STFU with the singing on the metro

This apparently is "refer to old posts" week. Every once in a while, I'm hit by the fact that things have changed since I've moved here. I know, that seems obvious. A very "no shit, Sherlock" moment. Sometimes I'm impressed by how I've grown. Sometimes, I'm a little sad that things have changed.

For example, YEARS ago (the fact that I can say that makes me feel old), I wrote a post about a guy singing on the train. I thought it was awesome. How unreserved, unpretentious. Just a guy riding along, doing what he wanted. An attitude I still like. But lately? I've seen a few girls, singing along on the train. And it ANNOYS THE CRAP OUT OF ME. Listen, I have my OWN ipod. I am quite happy in my own little world. You singing a few lines off-pitch shakes me out of my own world. That makes me unhappy. Why do you think I want to be shaken out of my world? I DO NOT. LEAVE ME ALONE.

I've noticed that I'm getting crankier with tourists and people in general. Starting to understand one of my former coworkers who rode his bike to work primarily because he couldn't stand the people on the metro. Only days he didn't were when the trails were too icy. While I haven't reached that level YET (though metro? you are so on my list. Raising prices when service SUCKS? NOT COOL), I'm not that far from it.

Though I say all this and then the other day? I saw a guy doing tai chi on the metro. And I didn't get annoyed. I thought it was freaking awesome. Kind of gave me chills...

Bad Finishers!

Every once in a while, I get a crazy person commenting on my blog. For the most part, I actually kind of enjoy it, mainly because they are so out of left field and contain misspellings and grammatical errors. Because, really? If you are going to call me a moron but can't even use the correct form of "you're," I'm not going to take the critique too seriously, and in fact will mock you to my friends. Because I am THAT kind of girl.

So it is now that time of year when a young girl's heart turns to football/soccer (for some reason, my 10 weeks in England converted me to calling it football. Pretentious, yes. I accept it). I say that, but let's face facts. I watch the games when it's convenient or involved with a social activity. Last World Cup, my then-coworker and I watched a couple of games in the local pub, which led to the infamous blog entry on what not to tell your boyfriend. This time, I spent the USA/England game in a bar that was approximately a billion degrees, yelling obscenities and reveling in the fact that Lampard again could not finish. I was rather upset since I'd just gotten my hair done, and the temperature in teh bar immediately made my hair frizz up so I went from having smooth, hot wavy hair to having a bizarre Bozofro. It was not attractive, I'm not going to lie. And I still haven't decided if I like the cut or not. I then was forced to drink to forget the crazy hair (Note to self: Just because you CAN shoot whiskey does not mean you SHOULD). I also ran into a girl I knew through X, which was rather surreal. Can't quite decide how I feel about it. I like her, I always thought she and her roommate were lots of fun. But seeing her dredges up feelings ONCE AGAIN that I thought I was over with.

Saturday was also the beginning of knit in public day. I know, you're saying "It's a day. It should just LAST a day." I agree, and unless I wasn't paying attention, it was last year. But instead, somehow KIPD has turned into a week. So tomorrow I'm celebrating by knitting on a brand new scarf (path of flowers). Luckily I haven't gotten far into it (and by not far, I mean I'm ALMOST done casting on), so I should be able to knit and make small talk. Which is good because my other project (I'm also mid-casting on) is easier, but I broke the needles and am waiting on my replacement from KnitPicks. I'm gradually getting more and more yarn and one day, I'll be on "Hoarders" sobbing as they try to get me to give up my Wollmeise.

Writer for Hire

I love my neighborhood. I mean, like really love it. Every day, I walk by a crazy kangaroo statue, a bunch of purple houses, various hippies. But one of my favorite things I walk by is a simple sign. but here's the thing. The sign is an office sign, hanging out like an advertisement. Not that unusual, but this one? Is for a writer. That's right, the sign says, "Someone's Name, Writer." And every time I see this sign, it makes me wonder. (Well, not every time. Sometimes I'm thinking about breakfast or coffee or that I'm going to be late or that I like my shoes or wondering about why soft cheese is soft.) But a good portion of the time, I look at it and think, "Why does a writer need a sign?" Are there people out there going, "I need a writer... LOOK. A sign! I'll hire him!" What kind of writer is he? Is he a technical writer, fiction, non-fiction, political biographer? It is so confusing. I feel like I should go talk to this guy and ask him these questions. But then I wouldn't have anything to think about when I walk by (except for the previously mentioned meanderings of my mind).

