Livin' The Dream (One Loser At A Time)

Not The Reaction You Want From A Medical Expert

2009-07-09T08:34:00.002-04:00

After about two and a half weeks of my throat hurting on and off, I went to the doctor. I'd thought it was allergies, but then I noticed a few days ago that my gland on the side where my throat hurt had started to swell. That doesn't happen with allergies.

The office called me in early yesterday. I'd had an appointment for 1PM, but the doctor came in early in the morning so they told me to come right over. The office is less than five minutes away by car, so I put on some clothes, threw my hair into a hasty bun, and flew over. Then I waited in the waiting room for at least a half an hour. I met one of my parents' friends there, so we talked, and then when he went in, I read through a magazine for women in their 40s and 50s.

Sidenote: I'm now noticing that I got a splotch of self tanner on my hand between my thumb and pointer and it's annoying the crap out of me. That's not going to fade any time soon.

So back to the doctor. I went in. I waited in the exam room for another fifteen to twenty minutes. This whole time I could've been reading, but since I'd run out of the house, I didn't bring my book. Finally, he came in. I told him what the problem was. He looked into my mouth with his little light.

He said, Whoa.

That's never a good way to start off a diagnosis.

He asked if I have a problem swallowing. I said that it hurts when I swallow but I don't have a problem with it.

Then he proceeds to tell me that my gland is so swollen that it is pushing my tonsil out into my throat. Then he used a word that sounded like peritonsilitis. Then he asked again if I had a problem swallowing. I said no. He said that people come into the office drooling because they can't swallow from what I have. I'm just now realizing how dirty this conversation sounds.

So he gave me a whopping dosage of antibiotic. He said that he's giving me a higher dose than he usually gives for a sore throat because my gland is really swollen. I think he really enjoyed my medical rarity. He said that if I get sick from the meds, I can start to back off after a few days and lower the dosage, but if I'm okay with it, he'd like me to finish it out at full dosage, again because my gland is humongous.

No, no. Stop it. You cannot be me. I know, I know. It's so very sexy. Don't be jealous. If I knew how I got it, I'd let you know. For now, let's just bask in the wonderment of a gland so big it pushes out a tonsil.

I'll Call You Monday Does Not Mean He'll Call On Tuesday Either

2009-07-08T09:20:00.003-04:00

Yeah, that's right. Craigslist did not call me on Tuesday either. Even if something came up on Monday where he couldn't get to his phone, he could have called me on Tuesday to at least let me know what happened.

Now there's really no excuse. There's flakey and then there's inconsiderate. This is way inconsiderate.

At the risk of sounding like a crazy person, I called him last night. I did not yell or curse or rant. I left him a message (because he NEVER picks up his phone). I started out by saying I hope he's okay. Then I said I've been pretty patient with all the stuff he's got going on and at this point, I'm not sure if he's lying about all of it or if it's the truth, and I don't want to think that he's lying. I said I hope life starts to get easier for him soon, and once things are finally settled, if he's still interested, he can give me a call. Then I said if he's not interested and hasn't been, I wish he'd have sacked up and told me sooner. I wished him all the best, said I didn't really expect to hear from him, and said take care.

Need I say it again? I suppose I should. You can say it with me. One more time with feeling: Square. One.

Little Graduation

2009-07-08T09:15:00.002-04:00

The yoga studio I used to work for had a teacher training program. I'd gone two or three times to help teach the teachers how to teach. Last week, the owner invited me to the graduation ceremony. I was iffy about going, but figured it was something different to do and I'd get to see some of the instructors I hadn't seen.

I had a good time. Not only was the food amazingly good, the ceremony was quick and cute. The owner was so proud to have two graduates trained and ready to teach. The graduates were so proud and happy to have completed the program. He and they thanked each of us for helping out.

I also got to see his wife who used to come to all of my classes at the old studio before the business moved across the street. Then I met the husband of one of the new teachers. He's the headmaster of a boys' school. We got into a conversation about scattershot proofing (the ability to look at a page and see grammatical and punctuation errors without actually reading the text). He asked if I was interested in doing revision work. I was like, what kind of work? He needs someone to proof papers and make comments in a new type of writing program. Hmm. That's all I do anyway. So I gave him my info and he said he'd certainly be in touch. He was like, I happy I came because I'm networking. So I said, Well that's what yoga does; it brings people together.

