Faculty Brat

Friday, August 26, 2005

Friday Frivolity

I should be "getting stuff done" around the house but it's too hard to figure out where to begin-do I wipe down the cupboards to remove the traces of flea spray and then bring the dishes back inside, or are we really going to get the Kitchen Painted? Is it worth getting out the push mower that's too dull to be effective, and trying to hack the yard into submission? Do I have the energy to fold and put away the 10 garbage bags full of clean, flea-free laundry?-so instead here's some more fun Friday stuff.
So if you were to design a mixed drink that was 'sposed to capture the essence of you, what would be in it? What would you call it?
Here's mine:
Sweet Sarcasma
A flute of Champagne
A splash of Grenadine
Garnish with a half a strawberry cut lengthwise to symbolize a tongue, skewer "tongue" with a little plastic sword. Enjoy.

Back to School Special

So, yesterday I had my first class in an actual classroom in three and a half years! It went surprisingly well especially given the fact that I didn't realize I would be attending until 10pm the previous evening when I was finally able to successfully register. The class is Astronomy so we meet in the planetarium and the professor is a cute middle-aged woman with looong grey hair that she wears in two french braids. She is pleasant to listen to, energetic and excited about the topic, and all in all I am excited for the course. She did make it a point to warn anyone who took the class solely to fulfill the MSU transfer requirement for physical science without suffering through physics or chemistry, that they there were pretty much screwed because Astronomy combines both of those subjects. I have to say I blanched a bit at this news. Oh well. It will be challenging but I think I'll survive. After class I went to buy my books and had a small heart attack when I saw the total-$200 for two books?! In an attempt to revive my faltering organ of benevolence-or is that something else?-I bought myself the 800 page September Vouge and an iced soy mocha. I must say they helped. I settled down at a table outside the café and was joined by a woman I had met in line with whom I'd bonded over the ridiculous price of science books. We chatted a bit until Dad arrived-dressed particularly stylishly-to pick me up, and then the young woman's focus shifted to him. "oh, you got a cool Dad. A Hip Dad." Yeah, Yeah. An awkward departure-those books are almost as heavy as they are expensive-and we were headed back to East Lansing, Dad to the office and me to ERC where I basked in the late summer sun with my Vogue and my smokes and my illicit soy mocha. After an hour or two of basking, I started the walk home with an unaccounted for feeling of elation. Why was I so happy? The day marked the end of the summer for me, I had just spent a lot of money on things I would rather not have spent it on, I had every reason to believe I was in for tough semester that would include quite a lot of-gulp-riding the bus and my boyfriend wouldn't be there to hold my hand through any of it. So what accounted for the feeling of happiness spreading like tingly fingers from my chest to my extremities? Some perfect concoction of caffeine, nicotine, sunshine and social interaction? Perhaps. I don't know, but what I do know is that my happiness was visible. About 3/4 of the way home I passed a little girl, a little boy and a little dog standing in their front yard. The little girl said 'Hi' and I smiled and said 'Hi' back. I must have progressed less than two houses when the girl called after me; "You look pretty!" I wanted to adopt her then and there.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Top 5 Tuesday: The Comeback

Ok, I'm still trying to get on some sort of blogging schedule here, I think my problem is 70% a lack of discipline and 30% an erratic schedule. While I struggle to find a rhythm, I've decided to reinstate the Top 5 Tuesday because these sorts of posts generate the most comments, and really, isn’t that the whole point?
So here it is, today's topic:
Your Top 5 Guilty Pleasures
Here are mine:
1. Smoking-SOOOOOOOO Bad for me. SOOOOOO Addicted!
2. Curling up on the couch-preferably in pajamas and with junk food-and watching really bad TV. The kind where you can actually feel yourself losing brain cells as you watch. America's Next Top Model, for instance, or Laguna Beach or practically anything on ABC Family. I can't get enough!!!
3. "Women's Magazines"-I currently subscribe to 3 and buy two others on a regular basis. Oh the shame. Oh the pleasure.
4. Children's Books-I haven't read half of what a women my age who claims to love to read ought to have read, mostly because I read like I eat. For comfort and pleasure, and for those two qualities, nothing beats a little Betsy-Tacy or L.M. Montgomery.
5. Make-up-I love make-up. It's fun. It's pretty. It often smells good. Sometimes, it even tastes good. I buy lots. TOO MUCH.

So there you have them, five little things that delight me but probably shouldn't.
Now kindly return the favor so as to maintain the disclosure equilibrium.

