all the news, period.

You know how I keep hinting at big news? Most of my readers probably already know, but since more things keep happening, I'm just going to give you a blunt post and hopefully something later with details!

I got a new job. I'm now working for the Greater New Orleans Foundation and I love love love my job. I love working for a nonprofit. I love constantly learning. I love the people I work with.

I got engaged. I kind of can't believe it either. We used my great-grandmother's ring and everyone is happy and I'm currently drinking prosecco in my bed, because that's what fancy engaged ladies do, right?

Richie's going back to school. A gout flare up (yes, my fiance (AHHH) has gout and is clearly EIGHTY) convinced us that he's not going to be able to do manual labor forever, so it's time to move on up in the world. We'll see what construction management is like.

I got some sweet new sheets. Yeah!

"but you'll fight and you'll make it through/ you'll fake it if you have to"

I didn't mean to take nearly a month's hiatus from the blog, but life has been so busy lately. Plus, I'm sure no one minded :)

Things have been a little tumultuous lately. As it stands today, I've received three letters of rejection from programs: OSU, Vanderbilt, and Rutgers. OSU was a blow for me; I was really hoping to get into that program. Still waiting to hear from LSU, Stanford and Indiana. Before I sent in apps last semester, one of my professors told me that a longer wait is not a bad thing--it usually means they're still considering your application instead of outright rejecting it. I'm holding out hope that this is the case for Stanford. It probably isn't--they probably just have a billion applications to sort through--but a girl can dream, can't she?

I also, after much consideration and a long talk with my adviser, decided to nix the thesis. In the end, I think I could have done it, but I would have been insane trying to squeeze in a thesis between work, carnival season, Chicago/AWP. The sheer volume of work I'd have to do in a month, even barring those extras, would have been incredible. And I decided, and supported in this decision by Tom, that I didn't want to write something hurriedly and end up publishing something that I wasn't 100% proud of writing. I'm still a little bummed about the way things played out, but also admittedly relieved that I've been able to have a free semester. I've been reading a LOT (I'm caught up on #19 on the list!), I went to TWENTY Mardi Gras parades, I saw lots of friends, I've had time to clean my house and watch movies and be a little lazy, which has been a rare luxary over the past two years. I feel good about what I did--I finished my MLA in a year and a half. I'm graduating with a 3.95 GPA. I learned a lot and made an amazing friend. And now I just want a little time to enjoy New Orleans some more, especially if it might be my last time for a long time to live here. 

In addition to the above, and maybe because of in some sense, I've also been fighting some depressive episodes this month. When I first started this entry a few days ago, I was listening to this Rilo Kiley song on repeat in an effort to remind myself that I've gotten to a place in life where I know how to fight those situations. This has just been a tough one. I've had multiple anxiety attacks this month. I've been trying to center myself with balanced friend and alone time, cooking, cuddling with the cat, and whiskey. The last in moderation. Mostly.

But, all in all, it's been a fairly good month. Mardi Gras was a blast (excepting the actual day, which was awful for me for reasons I don't want to go into here), I ran around in a leather corset and a tutu, I saw friends, I got a Zulu coconut, my friend got engaged, Richie made me an AMAZING Valentine's Day dinner (seared scallops on garlic butter angel hair, followed by duck breast topped with a cream and Abita Amber reduction, on a bed of pureed turnips and garlic sauteed kale) and I made him one of the best cakes I've ever made--a double layered red velvet cake with a layer of cheesecake in the middle. I'm ready to round out the month with a train ride to Chicago, panels on writing, playing in one of my favorite cities and spending a week with some of my very favorite people.

and sometimes when you're on 

you're really fucking on
and your friends they sing along and they love you
but the lows are so extreme

that the good seems fucking cheap
and it teases you for weeks in its absence
but you'll fight and you'll make it through
you'll fake it if you have to
and you'll show up for work with a smile
and you'll be be better and you'll be smarter
and more grown up and a better daughter
or son and a real good friend
and you'll be awake, you'll be alert
you'll be positive though it hurts
and you'll laugh and embrace all your friends
and you'll be a real good listener
you'll be honest, you'll be brave
you'll be handsome and you'll be beautiful
you'll be happy

Upward Mobility

This is mostly just a silly post I'm using to test the Blogger mobile app.
Tonight, I went grocery shopping then cooked food for the week. Fish, kale, potato and tomato chowder, stuff for veg curry, and a potato and.feta tart. Wheat toast with nutella and half a banana for dessert. I also washed the veritable shitton of dirty dishes and now the skin on my hands feels stiff and weird.
Here's a pic of Richie and me I took the other day:

simply perfect

Today, I woke up curled up with Richie on Christie's couch. I spent the next hour alternately reading and napping until Josh woke up and made us coffee in a measuring cup. Christie came home and we all ate eggs and spinach and yogurt and cold leftover veggie stew. Richie commented that my shirt was completely see-through, to which I replied, "Everyone here has seen my tits anyway."