Free Movie Tuesday Turns Into Not Free Margaritas

2009-07-08T09:08:00.003-04:00

I won't mention the torrential downpour that occured a few minutes before I left the house yesterday. Instead, I'll complain about how the 5:00 showing of Taking of Pelham was sold out at 4:20 by the time I got to the theatre after having parked three and a half blocks away and how I was one big ball of humid sweat by the time I walked back to the car under the blaring sun that came out as soon as I left the theatre to go back to my car.

I got Grotter on the phone, whom I'd invited to go a few minutes before I'd left. I was like, Where are you? They sold out? She told me and I totally misheard where she said so I was trying to explain where there was a Starbucks by her when really, it was nowhere near where she was. When I finally understood where she was, I was like, Screw the coffee! We're getting drinks!

We went to Chilis. We got two-fer margaritas. Then, because we were drinking two drinks each (one of which I sloshed down in maybe three minutes), we got food, which was not easy because we hadn't planned to eat out so we didn't know what we wanted. If you'd seen me, you would've thought I'd never read a menu before. Then KDP swung by after work. So instead of watching The Taking Of Pelham for free, we got drunk and ate tex-mex for not free.

How To Give Back

2009-07-08T09:01:00.003-04:00

I am obsessed with shows about recovering addicts. I love Intervention. I love Celebrity Rehab and Sober House. Even before all those shows, however, I wanted to somehow work with addicts in recovery. I am not a therapist, though, and since I've never abused or had chemical dependencies, I wasn't sure how I could help.

Recently, I decided that if I could find a center that was close, I could possibly teach yoga. I sent out a few letters. Then it happened rather quickly. Someone called. I called back. I started on Monday.

The center where I volunteer is for addicts as well as people with eating disorders and people with mental illnesses. They are all together during exercise time. That means that I'm working with all kinds of people, not just the population I've wanted to work with. The woman in charge explained that everyone there is on an outpatient program and anyone who needs meds is on meds.

At my first session, I walked in and felt completely comfortable. All kinds of people were around. They were all very nice and very outgoing and friendly towards me. When we got into the room to do the yoga, I told everyone to relax, so one guy flopped himself on his back on the floor and was like, Is this okay? I shrugged and said, You may want to sit up. He did.

I am thankful for my time at Briarcliffe. I spent around six years under great stress and aggravation there. However, I learned how to deal with all kinds of people. If not for Briar, I don't think I would have felt so much at home at the counseling center.

What I'll Call You On Monday Means

2009-07-08T08:58:00.005-04:00

No, Craigslist did not call me on Monday. I don't know why I thought he would. He said that he would, sure, but I don't know why I believed it. I texted him around 4 saying, I haven't heard from you so I guess you're busy at work or forgot to call or left your phone in Idaho or lost your charger in a fire or you're walking down Ocean Parkway.

My text humor did not nudge him to text me back. He did not call, either.

At around 7, I called him. It went to voicemail. I left a message wondering if I'd gotten it wrong the day before because I thought he was going to call, and that I was trying to make plans and didn't want to ditch out on him if we did have plans and that I was going to head out soon but my cell would be on if he wanted to call.

I went out to Main Event to meet up with BlondeBombshell. I'd asked Grotter if she had anything going on and she said to come out for coffee because she was meeting KDP. I was like, I need something stronger so come to the bar afterwards.

He didn't call. He didn't text. Now that's simply rude and inconsiderate. There's really no excuse.

What In A Little Bit Means

2009-07-08T08:50:00.003-04:00

In a little bit means at least three days. I heard from Craigslist late on Sunday afternoon. I was lounging on my couch, finally getting some rest from having downed the bottle of wine and then the glass of red I'd had at the rectory (doesn't that word seem way too dirty to be associated with religion?).

