Saturday, December 24, 2011

[about chatterbox, horse-obsessed coworker to coworker who hates aforementioned chatterbox] me: You get to work with [chatterbox] tomorrow night! Yay for you!

surly coworker: no. do you know how much she'll want to catch me up on?! all the horsies she's ridden in the span of five months!!?

(except he didn't really say "ridden")

me: she has a new boyfriend now, too.

surly coworker: is his name ED?!


Friday, December 16, 2011

we are young, so let's set the world on fire, we can burn brighter than the sun.

I wish I had the gumption to do anything. It's so hard, working as much as I do, then waking up exhausted, wanting to just stay in bed forever. Some days I can't even bring myself to wash a dish. I know that's just the way it is for me, depression and all that. But the exhaustion makes it worse. And also the sun-less midwest in its present winter state. Strange because cold usually drives my creativity (as opposed to heat, which causes me great laziness), but the SUN. I watched a documentary a few days ago about Aileen Wurnos, first American female serial killer (Monster is about her, I have to admit a bizarre fascination and sympathy for the woman who I believe originated as a victim-- but who, make no mistake, was utterly batshit). The doc was mostly a chronicle of her history and her last days in prison, death row, whatnot, basically after she rejected all possibilities for an appeal and desired the death penalty, just to get her the hell out of here. Anyway, on the thing are several interviews with her, and while that goes on her attention switches from the interviewer to the camera in front of her-- sometimes she stares it down, ranting and raving like a lunatic and her eyes, I kid you not, are jet black. You cannot tell where her pupils begin. And with her uber pale skin it's as though she has black holes gaping in her head. It's terrifying. It's an effect I think the film industry would employ if they knew how. The interviewer, asked about her freaky appearance, responded that she apparently looked like that due to being on death row and NEVER seeing the sun. No windows. No outings (i'm not sure if that was a rule or if that was her choice-- she wanted to die, so the latter is not impossible). Just darkness. I wonder if I will look that way by the end of the season. I joke of course. But. Still frightening.

Winter has its perks. I still love the snow, it hasn't been impossible yet (they say January and February are murderous). The other day ice was hanging from everything, and all of the trees were dripping and glistening, every single twig was coated and luminous. Martha Stewart wishes.

I haven't been writing. It's been such a while since I've been able to make the time for it that now when I really want to write I don't even do it because I'm afraid I've lost it. I have to start to change that. I have to get back on track. I spent about 45 minutes today daydreaming about myself-- my future self. The sort of things I'll write, where I'll go, the things I'll do for others, the fantastic things I'll wear (today it was a Penny Lane coat-- visual aid below). The jobs I'll have. The grad school I'll go to. The incredibly attractive Jewish guy I'll spend my time with in New York, the beautiful Scotsman I'll date in Europe. The time I'll spend living in tents and writing and waitresses across the US. All things that can be managed, maybe, if I just live my life properly. If I just suck it up and try to fly right. It comes and goes. That's when I wonder about medication, sometimes. If I were on prozac or whathaveyou, would I be able to get out of bed like a normal person? If I took some sort of add med, could I organize my thoughts enough to plod through the day and work towards a goal? Would I budget better? I recognize I have alot of time to work these things out. I have alot of time to do all of these things. And I do feel happy about that, happy to think that I've (just this year) really done alot of good and adventurous things. And I also recognize that dissatisfaction is inherent (once I again, I'm reminded of C.S. Lewis's explanation for human discontent, look it up in Mere Christianity) . But. I am not the young person that I want to be right now. I could stand to be a tired little snot, but only if I had completely earned that exhaustion in every aspect of my life. I need to take better care of myself physically and spiritually, I need to get back to reading/studying more, I need to be better with finances, with dedicating my time to others, with priorities. I know I'll always be trying to get it together, but I'd really like to ALMOST get it together here sometime soon. That's not too much to hope for, is it?

My birthday was on Monday. As per usual, not a very exciting thing, but I wasn't depressed like I usually find myself. I got home from work, opened a few weird things that my mother had sent me (Time Bandits and Babe (???) and an awesomely peculiar, semispooky Owl Ornament), tried to paint my nails, fell asleep (sadly not for very long), got up, then Amanda and I got ready to go to Dickinson's ONE nice restaurant, which was of course closed on Monday nights. So we went to Applebee's (as per usual. Applebee's is literally the ONLY place to go at night aside from the bars). Then to a random bar for my birthday shot. Then I drank a (dreadful) whiskey sour as my company refused to imbibe and returned home in a peaceful mood, and put on the Breakfast at Tiffany's soundtrack. After listening to Moonriver about 5 times I decided it was time to watch the damn thing so I said goodnight to Amanda and curled up on the couch, close to our lovely, glowing christmas tree, and watched Holly Golightly live her existence, which, to a slightly sentimental me, full of that desperate feeling to romanticize my uneventful present life, seemed alot like a much more glamorous version of my own existence. I'm like the midwestern, slob Holly, except instead of Cat I have an Amanda. Who I think would be pretty upset if I booted her out of a moving taxi, so it's all the same, isn't it?

