In Which I Live And Hide And Live And Sing

...or something to that effect.

Work update: Had a bit of a mandatory vacation because my slunt (yes, its a portmanteau meaning exactly what you think it does) of an ex-vice principal wanted to fire me. It was scary, but also nice to be off for two weeks. I did not return to that school. Still in DPS, I got transferred to a school like the ones in the southwest: bilingual. My Spanish is improving. I like the school. The kids are a bit much at times, but my coworkers are nice. I actually have a boss here, and I spend the bulk of my time as her assistant. The rest of the time I spend looking busy and meditating on what kind of accent my boss has (Jamacian/islands or African, I think). I feel more competent here. However, these hours are fucking killing me: 8:30/45 - 5:45/6. Unless its Friday, then I get to leave at 5:15ish(!). But summer's almost here, which means a little downtime, then summer school (yes, as part of my contract, they make us do summer school. Adios, summer plans). This may or may not mean my pink hair is on hold.

I am hoping my hours will be up to par by the time my contract ends, because I'm going to need the fuck out of my education stipend. I found a way to get to grad school for not very much (thank you, random program offered by Northwestern University!). Now all that remains is a job to support my rock n roll lifestyle and a place to live (with or without boyfriend). Finding a place to live is easy, jobs are hard.

Other exciting news? Um....I got a new tattoo! Its VII on my left wrist. Its fresh, from last week, and it hurt like a bitch. But I love my artist and I can't wait to get some more work done...maybe this summer. Trying not to pick at the scabs is hard work.

This was the first Valentine's day I was with someone and didn't get to be with them. I was kind of cranky and bitchy because of it. The last time I saw Matt was at the end of January, and I won't get to see him again until a week from tommorrow. Gotta love winter break. Since the holidays, my visits have been every two weeks. I used to do every three like it was nothing, but I'm a spoiled little shit and I don't like waiting anymore. I would have gone this weekend, but 1. my period's sallegedly supposed to be stopping by until monday, and 2. I have a meeting about a freelance project for a friend on saturday. Which leaves the weekend after. Perfect timing, I have break and I'll be coming from Kalamazoo, so I only have one really long trip ahead of me: the trip back to Detroit from Chicago.

Okay, back to work and I have to pee like my name is Flicka.

Today's self loathing level: yellow.

In Which I Will Pobably Blow A Fucking Gasket

I'm doing some mad downhill sliding. The program scheduled today got canceled with so little notice. My assistant principal's a biiiiiiiiiitch and had to remind me of that this morning, I have to have a lot of information entered into the service tracking system that still has me listed at the wrong fucking school, thus causing everything I enter to disappear. I need to have everything entered in by tomorrow, no wiggle room. I also have to get a posterboard and get those signed by classes by Thursday too, I'm pretty sure. I'm still fat, my friends are still crazy, I'm getting my period, and I'm supposed to find a sexy cocktail dress by next Friday. I can't decide if I want to go smoke until i feel better, or go lock myself in my car or the bathroom and cry. I really want to cry. But I have a personal rule against crying in public unless I'm on a stage. Needless to say, I will NOT be attending the staff meeting this afternoon. I'll be doing well if I make it to 12 or 1 when I'll go over to the office and try to see if I can get a better grip on things over there. Where's ctrl+alt+del?

I did end up going to Chicago, everything worked out after much crying and tantrum throwing. There is something really wrong with the notion of a 25 year old throwing a tantrum to get her way. I went and was adored, which is a total turn on. I was blonde and glittery and fabulous. I still have the glitter under my fingernails to prove it. I didn't get to stay long, but everyone was really nice to me, which was sorely needed. I won't be getting that for another 9 days. Even the cabbie I had was the king of cool cabbies. Young Muslim dude. We talked religion and academics the whole cab ride in. I tipped him well.

Also, if I can help it, I'm never riding Greyhound again. The drivers are nice, but their booking policies are shit, as well as their major city employees (I'm looking at you, Chicago and Detroit). I booked the ticket back to Michigan online approximately 12 hours before departure. I clicked "pick up at will call" because THAT WAS THE ONLY OPTION. Fast forward 12 hours when I try to get my ticket. First they tried to tell me that that I had no ticket, then they insisted that I had purchased the ticket, but printed it at home and thus could not be printed again. So I bought another one so I could get home because it was 10 minutes before my bus was supposed to leave. I called customer service yesterday, and they're supposed to refund my internet fare in the next 7-14 days according to the nice, thickly accented man at customer service. I'm still considering putting in a complaint about the woman who told me what I did when I wasn't there. Not to mention the frequent overbooking to the point of SRO or take the next bus. Fuck. Greyhound. And on top of that, it takes about 20 extra hours to get anywhere. Seriously. From Detroit to Chicago can take anywhere from 8-10 hours. It's a 4-5 hour drive, with a comparable train ride. Megabus is pretty similar to the train, time-wise. And they're never over sold. Fuuuuuuck that.

