Toygers and other dreams

In honor of all the many people who get here thanks to my archived picture of a liger (prized for their skills in magic), I am posting a picture of a toyger. Yes, a toyger. These are cats that are being bred to look more and more like tigers, but they won't eat you. They might try (as Cassie proves by gnawing on my arm to wake me up in the morning), but they will have cat-sized jaws and claws. It's a little strange. But hey. Whatever you want to spend your time doing is fine with me.

My mind apparently decided last night that my top-choice school, on which I've given up since I REALLY doubt I'm getting funding and therefore can't afford it, was secretly Hogwarts. And Teddy Hall at Oxford, all in one. And a girl with whom I was friends in high school but haven't seen since opted to go somewhere else so that I could have her funding and her room. Rather nice of her, I thought. It would have been glorious and made me a bit sad. Then I decided to go on Facebook and see if I could find this old friend and, in the process, noticed how many people from my year are now married. That depresses me, mainly because I feel it is somewhat of a sign that they didn't ever really leave my hometown. Which if they are happy, who am I to judge? It's just not the life I would every choose...

Shifting Sand

That's it. I'm moving to Mauritania.

I have other, non-funny thoughts running around my head right now. How can I not? I mean, I looked at going to Virginia Tech for grad school. Besides, everyone who has been to college, particularly college in a college town, remembers what it was like. Remembers feeling like the campus was its own little island. Things on the island might hurt you. You might get sick from drinking or date raped by another student. But nothing like this. The worst things that should happen to you in the classroom are boredom and doing badly on a test or essay.

This all has made me think about some things. 1. The press. For the love of all that is good, leave these poor students alone. I see them on the Today Show, and all of them that I've seen who were actually on campus have this dazed, shocked look about them. The various hosts try to get them to talk about their experiences, their dead friends, their feelings about returning to class and how they're going to recover from this. And I want to scream with frustration. I understand that everyone wants information and wants to understand what is going on and how this could happen. But these kids don't need this from us. They had a girl on today who was a freshman at Columbine when that happened, one of the people in the cafeteria who luckily managed to escape. (This poor, poor girl) And that is what she said. She said that everyone needs to be able to get together, to support each other, to work through what they are going through. Without the press. Without having people ask them for interviews, without having lots of questions asked. And the whole naming the one student as the "hero" of the whole thing. Listen, I think what he did was great. God only knows what I would do in the same situation. But first of all, he was acting to save his own life. Yes, he saved lots of other lives by doing so. And what does that say about all the other people? I mean, there were other people who acted calmly and figured out how to protect themselves and others. What about the guy who blocked the door with his foot, and then, later, ran around doing first aide on the people whom he could help? I'm sure there are others. And what does calling this one guy a hero mean for all the other people, the people who didn't act as quickly?

2. What a strange world the millenials have grown up in. I mentioned Columbine, now this, September 11. I wonder if any of us can really feel safe anywhere. Not that we all think something is going to happen all the time. But I know I personally am not surprised when it does. Shocked, yes, saddened, yes. But surprised? I feel as though I am constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to attack the metro, for a plane to crash with me on it. For the earth to flood or a hurricane to blow away California. There are places that I think should be safe. But when I hear proof that they aren't, a part of me just sighs. I think I'll be more surprised if I die without anything tragic happening to me, like of old age or something.

Ant and Grasshopper

I feel like everything in my life is up in the air right now. I'm okay with it... For a little while. The whole thing with SB has really forced me to realize that no matter what happens, I need to make sure that I have a life and support system outside of him here. Which I've known for a while, but it just has been easier to not put myself out there, not try to claw my way into groups. So I went out with CW and her friends on Saturday. One of whom I liked muchly and is going to send me information on her choir, which she says is made up of fun people in their 20's and 30's. I also may have had my first random guy drink-buying experience, as I think a Rastafarian may have bought me a mojito. Then yesterday, I drug myself out in the rain to a meet-up book club.

As for what it actually going on with SB, it's still all confused. We're together, but he's still thinking and everything is rather fragile. I bought a book that he's been assigned to read; he's started it, and thinks it's helping. Also helping is me being sickeningly sappy. It's not sickening to me, though I think it might be a bit much for him. Not that he doesn't love it, because he totally does, but because he doesn't trust that it's real. I'm also going to have to really work on some annoying, frustrating habits. I just hope that he realizes soon that a lot of what he's feeling is frustration and hurt, feelings that can be very much overcome. Or at least that's what I think he's feeling... My prediction, though, is that if we survive this, it won't be incredibly long until we get engaged. Not like weeks or anything, but months. I, of course, can't tell him that because it puts pressure on him. And the whole no pressure thing is KILLING me. Last week, I felt like it was going to start hurting me. But no. The real problem is that I can't keep my mouth shut. You real-life people know that. If I have an opinion, then I feel the great need to say it. I also hate treading water. I see the problems, I think I know what to do, I'm ready to plunge in. Chomping at the bit and whatnot. But that's not SB. That's not him at all. He's cautious and wary and slow-moving. I bounce around, quickly changing direction, and he plods on, working and trying to figure out the best way. So I have to step back, shut up, and let him know how I feel without pushing him to decide things. Yeah, I might need to go buy some ducktape or something to help...

Questions

I was reading online about the whole Imus thing. Looking through the comment on Al Roker's blog in particular made me feel a bit sad. You could tell which of the commenters were white or black for the most part, and I wish our country wasn't that polarized. And I can't say that I'm free from that. Several of the comments pointed out that racism against white people by black people is not commented on, and I agree with that. I'm not saying that white people have to deal with racism on a constant basis or at as high a level as many black people. I know that's not true. That, however, does not mean that a black person has the right to make derogatory comments based on my race either. I think our society feels that white people can't call black people on their racism because of our history. And I think that harms everyone. We should be able to have an open dialogue about race. I wish we could free ourselves from the fear and distaste of people who are different than ourselves.

Other comments also called Al a hypocrite for not talking about the black community's use of many offensive terms. That bothers me, too. Not that Al didn't mention it; I mean, after all, it's only one small blog and he was only dealing with one issue. But why is it okay for a public persona to call a woman a 'ho'? Why are we okay with allowing over half of the public to be derided and treated with disrespect on a regular basis? Why did making a public smear about someone's sexual activity get to be a commonly accepted insult? I'm not saying this is a new phenomenon, but shouldn't we at least try to change it? What does it say about our society, our culture? What impact does it have on the identities of women everywhere to hear other women constantly being defined by sex?

A Light and Faith

I think we are going to be okay. I know, that seems a 180 turn from yesterday, and it really is, but I think it's true. I mean, I felt horrible yesterday. It was just awful. I kept thinking about whether we're supposed to be together and trying to pray about it, but all I got was pain and confusion. I even thought about not going to the Maundy Thursday service, because I figured I'd have a hard time not crying through the whole thing. But I figured it was better to distract myself, so I went. And I did almost cry during the warm-up for the choir. But then the strangest thing happened. (Warning: God stuff ahead) We went into the sanctuary and all of a sudden, I was so full of peace and calm. I prayed, and got a strong answer (YES) and a bit of a reprimand. After the service, I skipped the rest of our rehearsal and went to see SB. We cuddled and talked and he feels better about things now. He still wants time to think things through, and I understand that.

Because, see, the reprimand was about how I've been acting. I've not been a very good girlfriend for a while. I don't feel entirely guilty about this; I was going through a lot of stuff, growing pains, having a shitty job, trying to balance myself. I had to focus on me for a while. It's been a long while, but... SB took the brunt of this. I was willing to admit my responsibility for our problems, but not willing to take any action to help. The whole weight of fixing everything fell on him. And that's not good. Or fair. He dealt with everything, my mood swings, my irrationality. It was really hard on him. But now I'm through that. I'm not saying that I'm all grown up now. But I am infinitely better than I was. And I'm strong enough again to stand up and be a partner in all of this. This has been a whole wake-up call that I need to put on my big girl panties and own up to my responsibility. He still has to think about things, because it's been a long time since I've been able to do that. He has to take a risk in trusting that I actually can. I think he will. The thought that he won't makes me nervous, but I have faith.

Update

Okay, he just emailed me and things are looking less bleak...

A Sad Haiku

My heart is breaking.
He needs to think about
Us. I'm dying inside.

SB told me last night that he thinks we should break up. And not for any reason that I can be mad at or hate him for. But because he thinks I deserve better and that we might be on different paths. I asked him to give us one more chance, that I should be the one to make that decision. He said that he needs to think about it over the weekend and we'll talk on Sunday. I didn't sleep last night, I'm constantly close to tears, and I'm trying to figure out what I can do and what I did wrong. And I'm cursing my naivety years ago when I thought having a broken heart couldn't possibly be worse than being constantly alone. I don't really want to talk about it any more right now, but if we do officially break up on Sunday, I can almost guarantee this blog will not be updated much for a while.

Living with (and without) Fear

SB and I watched Stranger Than Fiction last night. It was such a good movie. I can't quite state why I liked it so much, besides that it was funny and dealt with literature. It did encapsulate something I think most book lovers feel, which is that the characters in the books we read are real. Not that we think they are, but characters in a good book have to come alive for you. Otherwise, why do you keep reading?

The movie also made me feel like I should immediately quit my job and just do what I want to for a while. Travel, really. That's what I'd do. Go horseback riding in Greece, drink wine in a villa in Italy, participate in a tea ceremony in Japan, see the Pyramids and the Great Wall of China and Masada... Experience things beyond what I currently know, stretch my mind. After all, I'm going to be going into debt anyways... Why not start a few months early? I know deep down that I'm entirely too practical to do such a thing, but I think that is part of the appeal. It would be so scary for me, but being scared is a good thing. Stretches you and makes you stronger.

Which reminds me. I'm totally making "Stand" by Rascal Flatts my theme song for a while.

