Monday, May 31, 2010

Title numero dos.

It is perfect road trip weather today. On the way back from the bank this afternoon I listened to one of the cds I made Larry eight hundred years ago and then never mailed, and I listened to it as loudly as I could without my speakers spazzing out, and I sang along and made up choreography as I hurtled forward along Huguenot road, and it just about killed me to head home and not just drive on forever enveloped in college-loved rock music and 98 degree summer air. I almost died.

Have any of you ever read style rookie? A natural phenomenon on legs. A prodigy. Tavi's in eighth grade and she writes about fashion and life with such style and smoothness and flat-out unbelievable talent that I follow her blog, even though, as I said, she writes about fashion. I really could give a crap about fashion. But she is truly brilliant and you should just give her a try.

At the moment I'm trying to do some playlist work--remake those cds I did for Larry way back in prehistoric times on another computer, and burn a long-overdue birthday mix for that one girl I hang out with a lot. I got up to talk to my dad for a second and I knocked down the French press I picked up for Camp earlier this year. It was glass. I am a little annoyed. The cd stuff is going well though. Now if only I can maintain my focus and get it done despite Mom and Chloe wanting my help with packing Chloe's birthday/memorial day picnic cooler. Multitasking practice, go.

A title.

I need to be making boursin cheese instead of wasting time online. I am a bad person. BUT I did help Cynthia jump her car just now, so I feel like that balances it out a little. But that wasn't the point of this post. This was:

Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz fans, meet the new awesomeness:

Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World Official Trailer from Lucas Siegel on Vimeo.
I miss having someone I can text anything to at any hour for any reason. And I miss having someone I can talk about my day with. And I miss having someone I can love.

I know I've been chasing and laughing and being ridiculous, and that's fun and distracting and all and it's not lies and most of the time I'm ok, but all this is still here too, sharing the same space. Yes. So it would seem.

It is 1:15 am and David, here is what I want, so much.

I am thinking this sad moment is a product of another moment earlier today in the car when I had the sudden feeling that maybe I was okay not being with David. My mind and heart so long resisted the vulnerability of falling in love. Now it looks like I'm resisting the opposite action in the same manner.
I feel like going to bed but I don't feel like it. Possibly this has to do with the fact that I love sleeping but can never fricking fall asleep anymore. But on the plus side, I found my benadryl today. I hate to misuse the stuff but as I said, I can never fricking fall asleep lately.

I did go to church with my parents today, but didn't talk to the woman about the apartments. I'm not sure whether she was there. I did sort of bond a little though with the mother of a kid Chloe acted with, which is a suppose a little odd. Our two families talked for a while though after the service was over, and that woman is hilarious. Unfortunately though I was sort of reaffirmed in the idea that the church in which I grew up is not really the church I want to be attending. That makes me sad because it means a lot to my dad, and I know a lot of people there (obviously), and going there would be so much more convenient than looking around for another church. But that's life.

The strawberry picking outing was a success, though it was really more like strawberry gleaning than picking. Have you ever experienced that horrible phenomenon of the siren strawberry call? There you are in your chosen row, bent down, berry basket grasped in one hand, the other hand deep in the sweet, green leaves. You drop a clutch of red heaven into your basket. You straighten, stand, gaze out across the strawberry fields. There. There it is. The shiniest, reddest, roundest, most beautiful strawberry ever born. You bound across the rows, filled with joy. You stop. Bend. Grasp. Lift.

The back side is rotten.

That was pretty much the story of today, only for the most part the bushes were scrawny, and almost all the strawberries were past their prime or rotten. I did manage to nearly fill my basket though. Also, there was a man from Turkey (via Russia) with his family! So I got to talk ESL stuff for a little while with a genuine ESL learner. Technically not ESL though I guess, as English is more like his fourth or fifth language, not his second. But still. Good times.

Back at the take-your-money building we found that they were selling cider slushies. Why have I never heard of these before? This is the best idea ever, ever. Ever. It was hot as all get-out today. Chloe got peach. I got apple. It was so good. I can't even find words to describe such gustatory beauty and wonder. Cider slushies.

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Should I start titling these again? Any opinions?

Two other things. First, I want you all to know that there is an invisible fish in the digital fish tank to the right. Or, if you prefer, there is a fish that is the same color as the background. Sometimes you can see him swim over another fish if you look closely. This would be an excellent use of your time.

Secondly, on the way home from Food Lion I was thinking about advertising on facebook for a rehearsal dinner date--an advertisement with a specific candidate in mind. I'd have to clear it with Susannah first, but probably I'll just hold on to that sliver of my pride. Maybe.

