Paste it in the head!

Spinster

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Bored bored bored

Oh my God. I am so bored. I'm at work. It's Saturday so there aren't that many people here and the ones who are seem to be able to work independently. The photocopiers aren't jamming or out of toner or anything. There are no computer crises.

I've read all of my blogs. No one seems to be emailing me. I don't have anything fun to "research" online.

I have this stupid cataloging assignment due on Tuesday that I'm half-heartedly working on but it's soooo boring. Not to mention that I don't know what the hell I'm talking about, so anything I do write is complete and utter bullshit.

I am so bored. Stephanie finally got here, so I have someone to talk to, but holy shit it was touch and go for a while there.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

So cool

This sounds so cool. I don't even like video games and it sounds cool. I like classical music and all, but this really livens things up a bit. However, the cheapest tickets are $65. I understand that it's expensive to put on a performance involving live music, but it's so irritating that these kinds of things are prohibitively expensive for people like me. Every time I look into doing something "cultural" like going to the ballet or the symphony or something, I balk at the prices. To be fair, the National Ballet of Canada offers The Nutcracker at reasonable prices, which is nice cause it's such a classic holiday show and everyone should see the Sugarplum Fairy at least once in their lives, and there are a lot of places around town that offer student discounts, but still. It's just annoying that you have to have a lot of money to be able to see the high cultural stuff.

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

The fat lady, she has sung

First of all, I'm sitting in my cataloguing class, typing this. I can honestly say that I have paid exactly no attention to this class. It's not because I don't want to, but we went over this stuff (AACR2) in my archival arrangement class last year, and I know that just blabbing about the rules isn't going to help me. Plus, I had some work to do for another class.

Anyway, the title of this post refers to the fact that I am no longer confused about things with me and that boy, military man. It's over. After a couple days of confusingly sweet I-like-you-I-like-you-too emails (and one "I kinda love you" email from him), I decided to take the bull by the balls. If there is one thing I don't deal well with in affairs of the heart, it's indecisiveness. In my mind, if you're not sure about being with me, we probably shouldn't be together. Last night, I called him and demanded that we discuss this, and that he give me an answer to the question, "If you weren't leaving, would you want to be with me?" After asking for more time to think about it and being denied said time (as I say, if you need time it ain't gonna happen), he said he figured we'd be better off as friends. To which I replied, "Ok. Or how about not." I don't really do the "friends" thing well, unless it's someone who I've gone out with for a long time. So, that's that. It's done. It's over.

Do I seem too rigid with this stuff, with these rules? Perhaps. I'm usually very quick to define things; I like categories, I like certainty--these things help me figure out the world and my place in it. Boys generally don't like that; they don't like being pinned down. Which I understand, but I can't seem to accept. I need to know if you want to be in a relationship with me. I don't do casual sex and I don't do fuck buddies. I am looking for a relationship, and if you're not, we're both wasting our time. As for being "friends," let's be honest about that. It very rarely works, trying to create a friendship out of something that wasn't based in friendship in the first place. The ONLY ex-boyfriend that I have any sort of relationship with currently is Vito, who I dated for three years in college. I wouldn't necessarily call us friends, cause our relationship is much more complicated than that, but we do keep in touch, albeit loosely. He is, quite honestly, the only ex I've ever been interested in maintaining a true relationship of some kind with, perhaps because we shared so much and he knew me so well.

I feel pretty drained from this drama with Military Man. I really liked him, and had hope for our relationship. But once again, it went nowhere. Universe, what the hell are you trying to tell me?

Sunday, September 24, 2006

Last night, I met Heather and her friend Colin at a restaurant on Bloor. Heather and Colin have known each other since they were babies and were catching up after not having seen each other in years. Colin spent a few years in Australia and Papua New Guinea, going to school and then living and working. When I got to the cafe, they'd already had a couple of drinks. I ordered a vodka cranberry and then the three of us shared a bottle of wine. We decided that, even though Heather and I are librarians and Colin spent the past year on a crazy island, we'd do Saturday night some justice and get shitty. We moved to the Green Room at about midnight, and proceeded to get just wasted.

