Monday, December 24, 2007

Post 270: In which our heroine is bored. Really, really bored.



Yes, that's right, I am bored. Really, really bored. I woke up at 8:30 this morning but stayed in bed until 11 because I couldn't think of any valid reason for getting out of bed. Then I sat around in my robe and drank coffee and ate bacon and checked my e-mail until about one, when I decided maybe I should take a shower and put on real clothes. Which gives you something of an idea about the pace of life here at my grandparents'. Which is why I am bored. Really. Really. Bored.



Also, I did something to my left foot at my going away party the other Friday and it still hurts. It doesn't really bother me if I'm busy and distracted, but today the mild little ache has nearly driven me mad.



Other things that have tested my sanity today: my grandma babbling at me while I try my best to ignore her and do the NYTimes Sunday crossword puzzle, the Christmas music my grandma insists on listening to, and the endless episodes of Card Shark on GSN my grandma mindlessly watched all afternoon.



I'm so bored I can't even think of anything interesting to write.
###

Sunday, December 23, 2007

The world is mine for the shucking



I'm currently up in the mountains at my grandparents' house. I moved out of my Atlanta apartment today, which means I am officially homeless, as my grandma so lovingly pointed out this evening. (Thanks, Grandma...that totally helped with the whole "What am I doing with my life??" anxiety I've been feeling lately.)


Meanwhile, my dad gave me some sort of grandiose pep talk about how the world is my oyster.
So while I might be homeless, at least I've got a really big oyster to try and crack open.



Awesome.
###


Friday, December 21, 2007

Oh look, I'm writing more already...



I told my dad at dinner Wednesday night about the half-crazy, half-serious idea my friend M & I have to hit the campaign trail in May when we both graduate.



"Can't you just see it?" I said. "Me & M on the road, doing god knows what, sleeping god knows where --"



"And with god knows whom," he interjected.



I nearly choked on my curry. "You're my dad! You're not supposed to know about those kinds of things!"



He raised an eyebrow. "Please."
###
Finally, finally almost done



2007 is quickly wrapping up: I had my last day at work yesterday (complete with totally hilarious PowerPoint slideshow presentation about me, and after-work Xmas party where I showed my true colors after a couple bottles of wine. Hey, what were they going to do, fire me??), I did my very last school-related thing by taking the GRE this morning (not too shabby, if I do say so myself), and CV and I continue to get weepy every time we talk about my impending departure.



Maybe I'll write more here now that I have a little free time on my hands? Maybe.
###

Thursday, December 20, 2007

Quick thought that sort of sums up everything in the past three to four weeks



Apparently hooking up can turn a C into a B-, but not in the way you think. Totally not in the way you think.

###

Saturday, December 15, 2007


IMG_5307
Originally uploaded by bonheath
A lot of people forgot to sign the memory book, but not Gray!

IMG_5409


IMG_5409
Originally uploaded by bonheath
Brian (aka DJ Al B. Hard) supplied the music. I thanked him by touching his 'stache.

IMG_5424
Originally uploaded by bonheath
CV and I share a moment last night at my going away party. If you weren't there, you missed a bangin' time!

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Life is topsy and turvy, even more so than usual, and I have all sorts of things due Friday, so I will be out of touch with the world for the next 36 or so hours. Carry on without me and I'll catch up with y'all this weekend.
###

Friday, November 30, 2007

A little more elaboration than the previous post



I think it's hilarious that so many of us are at home on our computers on a Friday night. I remember when Friday nights always meant...a lot of things that are kind of foggy in remembrance, but I know for certain they definitely did not involve sitting at home typing on a computer. Definitely not.



I knew my hardcore party girl days were numbered when I began to long to be at home in bed with a book or a notebook rather than taking another shot at whatever bar or club or party I happened to be at just then. Although I haven't gone completely boring and do-nothing: I was, after all, at a bar just last night.
###








Sometimes it happens just like in the movies.
###

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Post 256: In which our heroine catches her breathe



In the debate over whether Alicia Keys' single "No One" is awesome or annoying I was surprised to find myself squarely in the awesome camp while CV loudly pledged allegiance to the annoyed.


CV and I are starting to get a little pre-nostalgic about our friendship and how close we've gotten in the past two years. Every time we're together now inevitably at some point one of us will after, for example, a random reference to the scene in Footloose where Kevin Bacon's character plays tractor chicken for the first time (can't you just here "Holding Out For a Hero" when I mention it??) moan, "What am I going to do without you??"



But seriously...what are we going to do without each other?



In other news, Thanksgiving came and went without anything bad happening and not really any drama, so that was good. My term paper that almost gave me a panic attack was declared a smashing success by my professor, who thinks I should try and present it at an undergrad research conference in the spring. Less than 14 days until I am done with this semester. Life is pretty damn good.
###

Friday, November 16, 2007

I hate lazy people. Also, I am a lazy person.



I hate lazy people. I especially hate lazy writers, because the trick to good writing, like good acting, is to get the most meticulous of inconsequential details correct. It offends me when a writer has so clearly not done his or her research, especially a journalist, a type of writer who's life should be slavishly devoted to rooting out the most minute minutiae and reporting it just so in plain fifth-grade English.



An article in today's NY Times set off this latest bought of hostility towards lazy writers. First off, the headline is "Greenwich Village With Peach Trees." Kill me now. No, really, kill me now. I can just see the desperate-to-be-considered hip Ruth La Ferla (let me take this moment to say I do not know Ruth La Ferla, so I'm just guessing here when I say she's desperate to be considered hip. But I'm probably guessing somewhere near the truth) sitting in some godawful coffee shop somewhere in front of her white Macbook trying to come up with something resembling an idea. "I know!" she says to herself. "I'll take two of the most tired cliches in the world about two places that have more than their fair share of tired cliches and make them the headline. Perfect!"



The rest of the article kept me at a somewhat simmering level of annoyance until I read this sentence and bubbled over completely: "
The area, which radiates in several (though not actually five) directions from the intersection of Moreland and Euclid Avenues, languished in the ’70s as a refuge for slackers, students and punks."



There's a lot going on with this sentence that I have issues with, but the main issue is with Ms. La Ferla's patronizing aren't-I-so-clever-for-noticing attitude in pointing out that Little Five Points doesn't really have five little points. Well, Ms. La Ferla, if you'd bother to do any research or, I don 't know, ask anyone in the area, you might have discovered that once upon a time there were five points, but since intersections consisting of five points tend to be dangerous, the five points were rearranged slightly for safety's sake, with one being blocked off completely. Even the Five Points downtown (of Gone With the Wind fame) is no longer a proper five points of complete and total right-of-way confusion; it's radials' convergence was softened decades ago. You CAN still find a proper five-point intersection in Atlanta, but you have to drive back into the older neighborhoods to do so, and even these are something of a dying breed as they are quickly being converted into roundabouts.



So lazy, poor writing all around on Ms. La Ferla's part.



Although this is the point in the post where I must confess that I am something of a lazy writer myself, although in more of the literal sense. Instead of working on my term paper, which is due Monday, I have sufficiently busied myself in writing a blog post lambasting a person I've never met and probably never will meet.



Rock on.
###

Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Fickle



I got my hair razor cut today by a brand-new hair girl, which is one of my greatest pleasures. And this chick! This chick was amazing with the straight razor. I felt completely safe as she pulled the skin back on my neck to run the blade as close as possible without drawing blood. I adore stylists who've trained in traditional barbershop methods. They know what's up with short hair.



The only reason I ended up seeing this new girl is because my old hair girl got into a bad accident and can't cut hair right now. I'd tried to reform my ways as a hair slut for her, but I have to admit I got a little thrill when I found out I'd have to try someone new at the salon. (Of course I wasn't happy to hear my old hair girl had been in an accident, but thankfully she's going to be ok.) After a few cuts with one stylist I feel I've exhausted their ingenuity and creativity in regards to my hair and am ready to move on to someone new. And yes, this is probably quite indicative of my fickle nature in general.



