In Which I Return To Where My Words Only Define Me.

This ain't a scene, its an arms race.

I love mornings where I can see the sun. I love "Stillness Is The Move" (the Solange version), mostly because it is a cover of a Dirty Projectors song. I love cover crossovers like that. I love The Mike Simonetti remix of "Million Dollar Bill" by Whitney Houston.

Dear Kanye, your talent negates your egotistical twattery.

I still hear whispers of crazy in my head. I know I have no reason to, and the position my brain is in just screams of codependent girlfriend. But its still there. I just don't want to look like a chump, you know? Yeah, I said chump. I just don't trust this girl. I really don't. And there's nothing I can do. I don't want to tell my twenty-five year old long distance boyfriend who he can and can't hang out with. And even if I did, 1. that's really shitty, it would just lead to resentment and possible lashing/acting out on both our parts and 2. there would be no way to "enforce" said restriction. But She's moving to LA in August, so that about four more months in my nuthouse. Cashew?

He says he's immune to jealousy (not his exact words, but its definitely implied).I take him at his word, which just makes me feel worse.

I have no idea what to do without looking certifiably criminally insane. I'm not sure why it matters how I look. Maybe its the fact that I watch entirely too much TV.

I also think this is the root to my overall dissatisfaction with my appearance. I can never look good enough and I keep comparing myself to everyone else around me (and even those not around me). I am not thin enough, pretty enough, smart enough, funny enough, tall enough... the list goes on. I've been out several times in the last seven days, and each time I get angrier and angrier that I can't look good. So I feel the need to be increasingly more obnoxious and crazy to compensate. Which makes me think that everyone hates me anyway.

This isn't store brand crazy. This is designer crazy.

people don't dance no more.

Don't wanna be your monkey wrench.

I'll pull an OK Go and get over it. Eventually.

I'll take my pills and say its for the best.

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.