Cupcake and Clydesdales
Budweiser period, kittens.In writing the rundown of my weekend with Bradshaw, I decided that I am boring. I am at peace with that.
Friday was for enormous burritos and
The Office at home. Hawk, my quasi-fiancée, joined us, though he left when I mentioned that Project was planning to join us. In hindsight, I wish Hawk had stayed. Perhaps I should explain my engagement: About a year ago, Hawk learned that I bake. More specifically, he learned that one of my specialties are chocolate Guinness cupcakes with Bailey's cream cheese frosting. He proposed, and we decided that if we're both still single in five years (four, now) we'd get hitched. It's all very '90s sitcom and I like it.
Saturday morning, I dragged Bradshaw with me to a shop with cake decorating supplies. Rather, she drove me to the decorating shop and didn't complain while I looked at everything. Cookie cutters, fondant tools, sanding sugar, luster dust - and that was just the start. Be ready for sugar cookie Christmas lights and gingerbread snowflakes!
Part of what I bought. Look at those cookie cutters!We headed to the Central West End for cupcakes at The Cupcakery, so my lunch was a yellow cupcake with chocolate buttercream frosting. Worth it.
And that evening? We watched more episodes of
The Office. More specifically, we finished watching all of seasons two and three. I've decided that I want to be the Pam to someone's Jim. Not in a romantic sense though; I want to work with someone who's that much fun and amuses me that consistently.
Sunday morning was bagels, Starbucks, and the tour of the Budweiser brewery. The information about the brewing process? Honestly, nothing special. Beer is beer, even when you're picky like me. The history of the company and the brewery, however, was interesting. How they managed to survive Prohibition, the school that operated on brewery property, the inclusion of
Grimm's Fairy Tale characters in their marketing and architecture - all very cool.
The end of my sampleYou might think that the best part of a brewery tour is the samples at the end. Yes, those are good, but the best part of a Budweiser brewery tour is the animals. Clydesdale horses and dalmatians, kittens! And these animals live better than people I know; their stable is air conditioned and has stained glass windows. If I am reincarnated as an animal, I choose to be a cat in my mom's house or a Budweiser Clydesdale.
Blurry, I know, but do you see the window? Lucky horse. He's probably been on TV.I'm going to say that the weekend ended there, because the nine-hour debacle that was getting home is kind of a drag.
Yes, I took the photos. That's why they are mediocre at best.Labels: alcohol, Bradshaw, updates
It's Like Squishing a Spider Under a Book
I didn't have particularly high hopes for meeting Project this weekend. I'm young enough that not seeing someone for a "long time" is rarely measured in years with double digits, and even so, I try not to let people slip out of my life unless I want them to go away.
Late Friday evening, after giant Qdoba burritos, I invited Project to come watch episodes of
The Office with Bradshaw and me. I proceeded to get more antsy and more awkward. I think, if forced to put a name to the feeling in my stomach, it was dread. The moment I invited him, it felt like a bad idea. After Bradshaw gave him directions, I realized that another part of what I felt was embarrassment. I was embarrassed of him, a bit, and of myself for having been "with" him - or whatever it was that we were. I suddenly didn't want Bradshaw, who knows me better than most anyone and from whom I keep very few secrets, to even meet him.
It was very uncomfortable and he hadn't even arrived.
When he arrived, I felt more relaxed. It was immediately clear that I'm no longer attracted to him (in fact, I had that moment of 'what did I ever see in you?'). I caught myself comparing him to my Quasi-Fiancee, who had been there before - and Project was not coming out ahead in any of my vague internal categories.
I caught myself putting physical barriers between myself and him, first taking a seat on the couch next to Bradshaw and later pulling my feet up to the side between us. I was sleepy, and every time an episode ended, I wished fervently that it was the last on the disc. Eventually, that was the case and I basically told him to go home. Given the former nature of our relationship, I made it very clear a few weeks ago that if we did meet up when I was in the city, nothing physical would happen between us. I think he thought I was kidding, because he seemed a little miffed when I said I wanted to sleep; he asked if he did something wrong. I explained that I'd been up for a while and I was worried about disturbing Bradshaw who I knew had gotten up earlier than I had. There was an incredibly awkward side-hug, he left, and I paced through the apartment for thirty minutes trying to unravel the weird in my brain.
