I went to get coffee this morning, to the Sherm, and a man with a beautiful and sweet German Shepherd was in front of me. After I got my coffee, I went over to the bank, to get enough cash to buy the Sunday paper. (Which I have to admit, I buy only for the crossword puzzle. Which I managed to finish today.) As I got there, the same man was leaving the bank, and asked, "Are you following me or am I following you?" I laughed, and said, "I'm following the dog!" Which I thought was cute and funny, but thinking about it, maybe it was rude? Maybe he was flirting with me, or just being friendly, and I shut him down, this seemingly nice man with his lovely dog. I don't know, but I'm still thinking about it.
Still thinking about it, this fleeting thing, and I wonder if this is emblematic of why I get so stuck. I think and think: I don't ask, I don't tell, I don't act. I think and ruminate, and get stuck in a self-contained loop of memory and supposition. I want to stop thinking and start doing, but things get in the way. There are other things, but I think this might be fundamental. And I wonder why and wonder whether this is really a problem, or if I just make it one.
Think think think. I think I'm thinking about this too much.
I saw The Golden Compass today, and while I love love love the books... well, see the title.
Two words: MORE BEARS.
Oh lordy. It's been a while, I know. I was distracted and dry, and I needed a break. It happens to the best of us. But after three comments about my silence (it doesn't take much), I felt the pressure to break it. So, some highlights:
- I ate an olive I didn't hate. Of course, it was stuffed with Gorgonzola, so given my love of cheese... it's not a complete win for the olive. I still hate raisins, don't worry.
- I continue to party like a 22-year-old occasionally. Like this Friday, when I stayed up until about 9 am, refusing to pass out until after everyone left. Even after I gave the last-on DJ a thank-you hug goodbye, I still sat around the dining room table for a bit and talked gibberish and eventually got a ridiculous case of the giggles, punctuated by proclamations of, "Holy crap, I'm so goddamn tired...". I'm getting too old for this shit, I think. But it was fun.
- I have a new nickname: Jeeves. I don't know how I feel about this, but I'm fond of the giver, so I'll let it slide.
- Also, according to the same source, I'm like Six Degrees of Separation, because I apparently know a surprising amount of people in this town. Eh, I've just lived here for a long time, and I know a lot of people who know a LOT of people. (I'm also two degrees of Kevin Bacon, but that's another story.)
- I've been seeing the same person since May (a recent dating record for me), who calls me Cupcake. Very possibly the sweetest, most lovable person I've ever met.
- I started running again, more or less, on the treadmill at the gym, about three or four times per week. It hurts my shins, and I really need new shoes. And more sports bras. Gotta protect the bazoongas.
- I'm planning to learn how to knit soon. I'm excited to make a fantastically lumpy scarf, or possibly a mitten with two thumbs.
- I'm also planning to take more pictures soon, thanks to my fancy new digital SLR, once I figure out all the buttons.
- I'll be bringing said camera with me later this week on my trip to North Carolina to visit the Poops and Mr. Poops. They're having a party while I'm there, and I've promised (threatened?) to bring my hotpants for the inevitable Pants-Off Dance-Off.
- I've taken a liking to Malbec. Delicious.
- I'm still freelance editing, and recently edited a book on pressure ulcers. Which apparently you have to check for their "odor." Ew. Now I'm learning a lot about GIF compression. Yeah. It's a living, more or less.
I'm still me, my life is still borderline ridiculous, and I watch too much shitty TV. (Oh Bravo and VH1/MTV, how I love you.)
Gros bise, all y'all. Aaaaaand good night.
I feel antsy today, without focus.
I seem to have developed Claritin-proof allergies. Annoying.
It's been a week since my last bike ride, and I'm itching to go on another one.
I have a strange and mysterious bruise on my left hand.
I ran out of new things to read last night, and so I had to resort to perusing the stupid Crate and Barrel catalog over my morning coffee. (Help me, Bookdwarf!)
I'm liking the weather today, but my office is freezing.
My room looks like a bomb hit it. Someone please save me from the laundry, unfiled bills, crinkled New Yorker and Weekly Dig magazines, books, empty water bottles, CDs, and other detritus before it buries me.
I got an email from the MSPCA this morning, asking for money (Flash the horse was 600 pounds underweight when they rescued him!), and it made me cry. I don't even like horses all that much. I am such a softy.
I can't wait to see Peaches Friday night. Bring on the hotpants and pink strap-on dildos!
I'm also excited to get crabs tonight. (Yeah yeah, not those crabs.)
Life is kind of exciting in general right now. Not in any major life-changing ways, but in lots and lots of small bits and pieces.
I really really need a nap.
