The One... The Only... The Vieve

Baby got back

Looking back at those pictures from 2001 and 2002 also made me realize that I did not have an ass back then. Flat flat, no shape. I have a pretty nice one now, though, and that makes me happy.

Vive les asses!

Search strings - best of August

milf

#1 this month! Also, m.i.l.f was #9 and 'milf' was #12. The Interweb: home of horny teenage boys.

sexy ears

I guess other people are just as puzzled by Murakami's seeming obsession with women's ears as I am?

cheese suspenders scifi

My favorite. Puzzling, obscure, and cheese-involving. What could be better?

Past

I've been spending a fair amount of time over the past couple of days looking at pictures from a handful of years ago. Parties I went to in 2001 and 2002, with pictures of Greg and the beach on the Cape and the hippie commune in New Hampshire and friends and acquaintances I hardly see anymore. It's making me feel a little sad and strange -- it wasn't all that long ago, but it feels like another lifetime.

I guess a new important person coming into my life is what has sparked it, this remembering. We moved in the same orbit around that time, but never met, at least not that I can remember. But we know so many of the same people, and have these pseudo-shared memories, and it's a strange feeling. This almost-sharing-but-not-quite. And I'm not sure why I'm thinking about it so much.

So I have this weird stuck-in-the-past haze that's surrounding me, and I'm having a hard time focusing on the present and the future right now. It makes my head hurt, but maybe it's just something I need to do right now, thinking back to the good and not so good, to shore up my plans and desires. Looking back to find my way forward.

New Hampshire, 2001

Unstructured

I expected last week to be relaxing. It was not.

Besides the fact that there were a lot of things going on -- changes and leavings and frustrations and disappointments -- I think that all of my unstructured time was a big problem. I'm not used to it. It makes me anxious. I think about all of the things I could be doing, and it paralyzes me. Sometimes too many choices turns out to be counterproductive. Like choosing a new shampoo out of the 50 different kinds at CVS, the dithering you need to do becomes an enormous timesink.

I have some work this week, though not too much, so I think it will be a nice balance between busy and free time.

My head is too full of sensible minutiae. I feel boring.

Good things

Good things so far today:

• I got up and went to the gym this morning (6:30!), the first time in over a month.
• I remembered about street cleaning, and moved my car before I got a $50 ticket.
• I picked up a Weekly Dig and thoroughly appreciated its cover.
• I bought some Rick James on iTunes.
• I realized the only thing I even kinda-sorta have to do today is buy laundry detergent.

The push-pull of missing

I've been thinking lately about missing: missing people who are far away, missing things I once had, missing the ways things once were. It can hurt sometimes, and feel empty, those little missing spaces, those phantom limbs.

Ultimately, though, I'm glad I have those things to miss.

The kind of girl you read about

Aw yeah, that's me. Happy birthday, you.

Overwrought

I don't even know what to write about, but I need to anyway.

The merry-go-round has been spinning pretty quickly this past week, and I want to get off. It was fun for a while, but now it's making me queasy. And sleepy; I've been taking a lot of naps.

I was looking forward to this time, a delicious lull between old work and new, but it has turned out to be anything but. Instead, I'm agitated, annoyed, exhausted, pissy, and anxious. The unstructured time makes me fret about what I should be doing, rather than luxuriating in what I want to do. Which makes me tired and causes me to nap instead of doing anything.

Too many people leaving this week as well, both physically and...perceptually? paradigmically? Something. Shifts that have been sad and have left me feeling adrift.

I see this as a liminal space, though, and not some deep-dark well I'll have to clamber out of. I'm moving through it, even as I grump. All is flux.

Torn

If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely
challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn
between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world.
This makes it hard to plan the day. -E.B. White, writer (1899-1985)

Bruised

I have bruises all over me, from taking a header off the stairs last week, knocking into things, preoccupied distraction making my body clumsy. And I have other bruises, too, from other clumsy actions. The latter hurt more and are much harder to deal with.

Topsy-turvy

I was so tired today, and this was such a crazy week, I was looking forward to spending some time alone and going to bed early. But now I feel a little lonely and sad, and wish I had some company. Someone to just eat dinner with and watch a movie with and fall asleep with. It's strange, this flux. It has me feeling a little topsy-turvy. But I think it's OK, in the long run, as long as I don't bury it. Feel it, and move on to the next day.