The crush on the hottie at work is also dampening down to a very small ember indeed. He's still a hottie, but all the things that irritate me are starting to come out. Plus, I turned in my resignation letter today, so I'm really beginning to check out from work and Atlanta and starting to get super excited about DC. I'll be able to walk to everywhere for my day-to-day school and internship and grocery shopping stuff, which makes me soooo happy you have no idea. (I love walking, in case you haven't been paying attention for the past year.) Plus, I will have one afternoon a week to do with as I please. I'm thinking lots of museums for the first couple of months, and then as the weather warms up lots of time outside canoodling with the hot new boyfriend I have yet to meet. Perfect.
###

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Save the date



Friday, December 14, 2007. I finally get a party in my honor at 810a San Antonio.



Be there.
###

Sunday, November 11, 2007

Angry and armed with a pencil



Sometime around midnight, I stumbled over to the couch, looked down at him, and said, "Give me a cigarette."



He stared back at me, and I realized this was our first conversation in more than two years.



"Would you deny me a cigarette?" I asked.



"I wouldn't deny you anything," he said.



Later, around three a.m., as I stared across the table at the Romanian, I realized the absolute improbability of the whole situation. Who would have thought my whole life was leading up to this moment, here, in this place, with these people? I never would have believed it myself, if it hadn't happened to be happening right then. The whole of Friday night was like a strangely scripted dream involving jukeboxes and vodka tonics and a Frenchman named for Lyndon B. Johnson. The next morning, when CV and I awoke, we could hardly believe there were pencil scribbles on the walls, like an angry three-year-old had been at the party the night before, angry because we were distracted by grown-up things, angry because we hadn't given him the proper attention. Angry, and armed with a pencil.
###




Monday, November 05, 2007

Also



Moonstruck was on tv this past weekend. Best. Romantic. Movie. Ever. (
"The storybooks are bullshit!") Where is my one-handed, opera-loving Italian baker? I mean, really, is that too much to ask?



I'm driving myself crazy thinking about wanting a boyfriend lately. I must finally be getting over the divorce.
###
Post 249: In which our heroine receives welcome news; not-so-welcome news



The not-so-welcome news is, just so we can get it all out of the way and focus on the welcome news, fraudulent charges on my debit card. Boo. I've got it under control now, but identity theft stuff is never fun.



The good news: I was offered an internship position for next semester today, which I gladly accepted. Yay! I am very excited about working for this organization and can't wait to start, especially since I am training my replacement at my current internship, which is completely the opposite of fun and exciting. My current internship has been such a fantastic learning experience, but it really is time for me to move on to other things. Onward and upward!



CV and I are already planning my going-away bash. It will involve the
usual high-jinks and shenanigans of a Wednesday night out, so I can be sure to get all drunk and weepy and give some self-important speech about how this is the end but really just the beginning, and damn it! I'm going to miss you guys! I can hardly wait.



I was futzing around washingtonpost.com tonight and stumbled upon Date Lab, a column that sends people on dates and then reports how it went. I was mildly amused until I read about this date , which was eerily like almost every date I've ever been on, and not just because I was born in Asia. Are there no single men with ambition left in this country??
###

Sunday, November 04, 2007

It's November(!!)



It's November, y'all. Just four weeks of classes, a couple of finals and I'm packing up my stuff and getting ready to get out of here. For real. It's all hitting me at once and I'm nervous and excited and occasionally freaking out all at the same time.



CV and I had brunch and then spent all afternoon studying together, but not together. As in, we each studied for our respective classes. We both get more work done this way, and have someone to chat with during breaks. It's a little sad-making that I won't have her around in my day-to-day life much longer. Who else will stand beside me in the face of outlandish shenanigans? Who else will indulge with me in six-packs of Sweetwater and whatever beer was on sale on TV (Thursday) night? Who will join in my irritated mocking of the "traditional-aged" college students on campus (no, I do not think they will be any less annoying at this other, more prestigious university...just richer)? Can I realistically hope for someone half as willing to drunkenly charge the DJ booth and demand the Electric Six's "Gay Bar" in DC? Of course not; CV is the only person I know willing and able to do this (and more!). I will miss her soooo much come January.
###

Monday, October 29, 2007

Another quick thought before I get to work



I absolutely hate the feeling I get sometimes when I look at some pretty, popular friend's myspace or facebook or flickr and they have all sorts of comments from people reaffirming their pretty popularness. It's this slightly sick, slightly sinking feeling that lets me know I will never be as pretty, never be as popular, NEVER ever, not even if somehow I managed to surpass the pretty, popular friend's friend count, because while I might be mesmerizing and exotic and all the other adjectives that describe someone people want to sleep with but are slightly afraid of because she might really, you know, she might really tear them apart when she says she wants to tear them apart - well, I might be dangerously sexy, but I will never be wholesome or pretty like a dirty blonde girl-next-door.
###


As I sit in my slightly chilly studio apartment that used to be a porch, I can't help but think that if I ever live somewhere that is properly insulated and weather-proofed I wouldn't know what to do with myself. The fact that I plan to make a career of darting all over the world every few years makes living spaces with well-regulated temperatures a slim possibility, so I don't really have anything to worry about.



Tomorrow is a big, busy day for me, and I still have some things to finish before bed. I have to be awake at 5:30 tomorrow morning, 5:45 at the latest (!!). On the upside, it's finally chilly enough I think I can break out my new wool suit without overheating. Rock.
###



IMG_3105
Originally uploaded by bonheath
Here I am as Amy Winehouse. The wig actually stayed on much longer than I thought it would.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Friends and parties





When did I get 227 friends on facebook?? Who ARE these people? The thing is, I have actually met all of them in person. And 227 is really only a partial list. It kind of starts to boggle the mind, the thought of all the thousands (millions?) of people I've met in only 24 years.





Last night I went to Athens for a Halloween party. A few pictures were taken of costumed me at the beginning of the night, and once I have them I'll try to remember to post one or two here. I'm bad about photo posting, though, as you probably already know. I'm also bad about taking photos; it's not really something I do. My personal philosophy is if I have time to take photos I'm not using my time wisely enough to have the maximum possible fun. (Does that sentence even make any sense? No? Well, I'm blaming the hangover.)





I rode back to Atlanta with a girl I didn't really know, but who knows lots of the same people I know. While her boyfriend slept in the backseat, we talked about first marriages and boys who play games and self-esteem and depression and all those other things only two girls who hardly know one another can talk about in a car in the middle of the night. Many of my favorite conversations have occurred with virtual strangers, because neither of us has anything to lose by revealing all. We can say anything.





I made it into bed by 5, and woke up at 1:30 this afternoon. After showering and grabbing a cup of coffee, I met up with CV. I'd hardly seen her the past two weeks and was glad to finally have her all to myself again (yes, I totally got best-friend jealous when she and dude got together a few months ago, but as she says, she's "phasing him out," so my jealousy has waned.) We were supposed to be studying, but instead talked about the hottie coworkers we have mad crushes on and what's been happening in our lives. It was the perfect post-party afternoon.
###



Thursday, October 25, 2007

Another tv night



The problem with my real-life Jim is I don't have four seasons, plus the years of backstory, for our feelings to develop and grow for one another.



TV night makes me think thoughts like that.
###

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Ladybugs and crying



First, the ladybugs:

Why do I keep finding ladybugs in my apartment? What makes them want to come here to die?



And on to the crying:

With the new season, Grey's Anatomy is good again. 'Good' means I'm crying and sniffly by the end of the episode. I watch Grey's so I can get everything out with a good cry. The past two episodes have delivered splendidly. Also, I love the recent addition of the old guy intern. Brilliant!
###

Monday, October 22, 2007

You know that I'm no good



I thought I'd been so clever when I decided to be Amy Winehouse this year for Halloween. In the past week, though, "Easy Amy Winehouse costume!" articles have been everywhere. Since the thought of dressing up in a costume advocated by the likes of Ellegirl disgusts me, I've got to come up with something new, and fast.



