My hands are starting to look weird too. My skin on my face is not looking the way it usually does, and I feel like I just look toxic overall. I also might have a UTI. Great. I see the doctor on Saturday. I can just see it now:

SCENE: INT. Doctor's office exam room. Day. Not that it matters since exam rooms have no windows. ENTER DR. L.

Dr. L (not my regular doctor, but he is the other doctor my regular doctor practices with): what brings you in today?

Me: this occasionally itchy rash, UTI symptoms, and an overall diseased look.

Dr. L: I see. We're going to need backup, a dermatologist, and a cigarette. (into walkie talkie) Breaker, breaker, 1-9, this is Dr. Manhattan to the front, do you read me, over?

Walkie talkie: (indeciperable gibberish)

Dr. L: go ahead and get the skin man, a cancer stick, and a slice of your mom's fantastic pie. We're also going to need all the backup we can get.

Me: does the cigarette do something for the rash?

Dr. L: no, but judging from the look of things, we could be here awhile.

Me: oh (starts nicotine lust)

(ENTER FABULOUS BACKUP SINGERS, in tight magenta sequinned dresses. They should be hefty black women, like Jennifer Hudson in Dreamgirls, but far fatter. There are three of them. All parts delivered by them are sung.)

Fabulous backup singers: be here awhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiile!

Me: Can I at least have some pie?

Dr. L: may as well, looks as if you're going to die anyway.

Fabulous backup singers: you're gonna diiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!! (jazz hands)

END SCENE.

But on the upside, the sore throat and overall shittiness is going away.

And...still in love. Still mentally going places I have no business going. Like entertaining the notion of having a family. What is wrong with me? All I do is judge people who start that kind of talk three months into a relationship. I had issues with other people dropping the l bomb as early as we did. And now all I can see is a yard full of kids with crazy curly hair and caramel skin. Jesus Christ, stop me.

Even if you counted the 4 months we were together prior to 2008, that still only puts us at ~7 months. Which is still kind of early for that kind of talk.

Dammit, love is a cynic's kryptonite.

And now, to remember what kind of person I was like before I became a total sellout, I'm reading The Watchmen. I like it. It's dark, and reminiscent of the noir Hammett novels I used to read and adore.

I want snacks.

It's cold.

Excess ain't rebellion. I'm drinking what they're selling.

Turns out I am paranoid without even partaking in herbal activities.

I'm fine. I just like to give myself a good scare, just to see if I can still be scared.

Good news: I can.

The internet/server ate my last two (possibly three) attempts at publicly expressing myself. Let's go for the gold son!

Apparently "Sex on Fire" won a Grammy. You go, Kings of Leon!

When money talks, I hate to listen, but lately it's been screaming in my ear.

I wish that people who are in charge of doling out the jobs were cool. It's just like, judge me on how qualified I am, and not how many holes I have in my head or the colors I've added to my skin and hair. I need a job that pays well and does not mind a few extra holes or visible tattoos.

I love this record, baby, but I can't see straight anymore.

As long as the soda cans are red, white, and blue ones!

I'm excited for the weekend. To the point where new, cute underwear was purchased. Well underwear was one part excitement, two parts necessity, and one part lazy. I need to laundry.

He is just that into me.

I swear I'm the marrying kind.

And none for Gretchen Wieners, bye!

hang the DJ, hang the DJ, hang the DJ

I am in a panic. Not even on the streets of London.

Right now I need to clear my head and contact a health care professional. I'm going to talk to my friend who is a nurse this afternoon, and I really need to shake this only slightly logical paranoia. This post is about clearing my head.

My body is doing weird things....well, let me rephrase. I can't tell if my body really is doing weird things or if its only acting weird because I'm acting weird because I only think its doing weird things. The words make sense in that order, I promise.

