Brad Pitt's Skin Disease

It rained today. Again. So I drove to the bike store and bought Sport Beans and some little maps of routes to take from the end of the MM trail. They're even laminated, which is awesome, because my health insurance card is just a flimsy bit of thick paper and I carry it with me in my back pocket and I got it soaked (with sweat, I know, the grossness). I had to dry it out with a hair dryer and laminate it with clear packing tape so I can take it out with me again. It's for just in case that one Masshole driver tries to kill me, then the paramedics can find my health insurance card and driver's license and whisk me away to whatever colour body cast I choose.

I also went to Target, the Happiest Place on Earth, where I wasted more time than I want to admit. After an hour and a half, I walked away with a 3-subject notebook for classes, cotton balls, the CD "Death By Sexy" by the Eagles of Death Metal and a $15 iTunes gift card. The reason I was there so long is because I was torn by guilt . . . buy a CD and iTunes things when I'm broke? Am I going to need that money to go out for drinks or something before school? What if I pop two tubes and need to buy another one, since I only have one spare?

But Eagles of Death Metal are so much fun, and there's a ton of random songs I want, so I figured a gift card would keep me from plugging in my credit card number and accidently racking up $103 in Kanye West songs or something. Additionally,now I have "Peace, Love, Death and Metal" and "Death by Sexy" and can shake my junk for a consecutive two hours plus. They're so much fun. Thank goodness for good music.

Last night I had a serious attack of the Bed Bug Boogies, which was me thinking I had the buggers in my sheets and freaking out and ending up sleeping on top of the bedsheets and boiling my bedding today. See, evidently the northeast has bed bugs and they're not just part of a cutesey saying that freaks out little kids. For those of you who don't have the backstory, my mattress was given to me by Creepy Craig, the Rhode Island boyfriend of former roommate Amber. Craig had this in storage and gave it to me when he helped Amber move in because I was sleeping on an air mattress. (Evidently Megan still tells people about the air mattress because it's pretty darn funny.) I was unsure about the hygienic state of the mattress and worried about bugs so I wrapped it up good in two waterproof mattress covers, one on top and one on bottom. And I've never seen a trace of bugs, and I guess you end up with tiny bites if you have them, but I don't have them. I didn't have them last night, either. I was just itchy and paranoid because I found a beetle on my pillow a few days ago that had crept in an open window.

I work myself into these weird states over the stupidest things, I swear. Like my freakout about getting a job on Friday, and then last night and the invisible bugs.

Sunday night I watched a movie called "The Dark Side of the Sun," which was made in '88 or something and was shown on some local channel. It was horrible. Really, really bad. But it had Brad Pitt, and I was just curious enough to see him that young. I think the only movie I've ever seen all the way through that he's in was "Fight Club." But this movie was about this kid with some horrible disease who has to wear a full leather mask all the time and gloves and no skin can be showing or he could die IN THREE DAYS if exposed to the sun. His family moved to Yugoslavia so he could be healed by some medicine man, and this American actress visits his town for a festival and he becomes enamoured with her and forsakes his S&M leather gear for a few days with her.

You can tell how horrible it is, can't you? The opening line of the movie, I kid you not, was Brad Pitt saying (while he's on his motorcycle in his leather), "I don't want to die. I want to live!" And then at the end he dies anyhow, and it isn't until 40 minutes into the movie that we get to see him. He's kinda pasty with red rimmed eyes but has an elaborately blow-dried long feathery haircut which made my day. It was greatness. And in the last scene he goes in to kiss his mother and he's all scaly and tumorous or something and then drives away on his motorcycle into the sunset, presumably to crawl off and die in the Yugoslavian mountains.

I dunno if Yugoslavia has mountains.

But it should, for the sake of this horrific movie. I thought it might be related to the disease xeroderma pigmentosum, a legitimate genetic disorder where people's skin cannot repair itself from skin damage, so they must stay out of the sun and light otherwise the rays will break down their skin and cause skin cancer and lead to death. This is one of my "pet" diseases. I have a couple random ones that I'm fascinated by and research all the time because they're so odd and it's miraculous the way the body works when it's well and how people must adapt their lifestyles when it doesn't. There was a pair of novels about a man with XP written a few years ago that were pretty good, and I thought the movie would be as well. No such luck. People with XP don't die in three days. But it was still amusing.

A good book or movie or piece of art about a disease cannot be underrated. That's probably my fantasy science writing job . . . writing books where a disease is brought to light in a convincing, accurate and humane way. Like "The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime" for autism or "Flowers for Algernon" for mental retardation and "A Beautiful Mind" for schizophrenia. (Those are all pet diseases as well. I'm big on neurological things.) I'll write my newspaper articles or magazine articles, but rest assured I'd be working on something like this in the mean time.

And hopefully nothing I do will be turned into a movie with a pasty Brad Pitt.

There's a guy on TV with a baby raccoon. Does anybody else remember the book "Rascal"? My dad had a coworker who had a raccoon he'd found abandoned when a tree got chopped down or something. Its name was Crash and it used to sit on this guy's head when he was puttering around in the garage or whatever. It was in San Antonio, and he lived a little ways out of the city with some really pretty land and at the time his daughter was in a wheelchair with pins and rods sticking out of her legs because doctors had surgically broken her legs and rotated them because she was severely pigeon-toed. Even then, when I was in 7th grade, I remember the medical stuff. I was fascinated by the pieces of metal poking out of little puker-holes in the sides of her thighs and calves.

I think our pet dinosaur is done growing. He's almost the size of the bowl now and hasn't done much in a few days. Now on TV there's West Germans and Czechs playing bicycle soccer. They use the wheels to kick the ball and they have amazing track stands and mad skillz with a z, Czech style. But Lance still rules--obviously, because he powers all of ESPN. (http://www.sportscenteraltar.com/multimedia/video.asp)

More Than A Bike

So I'm going to talk about something other than my ride today, but first I have to explain about my ride and how generally "eh" it was so you know why I'm going to talk about incredibly superfluous things.

Yesterday it rained--again. And pretty much all day, cos goodness knows I'm not going out and doing a ride anytime before 2 or 3 in the afternoon. If it rains in the afternoon, that means it rains all day. I sat on the porch and read and ate hotdogs and surfed thanks to my handy laptop. So when it started off clear today, I was excited to get out.

But I had an errand to run first (a completely different topic that makes me angry, so I won't explain) and when I got back I'd almost lost my momentum for a ride. I was angry and got back and half my bike clothes are (this is gross, sorry guys) damp because it's been so humid here. My gloves haven't dried since I got back, and my jersey is always slightly damp too. And you can't really throw that stuff in the dryer, either, so it's a nuisance.

My damp clothes and I head out Mass Ave to the MM trail and casually wind our way down. I didn't really have any "go" today. There's excuses--like I know I ate wrong and didn't drink enough before going out--but whatever. I did sprints on the way out, mostly so that I felt justified in ambling about at 13 mph. It let me cruise in my triple and occasionally spurt out real work (28mph) and then slow back down and say I was being productive. It was greatness. On the way back I did the first two miles out of the saddle "working on my form"--just another excuse to go slow. I was working on technique, people, technique and form. It's important stuff.

And my bum will probably still hurt tomorrow from all that out-of-the-saddle BS.

On to other things . . . I have a secret weakness for fashion and style and clothing and accessories and shoes and purses and all that nonsense. It's more a fascination than anything I want to take too seriously for my own life. It takes too much time and effort most of the time to put this stuff into action. But on the internet . . .

Oh, the internet, my friends, is the best place ever to indulge yourself. These are my two favorite websites/blogs of fashion. Let's start nice and then get naughty.

The first is a site (http://thesartorialist.blogspot.com/) by a guy who largely just takes photos of people he passes on the street who have interesting/cool styles. Not necessarily a fashion site, but more of wow, look how these people carry and present themselves. I love it. He has lots of photos of old men in snazzy bowties, and few things are as stylin' as those guys. And then he gives a quick little note or two on why the style is so cool. He's nice, and is never snarky or says anything mean. Furthermore, he pays atention to men and their style (or desperate lack thereof). Guys can use more tips. Sometimes he has interviews with fashion people, but I skip that. This is a site just for the photos of real people. Gotta appreciate that.

The second site (http://gofugyourself.typepad.com/) is the most mean, bitchy, condescending and nastily-funny site by two women who rip into celebrities and their bad outfits. It's such a guilty pleasure. Everyone who's ever been bad is on there--Lindsay Lohan, the HIlton sisters (as well as the sisters Duff), Britney writes "letters" to her fans here . . . this one you gotta read the text that goes with the photos. Despite the fact that I use "lol" in instant messages, I rarely laugh out loud while online, but this site will make me snort like a truffle-searching pig. I am in the middle of reading every single thing on the website because I am dismayed at the thought of missing something. Like they say, Fugly is the new pretty.

Tomorrow I'm going to the Belmont Wheelworks to buy Shot Blocs and Sport Beans. I would buy normal Jelly Belly beans, but there's only 4 flavors I like and then I have to find teeny tiny baggies to separate them so they're riding-friendly. I'm also going to look for a nice bright coloured jersey, preferably with reflective stripes because I dunno if drivers can see me. My mom said I should get one of those orange mesh vests. Yeah, RIGHT. A vest. Next I'm gonna put a basket on the handlebars, too.

Kate sent me the website of the Fat Cyclist and he had an article on how to be a bike snob. As just evidenced, I'm well on my way.

Kyra Sedgwick (or however you spell it) of the show The Closer gets on my nerves. A lot. And I don't even watch her show. I'm just a hapless victim of the commercials.

I'm gonna go fug myself by reading about the bad Emmy outfits.

I'm Sounding Like Dan . . .

I realized that all of these posts are about cycling, and I apologize, it's just that there's really and genuinely not a whole lot going on in my life. I watch movies and read and surf online and go riding.

Today I went out, rode to the end of the Minuteman trail and was trying to decide where to go when I saw a guy in a I (heart) TX jersey. He was with another guy, and I rolled up and asked if he was actually from Texas. He assured me he was, and I told him I was too and had been here a week with my bike and where should I go from here (the end of the trail)? He told me where he was going, and said there was one pretty long hill, and told me I was welcome to follow along.

So I did, and we're cruising and it's pretty and green and the weather is 68 and the cars are pretty respectful.