I'm going to start taking belly dancing lessons next week! The teacher's name is Genevieve. Seriously. It's fate. Now I just need to find a hip scarf...
I really want to see Nacho Libre. I know it will be kinda dumb. But it will be dumb fun.
My new favorite chocolate is Scharffen Berger Gianduja. Yum.
Eating two helpings of mapo tofu and some aged provolone at 2am is not a good idea.
Sometimes, things you always thought were very difficult turn out to be surprisingly easy.
I forgot to mention that I haven't shaved my armpits for over a week now. They are pleasingly fuzzy. That's better.
I just found a nascent incarnation of one of those...moth things that like to eat grains in my bag of tamari almonds. I am so grossed out right now. What if I ate one?? Or one of its eggs? What if one is growing inside me RIGHT NOW?! I'll try not to think about this anymore.
I really really want a new bike. Preferably in time for the glorious weather that I'm sure is right around the corner. If you see or know of a cheap-ish bike ($100? and not a road bike and not a heavy-duty mountain bike, but whatever's in between) that's suitable for a somewhat wee (5'4") person, please let me know.
Every day at work there's a new odor. Today it was sharp and chemically, I'm assuming from the cleaning stuff they used while vacuuming the lake from the carpeting near the kitchen. I can't smell it anymore, though. I'm pretty sure those scent receptors are now lost and gone forever. Bye bye.
I made it to the gym this morning, which is a not-so-small victory. A quick sprint on the treadmill, 15 minutes of crunchcrunch, 7 fast miles on the bike, lots of weights and stretching. I need a nap. (I guess I can do that at work?)
I love the second song on the new Flaming Lips. The Princey squeals and gasps and screams made me smile this morning. I love the first song too. (Yeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeahyeah...) OK, the whole thing is pretty great. And so is the new Calexico. And all the new stuff I bought last night. Music music music.
I need a bigger iPod.
Talked to the poops the other night, after playing phone tag for weeks and weeks. She's in northern Idaho working on her summer internship, jumpstarting the social responsibility program for a bigbig company. ("It's a really beautiful part of the country. I would totally live here, except, well, it's northern Idaho." "Hmm, yes, minor detail...") We caught up, I filled her in on my foibles and new plans and heartaches and frustrations. One thing I love about her is her ability to cut through the shit like no one else: "Eh, you don't need that kind of baggage anyway." (Which is so true, though it would be nice if someone would help hold mine.)
I'm thinking a lot about the funeral on Saturday. Who I'm going to see there, if I'll drive down alone. Seems like I will. I guess that's OK.
I've decided to stay off the grid for a bit. Just general quietness and, specifically, no IM. It's been distracting me lately, taunting me even, and bringing out my obsessive tendencies. I don't have the energy for that, or for failed communication efforts. I probably would love to hear from you, though. (And if I've talked to you or attempted to recently, I almost definitely do.) So, you know where to find me if you want to.
Things I need to do:
Get my car inspected and its oil changed.
Get my hair cut. (And decide whether to keep it long? Cut it short? Dye it pink? Suggestions welcome.)
Get some goddamn work done, so I can figure out the schedule for this book, so I can then figure out whether I can take a trip to California at the end of this month.
Stop buying Us Weekly.
Update my resume.
Just get the tattoo already that I've been thinking about for years.
Remember to take my vitamins in the morning.
Remove the basket of Easter candy from the table next to my bed.
Make an acupuncture apointment.
Call a couple of far-flung friends.
Call my parents.
Try to adjust my feelings to align with reality.
Try to be more of a grownup about these shifting realities.
Remember not to be so hard on myself.
Tonight I bought the new Built to Spill and The Creek Drank the Cradle by Iron & Wine. Both are a little poignant for me at the moment, but I guess that's OK.
Our exchange today made me sad and anxious at first. Made me cry a little bit. But I was happy to share something with you that was relatively uncomplicated, that didn't carry too much emotional weight. They were good wishes, not much more or less. And I think maybe it made you happy too. You're welcome. I wish I could share the day with you. Thinking about that makes me feel a little empty, but not overwhelmingly so. I hope I can hold onto these feelings for a while.
I have a list of people I need to call, which I guess I've been putting off. I feel all talked out at the moment. But I'll call you soon. (Or, hey, you could beat me to it and call me first.)
I'm looking for some direction now, some goals. I need to figure out some adventures and projects that will make me happy, that I can make happen on my own. Something I'm in control of, and don't have to depend on someone else's cooperation for. Not that I've lost faith in others; I just can't depend on them to help make me happy. There are too many variables.