Online networking

I've decided that I'm not very good at the social networking site thing. I don't go on them that often, I don' t think they're that interesting, and I don't friend every person I vaguely recognize. I could, but then I think, "I haven't seen this person since 6th grade. Why do I want to go through the trouble of friending them?" Not that I turn them down if they friend me, though some of them I wonder about. I mean, if we weren't ever friends, then why are you friending me but to increase your numbers? Don't tell me that you actually care about what is going on in my life... Unless I'm judging because I don't really care about what's going on in their lives. Maybe I mean more to them than they do to me. But really. It's all about the numbers.

But then I go on and feel bad because I have fewer friends listed than others. I see people on my friends' friend list that I know and I wonder why they didn't friend me, and who friended whom. I know I read entirely too much into it all, and think entirely too much about it. I feel left out of a system that I don't really like that well. I mean, I get excited when I see people I'd been wondering about. I figure it's a good chance to catch up with them. (That happened today. She better friend me back. I want to know what's going on, and how life has been since she got married.) But if I was close to you, I hope that I have your real contact information and can email or call or at least im. It's not like you can really get your friendship back through myspace or facebook. Or maybe some people can. I, however, don't seem to be one of them. So, people, if you really want to get back in touch with me, you're going to have to email me. Otherwise, we'll just occasionally look at each other's pictures (except I don't post any) and move on in our own separate lives.

Food stuff

I was reading an article in Newsweek where a woman talked about losing weight by eating only 1200 calories and walking a mile a day. I don't understand these types of people. First of all, it's hard for me to be impressed by her walking a mile a day on a treadmill. I mean, really. A whole big mile? I know some people don't get out much, and I, living in a city and using public transit, am forced to walk more than most. But still.

Then there is the whole 1200 calories thing. How do people survive on that? I know it's near the bottom range of what the body typically needs. But think about it. One piece of pizza has about 300 calories at least. If you have three pieces of pizza and a soda? That's it. You're done eating for the day. Don't these people enjoy food at all? I mean, I understand the needing to lose weight and to be healthy and whatnot. But, still. There's being healthy and there's torturing yourself. How are they not hungry all the time? I mean, you can only eat so much lettuce...

Also, I am so freaking excited. I just found out that there's a Jimmie John's here. WHEE!!!

Death and Taxes

Well, you are getting this rare Sunday update courtesy of the coffee store near me with free wireless and my need to do taxes. Sadly, I didn't bring all the sheets I need to actually file my taxes, so the plan is to go home, get the sheets, and take them to work so I can spend the five minutes necessary to wrap up. Luckily, while I may owe the state taxes (I don't really understand this, as I have one less deduction than I should be able to take), I'm getting a decent amount back from the federal government.

In the life of Emily, something good finally happened. I think it's all due to my haiku dedicated to her. What can I say? My writing inspires good things in the lives of friends. More people should read my blog! You're (but not really you, because you obviously are reading this) missing out on a chance to improve your life by spending mere minutes a day reading this lovely website.

I am mad at my diet, mainly because I lost no weight this week and I did really well this week. I'm just claiming that I gained like 6 pounds of muscle, so I've really lost like 10 pounds (since as we alll know, muscle weighs more than fat and to stay the same while gaining six pounds of muscle, I'd have to lose more fat). I'm claiming this, although I know it's not entirely true, though my legs are getting crazy strong. I have to work on incentives, though. It's kind of a problem when I'm used to food as a reward, and am completely broke. I'm thinking of using my tax return for stuff, but really. What is reward enough to keep me motivated? I'm just not sure... If you have any ideas, let me know.

I'm also now last in my tournament pool. Sigh. Stupid Butler. They were freaking ahead by like 10 just a few minutes before the end of the half. And then they just pooped out. Oh well. At least, as my dad keeps pointing out, I have no money riding on it. And CW's boyfriend is no longer in first. I don't know why I don't want him to win, except that I don't like his bracket name. Oh well. UNC better win today, though, or I have absolutely no chance of not being last. Let's go, Tarheels!

A Haiku

In honor of friend
Emily, who is so cute,
I poked someone on the knee.

Not really, but I will next time I see SB. Other people won't get it.

It was lovely to chat with Emily the other night. It was interesting timing, because that very day, I'd again come to the sad realization that some of my friends from high school are putting a much greater effort to stay in touch with each other than they ever have with me. Some of that, I'm sure, is because I fled from Tennessee just as fast as possible when I graduated from high school. Not from them. I still stayed in touch, I was just six hours away. Otherwise, I mean, I can come up with other reasons. But I don't feel like it. I don't feel like feeling bad about it, either, and I'm not going to. But yes. So chatting with Emily was a nice pick-me-up.

In other news... well, I don't really have any. I had all these ideas over the week about stuff to blog about, but then I didn't have time at work, no internet at home, and now the ideas have all fled. I did learn that apparently Cassie has similar traits to her sister, Callie (neither of us knew the other cat's name when we named them). For example, they both get scared very easily and hiss or growl. SB is using this as a reason to make himself feel better, as Cassie hisses or growls at him frequently, and me rarely. :-) He thinks it's a sign that she doesn't like him. I think it's a sign that she doesn't trust him as much, because he thinks she likes things like being picked up and whirled. I wonder if the two cats remember each other?

Singing Alone on the Train

I was getting on the metro yesterday when something strange happened. For the most part, there is an accepted code of conduct on the metro. Locals sit there, trying not to catch anyone's eye, spacing out and avoiding human contact, unless they know someone on the train with them. In that case, chatting quietly is permissible. Teens frequently chat loudly, rather than quietly, but that's teens for you. Tourists try not to fall over, try to figure out what stop they're at/going to, and talk loudly to the people in their group. Ones who have been to DC try to show off their knowledge.

But yesterday, there was a guy who didn't do any of these things. Instead, he got on, singing along to his music. This was enough to catch my attention. Then he started air drumming and I started wondering if I should move to a less crazy section of the train, particularly as he beat out a fast rhythm on the metal bar. I didn't; instead, I put in my earphones and watched out of the corner of my eye. And by the time he got off, I was a little jealous. Not of air drumming. I have no desire to air drum. But his complete lack of caring. He could care less what we thought of him. He just was happy to be there, happy to be himself. And that has an appeal to me. Maybe in a few years, you'll find me riding around, doing whatever I feel like, singing along to my music.

Amazingly enough, a good week

For a few reasons. First and foremost... I GOT INTO ONE OF MY TOP CHOICES!!!! This is the first school I looked at, the first one I seriously considered. And now. I'm in. "Enthusiastically" in. AND I am being seriously considered for a scholarship, something I had mildly hoped for, but never thought would actually happen. (Not in general, just at this "known to be stingy" school.) I'm really excited. Now I'm just waiting on two more.

Then I got Sims 2 Weather expansion. Yes, I know. It's sad that a game can excite me that much, but it's so fun. They can grow gardens and go ice skating (where they fall on their asses) and play catch and get struck by lightening. It's just splendid.

AND I'm in a March Madness bracket thing with CW and I'm doing well. I have some cracked out picks, but for the most part. I'm tied for third currently. Though Butler has to keep doing well; otherwise, I'm screwed. Yes, it was risky, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. No guts, no glory, and all that.

It makes all the other craziness of this week (such as losing a room for a meeting, getting that room back, finding out that we had to send out a bunch of invites instead of other people...) not quite so bad. And SB is now 29, so I get to make fun of him that much more. :-)

Things that Suck

1. Technology. After having our entire server crash because Microsoft's patch for the early hour change SUCKS, not being able to even be at my computer for most of the afternoon, and having my gym mp3 player suddenly decide to stop reading half of its memory card, technology is not high on my list. Add to that the fact that whomever I was stealing internet from has moved, and now I can't get online at home...

2. Tourists. Yes, I know, everyone here hates tourists. But during the lovely winter months, I had forgotten how truly horrid they are. If any tourists shall read this, don't take it personally. And don't take the metro before 9am. Or at 5:30pm. You clog the system, don't have the requisite balance for any kind of manuevers, clog the aisles, don't have to be there then, and don't really know when or how to get off. You must understand, those of us who aren't tourists have been or are going to be working all day. We just want to get where we are going in peace. You not only make our commutes harder, you remind us that there are people who are currently not working, who are having fun. Please spare all of us the need to beat you with something.

3. Water. I actually like water; however, drinking it means I have to pee entirely too often.

4. Listening to phone conversations that hardly acknowledge you while trying to sleep with a horrendous headache. SB decided to call his best friend last night. And then talked forever. Which is fine, except my having said horrendous headache and only wanting to sleep. Throw in hormones, him not mentioning me on the call, the lack of outrageous compliments from his friend (who usually tells SB to tell me he loves me...), plus the sheer tone of "my life was so much fun before you were in it" and you get what SB got. A not-happy me who says snotty things, acts pathetic (I really didn't feel well...), and then forces you to leave so I can go to bed.

Thorny roses

Every morning, I get up and turn on the TV to watch the Today show while I dress and drink tea and such. Most mornings, I get cheesy stories and mildly informative discussions. Today, however, I got mad. Not at the show itself, but at a school, at society. They brought on three girls. These girls are in high school and performed at an open mic night. These girls used a word the school admin had asked them not to and have been suspended for one day. They haven't served this; the superintendent is reviewing the decision. The word these girls used? Vagina. That's right. Vagina. And not in any negative, derogatory, or dirty way. They just read a paragraph from The Vagina Monologues, and not one of the racy ones. One of the empowering ones. The school's reason for not wanting this word used? There might be young children in the audience, since it was open to anyone who wanted to come.

