In Which I Guess I'm Doing This

This is the day your life will surely change.

I grew the balls I needed to say what I’m thinking. However, I still need to pick the heck out of my nose. Can’t do that in public, even I think that’s rude.

Tonight is name that tune. Seriously I’m so excited because it’s the one thing I can honestly and effortlessly excel at. My obsession has taken itself to another level though: I practice. I scan the radio and I practice, practice, practice. My classic rock (my worst genre) is improving. I need to brush up on my Weird Al as well. I wish I had taken school as seriously as I currently take music trivia at the bar. I will always take drinking and popular culture more seriously. It’s what I do.

My car needs coolant. I’m trying to hold out because I’m poorish, but I don’t know if I can. It was a pretty sketch drive to work this morning. The temp light nearly came on. It nearly dinged at me. I need gas and the gas by school is expensive. The station I like is all kinds of tardy to the Gas Under Four Dollars Party (the gas is too damn high?)

I can't get this pressure point outta my head. I pitched the proposal, laden with all kinds of hints. Now how do I pitch pink sapphires?

In Which I Acquire Things to Put on My Resume

I have skills. I have hair anxiety. I have obsessions.

Bitches be jocking my style. I should be flattered, but instead I'm just annoyed. I'm not sure what my fixation with standing out is, but I own it. Thses 5" platform heels are proof. These flower barrettes are proof. This iTunes library is proof. So is the fact that I can't seem to drive a car that doesn't have a tape deck. Maybe I should give away my cache of flowers (even though it would break my heart to do so, because its pretty much my signature) and move on to the next thing (even though I have no idea wtf it would be...bracelets, or fishnets perhaps?). Its like the Spice Girls: Sporty (Mel C) can't suddenly start rocking animal prints (a la Scary/Mel B), or dresses no longer than a bandana (basically any other spice who is not Sporty, but Posh/Victoria in particular). Its...wrong somehow. Ugh, maybe I'll just ride it out and hope my friend gets bored with it.

I helped write/edit a grant. We got the money. You better believe I am taking full credit for this...on my resume. I didn't write the whole thing, but I edited the whole thing, rewrote entire portions, and did extra research. Dammit, that's counting for something. I write letters that everyone seems to adore, even though I'm not exactly sure why. I just follow templates and use simple, direct language. However, this is not a skill everyone seems to possess. Go figure.

I still need to work on writing samples.

My hair is becoming a source of insecurity and anxiety for me. It's a weird length, a weird color, and we won't even start on texture issues (oh, look! I'm a real black girl after all!). I want to grow it out, because I'm prettier with long hair, but I feel more fierce with short hair. This midlength business is ridiculous. And not to mention that all my friends have fabulous hair/haircuts, just adds to the anxiety. Maybe I will go ahead and cut it, and then dye it for my birthday. There. Happy comprimise. And so begins the cut fretting. I think I'll cut the top down, leave the back as it is, and cut the sides. Hawk-licious. June. June June June. It'll be on. Yes. I feel better. And It'll be fierce as an all over blonde. Now I just need to find a place that can cut me the way I concieve. My regular hairdresser isn't going to cut it, I think. (no pun or disrespect intended)

See the cat? See the cradle?

Now, who's hungry?

In Which Nobody Needs To Know I'm Feeling Higher And Higher

Sometimes I quit smoking . Sometimes I start back up again.

Sometimes I drive to Chicago. Sometimes I drive back again.

Sometimes I blame it on the rain. Torrential downpours at night in a 10 year old car are not my forte. It's my boyfriend's fault. I blame it on love.

It's weird to think that I'll be going to grad school in the fall. It's also weird to think that I'm paying on student loans. Let's compound that with the fact that I'm probably going to move in with Matt when I go.

It doesn't seem real to me. That might be a coping mechanism though. I either obsess to the point of anxiety, or I ignore it until it refuses to be set aside. Either way, I hyperventilate. I got the following text at 1:17 this morning (EDT): "Side note, when are you mentioning to your mom your plans to move with me into Chicago?" The wording's not perfect but the idea is clear.

I have yet to respond.

I keep trying to reconcile this whole moving thing with this whole conservative mother thing and I only keep coming up with a sitcom/bad ABC Family/Lifetime movie thing: "fake" engagement. That'll at least legitimize things somewhat with my mother, and that'll at least pacify me from going full blown Beyonce on a motherfucker. We'll run this by him and see how it goes, minus the Beyonce part.