Comings and goings

Three hours of sleep + 5am airport run + a huge plate of meat at Redbones for goodbye lunch + 1 big beer during said lunch = sleepy Vieve.

This is a week of transitions. Leavings and new beginnings, a heady mix of sadness, nostalgia, gratitude, and excitement. Life-changing stuff that's been gathering steam for weeks and months (and years, I suppose), all converging in a bright burst of everything-is-different-now feeling.

There were some toasts last night on my porch. To the realization that everything is forever in flux. To fine people and good friends. And to... well, I'll keep that one between the toasters. Ahem.

Another toast: to in-between places, almost-through places, before places, after places, good places, bad places, better places, future places, past places, now places. All the places that shape us and make life so goddamn rich and beautiful.

:-)!!

I've noticed lately that I've been peppering all of my electronic communications with smileys and exclamation points. I wonder if it's becoming annoying to my communicants(?), or if it's endearing and they're just pleased I'm so smiley and peppy.

I've also been thinking that I haven't had many interesting things to talk about lately. (Nothing I can write about here, anyway -- I try to keep this thing R, or at the most NC-17. Hee.) Does happiness make me a boring writer? Or have I just been too busy doing things, I haven't had time to think about them? Maybe a bit of both, and hopefully more of the latter. The hummingbird syndrome is in full effect this week, darting from flower to flower. It's a jumbly-wumbly adventure, and hopefully I'll have time to write about it soon. And time to do my laundry. :-)

Fucking fuck

It is a Very Bad Thing when you catch yourself walking down the hall at work, returning to your office from fighting with a recalcitrant printer, muttering, "Fuck fuck fucking fuck."

Fucking fuck. That's all I can say at the moment.

Busted

I walked into the book store near my house this morning, the one where I'll be working part-time starting in September, to get my coffee as usual, and my favorite coffee lady said, "You have a blog!"

"Oh shit," I said.

Not that I at all mind people reading this. If I did, I wouldn't put it out on the Interweb, obviously. But it creates this strange dynamic that can be a little surreal. When people you barely know (or don't know at all), say, know what you ate for dinner last night,* that's just...weird. Not surprising or uncomfortable, really, just odd. And with people I do know well, sometimes I'll start to tell a story and they'll gently cut me off with, "Oh, right, I read about that. That's funny!" or something along those lines. Again, not a bad thing, but...weird.

I guess I just haven't wrapped my head around the fact that people actually do read this. I guess that's part of it, anyway. Friends, friends of friends, acquaintances, complete strangers, maybe my parents (eep). They're interested in my life and my writing (or are just incredibly nosy and/or bored at work), and it puts a spotlight on me (OK, I put a spotlight on myself) that makes me feel a little squirmy inside. There's a funny little tug-o-war that goes on in my head as I write, wondering what I should keep private, what I should refer to obliquely, what I should balls-out reveal. It doesn't keep me up at night, but again...weird. A strange tension, a slightly bizarre public/private dynamic, for this (formerly?) shy violet. An often hidden exhibitionist streak manifested in digital text.

Enjoy.

* (Chicken and broccoli. And some potato chips. And some cookies. And a pudding pop. Look, I was hungry!)

I forthwith flee from the land of geeks

One of the things I'll "miss" about my current job is learning things like YAML stands for "YAML Ain't Markup Language." (Har har.) Thankfully, I'm apparently like catnip to the computer geeks of this world, so I'm sure they'll all help fill this imminent vacuum.

Here it goes again

I am completely obsessed with this video.

Beautiful

I woke up this morning not very happy to face the day. I wanted to stay in bed. I have a lot of shitty work to do, which is hard to focus on when you have one foot out the door. (And has been hard to focus on for the past two weeks, which is why I have so much right now. Shhh.) My throat hurt (allergies, I think). I pulled something in my hip flexor, and it hurts to walk.

But I got in the shower anyway, got dressed, headed outside to get my coffee at the book store. I got across my street, Spoon's "Small Stakes" on the iPod, and looked at the blue blue sky, and such an immense feeling of joy flooded through me and I grinned like a loon and cried a bit at the same time. It's good to be alive. Shitty work be damned.