I can't think of anything else, though. Would it be totally lame if I went ahead and did the Amy Winehouse costume anyway? I've been dying for an excuse to wear a beehive for years.
###

Thursday, October 18, 2007

Correction + My own personal Jim



I made a mistake in my previous post: It wasn't Thanksgiving last year that was bizarro, it was Christmas. I get my winter family holidays all confused sometimes.





Also, since I was sick on Tuesday, today was my first day working with the new guy at work. It took 16 months, but it's finally happened: I have my own personal Jim Halpert. Swoon! The other two people who work in our end of the office were stuck in a meeting for nearly four hours this morning, so I had him all to myself. We talked about our favorite places to get a beer, I showed him the powerpoint presentation I was working on (he was a really good sport about it, which means he has no clue how much of his immediate work future will involve the horrible powerpoint), and he told me about living in France without a cell phone.






"It was fantastic," he said, "not having a cell phone. I had already been there two months when I went to the movie theatre, and just as the movie was starting I had a moment of panic where I thought, 'Where's my phone? I have to turn it off!' And then I remembered I didn't have a phone."





We were both sitting rather close together in front of my computer at this point. He smelled fantastic, and I felt myself drifting dangerously afar from professionalism. I very nearly murmured, "Tell me more about the movie theatres of France" in a seductive whisper, but I managed to regain my composure just in time. Instead, I jumped up from my seat and blurted, "Have they shown you where the copy machine is yet!?" He said no, so in order to save face for my poorly transitioned question, I gave him a tour of the entire office.





Later, at lunch, he proved even more endearing. A coworker was explaining how in the morning's meeting one person gave grades to various soundbites in a video script they were reviewing: One phrase might be an A+ while another was only a B. Feeling saucy and extremely nerdy, I said, "Did the grades follow a normal distribution?" The joke flew completely over the head of the coworker, but he laughed immediately. (Ok, so it sounds kind of lame in the retelling, but it totally worked in the moment. Really.)





And all I can think about is a certain mmmarilyn who warned me, way back in March, to be careful not to find the man of my dreams in the weeks before going off to meet my destiny...
###




Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Midterm



It's midterm week, and on top of all that craziness I spent all of Monday night up sick with the stomach flu. Thankfully it was one of those 24 hour bugs, and I'm feeling mostly human again now. I also have a very strong lead on a very awesome internship for the spring, which has further bolstered my spirits. Also, Thanksgiving is only five weeks away! My west coast aunt and I are in charge this year, which is something of a relief considering the twilight zone episode that was Thanksgiving last year.



And if it doesn't rain at all in the next few months, us north Georgians could be out of water in 90-120 days. Literally. As in, turn on your faucet and nothing comes out. And there are no more lakes. Or rivers. Because there is no water. Thankfully I'll be gone from this place in less than 90 days, so I should have water for the rest of my stay here. But the rest of y'all are screwed.
###

Thursday, October 11, 2007

Wistful



I've been feeling wistful in general lately, not just when I wear a hat. The weather was finally truly fall-like when I woke up this morning. It felt good to snuggle under my comforter and hit snooze.



The (hot) (young) new guy at work starts on Tuesday. He should help distract me for the next two months. Just two more months, people, and then I'm off to finish my college career...by living in a dorm. Ok, so I'll be doing other things besides just living in a dorm (like studying and interning and whatnot) but it's the living in a dorm that gets me. I absolutely abhorred dorm life the first time I did it (back in 1999-2000), but I was a much less...tolerant person then. Plus, I was a bitchy 16-year-old. I'm hoping things turn out a little better this go round.



All sorts of people are coming into town for Thanksgiving this year. I'm taking the whole week off because I can.
###

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Did you have fun in the Eighties?



Before my Spanish professor arrived in class today, my classmates and I were discussing...oh, who knows what exactly. The point is, somehow the decade known as the Eighties came up, which prompted one 18-year-old girl, dressed in skinny jeans, ballet flats, and a Sponge Bob Square Pants t-shirt, to muse, "I wish I'd been around for the Eighties. They look like they were fun." Here she turned and looked directly at me. "Did you have fun in the Eighties?"



"I was...five," I said, very appalled, and suddenly feeling like maybe I should go to CVS immediately following class to buy some Clairol to cover my gray.



Even more appalling, I had said, not 30 seconds before this, that I was 24. 24, people! That's only six years older than Ms. Born in 1989. I guess 18-year-olds these days can't do basic arithmetic.



My horror grew when the professor arrived and announced we should get into pairs and compose a paragraph about what Atlanta was like 20 years ago.



"Who grew up in Atlanta?" la profesora asked.



I was the only one to raise my hand.



Ms. Born in 1989 raised her hand. "Excuse me, Señora, but what if you weren't born twenty years ago?"



"Well, use your imagination. Atlanta was very different in 1987, right, casetheplace?" La profesora gave me a knowing, middle-aged wink.



I was now officially the old lady of the class who could remember how Atlanta was back in the olden days of 1987.



Fantastic.
###







Tuesday, October 09, 2007

If I had to choose



I wore my new wool cloche hat today because I figured if I waited until it actually got chilly enough for me to wear a wool hat I'd never get around to showing it off. Cloche hat + asymmetrical bob + wide-leg pants = fabulous. The effect was very early-30s talkie.



When I wear a hat, I get a slightly wistful feeling that we no longer wear hats as a society. (Sorry, baseball caps do not count as hats.) There is something about a hat that adds a finished touch to any outfit and makes a woman look dressed. Men benefit from hats as well; they add just the right amount of sophistication and swagger to a suit.



Although if I had to choose between a society where hats are de rigueur and a society where a woman can be CEO or president of the United States, I guess I'd have to go with the latter.
###

Sunday, October 07, 2007

This pretty much sums up how I feel about Sarah Silverman.
A new rule



I have a new rule: If my couple friends want to hang out with me as a couple, they must bring me a date.



I'm serious. For the past year and some change I've been a very good sport about hanging out with couples. But my good sportedness is starting to run out. I'm only in Atlanta a few more months, and I refuse to continue being a fifth wheel for what little time is left - or worse, the only uncoupled single in a room full of couples. I think a string of disappointing set-ups is preferable, or at the very least different.



I've warned several couples of the implementation of this new rule this week, and the feedback has ranged from unhelpful to really unhelpful: "I don't know any single guys"/"The two single guys I know you can't stand"/"We never think of you as a fifth wheel!"



Ok, I understand all that, but really y'all, this isn't about you. This is about me. I refuse to spend another meal seated across from a couple while the seat next to me holds nothing more than my handbag.



You have been warned. New rule goes into effect...now.
###

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Passport photos



I keep thinking I'm going to go back and try to catch y'all up on my life, since I haven't been blogging regularly like a good little casetheplace, but then I get overwhelmed trying to think about where to begin.



So let's let the recent past remain a mystery.



I had new passport photos taken Monday. I thought I'd go to the place downtown rather than near my house since I could do it in between classes. I was pleased I'd made this decision when I saw the hipster hottie behind the counter. While I waited in line, I made up a whole little story in my head about how he was studying photography and played bass in a band and was a man of few words who saved all his self-expression for his art. I was glad I'd taken the time to comb my hair and reapply my lipstick.



The hipster hottie took my photo, but was unable to print it right away.



"Can you come back for it in a little while?" he asked.



"Yeah, I can come get it when I get out of class at 4:30."



"Oh, you go to school at..."



"Yeah."



"Me too."



I walked out of the store feeling warm and tingly, like I'd just had the best flirtation of my life (yes, things are that bad in my love life...shut up.).