And it's nice to have these distractions, as some things have happened lately that have made me once again very angry at X. I mean, furious. I did see him a couple of weeks ago. We ignored each other (he even ducked. I mean, HE DUCKED. Dumbass. Did he really think that I wasn't going to recognize him). I did and do judge him harshly for the ducking, but given my resurgence of righteous anger, perhaps he was wise. I wouldn't mind beating the shit out of him, and then siccing Stephie on him. He should and hopefully does know that he deserves it. The only good thing is that I didn't expect anything more from him, and I don't have to be disappointed by his behavior.

Inane Friendship ramblings

I've had like a billion things to post. First adult trip to the ER, FTW! I sliced my finger open, drove myself, got four stitches, later took out my own stitches (not my number one choice, but had to be done). I felt very independent. Like, look. I could have support and a boyfriend or something to help by at least driving me to the ER (probably the one supportive thing X would have done. Boy could not deal with difficult things AT ALL. Apparently still can't, after the whole October debacle). But I didn't need that. I stayed calm, I did try to call cabs (note to self: get local cab numbers to put on fridge), I didn't do anything dumb, I remembered to take the cookies out that I was baking so I didn't burn the whole place down.

Basically right now I'm happy being single, but not satisfied, if that makes sense. I have some lovely friends, some of whom I mainly interact with online but whom I still love. I do kind of wish I lived out in Loudoun. because I swear, some of those girls are my soulmates. I'd like ot have a local best friend, but you know? Having some good local friends and some good long-distance friends is working okay.

It is kind of funny to realize that I had better taste in friends as a kid then I do now. I mean, I have met some amazing people as an adult. But I've also met some people that I trusted wrongly. Some people I thought liked me for me. And then I've been wrong, and then I get hurt. And then I tell my high school friends about the whole thing, and they are still amazing. They still reassure me about who I am, and that I am a good and likeable and loveable person. I love that about my old friends. I love that about some of my new friends, too.

As a side note, tourists? I HATE YOU. I might not actually whack you with a bag or anything, but do not doubt that I am thinking about it. Guy whose bag kept hitting me today? I'm looking at you especially hard.

RAAAAAWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!

RAAAAAWWWWRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!
Originally uploaded by mewmewbecky

This lovely drawing was done by my friend/doppelganger Becky. Sadly, there was no drinking (at least on my part) when we came up with the idea for Ursa Imgonnaeatyou (real name has not been decided, though Bear Gunn has been discussed). picture this, if you will. A seal doing the skeleton race, followed by a land shark, followed by this bear.

yes, we may have lost our minds. I'm okay with that.

Pardon me, have you seen my sanity?

I have lost my freaking mind. Cabin fever? people asked, and I scoffed. I LIKE being inside. I have books and knitting and spinning. I'll be FINE. Ah, the words of the braggart. The naive young girl that I was a week ago. When my biggest worry was getting snowed in with my roommate and her husband for three days. (I wasn't.) I thought this will be fun. I like snow. It's pretty.

And I am going insane. I hate my apartment, my cat is driving me nuts (except for when she's being adorable), I can't do anything fun because I'm supposed to be working. I can feel my muscles losing strength. Pretty soon, I won't be ABLE to leave my apartment. Outside will become a rumor, something covered by glass and kept away as far as possible.

Crazy, you say? Given that I started with me losing my mind, I wouldn't disagree. After all, it is only snow. Snow that must eventually melt. The metro will run, I will go into work and the city. I will see other people, make small talk.

But I have spent twenty minutes chatting with friends and saying only "sweatpants." They had a perfectly lovely conversation about differing standards of formality. I said sweatpants. All I can say is, "DON'T JUDGE ME!" It's the white stuff... I SWEAR.

A New Obsession

I HAVE DISCOVERED A NEW BLOG.

Yes I realize that it makes more sense to write about Snopocoplyse II (or SnoWTF or SnOMG), as I like to call it. but really. It snowed. Lots. It's still snowing. I'm inside with power. My car is literally buried under the snow, meaning I shall not be able to dig it out for days. Luckily I commute using public transit which is also buried, but which I don't have to dig out. The end.