In the last couple of months, I have become hyper aware of my body almost to the point of (okay, definitely to the point of) paranoia.Things like "I'm getting fatter, is that winter hibernation weight or is that pregnancy weight?", "my period was a day late, oh god what does that mean?", "my period tapered off really abruptly, what the French toast does that indicate?" are all followed by or punctuated with "ohmigodohmigodohmigod". Now as I type, these thoughts look silly in visual words. I mean, I have never been dumb about a sexual encounter. But you know, things happen. Condoms break, rip, slip, tear. I am 95-7% sure that a mishap didn't occur, but you know, what if? Moral of the story, I really should get on the pill and eliminate this shit for good.

There, I said it. Moving on.

I would like to peace the fuck out of Kalamazoo, Michigan. My lease is up at the end of April and I would like to move back to Chicago (I love the city tonight, I love the city always). There are jobs, its just a matter of moving costs. I have found decently priced apartments in okay neighborhoods, and I could always room with someone from craigslist or something if it came to it. Well, "decently priced" can run anywhere from 5-600 for a studio if I am lucky. Good thing I am not claustrophobic. Some are cheaper, but require people skills which, now that I think about it, would not be so bad. I am always looking to expand my social network, especially in cities where I have a very small circle of friends who live there. I feel like there's a catch-22: living spaces require money, aka a job. Jobs require a place to live. And the cycle begins anew. I can't find my pants, film at 11. Stay tuned.

I have chosen to accept a mission. Yes, that mission.

It's pretty funny that for the second time ever, I have a valentine on valentines day. Also funny: I've either spent valentine's day with Matt or nobody at all. Ideally, this v-day would be spent looking at sharks at Shedd Aquarium.

I'm happy and I'm writing. we'll see where this goes.

okay, I'm done brain vomiting.

life may sometimes be sad, but its always beautiful

Yeah, everything's back to normal now. I have my job back. That was a hellish and unnecessarily dumb five days.

More sap from my super sweet boyfriend:

12:29 AM: i miss seeing the top of your head on my chest
12:31 AM: i miss your complete shock at all the noises my intestines can make


1:14 AM you know what i really miss?
1:15 AM i miss the fact that even when i chat with you and use all my stories up on here, if i see you the next day im so excited to talk to you, even when its totally about nothing

... but he doesn't believe in marriage in the conventional sense, he says.

New insanely impossible mission.

But do I choose to accept it?

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, you're cool, and fuck you, I'm out!

I've been canned. Sacked. Pink slipped.

FUCK MY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIFE.

Tonight and this weekend are not going to be pretty. I suspect there will be crying and drunkeness and hardcore feeding involved with the money that was supposed to be for bills.

I'm probably applying for unemployment and letting the government take care of me for awhile.

Kinda funny how I didn't get fucked by the god-awful economy until the VERY end of Bush's term.

And by funny I mean shitty as fuck and I want to harm somebody.

But my hyperactive sense of entitlement as a twentysomething American female tells me that means I don't have to play nice for the time being. People that take certain kinds of energy to deal with are coming to visit this weekend. I make no promises that I am playing nice. If anybody even looks at me funny, I swear I'm going to unleash a world of fury they didn't even know I had. Jackie, crazy twat Clara, Richard, the homeless bums that panhandle, anybody. I'm not planning to be mean, but I'm just saying, if things are pissing me off, you'll know. Full blown Diva mode has been engaged.

So much for SXSW 2009 magical road trips. So much for spring break.

I started kissing the nicotine smokestack yesterday.

But on the upside, Theresa and I are job hunting tomorrow.

I would love it if the snow stopped, thanks.

There's always the titty bar.

I think it's 80s night. Somewhere else, not at the titty bar. That would be kinda epic though.

Two hours left at this job and I don't care who I offend.

ello ello ello vee eee

Courtesy of Matt, and the reason I am tired this morning:

1:43 AM: when i take time to think about it, i'm liking the idea of growing old with you. although im hesitant to say so, cause it sounds like a total creeper line

when you are broke, the money-problems ratio is inversely proportionate, regardless of what Puff Daddy, Mase, and Notorious BIG would have you think

Good grace, that was a long ass post title.

It's the truth. I've been cut seven hours at work, and even though that doesn't sound like a lot, its my sole source of income for the time being. Fuck part-time jobs.