I have hands.

I should write.

In Which These Are Your Shoes.

These are my shoes. We got issues.

I want to get Chicago this weekend but I don't know if it will come together in time. The organization that is in charge of paying me doesn't believe in direct deposit; they believe in making me wait for my paycheck (in addition to making me work for it). There's a bus at 4 which would get me there at 8, which would be perfect, but generally speaking, our checks aren't available to pick up until 4. There's a train at 6, but fuck that, it won't get me there until 11. I have to leave on Sunday so I can work on Monday. Yes, as part of my contract I have to do some community service bs on MLK. So even on my day off, I'm on. I emailed one of my supers asking if I had a snowball's chance in hell of bypassing theses hindrances. There's a glimmer of hope re: the paycheck, not so much for the MLK service day.

And on top of that, I'm not even sure if Matt wants to see me this weekend. This will be the two week mark, and I won't be able to see him for another two weeks if I don't go this week. So that's four lonely, sexless weeks. Priorities, right?

I can't help but think that this has something to do with the farewell party of that one friend of his that makes me all kinds of insecure. (I was working on that, but then the holidays happened and are still kind of happening and I feel really fat.) It takes place this weekend, and its obvious I will take any excuse for 1. a weekend away and 2. a party (drink enough, and everybody forgets how fat you are until the pictures are posted the next day and you are all like daaaaaaaaaaamn I'm never eating again! Not that I'm projecting.). I can honestly say that I do not wish any ill upon her, and I do kind of wish I'd have handled a few things differently. Who knows though, maybe I'm just reading too much into stuff. I have an outfit planned, just in case. That reminds me, I need new fishnets. We'll see how Thursday goes (yay meetings!) and see what I want after that.

Whatever I wanna do, gosh!

Also, this wedding stuff is bs. We might be back to black like Amy Winehouse, which is all well and good, but damn, pick a color at least and stick with it.

Ain't that some shit.

In Which Everybody Knows I'm A Motherfucking Monster

I think I'm screwed. I have no idea what I'm doing at this job, but I can't fuck it up, because if I don't, this could open so many doors for my resume. I think I'm well-liked enough to collect a few letters of recommendation. These things are more necessary than the actual diploma, and twice as valuable. That, and I don't want to do this again. I like my job and everything, just not enough to extend my contract beyond August/September.

Also, fuck Western. I have to pay for an unofficial transcript? I may as well get the official one if I'm going to pay, shit. Fuuuuck that. I'll have them shipped out and take my chances. #cheap

I apologize, hashtags find their way into every corner of my life.

Weddings bring out the crazy in everyone. I'm happier now with the most recent developments. Let's whip out the handy pros and cons list.

Recent development pro: As long as its the same color as the other bridesmaids, I can pick my own style of dress.

Recent development con: The color is navy blue, the one color that doesn't work with my skin tone.

Recent development pro: The dress will be in my price range

Recent development con: my price point fabrics give my dress a very good possibility of being polyester, taffeta, chiffon, or satin. All nightmares of functionality.

Recent development pro: since I am picking my dress, I can pick something that looks good on me now and I don't have to lose my mind crash dieting for the next eight months just to conform to some ugly dress.

Recent development con: I'm probably going to start crash dieting 1-2 months before the wedding.

But we'll see how long any of this lasts.

I still haven't told Matt that I'm going to be in this wedding. Or that he's going.

I kind of want to move back to Kalamazoo. Mostly because I was never more than three hours from anything.

Kanye West is helping stave off the winter blahs. His new album is saving my commute right now.

I think my adjective for 2011 will be sexy. I want to be sexy. Not trashy sexy, but arty, classy, old-school sexy.

With orange hair.

We'll discuss the unbelievable pressure of being 25 and long term, long distance relationships another time.

We're going to live a hell of a life.