When I got home from work today, I saw that the only mail I got was a catalog and an overdue parking ticket reminder. This made me sad, and a little annoyed, so I started thinking about what I would like to get in the mail:
And so on. See, Mr. Postman? There are so many other things to choose from. Why do you hurt me so?
Honey on my cereal.
The color green, particularly that newly budded, springy green.
My zinnia sheets.
French roast coffee with cream and sugar.
That Wonder Woman episode with Martin Mull as a vengeful flute-playing pop star who favors white jumpsuits with sparkly rainbows and says things like "Heavy, man."
Tamari almonds.
Wriggly puppies and sleepy kittens.
Beaches, both rocky and sandy.
When my friend the poopyhead calls, first and foremost because I love talking to her, but also because her special ring is a jaunty rendition of "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes."
Good pedicures.
Soft skin and soft kisses.
1. What is one supposed to do when the gay Starbucks guy has an obvious crush on one's boyfriend, and tries to woo him with free coffee (lattes, no less, not just plain old drip)? (I'm affecting a posture of bemused faux-jealousy, but that might change if I start finding coffee grounds in his underwear.)
2. What did the person who found my site searching for "how to make a masturbation device" actually find? (I'm a little scared of the answer to this, actually.)
3. Where is spring, and why is it not here yet? (Slippery little season.)
You know you've gotten pretty comfortable with someone when you can talk to them about your bathroom experience the morning after eating some damn spicy chili.
My dream last night was a lot like a game of Chutes and Ladders, except it involved ski trails and escalators, and I was walking up the ski trails and riding down the escalators. Feel free to offer your analysis--I haven't quite wrapped my head around it yet.
My local coffee place finally reopened on Sunday, after closing down for a few weeks after an SUV plowed into their front window. Chris and I were their first and second grand reopening customers. We didn't get balloons or free coffee or anything to mark the occasion, but we did get an enthusiastic "Hey! You're our first customers!" greeting from the owner. And they even remembered my name. Shiny!
Last week, I watched all of the Firefly episodes (perhaps evidenced by the Firefly slang in the previous paragraph). I loved them, LOVED them, and, though I'm glad I watched them finally, I'm sad there are no more. I also watched the movie last night (after having it imprinted on my subconscious through multiple sleep-viewings), and now there's really and truly no more to watch. Boooo.
It's fucking freezing out. Come to me quickly, soggy and slightly warmer spring. I need your yellow forsythias and grey pussywillows and chartreuse budding leaves, toute de suite.
Just like on Jeopardy!, sometimes I get lazy and want to include snippets of random things that lack a cohesive theme. It's better than nothing, no?
Every professional field has its own lingo, not just lawyers and doctors and whatever else. Here's an excerpt from an email I just sent:
"...please move the Intro over to the verso (get rid of the color screen) and place the Ack.s on the facing recto..."
(OK, maybe that's not all lingo. Maybe some of it is my own pidgin book-ese. Whatever.)
I've been going to the gym in the mornings lately for some running and weights and Power Abs (grrr! Power! Abs!), and so I've been watching the various news shows they have up on the TV screens. I am not a news-on-TV lover (or even liker; actually, I'm definitely a hater), but if Katie Couric happens to be in my line of sight, so be it. They always have the captions on, and these are always inaccurate, which can lead to hilarity. Today, there was a story about two men who escaped from prison: "...if captured, the Fudge Fives...".
The FUDGE FIVES! Instead of FUGITIVES! (I'm guessing that's what they meant, anyway.) I almost fell off of the elliptical machine. Holy crap, that was funny.
I was at Newbury Comics last night (home of a decent selection of music, but mostly home of Napoleon Dynamite gewgaws and other novelty crap), and I saw a product called "Candy G-String." See, it's just like a candy necklace, like you used to get in your birthday party loot bags when you were 8, or like those funny people with the pink hair who kept trying to rub you and lick you gave you at that party that time, but you wear it around your pink bits instead of around your neck. Isn't that CLEVER? Isn't that SEXY? Won't that totally give you a YEAST INFECTION? In case you don't want pink sugar goo stuck in your crotch-crevices, they also had a Candy Bra, which might be kind of cute, but probably only if you're an A-cup or have rigid "enhanced" tits like the ones on the box shot's model.
Also, I had the thought yesterday while riding the Porter Square T station elevator that a lot of people wear ugly, ill-fitting pants. But now I'm thinking about all of my pants, and how they don't really fit me, and maybe they're ugly too and I just don't know it?
Closing thought: I should buy some new pants. CANDY PANTS!
I feel like I want to write something, but I'm not really up to crafting anything intricate, insightful, or even coherent today, so here is the lazy way out: a list of fun facts! Fun, I tell you! THEY ARE FUN.