Christie left, I dropped Richie off to do some gathering up at his old house and Josh and I had coffee at Highland. We had a really great talk while I painted my fingernails mustard colored.

Josh left, I picked up Richie, got my car washed, then we went to the Baton Rouge Gallery and browsed the Surrealist art show. I found an artist I was interested in. The guy at the desk told me her work was on Etsy for a quarter of the price being charged in the gallery.

Richie and I took a long stroll around City Park, stopping to climb in old oak trees and take photos of ducks. Right now, we're at Garden District Coffee where I'm drinking Earl Grey and he's napping on a jacket. We're killing time until we go watch the Saints game with friends.

Sometimes, there are days that are so perfect in their simplicity.

twenty-twelve

So this is the new year
And I have no resolutions
For self assigned penance
For problems with easy solutions

At the beginning of 2011, I made a list of all the things that had happened in the previous year. I don't feel such a need to reflect on 2011. It, in the end, wasn't really the happiest year of my life. It was a tough year where I lost people, both to death and irreconcilable differences. I can't even work up the vigor to be pissed off at 2011...I'm just tired and I don't want to think about it. But, with the new year, I did think back to this time last year.

New Year's Eve 2010 was documented here. A person who believes in Fate might find that kind of ushering in to be rather foreboding. I was incredibly sad that night, sadder than I cared to admit or, really, even recognize. I later tried to blame that sadness on someone else, but really, it wasn't anyone's fault. 2010 had been a weird, weird year and I think that the end of that year was too much to deal with at the time.

This NYE was vastly different. I party hopped with friends and Richie, toasted to the New Year at Snake and Jake's, kissed my boyfriend, then went neighborhood wandering. A group of us ended up back at my house, listening to records, talking, cuddling on my couch and enjoying our friendships. It was, in the end, a night of friends and gratitude and delight, a night so full that it lasted until 5:30am. We napped, then Richie and I got up and made gumbo and cookies and French press coffee and everyone gathered in my dining room and ate. I spent the rest of the evening wrapped up with Richie, watching movies.

When part of our group returned to my house at around 4am on NYE night, they asked what we'd been up to and Christie said, "Well, we walked around and then...we stopped." I said, "We stopped. That was our night." Annie stated, "2012: We Stopped." It's been our joking slogan, fitting in so many ways (the end is nigh, friends!), but I also like "2012: We're Full."

One reflection on 2011 that I think is fitting is this one:
I don't really do the whole New Year resolutions thing, because my resolution is always to try and be a better person, but I think part of that is taking care of myself and not getting so lost in other people and what I think they think of me. Not going crazy and losing my shit. Not trying to perpetuate relationships with people who could not give a fuck less.
2010 was a year of massive emotional upheaval. 2011 was about fine tuning my responses to that, about cleaning up my life a little. In that sense, I think I achieved my resolution. I've made some really wonderful connections in 2011, I've filtered out people that don't matter or who don't care, and I've tried to be kind in my interactions with both. I'd argue that sometimes kindness is sternness or knowing when to walk away. I've dealt with some incredibly difficult situations this year and every time, I was surrounded by people who genuinely cared about my well-being. I hope I've been that person to them as well.

So, in that spirit, I don't have a staunch 2012 resolution. The year promises to be a rather drastic one--I'll graduate from Tulane, I'll know whether or not I got into a Ph.D program (and if I did, I may have to move, which will come with it's own set of issues), I have two trips planned for this year (Chicago and San Francisco). I will continue to work, really work, toward being the best friend, daughter, sister, girlfriend, person I can be, for everyone else and for myself. I will try and better myself, try and push myself a little more and not get mired down in the idea that I can't do it, I will make time for fun, and try to sleep more, and love fully. It isn't a penance, it's just the right thing to do.

NYE

NYE, y'all.

(Stan the Sock Monkey was a Christmas present from Richie)

Break (v.)- separate or cause to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock, or strain

Sometimes I forget how it feels to feel broken. The kind of intensity about it that it brings to even the smallest tasks, because there is a simultaneous attempt to escape it and and resoluteness to bear it out by way of completing these simple missions. Turning the shower on to exactly the right heat. Watching a tea bag slowly seep into water. Minute details become exquisitely important, as you try to will your entire self into them to blur the pounding temples, the rising nausea. Everything must be quiet, quiet so your mind will be quiet too, so it will stand very very still, so those shattered pieces won't fall out of the frame.