At one point, he looked over and asked if I thought he had changed. I answered, honestly, "not really that I can tell." He considered me for a moment, then said, "yeah, I don't think you have either."
And all I could think was
I have I have I have!
I've grown and changed and matured. I'm more intelligent, more positive, more jaded. I approach situations and people with different attitudes and standards. Project seems exactly the same as he did five years ago, and the person I am now finds that more than a little off-putting, to be frank. The person I am now can't seem to help judging him for being exactly the same. I kind of wish I'd left well enough alone.
Labels: boys, personal growth, updates
In Which Mercury Bites Me in the Ass
Mercury's retrograde cycles tend to be pretty kind to me, but I knew that if ever one was going to get me,
this was going to be it. And, in fact, it did.
After a fantastic weekend with Bradshaw (about which you'll get more information later), I left the city at almost exactly 4 pm to start my four-hour drive home. I was pretty proud of myself; I was always the girl who didn't make it back to the dorms until almost midnight after a weekend home (and that drive was only an hour and a half), and this time I managed to leave early enough that I'd make it home around sunset.
A little over an hour into my trip, I stopped for gas and a snack. Filled the tank, reset the trip, toyed with the GPS, situated myself. I turned the key and, predictably, the car started.
Then died.
Repeatedly.
I called my dad, who proceeded to berate me for really ridiculous and inconsequential things ("Why did you go to that gas station instead of the truck stop? Why didn't you tell me you were planning to get food? Why didn't you get food before you got gas?") and stress me to tears. So while I sat in my car, sweltering in the sun and crying, it was decided that my parents would come with the tow dolly they use with their RV and drag my car home.
I called Bradshaw and stress-cried to her for a bit, but finally managed to quell the annoying tears. I walked to a nearby fast food restaurant and suddenly felt homeless, which I shared in a text message. Then my phone began to beep, informing me that it was going to die. Awesome. I went into battery conservation mode (don't touch it no matter how much you want to know what time it is) and stepped into the bathroom to attempt to make myself look presentable without sunglasses. And learned that my lady time* had come early. Super awesome.
Let's review. It is now 6:30 pm, I am three hours from home with a dead car sitting in a gas station parking lot off the interstate, and the death of my phone is imminent. Additionally, I am female, very petite, and it is obvious that I have been crying.
I sat at a picnic table until the sun set around 8, pretending to read Catching Fire and hiding my laptop under my purse next to me on the bench. I say pretending because sitting outside alone at a gas station made me a little anxious. When it started to get dark, I locked myself in the car, leaving behind some of the anxiety; now there's metal and glass between me and my would-be attacker.
At 9:30 (four hours after my arrival at the gas station), my parents rolled up. My dad got in my car, turned the key, and drove out of the parking lot.
Motherfucker.
I've always known that my car was female. See, I believe that cars, particularly older cars, have genders and personalities. Mine is a female prone to throwing hissy fits. Bradshaw and I named her S&M a few years back, a play on the name of the paint color**, but she certainly lived up to the sadistic part of the equation.
It was decided that instead of towing the car, I would just follow my parents home. Unfortunately, there was fog, so taking the 30 miles of rural highway that would cut almost an hour off the trip was a bad idea. We had to take the long-but-safe way. Sigh.
I like driving. I especially enjoy taking these sorts of trips alone; I sing with the radio at ridiculous volumes, dance in my seat, and tell stories in my head (and sometimes out loud). I like being in control and I like the solitude. I like these trips even more when I'm not in a hurry to get to my final destination, though I still speed and get annoyed when another driver forces me to slow down.
I did not enjoy the trip home this time around. What was meant to be a drive that took about four hours ended up being a nine-hour debacle. I had
plans for that drive, kittens. All thwarted. I don't typically find driving exhausting, but when we rolled into town at one a.m., all I wanted to do was get. out. of. the. car.
Mercury bit me in the ass. Hard.
*All of the euphemisms we have to choose from for the lady time? They suck. And I will probably never mention that natural occurrence ever again on this blog. I'm actually shocked that I did it this time.
**The sticker lists the color as "spruce metallic." My car is not green by any stretch of the imagination. It is gray.Labels: astrology, drama, updates
Nic Returns, Part 73
I have succumbed to peer pressure.