While I have been stuck inside, though, watching my neighbors molest the poor tree outside my window (seriously. They were sitting on it. Poor tree is going to be traumatized. I wanted to take a picture, but then I'd be the crazy girl taking pictures of them through the window. Which I'd be more okay with if I weren't still in pajamas with gross hair.), I've been reading Hyperbole and a Half. My friend Stephie mentioned it last night in order to distract me from the fact that I still don't have the yarn she promised to send me like a whole TWO DAYS AGO. (Kitten, I still heart you. In fact, you might be one of my favorite imaginary people I only know on the internet.)

But yes. So I've been reading through the archives, and Allie is awesome. I've been laughing ridiculous amounts reading it, and I never actually laugh out loud when I'm reading something funny. Last night, I started to do that thing where you're laughing at stuff, and then you keep reading and you're not even reading anything that funny anymore, but you still keep laughing and you're trying to stop and you make that awkward "I can't stop laughing" noise that's something between a laugh and a donkey bray. I mean, no one is here so no one could hear me, but still. It's the principle of the thing.

So basically the point of this post is to tell you to go read her. But only while you're alone in the house or around people who won't judge.

We're Melting!

I thought briefly about writing something about the State of the Union. After all, I actually watched it (something I don’t always do, since I then read about it for DAYS and get all the main points), and I live in DC, where you can even attend SotU parties and participate in drinking games (neither of which I did).

But then I read in the Post this morning that a scant majority of Americans believe in global warming. Apparently, the “it still gets cold, and hey, look at the snow” argument has convinced a sizable number of people that it’s all a conspiracy. Seriously? SERIOUSLY??? Please explain this to me. Scientists, people who are paid to study these types of things, point out that things are warmer. They can explain why there is more snow in some areas, and why others are colder. They can point out rising sea levels. And yet Joe Schmo thinks, “Florida froze this year, it must all be wrong”?

And usually I wouldn’t care. Well, I’d care enough to rant about it, and then move on. But this scares me. Because I firmly believe that if we don’t do something soon, it could be too late. And I know that the massive changes probably won’t happen until I’m dead, but that they will happen in the next generation’s lifetimes. And that’s not acceptable.

I do recognize the difficulty in ecological changes. The mountaintop mining in West Virginia is a perfect example. Blowing up the tops of mountains to get at coal seems like an obvious “this has to be bad for the environment” example. Yet there are lots of people protesting the EPA’s rulings not allowing all of these mines, and while I agree that the mines should be stopped, it’s easy to understand why people are against that, since many of these people’s livelihoods depend on that mining. It’s hard to be gung-ho about saving the environment when it means that you’re not sure if you’ll be able to pay your mortgage or feed your family.

That said, it would be shortsighted to be so afraid of negative economic impact that we don’t do anything. (Which, actually, brings me back to the State of the Union.) Jobs are important, and I feel for these people. I would love to see some training programs, not necessarily funded by the government but by corporations (Ford, I think, was doing training programs to help workers they laid off), to help these people find other work. But it seems crazy to stay, “it’s better to destroy the planet, affecting billions, than to make laws and regulations that might affect the economy.

All's Fair in Love and Politics

I was going to blog about religion and religious discussions (which I adore and can hardly stand to not participate in). It was going to be witty and erudite and full of amusing anecdotes about duct tape and a brief belief in reincarnation. Aren’t you sad you missed it?

But reading the Post this morning made me want to write about something else. I mean, religion is fascinating and religious beliefs are at the core of so many people’s personalities, but religion is always there.

So instead, I want to tell politicians and political groups to stop being so freaking divisive. I’m so SICK of both sides excoriating their opponents, reaming members of their own parties who disagree on some issues with them. I like moderates. Moderates are closer to the majority of Americans than those who are more far right or far left. Moderates are like combining the two extreme sides and coming up with something that most people can live with.

This stands out to me more with Republicans in the minority in Congress. I’m perfectly willing to admit that that is probably due to my own political leanings. But don’t rail against the tools that the Democrats used to get their way when they were the minority, and then turn around and be perfectly okay with them. I admired the Democrats for filibustering judicial candidates. I thought it was a way to work the system, a way for the minority not to get steamrolled by the majority. I’m okay with Republicans now threatening to filibuster. But when the SAME Senator who previously stood up, declaring that filibustering Democrats were ruining the process when they disagreed with him, stands up and declares that filibustering candidates is perfectly acceptable and indeed should be done? That bothers me. When Republicans throw hissy fits about everything that Democrats say and do, and offer no alternatives, it annoys me. When either side sabotages their own members for disagreeing, it frustrates me. (The recent election in NY comes to mind, as does the threat by MoveOn to fund any Democrat who runs against a Democrat who votes against the health care bill.)

