Foodless

I am officially declaring Into the Wild to be the most depressing movie ever. Exceedingly well done. But it's been five days, and it still makes me shudder.

The first reason it is so sad and yet so good is that it completely plays into the societal and age-determined desire to just wander. To not have any kind of responsibilities, to just take off and experience life. It definitely has its appeal. Not that I in any way, shape, or form have the kind of personality that could deal well with being homeless, moneyless, and constantly dirty and hungry. But still. It's like On the Road. When we read that in my class in undergrad, everyone in the class wanted to take a road trip. Beyond that, I didn't particularly enjoy the book. But I wanted to hop on a train and eat nothing but apple pie for three months and sleeping on the floors of random people's apartments. Kind of. And there was something admirable in Alex Supertramp. He really didn't want to be materialistic. Or rather, he wasn't materialistic. He didn't want anything tying him down, and he managed to do some pretty cool stuff in the two years he was wandering around the country.

But then. There is apparently an ongoing debate on whether he was ill-prepared, wanted to die, what. No one really knows. But if he wanted to survive, and it seemed like he did at least from the portrayal in the movie, he was insanely unprepared. It seemed cocky. I mean, you don't go up into the wilds of Alaska with a small gun, a bag of rice, and a tent. I don't know much (although I think Survivor Man has definitely better equipped me for these kind of things.), but I'd have more than that. And he didn't think about the river rising, he didn't have a map, he didn't try and find another way out when the river blocked him off from the way he came. It's like he just gave up. Whether or not he wound up eating poisonous berries accidentally, he had time before that happened to try and get out. And why would you only take a single tiny book on vegetation when you are planning to live off the land? And you might want to do more than talk to a couple of people about hunting and how to skin and prepare animals. Because, as Survivorman has showed me, you can eat some pretty disgusting meat, as long as you have a fire to heat the crap out of it. Man Vs. Wild (who, as we know, is DEAD TO ME) has eaten maggots. It just frustrates me. It seems like such a waste for someone to die because of what? Because they were ill-prepared or cocky or... I don't know. There seem to be so many other things he could have done to save himself, pre-berry eating.

Also, the movie shows you him starving to death. It's pretty gruesome.

Which reminds me. I saw an even scarier "scary anorexic girl." She was awful. Her veins stuck out SO much. It was disgusting. And she was all sauntering when she walked, like she thought she looked so hot. I really wanted to stop her and be like, "PLEASE EAT SOMETHING. You don't look good so skinny." But I don't think that would work, since anorexia is horribly complicated. But still. Why would you want to do that to yourself?

Farewell, Oreo

So yesterday morning, my mom took my childhood cat, Oreo, to the vet's to be put to sleep. Oreo was old, and dying, and no longer enjoying any real quality of life, so no one get all defensive or anything. I am simultaneously more and less upset than I thought I would be. On the one hand, she was really old. When I went home last time, I pretty much knew she wasn't going to make it to Christmas. So it's not like a surprise or anything. And I've only seen her like once or twice a year anyways, so she hasn't really played a major role in my life for the past like 7 years.

On the other hand, she was a good cat. I remember going to pick her up. We were in our old Subaru and she ran under the seats. I remember trying to name her (it was between Oreo and Socks; yes, we weren't very creative.), and her playing with wrapping paper at Christmas and her sleeping on my bed or giving my brother fleas... It won't quite be the same going home and not seeing her. Not hearing her and Felix fight. I wonder if Felix will be lonely now? So Oreo, I hope you are in kitty heaven (I'm not Catholic, I can believe in pet heaven if I want to), with lots of tuna fish and comfy chairs.

A Course Description

So classes are going pretty well. I really like the Joyce/Woolf course; the professor is cool in a kind of nerdy way (afterall, he does teach Joyce). And he's such a great discussion leader. Encouraging everyone to say anything and allowing the discussion to flow well.

My other course... is a bit frustrating. The texts are somewhat hard, mainly because they are all from freaking forever ago (I mean, like 1350 and stuff) and we have a rather different point of view. The main problem, though, is the responses. We have to write a response every other week on the texts in relation to an analytical article. Which is not that big a deal. Most classes require a response. But she wants a casual, highly thoughtful, analytical, but relatively short and not that big a deal response. Not like a whole paper, she says. Don't worry about being that formal. But then she keeps marking me off for not citing correctly or not having a bibliography (for the REQUIRED TEXTS!) or being too colloquial. She's worse than Manav and at least I was writing an official paper for him. This is just a response! I've talked to some other people in the class, and we all agree it's a bit nuts. Even second years, so it's not a "OMG, I'm in grad school" type thing.

I finally have the time to write an entry (My parents were here last week, which was fun but involved lots of juggling/trying to squeeze homework into spare time and thus having no spare time), but I'm sick. And slightly incoherent. Which could be fun, since I have my Joyce class today and what can be more fun than being incoherent while talking about Ulysses? So this is all you get. Well, this and an internal yawp of excitement that my chocolate wine is finally in stock and that I get to see one of my best friends this weekend and go on roller coasters. Hopefully I will return with all my feet.

Paranoia

Okay, so I'm at work and I finished a writing piece. I go into my boss, and she's like, "wow. You're done? That's really fast..." Which now makes me wonder about the quality of the piece itself, except when I go back and look at it, I'm happy with it and I think it makes good sales sense. And I stole a fair amount from what the authors said, since their description was well-written... But I still feel all stressy about it. I seem to be able to finish things insanely fast here, or at least insanely fast compared to past interns, and I'm not quite sure why...

Worth more than a cookie.

Wow. So I guess it's been nearly two weeks since my last post. Oh well...

I was at a party this weekend for one of my friends. A chocolate party, I might add, which is such a great idea. While I was there, I was struck by how different my church group of friends is from everyone else I know. Well, not everyone else. But a good portion. They are just so responsible, so having everything together. Plus they are all older and definitely further ahead in their career. So they either are thinking of or have bought a place, many are married (although not the people I'm closer to) and have kids... I'm not sure why there don't really seem to be any people at my stage of life at church. Maybe it's that no one my age goes to church? But that can't be entirely true.

Whatever the reason, it kind of puts me in a strange position. On the one hand, I'm young. I'm clearly not settled in my career, anywhere near thinking about buying a place, and definitely not comfortably well-off. (And my loans still haven't come through to my checkbook... fun stuff...) But on the other hand, I feel older than I am. I have for a while. But I look at the people around me closest to my age and... I don't know. It's not that I don't kind of understand their lifestyles and whatnot, but they just don't appeal to me. I mean, parts of them do. But I'm never going to be a person who wants to go out all the time, staying up till all hours of the night. I like going out, I like hanging out even better. But staying out until 3 in the morning on Friday means that a good portion of Saturday is going to be wasted while I sleep. I would love to be able to buy something, I'd rather spend the evening in a quiet wine bar or a local pub or something than a loud club. Or a coffee shop. I really like coffee shops.

On the other hand, all this trying to organize school stuff, house stuff, and personal stuff all at once makes me completely exhausted.

Exhaustion

I would apologize for not updating, but I'm not sorry. I've been insanely busy in a "I have nothing really scheduled but 12987634987 things to do" sort of way. Add to that the fact that my house in currently internetless, and you get very few updates.

So, you might be asking yourself, what has been keeping her so busy, too busy to get online and keep us all informed? Well, this was my quasi-first week of classes. I say quasi because only Monday, Thursday, and Friday classes met this week. I began with orientation, where I got shut out of all classes I was vaguely interested in but one, which apparently very few people want to take and which cost me a fortune in books, due to having to buy 13. 13! I went to the Joyce class I'm waitlisted for and which I'm losing hope of getting into, as I still have not heard about getting in, although who knows. People might go to class on Tuesday and decide to switch, in which case I shall jump on it and get in that class.

I have also been trying to find stuff which will somehow allow me to squish as much stuff as possible into a small room and small house without forcing either me or my roommates to live on hte porch or in such squalor that we all get really cranky and kill each other. This process has involved several trips to Target, one trip to Ikea, and much time and energy. Add to this all the walking I've been doing, and you get a collapse of me. Plus I lost an expensive ball of yarn, which upsets me.

However, Cassie seems to have transitioned all right, I'm now sleeping through the night, albeit with strange dreams in which teachers chase me for finding out that not only are they not gay, they are dating their high school students (he kissed her in front of an auditorium! We then all began singing somethign about it all in a round. It was odd. I now must go on a mad search for the last book for my medieval class, in order to read it by Tuesday so I can write a commentary by early Wednesday... And then I shall refuse to move for a few hours, followed by a happy hour and two picnics.