In Which I Sneeze and Procrastinate and Cook Up Some Diva Behavior

It seems at the ripe age of 25, I still am stuck in a whirling vortex of collegiate uncertainty.

I spent the first official day of Christmas break fighting with mmy mom. Just like in college. It didn't help that I was supposed to go (bridal) dress shopping with Katy and Heather, but I was too busy fighting to leave. They found "the" dress and the bridesmaids dress. Just the two of them. The dress alone is $265. American dollars. Not yen, pesos, or Canadian dollars. I mean, it could be worse, the dress could be $265 Euro. I was told $150 max. I was being told this on the phone, after a day of yelling and crying. After I saw the dress (gotta love the internet) I pretty much had to hang up. Abruptly.

To justify my shit fit, I will show you the dress.

If you are bigger than a size 10 (like I am), this is not going to be a good look. It's like a chiffon mummy with a sweetheart neckline. And while we're at it, let's shove some 38DDs in that strapless sweetheart. I am going to look like a pregnant sausage. I am not paying $265 for that privelege. If I am paying that much for a dress, I better be the biggest fox in the room. I am easily the biggest girl in the bridal party, and I refuse to look hideous. It was kind of adding insult to injury when Katy called to check on me this morning and basically let it slip that she tried the dress on and it looked really hot on her. She was lucky I was eating, otherwise I might have really diva'd out. Just because the dress looks hot on you, that's the dress you pick? Uuuuugh, I could choke skinny bitches.

Not to mention that high-end retailers like that usually don't have anything bigger than a 12 or 14 available on the floor (a bridal 12/14 is like a true 10/12, maybe even a 8/10). Apparently they're going to look at David's Bridal too (due in part ro my price point freakout), just because their price point is far more reasonable (durrr). I'd deal with the polyester (uuugh) if it meant that I wasn't looking like a grape draped in chiffon.

Unfortunately, everyone that I've shown the dress to seems to think it will be cute.

There's probably going to be a fitting next week, and if it doesn't end with me crying, it will be an act of God. Maybe I will just drink until I don't care what I look like. Maybe I just won't eat until then. As a temporary pacifier, I told myself that if that's the dress they go with, I am putting them in the ugly dresses when I get married. But to be honest, I'm not sure what would look bad on either of them.

Future fashion warfare!

In Which I Take A Personal Snow Day And Eat Applesauce.

I have been rolling and rambling and letting the birds seek shelter on my window ledge.

Chicago was pretty and nice (nice modifying the fact that I got to see my boyfriend and not the weather). It was warm Saturday, which made the grad thing more bearable, but the rain and shitty folding chairs made me into an old lady. By the end of the very enightening two hours, my back was giving me all kinds of middle finger messages. So we left and decided to go to the movies. Given my angry-ass back, I readily welcomed this change of pace. Turns out, if your back is a hateful bitch, two and a half hours in basically a squishy folding chair, this is not the answer. But all the crying I did at the end of the movie helped mask the pain (daaaaamn, Harry Potter, your Deathly Hallows are depressing!). Sunday, I drank wine and napped until it was time for me to go. Then I tacked two hours of travel time onto an already five hour trip. My ETA to come home was 11:20. My actual arrival came at 1:15, 1:30 or so. Got home at two, tried to sleep, didn't sleep until 3:30 and woke up at 6:30 to try and get myself together for work.

My prayers for a snow day went unanswered, so I tried to trek my way across the universe, er, city. An hour's worth of travel got me a mile, maybe two from home. Literally, by the time I would have made it to work, it would have been time for me to get back in the car and come home. Everyone seems to live a lot closer to the school than I do, so I let today be their problem. I don't feel very guilty about it. Death is not on my list o things to do today.

So...ummm...my friend Heather, who I may or may not have discussed with you (I have, but in case you need a refresher, Heather is one of my good friends from high school. My current boyfriend is her ex), oficially got engaged this weekend. Platinum band, black diamond stone. To say that I'm jealous would be an understatement. However, I am not the hateful kind of jealous, but rather the "waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah when's it going to be myyyyyyyyyyyyy tuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrn?" jealous. I am legitimately happy for her. Her finace is a great guy, and I want those two crazy kids to make it.

This is all an exercise in learning patience. It was five years for Heather and Chris, its been two years for me, I can cool my jets.

Let the record also show that I am becoming more aware of what kind of theatrics go into planning, performing in, and executing a wedding. Throwing in my current boyfriend/her ex that she's barely on civil terms with only spices things up.