I've always been a sporadic blogger, and it wasn't really surprising to me when I abandoned the blog again about a year ago. I'd just moved back to Small Town and I felt like I didn't have anything interesting to talk about any longer. I wasn't working, I was far from friends, and I had no romantic - or sexual - prospects on the horizon. Unless you wanted to read post after post about what I was watching on television and the indignity of being forced to ask your mother for money to buy cat food, the blog was going to be pointless.
Ten months back in Small Town, I've found my way. I started substitute teaching, I discovered a love of (and talent for) baking, and I've made peace with my solitude. People have slipped out of and back into my life. My interests have deepened and broadened.
I'm happy.
So, while I can't promise that it will be consistently - or ever - interesting, and I can't swear that I'll even post with any sense of predictability, I'm back.
Potential topics up for discussion in the near future: astrology, my adventures in baking, the reappearance of Project, loneliness and its lack of presence, my desire and failure to be type-A, my thoughts on philosophy and Ayn Rand, and what's going on with my career. I will also continue to share favorite quotations and to celebrate Things I Love Thursdays.
Here we go.
Labels: updates
Ka-Pow!*
Since I last posted, I've been busy. Celebrating Bradshaw's birthday, working a book signing, and then being incredibly ill. There's no way that I can present you with a coherent post explaining all of that, so today you shall enjoy updates and observations in bullet points.
- I really dig french fries.
- Since I have no access to espresso in Small Town (if I thought a stranger would send me an espresso machine for Christmas, I would post my address online, seriously), when I find myself in a place where I can get it, I drink far too much of it all at once.
- Politicians are always late, and Mike Huckabee's fans are, at least, not the crazy Conservatives.
- Making photo collages with Picasa is addictive and inspiring.
- I cannot finish anything.
- Blowing my nose sets off my gag reflex about a third of the time, which is really frustrating when you have a head cold.
- The first part of the Project Runway finale is never good as I want it to be for one big reason: no runway show.
- Smoked chicken makes awesome soup, and I really like making soup in general.
- My living room isn't big enough for my Christmas tree, and I have no idea where to put it. This is the only reason that I do not have Christmas decorations up yet. That may change today.
- I actually managed to take cold medicine without turning into a raging bitch.
- Carrie Underwood is adorable.
- It's going to start feeling like winter, which makes me fabulously happy. The cats can feel it and are therefore doing weird stuff.
- I spend all of my money on groceries. Mostly because I have very little money, but also because I have almost no expenses.
- This year I will be mailing the gifts that I bought for people last year. I'm awesome.
- I skinned my knees for the first time since I hit double-digit age last weekend.
*Like a gun. Bullets...get it? Yeah, not funny.Labels: lists, updates
False Eyelashes*
Admittedly, I have nothing terribly exciting to write about today. I had written a post about my undying love for winter and Christmas, but I think that you're aware of that by now. And, if you aren't, just go back to the archives and see what I've written before. We'll save the Christmas love for December and the winter love for when it actually appears, rather than celebrating it preemptively.
Then I thought I might tell you about the excitement that's coming this week - tons of fun is cooking - but then I thought that it might be more fun to tell you about how much fun I had rather than how much fun I will have. So, the exploits of my weekend celebrating Bradshaw's birth will be forthcoming.
I considered sharing my to do list with you, then realized that it was largely populated with things like "do the massive pile of dishes" and "vacuum the living room" and "sort the laundry." These things are not interesting to me, so why on earth would I expect you to find them anything but snoozy?
Since I clearly have nothing of substance to tell you about, you are going to get an update of my weekend in bullet points while Puck digs in the couch cushions looking for the feather toy that is no longer stashed there.
- Friday was productive. I did dishes, made a "Lemon Lemon Loaf," did the dishes from that, made the cupcakes for what I have dubbed the "Trick and Treat Cupcakes," and then left those dishes in the sink. Did I mention that I no longer have a dishwasher and therefore must do the dishes by hand? And also that I detest doing dishes? Well, now you know. I also watched the DVR'ed episode of Gossip Girl from Monday and found myself quite amused. Admittedly, it's another show that I prefer watching on DVD; it's somehow better when you can watch several episodes in just a few hours rather than over several weeks.