Are you kidding me?! First of all, there was another act that used "fuck" in their performance. Are they expelled? Nope. But girls who named a freaking body part are. Why is our country so afraid of these organs. Why should we worry if small children hear the medical terminology for their own damn body parts? One of my coworkers pointed out that he could understand the school's reasoning, as people are crazy. Which I get. Yes, parents are nuts. But first of all, The Vagina Monologues was written in part as a commentary about the fact that vagina has, for some reason, become a dirty word. What kind of message does that send women? Your body is dirty and gross and wrong? Yeah, because that's what I would want my daughter to think. I admire these girls for standing up for what they believed. Second of all, the parents who think these things are wrong are teaching their children the most that their bodies are dirty and that sex is evil. Shouldn't school try to at least educate these kids on the basic facts at least? Schools shouldn't be so afraid of complaining parents that they forget their purpose as institutions of education.

This also ties to an on-going argument in the world of children's librarians. Apparently, some librarians are upset because one of the Newbury winners has the word "scrotum" in it. Again, not in any sexual kind of way, but just factual. "The dog licked its scrotum," or something along those lines. And that, apparently, is reason enough for people to not read this book, for them to worry about "age appropriateness." Hello? People? Males have scrota. If the author had said "balls," would anyone be upset?

Both these events make me wonder about the power of words, and what the fear of certain words means. People have to be afraid of these words for a reason. Why do some of us feel that children need to be protected, not from derogatory or cruel words, but scientific, anatomical ones? Is it because using medical terms makes the objects seem more real? But why would that matter? Is it because these are sex body parts? Because, I hate to tell you, sex is necessary for the continuation of the species. These adorable little girls and boys are going to grow up, have sex with their "thingies and hoo-haws," and ensure that our species does not disappear into the night. Keeping children ignorant is not going to prevent this (luckily) and instead will lead to some rebellious and horribly ill-informed teens.

Busyness

It's been weird these past few weeks. I've actually been decently busy at work, enough so I don't get a chance to write or check blogs daily. I can't handle it!! Except I really kind of prefer it, even if I still hate my job. At least this way, the day goes by faster, even though today has been both busy and dragging, so that the remaining minute portion of the day seems as though it will take forever. But it shan't, and then I shall force my way through the winds and the cold and climb the ridiculously large hill and be home with my kitty. And I shall drink my new, "good for your liver" tea and watch tv and wait until SB comes over, hopefully with food. And then we shall watch the glory that is Gilmore Girls.

I did dream about Gilmore Girls last night. I believe I switched from being Lorelai to being a friend of Rori's who was staying with her in a foreign country where everyone spoke English and where I was living in a big house with them. They were all playing video games and I was forced to join them alone, because Rori was upstairs with Logan. There was also a whole part about Cassie being there and getting to go outside and absolutely loving it, which we all know wouldn't really happen because she's a big scaredy cat who frequently growls at people walking down the hall and gets antsy when she hears people upstairs. Needless to say, it was strange.

I also heard from my "ridiculously hard to get into and it will be a complete and utter miracle if I do" school today. As you clearly should have known from the lack of exclamation points and excitement, I didn't get it. Which is what I expected, so it's hard to be disappointed. Especially since I had to lie and say that I wanted a PhD, and I would have to move. Now we have one more "ridiculous" category, one I'll probably get into, but not get funded, and two toss-ups, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed. If I don't get into the last two, I'll be sad. Though at least I do have my back-up school, even if they are poor and can't offer funding for at least the first semester....

Screaming at the top of my range

Well, I was going to write a wrathful and entertaining post about differences in generations, stirred up mostly because of comments from a coworker, but alas. The first half of today I was lethargic and the second half I was busy. Crazy busy. I feel like I've been running around like mad. And I just have the feeling that I'm forgetting something...

My choir director has now thoroughly freaked me out. Primarily because she asked me to sing a descant on our big Palm Sunday piece. For those of you who don't know, a descant is sung by a small group who sings a higher part than the rest of the choir. This part interweaves and accents the other parts. It's more of an icing-on-the-cake part. I've sung descants before without any problem. The problem with this descant is that it is insanely high. As in a C-flat. Again, for none music people, a C-flat is crazy high. Like Mariah Carey high. I'm a mezzo-soprano; I don't do crazy high. However, in the interest of being a good choir member, I told my director that I would try. Emphasis on try. Another interesting aspect to the whole thing is that trying involves vocalization exersizes to strengthen your throat. If I scream as high as I can in my apartment, someone is going to think I'm being murdered. Plus, my poor cat will be traumatized (she's a pansy anyways). And I won't really know how high I'm singing, since I don't have a piano. I did download the piece and I know the high note in "Think of Me" from Phantom of the Opera is a B-flat, so I'll have a general idea of when I'm getting close. The whole thing could wind up being very interesting. AND I think she's going to start making me sing first more. I don't WANT to sing first soprano. I LIKE being a second. It's more fun and challenging and I don't actually like singing high. Sigh. That's what I get for doing a solo this summer. Otherwise, she'd never have known that I can sing...

Idiocy, et al.

I've decided on my new career path. I'm going to be a professional class-taker. Or a graphics design person, except that our graphics design person was talking yesterday about all the desperate resumes they get from starving artists, even though the firm is two people big and has no intention of hiring anyone. I'd rather not be a starving artist. I like my food. :-) Mmm... I had Luna Grill's salmon last night. That salmon is amazing. Though, actually, last night it wasn't quite up to its usual foodgasm status. It was still very good, but not crazy good. I think they didn't give me enough lemon butter caper sauce. Anyways, all this comes from taking a suprisingly entertaining and educational design class on Monday. Twas much fun.

I did find out on Monday that I got into my back-up school. Yay for back-up school goodness!! Now, at least, I'll have SOMEWHERE to go. I remember saying a few months ago that I wasn't worried about getting in places, just getting funded. It's a lot easier to say that when you aren't staring the possibility of not getting in anywhere in the face. Which apparently happened to both of my parents. I mean, they only applied to one school each, but my dad didn't get into med school first go around. Who knew? Certainly not me... Apparently, a year later he got in and kicked everyone else's asses, gradewise. My mom said not getting in, which she blames on her lack of academic commitment in undergrad, is her one regret. Which is not too shabby, seeing as how not having a masters in music didn't seem to slow her down any. She was passionate about practicing in undergrad, though. Apparently, at her senior recital, the graduate professors were asking who she was. My mom's teacher told them, "The girl you turned down for grad school!" I feel there is an implied "dumbasses" at the end of that statement.

SB finally returned from Florida, after what can only be called the returning from Florida hell trip. United has no support from me and I shall try to avoid flying them at all costs from now on. It is one thing to cancel or delay flights for real weather reasons. It is another entirely to be incompetent, lie to your passengers, offer no real customer service, and then blame all that on weather that is happening miles away from the flight route. SB was supposed to get home Saturday at 10:30pm. He got home Monday at 1:10am, and that was only because I found him a cheap ticket on another airline. UNITED had him coming home Wednesday morning. Morons. Anyways, his attitude upon return this time was much more acceptable this time than last time. We shall almost declare him forgiven. He may be completely forgiven upon viewing of my presents.

Holding out hope

I checked on the internets today, and there may be hope for Studio 60!! This excites me, as I have fallen madly in love with this shows and its characters. It's just so good. And they always cancel good shows before they've really had time to get popular. And yes, I know it has been taken off the air. This, according to my sources, though is temporary. They did the same thing with 30 Rock, and both shows should be back some time in April.

I also have fallen in love with the band Girlyman. I saw them with Dar Williams a couple of years ago, and liked them enough to buy the cd. I bought it, but never really listened to it. And then, a week or so ago, I started listening to it and now I'm entirely obsessed. They just have such great harmonies and interplay and... it's just so good! I'm considering going to see them in Vienna (Va, sadly, not Austria). They're having a cd release party. The only problem is that it is right around SB's birthday, and I'm not sure I want to force activities on him on his birthday weekend.

I did just post about Smores on another blog. This was probably a mistake, as it has led to me craving (what else?) smores. I'm not allowed smores... Sigh.

Home Again

Sigh. I'm back at work again and already wishing to be gone. Gone for good! That would be lovely...

So my trip home was nice. I will, in a short few weeks, be the proud owner of perfectly fitting pants and jackets. As long as I don't lose or gain any weight or muscle... I got home and was promptly bitten by my former kitten, who now thoroughly is my mom's. He bit me hard enough to draw blood, nicely on my face so I went around all weekend looking as though I had food on my mouth. Then when I got back to DC, Cassie attacked me, too. Well not as quickly. But she really went after my arm this morning.

The bigger news today is that Lent has started. It's going to be rough. I always hate these first few weeks. I'm giving up dessert, soda, and all non-wine alcohol. I may just cry, as I love dessert and hot chocolate with Baileys. But that's the point. It's a sacrifice. And it'll help make me healthier, so I can't whine too much.

SB is still in Florida. His family goes down to visit his grandparents who winter down there and to see the Daytona. I am SO glad I'm not there, though one of my favorite of his relatives is down there, too. But all they do is eat and shop. And eat some more. And then hang out in the trailer park. Which is fine for them. It makes them happy, whatever. But I want to do more on my vacations. Not that I did much more at home, but going home is a different sort of vacation. My mom did support my need to have dessert before the beginning of Lent, to the extent that the only thing she cooked for dinner on Saturday and Sunday was an apple pie. A frozen apple pie. It was delicious. I also finally saw Wordplay, a highly entertaining documentary about crossword puzzles. I may or may not now be addicted to crossword puzzles, though not to the extent that I would want to compete. And it'd be nice if SOME of the people didn't exactly fit the stereotype.

I also finally saw The Devil Wears Prada. My mom asked me if it made me feel better about my job. I said no, primarily because moments before she had asked me that, I'd been thinking that I'd rather have her job than mine. At least she was going places and meeting people. And her boss had her crazy expectations set out. Here, they just lie in wait and then mug you when you least expect it.