Once you get to know me, I'm not shy. But sometimes I'll open up to someone when I barely know them, and I was so doing that with Colin. The three of us talked about all sorts of things: wacky parents, the trials and tribulations of moving home, sex and love. It turns out that Colin has a girlfriend in Australia and they're trying to decide whether or not she should move here. Somehow, Heather and I figured that we were in the right position to give someone else relationship/love life advice, and I'm pretty sure we poured it on thick. There were all kinds of sentences that started, "___________ (fill in the blank) does not a relationship make," and "How do you know you love her? You know you love her when ___________ (fill in the blank)." Oh man, we were in rare form. I'm pretty sure that we were all one drink away from declaring our undying love for one another. I probably would've made out with both of them at the same time, that's how lovey I was feeling. At the end of the night, Heather and I were both comforting Colin for something or other, and I actually started rubbing his arm. And not in a sexual way--just in a friendly, happy way. I'm never a mean drunk--I tend to get boisterous and outgoing when drinking--but I very, very rarely get all rainbows and puffy clouds on people.

The thing that makes me laugh about it today is that there is pretty much no way in hell that I'm qualified to give someone else relationship advice, and it amuses me that I considered myself to be an expert on such matters. I can't for the life of me figure out my own shit, let alone someone else's.

Case in point: I'm still somehow all tangled up with this stupid boy. Yeah, he gave me the time and space speech. Yeah, we broke up. We haven't seen each other in a week. We haven't talked on the phone. But we have been emailing each other, and I hate to say it, but I might have told him that we should keep emailing, get to know each other, and see how it goes. I also hate to admit it, but when he suggested that we get together before he goes on his epic China adventure, I agreed to do so. I might have told him that I still like him.

Damn it, damn it, damn it. I know intellectually that I should not be doing this. It's like playing with fire, and mama always said that when you do that, you're gonna get burned. And it makes me angry with myself because I can see the goddamn fire. It's not hiding; it's not covered up. It's right out there in the open, and every time I try to step away from it, something pushes me even closer than I was before. I tried to let Madonna talk some sense into me (You deserve the best in life / So if the time isn't right then move on / Second best is never enough / You'll do much better, baby, on your own) but even the Material Girl can't change the way I feel about this stupid guy.

I wish that I could do what's right, what my mind knows is right, and just walk away.

Wednesday, September 20, 2006

Observations at 8:39 am

1. My iPod must have been set on "awesome" this morning cause it played only great songs, and only great songs that I was in the mood for. Sometimes I want mopey and whiny; sometimes I want rockin' and raunchy. This morning I was in the latter mood, and I got Led Zeppelin and Guns n Roses. What more could a girl ask for?

2. A girl could ask for NO KEENERS, is what a girl could ask for. I'd like to report that at an ungodly hour (this one) there are 10 people here that I can see. There were four people waiting for me to open at 8. 8 am. No one I know would even remotely consider being here at that hour. Most of my friends are happy when they make it to class, let alone the library. What is wrong with these first year students? I'm not ok with the bar being set super high.

3. I am wearing the red sweater that I made last year, the one with the komodo dragon collar. It's only like the third time I've worn it, cause it's either too hot or too cold out to wear it properly, and with its crazy sleeves and collar I can't wear it under stuff easily. I loooove this time of year--the air is crisp and the leaves are just starting to change, but there's none of the hopelessness of winter with its barren trees and gun-metal skies.

4. Perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something by sending me a string of non-relationships. Maybe it's telling me that I'm not going to remain in Toronto, the way I didn't remain in Portland or Miami. Not that boys are the only reason to live somewhere, but they're a damn good one. Maybe the universe is telling me that I need to go to a windswept island (Scotland, perhaps?) and meet a windswept island man and have lots of dogs. Even if I don't meet a windswept island man, I can still live on a windswept island, right?

Monday, September 18, 2006

Treasures

So, this weekend I went to the Clothing Show with Alli, Kristen, Heather, and Lorien. It was fabulous. There were a lot of indie designers who sell their stuff on Queen West, but the prices at the show were significantly lower than Queen Street. There were also crafters, particularly jewelry crafters, who were displaying handmade items. It was really cool. I bought a tank top (not pictured cause I'm lazy). This bag was one of my favorite things at the show(note: I might be in love with this bag--it's made of cotton, is reversible, and is machine washable. It comes with two straps for different looks. What's not to love?):

The bag is by Bootyfly Bags. I was talking to the guy at the booth and he said that they are based in Alberta and this is their first foray into the wonderful world of Ontario. Their stuff is really cute.