- Saturday was spent assembling the "Trick and Treat Cupcakes," the idea and recipe for which came from the ever-lovely Spiff. In the center of each cupcake was the hidden surprise of....Pop Rocks! Comments about my love of lemon prompted me to use white cupcakes instead of lemon, but I did maintain the lemon frosting. I have a rule about cupcakes particularly and desserts in general: Keep three, pass off the rest. So, the cupcakes were taken to my parents' restaurant, where everyone was surprised and strangely amazed by the effervescent filling. (Actual stupid comment: "I would have thought that they would melt if you baked them." This would be less stupid if it came from a real child, but it came from a 23-year-old moron.) I rounded out the evening with a marathon phone call with Bradshaw.
- Sunday was lazy day, spent primarily with scrambled eggs with Asiago cheese and the book I just started reading, The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing. I watched the new Storm Chasers and reruns of House. And did not do my dishes.
My current plan for today involves housework, phone calls, writing, and planning. I am going to take this week to enjoy autumn - which I'm hating far less this year than in those previous - and be content. Next week, I'll start decorating for Christmas. All that's left is to figure out where to put the tree....
*Nope, the title of this post has absolutely nothing to do with the content. Labels: holidays, updates
Back Among the Living
In five days, I will be officially moved back to Small Town. Currently, my bedroom contains my bed, nightstand and lamp, television, and the laundry basket that I am living out of. The bed isn't going with me. My life isn't here any more.
Things of note: Next Tuesday I will have my "final" Piano Bar Tuesday night. It's been months since I've gone - my last experience wasn't exactly a positive one. Hershey - who I, of course, haven't eradicated from my life - is now their in-house drummer. The evening has potential to be interesting on that basis, but more so due to the fact that I will be out with Spark and whomever else decides to attend with me. The only thing that could make the evening's plans better would be if Bradshaw were able to attend.
Wednesday morning will mark my last before I head back home. So excited am I about that first night in my own house (!) again that I've already made plans. There will be grocery shopping and kitty snuggling and nudity. I am going to make myself a pizza and I may enjoy a tipple or two. I have every intention of baking something delicious and completely terrible for me - in short, I'm looking forward.
I read somewhere that anticiption and anxiety are simply the manifestation of living in the future rather than in the moment. True enough, I think, but it's not always something one can control. I cannot help how excited I am, and I don't want to. Yes, there are certainly people who I will miss seeing every day. But they aren't people that I will never see again, and it isn't as if keeping in touch will be an issue - I'm less than two hours away!
I choose to stop writing now and leave you with the promise of more cohesive, well-thought posts at a later date. At the moment, I am simply too distracted to write you something of substance and focus. Forgive me.
Also, because I am very pleased with it: I bought a laptop. It is black and shiny and allows me to write to you from the library and other excellent places.
Labels: Small Town, updates
Change for the Better
So, yes, for the last month or so, Nic has fallen off the face of the blogger planet. I would apologize, but I try not to say that I'm sorry unless I truly am - and I think the break was a good idea. I was starting to be an exceptionally negative person, and since I made a vow back in February to stop being negative on the blog, that meant simply not writing. It took a few more weeks to realize exactly why I was so unhappy, but I think I've gotten there, and now I'm taking steps to rectify the situation.
Three weeks from now, I will be moved back to Small Town. Part of my unhappiness was rooted in this feeling of stagnation. I took a year off after I graduated to figure out exactly what it was that I wanted; it was important to me to make sure that I was going to miss teaching if I wasn't there and to make sure that the place, geographically, that I was would make me happy long-term. I spent the last six months resting on my laurels far too much, and the second I realized that I couldn't do this for another year, I realized that it was too late to feasibly do anything about it. I decided that this school year, I would focus on substituting instead of working at Giant Bookstore. Then the problems with that started to make themselves apparent.
First, I cannot live with the Roommate and attempt to be awake at six every day; our schedules would be too much at odds, and since staying up late is my body's natural rhythm, fighting that natural rhythm while also trying to live with someone else was unrealistic. So, I decided that I needed to live alone again. I cannot afford to live in an apartment by myself on what I make at Giant Bookstore, and to substitute - which is, by nature, unreliable - I would have to reduce those hours. Meaning that I couldn't live alone here in College Town. I felt stuck, so I called my mom. In tears. She reminded me of a very simple option.