A Dark Fairy Tale

Last night. my parents and I watched Pan's Labyrinth. I had strangely enough forgotten that it was in Spanish, and so didn't get the knitting done that I had planned. I seriously am so in love with my shawl that I'm making. It's silk, variegated purple, and has lace edging. It's going to be gorgeous.

Anyways, missing the knitting was probably a good thing. OMG. That movie. I can't stop thinking about it. It was so bizarre and beautiful and horrible. It played with the differences between true life and fantasy, the ending reminding me of the ending of my favorite story that I wrote, meaning that you weren't quite sure what had happened. The people were either amazing, or completely awful, more evil than you can usually imagine. Or at least more evil than I want to think about people being. I did enjoy that the strongest characters were women, for the most part. The imagery was dark and sensuous and reminiscent of The Brothers Grimm, but with more meaning and depth.

The only problem with this whole movie (besides the gruesome imagery. I mean, really. I don't actually need to see someone whose mouth has been cut opened.) was that it has put my laziness and my curiosity opposite each other. I want to find the myths that this was based on, I want to see what the history is really like, I can't for the life of me remember the other movie made by the other Spanish director that was up for an Oscar... But then I'd actually have to do research and whatnot. We're going to ignore the ramifications this laziness might have on my career as a grad student...

Bike-y Goodness

Whee!!! I got a new bike! My mom got the exact same one, but in different colors... Now we all match.

Me? Cranky? Why do you ask?

I'm feeling just a teensy-bit pissed off at the moment. Not at anyone at home, although you'd think my parents would have learned by now that I'm not a morning person. I don't want to talk to anyone for quite some time after I get up. It's not you, it's me and all that jazz. Just leave me alone for a bit and we can talk at lunch.

But that is just a minor irritant, something that happens when I'm at home and forced to interact with people in the morning. No, I'm instead upset about something else entirely, something I'd rather not get into too much on here. Let's just say that if you purport to care about someone, and they email you about feelings and insecurities and whatnot? Freaking at least acknowledge that they told you something. Don't just ignore it because you don't want to deal with it. In fact, I'm going to say that one of the best ways to deal with email? Ask yourself if they said the same things to you in person, would you feel like you should respond. If the answer is yes, you should respond in some shape or form. Dumbass. (It's okay, he doesn't read this. Though I'd be okay if he did, because its about time for him to have learned these things by now. Such as treating significant others with common courtesy.) So now I have the song from Chicago in my head, the one where the Six Murderesses describe what they did. Mainly the line from the first woman, about "feeling REALLY irritated... so I fired two warning shots. Into his head." Yes, I can occasionally be frightening. Why do you ask?

In another completely innocuous turn, Kinder Surprises are apparently illegal in this country. For those of you unfamiliar with these, they are little chocolate eggs with toys inside. The toys are carefully encapsulated inside a plastic egg and they usually have tiny parts that you must put together. Apparently, our government, in its infinite wisdom, has decided that these eggs are too dangerous and may encourage small children to eat parts of their toys. Not the toys from the eggs, but toys in general. Parents, if your kids are small enough that they might be confused about what is and is not edible, you probably shouldn't be giving them things with small parts anyways. If they are old enough to know not to eat toys, but still might be confused about whether plastic is edible... you might have some bigger problems on your hands than Kinder Surprises. Besides, we combine food and toys all the time. Cereal? Cracker Jacks? All food known to have toys inside. And what about the candy that you can play with? How is that not more confusing? Is it a sucker, or a light saber? It's both! Play with your sword, then eat it! But beware the dangerous Kinder Surprises...

I guess I really am all grown up now...

Apparently, this trip is going to be the trip where childhood dies. Okay, so that's a bit dramatic. But my childhood cat Oreo is dying. She's hanging in there, but just barely. Her kidneys are failing and she's not really eating and she was in the vet hospital for a while on iv's, so her little front legs are shaved and you can see how skinny she is. Which is just strange because before I graduated from college, she was overweight. Fat even. And now? So sad looking.

Also, they are getting close to tearing down my elementary, which I agree with in theory. I mean, the building is old and has been condemned and whatnot. So teaching there is probably not such a great idea. The local university wants the land, I'm sure, and leaving it up for sentimentality's sake is a bit strange. But still. It's hard to imagine that now all the schools I attended as a child have either been torn down or drastically changed. I'm not sure what happened to my preschool, but every other school... Even my middle school and high school have now morphed into one and I've been told that the inside is nothing like what it was when I was there.

My most recent haircut seems to have reminded my church that I have moved out. It was strange. The last Sunday I was there, I think only the people who were friends with my parents or parents of my friends said anything to me. This time, I think I was more popular than the preacher. Some people had me four years younger than I am (So... you're in your last year of college now? Um. No. I graduated three years ago.), but at least they knew I was no longer around. Why a haircut would accomplish this, I have no idea. But whatever.

Also, my friend Brian currently has a picture up. I can't decide how I feel about this picture. See, his wife is pregnant which makes me so happy(!!!!) because I know they will be great parents. But the picture is of him holding the test in his hands, reading the positive sign. So a part of me is all excited for them. The other part of me? Is going ew. I mean, she peed on that. I know urine is an antiseptic, but still.

A Not-so-fond Fairwell

My last posting from this desk. How shall I miss it, let me count the... or not.

So I'm on my way out. I'm quite excited about this. We all had a nice moment in the conference room that was horribly awkward. I'm really not good about being the center of attention at any point in time, much less in a room with 7 people, where one of the people has not said anything directly to me for a number of weeks (he still avoided it, for the most part) and where I harbor dislike for another. Still, I'll miss the other three (yes, 3+2+me only equals 6, but Pres' daughter is in today, so she makes 7. I'm rather neutral towards her.) I've cleaned my stuff up, filed everything I hadn't been filing for ages, and finished up the bits and pieces I had left. Now I'm just hanging out until I can leave. LEAVE!!! And then go home and take a few loads over to my new place. Ugh.

I shall also have to spend some time with Cassie. She's had a rough time lately. She ran into a glass door a few weeks ago, then ran into a wooden door, and then last night, she fell and bit her tongue. I think she bit it hard enough to make it bleed, which of course made me feel horrible even though there was little I could have done to prevent it.

And in another blast from the past, I myself friended the little sister of one of my old best friends. Her sister and I were always together for about 2 years solid. Our whole families were and somewhat are still friends. I feel bad because I tend to forget that there is another younger sister, who was too little for me to play with and who apparently made very little impression on my young mind. But the middle sister was frequently the third in our games. She got all the crap roles, though. And the blame for things that weren't her fault. We once blamed her for breaking a doll her sister was holding, because she tripped or distracted her or something. It was kind of funny, looking bad. She had to go apologize to my mom and was all in tears and she hadn't even done anything. Sigh. Good times. Of course, she's now threatening me with revealing pictures...

I'm not Bon Jovi.

Facebook is a strange beast. Today I had a guy friend me. This guy and I have a long and sordid history. We met online in 8th grade, back when that sort of thing wasn't done. He took me to my senior prom, we stayed in touch for a good portion of college. He kind of became friends with some of my other friends. Then we had a falling out. A pretty serious one, leading to me deciding that talking to him wasn't good for me and wasn't worth my time. Not to be mean about it, but he hurt my feelings and then not only didn't seem sorry about it, but twisted everything to try and make it my fault. Which is not cool with me. Hurt my feelings, yes, people can do that. I mean, you can't always know what's going to hurt someone. You might not agree that it is worth being hurt over. But to not want to apologize, to not feel bad for hurting someone? That I just don't get.

But maybe he's grown up some. Maybe he just wants more friends on Facebook. The whole thing is a little strange, though. Being tracked down by someone you had cut out of your life.

Strangeness Abounds

This week has been strange at work. It's my last week, a fact that excites me muchly (WHEE!!), but it has led to a strange office atmosphere. Or maybe it's not even that, but whatever it is, it means VP has not said one word to either me or CW. And actually, it's not even been just this week. I don't think he's said anything for the past few weeks. Not idle chat, not hello, not goodbye... I even got my hair cut again (it's not like three inches long), and not one word from either him or Pres. She at least has talked to me, mainly because she's in a good mood and because she wants me to do stuff before I leave. Though she also hasn't mentioned that it's my last week... And no one has told me exactly what they want to do before I leave. I mean, I've been doing the basic cleaning up, making sure everything that needs to be done is. But anything else? Who knows.