When we got to the hill, I recognized it before I even got on it. I don't know exactly how long it was, but it sucked a lot. It's probably the only long hill in all of eastern Massachusetts. The guys were (naturally) in front of me, and ended up about 10 seconds ahead, but I made it up and was proud of myself. Then I followed them back to the Minuteman trail and finished my ride. About 26 miles total, and I unexpectedly got my hills done today too.

Yay for Texans. Their names were Paul and Lance and they were from Tyler. I dunno how long they'd been here or what for, but they were friendly enough to let me tag along. That's always appreciated.

I still feel like a kid when I'm on a bike and ride with guys. I feel like I'm 10 again and they're all older than me, mysterious middle-schoolers who are bigger and talk about things I don't understand.

By sitting out on the porch after dinner I finished A Rumor of War, a book I stole from Dan, and realized I need to read more about Vietnam. I don't know nearly enough. All I read this summer was World War I literature, which is probably my historical favorite, but I hadn't thought of the parallels between WWI and Vietnam until just now. The way they were such huge turning points for soldiers and civilians, the righteousness and ultimate disillusionment that followed.

My backside hurts from that damn hill.

I Don't Need No Recovery Day

So Kate e-mailed me on Wednesday (she reads this . . . how do people find the nonsense I put up here?) and said she had a riding route. You can imagine my glee--a trail that's mostly away from traffic and is nice and wide and shady. The best news? It's only about two miles from my house, in Arlington. (Lexington? Concord? I don't really know all the places it runs through.)

Tuesday I'd been out on the roads without any real mishaps, but I drove to meet Kate just in case. The last thing I wanted was to have to call her and tell her I'd face-planted myself into the back of a Nissan or something and would be late. So we got there (she has a Giant OCR too) and then headed out on the Minute Man trail. It's 9 miles out, 9 miles back, and we did it twice. It ends at an intersection with a train car and a Giant bike shop, but we didn't have time to explore. It was pretty much dark by the time we got back.

Kate has to actually do work yesterday, so I rode out to the trail (along Mass. Ave all the way and I'm still alive), rode out, explored a bit, got scared by traffic and came back. A total of 27 miles. I felt pretty good because I only got passed by guys who were good.

I've done three days in a row and a total of about 80 miles. Sweet action.

It started thunderstorming last night as I was going to bed and it's still kinda raining now. Additionally, it's 63 degrees right now. That's only 4 degrees from the 50s. That's a bit bizarre.

I started out with the intention of riding three days, taking a day off, riding three days, day off . . . the same way Topper and I train. But I slept late (as per usual with no work), ate breakfast, dinked around, ate lunch, am dinking some more, and with no ride to look foward to, I'm in a semi-funk. Riding is the only thing keeping me from going loopy from boredom and brain damage from watching too much TV.

Perhaps I'll go out today after all. I'll let a little air out of my tires so they're a bit grippy and then maybe work on hills or something away from traffic. It could be my first day to test my new jacket, too. (Yay for buying winter clothing at a summer sale in Texas. It doesn't get much cheaper.)

Yesterday I saw a KFC commercial and those drumsticks looked so damn good. Right now I'm watching a commercial for some hair product and the girl is about the worst actor ever. And now the Fanta commercial is on. There's a KFC around the corner. I passed it yesterday when I rode home.

Same Play, Scene Two

I'm back in Boston. Dan and I got here last Wednesday night after three days in the car, nicely broken up by lunch with an old professor-friend of his now in Arkansas and then dinner with Kerry, Dan's sister, in DC. It was pretty fun. I love the fact that we can do a drive like that and everything is relaxed and ok. I got all pissy one morning, but it was due to a lack of sleep and stress over my cover story for the Fort Worth Weekly. The final draft was still inwork while we were on the road, which sucked, but what can you do? When there's a story, you gotta do it. And I love that Dan does the same thing and understands.

Dan and I tooled around town for a few days--or rather, in the evenings. I let Dan sleep late while I worked on edits until dinner time, then we'd go out and get dinner and walk around. Friday evening was especially nice. We wandered in and out of bike shops and down to Harvard Square and watched the street performers and then caught dinner and wandered back. The weather was beautiful and we'd bought a gift for Loren's birthday and we had nowhere to go, nothing to do. Once we got back to the house I realized I'd left my keys inside, so we were locked out for a few hours, but we just went down to Mike's to have beer and watch the game.

Saturday afternoon Dan left, just barely making his flight because the T was slow and he got the full security treatment at the airport. Megan leaves tomorrow to go back to Texas for three weeks before her classes start, so I'm pretty much here alone with my bike. Now that my story is done, it's almost like there's nothing to do. I should be happy, but I'm in a slight funk. It's just that people from school still aren't back and there's only so many miles you can do until the stress of the traffic starts getting to you.

But at least now I know I can cycle and not get killed. Sunday I drove down to the river to give the Charles trails a try. What a mistake. It was horrible. Not a single person out there knew what they were doing, and it was just bad. The trails were of crappy condition, and were narrow and all the walkers and clueless people in the city were on them. I spent more time going 2 mph and dodging people than doing anything else. Memorial Drive was blocked off for a bit, and so with the whole street I could get up to 23, 24, but then the barricaded part of the street ended and that was it.

Today I had better luck out on the streets. It was downright scary in some parts, but I was out for an hour and was doing pretty well. The only time things got dodgy is when I had to merge into the left lane to turn into my neighborhood. But I was doing a steady 20 for most of it and the hills weren't a problem. I'm much better, which makes me happy. Next time I ride with Dan I don't want him to have to slow up for me too much.

While he and I were in the ATA bike shop I decided my next bike goal is to do a century ride. By next December. That will give me almost a year to train in a better climate after school. But I want to do the full 100 miles and I want to do it well--no lightening speed or anything, but to keep at least a pretty steady pace and not crap out. Dan was really encouraging and said I could do it without any problems (or anything but the normal problems), and I think I can too--I can do 30 and 40 well now, so I'm excited. My goal is also to do one NOT in the summer heat. That would suck.

Boston, take two.

Woe Is Me Money

Most of the things I've stressed out about this summer have been related to A) my checkbook and B) my credit card. I'm not a fan of this whole thing. Not that I've ever just spent money all over the place, but having to pass up on something I want at a grocery store is ridiculous. They're just peaches, for goodness' sake. Or having to bum food off my sister because she has a paying job (had, I guess, since she quit). It's ridiculous. I'm going to max out my credit card probably before school even starts, and my parents have been giving me money.

I broke my phone yesterday. More specifically, Topper broke my phone. I was talking on it and he swung his big head around and cracked it right out of my hand in two pieces. It made me very sad, because that's one more thing I have to pay for, and on the other hand I was glad to be rid of the damn thing because I hate flip phones. My two wonderful ringtones are also gone, though. Bummer. Dan got a new phone and I got his old one, which is study and NOT a flip phone, so at least that's good.

My car has required stuff too, which is money from my parents which makes me feel guilty. The battery died, then had to get the trunk fixed before heading back up to wet Boston, and then it's gotta get a full check-up before leaving to cross the country again. Moving is expensive. Hotels and gas and food. And the tolls. I spend like $20 on tolls. And I decided to take my car up to school, so I have to ship up a lot of the stuff I brought back in order to fit my bike in the car.

I picked a fight yesterday with Dan over $8. It's pitiful. I hate it. And I can't figure out my financial aid bullshit. I'm going to have to call the school tomorrow.

This isn't meant to sound like a big gripefest. Things have been good. The weather has been below 100 now, and I can ride Topper. He loves it, and so do I. My sister is also in a new apartment that's very cool, and I could probably move in there when I come back if I need to. It would save money--that's for sure, and goodness knows I'll have to do that. Dan and I will be heading north soon and then I can find a second job. I will be the only intern (count: ONLY) with a cover story from this summer. That will be badass. Dan gets some obscure soap opera channel, so I can watch Beverly Hills 90210. I was never allowed to watch it the first time around, so this is very funny and amusing in a weird way.

I will be glad to get my loans, get some money, pay off my credit card and bike (that's almost as much as another maxed-out credit card) and start saving again. This whole spending thing isn't my style.

Take Two

I actually tried updating this about a week ago, and I got everything out and written and then accidently closed the window and everything I'd worked on disappeared. I couldn't get it to come back and didn't feel like re-typing it all, and it's just now I'm getting around to it. That's because right now it's Wednesday night, Dan's working cops, and I'm with my sister and some of her friends watching Edward Scissorhands. I remember being about 6 and trying to spell "scissors" at school in Orford and failing a couple dozen times. Good thing my education has taught me something.

I guess I should start a few weeks ago, back when Dan got a scholarship from the Texas Rangers and got great free tickets and parking and a giant plastic check presented to him down on the field. John and his friend Dan (who's also dating someone named Liz) came with and the three of us watched Dan on the widescreen from the bar as he got his check. He looked uncomfortable, but he got to keep the check and then come up and have drinks with us. (He also got a coupon for 15% off at the Diamond Club, where we drank.) The best thing is he got to keep the giant plastic check. I love it.

We didn't stay for the entire game because Dan and I had a time trial in Royse City the next morning that we had to race in. We left way to freaking early because it was about an hour drive and we had to get there for warm-up and sign waivers and everything and we had some of the first start times. We got there and found that the course was over hills . . . what a bitch. Plus, everyone else at this was on a TT bike with disc wheels and aero bars and drove luxury SUVs. People with way too much money. I rode part of the course as a warm-up, and they started us off in 30 second intervals. I was the 6th person to go, and was feeling pretty good until all the guys on slick bikes started passing me. The disc wheels made them sound like a car with a flat was coming up behind me at 40 mph. It was startling. It really pissed me off when a hugely fat man on a TT bike blew past me. How is it that guy could lug all his weight up a hill so fast?

But I finished and my average speed was 17mph, which is pretty damn good for hills. Furthermore, I did not finish last, so that was good. It was my first race, and I liked it, and I hope to do more. Especially now, two weeks later, because I've learned how to climb better. Dan's a good trainer.

After the race we went back to Fort Worth because Topper was getting blistered. It's about as basic and medieval as it sounds. As previously discussed (I feel like a professor), he completely tore a tendon in his back leg, up in his pelvic area. With blistering, they stick a 12-inch needle right straight down into his hip and inject a mixture to irritate the area. The irritation will hopefully promote the growth of scar tissue to connect the end of his tendons again. That way I can ride him again, even if he can't jump. The mixture is iodine with almond oil--the oil binds with the iodine and keeps it from being absorbed too quickly and shocking the body too much. Next week we'll find out if it worked, if it's making scar tissue grow. It if doesn't work, I can never ride him again, never take him out . . . and that would make me sad. I love him as a big cuddle companion, but I know he'd be happier if he could work. It would give him mental stimulation, keep him fit (he's the fittest horse of his age I've seen in a long time, and I'm proud of that), give him something to look forward to, some variety. I reallyreally hope it works.