Relatedly, operation Fly Casual a.k.a. become-friends-with-Inigo is progressing slowly, if at all. Such a shame. Inigo, if you are reading this, I promise I'm not a total creep. I just like getting to know new people and you, acquaintance-type person, seem cool and were lucky/unlucky enough to attract my attention. Are you busy next Saturday? Just wondering...

And now, on to Wal-Mart. I lead such a glamorous life.
I was finally ready to do laundry, now that I've almost completely run out of clothes. I threw everything in a laundry basket. I carried it downstairs. I loaded the washer. I realized we have no laundry detergent.

This is why I recognize most of the people who work the night shift at our Wal-Mart.

Next topic: Susannah is getting married in eight days. How in the world is that possible? That means that we're setting up for the rehearsal dinner this week, and that the actual rehearsal dinner is in seven days. Next week, the first one of my best friends will be a married woman. Unbelievable.

She asked me to give a toast at the reception, which is really an honor and also sort of scary. I need to get on that.

Also, I need some monies. This is an issue. Camp, start. Ready go. My mother did tell me today about a woman who goes to our church that's looking for someone to manage an apartment complex nearby. I don't really know what's involved with managing an apartment complex, but I'm guessing it has a lot to do with keeping track of money and maintenance and who's renting and when leases are up, and I can totally do that. Omg please hire me. Preferably, please hire me in the fall. The fall would be good. So I'm going to try to talk to her at church tomorrow and be extremely charming and personable and become friends and get hired.

By the way, being an apartment manager means having an apartment rent-free. It means dreams coming true.

After talking to apartment woman and making friends and going to church, we'll be heading two hours in some direction to pick strawberries, because tomorrow is Chloe's birthday and for her birthday she wants to pick strawberries in the mountains. Also she told us this morning that she wants that orange cake--the really delicious one that takes three days to make. Man, we are so good at planning birthdays in advance. We should start a party-planning service or something. We would be rich. In lawsuits.

I want to offer my sincerest apologies for the overabundance of italicized words in this post.
I am still tired--I've been having a lot of trouble falling asleep lately, which is stupid--but I'm so glad I got to help Sus and Mike move yesterday. I wish it were feasible for me to go up to DC and help them move in today. I was thinking about this as I failed to fall asleep, and it occurred to me that I love to create order. I know that sounds sort of stupid to anyone who knows me because my stuff is always such a mess, but I think that because there's so much entropy in my head (/heart, emo emo), I like to make order with my hands. Usually this means moving furniture, or in this case consolidating boxes and packing furniture into a truck. I love the puzzle of trying to make things take up as little space as possible. The puzzle of how to keep them from sliding, sort of but not so much.

Relatedly, I need to sharpen my pocket knife. It wasn't really a fan of cutting all that nylon rope.
I was going to write earlier and probably would have written more, but now it is late and I am too tired.

Today I

-swept the driveway
-talked to a stranger about my problems (for free!)
-missed the turn and decided not to go to the bank after all
-talked to Jimmy about my wrist. He said yes, it might be stress fractured. Decided not to go to Patient First.
-spent 4 hours helping Susannah and Mike pack up the Uhaul. They are officially ready to move in! So exciting. I wish I could go help them unpack it all tomorrow, but I'm afraid that if I did I'd be too tired to drive back that night, and Chloe's birthday is Sunday. Plus I don't really have that much money for gas at the moment. But it was really good times. That's the kind of puzzle that I love, love, love.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

The beach with Kelly and Sara and Brian was nice. There were some fish sculptures and more fish in bas-relief along the boardwalk, all of which I liked and none of which I photographed. I burned a little, despite a shiny new bottle of spf 30 Hawaiian Tropic sunscreen. In retrospect, it probably would have helped if I hadn't gotten into the water 15 minutes after applying said sunscreen. It also would have helped if I had ever convinced myself to put more sunscreen on after swimming. Are there really people who do that? I guess there are probably lovey couples who use frequent sunscreen application as an excuse to keep their hands all over each other, but I mean other than them. Is there anyone who doesn't find sunscreen application such a massive pain in the butt? I am trying to recall an occasion upon which I put sunscreen on more than one time, but I'm drawing a blank. I guess that's bad.

Through the storm clouds rolling in tonight the moon looks like a black eye. Like somebody walked up and punched the night sky in the face--that or the night sky got dehydrated and sunburned at the beach* and then passed out in the bathroom, which is how I got my last black eye. That's not very glamorous though, and somewhat less badass, so maybe we should look for another explanation.