The first few minutes of the conversation were him apologizing about how he should have called sooner and even after that text he should have and family things came up and then he had the 4th and then was in bed by 10 the night before. I asked what he did on the 4th and he said he met his housemates on their boat but since he went to meet them later on, he had to park his car in one place and walk about a mile down Ocean Parkway to get to them. I laughed at him and he was like, Yeah I'm a big loser. So I said he should've called me because we had a great time. He agreed he should have.

Then I said, It seems that nothing in your life is easy these days. He said, You know what, Christina, you are absolutely right! He said that the past two years have been hectic but he's doing what he needs to do. I said that sometimes life is like that.

Then he asked about what I've been up to. That's a reason I like him. Every time he calls, he asks about me and what I've been doing. When I finish, he asks again, so what else have you been doing? Anything? He just seemed interested. Then he asked if this week I was free. I said Monday or Tuesday and explained about the wedding coming up and some things that I had this week. He said he was free every night.

He was waiting for his boss to call him to say where his next worksite is. The times he'd be free depended on it. So I said it was okay if he called me Monday afternoon to say where he was and if Monday night was good for him or if Tuesday would be better. He said that he would and was looking forward to it. We hung up on a good note. I was happy that I hadn't called him once I hadn't heard from him. I would've left him a snotty message. For once, I let it be, used a lot of patience, and he called.

Still Lapsed

2009-07-08T08:42:00.002-04:00

Fun Fact: My dad has twin cousins. The male is a priest. The female is a nun.

If I were still an active Catholic, I would want my dad's cousin as my priest. We had a memorial service for my dad's aunt who passed a few months ago. She was in her 90s and lived in Florida. We couldn't make it to the funeral, so this memorial service was for those of us who didn't go to that. My dad's cousin lives in Jamaica Estates as well as D. C. The rectory is a house that priests and holy officials share that has a chapel built into it for mass. It was odd. One minute, we're in the chapel having a full-on Catholic mass complete with the Holy Spirit and partaking in the body and blood of Christ, and the next we're in the formal dining room, partaking in Triscuits and red wine from the wine glasses stocked in the cabinet.

Instead of reminding us of all our sins as many priests in my parish used to do, my dad's cousin interpreted the readings in light of family. He explained that the core of the Catholic church is that we are all brothers and sisters and should treat each other so. That's the kind of philosophy I like in a religion. If he were my priest throughout my life, I might still be with the church.

Then again, as I went through the protocol of the mass, reciting the prayers and responsorial psalms, I got a little freaked out. I remembered it all, every word, phrase, and movement, even after having been gone from those rituals. I don't like stuff like that. I took a moment to stop and listen, and I simply don't like a bunch of people reciting prayers all at once like that. For instance, there's one part of mass where the priest says to give praise and thanks to the Lord, and we all respond quickly in the same monotone voice without thinking, "It is right to give Him thanks and praise." Creepy. It seems so robotic. That's a part of organized religion I don't get. So while my dad's cousin makes a great priest, I can't lie; I still couldn't be with the church.

Happy Birthday America

2009-07-08T08:35:00.002-04:00

My July 4th consisted of Grotter, KDP, and Fred heading to my backyard for swimming and fun. I offered up my pool for entertainment. None of us went swimming. Too windy. Water too cold. Yeay! I didn't have to go in after all.

We did eat lots of fruit. Then we ate chips and guacamole. And then some potato chips and onion dip. We started out so healthy. I don't know where it started to take a turn.

Perhaps the turn came when I was halfway through my bottle of wine. Grotter and KDP were drinking Blue Eyes something or other. Betty Boop was on the bottle. I think Fred had some of that, too. I gave her the last of the rum as I finished off my wine.

Grotter told me that she's never seen me that far gone. I reminded her of several parties I've had, one that ended in my brother covered in cake and me on the front steps of my house making no sense while talking to some guy from work. She was like, oh yeah. But I was pretty far gone. I took fifteen to twenty minutes to do an impression of a student I used to have. In my defense, Fred requested it.

Then I started to feel bug bites popping up. The wind kicked up more. We headed inside where we somehow got to watching an episode of OTH so that we could share our game with the two of them. KDP played while drinking an appletini I made her (although I think she did some of the shaking) and I had a kaluha and milk. This is what happens when I don't have to drive anywhere.