When I came back a few hours later, there was no line, so I walked right up to the counter, right up to the hipster hottie.



"May I help you?" he asked politely, not a bit of recognition in his eyes.



Well. Guess who stopped being hot?



His hottness level plummeted to an even further low when he told me the photo he'd taken earlier had been accidentally erased and he would have to re-shoot.



My hair was, of course, uncombed at this point, and I was pissed that what was supposed to be a time-saving experience had turned into a time-wasting annoyance.



As a result, I revised my made-up story about the former hottie: His band had broken up, he took horrible photos with no focal point, and he didn't talk much because he had nothing going on upstairs.



I did manage, eventually, to get out of there with two correctly sized passport photos.
###






Sunday, September 30, 2007

Finally





I got drunk last night.





I pounded the beers back like I hadn't truly done in about a year, back when I was going through my season-and-a-half of divorce-related mourning. The past year has been all about making better choices, getting healthy, exercising, breathing, being comfortable with being alone, figuring out my next great adventure - where I must go to meet my destiny. I'd been moving away from senseless, ridiculous drunkenness and its accompanying bad choices and their inevitable fall-out. I'd been making progress. I'd been doing good. I'd been waking up hangover-free after going out, on the increasingly rare occasions when I did go out.





I think calling last night a relapse doesn't capture it at all. I think last night was...me reminding myself why I don't do those things anymore.





We had this whole other life where we were married, and we did things together as couples.





Last night I played the character of me as the heroine of a tragic melodrama: I cried, I gave weighty looks, I turned my body meaningfully to the side. When my nostrils flared with an emotion my voice could never hope to match, I knew I would have to see this histrionic mess to its contrived end. (It actually didn't end nearly as ludicrously as it might have; I awoke without cringing and with all my dignity intact.)





When I stepped outside this morning, I was glad I'd remembered my jacket, and I was glad that fall had finally arrived. The Endless Summer was over. I shouted a few niceties to the neighbor across the street before I buttoned up my jacket, turned on my ipod, and headed for home.




***





I'd considered abandoning this blog for good, but then thought better of it. Though I've been a horribly unfaithful poster, I do need this still - a place where I can be heard anytime, anywhere. But I do warn you, I've become a more private and guarded person lately (the above bit of self-indulgent, hyper-aware drivel not withstanding). So I think the nature of this blog, and the quality of its posts, will be different from here forward.





I've had so many things happen in the past month and a half. So many things. Fanastic anecdotes and hilarious incidents (because, as you know, I attract the weird), getting things together for 2008 (when I go off the meet my destiny), trying to keep my grades up despite having one foot out the door...
###




Tuesday, September 11, 2007

At the library...which is not quiet



It pisses me off that the shiny new renovated library at school is now filled with freshman who hog all the computers, thus forcing me to bring my laptop to campus. In addition, they love to talk--on their phones, to each other, at their ipods...grrr. The only places where I can get proper wireless reception is where they tend to congregate and babble. I hate teenagers---I even hated teenagers when I was a teenager---and this only makes me hate them more.



I called out of work today because I don't feel very well. I spent all morning in bed, and managed to drag myself to campus around 1. I can't tell if it's allergies, a cold, or just plain irritation that I'm still in Atlanta. I've managed to get a few things done school-wise, but not nearly as much as I would like.



It also occurred to me last night that I'm probably 30 pounds overweight by Hollywood standards.



Not having internet at home is also getting old. The Comcast guy is supposed to be out again today to fix it, but if I were my landlady I would have switched carriers long before now.



God, I sound like the whiniest, crankiest person ever. Let's see, some good things...



I caught up with some of my friends this past weekend that I hadn't seen in a while. I'm doing well in all my classes so far. My life is pretty drama-free as far as interpersonal relationships go. Life's actually really good right now.
###


Sunday, September 09, 2007

Trouble



When I was in Mexico, I had a conversation with two 17-year-old girls that went a little something like this:



First 17-year-old girl: Do you have a boyfriend?

(giggles from both 17-year-old girls)

Me: No.

Second 17-year-old girl: Why not?

Me: Men are trouble.

Second 17-year-old girl: But they're such fun trouble.

(even louder giggling from both 17-year-old girls)

Me: I've had enough trouble for a while.



Besides, who needs first-hand trouble when I can live vicariously through all my friends' troubles? There's the friend who is in the process of lining up a new boyfriend while her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend still lives in her house, the friend who emphatically declares her current lover is "so not my boyfriend!" while helping him unload boxes of clothing and his big screen tv into her apartment, the friend who has taken up with yet another balding dude whom she met through a guy who's heart she broke a few summers ago, the friend who can't stand her husband but would never consider leaving him, the friend who's husband left her but can't quite cope with the loss...well, the list of troubles goes on and on. It's amazing anyone ever manages to get together happily at all.



But even I can't remain cynical forever, and I have to admit that once the 100 degree heat wave broke last week, I began to feel a little hungry again for romance. Despite having a front-row seat to endless trouble, I think I'm almost ready to find a little bit of trouble of my own again.



Almost.
###




So I'm going to go all Perez Hilton on you...



...and type this from a chic coffee shop, although that is where all similarities end because said chic coffee shop is not in LaLaland and I am not a large gay man currently starring in a celebrity rap show with the likes of Kendra from The Girls Next Door. (Incidentally, I had a bizarre dream last night were Bridget was no longer one of Hef's girlfriends and I was asked to replace her, despite being brunette, smart and ten pounds overweight by Hollywood standards.)



Moving on...



I know I seem to have fallen off the face of the earth lately, mostly because I left the country for a few weeks, then have had internet connectivity issues at home ever since returning Stateside. School started August 20, with classes that are both reading and writing intensive (for example, I have to do primary research at the Carter Center for my political communication paper, which is super exciting but also kind of a pain since they are only open M-F 8:30-4:30), plus I'm preparing to leave the A (that would be Atlanta) in January (Ms. casetheplace goes to Washington and all that) which involves filling out all sorts of forms, plus I'm trying to get all my various documents changed to the new spelling of my name, plus I'm planning a trip to visit Loy in San Diego in late Oct/early Nov (I really racked up the frequent flyer miles this past year, so I'm flying gratis), plus I'm going camping in the Everglades between Christmas and New Year's so there's all sorts of planning involved with that (mosquito netting, anyone?), plus I'm sure there's something else going on I forgot to mention.



In short, I am still alive, just very busy.
###

Friday, September 07, 2007

I've been keeping to myself lately



I've been keeping to myself lately, which is why I haven't been posting here. Someday, when I'm feeling loud again, I'll be back.
###

Wednesday, August 08, 2007

¿De verdad? De verdad.



So Jacinta, my dad's girlfiend, has two children, a 17 year old daughter and a 22 year old son. The daughter is your typical moody, antisocial teenager. (While I've been in México I've been working on my theory about teenage girls who tend to the literary, that they can generally be divided into two camps: those who worship at the altar of Jane Eyre and those who consider The Bell Jar their manifesto. I don't know if Jacinta's daughter has read either book or not, but she obviously falls into Bell Jar territory, so she's alright by me.). As for the son...well, he's been trying his damndest to get me to go salsa dancing with him since we arrived last week.





I know what you're thinking, but let me be clear - Jacinta's son is no Rico Suave. He's the Méxican equivalent of Burt Reynolds in Smokey and the Bandit, minus the moustache. He even drives a truck for a living. Thankfully I don't have to pretend that I don't understand him, because he speaks so fast and with such a heavy accent even his own mother can barely figure out what the hell he´s saying. I just stare blankly at him and occasionally mumble a¨"No sé."



We´ve taken lots of pictures, and a lot of them are really good, but my dad still uses a 35mm camera, so I won't be posting any until after we return.