But Pres keeps acting funny anyways, laughing indulgently at strange things, like us only having a mechanical pencil sharpener because none of us ever use pencils. Or that our rubber bands are old and we haven't ordered new ones because she uses like 15 a year. I know. It's really not funny. "Haha, we tend not to waste money on office supplies we never use..."

A Trainwreck

I have reached the state of exhaustion where everything may or may not be funny and when the stupidest things make you giggle. Including awful yogurt pick-up lines on other blogs (Yoplait or mine? Seriously? Can't stop snickering at it.) I thought my falling asleep at 10 last night would help, but it has only dulled the edge.

I blame the commute. I think it may have killed my brain. See, yesterday it took me 2 hours to get from Foggy Bottom to Ballston. 2 hours! I could have walked in that time. Something I considered, but then realized it was freaking hot and my feet already hurt and my ankle is still not 100%... i also blame SB. The metro broke down yesterday. A train broke somewhere between me and where I was going and they claimed it was fixed, which was clearly a lie. There were no times on the sign. There was a man wandering the tracks at my station with a flashlight. I really don't think things were starting up. So I left. I was supposed to meet people at 6:15, it was now 6:25 and I thought I should call them. Plus I figured SB could come get me. Ha.

I called him and asked him to come get me. The lack of enthusiasm just dripped through the phone. He is so freaking unwilling to ever drive into the city. I don't know why. He comes in for meetings not that infrequently. It's really not that scary of a place. And I say that after getting lost nearly every time I've tried to go somewhere specific around here. (It's the traffic circles. Screw EVERYTHING up for me.) Since he was SO excited about coming in to get me, I offered up a bus possibility, not in seriousness, but more in a "I'm trying not to force you to do what I want, but really get your butt in here because there is no way taking a bus is not going to take forever" way. Yeah, guess what I wound up doing. Freaking waiting for a bus for 40 minutes, followed by a 40 minute bus ride. Because he "honestly thought it would be faster for me to take the bus." Liar. He honestly really didn't want to pick me up in DC. He wanted to pretend like it would take less time. But deep down, we both know that's not the reason.

I was too tired last night to be properly pissed off, but tonight... Plus, appropriately enough, Token Male CW yesterday was talking about his then-girlfriend, now wife, and how he once rode from Ballston to Van Ness at 10:30 at night in the rain, because she thought she heard a noise downstairs. That's what HE did...

Moving Forward

I am officially homeless. If SB wanted, he could kick me out and it would be me and my stuff on the street. Not likely, but still. It's strangely a little freeing. For at least this little bit, I don't have a place tying me down. I have no responsibility to pay rent or cable bills. My stuff is completely in a mess and I can't find anything. Last night was a success because I found a pair of shoes and my retainer. (Yes, I still wear my retainer. I didn't spend 2 and a half years in pain to watch my teeth slowly become crooked again.) And while not being able to find stuff is not the same as not having stuff, I still feel somewhat unencumbered. Just don't tell SB's housemates... They'd take one look at my massive amounts of clothing clogging up their storage room and laugh.

I also just got back from an interview for an internship. I think it went well. In fact, I might be a bit overqualified, not in that the position has nothing to offer me, but more in that I would be doing work comparable to what I do now. The difference would be that this internship would give me a chance to look at a part of an industry I think I'm interested in. I would be working for basically the whole department, which would give me a broad view. And they had an editing test, which I nailed. I mean, "manged" for "managed?" Just made me giggle.

Up and Down and Down Again

I am just about to collapse from exhaustion, mental and physical. This weekend... Up and down and up and down yet again.

Last Thursday, we went to look at a house. It was great. Perfect even. We both felt like it should be ours. Sadly, there was an application put in the day before. BUT there was a chance that if our application was better, we could still get it. Friday, we frantically put together the individual portions of our applications. The girl from Colorado got up early to get it in by noon EST. We sent it in with a check for credit checks and a check for a deposit, hoping that having our money in hand would also tilt things in our favor. Things were looking sunny by mid-Friday. Our realtor thought we had a pretty good chance.

Saturday, I started to move out. It took freaking forever. SB kept trying to convince me that I didn't need to move out all of my clothes, because potentially we would get the perfect house and I could move some straight there. We made several trips. I hurt my foot even more, to the point that Saturday night I had resorted to basically hopping, only lightly touching my right foot down for each step. Physically I was exhausted. I didn't eat enough. I hadn't slept enough. I didn't drink enough water. By the end of the day, I was nearing collapse. And it took all day to move. Not a few hours. Not even several. But all. And I still have those last pieces of clothing and about half the kitchen to move. And I have to clean everything. By tomorrow night. I also have no lights in my apartment outside of the kitchen and closet and bathroom.

I slept a bunch Saturday night. A bunch, but not well. SB's basement is noisy. I was worried about Cassie and how she was managing the transition. I was worried about whether or not we'd get the house. Woke up still exhausted in the early afternoon.

And Sunday evening I learned that my worry had been right. We didn't get the perfect house. There hasn't been a lease signed, so theoretically it could all fall through for the other person, but it doesn't look good. I was very sad, and immediately felt more exhausted.

Today... still tired. Still didn't sleep well last night. There have been a few brighter spots. I may have an interview for a paid internship. My mom sent me flowers to make me feel better. But I still have no place to live and I am thoroughly tired of looking.

Don't Work Out with a Sprained Ankle, or Why I Am a Moron

Those of you with someone longer-term memories may recall last week that I hurt my foot walking to see a place. I quickly, and by quickly mean over several days and with the opinions of others, decided that not only did I twist my ankle, I actually sprained it. The bruise got darker, the swelling got bigger, I bought a wrap and started wrapping it... It's only a minor sprain, so I can get around fine and just limp a bit.

HOWEVER. I am a moron. Or at least, not very good about taking care of myself if it is something that I can ignore. So Friday. Walked. A lot. Took waltzing lessons at the HP event. Walked some more. Barely could walk by the end of the night. Luckily, this didn't have a horribly adverse effect, although I'm sure it didn't help.

Then the bruise and swelling started to go down. I started limping less. Felt almost normal. I was considering stopping wrapping. Then my stupidity kicked in again. First, I forgot that I'd only been injured a week (I thought it had been two), and it takes over a week for an ankle to heal. Then I thought that I could just be careful when working out. HA! I should have known better. I started off on an elliptical machine. It hurt some, so I wisely got off and got on a reclining bike. Things were going okay. But I'm not used to a reclining bike. For one thing, it burns a heck of a lot fewer calories. Plus it's hard... Yes, that means it's probably good for me, forcing my muscles to do something else. But it also means... it's hard.

So I got off after 15 minutes and got... on an elliptical. The same machine that hurt earlier. My foot started swelling a bit. My toes went numb as the wrapping dug in tighter and tighter. By the end, I was a little afraid that I was trapping blood down there and might eventually pass out. And yes, I still finished my proscribed time (10 mins. with a 3 minute cool-down). In my defense, my foot didn't REALLY start going numb until the cool-down. And nothing REALLY hurt after a few minutes.

But today? Today I am back to limping. It hurts nearly as much as it did when I first hurt it, although it's not nearly as swollen. And I get to move in two days. It could be fun...

Betrayal

So my coworker pointed out this today. Apparently Bear Grylls and Man Vs. Wild is a big fraud. He stays in hotels. Consultants make his rafts and show him how, so they can get the precious shots of him building them. Channel 4, the channel in Britain airing the show, excused themselves, saying fans should know because " he often directly addresses the production team, including the cameraman, making it clear he is receiving an element of back-up." Which is a big fat lie, obviously spoken by someone who doesn't actually watch the show. The ONLY times I've ever seen Bear address the cameraman were when they were in danger and he was telling them to get back or get out of the water or some such warning. And Bear himself has said on the show that he's not allowed to interact with them. Hmph.

Now some of you might not think that this is such a big deal. After all, he's still showing you the survival techniques and he still, as Channel 4 put it, "does his own stunts." But it is. First of all, they lied. I'm tired of people lying, relying on trickery to get good ratings. Plus, while Bear is attractive, liars are not. So all this makes him less attractive. Second of all, I only marginally watch the show to learn how to survive if, by some strange chain of events, I wind up stranded in the arctic or something. A good portion of why I watch is to see how someone well-trained can manage to do these things that are beyond my capabilities. To learn that they are beyond his, too? Such a let-down. Next, they'll tell us that he wasn't actually climbing waterfalls in the wild, that it was all a set and they had those invisible wires holding him up.

