oh, THAT'S my password! ;)

Has life ever been better? Or busier?



My semester ended today, and Robby and I fly out in 25 days!!!!!

There's still a ton to do between now and then, but the biggest has got to be packing up and moving everything I own IN ADDITION to packing for 10 rugged Yukon weeks. Nine of which will be spent living in a tent camp with my boyfriend, how awesome is that? :)

Also, there's that and Seattle/Vancouver on the way there, and L.A. and Denver on the way home. I am soooo excited, but sort of crazy nervous right now. I'll feel better once every paper is filed with the appropriate department, everything is worked out, every box packed and moved out, and we are standing in my empty place.

gear to purchase:

quality long underwear
either a double size air mattress or thermarests and a coupler
a large enough pack
a decent waterproof jacket
new boots, the old ones are done in!
another two pairs of wool socks

questioning him, myself, and everything

Ok, remember when I said I was done blogging about dating... uh yeah. so much for that.

So- the story is that for the past 8 weeks I've been dating this great guy, who creepily fills a lot of the requirements I set out over the past few years, which after all my failures, I'd tack on to the drawing board that I kept on returning to.

I said I wanted to date someone who's an anthrop, someone who's smarter, faster, stronger than me, someone who likes -no- who LOVES coffee, and who has something to say. Someone agnostic, like I am, but who believes in a non-anthropomorphized G-d, when all is said and done.

He should think I'm absolutely marvelous, he should be non-plussed by the fact that I have children, he should be willing to disagree with me on some things and should be ethical and love outdoor places.

He also happens, in real life, to be a Republican, to like Equal in his iced tea (baffles me entirely), to keep his bedroom messy, and to hunt large game. And I don't even know if that's the proper usage of the phrase "large game".


And I've been happy, being appreciated and pursued. The object of my affection enthusiastically treks across campus to see me for the 5 minutes our midday schedules allow and puts his arm around me protectively in public and texts just to say nice things sometimes.

But I'm suddenly afraid, too. I'm afraid that I'm un-please-able. I'm afraid that I will sabotage things because I am crazy or I don't want to be happy or something ridiculous.

I'm worried that I'm slower, weaker, and stupider or that I'm not willing to argue enough (good naturedly, of course), or well enough, on matters of science and politics.
And I'm terribly worried that, like B, he's rejecting the concept of defining the relationship because I'm just not nearly good enough. Don't worry, my LOGICAL side knows that if that's what he thinks, well then good riddance, and so on and so forth, but my emotional side wants to know if I'll ever come back from that awful twist of reality.


But let me defend my guy, and the state of things as they stand right now before you think he's anything like B!!

First of all, he's the first to say that you don't have to SAY "now we're bf/gf and we're not dating anyone else" because if it's so, it's so, no matter what you call it. And according to him, dating a person for a couple of months defines the relationship for you. Especially so if you wake up together regularly on weekends.

He is entirely opposed to concept of "the talk" that defines things between men and women yet we've talked about "the talk" and we've talked about the relationship (without crossing over into that which offends his sensibilities LOL!) and about what we like about all of this between us and about previous relationships that didn't go so well.

But my silent, internal counter to that is that a woman is sort of disrespected when she is "with" a man and she's not his "girlfriend". And do I want to be thought less of by everyone? Does he want me to be thought less of? For everyone to assume that I'm just NOT GOOD ENOUGH? Of course not.

But that assumption, for several reasons, is tied to legitimizing sex, and we're not having it, so... yeah.

I know.

...

We're crazy about each other and love falling asleep together and waking up together, but we're "waiting".

This might seem crazy, or right, to you. It seems like both to me, somehow.



But I'd love to know what you think about people and definitions and semantics in relationships. And about the waiting!

the achy breaky feeling

Oh my gosh, I'm serious, I just want to stick my fingers into my thoracic cavity and put my cartilage and/or rib back where it needs to be!

I went ice skating late last Saturday night with Brennan (to break up the monotony of paper-writing all day and night) and the Zamboni wasn't run at all for some reason. We agree that the ice was choppier than it should have been and I'm not just a total klutz. Seriously, I'm not actually bad on skates.