Right before we left, I found these really cool zip-up cardigans, by Embody clothing. I love the asymmetrical look of this, and the funky polyester '70s cuffs:

There were a lot of other cool things at the booth, and I wish I'd paid closer attention to the crop tops/shrugs (check out the link to the website).

And, last but not least, check out the progress on my raglan sleeve knit-in-the-round sweater:

Close up of the sleeve shaping:

I stuck my arm into one of the sleeves and it's gonna be too short. I have two options: 1) take out the cuff and knit a few more inches, which sounds easy but would actually be a pain in the ass cause I'd be knitting down instead of up; or 2) tell people it's supposed to be the new style--the 7/8 length sleeve (instead of the 3/4 sleeve). I'm not sure which option is more appealing. I'm a bit reluctant to wuss out, cause I really like this sweater, but on the other hand, I wanna wear it already!

Sunday, September 17, 2006

Vagina


I love Lorien's new MacBook. iSight is so cool--doesn't this look like I'm kissing a vagina that is floating in midair?

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Girl power

So, I got this email from boy today and it basically called into question our compatibility. If you think about it, what exactly is compatibility? Sometimes I think it's sharing interests and viewpoints and having similar values; sometimes, I think it's all about just accepting people for who they are, and rolling with whatever and whomever is sent your way.

With this guy, it was clear from the start that there were some pretty significant differences between us. My life has been fairly straightforward--I've gone from high school to college to grad school. I've done a little bit of traveling and I've lived in a couple of different cities, but I haven't done anything too out of the ordinary. His life, on the other hand, has taken him to some pretty interesting places, both emotionally and geographically. I don't want to talk too much about his childhood, in part cause I am a little fuzzy on the details, and in part because I think it might be too sensitive a subject for the internet. His military career, though, is fair game. He joined at the age of 18 and served for over 7 years. He's seen Croatia and Afghanistan in combat, and has been to various other countries while on leave. He doesn't have any education past high school, and I'd like to point out that this was never an issue with me. I firmly believe that having degrees is not an indicator of intelligence, though I think he sees things a bit differently.

One of the major differences between us is that he is physical and I am cerebral. He makes a very conscious effort to engage in rigorous physical activity and I... well, let's just say that I am not exactly good friends with the inside of the gym. However, I make an effort to eat well, and I walk everywhere and take the stairs. I enjoy hiking and swimming; I just don't go to the goddamn gym, nor do I plan on changing that anytime soon.

Here's what I am--intelligent and irreverent and serious, a lot of the time. Somehow, I think that my seriousness got misinterpreted as sadness--before he left yesterday morning he said that he wanted me to be happy, and when I protested, saying that I didn't see myself as a miserable person, he said (and I quote):
"Well, I guess you don't see it."

Excuse me?

How in the name of hell can someone who has known me for less than a month make such a strong call on what is apparently a fundamental aspect of my personality? Is it because i told him I have depression and anxiety? If so, I'm glad he didn't meet me two or three years ago, when I was really in a shitty place. It may have taken me 25 years, but I am very, very aware of the fact that I am NEVER going to be happy-go-lucky. It's not who I am, it's not how I was raised. If you don't like it, don't be in my life. It's as simple as that.

So, he wrote in his email that he was concerned about our compatibility, and mentioned in his email that he wanted to hear my thoughts and feelings on the situation, so I wrote him this response

How long have you been feeling that our differences equal an inherent
incompatibility so strong that it will end in resentment on both of
our parts? Obviously, we are two different people, but I am having a
hard time understanding when you decided that our differences are that
strong. However, you've made it pretty clear in the past couple of
weeks that I'm not "nice" (read "bland"?) enough for you, nor do I
have the right approach to spirituality and exercise. If you are
looking for a docile, demure, cheerleader-type girl who prays in
between marathons, that's not who I am and I will not apologize for
it. Also, I'm pretty sure that from the night we met, I never even
tried to give you the impression that I was anything other than who I
am. Honestly, I want to date someone who likes me for who I am, even
though I have depression and I'm serious and despite the fact that I
don't work out. You're right—I'm not going to change. As for you, I
never thought you should change. I never thought that the things that
make you different from me were problematic.