I Hate Them with the Passionate Fires of a Thousand Burning Suns *

This week has been thoroughly shit-tastic. Well, except for Wednesday. Wednesday was a day of glorious calm in the midst of the storm. The eye in the hurricane, if you will.

And what has made this week so horrendous? Primarily working for hypocritical morons who could care less about their employees. Which might make sense if I worked for a large corporation, such as Walmart. But I don't. And it makes me want to scream and jump up and down and perhaps shove them. All not wise, but what I would like to do. Or go on a mad rampage using big words just to prove that I am smarter than they are.

Also, Metro may force me to murder someone. Not anyone in particular, but if anything is going to make me hate someone that much, it will be being shoved into other people's armpits, pushed until I can hardly breathe as if standing outside the train and pushing will make everyone inside a little skinnier and thus enough room for one more person, unable to get out because some people refuse to step outside so others can get out, and late for everything always. I mean, really Metro. We've known for a good long time that there was going to be winter weather this week. And it snows a tenth of an inch in the morning and a whole segment of the blue line goes out? Are you kidding me?? And right when the Federal Government closes, a train breaks down? Weather is only an excuse when it's really bad and unexpected.

Plus, while SB is/was back (he has now left again for Florida to watch people drive really fast in a circle), he also could not manage to stay awake at all. Jet-lag only goes so far as an excuse, so therefore I was not particularly happy with him. He knows this and had better be better when he gets back next weekend. Though Wednesday dinner was lovely and fun and could almost redeem him, except he has decided that I love Bath and Body Works stuff and that therefore means he can get me stuff from there for every present ever. I believe I have squashed this idea now, but still. I like Bath and Body Works, but it's got to be like the most generic present ever and I don't understand why guys don't get that. I'm pushing for diamonds (no, not THAT kind of diamond. A necklace or something.) for my birthday.

Luckily I'm going home where I shall let my parents pamper me. And not worry about the fact that my healthy eating habits have somewhat fallen by the roadside this week, because next Wednesday is Ash Wednesday, and the beginning of Lent, which means no sweets or non-wine alcohol or soda.

*I'm trying not to hate them. I really am. I know that hatred only hurts me. But they're just SO DAMN OBNOXIOUS... [deep breaths, deep breaths]

Call me "Your Majesty"

I went this weekend with some friends to see The Queen. It was good, definitely made me like the British more, definitely made me like the Queen more... I think we could even be friends. After all, I like the subtle British wit, I like walking, I like well-behaved dogs... We'd be set. I was suprised by how nice they were to Charles. His, shall we call it, strangeness still came out, but they didn't emphasis it at all.

The thing that struck me as unusual, though, and made me think was not anything directly from the movie in that it was reality and I remember thinking this at the time Diana died. There was so much outpouring of emotion. Genuine emotion, from people who had no real connection to her. And it wasn't just the British who were captivated by her. It seemed as though everyone was, and then everyone was devestated when she died. One of the people interviewed in the movie (I believe the clip came from news reels at the time) said she just kept hoping that it was all a dream, that she'd wake up and Diana would still be alive. And her death was a shock. But how does one person come to mean so much to so many people? I can't imagine anyone right now, any celebrity, any politician, any do-gooder whose death would have as much of an impact as Diana's did. I can imagine being saddened by a public figure's death, but my life most likely wouldn't be changed. I wouldn't feel heart-rending emotion, I wouldn't spend hours traveling to lay flowers down on a gate. If someone I knew and loved died, I would have that kind of emotion and experience. But for someone I had never met? What did Diana come to represent that meant so much to so many people? The epic underdog? The "real-life Cinderella?" I just don't get it...

You Vipers' Brood

A coworker forwarded the office an article today in the NY Times about early childhood education in Oklahoma. Now, the article was talking about the impact a preschool program for all kids is having on the kids of lower-wage families. Kids in lower-wage families are more likely to not be read to, or paid as much attention to. This winds up leading to the "word gap," the gap between the number of words a child of highly educated/paid parents knows, and a child of lower-income, lower education levels parents. I'm not saying this in any way, shape or form to be critical of these lower-wage parents. Some of them can't read well themselves, and if you are barely able to afford food, how are you going to spend money on a book? I'm not excusing them either. Some parents in that situation find ways to work. They go to the library with their kids, they come home exhausted and read to them. Anyways, I'm just saying it's a complicated issue.

But what made me mad about the whole thing is that apparently churches are lobbying AGAINST the state providing universal pre-k, something that can increase the educational successes of these kids and make them better prepared for life. And why are these churches lobbying against this? Because they don't want to lose the money from their preschool programs. Are you kidding me?! What kind of Christian spirit is that? Here is this program that can help the poor, improve kids' lives, and you are more concerned about making money? No wonder so many people have a negative view of Christianity... Reminds me of the whole money changers thing from the Bible.

Feeling Fruity

So I've been trying to get my company to buy us a fruit bowl in order to encourage health in the workplace. I was just joking; we're tiny, we have the money, but it's not a priority. I also have been trying to get us the little exercise balls for our desks, but that really goes nowhere. Mainly because Pres. would think it is tacky-looking, and we aren't allowed to have anything tacky visible. But yes. So fruit bowl. Our VP came in yesterday and had brought us a kings cake, in honor of Mardi Gras. He was in New Orleans this weekend, so he picked one up. It quickly vanished. I got the baby, which means I should have good luck for the next year, appropriate since I'm the person in the office who needs the most luck. We were teasing VP about the cake, saying he was making us unhealthy. He laughed, but then today announced that he was buying us the fruit of the month club from Harry and Davids. Which is SO nice. I feel like he is partly just a good guy and partly trying to buy us off, but either way, I'm okay with it.

In other exciting, slightly food-related news, only a few more days until SB returns! I was talking to him last night and he was all like, "I miss you..." I, not being in a sappy mood and feeling a bit cranky after he made me call him back (a major effort requiring the dialing like 6 different numbers), was having none of it. "You don't miss me, you miss the food. In fact, I think you're just excited to get back and get Cracker Barrel," I replied. I do this a lot. Let's face it, I love sappiness, but not so much being sappy. This time, however, it backfired. "We don't have to go to Cracker Barrel," he said. "I didn't think we'd go immediately anyways..." Now, people. I have been looking forward to one of their amazing apple dumplings for WEEKS. I have eaten primarily my own food for over a month. And I have had no sweet tea. I want Cracker Barrel, he's flying into Dulles, which means we'll be close to Manassas. I have been planning on this since he first began his list of missed foods (ie week one when he left). I don't care if I have to basically kidnap him, I am getting my dumpling.

The "'Rents" Versus the Real World?

So I was watching The Today Show this morning and they had a report on the newly passed law in Texas requiring all girls of a certain age to get the HPV vaccine. There is a HUGE uproar about this. The two people brought on to be interviewed clearly did not like each other, or respect the other person's viewpoint. Poor Meredith completely lost control. Now the governor of Texas was a bit obnoxious about how he passed the bill, basically ignoring everyone else and just doing it. But I couldn't help but listen to the side against him and wonder what they are so afraid of? They are claiming that the science does not yet support mandatory vaccinations (like six medical groups disagree, including the AMA, the American Pediatric Society, and American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists), it infringes on parental rights, and it might encourage riskier sexual behavior.

First of all, I can see the parental rights argument, but I'm not sure I buy it at all. For one, in the Texas case, the parents can easily opt their kids out. But mainly, my problem stems from the thought that a parent wouldn't want to prevent their daughter from getting cancer. Why would you not want to protect your kid from everything possible? I can't help but wonder if this were a vaccine against leukemia or lung cancer if parents would be so upset. Obviously, there would still be some parents who wanted to opt out for religious reasons. I'm torn, though, about whether or not they should be allowed to. How much right do parents have to completely control their children, to the possible detriment of the children's health? I honestly don't know. Then again, do we really want the government to have all control? Because that seems a little screwy, too. I guess all we can do is strongly encourage people to get their kids vaccinated. Those who don't listen, well, those kids will be helped by the decrease in the number of infections anyways.

Now the whole "this will encourage risky behavior" makes me so mad I want to jump up and down, preferably on the people who are saying this. Are you THAT bad of a parent, is your influence over your child so small that you can't guide them towards safer behavior on your own? Why is this the constant back-up argument for the religious right on sex issues? Why is it so necessary to keep teens in the dark? Now, teens might be foolish, they might take unnecessary risks. But they are going to do that anyways. At least tell them how to protect themselves. Why are we as a society so afraid of the increase of teen-age sex? Studies don't back up this fear; the most recent reliable one showed that the age of loss of virginity and the number of pre-marital partners across society has stayed relatively stable. And say more teens do start having more sex. Will the world end? I doubt it. There might be a few more bitter people at younger ages, but no fire and brimstone. I'm not saying teens should be having sex. I don't think they should. I don't think it's wise and I don't think they are emotionally ready for it and I think it'd be great if everyone waited until they got married. But that's not reality.

Raising teenagers. Or hell. Or both.

Well today is the big day. My office is getting all new computers. Which is exciting in that we'll have newer, faster computers, and not so exciting in that having an outsider here is a little annoying. We knew our old IT guy. He was nice, a part of the extended family. But no... he had to leave to go 'pursue his dream.' Plus he was kind of cute and I could make SB jealous by telling him IT guy was coming. Though the new guy does seem nice. And hopefully he won't look through my internet records and see a. my crazy searches at work and b. how much time I'm doing weird stuff online. Nothing illegal or amoral. Or really weird, actually, since it primarily consists of reading blogs and articles on MSN. I just work better as a multitasker, and I frequently don't have much interesting to do at work. I still do the other stuff. It just bores me so I do other stuff, too.

