Last night was a lunar eclipse on the winter solstice. I hear this combination doesn't happen very often. I usually don't need much persuading to stay up all night drinking on a weekday so this excuse was particularly validating.
Because I have moved to paradise where 65 degrees on Dec 20 is only a little atypical, I sat outside on the sidewalk with Olive and some friends looking at the bright moon through the ancient tree branches at my apartment complex wearing flip flops and a smile. It was the perfect night for lunar gazing.
We made plans to move rooftop for some live musical eclipse accompaniment. The night had every potential for epic fabulocity. Naturally, as soon as we got there, the creepy warm temperatures blew in a foggy cloud cover from the lake that completely obscured even the outline of the moon. Even my will to cocktail suffered.
Luckily, my company was amazing (as usual) and a late-night Whataburger taquito resolved any disappointment. It was way cooler to lay in bed this morning and look at all the fab photos of the eclipse on my phone anyway.
Also, because I finally finished Awesome Wedding Mix 2010 (which, if i do say so myself, is so good I might even get some), I thought this favorite track was especially pertinent.
And now off to frozen Nebraska where I will most certainly stay "wrapped up like a child who has been in the rain too long" the entire time.
Just Like the Moon by Brett Dennen
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Making every possible mistake
My mum is an expert at giving me gifts. I suppose it has something to do with me being a clone of her, which makes gift giving infinitely easier. This year, she got me a psychic reading for my birthday. She went with since it is no fun to talk about your destiny by yourself, obviously.
I told this man nothing. Not a single thing about where I live, who I am, or what I wanted to know about. I could tell he was disappointed to have nothing to work with. But, i thought it would add to his credibility or lack thereof after the the fact so i kept my lips sealed.
Turns out, i'm not all that bad off. Saturn has flown the coop which means things should start looking up (though I can expect another rough patch around age 50...dammit!) I can expect to meet my life partner on a sidewalk outside a restaurant or bar...shouldn't be a problem as I do that sort of thing almost daily. Timestamp hazy, however.
Two things of note:
1. I am a psychological gypsy with a boredom problem who violently changes direction in life, sometimes without notice. This came as no surprise to me. Here's the cool part... We all have spirit guides that help us navigate the tricky waters of life. They don't always help you do the right thing, but they look after you lest you totally botch up your whole existence. Usually you get yours early on and they are yours to keep for life. I mean, they invest in you and stay by your side like a German Shepard or an STD that can't be treated with antibiotics. Not mine. Because I change everything up so completely every now and again, I require different spirit guides at different times. I chuck mine and get new ones with all my different life stages. This is quite unusual, according to Mr. Psychic. Right now, I'm stuck with Arthur, a pony-tailed intellectual, who "helps" me over-analyze and question things. Thanks dude, you're coming in really fucking handy. Poo!
2. You've met those people who just exude wisdom and experience, even at a young age. They have that look that says they've seen things others haven't and know things others don't. When they look dazed, it doesn't come off as lost and confused. It looks contemplative. I am not one of those people. I am a new soul. Lacking in wisdom, sophistication, and patience, I am attempting to take this universe by storm and cram in several lifetimes during my Earthly stay. I imagine the psychic was trying to come up with an inoffensive way of saying soul-wise, I'm a bratty teenage idiot who thinks they know everything. Luckily, I have the motivation to get it all done in a hurry so that i'm an old soul faster than other baby-souls. It isn't a competition or anything...I just want to know it all as soon as possible so I'm devouring experiences like Ms. PacMan. Hooray!
I have to say, I was impressed by the psychic's expertise. Still not sure i believe he could see my future but if he could get all that from a handshake, a wrinkled t-shirt, cowboy boots, and a hangover, he's doing pretty well in my book.
New Soul by Yael Naïm
I told this man nothing. Not a single thing about where I live, who I am, or what I wanted to know about. I could tell he was disappointed to have nothing to work with. But, i thought it would add to his credibility or lack thereof after the the fact so i kept my lips sealed.
Turns out, i'm not all that bad off. Saturn has flown the coop which means things should start looking up (though I can expect another rough patch around age 50...dammit!) I can expect to meet my life partner on a sidewalk outside a restaurant or bar...shouldn't be a problem as I do that sort of thing almost daily. Timestamp hazy, however.