I debated being less sarcastic, but how could I resist?

When I received his email, Alli and Kristen were over, and Lorien was home (I have a roommate again, thank God), and I'd like to say that I LOVE my friends. I love that they are so supportive of me. It makes all of this so much easier, knowing that they do like me for who I am, and can call bullshit on someone who isn't willing to accept me.

Not to mention that we (see above plus Heather) spent the day shopping (those of you in Toronto, get thee to my new favorite thing. You can thank me tomorrow, and we'll compare goodies) and eating gorging ourselves at Red Lobster.

So, thanks, ladies, for making my life that much better, and for reminding me that 1) we all make mistakes, and 2) there ain't nothing wrong with me that a little shopping and seafood can't fix.

Friday, September 15, 2006

Space and time: a reflection

Oh man. I just got the whole "I like you...but" speech. As in, "I like you, but I need some time and space. We're so different. This is so much work, and I just don't know if I have the energy for it right now." Time and space, huh? Would that we all had the luxury to ask for that--"Yeah, master's program? I think I just need a little space right now. I'm feeling a bit smothered by you--the papers and exams, they fly at me so fast and I just don't think I can deal with them at the moment. Can we talk again in a couple of weeks?"

Ugh. I fucking hate this shit. Obviously. I am a little bit confused by how it all happened. As I've written, there was one day with no contact. Then yesterday when I got home, there was a message on my answering machine from him. When we were talking, he asked me what I was doing that evening:

Boy: What are you up to tonight?
Girl: Nothing. I'll probably do some laundry. How about you?
Boy: Well, I was thinking of visiting you.
Girl: Ooh, really? If you do, though, you gotta know that it's all about me tonight.
Boy: What does that mean?
Girl: That means, like, hella massages. [Yeah, I know. "Hella"? What the fuck?] You totally owe me!
Boy [getting a little pissy]: Uh, I don't "owe" you anything. If I come see you, it's cause I want to, not cause I feel obligated to.

Well, that little wrinkle had to be smoothed out, and then things were fine. Sort of. I told him a story about work yesterday, and how I tried to bribe one of my friends to get me a cookie with some high demand books, but she was having none of it. He said, "I would've totally gotten you a cookie, but I guess not everyone is as nice as me, including you."

And here is where I go off on a little tangent/rant about the importance of being nice. First of all, if you're looking for "nice," you're seriously barking up the wrong tree. I am nothing if not not "nice." I don't usually go out of my way to be mean, and I certainly don't think I'm cruel, but I'm definitely not one of those people who you meet and go, "Oh, she is so nice." Second of all, what a lame, bland adjective anyway. I'm not sure, and correct me if I'm wrong, but it would seem to me that only boring people are nice. People without opinions, without standards, without actual fucking experiences--those are nice people. I don't WANT to be charming and smiley to everyone. Why? Cause that means that instead of repelling all of the fucktards that I repel, I would actually have to be chummy with them. Clearly, this is not something I am interested in. And third of all, GIRLS AREN'T NICE. News flash? Apparently. Here I was, thinking that everyone knew that already, but I guess not. None of my girlfriends are nice. They can be, sure, and they're all very caring people, but I wouldn't go out of my way to describe them as nice. Girls, women, whatever, are complex and emotional and intelligent and manipulative and caring and funny and about a billion other things. BUT WE'RE NOT NICE. So fucking get over it.

I didn't exactly tell him all of that; what I did say is that I'm not nice, I've never really aspired to being nice, and there's not a lot about that that's gonna change any time soon. Anyway, I convinced him to come over, which he did. He brought a "cheer Tasha up" care package that included: M&Ms (I'm eating them for breakfast as I write this), Cadbury Fruit & Nut, Real Fruit gummies, chocolate milk, and a comic book. I went to the LCBO and bought wine, so we had wine and ate candy. We watched The Office. We went to bed. We woke up this morning. (There is some other stuff that happened in between the last two that I can't write about on this blog.)