SB will be back a week from tomorrow. I'm excited, though it'll be a little weird. It's just been me and Cassie for so long! Though she's been getting on my nerves like none other lately... I think she's going through the whole teen-age years for cats. Because she is testing boundaries and pushing her luck. She's going to get locked in the closet to calm down one of these days. She decided to run laps on me this morning at 5:30, then last night wouldn't stop scratching my clothes... see, she likes to knead certain clothes, but with her claws out. I am not such a fan of that. I moved the clothes, she moved. I threw socks at her, she ignored me. She's very good at ignoring me. Then she attacked my foot while I was doing yoga. Very exhausting. It's hard enough to stay balanced, and with little claws and teeth pricking your feet? Nearly impossible. And she keeps trying to climb in my lap while I'm eating so she can have my food. I just want to eat in peace!

Peas + Homelessness=Yummy Goodness

You should all be quite honored. I am... WRITING A BLOG FROM HOME. I know, I know. Control the gasps of surprise. I was even going to post a picture of Cone-y (ie Cassie when she was forced to wear her cone), but the software on my computer is being stupid and I'm too lazy to install my other. Yes, yes. I've had this computer for a year now and I still haven't put all my old software onto it. I also haven't really cleaned up my ipod or figured out all the songs on my mixed cd's. So really. This all should be no surprise.

Anyways, I've been meaning to write about peas for a while. Yes, I said peas. Some of you may be wondering, "Why on Earth would a woman write about peas?" Well, it's actually in honor of Jordan Baker, who recently mentioned the children's series The Borrowers. Now I adored these books. One of my first reading memories is of me curled up next to my mom on her bed, her reading those books to me. There also was some other book that had funny paper and was about some kind of fairy who lived in a flower or something. We started that one like 6 times, but never got through it. Anyways, I love those memories, and I loved those books.

Now the night Jordan Baker got me thinking about old books, I came home and was scrounging for some veggies in my freezer and I came across a bag of frozen peas. I then microwaved them and melted some butter and it was all good. BUT. The combo of the peas and the old books reminded me of yet another favorite childhood series... The Boxcar Children. Some of you may have read The Bobsey Twins or Nancy Drew. None of those for me. No, instead I read The Boxcar Children. These books were great. The story started with four children who were supposed to move in with their mean old grandfather. Rather than do so, they run off and find an old boxcar to live in. They support themselves, doing chores to earn money, stealing from gardens... Basically, every kid's dream. Eventually they are rescued, find out their "horrible grandfather" is actually amazingly kind and rich, and go on to solve many a mystery together. Now, back to peas. I have discussed this with other Boxcar readers and I am not alone in this. One of the BEST parts of the first book? Was the food. I don't know how the kids do it, but they seem to make the most appealing food consisting mainly of vegetables I, at my wise old age of 7 or 8, had ever heard of. It sounded amazing. Which, being older and wiser, I can see was probably a good thing, as it encouraged kids to eat veggies. The author of these books has since passed on, but I hope she knows that every single time I eat a pea, I think of her series.

Also, I just found out that there is a Boxcar museum in Connecticut. It might be totally lame, but I so want to go. Road trip!

Catching Up

I'm very sad about the whole Barbaro thing, so I'm going to ignore it and write on happier topics.

I talked to Emily yesterday. It was funny. It was like the first time in over a year that we've talked, and I'd thought about calling her earlier, like last weekend. But there was the whole general malaise, and I was a bit worried that we wouldn't have anything to talk about. Ha. Um. Our short little call turned into a nearly two hour call. Apparently, I am somewhat responsible for her friend's (Jana? Something like that) addiction to the DC blog scene. J, as I shall call you because I'm pretty sure at least that your name starts with that letter (You may pretend to be from Men In Black if you'd like), please don't judge all of DC by the blogging scene. It's a bit crazed. Which, actually, is like DC and probably an accurate representation of teh populace. But there are some non-crazed people here, such as myself. So don't write us all off. It was also nice to get blogging validation. I kind of waver on what my blog should be, and wind up writing whatever pleases me. I feel my blog may have a bit of an identity crisis at times. But to hear that someone likes it enough to be sucked into the blog scene... Now that just gives me warm fuzzies.

Emily is, of course, doing lovely. We did have a possible insight into the lack of guys who dare to ask girls like us out, and we decided a good portion of it could be our age. See, early to mid-twenties is a time full of self-discovery, and figuring out who you are. A good deal of this involves going through crap where you doubt lots of stuff about yourself. Now, Emily and I and a good portion of my good friends are the type of girls who are strong in and of themselves. We don't need a guy to protect us or tell us what to do or think. We need guys who are as strong as we are, so they can be our partners, and we really won't accept anything else. These types of guys at our age are still figuring out who they are. They can't be strong enough for us yet because they aren't sure how much strength they've got. Now obviously there are exceptions to everything, blah, blah, blah. But the fact is that I think the world of most of my friends and I know that eventually they will all meet people who make them utterly happy and who fit them to a tee. Now I probably won't say that these eventual guys will be worthy of them. But I know that they are out there, being put through the fire, so that they will at least come close.

Plus One

Our society has an issue. Well, several issues, but one that the Today Show and Real Simple yet again brought to my attention. Showing real plus-size women is just anathema in today's media. Which is just ridiculous, especially since Americans are getting bigger and bigger. See, the Today show had a segment on what jeans people should wear to flatter their body types. Real Simple provided the jeans and the models. Their plus-size model can't have been over a size 12. Probably closer to 10. That's not plus-sized. Same with most of the plus-size models out there. Yes, it's great that they have women modeling who are in the double digits of sizes. But if you're a ten, you are not representative of the women who actually are plus-sized. It's like the Lane Bryant models. They cannot be wearing the clothes Lane Bryant makes without those clothes being modified. So, really. What's the point? You have plus-sized store but then show all the women who shop there that they aren't really pretty enough or sexy enough to represent the store? And smaller sizes then become stigmatized as well. So now a size 10-12 is big? What then is normal? 4-6? 2-6? 0-6? That seems like a great trend. Rather than encourage people to be healthy, whatever their body type, let's encourage them to strive to be as tiny as possible. That won't make everyone miserable, I promise...

Sticks and Stones

Apparently, Tijuana police now have a new weapon against crime... slingshots. This article, for those of you interested, describes how the police in Tijuana, a place known for its crime problems, have had their guns taken away and replaced with slingshots. This seems an interesting tactic. Now I'm anti-violence and don't particularly like guns. But this still is a bit odd. Let's take people who are already in danger (13 policemen, 300 people total were killed last year in Tijuana) and give them stones to whirl at people.

Along this same line, the protestors from opposing sides in Lebanon have apparently started throwing rocks at each other. I know the situation in Lebanon is very sad and very serious. And these incidents also involved road blockages, and burning cars. But picture this. Two groups of angry people, seperated by barriers and police, throwing ROCKS at each other across the distance? It's mildly amusing.

Outside of interesting news stories, my life has been pretty slow. I'm finally doing yoga again, with the goal of being ridiculously flexible, and it's actually helped me to sleep. SB being gone has made me much more productive, although it's made going to the gym much harder. My apartment is cleaner, I've been cooking, I've knit some. I'm reading Lolita. I went to see Martha Grimes speak at B&N. He keeps trying to convince himself that Cassie misses him, but I'm not sure that she does. She is sleeping with me at night, which is very cute. She all stretches out against my legs and keeps me warm. Though I think she must be going through yet another mad growth spurt, since she is eating like mad. And getting much more vocal. She begs for EVERYTHING. I look at the kitchen, she runs to the fridge and begs me to open it (She likes to jump in. I'm not particularly fond of that desire...). She begs for and tries to get on the table to eat my food. She begs for me to rehang up her mouse so she can play with it. It's kind of funny, since her begging is more clucking and less of a meow. Sigh. Some blogs have been highly derogatory about cat ladies, but I will freely admit that I love cats. Not enough to clean up after like a zillion of them. But enough to admit that they make me happy.

It's like a car crash

I think blogger may be messing with my mind. I just went to a blog that I know I checked on Friday. Friday, there was no new post. Today, there is one dated last Wednesday. Sigh. I just don't know. Then there is the whole DC blog-war of which I only recently became aware and which I can't figure out, primarily (I think) because a lot of it went down at a blogger happy hour, and I can't find out who one of the main offenders is. Not that I really care that much (not actually knowing any of these people). But it's kind of like a soap opera. And a car crash. You know you shouldn't watch/slow down to look, but you can't seem to drag yourself away.

Sigh. I'm trying not to be mad at SB. Because while I know him being gone isn't entirely his fault, it still kind of is. He did agree to go first, before trying to back out. If he had never agreed in the first place, it would have been a different story. And I TOLD him I wouldn't do well with this whole thing. I told him in a few different ways. He, being foolish, thought, "well, since we'd talked about it, I figured it was all okay." Dumbass. So now my stomach is bothering me, no big surprise since this weekend wasn't exactly full of rainbows and unicorns. (Why unicorns? I don't know. They seem happy. And I watched Dodgeball like three times and there's the scene in Melody's-not her real name, but her name from pre-skankhood and Hey Dude days-apartment with all the unicorns.) I kept thinking, "I should call so-and-so, I haven't talked to her in over a year" but then I would decide that I didn't really want to talk to people. And SB, who promised to text a lot, only sent one text. And there are no emails or phone calls from him on the weekend. So now I'm trying not to be vindictive and refuse to call him tonight.

If I don't call him tonight, though, there will be good reasons. To stave off my thoughts, I'm going to go to a Martha Grimes thing at the B&N near me. Ms Grimes is coming to speak and sign and, while I'm not a huge fan, I did highly enjoy the one book by her that I've read. And she's moderately famous, particularly in the mystery genre (not one I usually frequent, but whatever), and it'll get me out. Plus today's my mom's birthday, so of course I must call and chat. It's all about hte distraction, people.