This past weekend was all waiting for my parents to get here. The Kelly family reunion (my dad's dad's mother) is in San Antonio and my parents were coming to partake and this Monday and Tuesday were spent down there with them for my sister's birthday. She turned 20. That makes me feel hella old. But my parents were fun. The same old stuff. The grandparents were ok too. My mom's dad, who lives in New Braunfels, looks exactly the same as he did when I was really little--he's 82ish now. My dad's parents are good too--my grandmother is just the cutest, sweetest little thing, and my grandfather was showing his stubborn side. He was just barging around. It was borderline annoying. But my sister and I had a good time together, at least. It's great to know it's always the two of us.

I have three weeks left in my internship. I have a month left in Texas. The Tour is almost over and it looks like Floyd Landis may not win and the prolouge to the Tour next year is in London. Dan and I are going to try everything we can to go. How awesome would that be? No language barrier, like in France. But that's a year off, and here and now I've rambled on long enough. At this rate, I may not post again until I get back to Boston. But I'll try. I like being able to think out loud.

Riding in a Parade

I just got finished eating about a pound of cherries, a dessert after some leftover vegetarian enchiladas. Everyone knows I'm a huge fan of some beef and chicken, but these enchiladas are pretty damn amazing, I gotta say. Dan found the recipe in some vegan magazine, and we decided being vegan is overrated and folded in so much cheese it was insane but so good. Just for the record, I'm also watching Beverly Hills 90210. I was never allowed to watch it the first time around, and this summer I discovered it on some super cable channel. It amuses me quite a bit.

While I'm admitting things, I'll admit I am disgusting and desperately in need of a shower. Slept late today and then headed out for a 30 mile ride, which was really fun. It's the Fourth, and in Como (the GHETTO of Fort Worth . . . you don't ride through there after dark) there was a parade. Dan and I will ride through there to get to a wider road out to Benbrook, but today we rode through the parade. I felt like I was intruding. There were big pimped out cars with hydraulics and spinners and amazing sound systems and guys on horses and cops crawling around. They were throwing candy from cars, and the kids would get it, and that was the worst part--making sure we didn't have a kid dash in front of us. But we made it through and out to the lake.

Benbrook Lake is a nice place to go riding, I decided. Last time I was there it was my first 45-mile ride, and I was tired and hot and kinda miserable. Today I felt good, and all the rolling hills weren't as bad. I almost hit a wild turkey that was standing in the road around this sharp turn, but I was going slow enough that it could fly into a tree. That just cracked me up. Wild turkeys. They're so goofy.

There were clouds rolling in and thunder as we headed back from the lake, and although we didn't get rained on, we were riding on wet roads back. Since I was following very close behind Dan (usually 2 or 3 feet just behind his tire), I got a great spray of water. It felt good. The only thing is now that I'm dry, I realize how much grit was in that water. Kinda gross. But it was a good ride. Almost llike being out riding Topper when the weather is wild. The only thing is that with Topper, you always felt like you had a co-conspirator in some adventure. On a bike, you're on your own.

Saturday is the July time trial, since I missed the June one with my elbow. I'm pretty confident I can do well, especially after today. And then Saturday afternoon the vet comes out to blister Topper's leg. It's the last chance for his ligament to heal and for him to ever be ridden again. I was so completely sure he'd be ok when he got checked out at his 8-month mark--the vet had said that after 6 months, Nature could heal it--and then it was a hard blow to find out nothing had changed. Please let this treatment work . . . please let his leg get better. I will never, ever get rid of Topper, so if he becomes a giant pet, that's fine--he always was. But I know he likes being worked, I know he likes jumping and I know he likes going out for adventures as much as I do. I'm hopeful.

And I'm also still in need of a shower. I should take care of that.

Like Badgers and Bicycles

The summer is in full swing, and I probably would have completely forgotten to update this unless Eric had asked me to do something with it. I keep having to remind myself that this summer is just temporary and I really do have to go back to school for another semester. Times like this are just effortless, which I appreciate, and there's never any real stress and there's never any feeling of "fuck, I'm tired of the same freaking schoolwork" and there's definitely no month and a half of rain. Screw that. This is long hot days being good at what I do at work (and having fun at it, no less), aiming for the 50 mile bike ride (I did 45 last Sunday morning), lazing with Topper out in the grass and Texas thunderstorms.

Dan and I bought me a beautiful road bike about a month ago. Carbon fiber frame, low spoke count wheels, great components, beautiful black and gray . . . it's a guy's bike, but it's a compact racing frame, and in this small size it fits perfectly. The first night out (it was the end of my first day of my internship) we ended up getting caught in the dark and I ended up crashing over a cable, which was raunchy amounts of not-fun. My left arm ended up caught under me, which means it got torn up on the bad asphalt and I sprained my elbow pretty badly. I was able to get back on and ride partway home, where Stephen obligingly came to pick me up, and so he and I followed Dan (still on his bike) back to Fort Worth. I got a beautiful collection of bruises down my left side and a trip to the ER (just to double-check there was no fracture anywhere). That all got me a sling (which I didn't wear) and a vicodin prescription (I only used a couple because it's always good to keep some handy).

My elbow is ok now, though, and I can straighten my arm all the way again. Last Sunday's 45 mile ride was brutal-ish. It was ok except the air in Tarrant County is so freaking bad. Your lungs just start hurting. But with a good jersey and shorts you don't get too hot, so that's good. I'm working on my cycling tan. I want one like Dan's. It looks like someone put painter's tape around his thighs and then slathered his lower legs in a deep tan. The line is so sharp it just cracks me up. I like my bike, and I love the scenery and the heat and the accomplished feeling when I'm done. It all makes up for the occasional gnat in your eye and rare douchebag drivers and the braincells I bake.

I'm excited because I may get a paycheck in the next few weeks. My first story gets published next week. The Weekly only publishes one metro and one feature every week, so getting into the list can take some time. The metros are about 1200 words, and the features are about 3500 or so. I've got a feature I'm working on, slowly but surely, but it's gonna be a beast of a story, looking at corporate vs privately owned farms in Texas and the environmental impacts as well as the financial and social aspects. My metro was nice because it was my old Fort Worth beat--religion. Nothing scandelous this time, but it was good to get back into the groove. There's another story I'm working on with another guy from the Weekly, and it's about the water district using taxpayer money for the most stupid things, like buying $500 lunches. Misuse of public funds is bad. All the receipts and whatnot came from a FOIA request, and the communication guy at the water district now used to be a communications guy I worked with at the Skiff. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. Communication people make me nervous, like PR people.

These are really long paragraphs. I just realized that. It's not a very good example of decent journalism. But I'm watching Napoleon Dynamite and I just ate a huge bowl of strawberries and I need a shower, so I'll leave it at that. My life isn't hugely exciting right now, but I'm thoroughly happy. I have to check how much money I have in order to buy shampoo, but it's nice outside and I'm home. I can't ask for much more.

This Is My Sigh of Deep Content

In exactly one week I will be DONE with this school year! One week. Seven days. I don't really care how many hours, because I'm just so glad to be near done.

I've only been to one class this week, really, because of some problems with US Airways and American Airlines. I would never have thought two airlines would have problems in the same night, but I don't think I missed much and it just puts me that much closer to the end of everything.

My Easter break turned long, which was alright, because there was a lot that happened. Finding out Charles died was a huge blow to Dan and his brother; that's not a cool call to get on Easter. Nor was it easy to face when we went to see his family. It was much worse for everyone else there, but it was odd for me because I was an outsider intruding on the grief of others. How do news reporters deal with that? It was hard enough when I was reporting on the stuff at the divinity school, and that was reputations shredded and religions twisted and people molested, but no one died. And just to make a hassle, Topper hurt himself on Easter as well, and while it's not horrible, it wasn't good.

Aside from all that, there were falconers to hang out with, hawks to watch as they eat birds, teenagers to laugh at and internship interviews. I got one at the Fort Worth Weekly for the summer, and as much as I thought I wanted the Star-T, I think this is better for me. Dan deserves to be at the Star-T, and he'll give them better stuff for them than I would have been able to. He's good for them, and they know it, so they'll give him the opportunities to do awesome stuff. Like this weekend, how he's off hobnobbing with bigwig cyclists at the Tour of Georgia for them.

But the Weekly is much more open to long pieces about sort of random topics, which is good for me. Science and health and environment and stuff like that is all well and good, but it's hard to do in a way that anyone gives a flying fuck in shorter stories. The Weekly will give me the leeway to be quirky and weird and do all the stuff I really like, like hang out with goofy people. I'm all about that. And then I get to write about it.

This summer will kick ass. I can feel it coming. Topper will be there for me, regardless of how much I can work him or not, and he'll appreciate the company and attention. Julie will be there, which is good because my last true girlfriend has moved to Georgia (boo for Emily moving). Dan will be around doing the same type of work but different enough from mine to keep things interesting; I'm always thankful I'm dating another journalist.

Things did, in fact, work out. That makes me so happy. Even though I worried and stressed out occasionally and thought of worst-case scenarios, things worked out perfectly.

It wasn't me that got everything to work out so well. There's a lot of things to be thankful for.

Madness

March Madness is up and going. I was watching the BC game while I was at the gym the other day, and even right now I'm watching the Kentucky/UConn game. (There's nothing else on TV.) I'm going to take a few moments to gloat, because I get the feeling I don't have long, but I've consistently been in the top three places of an online bracket group. My bracket has rocked the socks off everyone else in the group. That makes me happy because it's proof that I'm not quite as hopeless as people like to think.

I have to watch TV at the gym now because I decided I need to take up running. I love running for the first minute, and then I hate it, so I need something to distract me while I get better at it. Then, when it's warmer (does that ever come to Boston?) and when I'm a little more used to it, I can go outside and revel in it all.

Thank goodness the semester finally got more invigorating. Or maybe it's just me feeling better, since there's hints that spring could be on the way. It's pretty consistently sunny, and it's even supposed to be in the mid-40s for this week. That makes me happy, but at the same time I'm wistful.