He was getting ready to leave, after we'd discussed some issues related to the thing I can't write about, and before he did, he climbed back into bed with me, spooned me and said, "I like you." I said, "I like you too. Is there a 'but' after that?" He said there was, and that's when I got the space and time speech.

So, if any of you see me this weekend (with Kristen from the internet and Alli), I'll be the really, really drunk girl who will be polling everyone, trying to find out what is wrong with me and why I can't seem to keep a guy around for longer than a month.

Hope your Friday is better than mine.

Thursday, September 14, 2006

Once again, class time provides a good opportunity to write out a blog post. This time, I'm sitting in Technical Services, which could be good or could be too basic. I mean, I sincerely hope I don't end up "learning" how to affix labels to the spines of books. I hate the beginning of term class shuffle.

Anyway, I'm sure that no one but me cares about this. Moving on.

I don't really have anything exciting to say or report. I signed up for a step aerobics class that meets tonight, but due to a laundry complication, I won't be able to attend. However, I ate muesli with blueberries for breakfast, so I figure that pretty much counts as working out, particularly if I have sushi for dinner. When I mentioned this concept to Heather, she pointed out that by eating Fiber 1 for breakfast she'd practically run a marathon. Everyone knows that if two girls agree on something, it's pretty much true, so having already done my exercise for the day (<--ha! as if I exercise daily), I'm not gonna feel guilty about doing laundry tonight.

In other developments, several friends have pointed out that perhaps I'm being too hard on boy. Is it inconceivable that he was busy and couldn't call? they ask. To that, I say, "Let's revisit He's Just Not That Into You." In its almighty wisdom, it points out that boys (guys, men, whatever) cannot simultaneously be the rulers of the world and be incapable of calling their girlfriends. That's what I am, folks--a girlfriend, one who believes that a phone call, particularly a returning-you-call phone call, isn't too much to ask. So, I guess my feeling is that there are some mixed messages being sent my way from this guy:
*According to him on Saturday, I am his number one priority
*Phone calls on Monday and Tuesday
*Avoidance on Monday of the question, "When will I see you again?"
*When pressed for an answer on Tuesday to above question, a "party" on Saturday night is produced and an invitation is extended (the word party is in quotation marks because it's not exactly a raging kegger to which I was [half-heartedly?] invited)
*Yesterday's email and phone call went unreturned
Confusing? You betcha.

Meanwhile, Aundra is all a-flutter over a new guy, which is cool and great for her. Unfortunately, when we spoke last night, I advised her--with maybe a touch of bitterness in my voice--to not expect the mutual enthusiasm to last. For that, I apologize--it wasn't very cool for me to project my woes onto her. And yes, I am well aware, having been informed of it twice in the past few days, that I could've been the fifth main character on Seinfeld.

Over and out, kids.

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Ch-ch-ch-changes

So, I originally started this blog because it was required for a class, but I'd wanted to start one for a while before that. I had dreams delusions of grandeur of starting the Next Great Knitting Blog. I think that's like writing the next great American novel--sounds easy, but when it comes down to it, it's a hell of a lot of work. And clearly, I'm not the knitting genius I'd like to be. I removed myself from the GTA Knitblogs Ring so that I wouldn't feel guilty about blogging about boys and school and pretty much everything except knitting. I will still show pictures of my projects but "Spinster" now refers primarily to my ability to not attract/keep around decent, cute, non-wimpy boys and not the fact that I have a spinning wheel.

Anyway. I am so fucking grumpy right now. What a goddamn dreary day--when I woke up for work at 6:15 it was pitch fucking black in my room, and I could hear the rain through my closed window. I almost didn't believe that it was actually morning and awake time, but a quick look at two clocks took care of that. It turns out that I own the world's most useless umbrella. Like, fuck you, umbrella, could you even TRY to keep my goddamn THIGHS dry? Cause as much as I love having clammy, wet jeans-clad thighs at 8 am, I actually hate that shit.