That's it. My allegiance now goes to Survivor Man. Not only is his show more informative, because he can't do a huge amount that I can't, but it's more true. After all, he doesn't even have a cameraman with him. He carries all his own equipment.

Less-es approaching

I have decided that one of my new big pet peeves is people who don't email back in a timely manner. No, I'm probably not talking about you. But if I am... beware...

So the big move is approaching and I will officially have no where to live. Then, one and a half weeks after I become homeless, I shall become jobless, too. I will essentially be a bum, living off the government. Of course, in this case, I shall eventually have to pay the government back and will have a place to live at some point in time. But still. It's all so exhausting.

I would, of course, write about the final Harry Potter book, but I know several people who don't know what happens, and I don't want to ruin it for them. For some reason, though, that kindness doesn't want to extend to people on my commute. Every time I see someone reading it, I really just want to yell out, "So-and-so dies. DIES. Kaput. They are gone." I don't get it. Most of these people I feel rather neutral towards. One is one who does tend to annoy me by talking loudly and obnoxiously to her friend, but the rest are perfect strangers. I don't actually do it, but the temptation... always there. I did enjoy the last book, but now I have to go back and reread it. I read it in a speed-reading marathon of approximately 6.5 hours, meaning I averaged over 100 pages an hour. I'm rather proud of that. But now I need to go back and reread the 4th and 5th and then the 7th. I just reread the 6th like last week, so don't really need to. There are things I only vaguely remember. Like Sirius' mirror. Minor flashes of recollection, but for the most part? Only grayness... Appropriately enough.

Furthering my nerdom

I discovered something sad today. Apparently, there is a Buffy Musical sing-a-long this weekend. And I don't have tickets. And it's sold out. Though it'll be back in November, if I can remember and have the time to go.

Also, I have to force myself to stay away from the news. How dare they leak details about the last Harry Potter book?! Jerks.

And Arlington sucks. See, I went to see a place last night that was a forever long walk away from the metro. It involved crossing 50 where it intersects Washington Blvd. Both are 4 lanes. 50 is crazy and really can't be crossed without a light. There is a sidewalk on the side of Washington and you go under 50, so theoretically it should all work out. HOWEVER. Arlington had to redo the bridge. They are trying to make it more pedestrian-friendly, which I am all in favor of. To do this, they, in their infinite wisdom, decided to destroy both sides of the sidewalk and put confusing little "Sidewalk closed. Go this way." signs everywhere that wound up pointing to each other.

So I wind up perilously walking in construction trenches where the sidewalk should be, as cars going 45 whiz by three feet away. I was hot, I got dirt blown on me, and I'm still apartmentless. And my ankle starting twinging with pain last night. This morning, it hurts more and I have a funny bruise/swollen area. I blame the county. CW thinks I should sue.

Moving sucks, and other things

I am so ready for a vacation. Good thing that I bought my tickets home! Yay. And I'm leaving a day earlier, because that's when flights were cheapest and when I could overlap trips with my brother and sister-in-law. Now, if I can just get housing nailed down...

Speaking of which, I met with Most-Likely Roommate. She's pretty cool. Nerdy enough to like Eureka, which is always a good sign. CW decided I wasn't excited enough about the whole thing, but really. I'm just completely exhausted. This whole thing is just wearing me out to the point that I just want it to be over. Although I did discover a lovely coffee frappucino type-thing when I went to meet her. (The exhaustion plus the stress = me craving coffee and sweets, or better yet, sweet coffee.)

I also am making gradual process on my lists. Applied for health insurance, which hopefully will not take the 4-6 weeks they mention, as I am supposed to have it for grad school and that will barely get it going in time, as my old cuts of September 1. I also really need to go get my shots (I can't believe I still have to be vaccinated for school. As my mom puts it, "You're in GRAD school and you need to fill out health sheet?!) I've been decent on my packing plan, although Cassie hates it. She is enjoying one of the tubs, as she likes to sleep on it or just jump up there to better attack me. Her hating the changes, though, leads to her crying entirely too much. Some of that is because she found one of these little flower roses that she absolutely loves to chase around. She carries it around, though, and cries. Apparently, she associates crying and carrying. I'm not quite sure why.

Nothing funny or entertaining seems to be happening lately. I mean, there are the political fiascos still, the quotes from the Administration that make me want to run through the streets screaming, "STOP LYING TO US, WE AREN'T MORONS!" until I listen to quotes from the general public and am reminded that, yes, we are morons. My brain isn't working, so I'm not even having funny thoughts. Although I did feel like I had fallen inside a Zach Braff movie the other day, listening to a French cd on the metro. Something about the type of music and the movement of the metro. I also thought that it would be cool to shoot a scene that included the reflection of a person climbing the escalators in the metro, mainly because I saw the reflection of me climbing the stairs in the metro.

Oh, I am almost done with the scarf that would not die! That excites me. My goal is to finish it before I move. I think I can do it. I only need to knit a few more inches. And then I have to sew part of it together, because of a whole fiasco which is not that interesting but which led me to threaten to burn a row of the scarf for every minute the next time SB fell asleep.

Besides all that, I just desperately need a break, one which will hopefully occur after I quit. If I haven't moved, then I won't be so relaxed. But, we are keeping our fingers crossed....

A Harry Week

I am declaring this week to be (somewhat) the week of Harry Potter. First, of course, the movie came out last week. I, being the faithful fan that I am, went this weekend. It was thoroughly entertaining. Much better, I thought, than most of the previous. It felt more like a complete movie, able to hold its own separate from the book. I still walked out going, "well in the book, this happened and this was this way and..." but that was more for SB's edification and to prove that he really should just freaking read the books. He doesn't "want the books to ruin the movies for him." Hmph.

And of course, this weekend is... the last book of the series. I'm excited, but yet... It'll be the end. No more Harry Potter. No more getting excited to see what happens next. I'll know. Plus I'm worried for the characters. See, I get way too involved in my books. I mean, entirely caring too much. It's the reason I didn't really like The Lord of the Rings. I couldn't relax for them until I had finished the whole trilogy. Even at the end of one, you knew it was just a breather of safety. And it's not like they are quick reads. I mean, it took a couple of weeks to work through them all. That's a long time to be worried. But yes. And I KNOW that someone I care about is going to die in Harry Potter. It's kind of a given. I mean, I'm rereading the 6th in preparation and I'm having a hard time forcing myself to finish it because I know what happens. I know who dies. But not knowing who but knowing that it's coming and could be anyone? If she's killed off Hermione, I'm going to be pissed.

At least this time there will be no delivery fiasco such as last time, when a stupid company lost my book and I didn't get it for a week and by then was so pissed off, I'd gone to their competitor to buy it. And then, because by then everyone had already finished it, my friend accidentally told me the ending. Which I don't blame her for and which certainly didn't ruin the book or anything. But still. And I'd better have it done by the end of this weekend. Because I know one of my coworkers and he'd tell me the ending just for fun. And Amazon has promised that I will have it in my hands on Saturday, or I don't pay for it.

"Aid"

My dad is officially driving me insane. I think he and my mom are not on the same page about helping me out with school. Either that, or he keeps changing his mind and is feeling frugal. Whatever. All I need to know is a. if they are helping me out and b. if so, by how much. Right now he keeps calling my loans "aid" and acting as if they are like free money, while every once in a while throwing out a mention of them helping me. I've got too many other things up in the air right now; all I need is some freaking answers.

Luckily, I have my escapes. 1. I am totally going to see Harry Potter this weekend. Also, I really need to start rereading the last book so I'll be ready for this next one. Whee!! I was a bit disturbed to see Daniel Radcliffe turning into an almost attractive guy. Not that he's unattractive, but for a long time he was very nerdy and very obviously insanely young. Too young for me, though those of you obsessed with the boys from Newsies... You know who you are... But now he's getting all adult looking. 2. Eureka's new season started last night! I love that show. SB was totally making fun of me, though, because I was really excited about it and then proceeded to pack while it was on. But I was still listening and I watched most of it. I'd just had a bunch of sugar and I have a gradual pack plan. I shall pack a couple of boxes a day and that way I don't have to freak out right before I move. And moving boxes are freaking expensive. I was looking into getting some of the wardrobe boxes, but they are $10 a piece at least, and I'd need several of them. I may just go the tacky route of just putting a big plastic bag around them and taping the hangers together. 3. Watching Cassie, who remains highly strange and entertaining. She just has the best kitty facial expressions. The other night, I looked over and see her sitting on the air conditioner just staring at me with giant eyes. It actually could have been a little frightening, except I know she can't do anything.

