Perfect Storm

Knee deep in irony for the open bar gala held in remembrance of a person killed by a drunk driver and with no acknowledgement to the guests about making sure they made responsible arrangements if they were going to attempt to get their money's worth from the open bar, I had such a kick ass time. It was the perfect storm of people I didn't know, empty stomach and alcohol. The people I did know I didn't know enough to care what they thought so I just had a good time. I danced until my hair was wet. It was so awesome. No one pressuring me, no one checking in to see if I was having fun, no one insisting I do anything. I just enjoyed dancing because I like dancing and I was pretty pickled in appletinis. It was great. I'm trying to get through my second bottle of water before sleeping...such a great night.

Strangers with candy

Stranger=bad
Hot Stranger=hmmm....

I love men. So I'm back out there again, casting a line in the pool of internet dating. I had one picture up for 2 days. Nice enough picture, always witty and insightful profile. I decide to conduct an experiment. I put a photo up of me sleeping-not really sleeping, just a photo I took when I wondered what I looked like with my eyes closed. 30 seconds later, some 25 year old guy messages me. A hoot I tell you. He asked me to write his profile. Then he started flirting with me. I gave him a bit of a hard time. Too, too young. He's just a baby. My sister should be dating him. But if one is to believe what he told me, he just moved here from Cali (he gets the crappy timing award and the who the f moves from California to the east coast in the winter award). So he's bored and doesn't have any friends. Then some random guy from New York messages me. His profile is annoying and full of complaints about the behavior of other women on-line who 'don't really want a good man' so I told him distance was a deal breaker (it is). Still, I love how my little experiment returned immediate results. Men respond to the intimacy of that picture. The 25 year old asked me to tell him the craziest thing I had ever done. I told him that it was entertaining a conversation with him. He persisted. Then I told him it was taking fingerprints off a dead man. He was clearly looking for a sexy crazy so I had a lot of much fun messing with him. After dead men I told him I had flown a plane (true story). Then he asked for embarrassing and I told him about my dance with salmonella. I thought I had cooled his enthusiasm but he said he wanted to meet me. Ha. No f-ing way.

I often wish I didn't, but I do love men.

She's just so awesome

I like Angela so so much. Read her newest post here.

Or read it here

Sometimes, even with their famous kindness here, it feels a little like they have stripped us naked and thrown us out into the blizzard with a pair of tap shoes, saying, "Dazzle us. We know you can." I sat down to class yesterday, next to the other student who has the same fellowship as me, and he said, "They told me they expect more. More from us. There are expectations," and the anxiety billowed off him like storm clouds on a mountaintop. "Fuck that," I said, and we laughed, because how else can you respond to such expectations and live? This is all I've got. I'm giving you all I've got. But I walked home from class talking to myself and swearing into my scarf and the wind all the way back after a teacher's biting comments to me.

Some days, I feel like all my interactions here are with people needing propping. We all need to see that kind face and those scrunched eyebrows looking back at us and saying, "I know, I know, IknowIknowIknowIknow." There is so much fear of failure. We're writers. Of course there is.

"I feel like a seventeen-year-old asking this," says a fierce and brave man in class, "but is it even possible to write and be happy?" The room is silent because we are all afraid of the answer, and later I lie on the hardwood floor of my office crying, because no one tells you how to jump into those dark pools and not drown, they only tell you to dive deep and bring up treasure.

"Fuck it," being my favourite phrase of late. Fuck it. Fuck it. I think Jesus understands.
I will not can not should not shall not play that game. Fuck it. And my mouth tastes like happiness as I say it.

Insecurity; driving achievement since 0 B.C.

I was all set to write this morning how insecurity is the least useful human condition. How self-limiting and self-fulfilling it is, how annoying it is to the people who love you. But then I thought of how many people I know or am aware of who spend their entire lives trying to achieve their way out of their insecurities. Sublimating insecurity with achievement generally proves unsuccessful at addressing the actual issues, but the world is often better, or sometimes terribly worse (Hitler, anyone?) for it.

Grateful

There I was, thinking if the one person I know in Philadelphia is busy I don't have anyone to hang out with. I was trying to remember a time when I only knew one person to hang out with and resolved to somehow build a deeper bench. Then I finally decided to get my rear in gear and get some errands run. I was out 5 minutes when I got a call from my friend in D.C. telling me to come back because she was at my front door. Then they did a double surprise by having one of them hide and knock on the door 2 minutes after I found the first one at my door.

My girlfriends drove up from D.C. today and surprised me.

It's not my birthday, I'm not having any personal or professional crisis, they just came up for the day to see me. I love surprises. This is probably the best one I've ever had. We've had great fun eating and talking our way through the day, commiserating, counseling, laughing our asses off. It's not a small thing they did. The trouble they went through to come here makes me feel special.

I'm grateful.

So Far

I have watched cartoons, drank coffee, and thought a lot about leaving Philly. I get so tired of life, the routine of walking the dog around the same streets, of grocery shopping, of having the same clothes to wear, of shouldering the same struggles at work, at home, in life. As I was thinking on these things and walking the dog last night, I considered my wanderlust in terms of simply seeking different scenery to do the same old thing. Location is important and does impact lifestyle but the fundamentals don't really change. I literally live three steps from a gym and don't go. I live minutes away from a theater and haven't seen one play. I think this weekend I will do what many women do when they need to shake things up. Get a new haircut. I don't know why that makes everything seem new and possible but it does. So I need to get out of my robe, take the dog for a walk and find a Hair Cuttery or something.

In other news, I have been waking up early for about 2 months now. I'm at the point now where I manage to waste enough time to negate the benefits of being up early. The only thing I consistently manage to accomplish with the found time is making and consuming coffee. Which is awesome because I arrive at work fully caffeinated but it's not the boon it was when I first started rising early. I do this with the help of my wake-up buddy which if you have trouble getting up, I highly recommend. I'll probably dedicate an entire post to extolling the benefits of a wake-up buddy but for now, it's time to hit the streets for the a.m. poop scavenger hunt. She's lucky she's so cute.

Warming up

Need to write so apologize in advance for what I think will be a rather disjointed post.

I still can't listen to Crowded House, Don't Dream It's Over because it reminds me of IBC. It's possible he liked me after all but I was too much of a freak to allow it to happen. I don't have any illusions that I missed out on someone that could have been a long term relationship but I still think he's a swell guy. The nicest guy I've met in a long time and someone who liked smart women. A guy who was intimidated when I smoked him (and all the other men) on the shooting range but also bragged about me all day and greatly embellished my skills and performance for comedic effect. He's been dating someone for over a year now and our communication has dropped steeply off. But I wrote him today and then day dreamt about him for the rest of the day. One day I hope to find out if I was right about how he felt and apologize for being such a tool.

Magnifying mirrors are manufactured in hell. No one should ever look in them. It completely distorts your world view.

I don't understand this notion of athletes and other public figures apologizing to their family in a press release or apologizing to parents and others who considered him a role model. Need to search closer to home for your role models, mom and dad. Tiger doesn't owe you an apology.

Had repeated waking dreams of choking out whiny-ass co-worker.