Two things of note:
1. I am a psychological gypsy with a boredom problem who violently changes direction in life, sometimes without notice. This came as no surprise to me. Here's the cool part... We all have spirit guides that help us navigate the tricky waters of life. They don't always help you do the right thing, but they look after you lest you totally botch up your whole existence. Usually you get yours early on and they are yours to keep for life. I mean, they invest in you and stay by your side like a German Shepard or an STD that can't be treated with antibiotics. Not mine. Because I change everything up so completely every now and again, I require different spirit guides at different times. I chuck mine and get new ones with all my different life stages. This is quite unusual, according to Mr. Psychic. Right now, I'm stuck with Arthur, a pony-tailed intellectual, who "helps" me over-analyze and question things. Thanks dude, you're coming in really fucking handy. Poo!
2. You've met those people who just exude wisdom and experience, even at a young age. They have that look that says they've seen things others haven't and know things others don't. When they look dazed, it doesn't come off as lost and confused. It looks contemplative. I am not one of those people. I am a new soul. Lacking in wisdom, sophistication, and patience, I am attempting to take this universe by storm and cram in several lifetimes during my Earthly stay. I imagine the psychic was trying to come up with an inoffensive way of saying soul-wise, I'm a bratty teenage idiot who thinks they know everything. Luckily, I have the motivation to get it all done in a hurry so that i'm an old soul faster than other baby-souls. It isn't a competition or anything...I just want to know it all as soon as possible so I'm devouring experiences like Ms. PacMan. Hooray!
I have to say, I was impressed by the psychic's expertise. Still not sure i believe he could see my future but if he could get all that from a handshake, a wrinkled t-shirt, cowboy boots, and a hangover, he's doing pretty well in my book.
New Soul by Yael Naïm
Monday, November 15, 2010
To Get To You
Getting around in Austin, TX is a nightmare. Transportation in this city is so epically mismanaged and poorly planned that it has caused me to become enraged and borderline dangerous on numerous occasions. It is no wonder Texas has such a high rate of drunk driving.
First, the traffic is impossible. On the way to work, i zip straight there in 10 mins flat. The way home, on the other hand, is a painful, soulless stop and go that can be up to 60 mins of pure mind-numbing torture.
Parking is an effort in futility that usually leads to homicidal fantasies.
You cannot get a cab to save your life. I had an easier time snagging a cab in DC during the Obama inauguration in the freezing rain. Hailing a cab is out of the question. You must call to be picked up. There is a single cab company with 1 or 2 phone lines, likely manned by an unambitious, bong-hitting high school kid. These alleged phone lines are often disconnected and go straight to what sounds like a third-world country's IRS helpline. If you do manage to get through, the person on the other end usually hangs up before you can get your address noted. It is infuriating.
If, by some miracle of the universe, you do find yourself in a cab, the driver is invariably grouchy and rude. These men clearly need to get laid, which may be possible if they didn't refer to their unlucky significant others as "my old lady" and have permanent scowls on their miserable little faces. I promise...because of the rare treat of riding in a cab I am overly polite and kind to these people (without effect).
Walking, my preferred method, is possible. However, you frequently have to jump fences, scale cement walls, or cross interstates to do so. Walking in 110 degree heat isn't the most fun ever. Also, Texas is big. I mean, really really effing big. For that reason, you can walk miles and still only be to the next intersection.
The only mode of getting from A to B I have discovered is to fling yourself on to the cargo train that passes over Barton Springs occasionally and then fling yourself off the moving train nearer your destination. Hobo-ism is evidently the most reliable transportation.
These Old Shoes by Deer Tick
First, the traffic is impossible. On the way to work, i zip straight there in 10 mins flat. The way home, on the other hand, is a painful, soulless stop and go that can be up to 60 mins of pure mind-numbing torture.
Parking is an effort in futility that usually leads to homicidal fantasies.
You cannot get a cab to save your life. I had an easier time snagging a cab in DC during the Obama inauguration in the freezing rain. Hailing a cab is out of the question. You must call to be picked up. There is a single cab company with 1 or 2 phone lines, likely manned by an unambitious, bong-hitting high school kid. These alleged phone lines are often disconnected and go straight to what sounds like a third-world country's IRS helpline. If you do manage to get through, the person on the other end usually hangs up before you can get your address noted. It is infuriating.
If, by some miracle of the universe, you do find yourself in a cab, the driver is invariably grouchy and rude. These men clearly need to get laid, which may be possible if they didn't refer to their unlucky significant others as "my old lady" and have permanent scowls on their miserable little faces. I promise...because of the rare treat of riding in a cab I am overly polite and kind to these people (without effect).
Walking, my preferred method, is possible. However, you frequently have to jump fences, scale cement walls, or cross interstates to do so. Walking in 110 degree heat isn't the most fun ever. Also, Texas is big. I mean, really really effing big. For that reason, you can walk miles and still only be to the next intersection.
The only mode of getting from A to B I have discovered is to fling yourself on to the cargo train that passes over Barton Springs occasionally and then fling yourself off the moving train nearer your destination. Hobo-ism is evidently the most reliable transportation.