So I've been looking into leaving. My lease is up in April, and armed with craigslist and not much else (not even a resume, shitty as that is), I've been looking for a job and a place to live. Going home sounds like a stupid option and I'd rather live in a cheeseburger with no money for groceries. But it's still an option, a viable one at that.

I am fully aware of how ridiculous that sounded.

Also fuck not living in a college town. I have gotten spoiled with my less than $500 rents and my downstairs coffeeshops. As I search for places to live that fit my budget, I start thinking I'll apply for loans and just live until I die. Or run out of money. Whichever comes first.

I keep using google maps to ascertain how far apartments are from Matt. My friends think its cute. I think it's creepy.

I found two foxy little places in the $500 range.

Suddenly I am a little more optimistic.

But still chunky. Also trying very hard not to make out with the nicotine smokestack.

Just discovered I am not broke as I thought. Still on a tight budget, but not as tight as previously thought. Thanks, God.

I consider myself a Christian, but I still have sympathy for the devil.

I should go to the movies. I still have not seen The Spirit, and that depresses me greatly.

Also depressing:

Graduate Student Academic Year Cost of Attendance 2008-2009

Tuition and Fees (full-time)

$15,992
Books and Supplies

$1,400
Room and Board

$12,000
Personal Expenses

$3,600
Transportation

$1,800

Total


$34,792

Yeah.

Let the distance bring us together. (I'm alright in bed, but I'm better with a pen)

There need to be more songs about the new year.

Can you keep a secret? I'm in love.

Can you keep another? I need medication when I date someone. I become needy and insecure and paranoid.

For example: this past week, Matt has seemed really distant. In the back of my mind, I know he's probably got to haul ass at work (a direct result of spending five days of the previous week with me) and he has a life and shit outside of me, but in my defense, I am spoiled. Just listen. Before I went to go see him in Chicago (this last time right before new year's), we would talk all the time. Text, facebook, aim, whatever. Now all of a sudden I get a text or two a day. In my head I know its probably because he's tired, but in the back somewhere I am scared that he's not saying a lot because he's tired of me. I'm always scared that people are tired of me. I've also gained five pounds since we started dating, and nobody wants to date a fatty. Lucky for me, I'm pretty. But I mean, if he were to break up with me, I would feel dumb, like real real real dumb because I let this happen. I let him back in. I let myself fall in love. The terror of that pain is enough.

I feel horrible for entertaining thses thoughts, but they just come at me and I can't stop them.

Its kind of like deja vu, but instead of his feelings for Heather, I'm scared of my own imperfection. Isn't that the very definition of insecurity? How do i fix that? I know I'll never be perfect.

But that being said, that's my primary complaint: we don't talk enough. For the first time ever, I feel like I'm sexy and not like people are talking to me just because they want to sleep with me or are scared of me.

I want to start smoking again, just so i'll be closer to perfect.

Impossible you say? Nothing is impossible when you work for the circus.

So, it would seem that Matt and I are together. For real.

I am equal parts thrilled, terrified, apprehensive, and disgusted. I feel like such a hypocrite because most of my life I have been shitting on love, and the minute the potential for love comes to me, what do I do? I turn into an eternally sappy ball of mush. Its gross. There's sap, and on the whole mushy stuff that makes me want to barf.

I have never welcomed nausea this readily in all my life.

So far, we're perfect.

I think we've both grown up since the last time we dated. I mean, I always (always = since 2005) told myself that I would never date someone twice, or date a drummer, or someone who was born with a 7 letter name that could be shortened to a four letter nickname (ie Anthony to Tony, Gregory to Greg, Michael to Mike, etc). Those rules are based on patterns in my life, and now I am kind of spitting in their face. I'm not sure what this compulsion for rules and order is, but its hard to say if I will keep them all. But I digress. I'm happy, and that's a start.

We build momentum with the fact that he seems more willing to invest himself too. When we last dated, I was just a kid, barely 20, which would put him at 21. Very self-centered ages. We both seem to have grown out of a lot of the dumb shit. He's talked about righting some of the fuckups he's made, not because I ever asked him to, but because it would bring us closer together.