After sitting through a fairly boring meeting, I headed home. I WANTED to take a nap, talk to boy, and eat dinner. What I DID was call boy, not leave message, take nap, and wake up in a worse mood than before. What the hell? I emailed him a VERY witty email:

Hi! <--Ok, it may be a bit too early in the morning for enthusiastic punctuation. I'll try to see that it doesn't happen again. Anyway. It was brought to my attention this morning by the weather that it's time to invest in a new umbrella. No more of this girlie, urban, retractable shit. I want the full-on old man New York in the 1940s style of umbrella. The kind that isn't flipped inside out by a light breeze. The kind that keeps both my hair and my pants dry.

I'm drinking what I think is a cup of weak coffee, but all my taste buds register right now is "hot" and "liquid", which seems to suffice, so I guess I don't really care whether it's weak or strong or good or bad. (As you can tell, I'm not the world's best morning person.)

So, because I don't really have anything to actually talk about, I'll bore you with stories of knitting. So I'm making this really pretty cotton sweater in the round, and last night I joined the arms to the body. That is the first time I've done something of that nature, and I have to say, I was pretty damn proud of myself when I finished. Maybe I'll actually complete this project? I'm not gonna guarantee it, cause that would jinx me for sure, so let's just say I can sort of see a light at the end of this particular tunnel.

Anyway. God this email is useless.

Have a fabulous, dry day.

Take care,
Tasha


AND I called him at like 6:30. It is now 9:19, and I have received neither a response to my email (how could you not respond to something like that?) nor a phone call. Um, is it not courteous to call someone back?

This is when my panic mode is in full swing. In my head, we've broken up, we're done, I've made out with, like, two other guys, but on the inside, I'm pretty sad. Why? Cause, fuck man, I LIKE(d) this guy.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

...and, end resolutions. Plus some boy musings.

First week of school and resolutions have already been broken. The procrastination? It has begun (although not too badly, since I did a bunch of photocopying this afternoon and plan on reading tonight). Paying attention in class? I'm writing this from Introduction to Bibliographic Control. (It's not my fault that it's boring, though, right?)

Ok. Let's talk about my burgeoning relationship with my military man. We spent Saturday night/Sunday morning/Sunday afternoon together, and as usual it was great. At this point, we're still learning about each other and I think that the all-too-human aspects of our personalities (and by our personalities, I mean my personality) and differences in worldview have begun to emerge.

I guess that I'm specifically talking about certain traits that I have that aren't wonderful and that can make me a difficult person to get along with. (Although I like to think that these same traits make me a complex and interesting person, but that's neither here nor there.) Can I just be honest for a second? (Hell yeah, I can. This is my blog!) See, I'm not the nicest or most altruistic person on earth: I don't love babies, sometimes I hate people because their clothes suck or because they're too cheerful in the morning (loud girl in class, I'm talking to you!), and I can be really selfish. My boy, on the other hand, is practically the definition of "kind." He reserves judgment, or tries to, until he actually knows a person--I've heard this is called "giving people a chance," but what the hell do I know?--and certainly would never claim to hate anyone simply because they don't hate mornings. He's in between activities at the moment, and so he's volunteering at the SPCA, a nursing home, and a soup kitchen. The last time I volunteered? Was cause I didn't feel like getting a job and needed something to put on my resume. (And it was at a historic house, not a soup kitchen.) Compound these aspects of my personality with my impermeable (so far) tendency to see the glass as half-empty, and I wonder how long someone as good as my boy will be sticking around.

However--and this next bit is simply to assuage my own self-doubt--I hope he can see beyond the crotchety surface. I may not like everyone in the world, or even humanity in general, but I love those I do like. I don't suffer fools gladly, but I like to think that means I have standards. I can be a fiercely loyal friend. I try not to be careless with others' feelings (though sometimes I fail, inevitably). I love animals and hate money. I believe fervently in human rights. I am, at the very least, aware of my shortcomings, for whatever that's worth. Basically, while I may not be the next Mother Theresa, I also don't think I'm a candidate for the fiery depths of hell. I guess that, right now, he's still up on the pedestal--even though he was teetering over the weekend, he hasn't fallen. I kind of wish he would, cause then I wouldn't worry so much about how undeserving I am of my own pedestal.