The Countdown begins

Ugh. Back here at work again. I took last week off, thanks to some comp time I wanted to use before quitting (QUITTING!!!!) and went home. Home was nice. Not quite as relaxing as I might have hoped, given that I know the 180084782038472890 things I need to do, and don't want to bother with. And there were some mad knitting issues. See, I've been working on a scarf for SB since, well, practically since we started dating. It started out of frugality/I don't know if he's getting me a present for x and need a back-up. Nice plan. However, we are now 4.5 years into the scarf that will not die. I hate this scarf. I hate it with a passion. I threatened to rip it out or burn it or something. Sadly, he does not seem to think this is a great option. He also didn't go for the "it'd just be a really SHORT scarf..." approach. So I got out my how-to book, figured out after I had ripped out the cast-on row that I couldn't add on to the scarf that way, replanned the whole thing, and threw it and SB out the window. Okay, maybe not the last step. But whatever. It's what I wanted to do. I did, however, knit some on my lovely silk shawl while I was at home and remembered why it is so much fun to knit on. It's gorgeous and crazy soft. And I've already loosely planned out my next two projects, with my mom promising to help pay for the yarn for my first sweater...

Also lovely was seeing my grandparents, who are absolutely amazing and gave me enough money that I don't have to flip out for the next few months. Such a stress relief. I can just relax now, once I find a place to live. Which I think I'm close to. I've found a roommate (probably) at least, and we think we know of a place to apply to. I just have to go check it out, actually talk with her in real life, and then get ready to move. I am keeping an eye out for two-bedroom houses, though, since I'd really rather be in a house. I'd love something like this place I looked at in Old Town, which also came with a cool roommate with two cats for Cassie to play with, but a slightly too high price tag and a location not exactly where I wanted.

Not so lovely is the fact that my apartment's air conditioner sucks and currently the temperature hovers around a balmy 78, meaning that I can't really sleep well. Combine that with the hideous headache I had last night, and you get one very sleepy, not wanting to be here worker.

Farewell, Studio 60

I think last night may have been the last ever episode of Studio 60. Studio 60, I shall miss you. You were dramatic and intelligent and therefore had to die. I thought the last episode tied everything up a little too neatly. "She's dying, she's dead, he's dead, no, everyone is alive and happy and in love!!!" But I still enjoyed you muchly. And I nearly missed you entirely. Luckily, I was watching the So You Think You Can Dance? results show immediately before and remembered right as I was about to turn off the TV. (Sidenote: If my brother weren't white, he'd look like Dominic.)

I also think that there is only one other woman working on my floor today. Thanks to the sheer amount of water I usually drink and the tea and coffee I had in addition, I've spent a fair amount of time running back and forth to the bathroom. And there has only been one siting of anyone else and very little evidence that anyone besides us has used the restroom. I know, this is a weird thing to notice, but when you have to pee 8 times in 5 hours, you need something to occupy your mind.

The Hells of House Hunting

Or apartment hunting. Whatever. Technically, I'd like to live in a group house, so it's house hunting. Though if I could buy a place... [drools] I don't know WHY I want my own place so badly, but I do. Poor SB gets to hear a lot about it. Usually at dusk for some reason, when I'll look out the car window (it always happens while driving), and whine, "I want my own house..."

Anyways, I always forget how strange it can be to look for a place. It's like a job interview, a first date and a house sale all rolled in to one. You have to find someone that you'll get along with. Not just someone you'd get along with as friends, because there are some friends that if you lived with them, someone would not come out alive. But someone you can live with, hopefully have fun with, and only want to kill occasionally. This also has to be someone with a comparable level of responsibility, someone who fits you in levels of cleanliness and rent paying. You also have to like the room/place itself. And you are supposed to be able to tell all of this in a matter of minutes. If you are wrong... well, we all know how miserable it can be to be wrong in that kind of situation.

Cassie has been particularly cute lately. I think it is to make sure that I don't start resenting her for keeping me out of houses. Sigh. Stupid people and their biases against cats. Not the people who are allergic. Because I know you can't help that and it's no fun. But the people who think my cute little cat is secretly going to eat their apartment. Now, I know some cats don't behave. Some people don't behave, for that matter. But Cassie is a pretty clean little cat. Her only destructive tendencies are to destroy things that are for her (like her place mat. Completely ripped apart) and to knead select items of my clothing. That I don't really get, or like, but she only does it occasionally and I think she's trained out of it.

In other news... well, I don't have much. I'm going home next week for a much needed pampering. If I could only have a place by then... Pipe dreams, I know. I'm hugely cranky right now. Stupid tourists. Stupid work (and coworkers in general). Stupid heat. Stupid metro. I do have macaroni and cheese for dinner tonight. That, sadly enough, makes me somewhat happier. I also retrieved my poor AWOL iPod last night. I left it on Friday night in SB's car. Well, SB left for other climes on Saturday. He found it, called be obscenely early in the morning to let me know he'd found it, and put it in his mail cubby inside his house. Only problem with this scenario is that I don't have a way to get into his house. I went by Sunday. No one was there. I couldn't make it over there (it's like forever, and by forever I mean a 25 minute drive, away) until last night. I had to commute for TWO DAYS with no iPod. I felt my iq dropping, being forced to listen to the conversations of lost tourists and new interns. Those are iq points I can never get back, people. They are gone for good. So yesterday, I went back by and chased one of SB's roommates into the house. One I'd never met, by the way, which is actually a little frightening. I wonder what I could have stolen...

Befuddling Shoes

There is a man at my metro stop who intrigues me. I see him a couple of times a week, and I'd really like to stop and talk to him, except I'm afraid he might be crazy and, while I don't think he would or could hurt me (it's in the morning, there are lots of people around, he has shoe issues), I really don't want to get stuck in a crazy conversation. Particularly not if he turns out to be internally angry. After watching the crazy guy at Farragut West walk the streets and yell at people, I've realized such things can be a risk.

Anyways, there are lots of people around this town asking for money, but I've never seen anyone like this guy. First of all, he looks nearly normal. The only thing stopping him from completely fitting in to society is the fact that he is mutely asking for money. Well, that and the aforementioned shoe issues. See, the shoes are a big part of the mystery. He HAS shoes, but only some days. And the days when he has shoes, it's not a guarantee that he's wearing them. Some days, you see him standing there, no shoes on, but with a pair quietly sitting beside his feet. Other days, he's wearing them. Still other days, there are no shoes in evidence. What happened to the shoes? Did he walk to the corner without shoes? I've never seen him not at that corner, but maybe I have and didn't recognize him due to his ordinariness. I don't know that I would notice a random person walking with no shoes. I don't look at people's feet THAT often...

The other unique thing about this guy is how he asks for money. There is no sign, he doesn't plead. He just stands there, not looking at anyone, with his hand outstretched and cupped. Which makes me wonder if he really needs that money desperately, because there are very few people who will walk up to someone that closely and put their money directly in his hand. Though he did shave his head a couple of weeks ago and that made him seem more approachable.

It all makes me wonder if perhaps he's doing some kind of social experiment. Perhaps in a few years, I'll open up some magazine and read about the guy who want to see how people would react. Or, I guess I could just talk to him...

Bear Bared

I got my hair retrimmed. And I'm not sure how I feel about it this time. It's more square. I'll give it a week or two to grow on me (ha!), and maybe I'll get my hair cut next time I'm home. The woman I go to there is insanely good and only costs $35, as opposed to the $50 this haircut cost me.

In more exciting news, CW discovered, and more importantly passed on to me, the link to a Bear Grylls blog!! He is of Man Vs. Wild fame and is very hot. Even better, the blog is linked to a photo gallery of some very nice shots. Both SB and CW's boyfriend are a bit jealous of our love for Bear. I'm sorry. He's hot, he's in amazing shape, he knows how to get out of any situation alive, and does crazy stunts for charity. I'm not saying I'd want to marry the guy, partly because he's already married and partly because I wouldn't want to worry that much about my husband while he's jumping into freezing waters and floating on small rafts above shark-infested waters. But I wouldn't turn down a date with him, either.

I'm also trying to decide on whether or not to take a lease. See, the house is very cute, my roommate seems very nice, the location is ideal, and Cassie would have a pug to play with. The rent is reasonable for around here (although SB was nice enough to point out that you are paying more for the ideal location), though a little higher than what I'd like to spend. Actually, I'd like to spend much, much less, but I have this crazy idea where I don't want to live in fear of random muggings or shootings. And I don't want to expose Cassie to potential crack dealers. She is at an impressionable age, you know.