Sunday, August 21, 2005

The Upside of Separation

One of the many wonderful things about living with an immensely strong and capable boyfriend is that they are generally willing to do things for you. All sorts of odd jobs. Things that require technological knowledge. Things that require heavy lifting. Things that require subjecting one's self to particularly foul odors and general ickiness. As unenlightened and regressive as this will surely sound, few things make a girl feel more feminine and secure than having a man they can rely on to take care of such things. Before anyone starts aiming virtual tomatoes at me, let me go on to say that as good as all this being taken care of feels, today I found something that (although perhaps only by virtue of novelty) feels better; discovering my own capabilities. I ordered a Treadmill last week, so in anticipation of its arrival I decided to rearrange the basement suite. To begin with, after many failed attempts, I eventually succeeded in coaxing a stubborn futon back to its upright position and forcing it across the room to its newly designated spot. Then, I stripped the overflowing book case and somehow managed to hoist the 7x5 foot wooden structure up the step from the livingroom-half of the suite, to the bedroom-half, where I positioned it against the wall and reloaded it with artistic flair. Well pleased by my successes, I moved on to the most daunting task: moving the ridiculously heavy TV, stereo components, DVD player, VCR, ps2, speakers and brick and board shelving structure. Here was a task that combined two of the things I've become most reliant on Matt for; heavy lifting and technology trouble-shooting. I paused a moment to take in how everything was connected, took a deep breath, and started unplugging and disconnecting. Thirty minutes later, everything was in its place and in perfect working order. I turned up the stereo in celebration and danced around to Liz Phair. It was glorious. As I was on a roll, I continued on to the final and least pleasant task; cleaning the month old dried cat piss and excrement off the floor and out of random boxes in the furnace room. I must admit I choked and gagged a bit and took a break for fresh air, but I persevered because I had to, there was no Matt to come and finish the job, and it felt great. I suppose, however, that the real test of all this new found capability, will be whether or not I can actually assemble the treadmill when it comes. Stay tuned.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Friday Fun Blogging

Ok, so I've just been hanging out at home the past two days and I really don't have much to report, so I thought I'd pick people's brains a bit. Say you get to cast the movie version of your life. Who would you want to play you? What about other important people in your life?

Here are my picks:
Me: Natalie Portman
Matt: Jake Gyllenhall
Laura: Liv Tyler
Eric: Luke Wilson
Rin: Reese Witherspoon
Ellen: Helena Bonham Carter
Elise: Kate Winslet
Chad: Russel Crowe
Dad: Colin Firth
Hilde: Famke Jansen
Mom: Diane Lane
Tim: Gene Hackman

Any strong objections?
Isn't this fun? Now tell me yours.

Wednesday, August 17, 2005

Conservative Right in bed with Vagisil?

I'm not sure if this is sexual conservatism, racial profiling or both, but three states; Florida, Virginia and Louisiana, have introduced public indecency bills that seek to fine anyone caught in public with their underwear sticking out of their pants. Puh-leeze! True, thong-adorned ass-cleavage is so very 2003, but do we really need to start legislating fashion? If we're gonna go down that road, why not start with something truly horrifying like spandex bike shorts, or overalls on anyone who isn't a) under the age of 12, b)pregnant, or c) on a farm. What is so incredibly offensive about a little peek of lace or the sight of the elastic waistband of a pair of boxers? Would you rather see straight up crack? I haven't quite made up my mind whether it's ironic or correlative that Louisiana, breeding ground of Mrs. Federline, who is perhaps best known for wearing her underwear over her pants, is one of the states trying to push the bill through. I expect it will take more than a few seasons for "high" fashion's much tauted return of the natural waist to trickle down to these southern states, and if the conservative right is successful in their endeavor, what can these poor Southern fashion victims do but go commando? What with the chafing and the tight moistness, I expect a big boom in Vagisil sales.

Warning: Self-Indulgent Bridal Poll

So, aside from working and trying to figure out school stuff (the consequences of procratination are never fun), I have been spending an inordinate amount of time compulsively shopping on the interenet and "planning" my wedding, by which I mean paging through bridal magazines, frequenting theknot.com and inflicting random ceremony and reception ideas on my poor Father, who is probably thinking; "Sure honey, there ain't no ring on that finger, your "fiance'" lives 12 hours away and your both flat broke, but you go ahead and plan that buffet dinner for 200." Or more likely; "Ah, young love is so naive!" Whatever. When present circumstances are less than ideal, fantasizing about the future is a perfectly valid (and comforting)coping mechanism. On that note, please take my bridal poll.