These Old Shoes by Deer Tick
Friday, November 5, 2010
Nighttime, A Love Story
I stayed up too late last night and it hurts today. It's just that I love nighttime so much I don't want to miss even a little bit of it. My 9 to 5 bullies my true love like a jealous boyfriend. It is unnecessary.
Night has all the qualities I like best: cool, dark, rowdy, reliable. I could go on and on. And right now, i'm wanting it...bad.
Night has all the qualities I like best: cool, dark, rowdy, reliable. I could go on and on. And right now, i'm wanting it...bad.
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Yellow Brick Road
I'm basking in the haze of hot sun and secondhand pot smoke at Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros the other day in Zilker Park. I'm stoked because Edward Sharpe had fast been becoming one of my favorite bands. I'm also a little drunk. I'm transfixed by the backdrop of the stage which includes a far off Emerald City and hills of yellow brick road. Because I'm a fruitcake, I start comparing my life to Dorothy's. This is easy when you:
a. Are alone at a gigantic music festival.
b. Have been sitting through almost 3 full days of mind blowing musical ecstasy, comparable in sensory bliss only to a lazy Sunday having sex on faux fur with Lenny Kravitz.
c. Need therapy.
I've met them all. The stupid, clumsy sweetie you just want to slap; the heartless one with such an impossible body shape getting close to them is an effort in futility and much lubrication is needed; and the cowardly lion (I've met many of them, in fact).
Which leads me to my Halloween costume...Lion Tamer. These brave circus performers are really just glamorous cat herders. While herding cats is something I'm not particularly fond of, the outfit is adorable and I like the metaphor of smacking around cowardly lions for the entertainment of crowds. Also, carrying a whip is rad.
After putting the finishing touches on my "bridesmaid dress turned sex-kitten circus freak," I think I'll have no trouble channeling Mabel Stark, the original fearless mistress of big cats, and seeking out some courageous kittens worthy of a good whip tickle. I declare this weekend opening night under my own little Austin Big Top. Like a what?!
a. Are alone at a gigantic music festival.
b. Have been sitting through almost 3 full days of mind blowing musical ecstasy, comparable in sensory bliss only to a lazy Sunday having sex on faux fur with Lenny Kravitz.
c. Need therapy.
I've met them all. The stupid, clumsy sweetie you just want to slap; the heartless one with such an impossible body shape getting close to them is an effort in futility and much lubrication is needed; and the cowardly lion (I've met many of them, in fact).
Which leads me to my Halloween costume...Lion Tamer. These brave circus performers are really just glamorous cat herders. While herding cats is something I'm not particularly fond of, the outfit is adorable and I like the metaphor of smacking around cowardly lions for the entertainment of crowds. Also, carrying a whip is rad.
After putting the finishing touches on my "bridesmaid dress turned sex-kitten circus freak," I think I'll have no trouble channeling Mabel Stark, the original fearless mistress of big cats, and seeking out some courageous kittens worthy of a good whip tickle. I declare this weekend opening night under my own little Austin Big Top. Like a what?!
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Hurts so good
Been in Austin for just over a month now and can even now only just collect a few sentences to describe it. In a word, "bliss."
Being away from my friends is difficult, as expected. I notice my chest clenches a bit when I'm hanging out with new people, trying my very hardest to fit in, absorbing information like a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. It is not comfortable. Whenever I notice it, I try to relax into it like my DC yoga teacher had instructed me before I left. In yoga, eventually our poses will become comfortable so we must always push. Not so much we hurt ourselves, but enough to feel a sensation.
And sensation is what I feel. Everywhere i look. Everywhere i go. With everybody i meet.
This town is simply lovely. There is something to do every minute of every day. Trying to take advantage of it all is exhausting, especially for someone so notoriously lazy. I have no 10 block radius here. It just isn't possible.
I often find myself in a moment of confusion as if I've overslept a flight or woke up and don't remember where i'm at (um...and it isn't like that happens to me all that often, c'mon). Like i went on vacation and forgot to come home. It is a strange sensation indeed. I guess it feels that way because this place doesn't feel like home yet. Whatever the reason, i like it. If i'm sleeping, don't wake me.
40 Day Dream by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Being away from my friends is difficult, as expected. I notice my chest clenches a bit when I'm hanging out with new people, trying my very hardest to fit in, absorbing information like a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. It is not comfortable. Whenever I notice it, I try to relax into it like my DC yoga teacher had instructed me before I left. In yoga, eventually our poses will become comfortable so we must always push. Not so much we hurt ourselves, but enough to feel a sensation.