*Not today. Several years ago.
Also, I really need to stop badmouthing people and complaining. I can't believe people have been putting up with me. I keep ragging on people--mainly my family--all the time lately, and although I'm almost certain that it's an expression of my frustration with my life at this point, it is completely inappropriate. More importantly, it's really mean. Anyone reading can feel free to pinch me or punch me or get on my case if they hear me complaining about my brother or my mom or my sister or my dad. If they hear me complaining about anyone, of course, but it's most likely to be one of those four.
I had thought I was doing so much better, and maybe I am a little better, but it turns out that I'm still digging shards of David out of my heart. It's like trying to eat rainbow trout, only one hand is throwing away the bones and the other is sneaking them out of the trash can and sticking them in my pocket. I dreamed about him last night. A really sweet, we're-still-together type dream. I can't remember it now though.

I really hate living at home, and yet I'm still here. F you, inertia. I'm 24. I'm supposed to be an adult. Why am I living and acting like a spoiled little kid? I fought with Chloe on the phone, I fought with my dad after I got home. I spent a chunk of the evening curled up in a ball, crying in the dark. I almost wish they'd just kick me out and force my hand.

In brighter news, Kelly and Sara and I are going to the beach tomorrow. It's just occurred to me that my dad might think we're going for the weekend, which is sort of stupid if you ask me. I never said we were going for the weekend, and he never asked me. But thinking back on our fight, aka me getting yelled at for not doing yard work, all his bullshit about me being gone for the weekend makes a lot more sense if he thinks I'm going to be at the beach. Actually I was planning on being here, unless I help Susannah and Mike move into their apartment.

Man, I did a great job getting out of the negativity loop there, didn't I? Let me try again.

Tomorrow we are going to the beach. For the day. To tan and read books and shit. In hopes of not being pasty for the wedding. We will drink Gatorade and eat sandwiches and try not to sunburn, and dammit, we will have fun.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

I forgot to say--I saw the first lightning bug of the season two days ago. And I just used bug spary for the first time this year! Oh, so exciting. Sometimes I forget how much I like the smells of bug spray and sunscreen. Is that weird? And of course the smells of spring--the flowers, the damp dirt, the freshness--are lovely, but I still have such a love of that summer smell of hot, dry dirt.
I am so tired, but I don't want to sleep. Maybe I'm reveling in this alone time, soaking it up like the thirstiest sponge. Aside from sleeping and bathing, I haven't been alone in almost two weeks, and I mean that literally. Two weekends ago I was in class for 18 hours, and then Larry and Ryan arrived before I got home from class on Sunday. They left the following Sunday morning after I went to class, and then Chris arrived before I came home from class. I love all three of those guys, but so much people time takes its toll on an introvert. (Not to mention the fact that I spent the entire week before L and R came trying to recover from seeing David the weekend before.)

So yeah, Chris is heading home tomorrow or Thursday and it's been a really nice visit, but I'm definitely looking forward to recharging. Someday. Maybe it would  help to paint. Maybe it will help to go to the beach with Kelly and Sara, if we can get it together and get there. I would love to lie in the sun and feel the hot sand and hear the waves crash, and stop worrying about what to do and who likes who and where I need to be and who I need to entertain and what I need to keep from thinking about. Sometimes I feel like if I listen to wild water long enough, the sound will wash out my head. And I've got a few wounds that could use a good salt cleansing. So many thanks and praises be to God for the ocean. And for friends. And for girl friends.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

The mystical inner workings of the "unrequited crushes" universe will, I think, never fail to irritate.

Also, it's a good thing that thinking about chasing more than one guy at a time isn't as whorish as actually chasing more than one guy at a time, because if it were my reputation would be decidedly tarnished.

Don't judge me.

And David, stay out of my head.
I seem to have this thing about having things for guys when they're around. And "things for guys" I of course mean in the "I have a thing for you" way, rather than the "here is an object I would like to give to you" way. Cases in point:

I love/loved/whatever David when we were together, and I am fucking wrecked when we are or have recently been together (in close proximity), but then when I'm away from him for a while I'm pretty much okay.

I had forgotten until they arrived, but I've had a thing for Larry pretty much since we met. I mean, we met when we were 9 and 10, but we started talking about five years ago I guess. That's fine when I'm in Va and he's in Arkansas, but when we're staying in the same house it's a little bit of an issue. Unfortunately, or probably fortunately actually, considering my state of heartbreak and our geological proximity, my crush is unrequited.