Move back to Small Town.
Since my grandmother died two years ago, her house has been sitting empty and untouched. I can live there rent-free and pay only for gas and electric - which will be far more economical in the little house with just me and the felines. There are several nearby districts where I can apply to substitute, including the one that I graduated from and in which I have several former teachers who would write lovely recommendations for me. I'll have free evenings and weekends to maintain a social life . With consistent work, I'll be able to save money. It was a simple, perfect solution that I can carry through in a few short weeks.
And so, I am happy and hopeful again.
The handful of drawbacks that I came up with were nearly all trivial and things that I can work around. The list of benefits was so large that I'm still coming up with new ones, both small and large. Proximity to my parents, more space for Puck and Marilyn to be undisturbed, more free time, less stress, more future career opportunities and time to hone my management skills, more time and space to cook, fewer fast food options that will lead to me being healthier, proximity to cheeseburgers at my parents' restaurant, time to devote to writing (to get some of these ideas out of my head), as much noise or quiet as I want, setting the schedule in my own home, not having to share (remember, I am an only child), cooking on a gas stove, and having satellite television again!
Put simply, I am a very happy girl right now. I keep reminding myself to live in the moment instead of just anticipating what's to come, but that anticipation is so wonderful that it's difficult. I moved some things this weekend, and the strongest thing that I felt when I went into the house was a sense of peace. There is a teensy bit of me that mourns her every time I walk in the door; knowing that my own scent will take over hers and that necessary changes will be made to the space for maintenance and to suit my needs hurts a little. But the larger part knows that if I didn't take this opportunity for those reasons, she would be so dissapointed in me. I cannot imagine ever loving anyone else as much as I loved her, which is a thought that both hurts and is incredible.
Any time that something begins to drive me crazy - an angry customer, disappearing tea, or guilt-tripping - I remind myself that it's just for three more weeks. In three weeks I'll be little more than a glorified baby sitter for mouthy children, a diversifying cook, a dedicated writer, and a spinster cat lady in Small Town.
It sounds gloriously sweet.
Labels: personal growth, updates
Five Years Later
This weekend, I went to my five-year high school reunion. There wasn't nearly enough alcohol to warrant any excellent stories, but I did have a few observations.
First, apparently five years does change some people. I admit, the nasty, schadenfreude-seeking part of me was thrilled to see that several people have visibly gained weight, particularly the my image obsessed, pseudo-vegetarian ("I don't eat pepperoni, just chicken.") once-upon-a-time Meals on Wheels partner. I've seen a lot of my former classmates in the last few years - I spent my first three years of college going home every few weekends to work at my parents' restaurant - but others I probably haven't seen since the night we graduated. The first thing I heard when I walked through the door was, "Wow, I barely recognized you," from a guy I've known since...well, probably forever. I found this strange. While I'm aware that we rarely notice changes in ourselves because they are gradual and we look in the mirror every day, I feel like most of the changes in me are superficial. I've lost braces and gained bangs. I am three pounds heavier at this moment than I was when I started college. Whatever, I was also complimented, so if there are changes, at least they're for the better.
Seeing my classmates run around with their significant others was strange. Living in a small town always feels a bit incestuous, and the rules about never dating your best friend's ex tend to count for a lot less; it was bizarre to walk into a room where a third of the people, who I didn't know at all, were dating people that I've known for as long as I can remember.
Stranger than husbands and girlfriends and bed buddies were the children. A few babies, several toddlers, and a handful of four- and five-year-olds. Some of the most selfish girls I've ever known are now responsible for raising small people, and that's terrifying. And I realized, watching a bunch of little kids whose parents I've seen in seven different states of disarray running around, just how happy I am that I'm not there.
I always knew that college was next. I always knew that I was destined to do more than stay in Small Town my whole life; I needed to get out and learn more and see...something. Of course, when I graduated, I was completely infatuated with Iris and hated the idea of leaving him. I had it in my head that after four years, everything would work itself out. He and I would finally move beyond our chronic bad timing and get together. I was going to get my teaching certificate, move back home to be with Iris, and be known for my triumphant return. We would get married and have adorable little kids, hopefully with his eyes. I would teach at the same high school that I attended, coach cheerleading, and be the reincarnation of the excellent English teacher that I was blessed with. Between my tiny family and his huge one, we would have an amazing support system and I would never feel like I was missing anything.