Anyways. I played it cool, toughed it out. It hurt a lot but we skated for another hour before I had to call it a night.

Sunday morning I woke up to the sound of myself screaming (yes, they were obscenities, I am ashamed) and then dosed myself with ibuprofen and got ready for church/garden club fundraising.

The fundraiser went well! Very exciting, can't wait to break ground and get dirty.

And Helen and I are going to Tally for the holiday to see Poppa and Lolita, yay.

Also, Conner was just in a Thanksgiving show and he was basically the STAR of the show. Well, he had one line to memorize- They met the natives, and shook their hands!- but only 4 kids in the whole PreK were asked to memorize a line. I am so proud.

And Coral is just blossoming. Ever-lovely and precious and working really hard on bringing up her reading/writing grades.

AND I lived through the hardest week of school ever :) and I have all A's.

And now I'm dating the cutest boy ever. Go me!

ruler breaker/heart shaker

What fun is living if you can't make rules and then ditch them, right?

Sigh. Actually, I didn't intend to come on here to write. I came to read. I wanted to know HOW was it that I felt 6 months ago when Billy and I broke up. Just HOW BAD was it? It was a really bad break up, wasn't it???

Because we're talking again for some reason, and he wants to hangout, and I'm sorta almost game. Partially out of curiosity (is he still the same person he was back then? does he still drive that jeep? am I going to fly into a rage and break his glasses and punch his lights out? do we still have good chemistry together?) and partially because I'm just not as resolute as I should/could be. And because I love being invited to a costume party. (and because I NEVER GET TO HAVE SEX ANYMORE<<<< ARGH)

I know. It's a bad idea. I know.

But I'm also really tired of talking to guys who don't understand standard English but brag about their intelligence/vocabularies.

I miss someone knowing me and caring and wanting. And I guess I miss being walked on a little bit, too. If I hadn't just had my fill of therapy talk from a psychology student I know, I'd say that I need some.

I can write a helluva self promoting email

Just applied (by email) for an administrative assistant type job which I actually think I would find enjoyable and fulfilling. And it's in Clearwater, too.

And I'm qualified and "come highly recommended!" Oh crap. I hope I spelled "recommended" correctly in the email...

a personal victory, ordinary run of the mill moments of clarity, & a startling IJ revelatory moment

This morning, I jumped out of bed (ok, what really happened was that I cheerily responded "Hello!" to a text that woke me up instead of the more typical "argh. do I know you?" See why for me that constitutes jumping out of bed?)ready to face my day and head to the beach.

I put on my bathing suit and checked my midrange sideways view in the small mirror of my jewelery box... and... kinda flattish tummy area. I mean, not flat flat. Not like before kids. Not like Matt V's prescribed "rock star lean abs" but people- in the past few weeks alone I have enjoyed cake and milk, several pints of beer and a hot dog, a sushi feast, more beer, ice cream with Reese's peanut butter cups smashed in for good measure, and arepas with cheese. [I also have had countless meals made solely of vegetable matter and have stopped using cream/sugar. I've worked pretty hard, in spite of the stuff I listed above (hitting the gym, riding my bike, and so on), so I guess I shouldn't be so surprised, it was just a startling moment.]

In that tiny little mirror, for about an hour, I just didn't look completely pregnant. And then I had an apple for breakfast.


Also- moment of clarity for me: I don't know how to flirt anymore. Uhhh. Ok, now what? Dang.


Thirdly, for the IJ readers out there: I read a DFW quote yesterday re: the use of endnotes vs footnotes. He and his editor needed a way to shorten the original draft of the book so they hit upon the idea of weeding out some information into notes. The editor thought it would be more reader-friendly to use footnotes instead of endnotes but DFW said that the use of endnotes "cutely mimics some of the story’s thematic concerns"...

In case you don't follow, what happens when you flip to the back and then back to your page and then back to the back and then back to your page? What are you reminded of? (Answer is a good tennis rally)

Then I was ruminating on how the whole narrative seems to be a tennis rally of sorts, bouncing balls off of different topics and they keep on coming with a sick speed. And then, like that, I knew what those orbs are in the book, marking various sections... And it was so obvious (not the moon or the sun or simply just a pretty, lightly shaded circle). They are tennis balls, flying through the book. Fwap. fwap. fwap. fwap.