The negatives would be that the house is pretty small, including what would be my room, and there is a shared bathroom. And I have a lot of stuff, mainly clothes and a few pictures/paintings. Plus, the pug goes outside, which means that I probably should start giving Cassie heartworm medicine. And it's hard to tell how well you'd get along with someone from just a brief moment.

But I did like her and the house is cozy and there is the storage shed out back. I just don't know. I hate making decisions like this. I feel like if I say yes, and if she wants me to live there (it's a delicate dance), it's monumental. Sigh. This is why I need a real magic 8 ball...

One More Time for Junk!

Just to keep Home Improvement Ninja happy, there is now a new Catholic boy in the world. Let the gun-burying begin.

Clearly it's been a while since an update. Reasons? Getting ready for big event, big event, exhaustion, illness, no internet due to staying home due to illness... It all takes up a lot of time. The fever dreams are exciting though. Strangely vivid.

Anyways, last night, SB and I were watching So You Think You Can Dance?, at least until Last Comic Standing came on and SB made me change. (Not really mad. It's actually pretty funny. There currently is a guy literally dressed up like an ape. It's his whole shtick.) Watching the bizarre dances made me think of the wonderful time in high school when Haley and I made up a dance. Or rather a "dance." It was strange. Very strange. We spent weeks on it, working during breaks in choir. I can't remember much of it, just a few turns, a jump or two, and that it was very staccato. We only performed it once, for our friends, who stared at us in disbelief and confusion while we fell on the floor laughing.

This made me feel a bit nostalgic and I went to find the picture of us from it. I never found it, but did enjoy looking through the one scrap book I'd made and the one photo album one of my best friends made me. The pictures reminded me of one or two things.

First, and a bit redundantly given the dance story. I was/am quite strange. Not in a freak you out sort of way, but what I like to think of as a refreshingly unexpected and entertaining way. Not only was there the dance, there was also the cookie story (It looks like a cookie, it smells like a cookie, it TASTES like a cookie... IT'S A MUFFIN!!!) which Haley and I would randomly repeat. There were the strange pictures of the Gang of Four, the most innocuous high school gang (originally group) EVER. I mean, seriously. Four white, upper middle class, honor roll students who had known each other since elementary school. There were several pool pictures that I know took hours to set up. There was the picture where I "accidentally" dropped Julie on the floor during set-up. There was my and Emily's favorite joke ("Ask me if I'm a truck..." "Are you a truck?""...no...")<-- it grows on you. I haven't been quite that weird since high school, I'd say. So I'm making it my goal to find people who allow/make me be that weird. Because let's face it. It was a lot of fun.

Also, looking at the pictures, for all my self-esteem issues, I was freaking adorable. So I stick my tongue out at all my crushes who never got up the courage to ask me out. Nerds...

Stepping over the brink

So the whole office officially knows that I'm leaving. Our president made some wisecrack about how a BA in English didn't really add up to much for me. Whatever. My old supervisor who is now just a coworker was really happy for me. He's been funny about it. I think he's the most genuinely happy for me of the whole office. Not that the others aren't, but they all have reasons for wanting me to stay. Whereas this guy, I think, has felt like I should leave for a while. And I heard from the school that they received my deposit and intent to attend, so I'm all formalized there. I just have to get all my medical ducks in a row. My whole family was a little worried about that, as the form claimed the school needed to know by May 1. I had talked to the department and they seemed completely okay with me waiting to decide, and I figured it was all a bit of a scare tactic, but my mom in particular freaked out. All nagging without nagging. Now if I could just find a place... I know I'm still forever out, but as of today I have let my apartment know that I'll be leaving. They want a ridiculous 2 months notice, so... And Cassie is making it so much harder. I tell her that frequently. I do always follow it with a "but I love you, so it's okay," but still. Stupid people and their biases against/allergies to cats.

And Catholic couple should just about be Catholic parents by now. She was supposed to be induced today. So, either there is a new Catholic baby out there, or there will be any moment now. SB, who went home for the race (sigh), saw them on Tuesday and said she was huge. He also informed me that she was already starting to dilate, which was something that a. I didn't need to know and b. I'm not sure if I want him to know either. Anyways, I wish them much joy and her an easy delivery.

Neither Asian or Blond

I have become a compulsive Craigslist watcher, mainly the housing section. Though I do dream of being a missed connection. I have decided that for that to happen, I need to either become Asian or blond. Since blond seems more likely... but then I'd look strange. I'm not a natural blond and it shows.

So I told my supervisor at work today that I'd be leaving in August. He was very nice about it all. Though he did make fun of me for not wanting to tell our President. I believe he called me a chicken. Which I will freely own up to. Just paint me yellow and stick some feathers on me.

I had a rather relaxing weekend that was and wasn't. For one, I really didn't eat much on Saturday, primarily because of my weaving class. I went to the regular class and stayed late to finish warping my loom for my individual project. By late, I mean basically the entire afternoon. and then Saturday and Sunday night, I went into mad weaving overdrive and actually finished my whole scarf. Now I'm planning on going on Thursday, rewarping, and weaving a present for someone. It shall be glorious.

Political ranting

Yay! The local wine store I emailed about the Noche wine is getting it in early June. That makes me very happy. Now I don't have to plan a trip to the winery if I don't want to, or pay the ridiculous shipping charges. Not that I blame the winery for that one. I know they have to pay what the various companies charge them.

So I made the mistake of reading the comments on a Newsweek article on Bill and Hillary Clinton. The article was on whether or not Bill would help or hurt Hillary's campaign. The comments were just ridiculous. I'm not saying that I expect these comments to be erudite, but come on. All, "We shouldn't vote for a woman weak enough to stay with her husband after what he did," and "The Clintons are lying liars who lie and stuff," and "If Hillary wins, it will be the end of civilization and American values!" I'm not saying that people who disagree with me (or with whom I disagree) are dumb; everyone is entitled to their opinions. But people, if you are going to say something crazy, at least back it up with something vaguely resembling reasoning. Tell me what policies Hillary would institute that could have a negative impact upon civilization. And would someone please define American values? Because what I would consider American values (freedom, the belief that everyone can succeed with enough effort, not bombing the shit out of countries for stupid reasons) have pretty well been trampled by this administration. And yet the people who are screaming about American values also seem to be the ones who tell me that not supporting the administration is equal to support terrorism.

Oh, and this is another thing. I know they have defined it as "the war on terror" and people are "weak on terror," etc. I hate that. Terror is an emotion. Terrorists are people, terrorism is an act. Terror is an emotion. Now, I'd say that you could wage a war on terror, mainly by trying to get people not to be afraid. Take Back the Night, I would say, is waging a war on terror. Blowing people up to supposedly stop terrorism? Not waging a war on terror. And how can you be weak on terror? Does that mean you don't get scared enough? I know, I know. Crazy English major arguing semantics. But these things matter, whether or not you believe they do.

Huzzah for wine!

I adore the Mount Vernon wine festival. SB and I went on Sunday and it was just SO lovely. Much better this time than the last time we went. Last time, we went to the one in October. We had tickets for the Friday, we were running late, got stuck in traffic, it was cold, dark, raining, we didn't have enough time to sample all the wines... This time, we had a leisurely late lunch (after my audition) at Cracker Barrel, then drove over and got there right about the time they were opening the gates.

And I fell madly in love while there. With a wine. This wine is AMAZING. It is infused with chocolate. A wine. And chocolate. Mated to create a beautiful dessert wine that is like a good truffle dipped in love. It's Noche from Coopers Vineyard (a VA winery). Sadly, they SOLD out before SB and I bought our bottles. Stupid trying to be practical. Now I'm trying to figure out how best to get my hands on this wine. Because, see, I could order it online, but then I have to pay $6 per bottle for shipping. And that's just wrong. I don't think anyone sells it around here (if you know, please tell me!), and that basically only leaves driving to the vineyard. which is a possibility, but will take time and I want my wine now.

But yes. It was an absolutely lovely night with gorgeous weather. We sat out on the hill, looking at the water, drinking wine, and listening to the band play music, except when "George and Martha Washington" were leading people in cheers. "Huzzah!"

You Wanna Play Capture the Flag?