Tonight we went to the movies and saw Los simpsons: La pélicula. It was the perfect movie for me to see dubbed into Spanish because I already know the characters like they are my own family and so many of the jokes are visual that I had no trouble following along. I'm hoping to see Harry Potter in Spanish also before we leave.
###

Tuesday, August 07, 2007

Real de Catorce



Yesterday we left the house at 6am to drive a few hundred kilometers north of here to the town of Real de Catorce. After all sorts of adventures finding breakfast and avoiding a collision with a burro (I wisely slept through most of this), we turned off the highway onto a cobblestone road that wound up into the Sierra Madres 20 kilometers. 20 kilometers on a cobblestone road!! You can just imagine. At the end of the 20 kilometers was a tunnel that was 2 kilometers long, which is a really long ways for an old tunnel blasted out of the mountain over a hundred years ago. We paid our veinte pesos ($2), braved the tunnel, and soon found ourselves on the other side in the town of Real de Catorce. (My dad and I had a fun time explaining the expressions "rocky road" and "the light at the end of the tunnel" to Jacinta - "It's been a rocky road, but thankfully we can see the light at the end of the tunnel!")



We had a great time walking around the town. We bought a few souvenirs, looked at the church of San Francisco (the town's patron saint) and ate lunch at a little café that served coffee, crepes and sandwiches. I hadn't seen a sandwich in days and was amused at how excited I was to eat a sandwich again.



(On a side note, Real de Catorce was the town they shot the movie The Mexican in.)



Today my dad and I stayed home and did pretty much nothing. It's the first day we've really had to just lay around and be on vacation. Since we arrived, our time has been full of sightseeing and parties and everything else. It's been nice just laying around.



Oh, and our bags finally arrived Sunday night.
###

Sunday, August 05, 2007

Not in Atlanta



Well, here I am, typing this in México. My dad and I arrived about 10:00pm local time (one hour behind Atlanta) Thursday, but unfortunately our bags did not. Supposedly our bags are being delivered to us today, but we aren´t holding our breathe.



So far I´ve eaten lots of meals based around corn tortillas (the corn tortilla is to México what rice is to East Asia), purchased some toiletries and clothes to tide me over until our bags arrive, seen lots of sights, had a Spanish lesson (1 1/2 hours with a private tutor is 50 pesos, or $5), and learned lots of new Spanish vocabulary. I´ve also slept in the past three days, which is fabulous.



We're going to take several day trips out into the country, so hopefully I'll have lots of tales of excitement and adventure once we do.



Also, it is a little tricky typing on this Spanish-language keyboard. Many of the keys are in different places, which slows me down quite a bit.



¡Hasta luego!
###

Sunday, July 29, 2007

I feel like I should type something...



...but I don't feel like I have much to say, although a lot has been going on. Family is driving me crazy, as usual; work is good; friends are generally just this side of stable and balanced, which is always appreciated; and the love life is non-existent. That's my life in summary, which doesn't begin to reflect all the internal thoughts and whatnot that have been swirling around.



Oh, here's something completely inconsequential: AMC's new original series Mad Men is fantastic, and you should totally watch it. It was conceived by a guy who used to write for The Sopranos. It's fantastically written, and I love the insane attention to period detail. Also, when the first episode aired they spliced little ad trivia bits in amongst all the commercials
(Example: "Carnival Cruise lines was the first cruise line to advertise on television" CUT TO actual ad for Carnival Cruise) and trivia-crazed mad woman that I am, it was enough to make me sit and watch during the commercial breaks.



It was absolutly ingenious! They got me, Ms. Media Savvy herself, to sit and watch commercials willingly. I have to give mad props to the crafty marketer who came up with that one.
###

Tuesday, July 24, 2007

Update! Life: Not in shambles



I got a financial aid award notice yesterday that changes everything. For the better. I couldn't believe it. This means...all sorts of wonderful things. Money really does change everything.



I was so happy and elated that, after calling my dad to scream the good news into his ear, I walked to the park and pumped myself up as high as I could go on the swing set. Swinging is one of those childhood activities that I miss doing on a daily basis. As a kid, I would swing nearly every day at recess, but as an adult, I only get to swing on occassion. (Please, do not ruin the innocence of this bittersweet reflection on childhood by snickering at the word "swing." Try to maintain some adult-like dignity.)



If you haven't spent much time on a swing lately, I highly recommend it. The shivery rush lies in the shake of the swingset from weighing too much and swinging too high, knowing that at any moment the chains could snap and you could fall, landing at an angle awful enough, and with a force strong enough, to snap your neck.
###



Sunday, July 22, 2007

Anti up





As most of you know, I've given up on dating in this city. Months ago, I adopted a policy of not even trying, secure in the knowledge that in the new year (that would be 2008, in case you're slow on the uptake) I'll be in a new city with a new set of weirdos and losers for me to go out with. As my countdown of months till I kiss the ATL goodbye grows closer to zero, I've begun to feel some curiousity about my future city. I've begun to price apartments, and the prices are high enough to almost make me want to stay in my reasonably priced hometown. (Please note that I said almost.) Naturally, looking at real estate makes my thoughts wander to men, and so I've decided it's alright if I go ahead and browse the singles' market, just to catch a glimpse of what I'm in for.





There seem to be a lot of well-educated men who read literature and keep up with current events in my future city, which is a promising sign. However, I was slightly thrown by the man who listed his occupation as "anti-civil rights lawyer." Say what? I don't know for whom he could possibly work these days, now that Strom Thurmond is dead, but he seems to be making a living somehow.
###










Saturday, July 21, 2007

Up too late



It has been a long time since I've been wired and awake at four in the morning for no reason whatsoever. I didn't go out tonight or anything, just had dinner with my dad and then chilled out by my lonesome in my Ikea 350-sq-ft showroom. Which, now that I think about it, may be the problem. I should have at least gone for a walk or something to get out some pent up energy. As is, I've been too hyper to make laying down and lying still and regulating my breathing and emptying my mind a plausible possibility. At this point, I've pretty much given up on the idea of sleep, since I need to be up at 6:30 anyway. Up all night! Blech. The thrill is gone. I'm not 19 anymore.



Less than two weeks till my TWO-WEEK vacation. I couldn't tell you the last time I had a two-week vacation. I was probably 17, and I don't think 17-year-olds really understand the joy of two weeks with nothing to do but chill.



I'm even more excited thinking about what the future will bring in five months. Five months and I will be a college graduate (finally!), leaving Atlanta (finally!) to meet my destiny. And it's gonna be good.
###

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Technology woes



I thought I'd posted a youtube video of one of the new Bruce Campbell Old Spice commercials a few nights ago with fabulous commentary by me. Youtube promised me it would post shortly. Three days later, and I'm beginnig to think youtube is that guy who asks for your number, making you feel all flattered and giggley and beautiful, and then he never bothers to call. You can't toy with my emotions like that, youtube. I can't handle it.



In addition, my iTunes is not working AT ALL. I've tried updating, I've tried completely uninstalling and reinstalling, I've tried ignoring it for 48 hours. Nothing helps. If anyone has any suggestions, let me know.
###

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Coriandrum sativum



CV has a great talent for figuring out what Star Wars character a person is, or what breed of dog you might be, or what actor would play you in the movie of your life. So when we wandered down a ridiculous conversation path that involved an anecdote about someone saying their favorite Spice Girl was "You know, the other one...Spicy Spice" when what he really meant was Scary Spice, it was only a matter of seconds before CV was explaining what spices various acquaintances of ours would be.



"She's cinnamon because in large doses she's just awful, but mix a little bit of her with some sugar and you've got something good. And I'm cumin. Because I really like how it sounds. Cumin."



"Well then, what spice am I?" I asked.



CV thought a minute - with a very serious looking thinky face, I might add - and then said, with all the gravitas and authority of a woman who is about to pronounce one an item commonly found in the cabinet just to the left of the stove, "You are cilantro."