Senators and Representatives should be able to vote in the way they feel is best for their region and the country as a whole, without fearing reprisals by those on the extreme ends. I worry that as politics grows more polarized, less and less will be accomplished by our government bodies. I’m not naïve enough to believe that this is a new phenomenon. But the strength and impact of the organizations with the most money who are the most radical is frightening.

Gone hoarse

So I was reading some of my past entries, and I’ve decided. I have lost my voice. I blame stress. Or grad school. Or the stress of being in grad school. Either way, my entries sound so flat, so without that spark that makes me giggle when I go back and reread (because, of course, amusing myself is the true reason for the blog). So that is my new goal. Regain my voice and make myself laugh more. It shall be grand. Glorious even.

Of course, this requires me to come up with topics to write about. I could follow some of my favorite bloggers and write about tv. Except that they watch most of the shows I do, and there’s no way I can live up to that. Though I have to say, something about *Glee* was a little disappointing last night. I don’t know if it was because I had built it up so much after its baseball-induced vacation. I still love it, but they are dragging some of the plot points out too much. I want more focus on the quirky people! Let’s face it, I could care less about the cheerleader. So what if she got herself knocked up? She was only entertaining as a saboteur; now she’s just blah.

I did get one of two packages I’ve been expecting. Still no yarn yet, though, much to my disappointment and despair. No, instead I came home to a GIANT box taking up a third of the front porch, holding my still unseen dining room table. And only little old me to drag it in. (I looked at the weight on the side. It was 160 or so pounds. I am not that strong.) I kind of wish more people had walked by, since I’m sure the site of me struggling to shove the box through the door was entertaining. And if I’m going to be sore and with back twinges, I would at least like to have provided some amusement. I’m refusing to open the box. And by refusing, I do mean am being too lazy. Instead, I put it on the floor and unpacked a couple of boxes onto it. I’d consider leaving it as a centerpiece, you know, one that is a conversation starter and really brings the room together, but I can barely get into the kitchen. And while I don’t cook MUCH, I do still need to eat, so…

As for the non-amusing parts of my life, I am actually finding them to be sources of amusement. Which sounds strange, I know, but I do like watching drama even if I don’t like being a part of it. Since I can’t help the one, I might as well enjoy the other.

Life Lessons- A Teal Deer of Growth

My life has been rather full of drama, some of which I played a part in creating, and some of which is just life. I've been sick, I've been down in the dumps, I feel like I have lost my funny a bit. I knew when I moved that I wouldn't be able to see people as much as I had been, but I didn't realize how much that would make me sad. I need to find people up here to hang out with.

It's also been an interesting experience in figuring out who I want to be, and how to accomplish that. I've gotten flack for not following people's advice, which first of all is a crap reason to give someone shit, and second of all should surprise no one who knows me at all. Of course I'm not going to blindly go along with what people tell me to do; it's so not in my personality. It doesn't mean I don't listen to the advice, and think about the advice, because I do. It just means that I think that I have the most comprehensive view of things. like the whole ex debacle. I know that lots of people didn't agree with how I handled that. I asked for advice, and I listened to it and in some ways, they were proven right. But he and I are the only ones who truly know what our relationship was. So I tried to combine my friends' experience with what I knew as best as I could. And if that pisses people off, so be it.

Going along with the ex thing, I'm also working on how I want to handle things, and how handling difficult moments define who you are. One of the things that people were upset with me about was that I communicated with him at all. After all, they said, he didn't deserve it and was just being selfish and it was going to accomplish nothing. and while they were right, I don't regret it. I want to keep that naively hopeful part of myself alive. If he had changed and I passed up a chance to get back together, I would wonder about it for a long time. Because of how he handled things, now I know that even if he was smart enough to want to get back together, the issues that made me most unhappy are still there. I don't want to be the type of person who once hurt, automatically assumes the worst of the person. I don't want to be the type of person who refuses to see the consequences of her actions, intended or not. I don't want to close myself off, I want to remain empathetic. And that is what I am using as my lodestone. Last night, I went to see Dar (I HEART DAR) wiht a couple of friends, and she was talking about the origins of "The Mercy of the Fallen." It's a song I like, but not one I had spent much time thinking about. But the whole song is about getting lost, and what that teaches you and leads you to, and one of the things is hopefully compassion. I have seen an amazing lack of compassion this past week. Losing compassion is not something I want to happen to me. (Of course, I've also seen a large amount of awesomeness from people who want to help. Even if some of them worry a little too much about me messing up my life.)