And sensation is what I feel. Everywhere i look. Everywhere i go. With everybody i meet.
This town is simply lovely. There is something to do every minute of every day. Trying to take advantage of it all is exhausting, especially for someone so notoriously lazy. I have no 10 block radius here. It just isn't possible.
I often find myself in a moment of confusion as if I've overslept a flight or woke up and don't remember where i'm at (um...and it isn't like that happens to me all that often, c'mon). Like i went on vacation and forgot to come home. It is a strange sensation indeed. I guess it feels that way because this place doesn't feel like home yet. Whatever the reason, i like it. If i'm sleeping, don't wake me.
40 Day Dream by Edward Sharpe & The Magnetic Zeros
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Unsubscribe
Like any sizable life event, moving brings people together. I've had night after night of meaningful connections with old friends the last couple months. I've also had a handful of random idiots contact me with hope I will carve out time for them, time obviously already booked by my true friends.
More than once, I've gotten a text out of the blue from some a-hole I dated several summers before wanting to know if i have plans my last few weeks in town. Um, yeah...i'm kinda busy. (insert clubbed head followed by braindead stare)
I kinda wish there was a way to unsubscribe from old boyfriends, drunken phone number exchanges, and overbearing people met in bars. If i could just respond to them with a "Please take me off your list," it would sure come in handy. Being in the online marketing industry makes me all too familiar with CAN-SPAM policy.
That being said, if any of those randoms wants to help pack my moving truck in 100 degree weather and a possible thunder storm, feel free to gimme a ring. I'll wait to report you to the FTC until next week.
More than once, I've gotten a text out of the blue from some a-hole I dated several summers before wanting to know if i have plans my last few weeks in town. Um, yeah...i'm kinda busy. (insert clubbed head followed by braindead stare)
I kinda wish there was a way to unsubscribe from old boyfriends, drunken phone number exchanges, and overbearing people met in bars. If i could just respond to them with a "Please take me off your list," it would sure come in handy. Being in the online marketing industry makes me all too familiar with CAN-SPAM policy.
That being said, if any of those randoms wants to help pack my moving truck in 100 degree weather and a possible thunder storm, feel free to gimme a ring. I'll wait to report you to the FTC until next week.
Friday, June 18, 2010
Will you marry me?
Making decisions is one of my all-time least favorite activities (up there with hangovers, eating salad, and dealing with Verizon tech support). The last several weeks have been uncomfy, to say the least.
The logistics of scraping up my life, stuffing it into a moving truck, and dumping it out in another time zone are overwhelming, expensive, and all-consuming. Fortunately, there is Tequila.
Tequila and I have always gotten along. We became BFF right away and have stayed close for going on 10 years now. It isn't just alcohol...it is warm and soft, like a blankie or the perfect head-sized indentation in a lover's shoulder. Clearly, I've been intimate with Tequila. I consider it a friend with benefits.
Tequila is a fickle, cliquish friend, however. I daresay it can be downright bitchy at times and has bullied many of my friends into submission. I feel sorry for these people.
When faced with monumental decisions, stress, and uncertainty, Tequila is a rock upon which one can perch safe from and untouched by reality. Like many of my close friends, it has a dynamic personality that keeps our relationship healthy.
For instance, this unique concoction of Tequila and avocado rocked my world. We spent a steamy afternoon together and I fell a little bit more in love. Tequila is always reinventing itself...that's why I like it so much.
I only require salt when taking shots of Tequila. However, this salt foam atop a perfectly-mixed classic margarita was subtle, understated, and refined. Tequila always accessorized impeccably. Like a man in a conservative suit with clever cuff links, I couldn't help myself...I wanted it, BAD.
This papaya margarita from my company picnic was syrupy sweet, cold, and delicious...for a while. After a brainfreeze and eventual need for a toothbrush, I became annoyed with Tequila and needed some time apart to be with my other friends, Whiskey and Gin. Don't worry though, we made up the next day.
Thank you, Tequila, for being there for me during this move. You make making decisions the tiniest little bit less painful.
Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off by Joe Nichols
The logistics of scraping up my life, stuffing it into a moving truck, and dumping it out in another time zone are overwhelming, expensive, and all-consuming. Fortunately, there is Tequila.
Tequila and I have always gotten along. We became BFF right away and have stayed close for going on 10 years now. It isn't just alcohol...it is warm and soft, like a blankie or the perfect head-sized indentation in a lover's shoulder. Clearly, I've been intimate with Tequila. I consider it a friend with benefits.
Tequila is a fickle, cliquish friend, however. I daresay it can be downright bitchy at times and has bullied many of my friends into submission. I feel sorry for these people.