juxtaposition

I had a really really bad day yesterday.
I went to the funeral on about 4 hours of sleep. I spent most of the time beforehand talking to my cousin Joe, the one who recently lost his wife to cancer. The funeral itself was very very hard, made more so by the preacher who spent the entire time trying to convert people to Christianity and making comments like, "I've never had anyone I know die in...this manner but..." I wanted to stand up and shout, "NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ABOUT YOUR LIFE, YOU SMUG FUCK."
One bright spot was hanging out with my 8 year old cousin, who regaled me with tales of how his sister loves cookies, how he loves cookies, how he does a great dog impression, how the Tigers are going to go all the way unless they lose to Arkansas. At one point, he solemnly looked at me and said, "Mandi, you sure did grow a lot since I saw you." I replied, "Well, no. I'm just wearing heels." I took them off and he said, sagely, "I thought so. You're pretty short. I'm almost as tall as you."
On the way back to New Orleans, the front tire on the truck blew and there wasn't a jack in the truck, so my mom and little brother had to come out and Alex changed the tire. Then the spare was flat. So we filled it but it's leaking air.
I finally make it to Richie's and he went to Bayona to pick up his paycheck so we could go out that night for dinner. But his check was postdated, so no one would cash it and I ended up just giving him the cash to pay. Both of us were so frustrated by that point, that we almost skipped dinner and stayed home drinking.

Instead, we ended up having a really fantastic night. We went to Cochon (Richie's birthday present to me) and I had some prosecco while we waited for a table. The food was absolutely incredible--we split the boucherie plate (cured ham, salami, prosciutto, pate, hogshead cheese, crutons, bread and butter pickles, pickled tomatillos with dijon mustard), followed by a amuse bouche of grilled oysters and a bowl of seafood gumbo Richie ordered. For dinner, I got a seared pork belly on a bed of mashed turnips and garlic green beans, while Richie got the cochon with braised cabbage and turnips and topped with cracklins. We split a dessert of a chocolate ice cream "sandwich' filled with caramel ice cream and topped with chocolate strudel and peanut brittle. I seriously almost cried, the food was so good. Hands down the best meal I've ever eaten.
Afterward, we met up with a couple of friends and had a little coffee and a few beers at Avenue Pub.So, a really wonderful way to end an incredibly shitty day.

Unfortunately, I forgot my camera last night, but here are some pics from birthday celebrating:
Ladies at my Fancy Pants Party
lady p-i-m-p
Jason and me...I'm drinking from a "woozie"--a wine glass with a coozie--and he's drinking from a wine glass made from a Mason Jar
Nancy and I posing with Margaret Atwood books. Nancy is so gorgeous.
Richie and me, wherein I look exceptionally drunk
Nano and me, after lunch with the family. I am hungover.

nourishment

I'm so grateful that Ravi and I had the breakup that we did and that he's still in my life and willing to listen to me lose my fucking mind and be kind to me about it.

Me: I learned something about myself today!
not a good something
Ravi: ?
Me: I think I have a problem of getting incredibly attached to people in part a a way of not having to deal with my own life
Richie and I got in a rather big fight last night (it's too much to explain really but he broke plans with me to go drinking with his coworkers)
and he said to me "you're NOT the center of my life" and I said "I don't want to be" but I think I have a problem with making my loved ones, friends and boyfriends, as a kind of main focus because it distracts me from how stressed and worried I am about my own life
I started crying in the middle of it about not having any idea what was going to happen if I didn't get into a doctoral program or even what would happen if I DID and he was like "wait, where did this come from"
I think that's why I had such an existential crisis when you and I broke up. not just because the break up itself but because I had to deal with that stuff head on
Ravi: makes sense
Me: still really fucking depressed 
I don't know how to have a...casual relationship.
I know how to have a sex only thing. and I know how to have super serious "we're living together" relationship
I'm not good at regular dating. 
I also think I'm a difficult person to date
Ravi: I'm not good at dating in general ;)
i wouldn't say you're difficult to date
Me: no?
Ravi: I mean, you have your moments.  everyone does
but in general no
Me: thanks 
I just feel like I'm a total emotional wreck
I've also been throwing up my food again 
I think I'm going to try and see a counselor
Ravi: on purpose?
Me: yes
Ravi: :/
yea, you probably should
Me: I know
I just....it's just a fucked up way of enacting control on my life, you know?
and also just because I've felt so ugly and awful lately
Ravi: you aren't ugly!
Me: thanks
I just feel like it lately
this is what happens when I get stressed/depressed
I eat like shit, then I start feeling super fat and ugly
then I start vomiting up my food
Ravi: you are beautiful
Me: thank you
AND NOW I'M CRYING
ahahaha
srsly
Ravi: freak :)

a collection of tiny stories

The Perils of Jungle Juice
On the 22nd, I went to a friend's costume party and there was a large bowl of "Witches' Brew." I had two large cups on an empty stomach, followed by a beer. Then I drove to the Quarter to go pick Richie up, but his phone was dead and after an hour of waiting for him, I angrily went home and locked the deadbolt, because I am vindictive. He came home via taxi (turns out we'd just missed one another and he'd been in a cab for awhile) while I was in the midst of removing my makeup. He started knocking on the door and as I walked into the living room to go unlock the door, I realized I was going to be sick. So I ran to the door, slamming my leg into a side table in the process (resulting in a really beautiful bruise), unlocked it and yelled "I'M SICK" in response to his "what the fuck is wrong with you?" He followed me into the bathroom and held my hair and stroked my shoulder and gave me water while I asked him to go away. Then he put me to bed and asked me if I wanted a PB&J. I said yes, then promptly fell asleep. He found me asleep, ate my sandwich and also went to bed. I woke up around 2am, feeling dismal and looking for my sandwich.