See, I've decided my whole problem is that I'm too smart. I get bored and need something to think about. So I start analyzing myself. "Picking," as SB would call it, a term I usually find inaccurate unless I actually am trying to make myself cry or something. It's not good to spend hours analyzing yourself. It can make one a bit neurotic. How to avoid it, though, is something I'm still struggling with. I could write it out, yes, but that forces me to come face-to-face with everything in writing. I could read, but at such times, it can be hard to settle my brain down. I can watch tv, but I wind up not really paying attention. It's a dilemma, yes, and un cercle visceaux, one which is best stopped by avoiding it in the first place by doing something. So that is the plan. And if I happen to not have enough time to call SB, well too bad for him. That's what he gets for leaving.

Repressed dreams

I really had the best intentions of updating yesterday. Sadly for the great numbers of you who read this (and by great, I mean like 5), blogger was being a complete and utter pain and I was unable to. That and I was too lazy and tired later on to get back online at home on my stolen internet.

I had a dream a couple of nights about an old crush of mine. It was very bittersweet, a dream in which I knew that the crush and I could have had a good relationship, but I was with SB and I wasn't about to give up what I have with him. I of course told SB about it, since I tend to tell him most things, especially little things that might make him jealous. He, of course, was not thrilled about it. And to be perfectly honest, neither was I. Not because the dream "told" me anything in particular, but because I couldn't understand why this guy would keep resurfacing from my subconcious.

Bit of background info: This guy and I had a pretty decent flirtation going for several months. He, however, never actually asked me out, and I, for a number of personal and psychological reasons, refused to ask him out. Then I met SB, with whom things moved rather quickly, and that was that. Crush later started dating someone else, a girl of whom I was not fond. I always wondered why he could ask her out, but not me.

So, while thinking about my dream the other night, I had an epiphany. See, before SB, I never really dated much. I've been told that I can be intimidating to guys, which both bothers and frustrates me. I mean, really. Give me a break. Yes I am strong and intelligent and like to debate and I definitely don't wear my heart on my sleeve. But I am also funny and sweet and shy and fiercely loyal, some of which comes out after like five minutes of talking to me, and if a guy is so easily intimidated and can't see beyond that, then we probably wouldn't have a great relationship anyways. Knowing that in my head, though, doesn't mean that the lack of dates was not hard on me. As soon as I got upset or depressed or lonely, I started blaming myself, wondering why I wasn't worth the risk of rejection. SB has done his best to rid me of these types of thoughts, but they don't disappear that easily, much to his chagrin. So I think my former crush has come to represent all of those negative feelings and experiences. I don't want to be with anyone but SB, but I want other people to want to be with me.

Fashionistas

I think it's interesting that, for someone who so rarely looks polished and who so rarely looks fashionable, I have a highly developed sense of style. Now that might sound both strange and snotty. It's true, though. I know what I like, I know why I like it, and I can spot what's wrong with an outfit in under a minute. I blame/thank my mother, as a seamstress, and my college roommate for this ability. My college roommate used to challenge me. "What's wrong with that person's outfit?" she'd ask. "They're wearing two different types of plaid, one which is navy-based and the other which is black," I would quickly respond. (Not that anyone couldn't do this. I mean, really. Multiple plaids? How could you miss that?) My mom's teaching was more subtle and less purposeful. Mainly, if I wanted clothes that I liked, I had to learn what I liked and didn't like about how things fit. I blame my current lack of apparent fashion on this. Everything I try on, I think, "Wow. This would look great if the waist was half an inch higher." Or, "Man. This looks like crap. Look at how badly it fits me around the neck. If I'm paying x-amount of dollars for something, I want something that fits me correctly." So in despair, I wear whatever and aim for comfort rather than fashion. And I may or may not still be sabotaging myself. Whatever.

All this fashion-judgment came out with the Golden Globes. There were so few dresses that I didn't think, "Well, if this had been changed, it would be great." Jennifer Lopez's was one of those few. Man, she looked hot. But most... Well, they left something to be desired. And why is it that all strapless dresses look like they are about to fall off? If they were pulled up just one or two more inches, they'd look great. But NO. We have to show as much cleavage as possible, so we double-tape the dresses on and hope for the best. It's nearly as bad as the current "tuck your pants into your boots" craze, only beaten by the coulotte pants and knee-highs. I mean, really. What is the purpose? No one looks good in that combo. It makes you look like your legs are funny lengths. Give it up, people. Accept that the designers are crazy, stop buying so much into fads for the sake of fads, and buy clothes that actually look good on you. Now, if only I could find some that I can afford...

Apologies

Dear guy I may have glared at with hatred on the metro yesterday:

I'm sorry. I don't actually hate you. I know it was just extremely crowded and your hand accidentally got caught in the cord of my headphones. But I just felt someone pulling on my ipod and on my headphones and when the pressure released, although the music kept going, I wondered if maybe my ipod had been pulled out of my pocket and I was going to have to fight the masses in order to bend down and pick it up. Plus I was trying to get out of the way and there was just chaos. But I didn't really hate you, I was more annoyed with the whole situation. And the way you offered your hand to balance me was very sweet.

Sincerely,

Me

For all others, obviously my commute home was not great. I managed to cram onto the first train that pulled up, but then got pushed out at a subsequent stop, which is SO not kosher. Didn't really matter, though, since there was no way I could have made the bus I was trying to catch. Which then meant I would have a really hard time making choir, since I walked in the door at 7 and would have had to feed myself and get out the door by 7:30. Plus SB was going to try and call me and I knew he'd forget that I had choir and I didn't want to miss him. Though his phone didn't work and I wound up having to call him. So I stayed home and watched tv instead. And played with Cassie, which she enjoyed. I enjoy that, since my apartment is now colder, she has started sleeping with me more. She's very warm.

I'm a Big, Fat Liar

I said I was looking forward to him leaving, at least a little bit. I was such a liar. Well, that's not entirely true. I wasn't lying about getting to do all of that stuff. CW and I were commenting that having a significant other enables laziness. You don't really have to work to be around people because you're already around people. There is no need for effort-full socialization; just lie back and be lazy.

Anyways, I do miss SB. He was pretty sweet this weekend, although CW said at least some of it was too sweet. He just got all puppy-eyed on me. See, he had taken FIVE hours to run errands. It's not even like he had a lot of errands. He had to get his hair cut, pay his credit card, and run by his house to pick up the stuff he needed to pack. So he dropped me off at 5. I start playing "The Sims: Open for Business" (which is SOOOOOO fun, btw. I've started an at-home business, which is doing fairly well, although my employees keeping getting mad and quitting). At 8:30, he calls and says he thinks he's about done, so if I want to go ahead and order a pizza, that would probably be a good idea. Knowing him, I wait a bit (until 9) and then order a pizza. I wait for the pizza. The pizza comes. I wash a plate so I'll have a plate to eat off of. I get ready to eat. Finally, about 10, he shows up. He says he was working hard that whole time, and I believe him. I also think I could have been done with the same errands and more in maybe two hours. So I'm a bit peeved, just because the whole fact that he seems to run in his own time zone can be a bit annoying and because I had pictured a rather cuter last night together involving cuddling and drinking wine and being all couple-y. He comes and sits down next to me and is all, "I missed you..." I, refusing to be sweet or sappy, said, "It'll be good practice for the next six weeks." He then, puppy-eyes at the ready, turned to me and said, "I have had entirely too much practice missing you." All together now, "Aww..."

But yes. So he's gone for the next four weeks, back for less than one, and then gone for yet another, and I'm not happy about it.

Somethign else I'm not happy about (in a COMPLETELY random change of topic) is a study that just came out showing that the health benefits of drinking tea are negated by adding milk. Yes, that's right. Drinking tea is good, drinking milk is good, but somehow, put the two together, and it ALL gets cancelled out. Bastards. I like milk in my tea. It's a lovely addition. Maybe I'll just add more wine to get more antioxidants.

A State of Unproductivity

I really have had a thoroughly unproductive day. I had plans to be productive, really, I did. But then I got in to work and half the office wasn't here and I had a bad commute and it's rainy and my brain just melted away. Plus I didn't sleep well last night. In fact, I haven't slept well for the past three nights. I'm fairly tired, I must say. And then last night, I drug my sorry ass to the gym (which was WAY too difficult, btw, and involved another horrific commute) and then promptly developed a sickening headache after dinner. THEN I got home to no note from my apartment building, so I didn't know whether they were definitely cancelling the replacement of my windows (supposed to happen today) due to rain, so I still had to move all my furniture three feet away from said window. That might not seem like a huge deal to those of you in multi-room places, but I live in a studio. A studio, I might add, that is completely packed with furniture. Then the leg of my dresser broke, so SB and I had to take all the drawers out of it, even though several of the drawers seemed desperate to be stuck. Remember the throbbing headache, people.

It was at this point that I may or may not have yelled out, "I hate my life!" When SB asked why, I answered that "EVERYTHING IS ALL FUCKED UP." He then told me I should sit down and he could do it all for me. Which was sweet, but not feasible, as I had a plan in my mind for where the furniture would be most out of the way. I then started a mad rampage about hating 30 Rock. And I don't really hate it. I don't like it. It annoys me that everyone acts like it is such a great show, when the whole premise of it irritates me. But hate it? I mean, actively hate enough for a mad rampage? I don't think so.

Then, when I did attempt to sleep, eye pillow strapped around my head, I couldn't. Cassie kept jumping on and off the bed, I couldn't get comfortable, and my head still hurt. Cassie decided that running around madly at 4 am would be LOADS of fun, particularly the part where she jumps on paper bags to make lots of noise. I had to get up early to ensure that I was dressed by the time the hypothetical window people showed up to take down my blinds. Luckily they didn't, since the building claims that if they take down the blinds on a Friday, the blinds will not be put back up until the following Monday. And again, to those multi-roomed of you, this is a big deal when you have no other room to escape into. I would have to retreat into my bathroom for EVERYTHING, including putting on sweatpants and pj's. My apartment is high enough that random street people couldn't see me; there are, however, many balconies around me and at least one of them belongs to a family with a small child who is prone to wandering out (supervised) in order to enjoy being outside.