Sunday, September 10, 2006

Inconvenience

I saw Al Gore's movie, An Inconvenient Truth, last night. I don't even know what to say about it. I mean, I loved it. To me, there's nothing more important than protecting our planet and all of the life on it, and it pisses me off infuriates me that there is so little action being taken about the mess we've made of things. I'm sorry that cleaning it up would require such painful things as switching to fluorescent light bulbs and turning off our electronic appliances when they're not in use. It is tragic that the United States would have to invest in public transportation infrastructure, as well as completely overhaul our gas miles per gallon standards.

I just don't get it.

I don't understand how and why people are so reluctant to believe and understand that global warming is not only real, but is happening currently, and is only going to get worse.

I don't understand why people are so unwilling to accept our undeniable culpability. One of the greatest things about being the cause of a problem? Generally, that also makes it easier to do something about it. And the things that are often proposed really aren't that painful. They're depressingly simple, actually, and that's what makes the specter of global warming so scary to me--if we aren't willing to take the simplest of steps (using fluorescent bulbs, walking every now and again instead of driving, eating locally grown produce instead of fruits and vegetables flown in from great distances), what the hell are we going to do about global warming when it starts to really fuck with us? When the sea levels start rising in earnest? When we see hurricane seasons that mirror 2005 each year?

Why do people refuse to take this seriously???

Friday, September 08, 2006

This is the new year

I know that technically the new year begins on January 1st (though I think that the new year should coincide with the advent of spring, but that’s another post for another day), but for me, the new year has always begun in September. I have been in educational institutions in one form or another since I was three years old. I took a two-year break in between college and grad school, but for twenty years of my twenty-five-year life, September equals the beginning of a new season, a new year.

Each year, come September, I would make the familiar school-related resolutions—this year I’m gonna study harder, get all of my homework done, not procrastinate. This year I’m gonna get all As. I’ll join clubs and take exercise classes and be outgoing and popular.

Of course, within weeks those resolutions would fade away, and I’d start blowing off homework for pleasure reading and the procrastinating would begin in earnest. I might have joined clubs but my shoddy attendance record would soon reveal my inherent dislike for organized activities—and I love the Groucho Marx sentiment of not wanting to be a part of a club that would have people like me as members. As for exercise, it’s not that I’m opposed to it when it comes to doing fun physical activities like hiking or snorkelling, it’s that going to the gym just bores me. I have never been accused of being an overachiever, and that’s the way I like it.

Still, there’s something so motivating and refreshing about starting a new school year. Classes haven’t begun so they haven’t had a chance to get painfully boring. My free time hasn’t been sucked away by homework and essays and lectures, so I can still spare some time for clubs and fitness. I can totally imagine throwing myself into school with gusto, and finally achieving those straight As.

So, in light of that, I’d like to present my completely naïve and why-the-hell-doesn’t-she-ever-learn New School Year Resolutions.

  1. I will attend each and every lecture.
  1. I will be interested in what I am supposed to be learning; after all, if I’m going to make a career out of this stuff, I might as well enjoy it.
  1. I will not procrastinate.
  1. I will do all of my homework.
  1. I will be an involved member of the ALA student chapter.
  1. I will sign up for and actually attend two fitness classes (ballet and step aerobics this time).
(Right off the bat, I can tell you that Resolutions 1-4 will be broken, probably by the second week of class. Resolution 5 I might be able to swing, but Resolution 6 is clearly wishful thinking. Oh well--to thine own self be true, right?)

Tuesday, September 05, 2006

GYHUS

Last night, my roommate and I were discussing the pitfalls of new relationships—namely, Getting Your Hopes Up Syndrome. I’m in this new relationship, right, and I’m still figuring it out. It’s only been 2 weeks, but I really like the guy. There seems to be some concern, from my roommate at least, that I might be too enthusiastic about this, too hopeful, too soon. I know that Lorien cares about me and doesn’t want to see me get hurt; in warning me about GYHUS, she’s essentially trying to protect me from myself, cause for all of my flippancy and who-gives-a-shit attitude, I am, unfortunately, emotionally fragile.

I appreciate Lorien’s concern, but I’d like to say a few words in defense of hopes and single girls.