But when Iris died, my future became extremely foggy. I suddenly knew that going back to Small Town wasn't what I wanted, not just because he wasn't there, but because his memory was. Now, it feels much too small for both of us. I'm so incredibly glad that, at twenty-three, I'm single and free to do whatever I please, however selfish it may be. I'm not ready for the compromises that come with marriage or the sacrifices that come with having children. I'm absolutely content to worry about myself and my cats and know that whatever I decide to do will be perfect.
Labels: personal growth, Small Town, updates
Tumblr
At the insistence of Bizz, I have gotten myself a Tumblr. If you like the images and quotations that I post here, you will find many more there, though with none of my sparkling wit and beautiful personality.
Why do you people like me?
Accidental Ambivalence on TumblrLabels: updates
The Yellow Birthday
As promised, the update for my birthday. As you saw from Friday's post, I wasn't so much looking forward to my birthday. All of my plans had fallen through and I was feeling rather nasty about things. My original thought had been to do something on Saturday night, but between Bradshaw staying at home, Spark having to work,
and my own general bad attitude, those plans went, quite frankly, to shit. Still, I didn't want the evening to be a complete bust, so I went to the restaurant where Roomie trends bar and ordered the amazing tiramisu
The weather was really bizarre here this weekend: Saturday night when I got to the bar, wintry mix was falling from the sky. Add into that the fact that last week was spring break here in College Town, and you get a bar that is inhabited by the bartender (Roomie), her roommate (that's me!), and the guy she's dating (The Boy). Roomie started inventing new mixed drinks and shots and trying them out on The Boy and me, and before I was entirely aware of what was going on I was tipsy and plans had been made to drag me to a different bar to ring in my real birthday. I was already tipsy when we walked to the new bar in the snow.
Roomie, being a bartender, is friends with other bartenders in downtown College Town, and was therefore able to walk up to the bar, say, "it's my roommate's birthday!" and get us drinks that I'm pretty sure we didn't pay for. At midnight, I was given a shot of something that had been on fire to bring in my twenty-third year. At this point I'd been given five shots and at least three mixed drinks, so I was taking it pretty easy, texting and receiving lovely drunk dials from Bradshaw and company. Roomie and The Boy drove my car home while I drunk dialed a
birthday makeout from the backseat, gave me leftovers and water when we got to the house, and lit and entire book of matches for me to blow out like candles. I finished the evening by kicking the makeout boy out of my bed and falling asleep to
Breakfast at Tiffany's.
Birthday morning I had plans with Spark for breakfast downtown. Scrambled eggs with cilantro and Asiago cheese, hash browns, bacon, wheat toast, and coffee. It was phenomenal. I was also given my first yellow gift, Louella the naturally antibacterial monkey made from bamboo. Spark and I spent some time together, then I went back home for a birthday nap.
When I woke from my nap, Roomie and The Boy presented me with failed yellow gift number two, a lemon cake. They thought it wouldn't finish baking in the improperly sized dish, so they tried to split the batter thirty minutes into the cooking time. Not such a great idea. I blew out candles anyhow, and the edges of the cake were lovely. They disappeared to dinner and returned with a beautiful pot of yellow tulips, gift number three.
I finished my birthday by making dinner plans with my parents for Wednesday night and having coffee with Spark downtown. For a day that I wasn't exactly looking forward to, it turned out to be pretty fantastic. And the credit for that goes to the amazing people around me. Roomie and The Boy, Roomie's sweet and inclusive coworkers (who assisted in getting me fabulously sloshed), the makeout boy, Bradshaw, and Spark. I'm surrounded by some pretty wonderful people.
Labels: alcohol, boys, celebration, photoblog, updates
I Am Not Sick
I am not sneezing excessively. There is not a ton of icky stuff clogging up my head and making my eyes feel half-a-size too big for their sockets. I am not (allegedly) slightly feverish with clammy skin. I am not so pale that even when wearing twice as much blush as usual, I look pale. I am not sniffling. I am not having any trouble tasting the food that I eat.