So, needless to say, I arrived to work today exhausted and with coffee in hand. The coffee, while enjoyable, only managed to keep me awake. Productivity had long since flown the coup... Oh well, though. I guess there is always Monday...

Pluses and Minuses

In the past 24 hours, I have eaten entirely too much. I have also, however, had enough water to drink for the first time in months. I am shamed by the food, redeemed by the water. I think I'll declare it a wash.

So the days until SB leaves are becomign fewer and fewer. Stupid boy. The sad thing is, a part of me is looking forward to it. Not really, but kind of. I'll miss him, yes, but I'll also have so much more time. I can read again. The idea! Reading!! I can go to bed at 10:30 if I'm tired, I can knit my lovely shawl. I mean, really. This shawl is going to be gorgeous. I can play the Sims 2 for hours (I think SB might be getting me "Open for Business" as well, as I've decided I must have it and would be willing to not eat a meal or two in order to afford it), and not feel guilty. I can watch hours of tv and not care about whether or not he likes the show. I can do yoga and try out the belly dancing video on OnDemand.

I'm not saying it won't be hard and I won't be sad. But I haven't had to be independent since I graduated from college. Which is a little strange, I know, but hey. Of course, I also won't really be able to eat, and that's no fun. But oh well. I'm sure I'll make it.

I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy....... [where?]

Well, after nearly two lovely weeks off, I have returned again to the belly of the beast. Okay, that may be a BIT extreme, but whatever. I thought on the way in this morning that I was actually kind of glad to be returning to my usual routine, but now not so much.

I was listening to my old Christian music cd's. And I know that everyone, my mother included, thinks that Christian music automatically equals sappy crap, but some of it is actually good music. And I'm tired of feeling like I have to defend my faith. Which I know is me, but it's also the radical right-wings with whom I don't want to be affiliated. So when I mention CSF, I'm always like, "It wasn't one of those kind of groups." But thinking about it, I don't even know what "those" kind of groups would be or how any Christian group I've been involved in wouldn't be one. Because really, every Christian group I tested out, even if I ultimately didn't go there, was pretty darn nice and welcoming. Why is there such a stigma? Even the groups where I disagreed with 90% of what they believed went out of their way to make me feel welcome. This isn't to say that these groups don't have the problems lots of groups have. CSF was notoriously clique-y. The houses got into HUGE spats. People were judgemental. But if you really needed help and let them know, they'd do a lot to be there for you. So yes. I'm going try and stop saying Christian groups are not "that type of group." And I'm going to stop feeling like I have to say, "Oh, I'm not THAT kind of Christian." People who know me should know that I'm not a crazy right-winger, and the ones who dismiss me that easily for my faith are probably not people I want to know anyways. And I've been realizing more and more how important that faith is to me, and I want to have joy (not necessarily happiness, but joy), and thinking that all this will work out for something good is all that is keeping me from going nuts at work, so...

CW just told me that Austin Grill is participating in Restaurant Week. What?! Who is going Austin Grill (or Hard Rock Cafe) for RW? Seriously, people. Spend your money better.

Back to DC.

Well, I'm back in DC. I didn't really want to go. I never do. My mom has declared that I need to come home for long enough to want to leave. I was glad to get back to Cassie and SB. SB was jealous because he stopped in to check on Cassie yesterday and she hissed at him and then didn't care that he was there. Then, when I got home, she ran over to me, and then got so excited, she ran around the apartment. It was pretty cute. She now is sleeping by my feet.

The whole Christmas time was fun, but insanely busy. I did get to see a plethora of high school friends. It was so bizarre. We all went to eat after picking up my brother and sil and ran into my dad's old partner's daughter. I went to elementary school with her, and then didn't really see her again except at her dad's funeral (he died from complications with a bone marrow transplant) in high school. Then I ran into another girl I hadn't seen since elementary school at the movie theater. Then, of course, there were the people I made an effort to see. There are really only three of them, two who are sisters, which isn't a huge number of people. But then there is Haley, WHO GOT ENGAGED FOR CHRISTMAS!!! I am so incredibly happy for her. She had a little party that I tagged along to, where I met her fiance (so strange to say) and got to see Jules, whom I haven't seen since hte summer after I graduated from college, and Molly (same), and caught up on news of others I haven't seen in forever. Oh, and Haley's going to be supporting herself and totally rocks, so go buy her cd. It was a little strange being there at the party. These people all stayed close to home for college, so they stayed in touch. So they're all like, remember that time a week ago, and I'm all like, remember in seventh grade... And I forget that people who stay around my hometown tend to have a different worldview. I love them and they are some of the most genuinely nice people I have met. But it's so incredibly different than people around DC. One of my friends was talking about this girl's jerky boyfriend and how he's had sex with other girls. This part was whispered, like sex was a bad word or something. It was funny. And a little confusing. I was never sure if he was cheating on her because she wouldn't sleep with him, which would be horrible and ridiculous, or if he had just had sex before in her life.

A and D, the sisters, are funny and doing well, as always, though A doesn't like her job, so we commiserated together. Even though she makes like two-and-a-half times what I do... D has a child in her class who claims (and his mom agrees) that he's possessed by the devil. He, obviously, is a bit of a handful and making her second year of teaching not so great.

Sigh. I was just looking at Haley's myspace. I'm so happy for her. I can't wait for the wedding, which will be LOADS of fun. And her ring is HUGE. Her fiance freaking found the diamond for it on the sidewalk when he was six. How crazy is that? Where is my diamond on the street?!

Merry Christmas/ Happy Holidays!!!

Well, I realize I've been a bad blogger and not updated for nearly 10 days. It's hard running a blog, a social life, an office, and a grad school application process. And then getting sick. Twice. Luckily, I am now done with the grad school applications! (YAY!!!!) Except for mailing in one hard copy that is waiting on getting my last recommendation in the mail. And I'm basically well, though I felt AWFUL on Thursday. Luckily, I made it home and probably infected everyone on both my planes, but what else is Christmas about?

Last weekend was my sister-in-law's brother's wedding. He lives around DC and they are the nicest family ever, so SB and I were invited to everything. It was just lovely. The wedding was beautiful, even if the music was a little hokey. But the hokey music was done by long-time family friends of the bride, so it was all good. The reception was GORGEOUS. Thousands of twinkle lights everywhere, very classy centerpieces. The only bad part about the whole thing was the catering service was not good. At one point, the brother of the bride was going around to the tables and picking up dirty dishes... Not good. The other, me-related issue was all underwear related. I had on one of those bra/slip/stomach-suck-iny things and it either peeked through the neck of my dress, or slid down until stuff was poking out the top and I had those horrible strapless bra lines. The groom's aunt totally saw me trying to heave it up, but oh well. I think it entertained her.

And I got to hang out some with Erik, who is an English PhD student, so that was fun, and Jonathan, my brother's giant college roommate who is now dating a girl still in undergrad. The girlfriend was also nice, just very young... And, as promised, there was ethnic dancing. It was all just fun.

Now I am home. My brother and SIL are here, too, and my grandma gets here today and my grandparents here tomorrow. My mom is on complete overkill mode and we have to bake everything today. The only dark spots are that I miss my cat... and that I found out that SB is indeed going to have to go abroad for a month, leaving less than a week after we get back from the holidays. He tried to get out of it for a number of reasons, but it looks like they really want him to go. Poop. But we shall not think about that. Instead, we shall concentrate on Christmas and family and not having to be back at work for over a week!

Since I probably won't have time to write tomorrow, merry Christmas, everyone!!

Yes, Virginia...

So I've decided I'm going to believe in Santa again. I remember believing in Santa. I remember how magical everything was. I remember sitting up Christmas Eve, straining to hear hooves on the roof. I remember being SO excited I could hardly sleep. And I'm going back to that model.

Some of you may be asking yourselves, "How is she going to go back to a previous period in her life?" Well, I realize that I can't become a child again. I can act like a child, though. And I know that I can't unlearn knowledge. But I can forget about it if I want to. And I feel my life could use a little magic right now. (I got the maximum raise my boss's structure will allow!!! Which is miniscule and I got that raise because she pities my small salary and I still make a tiny amount and can't afford food or clothing and can't rent an apartment without my parents or put any money into savings for grad school...) So magic is good.

What else is good? The hot cider at Gadsby's Tavern is AMAZING. I liked it with rum. The carolers there during the holidays, also very nice. Walking down King Street when the lights are up and there is a nice crisp feel to the air? Very holiday-y. Finding the PERFECT present for my mom was great. Being knocked on my ass for the past five days and sleeping basically the whole day before doing any of those things was not so great. In fact, I can say that being sick at the holidays definitely sucks. Luckily, after missing two days of work and sleeping INSANE numbers of hours, I am getting well.

Also, Cassie is no longer Coney (she doesn't have to wear her cone anymore. SB called her Coney while she did), and she seems very glad of that fact. Now I just have to figure out what to do with her over the holidays...

Prudes beware

I do not feel well at all. CW has already left. She heard someone else on our floor throwing up in the bathroow. I think there may be something going around. And the worst part is that today is horribly cold. Well, not horribly, but when you've had no period of acclimation and have had the ambient temperature drop 40 degrees in one week, it seems freezing. Plus the wind whips over the water near my office and makes it feel much worse than it is. When you add to all that illness... AND SB, whom I'm mad at anyways, can't even pick me up from the metro, meaning I get to add a climb up a steep hill to all my time in the outdoors. And my rib hurts. Just the one on my right, but it's an occasional throbbing and I don't enjoy it. I will, however, survive.