Especially if you consider that I am going to be a bridesmaid.

I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this. To be honest, I haven't told Matt yet. How do you bring that up? "Oh hey, btw your ex and my friend is getting married and I'm going to be a briedsmaid and you may or may not be invited."

Okay, it seems so much simpler when I just type it out in front of me, but I'm not out to hurt anyone or cause drama. I just want to support my friend and drink free booze and dance with the man I love. What's so bad about that? What's so funny about peace, love, and understanding?

And holy fuck being friends with the bride is expensive: bridesmaid dress, shoes, hair/makeup, engagement present, wedding present, bachelorette party...and those are the the ones I know for sure.

Let the wedding fever begin! Pink sapphire away!

In Which I Decide What You Can Do With Your Productivity

Put it where the sun don't shine...that's what you can do with your productivity.

My presence here wasn't completely for face, I actually did get a few things done.

I laughed at myself just now for having awful thoughts. Awful sexy thoughts. Who knew that two weeks away from one's boyfriend would turn me into this sexually starved she-wolf?

Good thing I'm stocking up on lovins this weekend. Now that's what I call a business pleasure trip.

Business Pleasure Trip: (n.) A trip one takes to address both professional and personal needs.

I think I'm making a friend. IRL too!

And for some bizarre reason I cannot stop singing "Kiss The Girl" from the Little Mermaid.

Too much running. All I've heard today is clomp clomp clomp of little feet up and down the hall.

I wish that I had gotten the tutoring job instead. It seems more my speed. Hanging out with the kids, reading shit, sharing my favorite books...but I had to go for the money.Mo money, mo candy. That's how it works.

I was going to log my hours right now, but I'd rather sit here and shoot the shit with you. there's no reason I can't do both, I guess....but I'm lazy right now.

I let it slip at work today that I'm not the sweet girl I appear to be. It just sort of came out that I was into what some might deem "kinky shit". But I don't think S&M is all that bad. After all, beauty is pain, princess. It wasn't workplace appropriate, but I got turned on anyway.

She-wolf, party of one? Come this way, your table is ready.

HAH! I made a pun!

its the coffee talking I swear.

its almost time to get all Loverboy in this bitch.

Rock this bitch!

In Which I Should Not Leave My Office

I've been getting my learn on. Learning about social and societal limitations, about the mental limitations of everyone on this fucking planet, about my abilities and limitations as a person, and about the long o sound.

Gotta love sharing an office.

I also love ego boosts in the form of friend requests. I've had more friend requests this week than I have had in the last two months. One of them is a little weird. I have heard of this person, I have six friends in common with them, but I have never actually met/hung out with them. One of my friends had a crush on this person a long time ago, and it more or less ended poorly. The former crush haver is not among our mutual friends. As a result, I have left them in friend request purgatory.

In other news, I have found the magic combination to make me lose Kill, Bang, Marry. I want to play that game. It's like MASH for grownups. Person A names three people and Person B has to decide who gets killed, who they would bang, and who they would marry. If Person A picks all repulsive people, Person B still has to make a decision with those three categories. Once, I presented a kill kill kill option. The people I was playing with weren't having it. It's best with 2-3 players.

I don't feel like doing shit today. Yesterday was busy, and Friday, I'm off to Chicago (4 day week this week).

One of my little pleasures in life: making stupid and obnoxious hash tags. Example: #DAMNyousasexybitch

I think that's my favorite.

Like you.

In Which I Am A Paparazzo of Children

I am here (at work) because my conscience won't let me leave until 3:00. I have accomplished plenty today, but I still feel compelled to sit here and do bupkis.

Life updates:

1. I have been with the same person for two years. It doesn't seem like its been that long. To celebrate, I went to Chicago. We ate, drank, and were merry. Friday, I came into town very late. We ate sub-par grocery store sushi and drank vodka cocktails and watched Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World (part of my anniversary present to Matt). I wasn't even remotely tired until about 5 am (all times local). Saturday was spent indoors, watching more movies and eating chicken nuggets (the dinosaur kind). That evening, I mandated that I get to wear a foxy dress and pearls in public, so we ended up at The Green Mill, a teeny jazz club. Great bands. Matt insisted on champagne. I politely protested. He politely ignored my protests. We got good and tipsy and then went home, where we ate more chicken nuggets. I promptly passed out. Sunday, Scotty was in town so we met up for lunch. That was a fiasco. I don't feel like telling the whole story, but suffice it to say that apparently there are two Borders near a Macy's in downtown Chicago. Lunch was nice, if not a little awkward (I just wanted to play never have I ever). And then I had to go. That part is always a little bittersweet, but I am okay with that, mostly because I didn't cry this time. I love him.
2. I am trying to become more aggressive at work. It's only kind of working. However, in other work-related news, apparently kids love me. The Kindergarteners and SpEds especially. I'm always getting waves and hugs and smiles. fucking adorable. Lately I've been trying to get photos of them to one of my program directors, so that means I stalk them and ask them nicely to stand in the hall and smile. It feels like I'm a paparazzo, without the upsetting questions. "Hey, Sam, is it true that you're a doo doo head and that you don't believe girls have cooties?!"
3. I have no plans for NYE, and that is a terrifying and foreign feeling. It's my favorite holiday. I'm thinking weekend in Chicago, at a really fucking nice hotel. Ugh, I'm such a romantic.
4. Speaking of which, tell me why all I want to do is bake? is it because of the season, or is it because I'm in a happily committed relationship? I don't get it, but I'll still eat it. Tuesday I made a red velvet cake (heavy on the red, light on the velvet), and tomorrow, I'm making a pumpkin cheesecake. the scariest part? I LIKE BAKING. There, I said it.
5. I've whined about it on facebook and twitter, but JESUS ALMIGHTY I NEED A HAIRCUT. And I think some more dye. I crave fire and passion. I crave red. I think in the new year, my next hair adventure is going to entail me sitting on my hands and letting the back part of my hair grow out some and then cutting it all off so I can spike it. (yes, curly girls can spike it)

Maybe next time I'll discuss what it feels like when the typically passive become sexually aggressive. I feel a paper coming on...

In Which The Chills Keep Coming

Oh, hello.

Let's kick things off with a list.

things I am upset about:

1. the lack of attention the shift key pays to me on the work computer
2. how cold it is in the office
3. how I did on the GRE
4. impending deadlines
5. this cold that I have
6. the meds I am taking for said cold throw in a built in fever reducer. I have have no fever. Put this together with #2, and you get an idea of what kind of icy misery I'm in.
7. the fact that one of my grad programs wants me to take ANOTHER test.
8. how dry my hands are due to the amount of hand washing and sanitizing I do
9. the fact that I am still in search of the perfect finishing touches for Matt's anniversary present.

Yeah, pretty sure stress was how I got sick in the first place. GRE studying, lack of good sleep, blatant encouragement from my organizational superiors to be more proactive with my job, trying to be the perfect girlfriend, trying to be a good friend...I think it all just kind of imploded on me. It left me here, freezing at work with all types of chemical reactions going off. DayQuil + multivitamin + vitamin C infused cough drops + birth control = unheard of focus issues.

I have no idea why my faith in anything is so shaky. One little disaster, and all of a sudden, I am full of self loathing. GRE scores are unofficially abysmal, and must I refer you to the month of weeping known as the aftermath of the fellowship incident? According to some rough figures I looked up, my verbal score was somewhere in the 80th, maybe 81st percentile, and math was in the i'mnotfuckingtellingyouthatemarassing percentile. I have never done so poorly on a standardized test ever. Everybody's really worried, which is nice. I think that the main reason that they worry is that they seem to think I'm really hard on myself, which I'm not. Look at me, look at my life, nothing about it says "I'm too hard on myself". Ok so maybe I am a little hard on myself, seeing as I consider scoring higher than 80% of test takers abysmal. But let's face it, for my personal ambitions, it is.

However, being sick is the best diet I could have asked for. I have to force myself to eat and water does just as well as food most of the time.

I think I worry about my relationship because I don't know how to not worry about it. I loathe my body because I don't know how to not loathe it. When I was 20 lbs thinner, I thought I was fat. when I was 20 lbs thinner than that, I still thought I was fat.

We'll see.
Work beckons, profound insights are....en route.

In Which I Am Making it Work.

I finally got temporarily placed at a school. It was not my original school, nor one of my choices, but shit, I love it here. I don't want to disclose the name of said school, but its an Afrocentric school in the DPS network. I am tempted to do my best Angela Davis and wear nothing but afros and black turtlenecks to school every day. Its great, we start the week with this thing called harambee. Lots of affirmations and African drums. Upon entering a classroom, all the kids stand have to go "Jaaaaaaambo! Hellllllllo! [something something, sounds like meebee mambo] Mr./Mrs./Miss [last name]!" I fucking love that.