"Why?" I asked, intrigued.



"Because cilantro is a little bit exotic, but it's still good in lots of things. You can put cilantro in Chinese food, but it also goes in Mexican food. Cilantro is just exotic enough."



Speaking of cilantro, I'm going on vacation to Mexico in less than 3 weeks. No, I'm not going anywhere near the beach, but there will be lots of old towns built in the Spanish colonial days. I look forward to cobblestone streets, majestic Catholic churches, and burros. Preferably all at the same time.
###

Monday, July 09, 2007

On quiet guys with beards



Somehow the conversation at work today came around to me describing my weakness for dudes in bands.



"Not the badass Tommy Lee-types," I explained, "but the quiet guys with beards who are kind of, you know, dopey looking."



This set off a round of guffawing and giggling amongst those in the cubes nearest me. Sometimes it's fun being the baby in the office, because I totally get to remind everyone of their younger, more transgressive selves. The women laughed because they used to totally fall for the dopey bearded quiet guys too, and the men laughed because they used to be the dopey bearded quiet guys.


I then added that a guy didn't have to be in a band for me to fall in love with him; he could, after all, be an artist specializing in hideous installation pieces, or a socially awkward writer with torn jeans and ink-stained fingers. The possibilities are nearly endless, so long as he doesn't have the kind of job that might allow him to "climb" any sort of "ladder of success." The guys I find attractive just don't have careers. They have jobs, menial employment that allows them to pay the bills most months. They live in aging bungalows that would be cute if someone kicked out the five dudes and their musical equipment, picked the empty beer bottles out of the yard, and completely gutted the place. The guys I like are quiet where I am loud, reserved where I am in-your-face. Mostly, they don't talk much.



They don't talk much. I can't emphasize this enough. When your life is as full of words as mine is, there is something so wonderful about a man who doesn't say a lot. I know I really like someone when I feel comfortable enough being completely silent with him, not saying anything, my mind not racing in its habitual thought circles, but devoid of anything but the feel of the moment. What can I say? I'm a sucker for the dopey silent type. They get me every time.


************************************************************************************************************




New cell phone



The 19-year-old bimbo at the cell place, the one with the bad highlights and heavy eye makeup and pink acrylics, totally talked me into getting the 200 txt/video mssg + unlimited internet(!) + unlimited tv(!!!) plan for $19.99 a month when I went in there this evening to buy a new phone. It started out innocently enough, with me staring bug-eyed at the wall-o-phones while stating the awkwardly obvious ("I don't know which one I want. They just all look like...phones."). I soon regained enough of my senses to stay far, far away from anything over $100, and quickly decided on the next-to-cheapest model, which also happened to be sleek and stylishly black and incredibly lightweight.



Then I made my fatal flaw. I told Ms. Pink Acrylics that I needed to add a txting package to my calling plan, and that's when she got me. She took a deep breathe and looked straight into my big brown eyes with her big baby blues, smiled, and said, "We have a special right now..."



Assured that, if I decided I didn't want or need unlimited internet(!) and unlimited television(!!!) on my phone, I could cancel at any point after 30 days, I signed the paperwork. My phone isn't fully activated yet, but just as soon as I receive my confirmation txt I will be a woman with full 3G capabilities, totally ready to take on the world. Or at least watch it on my cell phone.
###


Sunday, July 08, 2007

I can't hear you now



This weekend was packed full of social goodness and partying and fun and all sorts of stuff. (It's going to take me a while to process it all.) But, being something of a loner at heart, I'm now ready to go underground for a while.



Conveniently, though entirely coincidentally, my phone has decided to stop letting me hear phone calls. I guess I'll go buy a new one tomorrow, although the temptation is currently strong to put it off for a few days.



Please dont get me wrong, I loved spending time with everyone, and probably made some beautiful memories that will sustain me when I'm old and all alone on my goat farm. But the non-stop presence of people can be a bit much for me to handle sometimes. Blame it on being an only child, blame it on my neuroses, blame it on whatever you want. The point is, I need alone time in order to function well.



And, of course, by "function well" I mean "be a moderately nice person."
###




Monday, July 02, 2007

I need to return phone calls and study and take a test and...



The point is, I'd rather be blogging.



Also, I forgot my phone was still on silent and so I missed a ton of calls. Work was very busy today, and I had to meet up with my dad and also do grocery shopping, since now that I don't drive I tend to put it off until all that is fit to eat in my place is a single serving of Easy Mac. I have a strange, occasionally itchy red splotch on the right side of my face that is either a heat rash of some kind or a mild allergice reaction to something or other. I am woefully unprepared for the test. I'm tired of living in such a tiny space, and miss having a proper kitchen.



And it seems all I really am fit for this evening is whining.
###

Thursday, June 28, 2007

But what if your mom IS a stripper?



Strange men love to say things to me. Sometimes it is polite ("You wanna sit here?" on the train); sometimes it is annoying ("I just need 87 more cents to buy a bus ticket"); sometimes it is insane ("And then I told the dog jumped why yodel Jesus snork! Damn whitey!"); sometimes it is drunk ("Yo baby, what's up?"). About a month ago, strange men saying strange drunk things to me hit a new low. A low right down there with the woman who told me not to breathe while I made her drink, many years ago when I worked for the Green Giant.



So anyway, I'm out with a female friend at the club, to see a dj from the UK who's here for one night only, etc etc. On the dance floor, my friend starts talking to this guy who was very nice and polite and generally housebroken. He is soon joined by a friend who is (of course!) not as attractive as the guy talking to my friend, but not a total Barney (NATB) either (haha, love how I just randomly decided to revive some Clueless-era 90s slang?). I'm not exactly thrilled about playing wingman, and would prefer to just dance by myself while my friend and NATB's friend chat it up. But, NATB wants to chat. Or rather, yell at me from a distance of a foot and a half, which if you've ever been in a club, you know means I had no earthly idea what the hell he was saying. Our conversation went something like this:

NATB: !!!!!!!!!!

Me: What?

NATB: !!!!!!!!!!!!

Me: I can't hear you!

NATB: (finally figuring out he needed to talk into my ear): Where are you from?

Me: Here.

NATB: HUH?!

Me: HERE!!

NATB: Oh yeah? Where do you go to school?

Me: *Named school*

NATB: Oh yeah? I went to UF/Florida State/someplace in Florida.


Me: Ok.



I'm not having it. Awkward dancing ensues. Suddenly, NATB shouts into my ear: YOU DANCE LIKE MY MOM!


NATB is drunk. He's a wingman. Plus, he went to college in Florida. Clearly, dude isn't all that bright, so I decide to give him a chance to backpeddle out of the horribleness he just created.


Me: I'm sorry?

NATB: You dance like my mom. You're way too hot to dance like that, baby.

Me: (about ready to hit someone): WHAT did you say?

NATB: You heard me, you dance like my mom. You're too sexy to dance like that, all uptight and shit.


I decided to exit stage right and go stand on the far side of my friend. I'd already been harangued by a guy who wouldn't take "I don't want to dance with you. Now. Or ever." without getting huffy, and then this joker comes along with his "You dance like my mom" bullshit. I was really not having it. Where did this crowd come from? Gwinnet county?



Well, naturally, "You dance like my mom" has become a running joke amongst some of my friends. I mean, who says that? It's damn funny, especially since it came out of his mouth THREE TIMES and he had no idea why saying something so fucktarded pissed me off. (On a side note, his housebroken friend did apologize for NATB.) One of my friends let it be known that some guy once told her that she danced like a stripper, and she'd take dancing like a mom over dancing like a stripper any day. Which begs the question, What if your mom IS a stripper? Think about it. It takes "You dance like my mom" to a completely different place.