This time last year things were starting to look up. I was getting over being sick and things were being smoothed out with Dan. We'd skip class to go get breakfast at Taco Cabana. I went tanning. Hours were lazy at the barn, since I still couldn't ride. My ugly sweaters weren't essential anymore, because it was warm. Even my classes were good (except music theater . . . psshht, hehe).

Dan left here Wednesday. We'd gone to bars and walked the Freedom Trail and gone to a Bruins game and he'd gone cycling. We'd rented movies and ate a lot of pizza from the best pizza place ever. It made me optimistic, having him here. It's bright and sunny outside and despite the cold, it's not as dark as it used to be. Days are getting longer, and I saw little spears of flowers coming up in gardens today. I'm going to see a movie early this evening, and today so far has been lazy.

We're going to repeat happy thoughts and, for once this semester, actually believe in them:
I will get an internship.
I will be just fine in my classes, even Doug's magazine writing class.
I will see spring in Boston.
I will move back to Texas for the summer.
I will find out that Topper's leg is just fine, but because he'll take another 3 or 4 months to rehab . . .
I will buy a road bike.
I will be an ok runner, even if never great.
I will be thankful for the sun.
I will be so excited to wear T-shirts and skirts and flipflops all the time again.

Whew.

Fortnight

Spring break is in another 2 weeks. That's ridiculously early. I just got back from a weekend at home on Monday, and I'll be leaving again not next Friday but the Friday after that. Two weeks. Hot damn.

As per usual, it was great being home. I love every single minute I'm in Texas. It's always good--if I'm hanging with Julie and Michael, with the guys and Emily, at a bar or party, seeing the horses out at the barn or just being on the couch with Dan. (I'm so glad he has a full-sized one now. It was cramped on that loveseat.)

It's still hard to get into this semester. There's a lot of work to do before spring break, and I'm having a hard time getting myself into it. This is going to be a 3-day weekend, and I'm gonna be doing a lot of writing. The weather here has been drop-dead gorgeous. There was a blizzard over the weekend, while I was conveniently in Texas, but since then it's been sunny and 50. You can't ask for anything more. If it's cold and rainy this weekend, it's ok. Then I won't feel as bad about being locked up inside doing work.

Which is ok, I guess, because it's not like I did anything too strenuous at home.

This is random, but I really, really, really don't like that there's an entire industry built around air fresheners. Not just things that neutralize the air, but all sorts of things to make it smell different. Since when did no-smell become bad? Fuck you, Glade Wick; fuck you, Febreze Noticeables; fuck you, Lysol Neutra Air. And double fuck you to whatever one has the stupid "CDs" that play different "scent stories."

Dirty Snow And Sushi

This winter has been abnormally warm here, and there's been a definite lack of precipitation. (This is not a complaint.) Last winter they had blizzards and horrible weather and the whole shebang, and somehow we have yet to get out of fall weather. I like this.

Last night I went out for sushi for the first time ever with everyone from school. It was in the 40s or so, which was wonderful, and it was almost enough to get rid of all the dirty black and grey snow. The nine of us racked up a $242 bill on sushi, and then went to Boston Beer Works, across from Yawkey Way, and I had a Fenway Pale Ale just because of the name.

I caught the T home and got off with a truckload of very drunk people. Watching them try to navigate escalators was kinda funny. At home Dan called and wanted to know why I said I hated Boston. (I'd had up an away message saying something like, Today is kind of sunny and warm and niceish, and all I can think about is that I hate Boston because it's still all concrete.) I'd been feeling up and down like a rollercoaster all day, and that just made me feel horrible, sitting there on the phone.

Can you help it if you don't like a place? Hate is a strong word; I don't hate Boston. I don't even dislike it, really . . . I just don't like it nearly as much as other places.

I think Dan is still surprised every time I get homesick.

The sushi was largely ok, but I'm not sure it's something I'd ever crave. I woke up in the middle of the night with my stomach feeling really, really bad.

I'm generally moody and discontent. School is fine, and I'm working hard at not procrastinating too much and putting a lot of time into the gym. But when I get to the apartment, I don't want to be here. It feels stale. If I leave and go elsewhere, I feel as though I'm just avoiding something.

Megan comes home on Tuesday, and I'm so glad.

And there's a ticket back to Fort Worth for two weeks from now, for which I'm even more glad.

Things will be better. Things aren't bad. It's just me.

Dirty Jobs

Dan got offered a semi-editorial spot for the sports department of a Star-T owned paper.

Emily got offered a reporting job out in California.

Dirty Jobs on the Discovery Channel is perpetually entertaining.

And I'm still worried about internships for the summer. If I don't get the Star-T or Newsweek internship, I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't want to work for a magazine or a corporation or lab or institution. But I will if I have to. I just don't want to be forced into a position where I have to apply to something like that.

A woman on the street asked me for spare change. I gave her all the single bills I had in my wallet, and when I was inside the store picking up dinner, I realized I should have asked her if she wanted anything to eat. I told myself that if she were still there when I got out, I'd buy her dinner too. But she was gone.

I think this semester I'm going to try to buy a homeless person food if they ask me for change. I know there's some out there who would rather just have the cash, in which case I'll give it to them if I have it (I have to admit today was a fluke that I actually had money), but I figure it's worth a try.

Besides, it should be interesting.

I need something to distract me from schoolwork and how much I miss being home.

I Like Pain

Today was the first day of classes for the spring semester and my first day at the gym since before Thanksgiving, when I was gone, then came back, got sick, was swamped with finals, and left again for winter break. The stair-thingy hurt a bit today, but it was great, and I hope I'm sore tomorrow. Being sore is a great feeling. The gym made me happy. This is the exercise I've had since last time I was there:
— One leisurely hour-long bike ride on flat ground without Dan
— One miserable panic-attack ridden ride in the dark with Dan before I figured out how to shift correctly
— Two painful but triumphant rides on the loop including The Hill
— Playing lacrosse with the wall on the raquetball court in Florida
— Fending off tackles from Dan, and tackling him in return
— Fighting for covers against The Otter
— Poker (it's on ESPN, so therefore counts as a sport and hence exercise)
— Attending Stars hockey games
— Ordering margaritas

All in all, I guess I did a lot of work over break.

Dan's got a very exact training schedule to prepare for the Ride for a Dream over the summer. He has a chart and for every single day he's calculated how many miles he has to go. What blows me away isn't to much that he did it or that he'll stick to it pretty faithfully, but that he seems willing to take off an entire week of training for spring break and coming up here. I hope everything works out. If he could come up, Boston would be so much better.

And my mom wants to come up later in the month on her spring break, which would be equally kick-ass. I don't mind going back to Fort Worth all the time, because I'd say about 80% of my life is there, but it's good to know people can come see the other bit. I just hope the weather is semi-ok, because I've heard March is about the worst month.

What little tolerance I had for the cold I lost because Fort Worth was abnormally warm. Here it's abnormally . . . well, nothing. It's just abnormal to me, I guess. And I'm abnormal, because I'm always cold anyhow.

And I'm out of books again. I've read some really good ones lately, so now I'm hungry for more.

Speaking of hungry, I think I'm going to find food. I want chocolate. Besides, I'm going to the gym again.

You'lll Shoot Your Eye Out, Kid

One week from right now I will be on a plane back to Texas, the day after Christmas.

Doing it that way has me sort of excited. It means the whole Christmas thing is sort of drawn out, celebrated here with the family and in Texas with the friends. I'm looking forward to that.

Tonight I found myself getting angry because I heard about someone's random play. It's sort of stupid of me, I know, because I don't have any control over it and it doesn't affect me (Dan is so rational sometimes, telling me not to worry if it doesn't affect me, but I can't help it sometimes).

What ever happened to going out on a date with someone before getting into stuff like that? Why do people put themselves out there like that, and why aren't there some people with the dignity not to take everything possible as soon as possible? Can't anyone turn anything down these days?

Just because you can do something doesn't mean you should.

And by the way, yeah, I'm done getting self-righteous now. I have very, very few things to get annoyed with as far as my own life goes. Except perhaps that the cat keeps taking my seat if I ever get up and go to my room or kitchen. She's addicted to warm spots. And there's a Biore Pore Perfect commercial about do you ever wish you could wear 4-inch heels without the pain? Or have perfect skin without too much shine or oil? Every single girl in that commercial is wearing a scarf. Take a look. It's vaguely funny.

My sister gets in tomorrow. I'm looking forward to that because it will be the family back together again. The four of us are better together than all separated. She called me at 1 a.m. to tell me about a white-light horse at Wal-Mart, like those reindeer people put in their yard. I think she was right: no one else would get it.

This is the first Christmas without Ginger, our orange tabby cat. He died in May, and it's weird having the tree up without him sleeping under it all the time and hooking all the ornaments down with his paws. He was 18 years old when he died, and Mom hung up his favorite knit ornament in honor of him, down where he could have reached it if he wanted to.

It seems Christmas Carol-ish, but everything this time of year is a big jumble of the past, present and future. And all three are pretty good. And TBS is still doing the 24 hours of the Christmas Story. Score.

I Survived!

Monday night I flew into the Tampa airport, my first time in Florida since right after my freshman year. Back then, I'd been out of school for about two weeks and my friend Christine from TCU drove to Alabama, where we were living, and she and I drove down to Fort Walton Beach in north Floriday for the day. We got THE WORST sunburns ever. Ever. Seriously. I fell asleep on my stomach, and thank god my ass didn't get burned, but I couldn't sit except on the edge of chairs for a few weeks. It blistered the back of my legs. Just when I recovered from that, I shattered my arm falling off a horse and was in a splint for months. Altogether, the sunburn involved more pain.

Bu yeah, I'm back in Florida. It's 75 degrees right now. I went out to practise my lacrosse skills so Dan doesn't kill me on the practise field, and it was hot and sunny and I was in a tanktop and rolled-up jeans and still hot. My goal is to get a little bit of a tan out there on the raquetball court. It would be fantabulous.

Tuesday I slept till noon, lounged around the house with the cat, went out for a walk, and spent the evening with my parents. Yesterday I got up and started some work on my final project, my feature about nature and hurricanes for my magazine writing class with Doug. I had a dentist appointment in the afternoon, and that took way longer than I expected, so I had to rush to finish my feature. It got sent it at deadline, but I'm not happy with it. I don't think it's nearly as good as it could be.