When faced with monumental decisions, stress, and uncertainty, Tequila is a rock upon which one can perch safe from and untouched by reality. Like many of my close friends, it has a dynamic personality that keeps our relationship healthy.
For instance, this unique concoction of Tequila and avocado rocked my world. We spent a steamy afternoon together and I fell a little bit more in love. Tequila is always reinventing itself...that's why I like it so much.
I only require salt when taking shots of Tequila. However, this salt foam atop a perfectly-mixed classic margarita was subtle, understated, and refined. Tequila always accessorized impeccably. Like a man in a conservative suit with clever cuff links, I couldn't help myself...I wanted it, BAD.
This papaya margarita from my company picnic was syrupy sweet, cold, and delicious...for a while. After a brainfreeze and eventual need for a toothbrush, I became annoyed with Tequila and needed some time apart to be with my other friends, Whiskey and Gin. Don't worry though, we made up the next day.
Thank you, Tequila, for being there for me during this move. You make making decisions the tiniest little bit less painful.Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off by Joe Nichols
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Moving too fast
One of my most difficult-to-hide-from-the-general-public personality defects is my inability to make decisions. I attribute this to my astrological sign. It's not my fault I was born a Libra.
Anyway, the other day, in preparation for my move, I attempted to purchase a car. My mom found it in Omaha and because I trust my mom's judgment completely, I considered buying it even without seeing it in person. The car looked beautiful in pictures and was exactly the type I wanted...small, red, hatchback, manual, low miles, ok price. My mom confirmed the car moved fast which unexpectedly kinda gave me a hard on. The salesman was also unexpectedly kind which calmed my nerves.
For three days, I was nearly consumed with this decision. I investigated every aspect...car reviews, insurance companies, car transport options, Kelly's Blue Book, loan managers. I knew this car inside and out. I decided to buy it! I would call the dealership first thing in the morning.
Naturally, the car had been purchased by someone else just 12 hours before I called.
In stunned disbelief, I thanked the man and sat quietly for a minute. I had been so proud of myself for finally feeling confident about a 60 month commitment. But, I also managed my disappointment by reminding myself that I, Rachael, cannot and will not make uninformed decisions. I cannot be rushed. When the time is right, I'll decide and not before.
This can be infuriating to my friends, lovers, and used car salesmen, I realize. But, like other things in life that moved too fast for me, stepping aside and letting them pass is, frankly, the only way I know how to react. Like other things in life, if it didn't work out, it must not have meant to be.
However, the next time a find a sporty little red rocket on wheels, I will wrestle anyone who tries to snatch it out from under me. I mean it.
Don't Wait Too Long by Madeleine Peyroux
Anyway, the other day, in preparation for my move, I attempted to purchase a car. My mom found it in Omaha and because I trust my mom's judgment completely, I considered buying it even without seeing it in person. The car looked beautiful in pictures and was exactly the type I wanted...small, red, hatchback, manual, low miles, ok price. My mom confirmed the car moved fast which unexpectedly kinda gave me a hard on. The salesman was also unexpectedly kind which calmed my nerves.
For three days, I was nearly consumed with this decision. I investigated every aspect...car reviews, insurance companies, car transport options, Kelly's Blue Book, loan managers. I knew this car inside and out. I decided to buy it! I would call the dealership first thing in the morning.
Naturally, the car had been purchased by someone else just 12 hours before I called.
In stunned disbelief, I thanked the man and sat quietly for a minute. I had been so proud of myself for finally feeling confident about a 60 month commitment. But, I also managed my disappointment by reminding myself that I, Rachael, cannot and will not make uninformed decisions. I cannot be rushed. When the time is right, I'll decide and not before.
This can be infuriating to my friends, lovers, and used car salesmen, I realize. But, like other things in life that moved too fast for me, stepping aside and letting them pass is, frankly, the only way I know how to react. Like other things in life, if it didn't work out, it must not have meant to be.
However, the next time a find a sporty little red rocket on wheels, I will wrestle anyone who tries to snatch it out from under me. I mean it.
Don't Wait Too Long by Madeleine Peyroux
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
I always feel the same...
I've always had a soft spot for the Lone Star state after spending my first year of college in Fort Worth. Also, I have an unexplainable attraction to men from Texas and I really like margaritas. If those aren't good enough reasons to pick up my life and plunk it down in Austin, I don't know what are.
I'm heading South (XSW) and bidding farewell to rats, douche bags, and a posse of amazing friends later this summer. I'm equal parts thrilled and terrified. Convincing my friends this was the correct decision was easy, for the most part. Austin is well-loved by most intelligent Americans and my clear penchant for all things Texas made my decision to move no surprise to most. There are a few stragglers that still need convincing however so here's a list of reasons why Austin is the best place ever.