The 4th ended with an explosion of fireworks for two hours on my street and the girls heading out of the house in the midst of it. I would've crashed right away, but the fireworks were so loud, so I watched the faint colors beyond the blinds and listened to the pop pop boom until there was no gun powder left to blow up.

Timeline, Then Tell Me What You Think

2009-07-03T11:56:00.005-04:00

Friday: Craigslist calls me from upstate to say he got my message, his texts aren't working, and he'll call me when he gets back after the weekend so we can go out next week.

Monday: I call Craigslist at 8-ish in the evening. I leave a message to ask how his weekend was and to see if he was up for doing something this week as he'd indicated on Friday.

Tuesday: Nothing.

Wednesday: Nothing. A day of reckoning, actually. Some crying involved followed by some ranting and raving. Not about Craigslist, but about life in general. I've got a lot of shit going on lately and too much time on my hands. Fortunately, I have amazing friends and one of them put up with my sad-sap attitude long enough to get me to line dance, which made me perk up quite a bit.

Thursday: I climbed out of my funk and had a jam-packed day of projects and chores.

Then my text message alert went off in the late afternoon. It was Craigslist--he was sorry he hadn't called; he'd left his phone upstate and got it back and would call me in a little bit.

When I had come to terms with him hating me and never speaking to me again, he texted, an indication that he does not hate me. I believe his story to a point; I couldn't figure out any reason for him to not contact me when our last contact had been to say that he was looking forward to seeing me the next week.

I am happy I have developed a calmness and a patience in instances like these. Sure, I get riled up, but only a few short years ago, I would have called and left a raving lunatic message about common courtesy and I would have cursed a lot after only a day. So here, I waited and I didn't leave a crazy message. Still, how does someone leave his cell phone upstate? I don't understand that. Also, did he not have access to a phone in the last four days? Still, he probably didn't have my number. People don't keep backups usually. However, if he'd wanted to get a hold of me, he could have. Then again, he was working and I was not his priority, as I should not be seeing as how we've gone out a total of two times.

Thursday, still. I packed it in at around midnight after getting home from seeing Sco for a bit (we were supposed to go to an art opening in the city but the rain was intermittently torrential, so we met up at a restaurant halfway between us instead). He hadn't called. I don't know what "in a little bit" means; I am sure that it does NOT mean "within eight hours."

Friday: Nothing. I still don't know what "in a little bit" means; I am sure that it does NOT mean "within twenty hours."

Yesterday, Grotter asked, When a guy tells you on Monday that he will call you very soon, what does very soon mean? My answer: anywhere between an hour and eternity. That's also, now, my translation for "in a little bit."

All I want is a guy who will call when he gives me a time frame of when he's going to call and then wants to head out with me to get some waffles. Yes, that's right, waffles. I don't think that's too much to ask.

Back In Line

2009-07-03T11:29:00.004-04:00

Jones Beach. Parking Field 4. Wednesday night. Right before 7:30. Heading towards the flag pole. Fred and I walked left. We should have gone right to find the bandshell that's kinda hard to miss when you walk three steps in that direction. In any case, we made it to line dancing. Yes, that's right, Jones Beach has free line dancing every Wednesday night during the summer. We jumped right in after checking out the gift shop (which is filled with Teen Choice Awards--that's for Fred).

The one catch was that there was no music. The woman teaching was counting off and the dance crowd grew larger and larger quickly. We learned maybe four different dances, but no music and no names for the dances. They were easy until the "form two lines and face each other" dance came along. There was a hitch step and a walk backwards and a pivot that were all in a row and kind of hard to remember all in a row. At one point, I was movin and shakin and I hitched and then as I danced my way on, I heard Fred stage whisper at me, BACKWARDS! Yeah, I'd gone forwards, but at that point people were facing in all different directions, so it didn't really matter.

I realized that there's a super secret underground line dancing community that Fred and I are just on the brink of. Maybe about fifteen people there were all laughing it up with inside line dance jokes. One tall man kept joking that he was not the one everyone should follow. A woman was helping us all dance the face each other one and we had to cross through each other. She was also doing a lock step while we were taught to simply walk forward, so this was not her first time doing this particular dance.