I am so glad they came though. I mean aside from finally getting that "I've had a thing for you every time I see you forever and you are infuriatingly unreadable" thing off my chest, it was great to see them both.

Um, did I write about this before? Ryan and Larry, Erickson brothers, came to visit last Sunday, and stayed till this Sunday morning. We all sucked at finding stuff to do, for reals. Monday we did...nothing. Tuesday I think we got Thai food and cupcakes and went to the VMFA, and Wednesday went to St John's church downtown. Or the other way around. Thursday we went up to Jimmy and Missy's for caving and baby lamb feeding, and it was during the caving trip that I cranked up the awkwardness. Luckily there was distracting stuff to do, like not smashing into sharp rocks.

And now Chris is here! Want to know what we did today?

Monday, May 24, 2010

Ok I know I haven't written in a long time, but I am still busy/lazy. The week was good and also exhausting. Chris is here now. The end.

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Today, as promised, I spent nine hours in a TESL class. Or, to be completely accurate, it was more like eight hours in class, and one hour searching out, choosing, buying, and consuming lunch.

After class I ended up talking to a woman who works at the Governor's School that my cousin Sara attended. She did reiki on my wrist, and we talked about teaching and children and energy and medicine. As we went our separate ways for the night she told me that I was very interesting, and I thanked her, but a minute later I felt that I didn't deserve the compliment. After all, I don't think I said much of anything to her that was my own original thought. I think she was intrigued by my interest in natural living and my assertion that "modern medicine" is pretty backwards in that it is based entirely on fixing us once we're screwed up, rather than keeping us well in the first place. But those are not my ideas, of course. Those are the ideas I pull off the shelf and drop into my shopping cart as I peruse the grocery store of life. Some I've researched more than others. Some mean more to me than others. Some just "sound right," and I can't back them up with much beyond anecdotal evidence. Do I live all those shiny ideas? Hardly. I steer mostly away from soda and I try not to waste my money and health on m&m's, but I still eat chicken and beef that were raised in ways that, in all honesty, can only be called cruel. I drink out of the plastic water bottles at work. I don't eat particularly well. I don't discipline myself well in terms of sleep and exercise. So did I appreciate being called interesting? Of course. Am I ashamed at the fact that I'm probably not what she thinks I am? Yeah. That too.

Friday, May 14, 2010

Thanks to everyone for thus far not egging my house, even though I whine all the time. I really appreciate it.

Today started out super sucky, with lots and lots of moping. Listening to the AM 910 sports radio personalities talk on and on and freaking on about LeBron James and basketball and even fricking Red Stripe beer (on sports radio? Seriously?) really didn't help. Eventually though I cut out the moping--work is good for that, thank goodness--and had a reasonably enjoyable rest of my last day. I sold $70 worth of grouper! And $68 worth of Canadian salmon. Go me. Bank after work, Patient First after bank, driving fast with the windows down, eyeing men in pickup trucks and on motorcycles, singing with Damien Kulash.

I have decided that I love Patient First. I came in with no appointment, checked in, checked up, got two x-rays, talked to a radiologist, and walked out only 90 minutes older and $20 lighter. Yes. I am a fan. Turns out that my ankle may indeed have been broken last year, but my wrist probably is not. I almost wish it had been the other way around--not that my wrist were broken, but that I had gotten an x-ray for the more serious injury when it was fresh. I hope that my ankle will stop giving me trouble someday, but I'm not holding my breath.

My birthday presents from Sara came in the mail today! Everything I need to make wire jewelry, except talent! Very exciting.

Lastly (so far), I've been making a list of stuff-to-do options for when Larry and Ryan visit, and for when Chris visits, though less so for Chris as he'll be recouping still, and has already been to DC and stuff. L and R on the other hand have never been here, and I doubt they've been to DC or to an Atlantic beach.

List. Feel free to add suggestions. Even if you're one of those sneaky non-noting readers! I could overlook your presence just this once, if you have anything to add. I'm talking to you Johnny, David, Andrew, maybe Inigo, and whoever the heck else is lurking around. Ahem. List:

Mt Vernon

Va Beach
Nags Head

Camp/Jimmy and Missy's
Carter Mountain/berry picking

Pony Pasture
Bell Isle
Canal Walk/Tredegar/Poe Museum

This is Chloe's last day of school at Collegiate, ever. Ever ever. It doesn't even seem possible.

My last day at work too, for a couple of months anyway, but that's not really exciting. But Chloe is finishing!