1. Music.
2. More music.
3. Music everywhere, even in the airport.
4. Handsome, tall, polite men with accents.
5. Real estate is heaps cheaper in Austin than in DC.
6. My name will likely be changed to something like "Darlin'" or "Sugar."
7. Tex-mex pretty much is the best thing ever.
8. Warm weather and proper thunder storms.
9. There is a lake upon which i may be invited to float.
10. Did i mention handsome, charming men playing music?
Of course, there are other things like my job and my ever-growing aversion to life in DC (i.e. crappy apartment, horrible dating pool, etc.) that contributed to my decision. More on that later, i'm sure. Now all I need is a pair of boots (and NOT the Fluevog variety). Wish me luck!
I Can't See Texas From Here by George Strait
I'm heading South (XSW) and bidding farewell to rats, douche bags, and a posse of amazing friends later this summer. I'm equal parts thrilled and terrified. Convincing my friends this was the correct decision was easy, for the most part. Austin is well-loved by most intelligent Americans and my clear penchant for all things Texas made my decision to move no surprise to most. There are a few stragglers that still need convincing however so here's a list of reasons why Austin is the best place ever.
1. Music.
2. More music.
3. Music everywhere, even in the airport.
4. Handsome, tall, polite men with accents.
5. Real estate is heaps cheaper in Austin than in DC.
6. My name will likely be changed to something like "Darlin'" or "Sugar."
7. Tex-mex pretty much is the best thing ever.
8. Warm weather and proper thunder storms.
9. There is a lake upon which i may be invited to float.
10. Did i mention handsome, charming men playing music?
Of course, there are other things like my job and my ever-growing aversion to life in DC (i.e. crappy apartment, horrible dating pool, etc.) that contributed to my decision. More on that later, i'm sure. Now all I need is a pair of boots (and NOT the Fluevog variety). Wish me luck!
I Can't See Texas From Here by George Strait
Monday, April 19, 2010
Not so incredibly terrible and awful
The other day I ran into my ex. It has been almost a year and we have not spoken or seen each other.
I was dreading this collision in epic proportions. I anticipated choking on whatever had just been put in my mouth, making an ungraceful run for the nearest exit, start shooting doubles, and then call my mom in a drunken, teary panic at 1am. It didn't turn out like that at all.
First, I was out with another man who might believe I was sent to Earth directly from heaven. He is forever reminding me that I'm kinda awesome and deserve to be treated as such. May the universe shower this man with good fortune and happiness.
Also, I looked pretty because I had been on date earlier. I'm not sure how much good karma i cashed in to make this happen but it was so worth it.
I was able to walk right up, say hello politely, and then high-tail it outta there with minimal psychological/liver damage.
Strangely, and most importantly, I didn't experience the icky stomach flop expected the first time i unexpectedly see someone that i used to love very much. I felt a little shaken, but mostly I felt nothing. And feeling nothing without trying to is hard to do. Trust me. I've been trying to feel nothing about this boy for a long time now. Mission accomplished, evidently. What a relief?!
Saying "hello" and ultimately "goodbye" can actually feel kinda like a breath of fresh air; like a decompression of the weight that can sit on your chest as long as you allow it. And that doesn't feel at all like nothing. It feels good...damn good.
So Long Sweet Misery by Brett Dennen
I was dreading this collision in epic proportions. I anticipated choking on whatever had just been put in my mouth, making an ungraceful run for the nearest exit, start shooting doubles, and then call my mom in a drunken, teary panic at 1am. It didn't turn out like that at all.
First, I was out with another man who might believe I was sent to Earth directly from heaven. He is forever reminding me that I'm kinda awesome and deserve to be treated as such. May the universe shower this man with good fortune and happiness.
Also, I looked pretty because I had been on date earlier. I'm not sure how much good karma i cashed in to make this happen but it was so worth it.
I was able to walk right up, say hello politely, and then high-tail it outta there with minimal psychological/liver damage.
Strangely, and most importantly, I didn't experience the icky stomach flop expected the first time i unexpectedly see someone that i used to love very much. I felt a little shaken, but mostly I felt nothing. And feeling nothing without trying to is hard to do. Trust me. I've been trying to feel nothing about this boy for a long time now. Mission accomplished, evidently. What a relief?!
Saying "hello" and ultimately "goodbye" can actually feel kinda like a breath of fresh air; like a decompression of the weight that can sit on your chest as long as you allow it. And that doesn't feel at all like nothing. It feels good...damn good.