ANOTHER reason to trust your instincts

Oh, I am half yearning for the gumption to say what I want to right now, and half happy enough that I have the restraint to hold my tongue. I don't want to burn bridges, ya know. I'll tell this story as a parable, make of it what you will.


I went to the Rays game with my friend (woo! 10-9, Toronto can just GO HOME!). Let's call him Matt. And he was, like, reaaally inebriated.

In the past few months he'd been trying to get me to hang out and I kept putting it off or whatever because I had this sinking feeling that he only wants one thing, even though his whole song and dance is all "Oh my gosh, we have an amazing deep connection, let's get crazy and find the Tao, etc".

And let me just say that I wasn't at all wrong to be suspicious. Sigh. And then I made a comparison between myself and a Tibetan monk, in order to illustrate my level of availability for anything beyond the platonic.

So...who else is doing the Infinite Summer? you there, in the back?

I want so much to discuss the first couple of parts of Infinite Jest w/ someone! Instead, I'll have to satisfy myself with telling you my own personal news:

So, I have a date on Sunday with this guy who's smart, funny, etc and it turns out he also Colombian. Wow, cool, I thought.

Turns out he was in my middle school gifted class w/ Mrs. Silos. Ha! Last night we reminisced: Remember when we had to memorized that poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley?? Remember when we mummified that chicken??? Haha!

Ans speaking of chickens... I secured 2 free range laying hens and a chicken coop for my kids today. For free. Just like that! Someone needed to get rid of them by Thursday.

Sweeeet. I love free stuff, even better when it's delicious free stuff.

the kind of blog post I said I'd never write

So, I've been absent from my blog. Part of it, I guess is that I've been using twitter, which makes me feel lazzzzy for large-scale blogging.

And I'm in a bit of a funk. This is the very tail end of day 4 (really?) of an all produce diet I'm trying. It's possibly the ease-in-phase for a fast (a la cousin Alicia), but it's possible that I'll just go back to my normal healthy-ish ways and give up the extremity soon.

It's hard to say. I'm having a hard time remembering WHY I started down this path some of the time, and other moments it's fine. No extreme hunger yet. Just some moping over the unnecessarily odoriferous homemade blueberry pie in my fridge that I can't even sniff at lest I devour it, and the containers of fresh baked brownie that are stored behind cabinet doors now, because they mocked me all fucking afternoon. Thanks for bringing those brownies by, Sam.

So instead of my normal fare (lots of protein, whole grains, veggies, supplemented by plenty of junk like bagels, brownies, and chicken wings), I am eating produce. Only produce.

I started off doing just raw stuff but a certain craving hit and I needed hot veggies, so I went ahead and changed the parameters for myself.

And, so far so good. I guess. I mean, I guess the GOAL is to deconstruct reality and rebuild it. I have to unravel in order to reravel, etc etc so I guess going nuts is the desired effect?? I want to "clear my mind" and spend this time NOT eating "figuring myself out". Oh yeah, and resetting my palate.


And I'm not just off meat/diary (and in the next couple of days, all food in general)... I'm off men for a good while too. I think I need to figure a lot of things out.

so went out with that anthro-guy the other night...

Maybe I was too generous when I described him as "wonderful" and "considerate"... I was poignantly reminded why, years ago, I had nicknamed him " _____ the Asshole".


I picked him up at his parents' house in the burg and we proceeded towards the tavern.

Literal "banter" from the first five minutes of the date...


me: so... you know how to drive manual transmission?

him: of course I do. I have a cock (gestures); I can do anything.



And, later on.


him: awww.... should we get you a map so you can find first?? [first gear]



him [during our vicious scrabble match at the bar]: you are making this game completely worthless!



me: you are SO much less annoying with your clothes off!


He started to open up and not be such a jerk when we were approaching his parents' house again. We were actually talking and sitting in the car and then I said maybe we should drive around the block, since we were getting along for a bit.

We went to Crescent Lake for a little while, and then I took him back home, before I'd feel compelled to strangle him again. He kissed me good bye and told me to not 'be such a stranger', and said that I'm still welcome to stay with him this summer, when I'm in Pensacola.