When I was in Chicago, he said to me once, "you seem more like yourself." I keep trying to decipher that and coming up with nothing of substance. I blame philosophy class. I feel like it's profound, but can't tell why.

I love pop music again.

Now Playing: "Creepin Up On You" - Darren Hayes

the chicago trip, 67-100

part six: it's all terribly French.

68. return to the apartment.
69. listen to music in Matt's room.
70. watch weird music videos on youtube.
71. start making out.

part seven:I can sleep when I'm dead.

72. realize its 1:30
73. notice that nobody that was supposed to call called.
74. stopped caring.
75. carried on.
76. passed out for approx. 2 hours.
77. resumed activity # 71.
78. realized the sun was coming up.
79. resumed activity #71 again.
80. realized it was 10 am
81. realized I was starving.

part eight: I am sick of committing to the concept, I am fast forwarding.

82. ate breakfast.
83. napped.
84. for obvious reasons, it took an hour to get directions and put my shoes on.
85. wished I hadn't made prior arrangements to pick up Jill so I could leave on Monday instead.
86. left for downtown.

part nine: glory fades

89. made a NASCAR loop around downtown for 20 minutes.
90. swore at Chicago drivers.
91. swore at street signs that were more deocrative than functional.
92. finally made it to where I was supposed to be.

part ten: Indiana, why bother?

93. decided Jill's GPS was a better idea than my other directions.
94. GPS smoked crack.
95. took an extra 15 minutes to get on the damn expressway.
96. got on the damn expressway.
97. watched as it started to snow.
98. played the radio game*
99. stopped driving.
100. smiled.

Anyone else find it pretty fucking silly that Beyonce titled her new album I Am...Sasha Fierce?

I love the city always.

Driving is for poor people and I am not that big of a fan. At least in my homeland of Chicago.

I can't wait to be home. That's where my heart is.

So, what happened:

Part one: in transit.

1. packed a lunch
2. started driving.
3. realized somewhere around New Buffalo I forgot my glasses.
4. Decided it was unnecessary on a scale of 1-10.
5. didn't die despite efforts from wind and looming thoughts of ominous deer.
6. sarcastically thanked mom for putting the thoughts of the deer in my head.
7. listened to genius lite rock radio coming out of South Bend
8. asked if I was there yet
9. realized I hadn't made it to Indiana.
10. made it to Indiana.
11. decided Valparaiso is just fun to say.
12. thought about stalking Kevin, my old english teacher.
13. thought better of it.
14. asked if I was there yet.
15. paid tolls.
16. tried not to think about what would happen if the road were to collapse over a given body of water.
17. thought about what would happen if the road were to collapse over a given body of water.
18. made it to Illinois.
19. paid tolls.
20. Listened to genius radio out of Chicago.
21. tried not to think about what would happen if the bridge were to collapse over a given body of water.
22. thought about what would happen if the bridge were to collapse over a given body of water.
23. entered Chicago city limits

Part two: in the city, I think

24. had mild panic attack anticipating the twattiness of Chicago drivers.
25. realized my fears were only kind of founded.
26. got into a traffic jam.
27. jammed to "Copacabana" by Barry Manilow
28. missed my exit due to Illinois no knowing how to label exits.
29. sat at the world's longest light.
30. cursed Chicago's urban developers.
31. jammed to "Cath" by Death Cab For Cutie
32. tried to stop at a Starbucks.
33. found zero parking anywhere nearby.
34. found a Starbucks at the Dominick's at the other end of the parking lot.
35. got coffee.
36. tried to read.
37. got bored.
38. found the liquor aisle.
39. found 1.75 liters of Skyy vodka for $20.00
40. Purchased vodka and chips.
41. got back in the car.
42. got lost (the fun kind)
43. got lost (the less fun kind)
44. got un-lost
45. tried to visit Devon.
46. refused to pay for parking.
47. found zero parking.
48. had the urge to pee.
49. regretted driving.
50. paid thirty-five cents for a pack of juicy fruit and pissing privileges at a very well lit BP.
51. got frustrated.
52. smoked in an IHOP parking lot.
53. got a call from Matt.

Part three: I finally stop driving.