Which is disturbing. I thought I wanted to be a science magazine writer, but I have zero aptitude for magazine writing. Doug talks about the differences between a notion and an idea, and all my story pitches fell flat, except the last one, and this is the topic I least wanted to write about. But what can you do? At least I still largely whupped everyone else's ass in the newswriting class.

I like the XM radio commercial where Snoop's bling gets ripped by David Bowie.

I also like being here with my parents, but Florida is not home. I love my parents so, so much, and I'm so grateful to them for everything they give me, but my life is not here anymore. My life is in Boston, with Megan and school and my schoolmates, and my life is in Fort Worth, with my sister and friends and school and Topper and Dan. With my teeth pretty feeling again and my mouth all fresh and all of me feeling showered and unstressed and relaxed and cute again, I'm so ready to kiss him and have him around all the time again.

Don't get me wrong, I liked kissing Miss Erin Steen last New Year's, but now that she's engaged in Wisconsin, I dunno if I could arrange that again. I think Dan will make a good substitute, though. =c)

The Worst Story Ender Ever

So you know that whole cliche of "Only time will tell"? That's what I've been thinking of for the past few weeks because I wasn't sure how I'd be doing by the time stuff ended at school for the semester. But my video group got our documentary on bacteria that breathe uranium done (funky-fresh) and today I got most of my radio documentary on Dumpster diving situated, ready to be finalized and polished Monday. Tonight (or maybe tomorrow, I'm feeling sort of lazy) I'll do my last news article, and then Wednesday I'll finish my feature article about hurricanes and their effects on nature.

Tuesday night I left at 8:30 p.m. and returned Wednesday morning at 4:30 a.m. for my Dumpster diving stuff. It was fucking freezing outside, and I ran out of batteries and tape, but I still had a rocking good time (I think this is the story to define this semester for me). Just ask me about it and how cool it was.

I was dead tired for my 9:30 class on Wednesday, needless to say, after 3 hours of sleep, and after class we had to tidy our film documentary and then head out to Gino's. Since he's an actual big-time producer, he had a nice place outside the city with a gorgeous little studio. I want a writing-slash-art studio like that some day. But our film got a pretty good reception, and afterward we got to see a bit of the major documentary Gino's been working on. It'll be pretty nifty when it comes out.

Thursday morning our radio professor showed up, bitched us out for not having our stuff done (she's KNOWN this for weeks, that our stuff would be late) and then cancelled class. I figured I'd take a nap on the department couch and then get to work on other stuff, but I fell asleep for three hours. I gave up and went home and got some work done there and had pizza with Chelsea and then did internship applications.

On Friday I did more internship stuff and stuff for my news article. And then today, Saturday, I was supposed to work from 8 to 3, and I ended up calling and telling them I couldn't go in. I had found out that they were shutting down the school at 4, and I needed to do my radio stuff. It was also supposed to be my last day of work, and I could tell from the phone that I majorly pissed off the manager. Does it make me a horrible person to call out on my last day of work? I suck at being a normal employee.

So my Saturday was spent at school. I'm in this time warp; it's hard to believe it's the weekend because it doesn't seem like it. But most of my radio stuff is sort of okay. If I get out of class early Monday and have a few hours between that and when our class got rescheduled to meet, I'll be fine.

Right now I should be doing laundry, but I'm not. I should be cleaning, but I'm not. Maybe I should be packing, or writing my news article, but I'm not. I'm in bed with my computer on my lap and thinking about going to sleep at 10 on a Saturday night. Rock on, baby, rock on, rock on.

Only time will tell . . . but now I think I can survive this pretty well.

Cowboy Boots And Wool Coats (And Dumpsters)

It's been about forever since I updated this thing. Sorry to anyone who had a spare 10 minutes on their hands and was desperate enough to wonder, geez, if Liz's thing were up, I could procrastinate a little bit more . . . But let me just say that right now, I feel good. My throat is sore and I'm all stuffy, but really, I'm feeling okay. Things (as of today) are coming together with school for the last push, and I'm SO ready for a good month-long vacation. I'm giddy at the thought of all the fun it's going to be, and I'm so excited to be getting on to spending all my time with my favorite people.

A quick update on why I didn't update. Okay, I lied, this isn't going to be short at all. But I haven't updated in a while, right? And it's the end of the year and you guys need to waste as much time as possible because there's so much to do.

I was going back and forth from Texas and then doing four reporting classes and working on Saturdays at the cafe . . . I spent Thanksgiving with Dan's family. It was a good time; they all feel completely like family, and how can I NOT have fun if I'm with Dan, but coming back I got a cold. Now, a week after I came back and got really sick, I'm still feeling a bit off and with school and work, I doubt I'll get better before I go to Tampa.

(For the record, this is the second time I've come back from Texas sick.)

But anyway, I got back and had this near panic attack because of all the work that has to be done. I have news articles, a big-ass feature article, and two documentaries, one of which is a group project. To make things better, it's a group project with Pat, a guy who drives me nuts, and Jon, a guy who actually dropped out of the program. So, that's awkward. Yesterday there was a fiasco when Pat and I agreed about a type of script that adhered to what the professor said and Jon wanted something completely different and would not compromise. At all. Merely yelled at us, instead.

The whole thing is bizarre. But my other documentary, my radio one, is slowly coming together. It's about Dumpster diving. It will hopefully rock like a mo'fo, and I'm trying to get out to go wade around in Dumpsters. I'm excited, I have to admit. There's a huge culture out there. It started with Loren sending me an article about freegans (free+vegan), vegans who get all their veggie-happy food out of Dumpsters. They get a lot of other things out of the trash, too. Now, I'm a huge fan of Goodwill, and half the stuff in there should in the trash, but actually swimming through trashbags and other, real, genuinely gross stuff? Stay tuned. Hopefully I'll have some awesome stories to share over drinks when I hit Cowtown again.

Also on the topic of radio, the professor offered me a TA position next semester. I'd get $1000 for about five hours of work a week, as opposed to the about $700 I've made this semester working eight hours a week at the cafe. This is happy because now I get to quit. I've never quit a job before, really quit. I'm excited. I want out of there fast. I don't hate it, but I really don't like it. Any not having to deal with difficult customers? Golden.

My articles are slow going, but they'll get done. Like I said, I had a near panic attack this week. I just felt like there was so much, and then there was a final exam thrown into everything, and it was a pain. Plus, sick and not enough sleep. But! There is good news. For example, Betty Crocker now makes little cakes you just pop in the microwave. And they're good, too.

It's Friday night. Next Friday night, I will be finished with everything but my feature article. Then a few days after that, on Monday, I'll be on my way to Tampa for Christmas (and to finish my feature article). Back to Fort Worth on the night of the 26th to join in the debauchery of Dan's 21st. The adventure of that may beat even Dumpster diving.

If I can survive the next week, I'll be set. It's turning cold again. I've been told it's been a really, really mild fall, and I guess I believe it. Today I broke out my wool coat. I love it. I feel important in it, and it was supposed to snow late this afternoon so I wore my boots. (Not my snow boots. I still haven't come to peace with those.) Cross fingers it doesn't snow before I go home. I don't want to deal with walking on ice in addition to everything else. I'm busting my ass as is without needing to fall on it, too.

The Smell Of Tofu

So going home was great, as I'd expected, and coming back was a shock because of classes (ew) and then I got sick. Bad sick, throat sick again; I think I caught Stephen's cancer. I ended up going to Mass General Hospital because a doctor couldn't see me, and then I spent Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday in bed.

But now I think I'm recovered, just in time to deal with internship applications for the fall. No one else in the program wants to work in a newsroom, so I'm the only one frantically gathering up clips and cover letters.

I should be working on stuff right now, but I ate Mike's Pizza for dinner and am feeling lazy. Plus, Megan just cooked tofu, and it's such a bizarre smell that I can't concentrate long enough to get anything done.

Trying to find airline tickets to go home for Thanksgiving is giving me a headache. Several headaches, actually. I don't want to stay here in Boston on my own. I would spend the whole weekend crying, I'm sure of it.

Oh my gosh, that tofu smell . . .

My dad and I had a conversation about squirrels the other day. What happens to squirrels in the winter here? Are they warm enough? What happens to the homeless? Am I the only person who worries?

Getting Reacquainted With Sleep

I'm going home for the second time Thursday, and I booked a direct flight because I'm determined never to go through Detroit again. This time I won't take a jar of pineapple in my backpack or check bags, either. Screw that.

I have tomorrow off, because it's Columbus Day. So I had class Thursay morning . . . and I don't have class again til Wednesday night, because my Monday class is cancelled and my Wednesday morning professor is in Australia. It's weird, I have this feeling like I've got all the time in the world to sleep. How great is that?

I just have to remember to wake up before my air mattress loses too much air and I wake up half on the floor.

Summer finally let go up here this weekend. It started raining Friday and didn't really stop until today, and it's still overcast and misty-drizzly. It's cold, too, and I'm beginning to believe I really need to redo my closet. If it weren't for Liz coming out to spend the evening shopping with me yesterday, I wouldn't have a coat for this weather. (I picked up a great one for the fall at Target; yay Target.)

Two hours with a good book and a coffee at Starbucks seemed like the best way to spend my Sunday evening, and after eating take-out Indian, I think I'm ready to layer on some nightclothes, find another blanket, and head to bed again.

Long weekends are good. Knowing I'm going home for next weekend makes it even better.

Enter October

So the whole song by Green Day, Wake Me Up When September Ends — good idea, I have to admit. It's been an exhausting month, and I admit to coming home last night and being in bed by 9:30 or so. It was pitiful. But so needed. I'm past the point of exhaustion, although I'm not quite sure why. I'm getting 7 hours a night, roundabout . . . but the exhaustion is akin to what I felt like this spring, when I'd almost rather sleep than do anything.

But when I'm awake and remember to keep calm (I'm on the verge of drowning in classwork), it's pretty nice. The weather today was crystal clear (good, because yesterday I got caught without a sweatshirt or umbrella in really cold, windy rain, for quite a walk) and crisp, around 55, perfect for being outside. It was really fall, and it made me happy. And tonight, when it was dark and cool and I was walking home off the subway, I could smell wood fires going inside the houses I passed. I love the smell of fall.

Fall is good before it gets too wintery. I'm worried. I may freeze to death. Third semesters were telling me about blizzards (blizzards!) and tunnels through the snow. Right now is perfect for football and stuff like that.