Thursday, May 13, 2010

What if I start referring to David as You-Know-Who? Like Lord Voldemort*. Get some humor up in this jank.

Anyway, I miss talking to You-Know-Who (possibly, hereafter referred to as YKW, for convenience) all the time. We were exchanging slightly depressing emails recently (I mean, what other kind are we going to exchange at this point?), but now are not. And by that I mean, not today. And I miss them just like I missed the sweet getting-to-know-who-you-are emails I looked for between every class in my dorm room in 2006. And the worst part is that in reality, no matter what I keep trying to tell myself and no matter how hard I wish in my craven little heart, we're probably not going to work out. I want, I don't want. He wants, he doesn't want. And little don't wants equal big doesn't happen, babydoll. Maybe someday I'll figure that out.

*No offense, David. No, seriously. You have very little in common with Lord Voldemort. For starters, you're a muggle.
After a comment from Johnny yesterday, I remembered what this was for.

First, it's a record for me to look back on, because my memory can be pretty ridiculously bad. I'd often rather write things online because, barring some kind of meltdown at the server, an online journal is a lot harder to lose than a notebook. Still, I should get a jump drive. Maybe someday I'll stop just saying that and actually get one.

Second, especially when things are bad, I don't particularly like to talk about my emotions. So what happens is that I say nothing for a while, and then I vomit everything I've been holding back all over some poor bystander. Or I don't say anything and then I get depressed or irrationally angry and flip out on people. And regardless, I don't feel like I can talk to the people who care about me most, because I don't want to upset them. They don't like that. Solution: I write it here. That way nobody has to read it, but anyone who wants to read can do so. And I don't have to talk about it. As an added bonus, anyone who reads anything awkward has the option of pretending they didn't. So everybody's happy. Ish.

Anyway, if this is a record, I guess I should also write when I'm having a decent day. What a concept! Of course, often, nothing interesting happens on interesting days. Like today. Nothing much has happened thus far, but it's been decent. That isn't to say that I haven't been thinking about David about 80% of the time, but I haven't usually been miserable while doing so. So that's good.

My TESL class make-ups start this weekend. I guess I'm glad to finally be getting over with, but I don't feel like going. I'm coming into this group a third of the way through the class, so they'll already know each other and will already have signed up for presentation slots and so on. Also it's exhausting, and Larry and Ryan should be showing up right after the first two days/18 hours of class. But hey! I'll (hopefully) finish with a certification!
David, David, David, David, David. This David thing...

There's a high ropes course I did once, I think at the Rockbridge Young Life camp in high school. At the end you're 50 (100? It was a long time ago) feet up, and they hook you into a swing and drop you off the ledge, and you swing back and forth in a huge crescent until gravity finally holds you at the bottom. That's sort of what this feels like, only the literal swing was significantly more fun.

Tonight it's been raining. It's stopped now actually, and I'm a little annoyed because I'd have fallen asleep more easily an hour ago, hearing the rain, than I will in 30 minutes. But the point is that no one wanted to walk Miley, including me, so we agreed to just let her out for a little while. You know? It's funny the things fatigue will do to your brain.
Strangely, she started barking within about 45 seconds. Yeah, weird, I know. And she didn't even come back when we called her. So unlike her. Mind you, this is after midnight. So I am out in the yard, and then in the street, barefoot in boxers and a t-shirt, stalking the dog. I followed her into a yard across the street that she seemed pretty infatuated with, and stayed quiet and waited and prayed until she finally ran close enough for me to get her. I am so glad she can't see for crap in the dark.
So anyway, it's a good thing I saved myself some time and energy by not walking the dog in the rain. Good times. On the other hand, catching a Jack Russel via mad ninja skills is pretty satisfying.

In other news, Larry called earlier and said that he and Ryan would be leaving tomorrow! So, no one really knows when that means they'll get here, as they plan to take back roads and camp and do whatever they want along the way. But possibly Monday? Ish? And that's cool, though slightly stressful. (They should be here about a week. But we don't really know.) I guess we'll do day trips and parks and maybe head to the beach for a little while.  That is, dear God, please help me make myself actually do entertaining things with my friends, rather than sit around the house in an "I dunno, what do you want to do?" circle.

Mad ninja skills.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

This pretty much sums up the issues I had with the English department. By the way, English majors, generally speaking, can also be described as wannabe philosophy majors. Maybe I should have double majored.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Just roll the bingo basket and pull out a negative emotion, and I'll stick it on my name tag.







Can't I please just check out of here?