So Long Sweet Misery by Brett Dennen
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Sparkly Red Shoes
The last couple weeks have been ones of pretty extreme change. Not unexpected by any means, but disruptive nonetheless. Knowing a giant upheaval was coming down the pipeline, I prepared myself the only way I know how…with distractions and denial comparable to psychosis.
One of my dearest and longest-running friends moved to Sydney, Australia. We met each other at my very first job out of college. I’d been in DC not quite a month and was lonely, broke, and second-guessing my decision to move to the East Coast. She was also a gypsy new to town so we had lots in common…we had both lived in Australia, we both wanted to save the world (but were finding out it was much harder than expected), we shared a love of long lady chats, and, best of all, we shared a love of cocktails in dive bars. We became fast friends and have spent the last 6.5 years working our way through countless of life’s growing pains and celebrations.
I was so sorry to see her go in a selfish way, but also thrilled she was moving back to Sydney with a man of unparalleled fabulocity and heaps of hope, wisdom, and excitement. The prospect of spending the next summer without her gentle guidance is terrifying, to say the least. (In my personal staff of life teachers she represents sanity, thoughtfulness, and Cajun food…subjects I clearly have not yet mastered.) I foresee many melancholy nights ahead. But, I also foresee fabulous winter getaways in the southern hemisphere and the new benefit of cataloging her wise ways in carefully organized email folders, a thing I’ve always wished I could do with some of our in-person conversations. Email folder titles will be along the lines of: Inappropriate Things Exes Ask, Red Wine, White Wine, Things overheard in wine bars, Wombat Sightings, Music I should be appreciating, etc.
I cried on the phone with my mom for a long time the night she left. To make her exodus feel less traumatic, I planned a birthday party for my dog. This was convenient because it kept me very busy with things that didn’t really need to be done. Hooray!
So, now that I’ve learned to make proper cheesecake, destroyed my apartment and then cleaned it up again, and worked my way tediously through several bottles of champagne, I think I’m finally ready to wish The Shazzer the best of luck in her new home. Also, I hear that in Oz when things feel a little uncool, you just click your fab shoes together and say there’s no place like home. Evidently everything gets way better if you do that. I’ll miss ya girl!
Wish I by Jem
One of my dearest and longest-running friends moved to Sydney, Australia. We met each other at my very first job out of college. I’d been in DC not quite a month and was lonely, broke, and second-guessing my decision to move to the East Coast. She was also a gypsy new to town so we had lots in common…we had both lived in Australia, we both wanted to save the world (but were finding out it was much harder than expected), we shared a love of long lady chats, and, best of all, we shared a love of cocktails in dive bars. We became fast friends and have spent the last 6.5 years working our way through countless of life’s growing pains and celebrations.
I was so sorry to see her go in a selfish way, but also thrilled she was moving back to Sydney with a man of unparalleled fabulocity and heaps of hope, wisdom, and excitement. The prospect of spending the next summer without her gentle guidance is terrifying, to say the least. (In my personal staff of life teachers she represents sanity, thoughtfulness, and Cajun food…subjects I clearly have not yet mastered.) I foresee many melancholy nights ahead. But, I also foresee fabulous winter getaways in the southern hemisphere and the new benefit of cataloging her wise ways in carefully organized email folders, a thing I’ve always wished I could do with some of our in-person conversations. Email folder titles will be along the lines of: Inappropriate Things Exes Ask, Red Wine, White Wine, Things overheard in wine bars, Wombat Sightings, Music I should be appreciating, etc.
I cried on the phone with my mom for a long time the night she left. To make her exodus feel less traumatic, I planned a birthday party for my dog. This was convenient because it kept me very busy with things that didn’t really need to be done. Hooray!
So, now that I’ve learned to make proper cheesecake, destroyed my apartment and then cleaned it up again, and worked my way tediously through several bottles of champagne, I think I’m finally ready to wish The Shazzer the best of luck in her new home. Also, I hear that in Oz when things feel a little uncool, you just click your fab shoes together and say there’s no place like home. Evidently everything gets way better if you do that. I’ll miss ya girl!
Wish I by Jem
Monday, March 8, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Password Protected
Working at a software company requires a relentless, mind-numbing tangle of security passwords that change practically hourly. I’ve heard folks of a certain IQ have a system that helps them remember all their passwords and keep up with the constant requests to create new ones every month. I am not of that IQ level and therefore lack this life-saving methodology.
Starting in late 2009, after I’d been with my company one year and was tortured with a round of annually updated passwords, I created a system of my own. It in no way mediates my frustration with password masochism, but it does supplement my mental health.