My coworkers are great. The one I'm kind of working under right now is really cool and knows fucking everybody. Our officemate is another Americorps member we trained with I used to hate. Turns out he has a coffeemaker that he brought in. And he's funny. And tall. And shit, I'm stopping now. he's cool. Done and done.

I still have no idea what I'm doing.

In other news about stuff hyperliterate ex gothish kids like, my coworker and I were out doin thangs, but we had to stop in a gas station. I go in and what do I see? *hallelujah noise* The legal cloves that can be sold in the US. This is the first time I've seen them in Michigan. Not only that, but they had a fucking variety: the blacks, the kind that have the goldish colored filter, possibly a variation of the bali hais, and CHERRY FLAVORED BLACKS.

the pack is in my pocket, just waiting to be smoked.

hanging out in the office now, pretending to look efficient and busy. Nobody's walked by, so my attempt to gauge how effective my ruse is is not working.

I think I'll walk the halls shortly to remind people I'm still here, being inefficient.

In Which Certain Realizations Come To Light

Realization #1: I have only gained twenty pounds since I graduated high school. When framed this way, I don't feel so fat. However, ten of those were in the last two to three years. Overall, my body is not as bad as I think it is.

Realization #2: I AM LIVING THE DREAM. Yes, the caps were necessary. Work is still stupid and hasn't called me to go in for my first official day, so I've been studying for the GRE. When I'm not studying, I'm watching Logo, VH1 Classic, snseless shit on the internet...but I am pretty sure I am still getting paid (emphasis on pretty sure). Let me spell it out for you: I AM GETTING PAID TO LEARN ALL KINDS OF ACADEMIC SHIT AND WATCH TV. This has been my life's goal for the last seven years. The only thing that doesn't quite fit in with said dream is tht I am still living at home.

Realization #3: I should have cut my hair a long long time ago.

Realization #4: Other people are exhausting

Realization #5: babies are cool, especially when they start walking and talking and speaking the language.

Realization #6: There were more realizations here than i initially thought.

Realization #7: There are few things cooler than spending the evening on my boyfriend's parents couch, with my boyfriend and a glass of wine.

Realization #8: The Roots are awesome.

Realization #9: I don't write nearly as much as I should.

Realization #10: A world without cable is not one I want to live in.

In Which I Pick Up, Amplify, and Relinquish Several Habits

Operation Job

Status: Complete

I'm supposed to start this week. I have not heard anything yet as to when to report. I am not complaining. As that fateful day approaches, though, I find myself more and more anxious. The pressure to excel is enormous. Any sort of free time is devoured, and my feelings are so hurt. For example: Mayer Hawthorne is going on tour this fall. Despite being from Ann Arbor, there is one Michigan tour date scheduled. Its in Grand Rapids. ON A WEDNESDAY. Obviously, this does not please me. There's a Chicago date, but could I make a weekend of it? Nooooooooooo, that has to be on a wednesday or thursday too. Whomp whomp.

I used today to (mostly) study for the GRE. It has been decided that all I need in order to ace the verbal portion is access to a good dictionary (preferably not an OED, that sucker is huuuuuuuuuge).

I haven't started studying for math yet. This is what I should be doing, instead of watching Ally McBeal and cruising the internet for social oddities. Words I can do, its the numbers that fuck things up.

Speaking of fucked up, how I've made it two years in one relationship is beyond me. Something's gotta be right about it, otherwise we would have been done long ago. I'm happy, he's happy, we're happy. The last few weeks have been pretty hurdle-y due to being the listening ear to two breakups, bitchy friends, and the inevitable insecurity that sets in because of them. However, in the words of Ben Folds "I can't wait until the future gets here".

Yes, I have been shopping pink ssapphires again.

Now I want to listen to Sting's Brand New Day album.

And could you please stop judging me for being excited for The Social Network? I blame Kanye West. It comes out this friday and I couldn't be more excited.

Sometimes the best things come out of the worst ones.

life is well scriped like that. The sitcom must happen.

Jen: "you better not let your mom check your mail anytime soon

i'm sending you a slap"

In Which I Wander Away and Come Back and Consider Professional Help.

Previously, on a very special blog post of The Likes of Which Have Never Been Scene:

Me: "I'm going to Chicago, and I have no idea how this is going to come together!"

fade to black.