Monday, May 10, 2010

For all the doubters out there, a.k.a. Sara, I moved the hell out of that couch, and I did it by myself because nobody else was home, and nobody else in this house really likes moving furniture anyway. Before I moved the couch I brought from RMA though I had to make space for it by loading the other fold out couch (which is smaller, and yet, against all reason, far heavier than the first) onto the hand truck and maneuvering it through the rec room, laundry room, and art studio into a different part of the basement. Then I could unload the tv and armchair from the truck, and then I could unload the second fold out couch from the truck. Unfortunately, it didn't fit through the basement doorway on its feet, and it didn't fit through on its back, so I had to stand it up on its end and inch it through bit by bit without breaking the glass panes in the door. Getting that thing into place was extremely satisfying, and now I can say, whenever it's being moved out and people start complaining about how it doesn't fit through the door, "What's wrong with you guys? I moved this sofa in here by myself with nothing but sweat and magic."

Then I walked the dog. After I shower, I will try out my new ace bandage. Many thanks to my injured wrist for holding out all afternoon.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

Okay, well that was really hard. A little like riding out a hurricane in a treetop.

On the plus side, I always sleep better after sobbing uncontrollably, on the hall floor or elsewhere.

We did go to Dino Land, and that was good. Jr had never been. We got shirts this time. We also saw Iron Man 2, which was decent. David and I actually talked today, which was a good thing. I had been terrified to talk to him honestly, because I was afraid of what I might hear. It wasn't quite as bad as I feared (or else I am lying to myself, which is a possibility). But it still hurts a lot. My mom is pretty much demonizing David for hurting me, despite my best efforts toward explaining that he isn't doing anything deliberately hurtful. My dad is tempted, but is resisting, and remembering that David is a good guy. I'm glad. I wish I could help my mother understand that this just hurts. It isn't because anyone is bad. Sometimes things just have to hurt for a while. I'm sure she knows that, but she's having a lot of trouble applying it to her firstborn.

In other news, I screwed up my wrist while moving the fold-out couch by myself. David had gone to do something for a minute and we didn't know Jr was in the building, so I started moving the couch out of the office and onto the hand truck so it could be moved out of the building. Unfortunately, in standing the thing on its end and trying to get the legs past the door jam, I got my hand and wrist sort of stuck momentarily between the steel door frame and the bottom of the sofa, and came close to breaking it. I had thought this merely a "close call," but an hour or two later I realized that it was actually injured, and now it hurts to twist it at all. Good times.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Froro agenda, in whatever order:

Iron Man at The Alamo
Hanging out (::cough:: drinking) with Upper School CLS's Jim, Rob, Clay, Charlie
Dino Land
Fox's Big Daddy pizza
church (w/Jim or w/Chris and Charlotte)
Glee? I know. It's a problem. Please do not stage an intervention. I can stop whenever I want.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Because David said he hoped that I wouldn't stop writing about him

after he told me he was reading.

Not in a self-centered way of course, but more in an "I want to know what you're honestly thinking" sort of way.

As honest as I can be, anyway, on a blog that I know people I know are reading.

Jr and I are going to RMA this weekend to pick up my couch. This means we'll be staying in the same building as David, and Jr might actually be staying in David's apartment. I'm looking forward to visiting people at RMA, and I am tentatively (with fear and trembling) looking forward to seeing David, but my track record since we broke up hasn't been great. I'm not sure there's been one time that I've seen him since then that I haven't ended up sobbing during or immediately after the visit. I'm not sure there have been more than one or two times that we've talked since then that I haven't cried after (or before) hanging up the phone. Texting seems to be pretty okay, most of the time. The big problem, which becomes bigger in direct proportion to the closeness of our contact (hence texting being relatively okay vs. actual hanging out inducing meltdowns), is that I have a very hard time getting my subconscious mind (and, who am I kidding? Conscious mind too a lot of the time) to accept our not being together. Today I texted, because David occasionally gives/gave me a hard time about being a bad Southerner, "I am eating lima beans of my own free will." David texted back "10 points." It took a lot of doing for me not to text back "Thanks baby."

It's largely that "Thanks baby"-ing, hug-giving, hand-holding, mouth-kissing knee-jerk reaction that gets me into big fucking trouble when I interact with David. I automatically start to react as though we're together, I catch myself, I have to decide whether to go ahead, or attempt to go ahead with whatever I was about to do, and then I implode. Man, it's fantastic.