The epitome of the evening: as we were waiting around for line dancing to begin, I was mid-sentence and then caught myself, tapped Fred, and nudged my chin for her to look over her shoulder.

Enter. Jean.

Yes, Jean, the line dance instructor from our line dancing days a few months back had arrived in shorts and a yellow jacket. Fred was like, wow you treated spotting her like you would a MichaelJFoxMichaelJFox moment. True, I did. Jean Jean Dancing Machine was in our vicinity.

She did not teach the dances. She stood in the front and did the dances, sometimes getting a bit ahead of the instructor because Jean, of course, knows all the dances already. She's obviously there because she simply likes to dance. She had her arms flared out and her groove thang workin' (okay, Jean doesn't really have a groove thang per se, but she works it in her own way).

I am sure she spotted us. She had to. Jean knew a lot of people there, and was mingling with the super secret underground line dance community of which we are not a part. And so, Jean did not say anything to us. We did not say anything to Jean. I basically told Fred that I wouldn't say anything to her if she didn't say something first. People tend to forget who I am; I've learned that over the years, so instead of putting someone in an uncomfortable position of not remembering me, I let them make the first move.

It was very quick. I don't know if time flew or we'd started late, or if it was because we had no music, but before we knew it, it was over. A crowd had formed on the boardwalk to watch and some people had even come down into the bleachers to look on. Then everyone started mingling with each other. We went to get fliers. We found out that the woman who had been teaching the class did not have the same name of the woman listed on the calendar. We figured that the woman slotted to teach hadn't shown for whatever reason and this other woman had taken over on the fly or at the last minute, and that's why we had no music.

When we got the flier, the woman said we could email her and told her we met her there and she would put us on her. No, really, I didn't forget a word. Every time she said that statement, she never finished it. At one point, I thought I heard her say her "ass" but that can't be right. Fred said she would email her to find out if there would ever be music. Then maybe Fred will be put on her [fill in the blank].

The Ubermensch of All Ubermensches

2009-07-03T11:12:00.003-04:00

When I taught Ethics, my favorite lesson was one I entitled, "Why Nietzsche Rocks The Casbah." You wouldn't believe how many students mindlessly wrote that in their notebooks without flinching. I guess that's the power of being on the other side of the desk; write notes and don't question. This was during my stint at Briar, so the fact that they were writing notes at all was reason to celebrate. In any case, this lesson was my one and only biased lesson during which I raved about how much I love Nietzsche's idea of will to power and the overman or superman or, and I loved writing this word on the board, ubermensch. Anything with uber in it is fun to say. I also let them in on the fact that Nietzsche was an overbearing misogynist, but that paled in comparison to his idea that we all are responsible for our own actions. At that point, I would bring up excuses commonly used by the college student and respond in Nietzsche-kind--late to class? your fault. don't have the assignment? your fault. not happy? your fault. Then I smile: See why I like Nietzsche?

Lance Olsen goes a few steps further than I ever would be able to. I'm not a philosophy expert; I'm an English expert who dabbled in Ethics and Philosophy because they were fun for me. Lance Olsen becomes Nietzsche; he channels the late philosopher during his last night on Earth. While Nietzsche's Kisses is a work of fiction, the philosophy and characterization are so close to Nietzsche rhetoric that it may as well be fact. Olsen dares to infiltrate the private mind of a dying man who is flashing back to the points in his life where he learned what life is, and learned what life is not. In taking up this task, Olsen teaches Nietzsche's teachings, but also shows his human side, and, in turn, his flaws.

A strange voyeuristic tale, Nietzsche's Kisses is frightening and awful in the way literature should be. Olsen has dared to take on a seemingly-overwhelming task, and has succeeded with brilliance.

Totally On The Same Page

2009-06-30T14:41:00.003-04:00

Yet another reason to love my dermatologist. He walks in and asks how we're doing. I say good. He looks at my face and asks, What's happening here? He's the only one allowed to say that to me ever. I'm quite aware that I have a pubescent break-out on my chin linked mostly to my period and somewhat, because I feel like playing the blame game and tossing around the hatred, to Craigslist's stupid 5 o'clock shadow rubbing all over my delicate womanly skin. Jerk needs to shave.