Someone got here by googling "my bf's hot daddy." This search disturbs me. First of all, what does bf stand for? Boyfriend or best friend? Either way, it's just wrong. I keep trying to find some way in my head to make it not wrong, but it still is.

Also, Roosh V has a blog today about how men should try and get flags, rather than notches. Ie, they should try and sleep more with people from different countries to prove their universal sexiness, rather than just trying to sleep with the most people in general. I've said before, a good portion of his blog is masochistic shit from bitter, bitter men who date girls only to sleep with them and then complain that they don't meet any interesting girls... But this post amused me, not because I agree with it (because it's just stupid), but because it reminded me of why I was in the Sleazy Boys Club.

See, my friends in college created the Sleazy Boys Club, primarily because they act like sleazy 13 year old boys at times. Hitting on their friends, humping their friends, humping my Legolas poster on my door... I gained entry primarily because of my tendency to come up with horrible pick-up lines. Mainly my "my breasts are sore, can you massage them?" line and the "wanna boing my curls?" line. (Sidenote: I never actually used these pick-up lines. I just thought they were funny. So I read about the whole flag concept and I'm reading the comments and all I can think is "Wanna play Capture the Flag?" Which then makes me giggle even more, since I mainly played Capture the Flag with church groups. Which of course then leads me to the time when Michelle and I snickered through an entire worship service because we were perverting it in our heads. Yeah, we weren't a good influence on each other...

On a completely different topic, if I don't figure out how to destress soon, I'm going to go Lily Allen on someone's ass. (She has the whole song about "one drink more and I'm ready for action"). Only I don't need the drink. I seriously thought about hitting this woman on the metro yesterday who apparently, although she looked to be in her early forties, was six, as she kept glaring at me and shoving her bag into me because I was, I don't know, on the metro. Standing close to her, largely because there were 349083409 other people on the metro and I had no choice. Whatever. But her ridiculousness plus my crankiness due to stress could have lead to a showdown... Hopefully, this weekend I can make decisions (I'm going to look at a room in a house that sounds PERFECT! I hope I love it... and a campus) and then I can tell my stupid bosses that I'm leaving and it'll be great.

Stop staring at me! (Or not.)

I'm finally auditioning for a non-church choir. I'm kind of excited, though I'd be more excited if I didn't have to sing my prepared piece acappella. I'm not a big fan of that. Especially since I tend to go sharp when nervous. Plus I have to drive into DC and every time I've tried to go somewhere in particular, particularly places in NW, I get lost. Luckily, the common factor seems to be trying to take 395 into the city, and this time I get to take 50. I can handle that. I hope. Otherwise I guess I'll just be massively late.

I was reading an article on how young people have a completely different idea of privacy than those in their mid-30's. I would link to it, but I'm too lazy. It was interesting, though. I mean, even when I wrote in my diary, I imagined an audience. This blog is just an expansion of that. Does that mean that I was already being impacted by a new thought on privacy when I was only 10? I mean, the internet wasn't really popular then... Did people in previous eras NOT imagine that someone, someday would read what they had written?

Then there is the whole fact that we all basically expect every aspect of our lives to be recorded. By someone at least. I wonder, though, if my age group in particular is more or less circumspect when it comes to what we put online. I wouldn't post anything on any social networking site that I didn't want future bosses to see. Well, that's not entirely true. It probably wouldn't look great all my complaining on here about my job. But if they did see it, I'd be perfectly willing to discuss why I wrote what I did. I definitely wouldn't put up anything that could get me fired. Although these days, anything you put up could get you fired, it seems. Either way, I'm always aware that someone might read stuff, or find pictures, or decide to stalk and eat me. Whatev.

The future LOOMS

Apparently this week is National AmeriCorps week. As an alum, I guess I could do something, but seeing as how I hated my stint in AmeriCorps and only know a few people who enjoyed theirs, I think I'd better not. In AmeriCorps defense, though, I did VISTA (where you do an office job for a non-profit, thus indirect service), which has to be the most confused, least defined of all the AmeriCorps types. I think plain AmeriCorps and NCCC can provide participants with wonderful experiences. VISTA seems to be hit or miss. And I definitely missed.

So I've started looking at housing stuff and I'm getting a little more excited. I definitely want to be on the metro, and it looks like I can be. Whee!! Though then I'll be further away from where I'm taking my weaving class... which makes me sad, since I really kind of want to take the four shaft weaving. See, I took the rigid heddle class because I thought four shaft automatically meant floor looms. But NO! They are these adorable little table looms and I want to work on one and then I want to buy one and it'll be great. And cute. I think I may be in love with these looms. Lust, at least. Which reminds me... I need to steal a marker from work. Our assignment this week is to weave a circle, and I need to mark the warp!

Walking on Coals

I woke up to a rather strange situation this morning. Zach Braff was on my radio station. Now this might not seem strange. Afterall, his movie is coming out today, it's logical to think that he might be out promoting it. But I listen to a country station to wake up with. And Mr. Braff and country music don't seem to go together so well. Though he did start singing some old school country music...

Last night reminded me why I love Pam on The Office. Basically, she expresses everything I hate about my job without me having to figure it out by myself. She's much more unsure of herself in general than I am, but otherwise, we don't seem so different. She had a whole rant about feeling invisible in the office, like she didn't even matter, and a part of me said, "yes! That's a good part of what I hate here!!" Not that even most of my coworkers ignore me. It's just the attitude that if there is something boring, something no one else wants to do and something that requires no real intellect, it's automatically your responsibility. The thought that you don't deserve somehow the same respect that everyone else gets. My boss has shown me that over and over again, somehow thinking that I won't notice. Which of course is untrue. I mean, give me a break. The woman has done great things in her past, but she's not of the highest intellectual caliber. And she looks down on me? Treats me like I can't figure out the smallest thing? Acts like I am only good for insignificant work? Work, I might add, if undone would cause her great problems in her life... Whatever. But yes. So all the Pams out there, I understand!!! And all you non-Pams... don't think you're better than we are. Because you need us more than you know. And soon, I shall be a non-Pam again. I can't wait.

Exhouncy

So I can't decide if I'm exhausted or bouncy. I declare myself to be exhouncy! I shouldn't be exhausted. I feel asleep at freaking 10:30 last night. I did work out like mad. Seriously. I have got to learn to pace myself more. Though if I hadn't been so tired, I might have gotten in a fight with obnoxious woman who WOULD NOT GET OFF THE MACHINE that I wanted to use. I mean, come on. If you can do like 10 sets on one machine, you clearly are not lifting enough. And it's just rude when 9 people are hovering for that same machine. When she got up, I expected a mad scuffle. I graciously got on one of the other machines that I like, abandoned by a man who was going for the other.

I also shouldn't be bouncy. I woke up with a mad headache and then spend the morning looking at possible apartments only to realize that moving is going to be REALLY expensive. Sigh. But while I enjoy my neighborhood muchly and while my rent is reasonable and does not go up because I have a cat, the commute for school would be hell, no matter which school I choose. So onto Craigslist I shall go. The thing that I don't like is that Craigslist seems to be more current. As in if I wanted an apartment in the next three weeks, I could apply. I'd like to have things settled before hand. And if I could be by a metro... Sigh... that would be a dream come true.

Though, if I were by a metro, I wouldn't get the sights I do at the Pentagon. For example. For the past two days, there has been a woman standing by the metro, holding a "welcome, all Congressional Staffers" sign. I have never seen someone look less happy to be out there, holding a sign and welcoming staffers. She stands there with a frowny pathetic face, reminiscent of Eeyore, "welcoming" Hill staff.

Mystery solved!

I have found out where my missing socks go!!! Apparently, this guy is stealing them. I don't know why this is so funny to me. Maybe the mental picture of police following a trail of socks. Maybe it's the mental picture of the thief trying to worm his way through a basement window, socks in hand. Whatever. It makes me giggle.

What did not make me giggle was waking up to loud crashing this morning. Cassie, in her oh-so-fluffy cuteness, decided that what she wanted to do at 6 in the morning was kill my plants. I had these cute little pots with these newly burgeoning plants. Did she eat them? No. I could handle her eating them. Eating them would be less messy and at least my poor little plants would be dying for a cause, rather than just being wasted. But no. She just wanted to knock them off the table, getting dirt all over the floor and leaving the poor little seedlings continued existence a bit precarious. And waking me up and making me clean up soil at 6 in the morning. She got yelled at. Maybe she learned her lesson. She seemed a bit sheepish when I actually got up for good this morning. Or maybe I'll come home to find them once again on the floor. I'd move them, but it's the only place that gets sun...