Ha, right.

the one where I discuss (complain about?) dating and sex and objectification and everything personal

Woohoo! It seems that I'm wholly OUT of break up/rebound territory. Not bothered much by the ole BC any more these days. Except yesterday, when I drove past a black Jeep Cherokee and I think the driver and I made eye contact. And the driver had a square shaped head, nice lips, and black nerdy glasses. I almost threw up, but thank goodness I had to shift into 3rd and didn't have time to get all dramatic.


Anyways.
Helen and I recently noticed that single-ness becomes me. I am happy and healthy. I seem to think that I like relationships better, but when I'm actually WITH someone, I turn into a wreck; self denial, weeping when I fear it's OVER, manic happy episodes when things are good. With someone, I tend to drink too much, miss too much work, and ignore my other friends. It's awful, really.


But dating is a miserable pain in the ass. Let me tell you. I've not really jumped back into that pool yet, just texting with a few people, wetting my feet, so to speak. And you know, I wouldn't even bother, except that I really do want to believe in the whole "falling in love" thing. And if you want a dating relationship to go well, I've learned you must take it a little slower than you'd like and postpone sex until you've defined the relationship. Both of those things are NOT things I'd prefer to do (I'm terribly impulsive), that's just what I've discovered through all my, uh, research.

And I declared late last Dec, after B and I broke it off for good, that I was done done DONE with casual sex (because of the health risk, not because of the psychological implications). And then I was in a monogamous relationship again (which made me miserable) for a while, and now single and wishing I'd not said I was done with casual sex, because if I'm also not getting into a relationship, that's pretty much the same thing as saying I'm done with sex altogether. See? This is a moebius strip conundrum all the way! Argh.

Now, I want to add that my anthropologist friend (who I "have some history with") is in town, petitioning for a bit of my time, and casual is the agenda. It's not very well hidden. Actually, it's completely blatant. There never was much pretense with him. And the kinds of things he says in text are so crazy and outrageous, part of me wants to slap him. But he can back it up, let me tell you. And my brain likes the banter, anyways.

But wait, didn't I say I was DONE with all of that?

So my questions are:

are men who pursue women for sex instead of relationships OBJECTIFYING them?

is objectification actually wrong if it's consensual?

is it any more forgivable if the man is wonderful, brilliant, and considerate?

is it any better considering that I've always happily enough walked away from the affairs in the past?

what if it turns out I can't fall in love without it being a disaster, anyways?




If I can't have what you have... a hand to hold, a compadre, a partner in crime, a yang to my yin... can't I at least have the hot (knocking over lamps and chairs and tall piles of books) sex?

"It's like, what is this? The Love Connection at 5:30 with Travis Short?"

Many funny things were said during study time today. That one (above) has got to take the cake, and I wish it'd been me that came up with that quip.

See, there are these two people in the front row, directly in front of me and to the left a bit, that have this nutty chemistry. They're always, like, poking each other with pencils and someone today said he's picked her up before to crack her back (???) and they just have this... vibe. It's hilarious, really, except they are both seeing other people, somewhat lackadaisically. I pretty much put money down that they get it together at the midnight hour, and go out after our final Tuesday night. Unlike Madonna in that movie where she's on a deserted island with her one true love?

I don't know, I've never seen that movie. I'm just talking.

I did, however, watch I'll Never Be Your Woman and Knocked Up over the past few days (due to cutie Paul Rudd being in them both).

well, there goes my anonymity!! jk

No seriously, I couldn't have been more delighted to get a facebook friend req from Billy just now. Too cute.

I happened to log in for a quick minute and thought, "Gee? A friend request? From whom????"

And it was a happy surprise.


But, do I need to go back and delete anything I've posted? Hmmm.

I wanted there to be tiny rat guillotines in this title

But there was no better way to work that in, since I'm feeling pretty happy right now.

In the car, when it was 95 degrees and awful, I thought I'd title this one 'who knew tiny rat guillotines would be registering on the sexy-meter??' but I decided to let. it. go.

It's kind of a long tail, are you ready?