So I was going to drive to Chicago, but ran into some parental opposition at the last minute, so I took the bus. I like the Megabus overall, but my primary criticism is that leaving Chicago was way too much trouble.

North Coast was boss as hell. Friday consisted of Chemical Brothers and getting way too close to my fellow man. Saturday, Grace Potter was awesome as was The New Deal (my first introduction to them). De La Soul was a lot of fun, and I was not drunk or high enough to put up with Moby fans. Should have tried to find some E. Sunday was definitely the best day. Mayer Hawthorne was everything I dreamed and then some. Lupe Fiasco killed it and Nas and Damian Marley were pretty good. Probably the best present ever.

I continued to celebrate throughout the week.

And then the following week, two of my best friends get dumped back to back, which threw me into a dizzying realm of anxiety I'm still kind of climbing out of. Well, that's what started it, but what kept it rolling was the following:

1. I was helping my (mom's) cousin out and watching their (cousin/wife) three girls under the age of ten. One's teething, one's three...or five...I'm not sure, and the oldest is nine. Great girls, but I'm not used to the sibling drama. I'm a kid person, but I'm not. It's weird.

2. After I worked things out being a babysittter, I get a call for the Detroit area Americorps job I applied for. They want to interview. I interviewed. I was awkward, they called me back to offer the position to me anyway. I start training on monday. I have no idea what I'm doing. Cue unwarranted tears, yelling, hyperventilation, irrational hatred.

3. Sometimes my friends are twats. I love them....but some of them can be major twats. Telling me things about Matt that I can't do anything about, or at least won't bring about anything positive or productive. I'm not that kind of girl. What was in the past stays in the past. I mean, i know I brought some of this on myself when I violated "girl code". Hang the code. They're more like guidelines anyway. But I followed the right protocol. I explicitly asked if my dating Matt was going to be a problem. I was told no. I can only operate from what I'm told. And I'd really appreciate if you'd not rip on my boyfriend of two years when I'm around. Kthx.

4. Since I'll be working at a school with Americorps, they want me to get a TB test and a child abuse clearance. Obtaining those things was the biggest exercise in inefficiency outside of college. No, really:

-renewing license: time in line~ 2-3 hours. Time actually spent renewing my license ~5-7 minutes.

-obtaining TB test: time spent at doctor's office: ~1.5-2 hours before realizing that my new insurance is shit, so I have to pay out of pocket. Cash only. Ride to the ATM (stuck behind old guy) and White Castle (stuck behind dumb heifer): ~ 40 minutes. Time spent in the waiting room after that: ~ 40 minutes. Time spent getting pricked with a needle: ~2 minutes.

-Obtaining child abuse clearance: time spent trying to find the office because its hidden in a strip mall and no sign on the marquis: ~ 1 hour. Time spent in line to ask if I'm even in the right place and get the freaking form: ~1.5 hours. Time spent filling out said form: ~3-5 minutes.

moral of the story? Fuck waiting rooms. And apparently I am impatient.

and 5. Two year anniversary in November. I have no idea what to get him, or how to tell him that I like pink Sapphires. Or how to really assess where our relationship is.

I guess shopping this afternoon (under the guise of work clothes/birthday present shopping), and drag queen bingo tonight. God help us all.

Tonight make me unstoppable. Give me grace and dancing feet.

In Which I Am Trying To Plow My Way Through Fargo...

...Rock City, that is. The Chuck Klosterman book. I'm trying to get through it (even though I am not a metal fan, I will wlways be a Klosterman fan), because I told myself that once Frago Rock City's done, I can move on to Eating The Dinosaur. Hopefully this will align with my birthday celebration weekend perfectly.

Speaking of, as an early present to myself, I bought some delicious looking Nine West heels (4.5", the way God wrote it in the fashion bible. ), and a haircut with some color. So far the short red hair has been met with rave reviews. I'm still playing around with it, but I am most excited by the fact that with the right pins and products I could have a funky little fauxhawk.

"The Prayer" by Bloc Party describes my prayers right now.

File under F, for fucking decisions:

So North Coast is in a week and half. Totally pumped like cheap unleaded gas. However, I will need to get there. Here are my options:

1. Drive.

Pros: set my own timetable, stop in Kzoo and visit (especially Preggo Steph who would be due any day by then), get my microdermal put back in.
Cons: I still have to fucking drive five hours, it will be about $80 round trip in gas alone.