Luckily, I can space for the few remaining minutes of the day and sign our Holiday cards. Because New Guy, who we don't like much, decided we should personally sign all the cards we send out. Nevermind that last year we didn't even send any out. And since he picked out dark cards, we had to buy silver pens to use. He made me call the paper store near him and ask if they had them. What decent paper store doesn't have silver pens? I mean, come on... The people at the paper store laughed at me for even calling and asking.

Plus on [redacted] (the new Daily Dump blog), there is a guest poster who complained because one of his exes wanted him to go down on her so much. I realize this is a sensitive topic for some. But the whole thing frustrates me, mainly because I'm SURE this guy and several other blog-guys I know would throw a hissyfit if their girlfriend/random girl they picked up at a bar/on a corner wouldn't go down on them. I mean, really. If you listen to these guys, they talk about how giving head is "cleaner," somehow "more sanitary." Um... why? If you think about it, the same kinds of issues are going on in each region. We all pee down there, people! (Pee, by the way, is an antiseptic.) I think the real reason is that guys are selfish and squeamish. Well, I say no more of it! Tit for tat, everyone!! I'm calling on all girls who are involved in such activities to demand equality in such arenas. Stop being prudish! And men, suck it up. Both literally and figuratively.

Cone Kitty

My roses are opening very nicely. I'm going to take them home tomorrow so I can enjoy them over the weekend.

I made the mistake of looking to see whether or not I can safely take Cassie's cone off early. I can't let her run around freely because I'm worried she'll get stuck somewhere with it (she's already nearly gotten stuck under the bed and actually got stuck on the window ledge). So she's crazy every night and morning when I free her from the closet. Plus she can't groom properly (she tries, but just winds up grooming the cone as if it were her) and I can only do so much. I'd really like to take it off her, at least for a bit. BUT I googled to try and find out if cats actually will try to tear out their stitches, especially this far in the healing process, and I came across the most horrible story that makes me want to run home and make sure she's okay and cuddle her. This family adopted a cat and had her spayed. She tore out her stitches (this seems to be the only real example I've found of a cat tearing them out), so they put her in a cone. I don't really think the cone has anything to do with the rest of it, but the writer mentioned it as if it had something to do with it. One night, their beloved kitty starts crying and meowing like mad. Later the kitten's intestines explode out somehow and the poor thing had to be put to sleep. I know this has to be extremely rare and I know that Cassie's fine, but still. And EWWW...

Beyond the massive wildness and the dealing with the cone, Cassie seems to have adjusted quite well to her changed state. She's actually even friendlier than she was before. We did have another incident with her bed. I made the mistake of giving it back to her and she then had an accident on the floor. So I threw it out. No bed for you!

Four years and counting

Four years. Today is my and SB's four year anniversary. He already sent me lovely roses at work, which seemed to strangely surprise my boss. We have no big plans for tonight, but this weekend, we're going to Gadsby's. They're having carolers during the holiday on Friday and Saturday nights. It shall be tres cute.

It's weird thinking that it's been four years. Not just because it means SB and I have been together FOREVER (Who would have thought that I'd date someone four years and still not be married or engaged or planning to do either in the near future?), but because that semester doesn't seem like that long ago. I was in college, living in Collins with all my friends around me. That was the year that everyone lived in college. We had the Michelles in a room, Emily not too far, Whitney down the hall. I was still friends with Peggy and Clare. This would be the time of year for the Dicken's dinner, although junior year was the year the dinner kept being postponed until it was a weak copy of what it should have been. I was so happy then.

And now it's been four years. Poor SB has seen me go through SO much crap, enough that it really has screwed up my health. I lived in England for a while (I missed that year's Dicken's dinner, but exchanged it for a Christmas dinner in Hall where we all stood on our chairs and sang "Teddy Bears' Picnic"), finished school, graduated, tried to find my identity outside of being a student, moved home, moved away from home, got a job, hated my job, got another job, hated that job, too. And I am slowly learning to be happy anyways, even in circumstances that I hate. It's like we talked about in CSF once or twice (during the "fruit of the Spirit" session), joy is not dependent upon happiness. It's good that I'm learning this, because SB tends to feel that he SHOULD be able to make me happy, no matter what else is going on.

He has been with me through all of that and he is so sweet and tries so hard. And really. What more could you ask?

Poor kitty

Well my little kitty can have kittens no longer. She came through surgery and was up trying to play last night. It is pretty pathetic, though. They're making her wear one of those cones on her head. Not only does she have to wear it, she has to wear it for a whole TEN days. She keeps hitting it on stuff and then it scares her. This morning, I let her out of the closet for a bit. She hit it on my suitcase and then literally hopped across the room. She made it in only a few bounds, too. It would have been impressive/funny if I weren't worried about the state of her stitches. And she walks funny because it's there.

CW and I have been looking for engagement rings. Not because either of us want to get engaged, but because we want the rings.

Beyond turkey

It's funny how even my body doesn't want me to go to work. Yesterday, I had a slight fever and now my stomach's being all funny. Sigh. More reasons to leave. As if I needed any.

The whole time at home was lovely. My parents are entertaining. I read two books and finished a hat, which my mom then took pictures of to show her knitting club. It was rather nice, if I do say so myself. I did a lace pattern at the bottom and the yarn itself was so pretty. And my mom bought be really nice yarn (100% silk) for the next project, which is a shawl. I'm moving on to bigger things! My dad was funny, too. Insisted on buying a really expensive tree because he wanted me to be there to pick it out. See, Thursday we went to our usual tree farm. It's about a 30-minute drive, a place where you can cut the trees yourself, though we don't because they actually ship in the ones we like (Frasier firs). But, SADNESS of SADNESS. The tree place is closing!! Not only will they not be there next year, but they didn't even ship in our trees this year! So they only had little puny ones. It was depressing. So my dad had to work on Friday and I was leaving on Saturday, but we stopped at one nursery before I left and found a big, beautiful tree. The only thing? It was $100 MORE than the ones we got from the old place. A little bigger, a little fresher yes. But $100 more?! My parents were aghast, but I had to leave for DC and my dad wanted me to pick out the tree, so... We now own a hugely expensive tree.

I also got to see my glorious friends from high school and found out a highly entertaining story about one of our classmates (she's apparently pretending she was 'most popular' and a cheerleader when she was in high school, while currently coaching cheerleading and trying to get underage boys to let her wear their jerseys).

The only-not-so-fun thing was coming back to a crazy Cassie who may be going into heat and who is supposed to get spayed on Wednesday...

Happy Thanksgiving

The one bad thing about owning a cat is that now I'm conflicted about going home. See, I love being home. My parents are entertaining, the house is so soothing it's practically a vacation home, there are no street noises, no outside lights. Only peace and a lake and trees. But now, I miss Cassie. She's just so cute and adorable and I hate having to leave her by herself. I am going to be the most protective parent ever. And the night before I left, she slept all curled up in my arm. And then she got all frantic when I was leaving, like she knew I was going to be gone for a while.

My parents' cats, though? OMG, I think Felix is the biggest cat I have ever seen. He is HUGE! Which he was last time I was home. He weighed 21 pounds in June and he has gained weight. So he's long, muscular, and has a big belly. I keep making fun of him. Because, let's face it, a cat waddling is just entertaining. Particularly a waddling cat who keeps trying to run or jump.

SB is visiting Catholic couple who is, unsurpisingly but unwisely, now pregnant. I seriously question the wisdom of this, but I guess when you don't believe in birth control... See, the problem is Catholic husband is a vet who recently quit his practice to start his own. So he is currently out of work and trying ot start a business. She's a school teacher, so she'll at least have good health insurance, but not a large salary. It's just not a situation I'd like to be in.

Anyways, I'm off to finish my hat. I have to finish it so I can start on my new project that my mom bought me to day! Yay for knitting!!

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

So I've about had it with this community's/city's/country's obsession with size. I've read a few too many blogger entries with lines such as, "ew... she's such a cow," and "what a bloated whale carcus" (last one's word for word). Yet a woman in Brazil DIES from being too skinny, and I don't think anyone would have made fun of the way she looks. In fact, I was frightened by the fact that I didn't think she looked that bad in the pictures I saw of her. Her BMI was 13, she weighed as much as a 12-year-old girl should, but societally? Looked normal. You know what, DC? I would rather be overweight than starving myself to fit your stupid, superficial ideas of what a woman should look like. Grow up and expand your mind like a centimeter...

Dar, How I Love Thee

Last night was the much anticipated, if not really talked about, Dar Williams' concert. Seriously, I love that woman. After the concert, I turned to SB and told him that if I were going to turn gay for any woman, it would be for her. Strangely enough, he was okay with that, as long as it was only with Dar. She did have a cold last night, so her voice was a bit raspy and by the end, you could tell it was shot. She kept coughing and had to pop some cough drops, moving her drug use from backstage to front. At the end, you felt like not applauding insanely just so she wouldn't have to do an encore. She did. Two. And called us pitiless. I was not pitiless, Dar! There was pity! The woman opening for her, Caroline someone, had an amazing voice, too. She kind of enraptured you. Very dark musical choices, but really good. And she just looked so nice. She did give me the skunk eye, as SB would say, while signing my cd's. I'm have mixed emotions about autographs, but opening the one I got for my dad for Christmas to get autographed means I can burn it onto my computer now. Whee! Then last night, I dreamt that I was friends with Dar. It was lovely. So yes, good times were had by all.

I was also greatly entertained by the three flaming gay guys sitting next to me, plus one girl. Though they were all too skinny, particularly the one next to SB, and I just wanted to force them to eat something. Like some bread pudding, which came [gasp] without ice cream or whipped cream. I was disappointed, although the pudding itself was nice. Would be better without the raisins. I am very anti-raisin, particularly in desserts. Let's not pretend they are healthy, people. Embrace the unhealthiness and don't ruin it by adding little chewy things! DOWN WITH RAISINS!!!