I know I keep saying that, but the objective is to actually mean it one day.

Work is work. I am in full blown don't give a fuck mode, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to quit when the money does. After this week, I'll be just shy of halfway done with my hours. I don't think this money's going to pan out. I cry/panic about this once a week. Five thousand dollars is way too much money to walk away from, especially for an aspiring academic. But there's gotta be some kind of appeal process or something, right? I can't be that screwed yet, right?

Right?

Rage aginst the inefficient machine.

In other news, I have got to be hireable. Here's why: I just saw a job posting from Northwestern (my academic hard-on of choice as of late) for a job dealing with (not making this part up, either)..."Post-Bachelorette Studies". I assume they meant "baccalaureate". Seriously. I read another letter this morning, sent to my school by McDonald's. Two glaring errors and I realized I had no desire whatsoever to work with them. The bitchy lady on the phone didn't help things either. Did I mention this was at the corporate level?

This was at the corporate level.

I really need to get this writing sample party going. So I can submit my application then panic and obsess and panic and obsess.

And its only noon.

In Which Time Gets Away From Me Sometimes

Its always fun to worry.

I'm pretending to work, and I assure you that I am not as lazy as my posts seem to indicate. My laptop (on loan from my mom) has taken a shit on me, which puts me back with Dr. Strangelove, my beeping timebomb of a Franken-laptop. This means typing and thought more complete and comprehensive than "lol" is more work than it should be.

So here I am, at work, faking the funk until I leave for lunch and or my boss gets here.

I checked out of this job quite a piece ago, but shit, I need the money and the benefits and the letters of rec I ought to squeeze out of every person I have ever worked with. Well, almost every person I have worked with. Something's better than nothing at all.

Things are kind of looking up, as far as some other things go, mostly wedding related.

My boyfriend confuses me. I'll go into detail soon enough, mostly when I get another time to breathe and eat.

I went to see The Suicide Machines on Saturday. I met a million people, got hit on twice and even saw somebody I knew. Those are my favorite kind of nights, full of unexpected diva status (the good kind).

And on that note, I'm getting into some sun.

In Which The Printer Doesn't Work But I Keep Looking Busy and Efficient

At work, starving, and unable to print. I could ask the computer guy, and I'm sure he could fix it, but he just stepped out and I don't feel like being productive. Which brings me here, with an empty stomach and constant fretting.

The hunger, unlike the fretting, feels good.

I decided I'm running away next week. Three weeks will have passed since I last got to see Matt, and Jesus H Christ on ice, I'm losing my damn mind.I miss him (like the deserts miss the rain).

The closer this wedding gets, the higher my anxiety levels go. My contract will be ending right around the time of the bachelor(ette) party. Of course, the plan seems to be going to Vegas. Which I really can't afford, between saving and drinking (which is the only thing saving my sanity right now) and overall living expenses, that doesn't leave too much to play with. Unfortunately right now, getting out of Michigan is more important than going to Vegas. I can save and go to Vegas anytime. And there's still the whole matter of who do I take to the wedding? Is this going to be about my sanity or hers? I'm probably going to be a drunk sour Sally already because having photographic evidence of me standing next to striptease falcon gazelle amazons is already going to be enough to send me over the edge. Not to mention that I can't even properly celebrate my birthday, which will at least put me on the sad sack bus and make it have a layover in pissy town. But I feel like shit because this is supposed to be about her and not about me. Read as: minimal drama. Things may or may not get shitty if I bing Matt, so I have Richard as a backup date. *gasp for breath* Aaaaaaaaaand let's not ignore that I have to buy my dress, a present, my shoes, my hair, crash diet like hell...I'm going to try to have a chic, economical wedding, because this is absolutely bonkers.

I've considered writing to an etiquitte column for guidance on what's appropriate. Upon consult of my peers, they seem to advise against low-cut dresses with sky high heels. The heels are non negotiable. I'm going to need a 4-inch minimum.

I am a bad daughter. I didn't forget my mom's birtday, but I forgot a card and a present. I also forgot that offering to buy dinner doesn't fix that. I also forgot that my mom is psycho about cards and forgetting one is on par with forgetting her birthday.

I'm thirsty, but I'm drying out. Thursday is the only day I'm allowed to drink until the end of March. I gotta go to Name That Tune at the Bench Pub and dominate. It's like joining a soccer team, only its getting drunk with Katy. And I'm good. Really good. Like Alliance offers good. Like the only thing I'm excelling at good.