2. Train.

Pros: nice and quiet(ish, but we know how my train stories seem to go), lots of space, parking at train station, don't have to drive drive
Cons: expensive, (like $73 last time I checked. May as well drive.)

3. Bus

Pros: cheaper than train (by $20), don't have to drive, no last minute price escalation
Cons: gets cramped (especially on return trips), something stupid almost always happens

4. Hybrid (drive, then bus)

Pros: get to stop in Kzoo, still get microdermal redone, don't have to drive as far
Cons: still on a strictish schedule, just as expensive as drving the whole way, still have to drive a decent amount, parking in Kalamazoo can kiss my ass

And I have a week to decide. Good luck fucker!

In other news, I have applied for a job. In Chicago. With Google. Fingers crossed.

This is going to be expensive. My hair will need doing next week.

Tonight, make me unstoppable.

I need Chicago just as much as Chicago needs me. Why doesn't Chicago understand that?

I need to write more.

In Which I Get Melodramatic

And if you are opposed to that for whatever reason, stop reading.

Right now I'm going to show you the current chink in my armor.

I feel like nobody cares, and I really hope its the hormones making me say that. But that's the way I honestly feel right now. Maybe its the most hardcore case of separation anxiety (that I have never felt in my life, no sarcasm intended), but all I want to do is hurt/endanger myself so someone can prove to me that the world would not be a better place if I dropped off its face (rhymes? This is worse than I thought).

And lately the idea of going out to bars and flirting until I am the subject of an indecent proposal keeps sounding better. I would never ever do anything to jeopardize my relationship. This is 100% about self validation. I want to be reminded of how valuable I am, because that self-love letter keeps getting lost in the mail.

This is sounding more and more like a therapist's worst nightmare.

Every day is sounding more and more like my worst nightmare.

But then a phone call (or skype call can save my life).

In Which I Don't Worry Today

random quips:

me: will wine and 500 Days of Summer end poorly?
Matt:how could it? Can't be worse than vodka and Life is Hot In Cracktown.

I'm laughing because it really happened.

In Which This Should Be Heard With A Phat Beat And Auto-Tune

I am geeked that everyone shut the fuck up for a minute. Went and did some last minute campaigning for my friend Chris who's running for 60th district state representative, and one of the girls that I was with would not shut the hell/fuck (choose whichever expletive you like more) up. It was just all runtogetherandspitatmeinrapidfiresucessionjustlikethis and enough to make me want to kick all five feet of her as far away from me as the seven inches I have on her would allow. I thought it was the lack of ines in my system. I got my two favorite ines in me and I was okay for a minute and then I went to work and had to listen to myself discuss why plagiarism is bad for close to an hour.

And then two of my coworkers got chatty on my ass until the student I was talking to about the joys of proper quote citation told them (us?) to shut the fuck up (my words, not his). And now I can relish this silence and listen to all the episodes of Auto-Tune The News my remaining time allows.

Hide your kids, hide your wife. Hide your husband, they're raping everybody out here.

I'm tired. Between moving and having put enough miles on my mom's PT Cruiser to be in Florida, I think I'm allowed to be.

I'm going to see Matt this weekend though! I am two work days and thirty minutes from getting ready to leave for Chicago. Not a moment too soon, everyone and everything is rubbing me the wrong way. My friends from home, my friends from Kzoo, coworkers, strangers (not in the craigslist casual encounters way)...

Reading feminist theory just ruins all your favorite things in life, like being nice, for example.

I am homelessish and that's okay.

In Which Staring Really Hard Does Not Make It So

I am going to live. Whether or not this last shot hits the target , I'll live.

That being said, I have issues verbalizing how I really feel and condensing that into 500 words or less.

I feel good. I think its because I look good. Well, better. I look better. I'm not doing it the healthy way, but I am doing it the liberated way. Well the kind of healthy way. Less fried food, little to no booze, (that being said, I have fallen off the booze wagon. Last week my cousin was doing a DJ set in Kalamazoo, and there were $2 you-call-its, so I was knocking the Absolut and tonics back like they were candy. I can't be tamed, er blamed), three cigarettes and a meal and a snack a day. Water helps a lot of these things. So does soul-blackening black coffee.

Welcome to the new administration.

So much paperwork beckons, as well as boxes for papers and clothes. I have less than a week to put my life into so many boxes.

So it goes.