I'm also getting better at cutting people I feel are negative influences out of my life. Which sounds uncompassionate, but I don't mean for mistakes they make, and I'm not cutting them out out of vengance or anger. But I don't want people in my life who fake friendship, who try to justify their behavior in any way possible, who are perfectly okay with hurting others. I'd rather save my time and energy for other things and other people. This is a cumulative decision after several weeks and months of thinking.

Most of all, though, I want to look at how I've responded to things and be happy with my actions. I know I'll make mistakes, but it's how you handle those mistakes that shows who you are.

Something Borrowed, something blue

So one of my oldest friends is now married. For nearly a week. It was a lovely wedding, though it is a bit weird to think that my friend that I met for the first time in third grade now has a new last name… *sniffs* I do love weddings, though, especially in cases like these where I am just so happy for the bride and groom. The wedding planner was a nightmare, though. Seriously not on top of stuff for the wedding. I mean, she was a freaking hour late. An HOUR late. We were only a half-hour late and we were 7 girls getting hair and make-up done. No excuses, no phone call. Just showing up like that was when she was supposed to be there. We get there, have no idea where to go, and the sanctuary wasn’t decorated. The limo that was supposed to take the bride and groom to the reception. Never showed. The bride had to climb into her new husband’s freaking huge truck in a wedding dress. With a train that hadn’t been bustled. The whole thing was ridiculous.

The wedding was quintessentially my friend, though, and her family. So not what I would have done, but as long as they were happy with it, that’s all that matters.

As for my last post, apparently a false alarm. There were one or two more emails, but I am not going to force him to communicate with me, not when he started this all. The majority of my friends think that he was just being selfish and wanted some reassurance or comfort or something. I didn’t think that, but now… Well, whatever. I’m not going to worry about it, I’m going to keep looking forward, and if he wants anything, he’s going to have to a. work at it and b. convince me that it’s worth it. I’m not holding my breath.

A Year Plus

So, he emailed me yesterday, basically saying a lot of what I had wanted to hear. I can’t decide how I feel about this. Of course, I immediately start analyzing everything, what this means, what it could lead to, are we going to get back together, do I want to get back together… basically thinking way too far.

But I am proud of how I handled it. Yes, I responded, being honest. I thought about ignoring it, but my reason for not responding would be that I was trying to punish him by treating him in the same frustrating way that he had treated me. And that’s dumb. If I hadn’t responded, then I would be thinking about responding and that’s not good for my zen-like calm. Plus I’m trying to make sure that I behave in a way that I can respect, and acting out for petty reasons is not on that list.

The question though is what I want to do. I thought about calling people to get advice, but I know what most people would say. Especially those who have only heard the worst parts of things. Though I think after emailing him, I am leaving it entirely in his court. And I am okay with whatever scenario plays out. Yes we had a great relationship for a long time, and yes we could get that back (I think, depending on a variety of things). I do still miss him, and it’s not just because he’s “in my head.” It’s because I miss him. Genuinely and frequently, which to me says something. But if that’s not what he’s thinking, or if we did talk and some things were just not going to be fixed, then… I’m okay with that option as well.

A year later

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year. 365 days since I’ve seen someone who was so much a part of my life for so long. Someone who was my absolute best friend, someone who knew things I’d never told anyone else. Someone who also drove me absolutely crazy, who would ignore me when I needed reassurance, sit there silently or, even worse, fall asleep, when I was upset, and who made me feel so unimportant so many times. Someone who yelled at me for being an inconvenience when I had sacrificed to be somewhere to support him, who so often wouldn’t make the effort when an activity was important to me, and who repeatedly stole my joy and excitement.

This weekend was a strange one, in part because my friend decided to tell me that she had seen him. with another girl. on a boat cruise in Annapolis. I’m not going to say that it didn’t hurt, just like I won’t deny that I still miss him sometimes. Actually, it felt like being hit in the stomach. Repeatedly. And then it made me nervous, which was unexpected. Hurt, I get. But her telling me this ruined the hopeful illusion I had created for myself that I will never run into him. That he has vanished from my life for good. It’s not like I didn’t expect him to move on. I would and will have no problem with dating someone when I meet someone I’m interested in. And I’m not really surprised that he found someone first. For all that I wanted to be the first one in a new relationship, I’m also the picky one.