******************************************************************************************************


Slight personal news update



I dropped the creative writing class. My workload in my two required classes is too heavy (communication law, what?). Also, while I always admire the slacker dudes who are students in a writing workshop, having the professor be the slacker dude was more than I could handle. But the cool thing is my week enrolled in the course forced me to work on a story idea I've had for a long time, and I now have some words on paper.



In conclusion, my aborted mission from God proves that either a) God doesn't know what he's doing when he sends me on these fool's errands or b) I don't listen too good to God.
###






Friday, June 22, 2007

I'm on deadline



I'm a deadline girl. I work best when I have a deadline, because if I'm without a deadline I don't do jack shit. I'm on deadline to produce a short story by 8am tomorrow morning, with enough copies printed out for all my classmates. I've already checked to make sure the copy place near the school is 24 hour. I've written a few pages, scribbled some notes, and done quite a bit of research. Now all I have to do is, you know, really write the thing.



Unfortunately, the time crunch hasn't gotten quite tight enough for me to feel pressured to actually begin. Which is why I'm writing this in Blogger instead of writing a story in Word.



Yesterday was the longest day of the year. Literally and figuratively. I got up early to finish some assignments at the library, and soon lost my wallet. I cancelled all my cards and made it to my first class only a half hour late. When that class let out, I checked back at the library and - awesomely - someone had turned in my wallet! All my cash was still there! I didn't have to replace my driver's license! I'd gone from being very let down to having my faith in humanity completely revitalized.



Then I went to my communication law class and all joy vanished.



My friend Patrick is in town for PRIDE, so we met up for dinner and then headed to Piedmont Park for Screen on the Green. After two hours of waiting for it to get dark enough to start the movie (and after running into a half dozen people I know) I decided I couldn't sit on a blanket in the park any longer without going mad, and went home.



Then, despite being completely exhausted, I found myself unable to sleep.



I hate summer in this city.
###

Tuesday, June 19, 2007

What I'm watching this summer



Hell's Kitchen, Fox, Mondays, 9PM Eastern

Anyone who doesn't want hometown girl Julia the Waffle House cook to win has no humanity. Also, Ramsay has an American version of Kitchen Nightmares debuting later this year! Very excited.



Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List, BRAVO, Tuesdays, 10PM Eastern

She makes me laugh. Plus, she went on a faux-date with Nick Carter.



Top Chef, BRAVO, Wednesdays, 10:00PM Eastern

I am sad that there are no hotties a la Season 2's Sam and Ilan, but making the chefs cook weird stuff like geoduck and eel for Anthony Bourdain(!!) on the very first challenge was beyond awesome.
###

Saturday, June 16, 2007

First impressions





Ok, so partying until 4am is probably not the best thing to do before an 8am class, but I did it anyway. I cut myself off from the drinks soon after one and so felt, upon waking, if not good than at least not bad. I did, however, curse outloud when I arrived downtown only to find none of the coffeeshops there open until 8am, the exact start time of my class. I had to try and pump myself up with vending machine hot chocolate, which I assure you is very definitively NOT the same as a proper cup of coffee.





The classroom was locked when I got there, so I had a chance to scope out the other students while waiting in the hall. It was your usual creative writing class collection of freaks and geeks (although, if I'm to be perfectly honest, it was mostly just freaks), skewed heavily to the female side of the gender continuum. As time ticked past 8 o'clock and still no teacher, I began to grow irritated because a) the teacher was late on the FIRST DAY OF CLASS and I'd managed to drag my 24-hour party people butt in on time despite being sans coffee and b) there seemed to be no slightly neurotic dude out of the three present that I would potentially like to date. Where was the dorkily cute guy in rumpled jeans and converse? Every creative writing class has at least one -- it's in the Law of Writerly Things, Section 3.1.2.3.4.





Then the instructor showed up. Oh, but of course! The instructor was the dorkily cute guy in rumpled jeans and converse. It had never occurred to me before that this might be the case, but it made perfect sense once he was there, live and in person. I'd been expecting either tweedy-jacket guy or dashiki-hippie guy, so dorkily cute guy in rumpled jeans and converse was a thrilling surprise.





But of course, this being Atlanta, he had a wedding ring.





Rather than giving you a play-by-play of how the five hour class progressed, I'll simply list a few of my first impressions:


- My choice to not say, "I'm hungover and I hate you all" when I introduced myself to the class was probably a wise one, although as CV pointed out later, "It would probably have been a very apt introduction to you."


- However, I did tell people I was on a mission from God, which produced exactly the anticipated response of 1/3 of the class laughing (whether or not they got the Blues Brothers reference is another discussion for another time), 1/3 earnestly nodding in support of divine purpose, and 1/3 looking confused as hell.

- I had to bite my cheek not to laugh out loud when Larry the Cable Guy's Juicin' Cousin wandered in at 10am and said, "Sorry I'm late. I've been trying to get into the building since 9, but all the doors are locked." True, many of the doors to the building were locked and people were late to class because of it, but hey cuz, class started at 8! Way to make a great first impression.


- There was a lot of talking about writing today, but very little actual writing. I don't think I've ever spent five hours in a creative writing workshop where all I produced was an outline. That's right, we had ONE writing exercise today ("Find a partner and write an outline for a modern allegory." FYI, Group writing = LAME!) Note to
dorkily cute instructor in rumpled jeans and converse: Less talk, more rock! I signed up for this thing because I wanted to be given prompt after prompt, with me scribbling furiously into my notebook, trying desperately to keep up with my speeding brain. I did NOT intend to sit around with a bunch of social misfits and pontificate about the writing life.


- Did I mention being hungover and hating everybody?





I also volunteered to be in the first group to turn in stories, because nobody else would and I was one of the few with extensive workshop experience who wasn't completely terrified at the prospect. This is the "Do it now!" push that I was looking for. So this week, I will be out of social circulation as I hole up in the library to bang out my first short story in...a really long time.





Holla.
###




Sunday, June 10, 2007


Your Score: Rosalind Russell


You scored 19% grit, 71% wit, 4% flair, and 16% class!




You are one wise-cracking lady, always quick with a clever remark and easily able to keep up with the quips and puns that come along with the nutty situations you find yourself in. You're usually able to talk your way out of any jam, and even if you can't, you at least make it more interesting with your biting wit. You can match the smartest guy around line for line, and you've got an open mind that allows you to get what you want, even if you don't recognize it at first. Your leading men include Cary Grant and Clark Gable, men who can keep up with you.


Find out what kind of classic leading man you'd make by taking the
Classic Leading Man Test.




Link: The Classic Dames Test written by gidgetgoes on OkCupid Free Online Dating, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Friday, June 08, 2007

No sex. No drugs. No rock and roll.


Ok, so maybe there's been a little rock and roll...if the Arcade Fire and Fergie count as rock and roll (anyone? anyone?). But really, I've gone practically straight edge these days...or at least the straightest edge I've been since...uh...um, I don't wanna think back that far.



I think I've mellowed a lot in 2007. Selling the car has helped a lot with that, what with cutting out the stress of driving in ATL traffic (although I still have to WALK on Atlanta streets...more on that later) and creating a whole mental shift in how I order my life (when you're dependent on public transportation and your own two feet, with the occasional ride from a friend, you have to put more thought into going places and doing things). I've lost a little weight, my legs feel all strong and awesome, I'm saving tons of money, I'm hardly contributing to the horrid smog, and the Clean Air Campaign keeps sending me $25 Visa gift cards. In short, selling car=awesome.



(Oh, and speaking of cars, Atlanta now has FlexCar and I am officially all enrolled and stuff, though I have yet to drive one of the cars. If any of you lovelies decide to join, list me as your reference so I can get a credit. Thanks!)