And so, because of all that, I am not going to spend the rest of my night curled up under a sheet, comforter, quilt, fleece blanket, and feline foot warmer sipping tea. I am not going to read while I wait for the NyQuil to start kicking in, and I am not going to watch a cheesy movie once I get to the point that written words lose their meaning. I am not thinking in the back of my mind that tomorrow I may call in sick to work after a night of strange heartbeats and lucid dreams.
I am not sick.
Labels: updates
Gah!
So, I miss the blog! I should (crossed fingers) be all set up with new internet within a week, so you can stop missing my presence! I certainly miss all of you!
I can tell you that I have had posts flying all over my head since I haven't been able to write anything for you. Boys, The Tudors, Gossip Girl, fabulous books, domesticity, feline bonding, astrology, boys (yes, again), quiet, and my newfound love for space heaters. Oh yes, I see an ode to the space heater coming quite soon.
In the meantime, don't forget about me!
Labels: updates
Just So You Know
I am moving most of my things to my new house today, so I may be without compy for a few days. This pains me - and I'm so sure that you'll be horribly sad without me - but it must be done.
Miss me while I'm gone!
Labels: updates
Scratching the Itch*
A week from last Tuesday, I felt
unstoppable. I went out, had a couple of drinks, and flirted with Hershey via text message. I know, what else is new. I had imagined that I would end up in bed with him, but by the time I got home at 1:30, he hadn't responded in what I considered an appropriate manner. I changed, set my alarm for work, and went to bed.
At 2:30, I finally received a reply. There was a brief exchange in which we established that we had both wanted to see each other and that neither of us was willing to leave our homes to make it happen that night. I was seeking to prove a point; he cannot be the one in control of the situation. I will not come just because he says so.** It was the principle of the thing, and I was proud of myself for sticking to what I had decided.
The next afternoon, I called Bradshaw and told her the story. She was, quite frankly, pissed off at me, and I think a little disappointed. She said something to the effect of, "You had a chance to have sex and you didn't go?" And then came the disparaging comments.
It was then that I realized something interesting, something that changed the entire situation in my mind. On the Saturday after Thanksgiving, while lying on my parents' couch dozing off with a cat, Hershey called me. He claimed that he was going through his phone and realized that we hadn't talked in a while. Let me remind you, my lovely readers, of the thing that he seems to have forgotten: I am not stupid. However, until talking to Bradshaw on Wednesday morning, I hadn't put all of the pieces together to realize how it could all turn out.
I now had all of the power.
He had contacted me twice for the same reason. I had come out of my self-imposed segregation from my social life, seen him out in public, and had an interesting conversation with him. The next move was mine, so to speak, and I was very excited by this prospect. I decided to move forward with it in order to get what I wanted. I worked Friday night, then went home, changed my clothes, had a snack, and fired off a "What are you up to?" text message.
I walked into his house at 2:25, greeted his dog, and let him unwind the scarf from my neck. When we finished, I patted his cheek, stretched like a cat, got dressed, and walked out. We chatted our way to the door, and I left feeling like we were in the middle of a rather trite conversation. It makes me feel like I still hold all of the power in the situation, and I like it.
I'll let you all know how things shake down from here, but just know that, for the moment, Nic is a satisfied, power-wielding woman.
*Whee, clichés! **Haha, that would actually be really fantastic.Labels: boys, flirting, updates
Changes
Sometimes, people do surprise you.
My parents were shockingly receptive - if hesitant - to my plan to and reasonings for moving in with a roommate. My lease is up at the end of the month (yes, two weeks) and I had to scramble to find alternate arrangements. I'm going to be moving in with a girl that I've been working with since starting at Giant Bookstore, although we don't know one another well. I have a really good feeling about it and I choose to hold on to that feeling for as long as possible.
Sometimes I fear that I'm so comfortable being alone that being with someone will be uncomfortable - and I don't want that for myself. I want to make myself a better, more well-rounded person, and I feel like the way to do that is to pull away from my comfort zone. Yes, I enjoy living alone. I like naked time and bath time and sing-whatever-I-want-really-loud time. But I'm willing to sacrifice some of that to be a better person.
I choose to see this change as a positive thing for myself. I am going to grow and be better for it. I'm so relieved that my parents are okay with this. I'm so relieved to have the plans almost finalized. I'm glad I can finally stop bugging everyone around me by talking about it!
Today, I am full of hope.