54. locate Matt.
55. locate Matt's apartment.
56. collapse with joy that I have finally stopped driving after five hours.
57. start drinking.

part four: our weekend starts halfway into Saturday night.

58. continue to drink while Matt showers.
59. realized I was drunk off of one drink.
60. hung out with Matt's roommate and tried not to be awkward.
61. was only moderately successful.
62. decide on dinner plans
63. leave for dinner.

part five: of mice and Kanye

64. buy Yellow Tail pinot noir for dinner
65. get amazing thai
66. make loose plans to meet up with other friends later.
67. pay bill.

It makes me think I'm going for some sort of record.

Okay. More things straightened out. More things to fret over.

Leaving Saturday. Check. Staying with Matt (whatever that means). Check.

However, I now have the following to worry about: Matt doesn't get off work until 8. p.m. I wanted to bypass weekend traffic by going early. If I go early, I am met with the task of anal rape parking rates, and the daunting task of amusing myself. I made plans to hang out with Devon, but I don't know what time that's going to happen.

I have not called Kenny yet. I'm not sure I want to, considering the shenanigans that happened the last time he was in town. But, he did do me the courtesy of calling when he was here. He could potentially fix my boredom problem. Dammit. The only problem with getting ahold of him is that it is a fucking production. Like if you want to hang out with him, you should call two hours earlier than logic dictates. Fucking ridiculous, those English mafia dudes are.

I've got "Dashboard" by Modest Mouse stuck in my head. Considering the situation I have currently put myself in, I am not sure if that's the best thing. Also the album its on is called We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank. Oh it would have been, could have been, worse than you will ever know...

Whatever that means.

You say I'm crazy. I got your crazy. Womanizer. Fucking Britney's army of Swede pop geniuses.

I kind of want to get drunk tonight.

I love the city tonight.

I love the city tonight

yeah I'm updating back to back. Don't get used to it, I've just spent a retarded amount of time in my head, and if I don't get it out, my head may just very well explode.

So I am planning to drive to Chicago (all things go, all things go), and I have no place to stay. On a scale of 1-10, I am not that worried about finding one. I could stay with Kenny, Devon, or Matt. The only place this becomes problematic is where I was attracted to all three of them at one point in time or another. Or now. Which is a point in time. I am also looking at departure times. If I leave right after work on friday afternoon, I am still in Chicago in the thick of rush hour which does not bode well for my mental state of being. If I leave anytime after 5, it will be dark as balls and possibly in the thick of party transit. Weekend traffic is always a biiiiitch. If I leave early saturday morning, I bypass the retarded traffic factor, but I only have 24 hours to get everybody plus my agenda in.

Speaking of agendas, I don't really know what mine is. In regards to the trip, in regards to the boys, in regards to... life. I don't know what I want from Matt, because part of me is undoubetly attracted to him. But let's not be so hasty to forget that he kind of devastated me a little when he broke up with me. I don't know what I want from Devon, because he is undoubetedly cool and kinda crazy, but in the totally cool way. Sometimes I want him. I think he's moving to Japan. Figures.

So I'll go hunting for witches.

Shit, son.

Is the sun out yet?

I will be collecting advice on the leaving/sleeping situation.

Now playing: "Loretta Young Silks" - Sneaker Pimps

There is not nearly enough new wave in my life

So is it really lame that I never realized that "Your Woman" by White Town was about a guy in love with a lesbian?

Shut up, I realize the song is like eleven years old, but still....

Also obsessing about the Snow Patrol single "Take Back the City". This is mostly due to the chorus being catchy and simple as fuck, but also due to the fact that VH1 loves to play the video when I wake up in the morning.

Totally buggin about the roadtrip that I may or may not take. At this point, driving's cheaper than the train, but the thing about driving is I get anxious and paranoid and I need a xanax just to make it to the Walgreens down the street, let alone 150ish miles in a direction I have never driven in before. We'll see. The city met me with a slightly icy reception the last time I went home, but this time already looks to be better than the last. I will watch the weather, and align my planets. Godspeed, you black universe!

Fucking A. Let's watch Hair.