And after some advice and love from my wonderful knitting friends (both in real life and online), I restabilized myself and am cleansing my mind of him. I mean, I am in so much better of a place now than I was when I was with him, especially towards the end. I’m calmer, saner, happier, less stressed (or at least only stressed by outside circumstances, like moving and starting a new job). We were good together, but I’m looking forward to finding someone I’m better with. No, I’m not just looking forward. I’m excited. I just hope it happens soon, since I’m also not particularly patient.

Whales 'R' Us

THIS makes me so mad that I want to hate PETA (Not the blog entry, but the topic). Except I already think they are crazy and awful. But still. This is a new low. Apparently while they are so worried about treating animals well, they could care less about people. Who thought that this would be a good campaign? What gives THEM the right to be so cruel and demeaning towards women? Jerks. This makes me even angrier than the Bacardi ad campaign which I am too lazy to relook up. It basically consisted of the "ugly girl accessory, the must-have accessory for the summer." I'm now boycotting Bacardi. And might hit any PETA people I see. (Okay, probably not. In part because I never see PETA people. Greenpeace, yes. I do talk back to Greenpeace people, and refuse to give them money or sign their petitions. Every once in a while, I tell them WHY I don't like Greenpeace, but they are all punk kids who have no idea how Greenpeace has acted in the past.)

Luckily my anger has been off-set by the good news that I have a phone interview on Friday. I feel so wanted... :-) I'm still hoping for the job that I have the second interview for on Monday, but it's nice to have options and to be getting attention from the job-hirers. Plus I'm going to have Five Guys for dinner, in protest of PETA's encouraging people to be vegetarians.

Taxiing

CW has yelled at me one too many times. Every time I see her, "You never post, the last time you blogged was in May, and it was about being angry." So I'm reblogging. Well, not reblogging, since that implies that I'm taking an old entry and redoing it or something. But blogging a new entry. Plus I'm about to be an attention hoar on ravelry, and I need a new entry for those girls to comment on.

So things for me are kind of in a weird holding pattern. Either that or I'm taxiing to the runway, to keep with the plane metaphors. I'm in the finals for a job that I think could be really amazing. I mean, totally a great opportunity to make it what I want, lots of writing, for a good cause. I'm trying not to get my hopes up. I'm close, really close, but I don't want to be entirely crushed when/if I don't get it. I've also got a couple of other interviews, so I feel like things are looking up. I just want it all settled. Especially since I have to decide on where to live... I really wanted to live by myself. Or I thought I did. I wouldn't mind living with a roommate, if they were cool and didn't expect much of me. I don't like feeling like I HAVE to socialize, though right now I'm totally undersocializing.

This whole not seeing people at work or class means that I feel really chatty when I am around people. I have decided that now when I drink, I try and make up for whatever I'm missing in my life. I get really chatty and huggy. Which is kind of a new thing. Not the drinking, but the massive amounts of chatting. I think I've been surprising some of my friends who are used to the more reserved me...

As for the ex. I won't say I'm entirely over things, since stress makes me more emotional and being emotional brings stuff I felt for or about him. But I will say that I'm 98% over him. I saw something a week or so ago that brought up memories of him and I wasn't angry. I wasn't even really sad. I was nostalgic. I smiled. I kept going. Which I think is an excellent sign. Now I just need to find a new guy. And for any rubberhoar who reads this, let me add a post-script. A GUY I'M ATTRACTED TO. I think I'm ready for it. Entirely and utterly.

The anger remains the same

So even though I've moved on. Even though I've taken what I learned and made a list of my new ideal (it's a good list. I'll talk about it later), I'm still kind of pissed. I made the mistake tonight of having a martini, which eventually led me to look at his FB page. He's added a picture of him looking all happy. Dumbass. I shouldn't be upset. All of my pictures on FB are of me happy. And several are of me with other guys. Of course, he's going to put up a picture of him being happy, but it reminds me that he is having a life without me. Of course I'm having a life without him. I do wish I had the hotter pictures of me. Sadly, most of them are in my friends' hands. I just hope that he knows I have nothing but disdain for him and his actions, especially since we broke up.