Single girls are nothing if not hopeful. I’d say, in dating and relationships and intimacy and love, it’s all we’ve got. A lot of us—most of us—have been in love, have had our hearts broken, have dated jerks and guys who were nice but were just not that into us. I’ve watched my friends go through the same shit, and each time, it’s always the same. It always begins with hope.

How can we not get our hopes up? How can we meet guys who are (finally) all of whatever it is we’re looking for, and who tell us that we’re beautiful and smart and sexy and perfect, and not be hopeful? The day I hear those things and feeling nothing, or even worse, jaded and cynical, is the day I die.

Yes, being cautious is probably good. Having an instinct for self-preservation is undoubtedly better. But if I am always cautious and always looking for and waiting for someone to mind-fuck me, isn’t that sad? Shouldn’t I allow myself some mental masturbation?

I mean, I am the last person on earth to fantasize about my wedding day, and I never go around naming my children with someone. I don’t believe that love is roses and candles and poetry, puffy clouds and fucking rainbows, but I would like to believe that love, whatever it is, whatever form it takes, is possible. For better or worse, I hope for that.

Monday, September 04, 2006

My super awesome weekend

Fact: It is possible to turn this

into this

in two days and 13 episodes of Six Feet Under, which is my new favorite show.

Fact: I have lots of "new favorite" shows.

Fact: I might just be addicted to series television that I can watch on my computer.

So, yeah. I got a lot of knitting done this weekend and a lot of TV watching done, too. I did go out on a date on Friday night, which turned into Saturday morning, which turned into Saturday afternoon. It was excellent. I also went to a potluck last night, which was nice, except for the fact that I am a big fucking loser when it comes to social interactions. Seriously. My roommate's father asks me a question, and I blush and stammer my way through an answer. I wish for an Invisibility Cloak, a la Harry Potter, so that I could just meander through life, making few waves and no impact. Yes, I took my medication today. It's just one of those low self-esteem days that I try to remedy via retail therapy, which only serves to make me notice the size of my ass but also provides me with a new pair of shoes. Yeah, mom, we all know I'm a shoe whore. Moving on.

Friday, September 01, 2006

Why does this bother me?

We broke up three years ago this summer. He was my first real love, my first real boyfriend, the first (and only) boyfriend I've ever lived with. We broke up about six months later than we should have and it COMPLETELY fucked me up. We'd just graduated from college and most of my friends had moved away. I had no job and no place to live, and he left for an overseas program in Ecuador with the tentative understanding that when he returned we would resume our cohabitation. I found a temporary place to live and then visited my parents for a couple of months. In the meantime, he returned from Ecuador, thought things through, and realized that our relationship was over and he was over it. We broke up over the phone when I was still in Miami.

As I said, it really fucked me up.

However, I don't exactly regret anything that's happened since. After that stumble, I picked myself up (and by I, I mean "my friends, family, and I"). I found a job and a different place to live. I started going out with other guys. Eventually, after a shitty post-graduation year in Portland, I moved back home and began the process of applying to grad school.

The ex and I are still sort of in touch. We sort of keep each other up to date on the events in our lives, including moves and grad school and new relationships. He lived in the Czech Republic for a year or so and met a girl there. I HATE that girl. Hate her. Have no idea what she looks like, acts like, who she votes for, what she wears, but I hate her. She has my birthday. It's not bad enough that my ex-boyfriend, my epic relationship, moved on and found someone else. No. She has to have my birthday, too? Bitch.

Anyway, so this guy and I are back in touch apparently, cause he emailed me yesterday. I asked him a bunch of questions about his life in Barcelona, including (stupidly) "Have you hooked up with any Spanish girls?"

He wrote back, answering all of my questions, and in response to that one, revealed that he is--and I quote--"still hung up" on what I like to call That Romanian Bitch Who Has My Birthday And Should Die.

Ugh. I soooo thought that, at this point, after three years and three cities, one year of grad school and more boys than I care to count, I'd be over it. I am dating (I think) a boy who is cute and smart and sweet and interesting and WHO FUCKING BROUGHT ME FLOWERS THE OTHER NIGHT, and I'm still gonna get a little disgruntled that my ex-boyfriend has some long-distance pseudo-romance with a floozy girl? What is wrong with me?