Fall Festivities
Jason, Lianna and I carved pumpkins and drank pumpkin beer in a non-ironic festive way. Jason carved a yin yang, Lianna carved a TV and I carved a martini glass and a bottle because I'm a drunk.

Voodoo Hoodoo
I went to Voodoo all three days. On Friday, Eddie and I biked there and saw Ani Difranco, Band of Horses and Soundgarden. All were great shows.
Saturday, I went alone and caught a bounce show, Social Distortion, Snoop Dogg (with Mystikal) and Blink 182. Blink's set kind of sucked, was full of inane dick jokes and I left halfway through, after my inner 14 year old was mostly satisfied (I really only wanted to hear "Dammit" and they didn't play it before I left). I admittedly teared up slightly during this set, despite it sucking, because it made me think of when Candace and I used to blast Enema of the State in her backyard and sit upside down on her swing and sing the lyrics to her next door neighbor (the crush of my teenage life). I biked back to Richie's, where I'd left the truck and as I was tying up my bike, two gay guys approached me and asked me if I'd give them a ride to Palmer Park. I was kind of hesitant at first, but I figured what the hell and let them in. They invited me to a party, but I politely declined.
On Sunday, I went with Richie and Matt. We saw Dr. John, then met up with Lianna at TV on the Radio (fantastic show). The boys left to go see The Meters, while Lianna and I caught the rest of TVotR, grabbed food and went to see The Clash. We wandered over to catch the end of The Meters set, met up with the boys to see The Ranconteurs. I got pretty high during the TVotR show and I started getting kind of paranoid during The Ranconteurs, but Richie and Lianna calmed me down (I'm not good at being high. I either get stupid silly or paranoid.) Richie and I went to Finn's afterward and got drinks that I almost fell asleep in, because I'd only had 4 hours of bad sleep.

Frenchman Follies
On Saturday night, post-festival, I got dressed up in voodoo doll drag and Matt and I headed down to the Marigny. We met up with friends at Mojito's, started drinking a lot. I had a brief blood sugar episode, which passed when I found a muffin. We went to The John and there was a boyfriend/girlfriend incident that culminated in the decision that everyone needed to eat, which is how we ended up at some hot sausage place on St. Claude at 3am, eating poboys and taking ridiculous and cute pictures. Then we walked over to Big Daddy's to play pool and finally ended the night at Mimi's until dawn. Richie and I ate more PB&J in bed (it's kind of a thing), before falling into some really bad sleep. We finally got out of bed around 1, coffee'd up and headed back to Voodoo.

T.C. Obsession
I've been reading T.C. Boyle's The Women. I really ought to know better than to pick up a Boyle book while I have other pressing matters to attend to, because he always sucks me in. I started it because I didn't want to be bored between shows at Voodoo. Richie said, "You're going to a festival with tens of thousands of people and you're going to be the one reading a book?" I replied, "I don't think you understand how antisocial I really am with strangers."
So now I'm toting the book everywhere, reading it until 2am and it reminded me of the first time I ever read Boyle. It was "Greasy Lake" in my high school English class and I was so taken with it that I went to Barnes and Noble that weekend and bought every collection of his short stories, which cost around $80. I remember being worried that I was spending that much but then I went to the car and started reading at stoplights on the way home and forgot all about it.

Trains and Planes
Mike posted on FB that he's going to AWP and staying with Erin in Chicago. I've wanted to go to AWP every year and I was toying with the idea when I saw that Margaret Atwood is the keynote this year. That settled it for me. I signed up to volunteer at the event, to get my registration covered, then I started looking into flights. They were about $350 round trip, which is way more than what I wanted to spend. Then I checked out Amtrak. I ended up booking a train passage, leaving New Orleans on Feb 28 and arriving in Chicago the next day at 9am. (I'm taking a one-way flight back to NOLA that Sunday...still cheaper than round-trip flight). I'm really really excited--I've never been on a train and we're going to go through Memphis. I was thinking about bringing some 1920's lit to read on the ride, until I remembered that I will be deep into the thesis at that point, so fun reading will probably turn out to be something like Halberstam's Female Masculinity. Ah well. Train! Atwood! Friends! Chicago!

feeling like a half-rate stripper

I am actually wearing lingerie under my clothes right now. This feels...cheesy. But kind of hot. But mostly cheesy. Maybe not so much after some wine and when I'm not alone.