Oh, and the end of the baseball season, too. Sweet action. This whole Red Sox thing is deadly infectious. It's so intoxicating. Chalk me up to being brainwashed. And a huge plus is that I bought a Sox hat and I can wear it whenever my hair is sticking up everywhere and I'd rather sleep a few minutes than deal with it (Read: almost every day).

Only two more weeks until I'm home again. How did that happen? It'll be a homecoming.

Big Old Jet Airliner

Four more nights until I'm home. Actually, if you count this the way I used to count my school week, it's only two nights. (Don't count today/tonight, because it's already happening, and don't count the one right before something happens, so Wednesday night won't count. That leaves just Monday and Tuesday nights.)

I'm excited. Tomorrow I'm going out shopping so I have stuff to take back. I love being able to come bearing gifts.

This week my writing assignments just involved bringing in story ideas, which is sort of weird. No writing to do? Just come up with three ideas for each of the two classes? Badass. I found some interesting stuff while sorting through the journals down in the periodicals room of the library. That's probably the room where I'll spend the most research time, and it's depressing as all get-out because it's in the basement, low ceilings, bad lighting, sort of dark and dull. It's like being in the dungeon. The perk is there are big couches down there, and people unabashedly nap there, sprawling out and sling an arm over their eyes and just conking out. I fell asleep on the couch in the department lounge earlier this week, and the library couches will keep the third semester guys from coming in and laughing at me when I'm all fuzzy, trying to wake up.

So I don't really have anything to say. I'm just excited. That's enough.

Please Get A Dress Code

I really shouldn't be doing this right now. It's 10:30 at night, I got home an hour ago from a day at school, and I really ought to be writing the two briefs due for class at 9. I've finished my interviews and I need to get cracking on the writing and whatnot, but I just can't work up the umph to get on it. School has definitely started again; can you tell?

Plus, I'm going home in a little more than a week and spend all my spare time imagining how great it will be. I'm excited at the prospect of not sleeping alone on a stupid air mattress for a few nights and seeing people that I don't have to explain everything too. That's the thing with new people: you have to explain EVERYTHING. It's tiring. At least at home I only have to explain the past six weeks or so.

My days are long because I spend them at school, in class and in the gym. Class is class--although I think my radio broadcast class will be tons of fun. I feel great, walking around with this equipment and listening to everything. It's nice to focus on sound instead of images.

The gym has a kick-ass rock wall, and I'm establishing myself there. But the rest of the gym gives me mixed feelings. I feel good because I'm like hey, I'm doing something good, yay me for working out . . . but then there's no dress code, so there's girls walking around in nonexistant shorts and bras and then I'm like, well, shit, no matter what I do here, it's not going to help. Plus, these girls are all really obnoxiously fake tanned, just like in Texas. It's just you can see more of it here, and it's depressing. The thing keeping me up is I have a way better upper body than them from the rock wall. So there. Keep your asses in your shorts, please.

I feel better about classes. I'm the baby. Three of the ten of us just graduated, but I didn't get a science degree (the other two did). The third semester guys like giving me a hard time because I'm a dork and talk a lot and am sort of clueless with a lot of science, like chemistry and physics and engineering and technology. (I know a lot more than they think I do. I like it when people underestimate me, though. Sets it up well for me to surprise them.)

I'm so tired. And I need a shower because I'm still covering in climbing chalk. And I still have two stories to do and a whole 14 hours to be at school tomorrow (class from 9:30-12:30, then class at 6pm . . . and seems stupid to spend two hours commuting back and forth so I can go home for the afternoon). And Seinfeld is on, so I'm going to procrastinate a bit that direction.

I can't wait to be watching TV and shooting the shit in Fort Worth.

Looking Outward

Tomorrow (today? I haven't been to bed yet) is orientation for school, even though it's Labor Day. Am I the only person who thinks it's weird? I don't have class on Tuesday, but then I'll have class on Wednesday and Thursday. I feel like I've been waiting forever for class to start . . . I know I've only been here about two and a half weeks, but it really does feel like forever ago that I got here. Without class, and without everyone up here, I felt like I had completely deserted myself up here somehow.

So I'm really glad class is starting.

Plus, I have something to work toward, now. I booked an airline ticket last night to go home in about two and a half weeks. I found a cheap one (no easy task since gas and oil have skyrocketed) and now I feel better about being here. I like having certain things to take for granted, because it gives me something to work hard for.

Speaking of something to work for . . . after a week of being cranky and difficult and mired in past offenses, I've decided to work harder at burying the hatchet with Dan. For the past six months we've had a really good relationship — and that's considerably longer than the two months of, well, not good stuff. A month ago I decided it was time to leave it be, but then some unexpected stuff came up. (I am continually amazed at how dense people can be.) I wasn't prepared for it. It was all the final stuff that I'd wanted taken care of months ago. It was all the last little nagging worries I'd had but just decided would never come to pass. But they did — and I don't think I reacted totally irrationally, but I'm tired of having to react at all. Maybe now things are tidied up, maybe now it won't be an issue anymore. I can certainly hope.

A friend warned me that because the beginning of our relationship really was founded on such rockiness, it's pretty stupid for either Dan or I to expect to totally forget what happened anytime soon.

But what's reassuring to me is that we had a lot of good stuff before all that. For months before we started dating, we became best friends. So we have months of great stuff, two months of shit, then six months of more good stuff . . . so while I've decided to not look at the past as much, perhaps I should remember our entire past, not just the uncomfortable parts.

And that gives me a lot more hope for the future. Because, as was said, "Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction."

Antoine de Saint-Exupery. What a name, huh?

Things in general are looking a lot better, out there.

Good Will

So Sunday I went out jogging, which turned into a 2 hour walk around Cambridge and everywhere here on the north side of the river. Yesterday I did another 2 hour walk, and came home and threw in some leg exercises too. Today I was going to go jogging and limit myself to an hour of being outside, plus some exercises at home, and give myself tomorrow off, but my legs are so sore I had a hard time getting off my air mattress this morning.

I decided after spending a school year in the newsroom and only getting to the gym sporadically, I should take the initiative to get back into a routine to keep myself from getting bored and depressed. And I've heard that BU just redid their gym, and it's awesome (although nothing's as cool as the Rickel), so that should help once it gets too damn cold to be outside.

It's the first day of classes at TCU today, I still have two more weeks of waiting, and I'm feeling a bit disconnected, like I don't have anything to do. (But wait for the UPS guy, who left a note saying he'd try again between 10:30 and 5. Bastard.)

And I've been working, of course, to save up money to fly back to Fort Worth asap. Along this line, the other day someone offered to help me out in buying tickets and whatnot. I don't quite remember when I'd been as flattered and complimented. When someone offers to do something for you because they WANT to, not because they somehow feel they HAVE to, it's remarkable. It made me feel like I should be more humble, for someone to give me something like that.

Isn't it funny how it takes people being nice to us to knock us down a peg and make us watch ourselves more closely? Someone being mean or cruel never does it as well, and always makes you spiteful, too. But when someone's nice . . . well, hell. Nice people rock.

And I think fruit baskets are one of the best inventions ever, so everybody should look at ediblearrangements.com. Mmm. Beautiful.

"Fly" In 20-Point Times New Roman

So for a while now I've wanted a tattoo that said "fly" on my ribcage right under my heart (no, not on my boob, right below it, you dorks). It's to remind myself I can always try and I can always be better . . . flying is astounding, and I can be astounding, but it requires work. (That's why I decided against the word "soar," even though I'm afraid people will see "fly" and think of supa-fly or something. Soaring doesn't require any work . . . but anyhow. Tangent.)

And so Dan and I got to Boston Tuesday afternoon and I've been sort of wondering if I should get that tattoo now that I'm here. To remind myself to work hard at the two most important things to me right now: school, to really give my all to the program I'm been waiting for years to get to; and my relationships with other people, to really hold on to the people I love and adore and to ensure they want to hold on to me too. If you can't imagine your life without someone . . . then you probably just shouldn't live without them. Seems simple enough.

Right now I only get the Internet on the balconey of our second-floor flat or at the kitchen window. I've got wireless and I'm skimming it off someone nearby (thank you, Apple Network ea3e2b) but it's still sketchy. But remarkably, I found a way to give in and join the facebook in the online time I have. And I found time to update this. Go me.

I don't have a lot else to do. I started work today at an all-natural/organic restaurant across the street, and at least it pays pretty well. But school doesn't start for another two weeks or so and Dan is gone. (Insert a little picture of me sad and bored right here.)

The highlight to life on this street is the late-night Cambridge cycling cult. Ask me about them sometime. It's entertaining. I think they're harmless.

And let's not forget Goodwill, which is so amusing it's hard to get in words.

So I'm ok for right now . . . I try not to think too much about how far away everybody I love is. If I do, it starts hurting. Once school gets started and once I earn a paycheck or two and can fly home, things will be better, I'm sure of it. Remember I said I'd be counting down the days until I could fly back to Texas? It's true.

Send me encouragement if you want, and more importantly, be sure to make fun of me on the facebook because I broke down and joined.

(PS: Let's just damn it all and get two kittens at once. Who could choose between Cavanaugh and Poughkeepsie?)

What To Do With Noel

I'm down to a little less than two more weeks of mostly-permanent residence in Texas, and this weekend I read a "thank you for everything" e-mail sent by a guy who was thanking everyone he'd ever met for being in his life as he left his internship. He started off the e-mail with two verses of that song about leaving on a jet plane (I think that was the song, anyhow), and it sort of made me relieved because his favorite music is from musicals (yeah, like Oklahoma! and Phantom of the Opera) and at least he didn't quote any of that nonsense. It would have been too much.

And then I got to thinking, well, hell, I'll be saying good-bye to people soon myself.

But then I realized it would all be bullshit.

Because Fort Worth is home now and Boston will just be a place I'm doing my schoolwork so I can come home to Texas and play. I'll say bye to people, sure, but it will mean "see you later" rather than "I'll never see you again." As soon as I get up there I'll be counting the days until I can come home to everyone. And I'm going to try my damn best to land an internship here next summer.

There's only one problem: I can't take Noel with me to Boston. I drove him cross country once and he suffered what I am pretty sure was a stroke. One side of his body was all limp and he swum in little lopsided circles for about three weeks. And he didn't eat for two. So if anyone would like to fish-sit for me while I'm away, let me know. I like to think he'd be as happy to have me come home as my sister and all my friends and Topper, but I doubt he'd notice one way or another. And I'm cool with that.