I have taken stuff from that relationship to realize what I really want from a relationship. Some of it, he provided. I loved the way he cared for me, kissed my forehead, tried to incorporate my dreams into our supposed future. Despite my anger about how things wound up, I do recognize that he did provide a lot of what I needed. But he always claimed that he couldn't be as exciting as what I wanted. I think he may have been right. Not in the way he meant. But he never wanted to do anything. It was a major effort to get him to leave either of our apartments. And God forbid I wanted to go to a party or out with my friends. He never wanted to do any of that. Or even things that we could do as a couple. I had to think of them all, and he was never enthusiastic about anything that took any energy. I want someone who is willing to go on a hike, or go out, or go to my friends' parties. It's not like I want to ALWAYS do that. But sometimes. So here is my list:

1. can make me laugh.
2. can help me take myself less seriously.
3. is willing to be social.
4. is willing to plan things to do.
5. will actually follow through on plans.
6. will help me to be more active than I would be normally.

See? It's not such a horrible list, although there may be a few more. (I'd like someone taller than I am, and someone who has a relatively strong faith.)

Somehow Familiar

The End All Over Again

It has now been a little over a week since I officially earned my masters. I've been surprised by how exhausted I am. I mean, sleeping tons, having a hard time getting motivated to do anything... I do feel better about it all, though, since I talked to one of my friends last night and she said she went through that when she got her masters. Actually, she said it took her three months to start feeling totally normal. So a couple of exhausted weeks is probably not such a big deal.

The ceremony itself was... interesting. It was weird sitting in the room beforehand, knowing that a. I'll never be with all of those people in the same room again and b. I'll probably never see some of them again. Some of them I'm sad about, and some of them not so much. Which isn't to say that I disliked them, but that there are several that I'm kind of indifferent towards. But still strange. The ceremony itself... dear God, it was hot. Every time the sun came out, I about died. And of course, I didn't want to have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the ceremony, so I hadn't had much water and by the end was rather headachey.

It was lovely to have my immediate family here. There was some back and forth about the travel plans, which always throws my mom a little off and made her worried and naggy. I felt kind of bad, because by Saturday night I was a little snappy and snapped at my dad, when really it was my mom who had worn me down. "Are you sure we should do this, are you sure we shouldn't do this, what about this, why haven't you fixed this, you know you could do something about this..." I know that she likes to have everything planned out and that she doesn't know the area and therefore has to just have to trust me. I also realized over the course of the weekend that I react much better to requests phrased some ways over others.

Then my mom and dad and I went over to West Virginia. It was pretty much exactly what I needed. Slow, relaxed. I spent hours in the hot tub, reading and thinking and processing. I think it helped me to finally get to the point of acceptance with the whole break-up. I mean, I still think about it, but... I'm over it. I LOVED seeing all the stars. You can never really see the stars here. There... so many. It was gorgeous. We didn't have cell phone coverage, though, which kind of bothered me. with everything around my future all in the air, I don't like to be out of contact. Not that it made any difference. Though one of my friends is really pushing for her job to hire me. We'll see. It'd be great, though.

The Madness Begins/Ends/Goes Round and Round in a Circle

Well, the madness that has been my life is... quasi-over. That's right. I turned in my thesis to the grad school last week, and my last final paper (EVER!!!) yesterday. I did loose math and figured that I wrote approximately 150 pages this semester. I do wish my final papers had been a bit better, but I just couldn't stand to care or spend more time thinking about them. Now I'm on to graduation! I don't know that it has entirely sunk in. I dreamt last night that the head of my program returned it to me with a bunch of changes that had to be made and approved by midnight, and it was 7ish, and everyone else's was fine. Needless to say, I was a bit frantic.

I blame the new madness in my life, which is what I was thinking about last night before I went to bed. The new madness is basically finding a job. I've interviewed a couple of times, but the problem is once you get to the interview, you're STILL competing against a dozen or more people. I'm starting to get a bit panicked. I mean, I don't really have a large amount of savings to carry me through finding a job, particularly if I have no real source of income. The current back-up plan is to temp or work at B&N again. Which reminds me, I should go put in applications for those soon. But neither of those are going to provide a huge amount of money, and I'm working my connections as best I can and not getting anywhere. The two interviews I've had haven't come from contacts, but from random job applications (ones where you can just hit a little button to apply).

Plus I'm heartily tired of being single. I know, it's only been 8 months, but I LIKE being in a couple. I do. I just haven't really met anyone else that I want to be in a couple with...