(my sexy room isn't helping matters much.)

"and its just light enough to see"

This weekend wasn't really super exciting, but it was good enough that I wanted to write it down for the memories.

On Friday, I went out to karaoke with some lady friends. They'd never done karaoke, so everyone was a little shy at first, but by the time the night ended, we were all standing on a couch, shouting Britney Spears, like we were in some shitty rom com. Girl power! (it was awesome.) Afterwards, Alyson and I drove out to River Ridge to pick up Richie's paycheck from his mom and hang out with her for a bit. I got Richie from work, then went to bed while he and Matt partied.

The next morning, I woke up to bring Marla to the vet and found both the boys passed out in the living room, my front door open, an empty bottle of Maker's on the coffee table and a guitar laying on the floor. Neither guy was responsive, so I herded Marla into her kennel and brought her to the vet. Afterwards, I picked up guava pastries from the patisserie for everyone and headed home. I was finally able to drag Richie off the couch and we ate pastry in bed and talked for a few hours until he was sober enough to be out and about. We went to Z'otz and he bought us some coffee. We sat outside and walked around Oak St. for a bit before going thrifting for Halloween stuff. I was digging for something to cut up for my voodoo doll costume and he pulls out this beautiful brown linen dress. It has a very 70's cut and is in wonderful condition. Also, $10. We got gas station fried chicken afterwards and went back home.

This next part may be kind of TMI but it's part of the story and also funny, so bear with me. When we got home, we had some rather intense relations, so much so that when I stood up, the room started spinning and I fell back onto the bed. Richie made some joke about fucking my equilibrium up and we laughed and took a nap.

A couple of hours later, we got up to go to the BBQ and Blues festival. As I was driving there, with Richie and Matt, I started feeling really nauseated and hot. My vision started tunneling. But we were also late, so I started stressing out about finding parking. Richie kept telling me to pull over, but I was intent on finding parking. We finally did and as we were walking to the festival, I started getting dizzy again. I made a comment about feeling like I had vertigo and Richie said, "Sweetie, you need real food. I think it's your blood sugar."

We got to the festival, I ate a poboy, drank a beer and felt better. We danced to Kenny Wayne Shepherd and, at one point, Richie picked me up around the waist and held me in the air. This woman behind him fist-pumped and yelled, "YEAH!" It was kind of a country moment.

Afterwards, we went to Avenue Pub. The guys played pool while I hung out at the jukebox and drank beer. Eventually, Alyson showed up. Janis Joplin's "Try (Just a Little Bit Harder)" came on and I was singing along. Richie commented on it and I said, "If I get really shitfaced, I do an amazing 'Piece of My Heart.'" A little while longer and not nearly enough alcohol later, Richie starts grinning at me as "Piece of My Heart" came on. We started singing it together and generally acting like fools. Afterward, CCR's "Travelin' Band" came on and Richie was positively screaming the lyrics and dancing with me while I buried my head in his shoulder and laughed. He picked me up again and swung me around, to the amusement of other bar patrons and then put me down and said, "I beat you. I'm crazier." 

In the midst of all this, I started to feel sick again. I'd only had two beers, so it wasn't a drunk thing. Alyson accompanied me to the bathroom to puke a few times, but I wasn't to the point where I needed to leave. I just chatted, drank, puked, sang, danced, puked, etc. But things gradually got worse. Richie and Matt were playing pool with these two really weird guys and trying to hurry up and finish because I'd told Richie I was ready to leave. I went to the bathroom to puke again and a girl was standing in there crying. She was looking at her phone and wailing, "WHY DOESN'T HE LOVE ME?" Of course, I felt a little awkward purging, so I walked back out and told Richie I was really really ready to go and that I needed to throw up. Alyson asked what was wrong and I told both of them about the girl. Before I know it, Richie has walked over to the bathroom and cracked it. I looked at Alyson and asked, "Is he really doing this?" Alyson said, "Is that her?" I looked up and the girl walked past. Richie came back and said, "I opened the door and said, 'Excuse me. I know you're upset, but my girlfriend is really sick--not drunk, just sick--and she needs to throw up. I don't want to be an asshole, but could you please step out?" The girl replied, 'IT'S OKAY, YOU ARE AND SO IS HE."

I wasn't able to drive home but, problematically, Richie doesn't have a license and Matt can't drive a stick shift (which is what I'm driving in lieu of my broken car at the moment). I kept trying to say I'd drive, but Richie and Alyson both firmly told me there was no fucking way that was happening (I was leaning on Richie to stay upright by this point). We decided Richie would drive and Alyson would tail us closely. Unfortunately, while in the bar, it had gotten foggy outside. The truck does not have working windshield wipers or a defroster. So Richie is wildly swerving because he can't see out of the windshield and I'm screaming that he's about to hit cars and he's screaming at me to stop screaming at him while Matt is patting my leg and telling me it'll be okay. I spent much of the rest of the drive with my hands over my eyes. I removed them at one point, only to start flailing my hands helplessly, saying, "ohmygodohmygod" while Matt put his arm around me. I calmed down when we got closer to home and we finished out the drive singing "Don't Stop Believin'." I walked in, promptly threw up everything left in my stomach and went to bed.