(Can you tell he hasn't called? He said on Friday that he would call when he got back from the weekend and it's now Tuesday and I left him a message last night because he never ever never ever picks up the phone when I call him and I still haven't heard from him. Yeah, whatever, moving on).

So the derm doc asks about what's going on and I say that I got my period. He responds, and I shit you not, well the one good thing about that is that means you're not pregnant, right?

Heh heh. He goes on to say how my mom would probably be happy about my period and that I don't need any bratty kids running around me. And this is why I'm still totally and forever in love with him.

Frustrating Friendship

2009-06-29T14:52:00.003-04:00

Last night, I was supposed to drive to Astoria so TLS would take me to get my oil changed because I don't like going alone. When I spoke to him during the day, he told me that it hadn't been three months yet so I didn't need it changed right away. I said that the sticker in fact said that June 19 was three months. He said, but you haven't been driving as much. I said, If you don't want to go to get the oil changed, then say that instead of telling me about my car. He said he would rather hang out here. I said it was fine because I can wait another week or two.

He called at 7:30 and said he was finishing up and on his way. He was in Howard Beach. It's about 20 to 30 minutes from here.

At 8:45, I called him and was like, Where are you? He said he would be here in 15 to 20 minutes. That didn't answer my question, but it gave me satisfying information.

When he finally got here, he changed and told me his tale of why he was late and I was like, it really doesn't matter. Which it didn't. We could waste more time with his stupid excuse or we could go out and get iced coffee. We went out and got iced coffee.

He was hungry so I said we could make mac n cheese. I went to get the box from the pantry and found that he'd gone into the living room. I called after him, I know you don't think I'm cooking for you, right? Then that turned into a needless conversation about what cooking for him means to me--does that mean something at all? I was like, it means that you can get your ass into gear and help me. His idea of helping was annoying the crap out of me until I told him to get out of my kitchen. Yes, I used the phrase "my kitchen." After about fifteen minutes, we were chowing down on mac n cheese and some turkey chili, which is actually really good when mixed together.

By this time, it was well after 10 and I wasn't going to last through a movie, so we watched some tv. I was under a blanket because he needed the A/C on. He dropped his coffee coolatta on the floor in the living room. I told him he wasn't allowed to eat or drink in that room anymore because my couches are pretty much the only thing I own and I treat them like they are my children. Which proves that I wouldn't be a very good mother considering I think children are completely inanimate and don't need to eat and need to stay clean at all times.

Lazy Afternoon

2009-06-29T14:47:00.003-04:00

I planned to spend Sunday afternoon lazing around, catching up on writing, and moving between couches. Actually, I didn't plan that. That's usually what happens without much planning involved. The nice thing about living so close to Fred is that the chance of a pop-in always exists. She and her niece stopped by to say hi on their walk. Then, a little while later, I heard banging.

I need to get a new doorbell. One that works.

That's when "plans" for Sunday changed from me being lazy and moving from couch to couch to computer to couch to me staying in one place while Fred and her niece nested across the room as we watched one of those teen spoof movies on VH1. That's really what Sundays are for.

Quadruple Rich

2009-06-29T14:27:00.002-04:00

The first time I read Adrienne Rich, I was an undergrad, thumbing through a huge anthology. Her floating love poem mesmerized me. I retyped it and sent it to my boyfriend at the time. He didn't get it. That's one of the many many many reasons we are no longer together.

Adrienne Rich is not difficult to "get." Sometimes she writes in incomplete thoughts, jagged lines, no punctuation, seemingly random words. But the words are never random. They are deliberate. The emotion is deliberate; it vibrates off the pages.

I read a chronology of Rich: The Will To Change, Diving Into The Wreck, An Atlas Of The Difficult World, and Telephone Ringing In The Labyrinth. Throughout each collection, she is as political as she is personal. She is an activist, an advocate, and a lover of words. Her relationship with language is as intimate as any romance should be. Even when I navigated through the long-lined epic of Atlas, I was riveted by powerful diction. Yes, I read long lines. I must be growing as a reader. That, and Rich just makes me want to read.