That's it. I'm going to write something. As I sit here waxing poetic on myself I'm realizing that I should just grab this moment inbetween work and sleep and just TRY. Here goes.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

and you're the same kinda bad as me.

So another birthday come and gone. Strange that I kind of dread it until it gets here, then get excited against my will, then get depressed about how little I've accomplished in my many 24 years (yeah it's young, but there's so much you can fit into that), how few places I've been. I was talking to a thirteen year old girl the other day and mentioned I haven't been out of the country yet and she gave me the most shocked face. "What??? You haven't at ALL?" No, kid, not even Canada. Shuttup.

Friday, December 9, 2011

I'd so rather be traveling.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Me: Gee-Ma, I'm sad today.
Gma: Why are you sad? Do you know?
Me: Not really.
Gma: Do you have people in your life that you miss?
Me: ...Yeah.
Gma: Then that is probably why you are sad.

this coming from a woman so steeped in Alzheimer's that she doesn't know anyone in her family and can no longer go to the bathroom by herself. I love moments like that.

Monday, December 5, 2011

boy in the snow, way to go, it only happens once a year!

The snow here is insane. It's such a unique experience to be in a location where the lifestyle is so dependent upon the weather. And it is. The snow has started in hardcore and it has gotten very cold. Like, long-underwear, ice-scrapin', slip-sliding cold. Just walking around the apartment begs sweatshirts, tights under pants, thick socks and, my favorite, a blanket cape. One must have a blanket cape.

My Thanksgiving was quiet. Since I'm up all night I fell asleep about 6AM that morning and woke up at 2ish. Amanda had been invited to Thanksgiving madness at Grandma's family's house so she had gone there and then to work. I made myself a bowl of veggie soup (my favorite, oddly enough), calmly prepared myself a cup of Winter Dream tea (previously purchased at Coffee Bean during my California time-- sigh), and nestled into our Grandma couch for an uninterrupted viewing of The Royal Tenenbaums. I can't tell you how many times I've seen this movie-- I've been watching it several times a year since 2001 (it's been ten years, goodness! I didn't even realize that!) and it still feels rather new to me (while still being so comforting). It's interesting to me that so many people feel very distant and put out by Anderson's style of filmmaking while to me it is the opposite of cold. Anderson doesn't tell you how to feel, he just shows you the facts. I love that. I am more moved by that. Anyway, there's something faintly holiday-ish about that movie, and since it's about family and whatnot I thought it'd be an appropriate viewing. Every time I watch it I'm touched by something different-- there are the key scenes that still get me every time, like Needle in the Hay, She Smiled Sweetly, I'm A Widower Too (I know you are, Chas), Chas confessing to his father that he's had a rough year (okay, tearing up just thinking about that one), but this time I really noticed a scene that up until now I didn't really like. After everyone has found out that Royal is a big faker and he sets out to right things honestly and for good, he takes Margot to an ice cream parlor. She doesn't want to stay, so he tells her he's trying to make things right. Margot challenges him by quizzing him on what her middle name is, and Royal, drawing a blank, delcares that it's a trick question, she has no middle name. "It's Helen," she says, sadly. Royal is quiet for a moment. "That was my mother's name." Margot: "I know it was." The look on Margot's face, albeit still almost deadpan, is twinged with sadness. She was kept from being a part of Royal's life, but she took an interest in him. She knew about his life, and he didn't even remember that she had been named after his own mother. Sigh.

Anyway. I watched that and absorbed and enjoyed. It was made all the better due to my rereading a bit of Franny and Zooey the night before. Yes. So after that I strung up a strand of white lights over our window, made more tea, and watched The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which has to be the weirdest Wes Anderson movie of all (I still think the plot is just mad and all over the place, but I don't really feel like that's the important thing in this particular film) but just... oozes Thanksgiving-ness with its fall colors and coziness and family and food. And Mr. Fox's speech at the end. If I ever have a family, I think I'll make that a holiday tradition.

I'm asking him if he thinks we're in for a hard winter. He doesn't seem to know.

Anyway. Film talk aside, that was my Thanksgiving. Then I went to work that night. And so on. It was a bit lonely at times, however I really enjoyed it. I like being alone, I think. At least some of the time. And now it's December and it's cold. Through incredible Grace we managed to get a living room set of wonderful black leather furniture (exactly the color we wanted) for FREE from a family desperate to move. They even brought it all the way up the stairs for us (thank GOD because three flights of stairs is MURDER). We also got an end table and a non-working HDTV out of the deal (we're going to see if we can fix it). A friend of Amanda's sent her a bluray player for her birthday. We were also given a precious little Christmas tree strung with white lights. The place is starting to fill in nicely.

My sleep schedule has been strange lately. I sleep for about 3-4 hours at a time, wake up confused but not sleepy, carry on, and then crash for another 3-4 hours before the day is done. Odd.

Christmas is coming. It's great. Still. What I wouldn't give to see some family right about now. I'm worried about them.