Labels: my insanity, updates
Promise
Bradshaw is coming for the weekend! Tonight there shall be dinner and booze, tomorrow there shall be dinner and booze, and Nic will be at work for a Christmas meeting at 7:30 on Sunday morning. There is far too much going on to organize my thoughts enough for an interesting and coherent post. However, there is one forthcoming, likely related to the seriously fascinating book I'm reading,
Snoop: What Your Stuff Says About You.Excuse me while I finish vacuuming, dancing to fun music, and giving myself cat's eyes with eyeliner.
Labels: updates
Saturday Morning
Yesterday was the first time I saw the guy I work with who sent me the text message - I can't give him a pseudonym right now. It was awkward because I made it awkward. I find it difficult to make eye contact with people in only a few situations: when I am angry, when I am upset, and when I do not know what to say to them. I don't know what to say to him; I meant it when I said that I would pretend like the entire thing never happened, but that's proving easier said than done. I would ask for advice, but I won't follow any of it and I'm not really willing to discuss it at length any more. I'm going to do the very mature thing and ignore it until it goes away or blows up in my face.
Yesterday, I made an appointment to get my hair colored. This will be a first step for me, and there may or may not be before and after photos posted here. My fairly basic, almost-mousy light brown hair will be getting an infusion of red. I'm excited, though I've elected to try very hard to keep the appointment a secret from those people who see me every day. I'll see if people notice it, and I'll try not to be disappointed when they don't.
Last night, I fell asleep watching Sex and the City. I think it was around eight, but I have no real idea. I do know that I woke up at 4:30 extremely confused. I fell asleep again around 8 am, then woke around 11. I had oatmeal and coffee for breakfast, read Elle magazine, and thought about how much I'm enjoying this lazy weekend thing that I've had going on. I chill and drink coffee and do completely vapid and shallow things until early afternoon, when I finally get around to washing my face and making myself presentable for public consumption.* Then I'll go to get more coffee or buy groceries or wander through the mall spending money unintelligently. If I didn't already work in a bookstore, I would probably spend my afternoons hanging out in them.
Please excuse me while I go to make my eyelashes look fabulous.**
*I think it says something about me that I thought, "kinky" as I typed that sentence.
**Seriously, how shallow can I be today?Labels: updates
New Information
I always have such good intentions. I tend to fuck things up when I set too much by those intentions. This is, sort of, my way of apologizing for the lack of substantial posts. I've been distracted and stressed and working and sleeping and I can't always make myself sit here to type something.
With that said, let me tell you about the interesting piece of news I received about Hershey this week: He has, apparently, found himself a new girl to sleep with. This doesn't upset me in the way that it might upset the average girl. I never expected monogamy from him, and I was well aware of his sexual history (present, really) when I put myself in the situation. What I am a bit upset about is the fact that I was really hoping that I had found my new "special friend."* The knowledge that I no longer have that option is frustrating. The fact of the matter is, I'm not going to live at someone else's whim; I want a situation like this to be mutual, or at the very least on my own terms.
Regarding the book that I borrowed from him - and attempted to return a week ago - Bradshaw convinced me to hold on to it. I had considered writing a simple thank you note and returning it to his porch, but instead I'm going to keep it until he asks for it back. I already made the effort, so now it's his turn, and if he doesn't make that effort, I get a shiny new book. That's a win in my book.
I did find myself wondering if I jumped into the Hershey situation too quickly, if I invested too much (even that little bit) that I should have. I still miss Iris too much to even think about someone else in that capacity. I'm not sure of anything any more, really. So now, I shall return to the semi-celibate life that I was living, content in the knowledge that if the opportunity arises again, I'll probably take it.
*Read: Fuck buddy. I want one.Labels: boys, updates
Liar
Clearly, I am one. A liar, that is. I promised a real post, but based on how tired I am right now and the thirteen-hour work day I'm looking at tomorrow, you won't be getting one until Wednesday. However, here's hoping that tomorrow night's venture to Piano Bar leads to something interesting for me to talk about.
Right now, I have nothing interesting to say.
Labels: updates
Budweiser period, kittens.
Part of what I bought. Look at those cookie cutters!
The end of my sample
Blurry, I know, but do you see the window? Lucky horse. He's probably been on TV.