Hidden Insults

My boss just walked by and told me that she "liked me so much better with short hair." I'm not impressed. We'll just see what she says if I dye it all funky.

So, yeah, I'm totally stressed out. This whole thing with SB (still in limbo) is driving me nuts. I might just resolve it all by killing him. Not really, because then I'd be really sad AND in jail, but some shaking might occur. Or beating with a pillow. Also, I'm still trying to decide on which school. It's between two, my first choice, and my second. Now, you could say that I should automatically go with my first choice. But should I? I picked it as my first primarily on gut reaction. Now I have to put thought into it. I've talked to current students there. My second choice students have not gotten back to me. Which is a negative in their column. I'd have to move for second choice. But second choice is bigger, has more options for classes, and a better career guidance organization. First choice is smaller, which means fewer options but also more personal attention. It would be a different experience after a big school for undergrad. It is a bigger name school, which would look good on my resume. It doesn't have much career guidance. Costs are comparable. It's all just confusing. I feel like Rory Gilmore with her lists...

Which, speaking of... I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY ARE ENDING THE SHOW!!! And only two weeks before the last episode?! I needed time to say goodbye. Two weeks is not enough goodbye time. The Gilmore Girls is now a part of my life. There shall be a hole in my life which cannot be filled by any sitcom. I may just give up on non-documentary tv...

Dissertation on Love

I had a lovely chat with Emily last night. We, not surprisingly, wound up talking about relationship stuff (there was much awwing on my part. New relationships are just so cute!). I realized this morning, some of what I said might have been a bit bitter. Which is also not entirely surprising, considering the morass SB and I are still in the middle of. But it's not really what I think or feel.

We were talking about being in new relationships and how some personality types, such as me, can put entirely too much pressure on it. I remember a few days/weeks into SB's and my relationship trying to analyze if what I felt was what I should be feeling, if it all meant anything, if he was "the one." I mean, I hardly knew him. We hadn't spent hardly any time together, not really, and I was already trying to figure out if we should get married? Was I crazy?! (The answer to that was and is undoubtedly yes.) But the problem is, society and tv abound with examples of people falling madly in love immediately and knowing someone is the person they are supposed to be with within a few weeks. I'm not saying that there aren't examples of this happening, that I don't know people who have this happen. But I don't think I'm the personality type to let it. (Neither is CW, who, as she puts it, is "not sappy.") I'm too analytical, always examining everything that is happening to try and decide what it means. It's hard for me to just let go and be in the moment. But I think having doubts can be a good thing, too. It makes you examine things. It's like having doubts about your faith; questioning can point out the flaws, but in doing so, it makes faith stronger. I wonder if people who never doubt their relationship, especially in the beginning, examine it, or if they wind up later having doubts because they fell in so quickly.

The bitterness aspect comes in in that when we were talking about doubts, I said that I thought everyone has them (which I still maintain is true, at least at some point in the relationship). Emily responded that she knew x, y, and z who fell head over heels and were insanely happy together. I said I didn't think I was that type of person. And I don't know that I am. And that's what sounds bitter, but I don't think it is, not really. I think it's just a different type of love. Or maybe it's the same kind, but I'm afraid of letting myself feel what I feel, so I hide it from myself. Which is a distinct possibility. I remember reading something somewhere about people who, rather than feel everything as deeply as they actually do, try to suppress it to avoid being completely overwhelmed all the time. Of course, I can't remember where I read it, even what type of media, but oh well. I liked it, nonetheless. Either way, I don't think either way is better, just being completely sure is easier at the outset.

A Birthday wrap-up

First of all, I would like to thank everyone for their birthday wishes. I had voicemails from 9:06 on, plus emails and facebook comments and whatnot. It was lovely. As for my birthday itself, it was pretty good. Not the most stellar birthday ever, primarily because of how many things are up in the air, but pretty good. I got a lovely necklace from my parents, plus a drawing of my elementary school and some kind of fun class from my mom. I need to find out about the pricing on the fun class, although first I need to finish my weaving. My brother and s.i.l. got me a craft magazine subscription and a "Reasons to Cancel Your Subscription: the Worst of NPR Programming" cd, which I'm sure shall be quite entertaining. SB got me some rather nice earrings and matching hair clips... I also bought myself some yarn and earrings. Plus my parents flew up here for my birthday. I haven't driven that much in one weekend in a while... We went out to Luray Caverns and up to Annapolis and out to Manassas twice to get and return my dad to his plane. I went through a whole tank of gas and bumped my car up into the 18000 mile range. Yes, I know. I don't drive that much.

After seeing an article in the Post about sexual harassment of female bloggers, I'm starting to be happy that I'm not that popular. Which actually tied into a dream where no one liked me and in fact, everyone was mad at me and I was just hovering in the background. I've had very strange dreams recently, in part, I think, because of the heat in my apartment. See, they haven't yet turned on the air in my building and my apartment for some strange reason retains heat like none other. Therefore, my apartment has been miserably hot for the past week or two. Like 80-85 degrees at night. It's insane. But yes. So I shall take the lack of readers here as a good thing.

Me, A to Z

Because Jordan Baker tagged me and because all the allergy drugs/lack of sleep due to said allergies and the fact that my apartment is 10324890 degrees have temporarily broken my mind... I'll do a meme.

A- Available or Single? Um. Complicated. At this juncture, I would say no to both. Unless it's on one of those government forms, where single means not married.

B- Best Friend: Cassie. Or Whitney or Amy or SB.

C- Cake or Pie: Is it sweet? Because if it is, I'm all in. Even more so if it's chocolate.

D- Drink of Choice: Sweet tea, if offered. Or wine or a mojito (not only is it fun to drink, it's even more fun to say.)

E- Essential Item(s): Food, water, air. And books.

F- Favorite Color: Purple. For now. Changes frequently.

G- Gummi Bears or Worms? Worms

H- Hometown: Smalltown, TN

I- Indulgence: ice cream

J- January or February: Yeah, I don't get this question. Do I discriminate against February because it's shorter, or allow that Valentine's Day could balance it all out? And is having Valentine's Day such a great thing? But January isn't exactly a great month either. You're all worn out from the holidays, it's dark outside, there's not much to look forward to for a while... We'll call it a wash.

K- Kids: Eventually. What can I say, I'm a breeder...

L- Life is incomplete without: chocolate. Have I mentioned that I'm really into sweets? Because I totally am. And air, because without air, you quickly die.

M- Marriage Date: Hmph.

N- Number of Siblings: 1 and an in-law, who's rather short but whom I like, so we'll call it 1.8.

O- Oranges or Apples? Who could choose?

P- Phobias/Fears: Ghosts, failure, not death, but dying... losing loved ones

Q- Favorite Quote: I, sadly enough, don't have one. Feel free to leave yours in the comments.

R- Reasons to smile: Friends, baby animals, annoying people tripping in public

S- Season: Fall

T- Tag Three: I REFUSE!!! (Mainly because I can't think of three, but still...) Do it if you want to. And are bored.

U- Unknown Fact About Me: When I was little, I used to make up songs every day on my way home from school. They were awful. They might have been amazing, except that I also had the bad habit of falling down the stairs...

V – Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals? Who says I can't be both? You can oppress animals in more ways than eating them...

W- Worst Habit(s): Procrastination, overthinking, laziness, comfort eating

X – X-rays or Ultrasounds? This is just dumb. I'm going to go with Xylophones.

Y- Your Favorite Foods. chocolate, sweets, pasta, asparagus, broccoli (see, I'm not ENTIRELY unhealthy...)

Z- Zodiac: Taurus.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

So, yes, I chopped off my hair. I mean, to the point I can't put any of it up. It's a slanted bob, somewhat similar to the one Sarah Jessica Parker had. But a little shorter. I like it now, but I think I'll really like it when it's a bit longer. AND she totally agrees with Whitney on giving me funky red highlights. Which will be lovely, particularly if I get someone else to go see her, because then she said she'd do them for free. :-) I was a little insulted, as she said that cutting my hair took 10 years off of me. I'm not saying that longer hair didn't make me look older and more serious. But I feel I'm still young enough to not be too worried about looking older. In fact, for a while, I really wanted to look older.

Speaking of older, I am rapidly approaching my 24 birthday. Mere days away, in fact. I wish I were more excited. I blame a. getting older, b. all the crap that has gone on in my life lately, and c. I can't really think of any presents I desperately want. Oh well. My parents are flying up, fun shall be had, and cake shall be eaten.

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.