A New Order moment


In the mornings I often listen to my ipod on my way to work to get me all pumped and ready for the day. A few days ago, as I stepped onto the down escalator after exiting the train station, New Order started playing (I can't remember which song, but it's not really about the song), and something popped wistfully in my brain and I was suddenly very aware about me being on that escalator in that moment with that song, with the imaginary opening credits flashing just below my flip flops. At the bottom of the escalator, when I stepped off, I broke into an even jauntier stride than usual. I smiled to myself, and everyone who passed me smiled back. It was great. I was great. The morning was great. At the crosswalk, the car in the lane closest to me stopped just as he should, without me bullying myself into the intersection, and I waved as I began to cross and shouted "THANK Y---" just as the car in the next lane over nearly clipped me. My "thank you" immediatly morphed into a "WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" and an angry glare.





Thus ended the New Order moment.





On a mission from God



Earlier this week, completely out of the blue, someone from Portland found me on myspace and sent me a message. She wanted to know if I was still writing poetry. Taking this as a sign from God, I immediately registered for a creative writing class.



My mission starts a week from tomorrow.
###


Wednesday, June 06, 2007

New hair is an endless fascination



I had my hair cut a few weeks ago into an easy, no-fuss no-muss bob that can withstand the heat and humidity of Atlanta in the summer (ie 91 degrees today) combined with my increased walking around in aforementioned heat and humidity. It is cute; it takes about two minutes to blow dry and style; it is professional; people like it. In short, it bores me to tears. Last summer I lusted for Sienna-Miller-as-Edie-Sedgwick hair; this summer I am 100% for Victoria-Beckham-does-LA hair (minus the blonde, the tacky dress, and the my-chest-looks-frightening-because-I-weigh-98-lbs/44.55 kgs). Focus on the cut, people. O! the cut! It is amazing. The gossip bloggers claim it is "razored eighties" but I personally see it more as a modern take on angsty nineties' style, a la Daria's friend Jane Lane. I am seriously considering a similar cut...
###


Monday, June 04, 2007

Tastey Tastey



I managed to get myself a free ticket to see Fergie Saturday night at The Tabernacle. (Yes, I love the Fergie. I own her album. I know all the words. There are worse things.) The show was freakin' awesome (aside from almost getting into a fight---but I remembered the wise words of Michael Jackson and BEAT IT before things got ugly). For all you Fergie haters, let me just say that doing FOUR ONE-HANDED CARTWHEELS IN A ROW WHILE SINGING AND HOLDING A MICROPHONE more than makes up for (perhaps?) peeing on stage. Plus, she wore some crazy wicked knee socks for her opening costume, and y'all know how I feel about my knee socks. Plus, she had the best back-up dancers this side of early-nineties Madonna/Janet Jackson. None of my camera phone pictures turned out, of course, and this is the only video posted so far on YouTube (come on, all y'all who had your cameras at the show, share the love!)



Other than that, just the usual shenanigans.
###

Thursday, May 31, 2007

Photos, photos, who's got the photos?



Not me! The above photo is the only one taken in the past two weeks that anyone's bothered to post (thanks, EG!) I'm waiting for photos from my birthday and from my Reno/Tahoe adventure---as soon as I can I'll post them, complete with exciting commentary!
###


Monday, May 21, 2007

Birthday All Week!



The showing tonight was small but fun. I didn't do so well at pool, but rocked the air hockey and was respectable at the Ms. Pac-Man. I also tried out the Dragon Punch, which was not nearly as awesome as the name might make you think. My bartender girl hooked me up with birthday shots, VH1's Lindsay Lohan's Most Shocking Moments played on the big screen, the summer wheat beer was delicious with a slice of orange, and we ended the night on the roof where CV made a very memorable toast to me ("Happy Birthday....to casetheplace...who since I've met her I've had more bizarre things happen to me in a short amount of time...she's like The Twilight Zone...she attracts the weird...") The best part is I got home just after 10pm, which means I will have a full night's sleep before work tomorrow. Yay!



The best part is that everyone who missed my low-key gethering tonight wants to meet up all the rest of the week. So far I'm booked tomorrow (Tuesday) night with dinner with Dad, etc; Wednesday night I get my hair did (thank god...I have been dying for a haircut for months but haven't had the time/funds to do so till now), then I go out with EG for a night of GIRLIE UPSCALE DJ DANCING (guaranteed to be awesome, because EG saw these guys in Chicago last week already); Thursday night I seem to be free; and Friday night several people have requested I hold Birthday Party: Part Deux. Then Saturday afternoon I leave the dirty dirty for four days in the desert sun. Laying by the pool in a bikini, what?



And thank you to everyone for the birthday wishes, near and far. It makes me feel all special inside.
###

Sunday, May 20, 2007

The suspense regarding my birthday: Will it be a good day or a bad day?



The old people forgot my birthday, the father freaked out about getting an ice cream cake, and everyone else seems to be out of town. Looks like the typical birthday shenanigans. I doubt tomorrow will come close to topping the Worst Birthday Ever, but neither do I expect it to be the Best Birthday Ever. Maybe it can be the Most Stress-Free Birthday Up To This Point? That would rock.
###



Friday, May 18, 2007

Very, very behind



I am very, very behind on this whole blogging thing. Let me explain: Once the semester ended around the third, I celebrated by not turning on my home computer for, oh, about fifteen days. I've used my computer at work, for doing work things and checking email, but the thought of turning on the home computer has just been too much. I spent way too much time with it the last month or so of school.



But now I am back to a place where I can stand to use the computer at home. So expect more blogging out of me as a result.



Also, I have been SICK as anything since Wednesday late night. Not fun at all. I've called out of work the past two days, and spent most of my time asleep in bed. I was awake for a few hours last night to watch the season finales of The Office (man, do those Office people know how to make a good season finale!) and Grey's Anatomy (first episode since THE FERRY BOAT INCIDENT to make me cry, which is the whole reason anyone watches Grey's in the first place, so I guess they've redeemed themselves for the past few awful weeks (case in point: the two-hour Addison-gets-a-spin-off-with-Taye-Diggs-and-that-guy-fromWings disaster).



Today I managed to get out of bed at 1:30 without feeling too gross. I'm hoping to be all better by Monday, which is my birthday. I'm not doing anything overly huge or special, just hoping a few friends will show up to have drinks and play pool and air hockey with me. Oh, also, I thought I heard someone stomping up my stairs this morning, but chalked it up to delusional sick dreaming. When I opened my door about a half hour ago I found a birthday present and card stuck in my screen door, so I guess Iw asn't dreaming the stomping up my stairs after all. It was unexpected and awesome.
###

Thursday, May 03, 2007

I carried a watermelon





I haven't posted in the better part of a week, which means I have so many amusing anecdotes stored up I don't even know where to begin. Monday's 3 final exam insanity? Tuesday's meeting with the Fulbright advisor? Tuesday night's Arcade Fire show at the Civic Center? (Yes, that's right, the CIVIC CENTER, the place I grew up going to see The Nutcracker and high school graduations. In fact, the last time I was there was for the class of '99's graduation. Apparently they haven't updated the decor in that place since 1988.)



But no, I have to start with the pinnacle of the awesomeness: I saw Dirty Dancing on the big screen last night. I don't think words can even begin to describe how influential this movie has been on me. I saw it for the first time when it first came out on VHS, when I was a very impressionable (and way too young to be watching a PG-13 movie!) 5-year-old. Forever seared in my memory is the moment that my Aunt J turned to me, just as Baby gets her dad the doctor to come take care of a post-back-alley-abortion Penny, and says, "Don't tell Grandma you saw this." As if I was going to tell Grandma I saw a movie called DIRTY Dancing! I was five; I wa
sn't an idiot. Of course, at that age I didn't really get what was happening to Penny, but I certainly got the thrill of Baby's learning to dance with PATRICK SWAYZE (I mean, Johnny Castle). SWOON!



After I had the time of my life, Rob and I played a game of air hockey. I've been practicing lately, and Rob was surprised to discover that "You've improved your defensive game. Ways I used to be able to score on you you now block!" Quick, someone make that a metaphor for our relationship...



###