The next morning, Richie and I woke up early and went to brunch at The Ruby Slipper. On the way home, we stopped so he could look at a potential apartment. It seems pretty perfect, so here's hoping. He went to work after, along with Matt. As much as I enjoy having them there, it was really really nice to have my house to myself again for awhile. I cleaned, made pizza dough, did some sewing and listened to music.

So, all in all, I didn't get anything done that I NEEDED to get done, but I got to destress, which was pretty valuable. Though I may need more of that, since I woke up screaming in the middle of the night last night from a nightmare and cried while watching a video of kittens meowing earlier. All in good time.

yin yang

Good: Radio Bar visit on Friday
Bad: Horrible sinus infection= no sleep
Good: Chinese buffet, mailing a birthday present
Bad: Stuck in tailgating traffic, Richie screaming at a cop, having a miserable headache from sinus issues and lack of sleep
Good: Nap in Christie's bed, party with friends, Fleur de Lis pizza, lots of beer, eating Louie's in bed
Bad: More shitty sleep, being a fat ass, another headache
Good: Coffee outside at Highland
Bad: Stupid fucks at Subway
Good: Reading while cuddled up on a couch with two puppies, more partying, some cute pictures, seeing parents
Bad: Washing a cat pee covered blanket, telling Richie the entire abusive ex story (maybe more on this later), getting heartburn as a result
Good: Looking at old pictures, snuggles
Bad: A UTI. Jesus, vagina. Really?
Good: Spooning, Richie officially moved to NOLA.

everyone's a winner

A couple of months ago, Ann and I met up for drinks at The Delachaise when she was in town and, like we do, we started talking about boys. I told her about my then-current situation (just broke up with one guy, going on a date with another guy and carrying on a flirtation with someone else) and she said something along the lines of, "you have so much game!" I started laughing because "game" is the last word I'd use to describe my awkward and neurotic approach to the dating world, but she pointed out, rightly, that every time we'd talked in the past year, there was some combination of dudely happenings. 2010-11 has been a fruitful year. It's also been kind of emotionally chaotic--the whole navigating a big breakup, dalliances and their occasional fall-outs, breaking off short-lived but passionate flings. I don't want to get into it, good or bad, because I know some of those guys know about this blog and I'm not interested in hurting feelings or opening wounds.

But, "game" or not, it's been a fun year. And maybe I do have a little game, because I ended up with a whiskey-drinking, mechanically handy cook who just got a job at one of the best restaurants in the city (and is actually moving here, thank goodness.) being "smitten" with me. Game indeed.

Maybe he likes my drunken eye squint.

time to breathe...okay, stop.

I took the GRE yesterday and now I have my life back for a very short period before I start thesis writing.

I pretty much expected to bomb the GRE. I spent the vast majority of my study time (about 3 hours a night, plus weekends) reteaching myself high school math. Math never never makes sense to me. I think it does and then suddenly a fraction appears but this time, you're not supposed to treat it like a fraction, you divide it! No, you reduce this one BUT NOT THIS ONE and god, fuck YOU, fractions.

So I only briefly skimmed the section of my Kaplan book that pertained to the writing portion and most of my vocab review was done using a Kaplan app on my phone.

Anyhow, the experience wasn't awful. The Prometrics center is like a goddamned prison (No talking about the test. No leaving the room, even to pee. All your stuff goes in a locker. No studying. Empty your pockets. Metal detector scan. Have your glasses checked for cameras. Each cubicle on a video monitor), but they gave me headphones and since I've been studying while listening to a White Noise website, that was peaceful for me. I feel like I did really well on the writing sections. First verbal was easy. First math was awful. I ran out of time before the last 5 questions (and the three before that were desperate answers, punched in before the clock ran out). Second verbal was a bit harder but still fine. Second math was easier but I still ran out of time before the last question. I got an extra verbal section for their testing purposes. At the end, you're given a 100-point range of scores for the Math and Verbal sections (I won't get final results until November). My math range was dismal. 370-470. But my verbal was 670-770 and I am almost certain that I'm at the higher end of that because I was pretty comfortable with most of the questions. All the programs I'm applying to require more than 600 on the verbal, preferably approaching 700. I'm more worried about that cumulative.