Sometimes, you just really need a cookie

My coworker was having a rough day, very grumpy and grumbly about work. So when I went to Whole Foods to get lunch, I bought him a chocolate chunk cookie.

"I bought you a cookie. It seemed like you needed one today."

"Yeah, I really do. Thanks!"

Simple and small, but important.

Rock star

Things feel so right lately, sometimes I need to pinch myself. Sometimes I cry just a little bit, when the realization, "Holy shit, things are working out so damn well," rushes through me like a gentle sparkling current. It's overwhelming, in a way I'm not at all used to.

There have been other times in my life when things felt good and right. I was happy, things were moving along in exciting and interesting and promising ways. But this time feels different, and I think I've figured out why: before, it felt like things were happening to me; now, I feel like I'm making things happen. Not that I have control over everything that comes my way, but I'm doing a better job of recognizing opportunities and grabbing them. Figuring out what I want and who I want to spend time with and making choices that reflect those desires. Making plans and putting them into action. Formulating a future goal and figuring out how to get there as I go along.

It's made such a difference, and other people notice it too. I talked to the poopyhead the other night, who has known me since I was 15, and she said, "You sound so happy!" I've had people tell me things like, "Wow, you have balls!" and "You rock!" and other sincere flatteries. People, well, they really like me, the real me, not some persona I'm putting on, and they're excited to spend time with me. And everything fun and good and positive feeds on itself and generates more of the same, and it is a great and wonderful thing, especially during this year of so many lessons about loss and love and loneliness.

Maybe it sounds silly, but I feel a little like a rock star.

I'm sorry I missed this

Maybe next year.

Rough trade

Today is a hiccup in the recent flow. A road bump in my happy streak. I feel tired and a little sad, and I can't really talk about all of it with anyone, which makes it more difficult to process. I'll just let it run its course, and try to focus on work for a while, and it will resolve in some way. Or not, and I will learn to live with it in some way. Either is OK.

Snuggling up in bed with some tea and...hmm, a buttered crumpet with blueberry jam, and maybe a nice person would be good, though. Soothing. And then maybe a little Wonder Woman and a little nap. Nothing fancy, nothing exciting. Just some simple goodness. Ah well.

I love it when a plan comes together

Less important than my current road to self-discovery, perhaps, but I discovered something nice last night: the little backpack I use when I'm riding my bike is the absolute perfect size for holding a six pack.

Vieve 2.0

I've been reading past entries lately, going back to almost exactly a year ago when I started writing again. I wrote about how I didn't know what I wanted, how my desires and dreams felt snuffed out. I had been denying them for so long, I forgot what they were. What a terrible thing. It made me feel dead inside, and I was scared of everything. I guess it was partly forgetting and partly fear -- if I knew what I wanted, I would feel obligated to try to get it, and I didn't have any confidence that I would be able to achieve it. Failure seemed certain. I wasn't strong enough or good enough or worthy enough.

I'm amazed how far I've come in a year. I feel powerful, and free, and unafraid. I'm honest about what I want, and I try my best to get it. I worry less about what I "should" want or "should" get. What does that even mean, anyway, and who the hell defines those shoulds, and, maybe more importantly, why do I let them?

So I'm finally doing things to make me happy. I gave notice at work yesterday. I'm riding my bike and facing my fears about crazy Boston traffic. I'm exploring all sorts of things about myself and my relationships with other people. I'm planning to make a big move soon. I don't know how it's going to end up, but it's going to be pretty damn exciting finding out.

It tastes like...burning

I had bad dreams last night about...health insurance. How prosaic.

I have an air conditioner in my room now, just in time for the heat wave. It's a little loud, and kept waking me up last night, but it's definitely cool.

My sunburn hurts today.

When I was getting my coffee at the book store this morning, I saw they had bumper stickers and magnets and such with "01.20.09 Bush's Last Day" on them. It gave me a little thrill.

I am nervous. Last week was full of giddy excitement and wriggly victory dances, but now I feel a freakout coming on. I'll do what I have to do, though, and it will be fine. Great, even. But at this exact moment I feel more than a little pukey.