Here and There

It's fricking hot in Texas during the summer. That's what I've learned so far, staying here in Fort Worth. I spend my days inside hiding in the air conditioning and the evenings out at the barn riding until both Topper and I are grimy with sweat (it doesn't take long). It's kinda gross, and getting into my car is like climbing into an oven if it's been sitting in the sun. It's worth it, though: my car takes me to work, takes me to the barn, takes me to Austin for weekends with Dan.

It's hot and it's boring. I go down to Austin as frequently as possible because even if I don't do anything, at least I'm doing nothing with someone, and there's a lot to be said for having someone around all the time. I never feel better than when I know I have someone to do things with and to do things for. My sister is still here, but she's got a hectic work and social life, and my friends are equally busy, so if I'm in Fort Worth I'm generally bored in that air conditioning, hiding from the humidity and sun.

I think Noel misses being in the newsroom. I know I do. Even though I spent most of the semester stressed and sick, I miss it because it was fun. Speaking of sick, I think I finally got all the mono side effects kicked, thanks to a specialist and a heavy-duty regimen of drugs. I'm going into my third week of being not on drugs and still no sore throat again — woohoo!

On the other hand, I'm suspicious that something else is going on and the radiologist today didn't take me seriously. I found a mysterious lump the day after the Fourth, when I was down in Austin, and it's bruised and sore, and I went to my doctor last week and she set me up for an ultrasound because she didn't know what it was. After spending all weekend worrying and working myself into a near anxiety attack about what it could be, the radiologist today told me he didn't know what it was either but I should just tell my doctor if it changes. So he was useless. But the aching is worse and spreading rapidly, so I guess I'll call Dr. Inman again tomorrow. At least she takes me seriously.

I downloaded the song "Coke" by Flickerstick from Loren last night. That song is my fav by them, and rocks my face off so many ways. It's great. Being able to download songs from him is like being able to sit in a music store and pick and choose . . . it's great. He's got an outstanding collection. Kudos to people with good music taste.

Instead of spending money buying new books this summer (when I could be spending that money on Mexican food down in Austin, yum), I've been reading all the books my sister has. She has an eclectic little collection going there. Lots of Chuck Palahniuk, or however you spell it, and slightly twisted novels. Right now I'm reading Violin by Anne Rice, and I'd forgotten how damn dense her prose is. Good grief. Newspaper work has left me with no patience for her heavy words that could be cut down neatly with a good red pen.

I just realized that me complaining about someone being too wordy must be awfully hypocritical. My apologies. I know I'm long-winded myself.

But at least I don't use exclamation points everywhere like she does. So there.

I'm still getting my editing kicks for the summer by reading daily articles about the Tour de France. Lance is SO hot. It's amazing. How badass would it be if he did run for Texas governor someday?

I'd vote for that in a heartbeat.

Summer Sliding In

It's been two months since I posted, I realized the other day, but I have a good excuse for missing each month. First, the bridging of April and May . . . final weeks at the paper, last days of classes, exams, and fighting a bad case of not-caring, when all I wanted to do was rent movies, drink Slurpees, go riding, forget the fact that things would be changing.

And then May into June . . . I had no real Internet service. Or, at least, I was intruding on someone else's life and apartment (even more than usual) for three weeks and just couldn't bring myself to check e-mails or anything else. My new job, nannying for the "heathen child" Corban, occupied my time, along with trying to keep up with life. I graduated from Texas Christian University. I'll be going to Boston in the fall. It's too hot to ride Topper with any degree of comfort unless it's ass-early or hella-late. There were parties to be had, drunken proclamations to hear, and relaxing to do after the semester.

So now I'm in mid-June and in a house near TCU, living with my sister and two others until the end of the summer. I'm still nannying Corban, riding Topper, and missing the newsroom. My evenings are long and boring. Phone calls are about the only exciting thing right now, barring the sometimes-scary drive to and from Austin every few weeks.

I will have a four month summer, from class end to class start, and already a month of it is gone. What did I do? The funny thing is, I basically did nothing, but at the same time, I could freeze it and replay it because it was just-right.

I've never been in Fort Worth/Dallas over the summer. I think I'm going to melt. Already I'm wimping out from the heat.

Keep me cool. Keep me calm. Keep that frozen time and this freezing period of just-right forever, no matter how strong the heat gets.

Tears Me Inside Out

"There's something about you
Tears me inside out whenever you're around
There's something about you
Speeding through my veins until we hit the ground
And there's something about this rush
Take it away
It made me feel so good . . . "

(New Radicals)

I know this is at least the second time I've quoted this song in here. It's great. It's called "Mother we just can't get enough" and every time I hear it I get this whooshing feeling in my chest. It's awesome.

Spring is about good music. Actually, scratch that . . . all year should be about good music. Speaking of good music, Adam alerted me that new Oasis is out there. Thank goodness someone is more dedicated at keeping up with the band. I'm a horrible fan. Just in general, I suck at memorizing facts and remembering things and knowing the news.

The clock finally clicked the end of perhaps one of the longest weeks ever. I don't know how else to put it. I have a long and bitter anthem for everyone to hear about. But there were some really really good parts, like seeing people do even better than you expect them to, winning at poker, finding breakfast in downtown Dallas at 2 a.m. even though things are worrisome, getting really dressed up and then buying more gym shorts.

When I was packing to go to TIPA I found two spanking-new pens in my backpack. They're so pretty black and smooth. I really do have an addiction to office supplies, but it's not a problem. Counselors are for wimps.

I just almost bought a Polaroid camera online. I told Dan about my plans a few weeks ago. I'd like to have one, take random pictures of people when they're not looking and then walk over and hand the picture to them. I don't think most people realize how perfect they are most of the time. I'd like to write something on the back, but I don't know what.

Just spend a second or two looking at someone who's not looking at you. How perfect.

"And there's something about you
That makes me fly
You're a heart attack
Just the kind I like"

Won't Get Fooled Again

It's disconcerting that I was thinking of Mitch Hedberg with my last post and today found out he's (allegedly) dead of a heart attack. I'm afraid to wonder about other comedians now, because what if they keel over as well? Last thing I want is for the Executive Transvestite bunch to lose their leading member as Eddie Izzard gets beaten by the Queen with a brick in her handbag. If this is a ruse, I'm gonna be mad. But happy. For now I'll be mad and sad.

Speaking of sad . . . it's sad that this whole Terry Schiavo thing is going on. The entire situation is just revolting. I was flipping through channels and it's on the news, on documentaries already, whatever. But if I'm ever stuck in a bed and can't talk to people and can't read and can't get outside and can't see the wonders of my world and can't do things to make people happy and can't be productive . . . don't just remove the feeding tube, and I don't care what the neurological exams show, just give me a lethal amount of morphine and let me float away, tripped out of my mind.

What a way to go. It will make up for all the times I said no to drugs.

I feel like I'm on a drug trip sometimes, still . . . I got the weirdest feeling of deja vu this week when I was in the newsroom until I realized duh, I have been here before, I have done this before, this is stupid. Isn't that absurd that the brain would let you experience deja vu about something you do all the time?

This show about Schiavo is showing a preacher with a megaphone talking to a crowd of picketers. (I'm against picketing, but I don't know how to show it.) I would love to get a megaphone and sit somewhere and just start rambling. Sometimes it takes a while to get me to talk. Sometimes I just ramble and can't help it. But I would sit with my megaphone and spew the most original sentences I can think of, that's all. It would probably be nonsense. But it could be beautiful (or damn ugly). If somebody were to ask me to just talk in original sentences, I would. I would give them all the words they ever wanted. (And afterward, would they want to talk to me ever again?)

I would like someone to read the lyrics from Blue Eyes by the Cary Brothers from the Garden State Soundtrack and think of me. Wouldn't that be nice? But only the good lyrics, not the lines I don't like. If someone did that, paid attention to only the good lyrics, that wouldn't be nice . . . that would be badass. Because it even mentions me rambling with my megaphone all those sentences pent up somewhere.

. . . I just wanna sing a song with you
I just want to take it off of you
Cause Blue Eyes
You are all that I need
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the sweet to my mean
Fess it up, dot on the palm of your hand
I can help you to stand
Saved it up for this dance
Tell me all the things you can . . .
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes
All the lights on and you are alive
But you can't point the way to your heart
So sublime, when the stars are aligned
But you don't know
You don't know the greatness you are . . .
I just wanna sing a song with you
I just wanna get it on with you
Cause Blue Eyes
You’re the secret I keep
Cause Blue Eyes
I just wanna sing a song with you…

Will You Need Binoculars?

If I stand on the south side of the Charles River in Boston and throw up double middle fingers to the north side, do you think they'll be able to see me?

Because I'd sure love to tell the people at MIT how I feel about them turning me down while Boston U said hell yes, come be a grad student with us. We'll even consider giving you a scholarship to come over here and thumb your nose at Tech students.

And then don't forget the waitlist of Johns Hopkins.

Can I just say I'm bowled over? I fluctuated between being sure I'd get in to all 3 and thinking good grief, they'd be nuts to let me into any of those. Who would want me infesting the campus?

But now they're saying it's ok, like a koala infestation. The cutest infestation ever. Mitch Hedberg can come pat me on the head.

And now I feel even more bone-weary than before. Now that all the anticipation is gone, nothing is left but hard decisions and paperwork. I just want to sleep. (I haven't sleep for 10 days, cos that would be too long.)

This is Liz all-together . . .

I really don't feel all-together right now. But that's ok. Things will fall into place. I'm gonna go listen to a comedy CD, perhaps, so I quit quoting it, and get to the Sleater-Kinney that Claunch gave me. Mmm.

Now what?

All Things Have Risen

I honestly don't care enough is "risen" is grammatically correct (sorry Horvit, you'll never brainwash me into being a complete copyeditor). But things go up, slowly, surely, even when it seems like nothing ever will.

This is the first Easter Sunday I've ever spent in Fort Worth. It's funny how you can remember where you were back through the years . . . freshman year, out in the country of Texas, somewhere by the Brazos, I think. Sophomore year, in London, at Westminster Cathedral and then spending the afternoon in the bar of the Texas Embassy restaurant, where a friend was working all day. Last year, in San Antonio, with Maureen and her family. This year, my sister and I, 7 a.m. Mass and then a big dinner later on.

Faith is delicate. My faith in God has never faltered, not once in my life that I remember. My faith in my family never has either. But my faith in other people and institutions has been rocked, lately. Today I reminded myself that it's called faith for a reason . . . you've got to work at it. Keep reminding yourself you're doing the right thing. Keep reminding yourself that people are good and you should trust them. Keep reminding. Tie a string around your finger, tattoo it on your skin, and remember.