On that note, I've been busy making a list of the schools I want to apply to. That's another thing I need to start on soon--grad school apps. At least that one is easily done at work. So far, I'm definitely applying to LSU (they have a Women and Gender concentration in the Writing and Culture track of their English Ph.D), UT-Austin (for a Women and Gender/Public Policy duel masters. Everyone needs three masters now, right?), Rutgers, U of Indiana, U of Chicago and Berkeley (I probably have zero chance of getting in here but people keep telling me to just try, so fuck it. Why not?).

Life has been a real clusterfuck lately, but not in an awful way. There have been some shitty things, but as I said in that post, some good ones as well. The car got worse (the serpentine belt broke and the water pump may have seized up but that same guy I went on some dates with is working on it for me because he really is the nicest guy), the sinus infection got worse, a yeast infection appeared, I've had a run of terrible headaches, and fuck, I haven't slept well in a month. I'm trying to use the next two weeks to my advantage, since they will be a brief break for me. I want to finish a few books to catch back up on the months I had to skip. I want to keep riding my bike every day. I went out for drinks at Pal's last night and renewed my lust for moving to Mid-City. I want to sleep 8 hours in a night (and I plan to accomplish that tonight). those are the only goals I'm setting for myself and if I end up listening to The Big Chill soundtrack on repeat for hours while I lay on the couch and talk to Marla, that won't be such a bad thing either.

why don't you sit right down and make me smile

Lately I feel like my life is this constant cycle of getting really fucking stressed out, having a few brief moments of clarity, then sinking back under. Or, for a more-than-cliched metaphor, I feel like I keep breaking the water and sinking back under.

In this past week, my radiator has gone out twice. I've been reduced to carrying gallons of water and a roll of paper towels in my car. It is chugging along with water and prayer. I'm thinking the radiator will need to be replaced next week, which means getting it to Baton Rouge.

My mom has had the first round of injections in her back for pain management of her arthritis and a slipped disc that is causing some nerve damage.

The family dog has cancer. A surgery was performed last week to remove a tumor but biopsy results have come back and shown that they didn't get all of it, so they have to go deeper. The dog is 2. My parents are devastated.

Um, I gained like 4 or 5 pounds. Not a big deal in the scheme of things but I'm already stressed so, you know.

A very dear friend is having some heart problems, right on the heels of her mother having a health scare. My childhood best friend's father (who was like a second father to me) is having to undergo a heart cath after having had quad bypass 4 years ago.

I have a sinus infection.

I have been having a pretty bad bout of stress-induced insomnia and have been averaging 4-5 hours of sleep a night.

GRE+ school shit. ugh.

But.

None of this scary shit is happening to me. To people I love, yes. But I can be there for them. Fall is coming up and with it: my birthday, Voodoo Fest, Halloween, the holidays, NYE in Oklahoma to see Flaming Lips, Alyson's wedding, the Angola rodeo, cooler (hopefully) weather. I went on a couple of dates with a real sweet dude, someone Alyson described as "one of the nicest people I've met in awhile." I have a fantastic support network. I did some freelance work and it became a bit of a big deal. I saw Ani Fucking Difranco at Target.

so, life ain't all bad. But I'd still take some calmer waters.

i know more than i knew before

Today I had a full blown anxiety attack about the GRE and doctoral programs...mostly along the lines of "I haven't studied enough I'm going to blow it and not get into grad school AND THEN MY LIFE WILL BE RUINED OH MY GOD."

But this weekend, I got to (unexpectedly) see a fair amount of friends. I cooked delicious Indian food and baked brownies. I got a TON of reading done. I got to help three friends out in major ways. I had a mini dance party in my kitchen. I got a foot rub. I took naps while it rained. Someone told me I was beautiful. Three different people made an effort to calm me down when I lost my shit. Someone told me they missed me. I helped someone make a big decision. I met a dude from L.A. I ate an amazing homemade breakfast that I didn't cook. I took a long walk after the storm.

Not getting into a Ph.D program can't even touch that.

P.S. Who can be sad with this in their life?:

full of love.

I've been listening to Fleetwood Mac's "Silver Springs" all day today. It's been a harrowing day. Blair and I broke up. And while I know it's for the best, it's still shitty and sad and I feel guilty and awful about it.

But, after it happened, I took a 9 mile bike ride, circling twice through Audubon park while listening to some Broken Social Scene, which did a lot to put me in a better frame of mind. Speaking of, I got a new bike (did I mention my old one was stolen? Yeah. I hope I have better luck with this one.):

Her name is Heloise :)










So, other than that, it's been an interesting month. I've been drinking far far too much--I threw back a bottle of wine just last night and that's probably the 5th one in a week and a half period, in addition to numerous other drinks. I flew to Chicago to ride with Erin to Mike's wedding in Columbus. The wedding ceremony was absolutely beautiful, a perfect celebration of Mike and Jarod's love and commitment to one another, as well as their quirkiness. There was a blessing by their parents, someone read a Neil Gaiman poem, a gay mens' choir sang and the entire thing was held on a farm. I cried throughout, partly from the beauty and partly from a deep sense of sadness that there are still so many fucking people out there who want to legislate who we're allowed to love and spend the rest of our lives with, who hate people like my beautiful amazing friends purely because of the love they share between one another.