In other news, this Glee obsession might be getting a little out of hand. That's a complete lie, actually, because it's really not any more out of hand than any other recent obsession, Plants v. Zombies definitely included. Really I'm just wondering whether this will burn out as quickly as most of the others, or whether I'll end up on some teenybopper chat room posting comments like "omg, Puck totally has the best lips of any of the guys on Glee." (He does, by the way.)
As usual, I have forgotten most of what I wanted to say. But the part I remember is that

1. I suddenly realized the other day that I had a dream sometime recently which included the guy who writes a blog I read, and also his wife. Very strange. And sad.

2. I did it. I bought the Glee Soundtrack, Volume 1. The problem came when I realized that there was a fatal flaw in my brilliant plan to load the cd onto my computer while watching Glee on my computer. Perhaps some of you have seen the issue faster than I did: having but one cd/dvd drive in my laptop, it is difficult for my computer (though it is the picture of the Little Laptop That Could) to read a cd and a dvd at the same time.

It's okay, laptop. It's not your fault.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Pet peeve, re: spelling: the depressingly common habit of unintentional phonetic misspellings, such as "soothe" (sooth), or "lose" (loose).

That wasn't why I originally opened the "new post" window, but I am watching Glee and I forgot what I was gonna say.

Part of it was something about how I am thinking about getting other shoes for Susannah's wedding.
Foods that are delicious when paired with pretty much any other foods:

Raw onions
Ranch dressing
Orange juice

Next topic. Here is what I wrote yesterday.

Today has been long.

Did a fair amount of cooking at work, with plans all the while to run straight from the back door of the shop to my bed, and sleep all day.

But my car inspection went out with April, so I went downtown to my uncle's shop instead, and did some hanging around and some driving around and dropping off and picking up.

Kelly called from our house in the midst of all this to say that my birthday present had arrived and she had come to drop it off.

It was Glee, season 1 volume 1! OH MY GOODNESS.

We watched 3 hours of Glee tonight. No big deal.
     I missed dinner at home. So I made two of the veggie burgers (Morningstar, spicy black bean burgers, oh so good) with pepperjack cheese and raw yellow onion (I love raw onion on, um, almost anything. Is that weird?) for my 10 pm dinner. So delicious.

And walked Miley (she was so good), and wrote a letter to David that I might send sometime in the mail, and tried to put this online and email Jr, but my internet has inexplicably stopped working, so I guess it'll all happen tomorrow. [Edit: that would be now.]


*I am winning lots of friends here. I can tell.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

On Life, and Joy.

There was a day when nothing happened,
the children went off to school
without a murmur, remembering
their books, lunches, gloves.
All morning, the baby and I built block stacks
in the squares of light on the floor.
And lunch blended into naptime,
I cleaned out kitchen cupboards,
one of those jobs that never gets done,
then sat in a circle of sunlight
and drank ginger tea,
watched the birds at the feeder
jostle over lunch's little scraps.
A pheasant strutted from the hedgerow,
preened and flashed his jeweled head.
Now a chicken roasts in the pan,
and the children return,
the murmur of their stories dappling the air.
I peel carrots and potatoes without paring my thumb.
We listen together for your wheels on the drive.
Grace before bread.
And at the table, actual conversation,
no bickering or pokes.
And then, the drift into homework.
The baby goes to his cars, drives them
along the sofa's ridges and hills.
Leaning by the counter, we steal a long slow kiss,
tasting of coffee and cream.
The chicken's diminished to skin & skeleton,
the moon to a comma, a sliver of white,
but this has been a day of grace
in the dead of winter,
the hard cold knuckle of the year,
a day that unwrapped itself
like an unexpected gift,
and the stars turn on,
order themselves
into the winter night.

("Ordinary Life," by Barbara Crooker)

Two caught on film who hurtle
from the eighty-second floor,
choosing between a fireball
and to jump holding hands,

aren't us. I wake beside you,
stretch, scratch, taste the air,
the incredible joy of coffee
and the morning light.

Alive, we open eyelids
on our pitiful share of time,
we bubbles rising and bursting
in a boiling pot.

("September Twelfth, 2001," by X.J. Kennedy)

They tell me I am going to die.
Why don't I seem to care?
My cup is full. Let it spill.
("My Cup," by Robert Friend)
Okay, let's just allow one small moment of emo-ness: I woke up this morning and spent a whole bunch of time silently moping to myself about how what I really would have wanted for my birthday would be for none of this sadness to have happened between me and David, and to have been able to spend today with him.

I am sorry to keep talking about it. It isn't as though my every waking moment is absorbed with it. But it's still an issue.