I will tattoo it on my body someday, where I can carry a constant reminder.

And also, a documentary (I love them, I am a dork and if you don't like them, you are a fool and not the cool way, either) just got finished and there were definitely puffins in it. Those little birds are definitely as cool as penguins and deserve equal notoreity (and that's from the root notorious, which is a BAD word, but I don't care, puffins are badasses).

Remember.

A Long Report Of Telemarketers & Other Misc. Things

I realize it's been a while since the last entry, and guess it's because things keep falling apart and I feel like I'm constantly trying to fit little bits of my life back together. And it's not just my life, either. More than ever I'm discovering that your life can never be as simple as you want, and there are countless people woven into your life who feel the impact of every little thing you're party to.

What's new? Our journalism department is now the Schieffer School of Journalism, which is pretty cool. Gives me something spiffy to put on my resume. Lots of big names came, and I still like to tell people about how Bob Woodward was in my newsroom and shook my hand. He's a badass.

Spring break came, along with me not feeling so hot. I'd spent a few weeks studiously ignoring the painful lymph nodes "the size of cats" (says Jason) until my throat hurt, and when I finally made it to the doctor the verdict was strep, a tonsil infection and mono. Took enough drugs to kill everything and knock me out, and found that while a nice warm fuzzy feeling ensues after taking that many meds, it still has its down.

So most of break was spent unconscious, but the people who kept me company and listened to my ramblings rock my world about 19 different ways. The mono is a pretty severe case, and if you're sick the only thing you want is a little sympathy. My parents, my sister, Jason, Maureen, Emily, Stephen, Claunch, Loren, my darling editors and everyone from the newsroom . . . yeah, I owe these people a lot.

And to those people who give you grief when you don't feel well . . . you suck at life. (Yeah, especially you telemarketers who call my dorm at 9 a.m. when I'm asleep enough to actually answer.)

In other news . . . Easter is coming and Lent will be over soon, meaning I can drink again. It wasn't that big a deal not to drink, but good grief, if ever there were a time period where I would need a margarita or two, it's been this Lent. The Society of Professional Journalists had a code of ethics that calls on everyone to be accountable, be honest, minimize harm, stuff like that . . . good stuff, yah?

It's called being a decent human being, in my book, and I try . . . I've been trying for a few weeks now to be completely honest about things in an attempt to minimize harm to others (remember what I said about everybody's life getting woven into yours?). It seems no matter how hard I try, I always end up getting people pissed off. Do I suck at trying to be good or what?

Sometimes there are instances where you walk into something knowing you're going to hurt someone . . . wow. I wanted to be a doctor when I got to university. I still consider it sometimes. But then I'm not sure I could walk into something where I know I'm bearing bad news sometimes. How do you let a family know their son just died? How do you let someone know that things will never be the same? How do you tell someone that everything they think is different now?

I can't do that. I've done it a few times because I was doing what I felt was the best thing, but that doesn't help a lot. It doesn't help when you know you're doing it for the right reason or you're trying your best, if someone gets hurt, then it's your fault.

Hmm. I've forgotten where I was going with all that. So in conclusion, I'm sick, and will be for a while, but that's cool, at least I'm not contagious. If people give me grief for falling asleep all the time, I have a legit excuse now.

In addition to not infecting people, I'm still trying my best as far as a code of ethics. If you don't want to be a decent human being, then you suck at life.

A telemarketer just called. It's nearly 9 p.m. She was nice and asked if I was interested, I told her I wasn't, thanks very much, but have a good night. She said, you too, thanks, bye, and that was it.

There is good out there.

To Sleep, Ah, Perchance To Dream . . .

After almost an entire week of sleeping badly, I've now had some days of decent sleep. Things at work have been good, especially since bridges seem to be mended between my friend and me. Both of us had been very, very hurt by various things, but I think we both learned a lesson. I know what I've found, at any rate.

Sometimes you run across those people you feel you've known forever. They're so rare, but when you find them, you can slip along with them like a habit. It's so easy to slide into everything that you forget that you haven't known this person forever and you don't know everything about them. And a person's most vulnerable parts are the things you always see last, so you end up wounding someone without even realizing it.

But if you know one of these people and you fall besides each other like that, then it also means you're supposed to get over any problems and get back into the good stuff. Because that's all anyone wants--the good stuff. As long as you always remember the good stuff, you can get on with the bad stuff.

Asides from that, I don't know too much of what to say. Spring is making a tentative entrance in Texas, and the daffodils all bloomed on Monday, which is good, because I needed to be reassured that things can still be simple and happy. Now I'm fully convinced again.

If it weren't for the growing pile of laundry and the fact I just can't stay on Topper long enough to get my back fixed again, life would be perfect right now.

The laundry can be fixed, and Topper I can live with and love because the whole thing is part of me.

For copyediting, we were supposed to find an example of good writing. It could be anything. This is one of my favorites because I think it relates to any type of love, with friends, lovers, family, anything. Does anybody else think this is a great simile?

"Falling in love is like owning a dog: an epithalamion"
by Taylor Mali

Falling in love is like owning a dog.
First of all, it's a big responsibility,
especially in a city like New York.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
When you're walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain't no one gonna mess with you.
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies next to you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.

Love doesn't like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Sometimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you just want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know Don't you ever do that again!

Sometimes love just wants to go for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise!
It runs you around the block and leaves you breathless.
It pulls you in several different directions at once,
or winds around and around you
until you're all wound up and can't move.

But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.

Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, and lots of it.
And, in return, love loves you and never stops.

Choking

So I guess the funk from the weekend never really disappeared, seeing as how it's Thursday night and I'm still chewing over things. I've got enough to chew over that I feel like I'm choking and the whole thing makes me vaguely sick to my stomach. I may be thinking too much, but then, I don't know. I'm pretty sure things need a lot of thought right now.

I got in a huge fight with a friend and coworker Tuesday. This person is a friend first, but it was a coworker fight, if that makes any sense. Unfortunately, neither of us kept personal problems out of the fight, so it escalated into an all-out dirty fight. We probably know each other too well. I'm certain that this aftermath hurts so badly because we were (are?) such close friends.

Work will go on, but right now I'm hanging in limbo personally. The other person said they didn't want to talk to me at all as of Tuesday night, but I don't know if that still applies. I'm terrified of saying anything for fear of making things worse. But how can I make things better without saying anything? Because this is not working, being without each other. It sucks in the worst possible fashion, and I know I don't want things to stay like this.

I got accused of being insensitive and generally bitchy. This was the other person's problem with me personally and professionally, from what I can gather. I just can't quite wrap my head around all of it, though. There were no real problems till last week, when I must've morphed into an infuriating person. So I can't be all insensitive and all bitchy, otherwise I'm pretty sure that would've gotten in the way of us being such close friends to begin with.

But I know that it's probably true at some level. My problem is that I've mistaken always telling the truth with always saying what pops to mind. The little self-censoring section of my brain just sort of disappears when I've known a person after a certain period of time. I get to the point where I can figure I can say absolutely anything and it'll be ok because it's just a friend.

And now I know that's not the case, I should still watch myself. This is my public admittance. Isn't it Alchoholics Anonymous that say admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery? This is the best first step I can take, since I can't apologize to my friend any more since, as far as I know, they still don't want to talk to me. If they've changed their mind, I have no way of knowing that. I can only hope that one run of me behaving badly without realizing it won't ruin anything permanently.

Also, I'm still learning what pisses this person off. I'm still learning with everyone. Every once in a while something totally unexpected I do or say makes my parents mad, or my friend of several years. I can't take back anything I've said, since I didn't mean it and didn't intend it as harmful to begin with. But I've been trying so hard to learn for a while now and just unfortunately made all my mistakes in one row. I definitely learned from the mistakes, no worries there--but I just hope the other person lets me prove it.

I am not all a problem, and not everything I do is a problem, but I am THE problem right now, it seems.

Some other random musings on the subject . . .

It's only the people who know you the best and are the closest to you who can hurt you the worst. And if two people really are that close, it's certain each is equally miserable over problems. It's nice when friends spill over to work, but it sucks when problems from either spill into the other. Can you ever keep them apart, I wonder?

I don't want this to end . . . but does someone else feel my unintentional mistakes are serious enough to warrant killing off such a great, reassuring, confiding, comfortable, entertaining relationship that really and honestly works?

Golden

Updating this thing has been sporadic lately, I know. Apologies to those who find a weird satisfaction from knowing what I think. There's probably a good number of you that hear everything from me directly anyway.

Now that we're a month into the semester (it seems so much longer) I think I've found my routine. Homework gets done in the middle of the day, I'm usually awake for classes, and work is the same. Almost everybody I need to talk to or want to see is at work, so I don't feel too badly about getting out so late and usually getting to sleep soon after that.

I just got back from the barn and riding Topper. It wasn't a very exciting ride--but it was the first time in more than two weeks, I think. He hurt his legs, then it was raining, then I got sick, and it was just one thing after another. So today we go out and spend about 20 min or so just sort of stretching out . . . it felt so nice! I missed my saddle so much. And it just feels so right to ride.

Plus, it was effing beautiful outside today. Texas in the spring really is something to see. Especially when it seems like it's been constantly raining lately.

Being outside made me feel better about myself today. I woke up in a funk . . . just one of those restless, disjoined states where I question everything I want to take for granted and wonder if I'm doing the right things. That's part of the reason why I love the week so much--I'm too busy to question myself. I know everything is ok and I'm fine, but I can't help it, every once in a while I just start thinking too much about things that should be simple.

The other day on the radio I heard the song "Golden" by Jill Scott. That song is awesome. It's been running through my head since then, and I really can't complain.

I'm taking my freedom, pulling it off the shelf, putting it on my chain, wearing it round my neck
I'm taking my freedom, putting it in my car, wherever I chose to go, it will take me far
I'm taking my own freedom, putting it in my song, singing loud and strong, groovin' all day long
I'm taking my freedom, putting it in my stroll, I be high steppin ya'll, letting the joy unfold
I'm holding on my freedom, can't take it from me, I was born into it, it comes naturally
I'm strumming my own freedom, praying to God in me, representing his glory, hope he's proud of me.

Living my life like it's golden, living my life like it's golden, living my life like it's golden
Living my life like it's golden, golden