But much as I loved seeing Mike, I have to admit that it was seeing Erin that was really the highlight of my trip. There are some people that you just fall in with, like you never left, no matter how long its been. Erin and I have that kind of friendship. We were driving back to Chicago from Columbus and I mentioned that to her and she said, "You know, I was thinking that too. Like, when Mike told me he was getting married, there was no question that I'd be there. It'd be the same for you. It's just that kind of friendship." On the way back, we detoured into Michigan, because Indiana is the most boring drive ever (except for Missouri) and we ate at a Buffalo Wild Wings, because we have an infatuation with this news story. We hung out late into the night, drinking honey bourbon on her balcony and catching up and just being with her made me feel right minded again. Maybe I just needed a change of scenery or maybe I needed her advice, but I felt so much clearer after we talked.

Female relationships are so strange to me. I get along really well with guys and, for a long time, they were the ones I made lasting friendships with. But I have these really intense female relationships with Erin and Christie and Alyson and it's almost a feeling that goes beyond any definition of friendship, any verbalizing of "best friends". I feel like those two people can see straight through me sometimes, that they can read my mind. And reminding myself of those connections is almost overwhelming. I mostly come away feeling gratitude to have people like them in my life.

Erin and I, pre-rehearsal dinner.

Me, Mike and Erin at the rehearsal dinner.

Me, sloshed after the dinner. Yay, wine.

My favorite image from the wedding.

Obligatory kiss photo!

Mike and me dancing :)

"who would have known how bittersweet this would taste"

I'm having a bout of melancholy right now. I can't quite put my finger on it but I think a lot of it is the approaching year anniversary of the breakup/move. I've been listening to a lot of sad love songs lately, thinking a lot about living here and, at times, unintentionally recalling and reliving the stress and pain of last summer and winter. This past year has been a period of intense growth for me, something I realized in part at the time but am continuing to grasp more fully now. And, sometimes, that's overwhelming. So I lay on my back in my bed and belt out songs to the ceiling like I did when I was 17.

one step forward, two steps back, in the hole, broken leg.

me: I am tired.
and I feel stagnant
Steve: in general or today?
me: sometimes I want to do so much that I get paralyzed by it and then I do nothing at all
both
I dunno. I think part of it is some residual sadness from things happening around me
one of our dr's wives had to get an abortion this week because they found out the baby had no cerebellum and wouldn't survive outside the womb
then I found out my cousin's wife has cancer that's spread to her spinal fluid and she has 2 kids and he's trying really hard to deal with it and they're treating it but, you know, you always think the worst
and then I keep...fantasizing (for lack of a better term) about attending her funeral and just the idea of it makes me feel guilty
I don't know. its not just that. it's just the idea that we will never be able to achieve everything we want to in life, that we will always have to settle for less and hope that what we settle for is fulfilling enough, that we make the "right" choices
I'm normally okay enough about this stuff, optimistic enough that I can and will be happy, but sometimes it gets to me.
Steve: It's hard to face that you have to settle and it's hard to ignore the could-have-beens
me: yeah it is.
and, in thinking about all this, I start thinking about loose ends, etc.
like, there was this guy (I think I told you about him?)
Steve: the abusive guy?
me: and I feel...fucked up about the way things went with him. to the point where I still think about it, still think about contacting him even though he cut off contact with me and probably has absolutely no desire to hear from me
no no, this is a different guy
*stuff here*
me: and, I don't know. it kind of broke my heart, surprisingly so, because I really LIKED that guy.
and I hate the abruptness of shit like that because I feel like contacting him isn't going to do ANY good, will probably just make it worse...but I still want to
Steve: I'd recommend against it at this point in time
me:yeah. I'm not going to. I know it's stupid. But it just saddens me.
because there are other situations like that. you were a situation like that, for me, for awhile and that saddened me too
but I guess it was different because I was angry at you and I'm not angry at him
(not that I am anymore )
I guess I tend to tie those situations in with the bigger picture of trying to be happy and it's hard for me to be happy when I feel like I've hurt someone.
it just...frustrates me about myself. that I can't let shit go, that I seemingly self-sabotage myself when things are happy and good
I feel like things can never be good enough
and sometimes that's a motivator, you know? to make things better. other times, it just makes me want to crawl in a hole.
you were laughing at me and calling me zippy, but there is something inside me that insists I be productive, that I not run in place. because the biggest depressor for me is feeling stagnant. it is absolutely my worse trigger.
sorry
I obviously needed to spill 
Steve: np
me:thanks
Steve: act like bp

Times like this, I like to listen to Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald's "Tenderly" and try to remember to be kind to myself.