Today has been pretty nice thus far. After dragging myself out of bed, I came out into the dining room to find that my mom had picked a vase of wildflowers for me, and decorated "the birthday chair" for me as well. We talked while I ate breakfast and then I went to church, and she stayed back to get lunch ready because Chloe would have to leave again shortly after coming home.

Church (Northstar, for those who know what I am talking about) was nice--one of those where Theresa talked more about neurochemistry and learning to live in community than she talked about God, though she still always speaks through a God-lens. But then, of course, after everything was over I started to help put chairs back (they use folding chairs on Sundays), and I rediscovered that men do not like to let women put folding chairs away. I know they're trying to be polite or do the right thing or whatever, but it is really difficult for me not to get angry when this happens. I stand, I pick up about three folding chairs (the number that my hands are big enough to comfortably hold), and I walk over to the trolley that holds the folding chairs. There are almost always a bunch of people around it, so I wait for a space to open. While I'm waiting, almost inevitably, some guy comes up and offers to take the chairs from me. If I can (i.e. if he gives me a chance), I tell him that I'm fine and I do not need his help. Unfortunately, as soon as I get him to go away, some other guy comes up and literally grabs the chairs that I am holding. LOOK. I am not standing here because I want you to take these. I am standing here because I am waiting for you to get out of the way so I can put these away and grab some more.
So I relinquish the chairs. I go get some more. This time I am only able to pick up two before another guy (or the same one? I didn't look in their faces because I probably would have had a hard time not looking murderous) takes (again, not offers to take, but grabs) the chairs I am collecting. This happens one more time before I just let the last guy grab the one chair from me, and walk out without even glancing at him and without looking back. I could not handle it any more. I mean, really--would I be picking up chairs if I didn't want to help put them away? In case that question is a difficult one, let me help answer it: NO. No, I would not. I would be having a conversation with someone, or I could be gone. I don't walk up to you, Well-Intentioned-Christian-Man, and take your chairs, do I? No, I do not, because that would be belittling and rude. So why is it alright for you to do it to me? This skirt doesn't diminish my ability to lift ten--of even fifteen or twenty!--pounds of plastic and aluminum. Really, I am okay. No, really, if you try to take this out of my hands again, I might accidentally beat you with it.

No big deal.

At home we watched some old movie on TCM (it was fine, but I am really looking forward to the day that I never have to hear about that channel again) and ate a lunch of steak and pasta and vegetables. Our oven is broken, so apparently Mom mixed up a cake here last night and sent it with Jack back to his apartment, where he baked it. So nice! Coconut cake, with coconut frosting and shavings. I took some (read: a lot of) pictures. I forgot to tell my parents or siblings what I wanted for my birthday, so my dad bought me some books, which look pretty good.

I think in a little while my mom and I will go to the museum, as this is its grand re-opening weekend, and then on to Chloe's concert at 4. I am glad to go hear her sing, but selfishly I wish the concert weren't today. I really just want to paint, or sculpt, as I said last night. But I'm sure it will be nice.

And then maybe afterwards I can paint! Or do state taxes because they're due tomorrow! Yesss.
Aaaand I am 24! Happy birthday to me!

For some reason this year I am suddenly very excited about my birthday, but at the same time I don't really have any plans. This is upsetting to me--more so than is probably normal and more so than I'd like to admit to myself. I just am bad at planning things, at knowing what I want, etc. It doesn't help that (no guilt trips here, I promise) most of the people I'd most like to spend my birthday with are unavailable to me. It happens, I guess. But Kelly and Jr and I took the dogs to the park today, and that was fun. I'm hoping not to wake up covered in poison ivy--but at least if I did, I feel like Sara and I would be sort of even. Jellowjackets and poison ivy are comparable, right?

I caught a frog today--first of the season.
I heard a cicada yesterday--same deal.
Tonight we have the exhaust fan on, for the first time this year. I get excited about these kinds of things. Happy. Happy about anything that means that summer is coming again. (Everything, that is, except ticks and poison ivy.)

I was writing the other day, and posted it somewhere else, about how I want to make paint, and paint my face and my body. But for what? To do what? To go where? I don't know, and I don't know why. I just do. I just want colors all over me. I want colors all over everything, and I want to sculpt some stuff. This is a thought that has just come into my mind, so please excuse the unformed (no pun intended) nature of the idea. Just stuff. Clay, paper mache, wire, I don't know. I want to take things in my hands that don't look like much of anything, and then I want to bend and roll and squeeze and mold them until, possibly, they do look like things. I need to do something with my hands.