Let the sun shine in.

I miss the old NIN.

Needless to say, today I have had the golden touch in locating old mixes with jams I love. God is an American.

The 80s miss me. 85% of my recreational music happens to be songs sung by for and about robots. Not in the obnoxious Katy Perry way, but in the Depeche Mode/New Order/David Bowie kind of way.

Done with work.

Seacrest out!

Now Playing: "Bizzare Love Triangle" - New Order

Things I am not saying out loud. (you're a slave to yourself and you don't even know)

watch out kids, this could get ugly. The less I see the sun, the more I retreat into myself.

1. I could like Matt again, even though he devastated me the first time we broke up. I generally don't like to repeat dating mistakes, but the more I talk to him, the more I miss him, dammit.
2. I feel like everyone is constantly looking down on me.
3. (Personal pronoun abuse aside,) I feel like with the variety of relationship opportunities that I have had, the only constant is me, which leads to the conclusion that the problem isn't with "them" it's with me.
3a. but what's the problem? Is my personality that terrible? Am I that overweight? Is my fashion sense that askew? Am I that shitty of a person? Am I that smart? Am I that dumb?
4. I was pissy at dinner last night and nobody noticed. We had constructed a plan earlier for me to get fake pissy at dinner, but as the night wore on, I became real pissy. So that one really is my fault, because out of the four other people I was eating with, two were in on it, and one caught on right away. But that doesn't count because a) she was eventually let in on the plan, and b) she's a girl.
4a. I am the type of person to say everything's fine, especially when it's not, and then get depressed when everybody assumes that everything's fine. Ridiculous, I know.
5. I am so jealous of Jill. Everybody loves her and falls all over themselves to be with her and be in her good graces. Everybody likes her so much better and I can't stand it. Well, let me clarify: I can stand it, it just depresses the hell out of me. And I think that is where some of what #2 comes from. Like people only put up with me because I am Jill's roommate.

I told you this was ugly.

This trail mix is disgusting, and now is a good a time as any to do my homework.

Religious views: Devout Playlistism

I thought I was quitting boys. I fell off the wagon twice this summer, and once after school started.

because we count instances, not boys.

I think I am going to quit them again. The entirety of the summer involved my pursuit of a boy named Keith. He's 23, from a small town towards the middle of the state, graduated and now a flight instructor. He gets paid to fly planes. Pretty conservative, and pretty into his faith (Catholic). Of course I had to go and fall for him. Because opposites attract, right? We will call this Mayish, maybe early June. Fast forward to um, September. I have made a bad decision with two boys out in the sticks of Michigan (not as scandalous as it sounds), fallen prey to the syndrome that only affects single girls at weddings, and made out with my neighbor from across the hall (which is a lot of drama all by itself). Word got to Keith that I liked him. Nothing happened. Word got to me that Keith liked me. More nothing, even though the record is till fuzzy as to if he knows that I know.

I don't make the first move.

Fast forward to October. Nothing's changed. Except me. I got bored. To be honest, I think he did too. The thing I will always hate about nice guys (forever and ever amen) is I can't tell when they're flirting and when they are just being themselves. I think he's moved on to my roommate. I can't tell because 1. this kid is habitually nice. All the time. and 2. Every time I project and think that a guy likes her, it turns out to be untrue. Sometimes.

Maybe it is just me.

It's always just me.

I think that's enough navel gazing for one morning.

now playing: " Early Morning" - Britney Spears

a town called malice

malice, malice baby

too cold too cold.

Reading The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz and its pretty fucking brilliant so far. I want to get a bottle of wine (or whatever relaxing beverage I can get ahold of) and just finish the book out.

I'm actually reading a lot of really good books this summer.

I've been recreationally reading On Beauty by Zadie Smith.

I love it.

Love it all.

I should write more this summer. More than my requiste one poem a month.

Apparently there is going to be a movie version of Oscar Wao. Well at least there is talk of it.

...and you coming back to me is against the odds, and that's a chance I'll have to take.

What is anybody afraid of.

Fearless.

The more I think about it I want a huge honkin' sidepiece.

I'm obsessed.