Yes, You Told Me So

2009-06-28T13:26:00.004-04:00

Fine. Let's chalk it up to me having too much time on my hands. I have nothing to distract me from my social life. So that means my entire life right now is my social life. So that means while other people involved in my social life go off on their other endeavors such as things like, oh, you know, earning a living, I do not leave the social realm and think that everyone is still within the realm with me. So when Craigslist didn't contact me for over 24 hours, I, of course, thought I would never hear from him again because in my mind, he'd been doing nothing but pondering the pros and cons of talking to me for all those hours and finally decided that the cons outweighed the pros, if any existed, and he wrote me off.

Not so. At all. He called me on Friday night to say he got my message and he thanked me for wishing him a good weekend (which I'd texted to him as my final message to him ever, at the time of course). He told me what his plans were for the rest of the weekend upstate and that he wanted to touch base with me before he got caught up in weekend mode. He also said he wants to get together next week when he's back.

I need a hobby. I need a distraction. I need a job. I need something other than my social life to save me from my social life. I need to get off my ass and start working on some projects I said I would get to this summer since I have all the time in the world. The next two months will be jam-packed with projects. Picture albums. Query letters. Hemming. Dusting. Writing. Reading. Yoga yoga yoga. Then as Fall approaches, planning and prepping. I'm writing down a to-do list for each minute of every day. That way I'll have more than my social life to focus on, which is probably best for everyone involved.

Euphemism Strikes Again

2009-06-25T13:47:00.005-04:00

Last night, I watched a movie. It's a Guy Ritchie movie. I have no idea what it's about. Rock N Rolla. When I saw Snatch, I didn't understand any of it. Add Rock N Rolla to the list. However, not understanding this second GR flick is probably not exactly because it's a GR flick, and quite possibly, I have no idea what went on in it because I was too busy mackin it with the Twin on his couch. Maybe. Possibly. Perhaps.

This Is Where Neuroticism Comes From

2009-06-25T11:39:00.004-04:00

Because Craigslist told me that I could call him, too, I debated about doing so. Then late yesterday afternoon, around the time that he's been calling me, I dialed him up. I got his voicemail. I left a quick message. I have not heard from him.

However, I did hear from him briefly yesterday morning. I had texted him the night before when I'd gotten home and said again that I'd had a good time. He replied to that text yesterday morning aroud 11 saying, Me too talk to you later.

Here's where my childhood years of reading mystery detective novels finally pays off. From all the above information, I can clearly deduce that some time between 11 AM yesterday and right now today, he realized that he hates me. I'm not sure what exactly triggered it. Perhaps it's the fact that I actually did call him when he told me to. Maybe his saying that I could call meant that I could but should not. Perhaps the text the night before plus that call piled up into making him feel smothered by me, crazy crazy lunatic me. Maybe it was the message itself--I asked if he was wearing his hard hat and tool belt, and that's not something I haven't asked him before, so maybe he's tired of it.

Or maybe it was simply a revelation. He was jackhammering away in his white tank top, ripped jeans, hard hat, tool belt, black scuffed up boots, tan muscular arms taut, sweating a little bit in the sun, and then he realized, hmmm, that girl I saw last night--I hate her.

I wish I could say I hate him, too, and I sorta do for making me think it was okay to call him and it obviously wasn't, but I still kinda like him too much to hate him, which is probably very very bad.

Superb Second Date

2009-06-24T12:55:00.005-04:00

Last night, I met up with Craigslist at Main Event, which is a halfway point, and it poured the whole way there, and I was soaked by the time we got into the place. He seemed off--not talking, distracted, fidgety. So I asked him twice if he was okay, and twice he said yes. Then he told me he had a headache from downing a Red Bull and his back hurt from playing basketball and he was tired and he was finally starting to unwind. Apparently, all that translates to "okay."

We got drinks and food and as soon as he ate, he was a happy person again. Phew. Seriously, I was having flashbacks to the last date I had with BookstoreBoy and how we just didn't connect that final time. Instead, this took a turn for the better and after a while, we went out to the parking lot. And we macked it. In his Jeep. Because I'm a classy lady.