I’ve started creating all my passwords with inspirational little phrases like “Itwillhappen,” “CalmandCollected,” and “Letlovein.” Not only do these meet the required length, they also provide hourly reminders that life isn’t as bad as my couple crabcake clients sometimes lead me to believe. Knowing that “it will happen” feels safe and motivating. I have no idea what I’d like to happen, but that one was my favorite. Every time I typed it I meditated a little thing that I hoped would happen, like making a wish. And, turns out, some of those things DID happen. Talk about taking the universe by the balls!
I still can’t remember anything, but I do start every workday with a hopeful little sigh. Every little bit helps, I suppose. If my techy co-workers knew what a fruitcake I am, I would be mortified. My next password update might need to be “PasswordwillNOTbesharedWithIT.”
Starting in late 2009, after I’d been with my company one year and was tortured with a round of annually updated passwords, I created a system of my own. It in no way mediates my frustration with password masochism, but it does supplement my mental health.
I’ve started creating all my passwords with inspirational little phrases like “Itwillhappen,” “CalmandCollected,” and “Letlovein.” Not only do these meet the required length, they also provide hourly reminders that life isn’t as bad as my couple crabcake clients sometimes lead me to believe. Knowing that “it will happen” feels safe and motivating. I have no idea what I’d like to happen, but that one was my favorite. Every time I typed it I meditated a little thing that I hoped would happen, like making a wish. And, turns out, some of those things DID happen. Talk about taking the universe by the balls!
I still can’t remember anything, but I do start every workday with a hopeful little sigh. Every little bit helps, I suppose. If my techy co-workers knew what a fruitcake I am, I would be mortified. My next password update might need to be “PasswordwillNOTbesharedWithIT.”
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Resolutions are for the delusional
Instead of coming up with a list of resolutions that have little hope of becoming fully realized, I have instead come up with a list of things I will NOT do in 2010. Not sure this is any more realistic than a comically optimistic, too-long list of shit I can only wildly dream of doing but it is a new decade, after all. Blind hope is one thing I do have in a world of constant disappointment.
Huh, uh….Things that will not get done in 2010:
1. I will not become fluent in Spanish. My only hope of doing that requires a 6 month sabbatical in Oaxaca and I don’t intend to do that until 2014.
2. I will not eat veal. It’s never been a problem before so why not throw in some low hanging fruit.
3. I will not acquire all my nutrients from Pasta Roni and other processed noodle meals.
4. I will not use Facebook as a supplement for real-life conversation. I will also not use Facebook for revenge/bullying/dating/shopping/blackmail/therapy/meaning in life.
5. I will not be proud that I’m now a Sephora Super-Duper VIP member or whatever they call it. Pride in the amount of money I spend at that store should not ever be celebrated (or even admitted to).
6. I will not make fun of Virginia. This is a tough one, but I have a new incentive to think happy thoughts about the state just to the south. There’s cheese and forehead kisses in it for me and so I shall hold my tongue.
7. I will not just think about responding to emails, texts, VM, and other invitations. I will actually respond to them.
8. I will not stay within my 10 block radius. I say this every year, but this year I’m really going to try to go to such exotic locations as the Botanical Gardens, the Smithsonian, and Baltimore. I also will not use all my vacation time going to Nebraska.
9. I will not worry about turning 30. I’ll just turn it and see what happens.
10. I will not give myself a hard time if I end up doing any of these things. Resolving to make changes in life requires a healthy dose of self-patience and forgiveness.
Huh, uh….Things that will not get done in 2010:
1. I will not become fluent in Spanish. My only hope of doing that requires a 6 month sabbatical in Oaxaca and I don’t intend to do that until 2014.
2. I will not eat veal. It’s never been a problem before so why not throw in some low hanging fruit.
3. I will not acquire all my nutrients from Pasta Roni and other processed noodle meals.
4. I will not use Facebook as a supplement for real-life conversation. I will also not use Facebook for revenge/bullying/dating/shopping/blackmail/therapy/meaning in life.
5. I will not be proud that I’m now a Sephora Super-Duper VIP member or whatever they call it. Pride in the amount of money I spend at that store should not ever be celebrated (or even admitted to).
6. I will not make fun of Virginia. This is a tough one, but I have a new incentive to think happy thoughts about the state just to the south. There’s cheese and forehead kisses in it for me and so I shall hold my tongue.
7. I will not just think about responding to emails, texts, VM, and other invitations. I will actually respond to them.
8. I will not stay within my 10 block radius. I say this every year, but this year I’m really going to try to go to such exotic locations as the Botanical Gardens, the Smithsonian, and Baltimore. I also will not use all my vacation time going to Nebraska.
9. I will not worry about turning 30. I’ll just turn it and see what happens.
10. I will not give myself a hard time if I end up doing any of these things. Resolving to make changes in life requires a healthy dose of self-patience and forgiveness.
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