Envision if you will, a dusky Minneapolis evening, (Saturday, December 30th, 2006 at 5pm to be exact.) An intimate Chapel festooned with greenery and red and white flowers all warmly lit by candlelight. The processional begins. The wedding party enters two by two. "Aww!" The Ringbearer. "Oooh!" *The Flower Girl. A collective gasp as the guests catch their first glimpse of the Bride, a vision of white lovlieness. Can you see it? Good.
Here is the poll:
What color are the Bridesmaids' dresses?
Ebony (Black)
Scarlet (Deep Red) or
Chocolate (Rich Brown)
(The parenthetical color explanations are included to aid the chromosonally impaired.)

*Where can I get one of these?

Monday, August 08, 2005

Separation Anxiety

I tried to put on a brave face, knowing that my tears would trigger Matt's and if he cried I'd only cry harder, but as I watched the truck pull away I let go. I sat on the front steps and wept until my grief subsided enough for self-consciousness to surface and I went inside to mourn away from the curious glances of joggers and dog-walkers. My stomach was on fire from a steady diet of gin and tonics, diet coke, coffee and cigarettes, so I attempted a piece of leftover pizza to quell the burning, an endeavor I gave up after being unable to force the dry tasteless matter past the lump in my throat. Curled up on the couch, I flicked through the channels aimlessly hoping to be distracted from my self-pity. Daytime television being what it is, the only thing I could settle on was TLC's "A Wedding Story" but this quickly became unbearable. I turned off the TV and began pacing through the house. Everything felt different. Empty in a way that had little to do with an absent desk here, a missing chair there. I have become so much a part of this other person, and he of me, that this indefinite separation is hard to grasp. We don't know, either of us, what it means to live without the other. The shrill shriek of the telephone cut through the fog of sadness that shrouded the house, a much needed reminder of a world outside me. The voice on the other line was familiar, sweet and low. Teresa. Our conversation, while unremarkable, was immensely comforting. After I hung up the phone, I began thinking how undeservedly lucky I have been in being loved. I am shit at maintaining relationships over distances yet very few people in my life have given up on me. I shouldn't rely on that luck. I realize now, that any isolation I feel is chosen, self-imposed. I will not resign myself to feeling cut off and chalk it up to a personality flaw. There is just too much to lose.

Friday, August 05, 2005

I thought it might be different this time

I have been working in coffee shops for four years. Four years, four coffee shops. This line of work fosters something in me that I both loathe and delight in; I need you to like me. I don't care who you are or whether I respect you; you MUST like me. My smile is almost a nervous tic. Regardless of hangover, PMS, or two hours of sleep, I will shoot the breeze, suck up, flatter and commiserate till I'm blue in the face if I think it will elicit a smile in return. If I can't get a customer to engage with me, I feel a grossly disproportionate sense of rejection and seek solace by pouring it on extra thick with the next one. Even more disturbing is that I know I try harder and react more strongly with men. It doesn't matter that I love love love my boyfriend and would never consider another man, I still crave the constant affirmation that may or may not be just a latte away. I'm sure to the more perceptive among the customers it's there written across my face; "Please think I'm Charming. Please think I'm cute." It sickens me but I can't stop! I thought this go-round, the solidness and goodness of my relationship with Matt, not to mention my own self-confidence, something that has been escalating (albeit at the turtle's pace)over the past few years, would be enough to kill this neurosis. Unfortunately not. It's very disagreeable-as I bet a few of you have experienced-to be hyper-aware of your personal deficiencies yet unable to overcome them. Perhaps with time.

Everybody's doing it

After my soul-soothing vacation I found it difficult to muster up the will to continue blogging. Then, when the external and internal pressure to write had finally succeeded in convincing me to let Sarcasma speak, the combined forces of the internet and my own short-term memory conspired to prevent me from fulfilling my nascent desire. I forgot my username and password and the damn eblogger system took a few days to find my inbox. At any rate, my few yet faithful fans need pine no longer. She-who-may-or-may-not-be-named has RETURNED. In addition to beaching, cottage-ing, working, and Harry Potter-ing, the interim has been marked by the re-reading of my journals circa 1994-2003. Although this should come as no surprise to any of you who know me, I find myself extreeemly interesting! I know it's kind of a cop-out but I thought I'd ease back into this blogging thing by posting some stuff I wrote a long time ago.

Some non-nature themed haiku with titles

"pondering the nature of theses loveless trysts..."
My adoration
feeds delusions of grandeur
does this bring you back?

"Infertility breeds promiscuity"
So much careless lust
good seed spent on barren soil
I fuck to forget

"Damned Carnivores"
In my naivete'
my mouth described as tender
struck me as sweetness

WOW! I'm SO much less Fucked up then I used to be. Anyway, I thought they were kinda funny.