Upon my exiting of the Jeep, he said he would talk to me soon, and then said that I could call him, too. I was like, but you're at work. He said, that doesn't matter--you can leave a message.

So now I'm going into neurotic overload, thinking, hmmm, SHOULD I call him? Really? If I call him today, he'll think I'm calling simply because he told me to call him. I mean, I've thought about calling him before, but now I don't think I can. What will I say if he picks up? Really, you would think that I've never used a phone before. Yet another sign that I probably like him more than I should.

Five Minutes And Thirty-Three Seconds Of Pure Genius

2009-06-23T12:57:00.001-04:00

You Probably Knew This Was Coming Too

2009-06-22T22:21:00.002-04:00

I got a text from Twin an hour ago. He asked if I wanted to hang out tomorrow or Wednesday. I told him that tomorrow was out but Wednesday could work if he didn't mind a laterish start at 9 something because I'm meeting a colleague at 8. He said it was no problem and that we could chill and watch a movie or something and he didn't have to be at work on Thursday until later.

Watching a movie means being in someone's living room. I know what "watch a movie" means. Don't give me that line. I totally INVENTED that line.

Since I was already going to be out, I suggested I go out by him, and that we could also always go to a bar. He sent back his address. So I guess we'll be chillin' in his living room to "watch a movie."

You Know You Knew This Was Coming

2009-06-22T22:14:00.004-04:00

So I don't hate him. He doesn't hate me. Craigslist called me today. I was happy he called when I was in the middle of doing something, so I told him I had to call him back. Then when I was done, I didn't call him right back. Instead, I ran out to do my list of chores. He texted me to say he was going to the gym and would call me later.

He did call me later and we had, like, what are those things called when two people are on the phone and they exchange sentences? Oh, yeah, a conversation. We had an actual conversation. Rarely do I have conversations over the phone with guys I date. Usually, it's a quick plan. Even more usual is a texting convo. So this call was a gem in many ways.

The sparkliest part is that I have a date tomorrow night with him. He did the thing that I've found in talking to all my single gal pals that most guys do. Instead of making a plan for tomorrow, he said he'd call me tomorrow afternoon. Okay, as long as I know I'm going out.

I asked him, Just to be sure, you're not going to call me at like 6 tomorrow and say it's not happening, right?

He answered, As of right now I don't see that happening but tomorrow is another day.

I stopped for a second and then I heard him start to laugh. He makes me laugh. The night I met him, he kept laughing and told me that I made him laugh. Laughing is my favorite part of dating. (Yes, I still think it's masochistic, but it has its high points, too).

I Have To Get This Out

2009-06-22T11:41:00.004-04:00

Dating is the single-most masochistic activity in which single women voluntarily participate. Thank you.

Going Nowhere Slowly

2009-06-22T11:30:00.006-04:00

Friday night turned out to be a date with Wayne Brady. Saturday was a girls' night. Craigslist had texted me that I could drunk dial him later on. I did on the train home. He didn't pick up. He never picks up. I had the girls scream Hi into the phone and then I left a quick message saying I hoped he was having a good time wherever he was but most likely, I thought, he was sleeping. I don't know what he was up to. I don't know what he was up to yesterday, either, because I haven't heard from him since the drunk dial. Maybe his Sunday was jam-packed with ignoring me and dating other girls because he obviously hates me. That's okay, though, because I decided this morning that I hate him right back.

Instead of hearing from the only viable dating option I have, I got a text from the Twin. It was a little over a week since I'd seen him and neither one of us had contacted the other. He texted me that he had had a busy week and was wondering how I was and he hadn't forgotten me. I texted back that I was slightly hung over. He said he would hit me up later. Who says that? He does, apparently.

He did hit me up last night. More texts. How was I feeling? Did I have a good time. I'd asked him if he'd gone out the night before and he said for a little bit with the guys. Then that was it. So "hit you up" means "have a text conversation that goes nowhere."

Words that describe my current dating life: Glorious! Stupendous! Brilliant! Vibrant! Amazing! (these, of course, need to have that sarcastic undertone to indicate how really the opposite is true).