I got invited to the gym. I don't know if I'm flattered or offended. Or maybe people were just tired of hearing me bitch about my weight.

Pretty sure once April hits, I'm undergoing a metamorphasis. Can we say pixie cut?

Pixie cut.

And once summer happens, this shit is going to be pink and/or blonde.

In Which I Break Stuff

...mostly dresses.

I broke a dress and couldn't fit into others. I didn't cry. Well, I didn't cry at the mall. I told myself no, and for some stupid reason, I listened. Maybe it was my sober voice of reaason. Instead of crying, I ate a whole pizza, plus chicken dumplings, smoked a cigarette, and crawled into bed feeling more than a little sorry for myself.

It's just one of those fat, lonely failure nights.

I just found out that one of my best friends from childhood got accepted to go to school in England. Bad food, worse weather, Mary Poppins, yeah, that England. It just sucks that everyone gets to move forward with their life and here I am, a size 14 (or 16, depending on the store and the dress), living at home with a two something GPA, no letters of rec, a long distance boyfriend, no steady paycheck after july, and an overwhelming need for outside validation.

At least I'm not pregnant.

Jesus H. Christ on ice and Mary in the peanalty box, I would kill a child if it meant someone would hug me and tell me it gets better and mean it.

Where's the celebrity campaign for that? I'm first in line.

Ugh. I'm grossing myself out with this pity party.

off to do something that will make me forget, or at least make my brain go shhhhh.

In Which I Wake Up and Cry For No Reason

I know I am not perfect. I swear I've been aware of this for quite some time. I can't shake this feeling that I'm less than because I'm not perfect. Everyone seems to be disappointed, even though I'm still trying.

I like steady paychecks. And insurance. That's the only thing keeping me at this job. Yesterday I had to come in, even though the kids had the day off. I did about five minutes of actual work and then proceeded to bitch like Dante from Clerks about how I wasn't supposed to be here today. It doesn't look good for my grad school fund.

I still have today off and I am going to shop and remind myself about how drunk I'm going to get Saturday. Saturday is the official bridesmaids meet and greet, and I can solidify what I knew all along: beached whales are my spirit animal. We are all shopping together, and the only way this will not end in tears is if I have enough rum and wine in me to kill a large dog. I just have to be careful if I try on shoes. The last thing I need to pay for is a pair of shoes I barely like because I drunkenly toppeled off a pair of 4 inch heels and broke them.

Things with Matthew are still good, even though I can't help but wonder how attracted he is to a fat girlfriend. We're still talking about moving in, and I'm still wondering how I'm going to explain that one to my mother. Everything I come up with sounds like a bad sitcom/ romantic comedy plot. I miss him always and today is particularly bad. Another year of this is not going to fly. Just once I'd like to live in the same city as someone I'm dating. Give that a whirl and see what the fuss is about.

My hair is growing out. Slowly, but surely.

Now I'm going to play Animal Crossing and wish someplace delivered bagels.

In Which I Don't Mind When Shit Happens

I started my car this morning. The engine turned over, I swear. My mother as my witness. This was early, before I had to leave. Then I actually had to leave and the fucker wouldn't do what it just did less than an hour before. I called AAA, because during my last roadside assistance call, they said I couldn't do anything until March 1, 2011. Lucky me. I get on the phone with AAA and they told me that I can't do anything until I pay the renewals for all three accounts. I wasn't gonna. So I call my mom I don't even know how many times, and all by bumass friends are working, so I am stuck at home. I called in to work, said I was going to try to make it, but I wasn't going to promise anything. Mom finally gets back to me...TWO HOURS (after the initial call) LATER. She calls AAA and gets things straightened out. I get the green light to call AAA and use a service call. So here I sit, waiting for AAA, watching MTVHits and preparing to get the fuck out and by a new battery. I don't mind, because I'm in counting the days until the end of my contract mode.

Also, I enjoy the playlist on MTVU way too much. How was I unaware of the awesomeness of "Barbara Streisand" by Duck Sauce and the absolute party known as the LCD Soundsystem video for "Drunk Girls"? Sheeeeiiiit.

Feeling so fly like a G6.

I can't wait to be done here, so I can move out and call somewhere else home.

Why? Because I love him. Why? Because I can excel acedemically there. Why? Because it's time the future quit taking its sweet ass time.

Dear MTV: why must gyrating children make more money than i ever will with any kind of advanced degree?

...awkward.

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.