So, yesterday was completely devoted to getting that paper off the ground. I did as much as I could stand and then left for the beach. Stopped by the bf's house (his ACTUAL HOUSE folks: I think we are getting somewhere on this comes-with-the-wind kind of flakiness)to pick him up and then I pulled a bait an switch... He assumed we were just going to hang out on the beach near his house, but off we went to go meet up with some people I know (mostly friends of Cousin Sean and Kandice). It was awkward because of some odd drama Billy was privy to regarding CrazyBob (Billy's totally whack 60 yo roommate) and his estranged brother who, it turns out, is the father of one of my acquaintances, and was in attendance at this little gathering.

Was weird and really awkward. And too cold for sunning or swimming anyways, although we tried. So we left after a short while. Later that night, after I submitted my paper, Billy came over and we eased out of the awkwardness and into the night.

He played songs on the guitar and wanted me to sing, which I happily did (and loudly). We played Osho Zen. We went outside and gawked at my crazy neighbors.

And then, in the afterglow of our union (ahem), there we were- laying on the livingroom floor bed that we've grown accustomed to making on those nights when my kids are sleeping upstairs, we talked about all sorts of things (mostly about SATs and college and science). He told me a story about a girl he 'knew' once. I assumed he meant that in the biblical sense of the word, but I was certain when he brought up the lab rats.

A whole year and a half ago, I felt self conscious about the idea of dating him because I happened to know that his ex was a neuroscientist (genius??). I felt like there is just something so hot about that much intelligence, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Well, I agreed with him that any job that includes goggles and a lab coat is pretty much the greatest thing eva. And he told me a story about his ex giving little rats pap smears and then using the tiny guillotine.

I pondered aloud what it must DO to a person, to make a living like that.

He pondered aloud, back at me, that I should be asking what it DOESN'T do to you.

the one where I didn't do anything excessively stupid

Instead, it's the one where Lloyd cooks a mean steak dinner, we all go to the beach in the middle of the night, and nearly lose 2 pairs of (really nice) sandals. It's the one where Billy gallantly says that at least mine were recovered, and that's good enough for him.

It's the one where we end up sleeping on my livingroom floor, although Lloyd offers us the couch. And in the morning, I dash out for a bit to take the kids to school and come home to finally squeeze in some alone time with the bf.


Thank goodness I get along so famously with the ole college buddy, because I'm quite sure he's going to be around for nearly all of our 'couple time' while he's in town.

hmm, I don't think I've never tried to sabotage my own relationship before

I did something really awful, rather dishonorable, and altogether juvenile last night. Pretty much the 3rd worst thing you can do when you are dating someone you REALLY like- I looked in my boyfriend's blackberry while he was passed out drunk/sleeping.

And I saw something sort of bad in there (re: questionable fidelity).

And then I tried to wake him, firmly, but calmly to say what I had to say (which was basically accusing him of cheating).

And then, what? I took a gun out and shot my own foot off??


He was understandably upset that I had the nerve to read a text in his phone, and that we were even discussing it, but he held to the fact his actions have been spotless since we've been together. For the first time ever, we were both angry at each other. I offered to sleep in Helen's room, but he asked me not to. I was still very upset and went downstairs for a while.

Lloyd (Billy's old college roommate) and Helen were still hanging out and received me with open arms. They were very supportive; they think Billy and I have (had?) something worth working at and they both agreed that the text message I was upset about WAS in fact inappropriate, but that I should give him the benefit of the doubt on this one. I do acknowledge that texts are not the same thing as actions.

Remorse isn't a grave enough word. Not nearly. There are no words to explain how I wanted to swallow those ten stupid, awful minutes, so that they could never exist. Never see the light of day.

HOW COULD I HAVE DONE THAT??!! I'm sure I'd be irate if he'd gone snooping in my phone.

I went upstairs and crawled into bed and just said, "Billy? Can you please forgive me, I am sooo-" and he shushed my apology, said I was forgiven, and held me for a moment. We whispered small comforts and he fell back into a deep sleep, one where he didn't seem to know I was even there. I had a fitful night, incredibly INCREDIBLY embarrassed and fearful and so on, barely falling asleep before daylight crept in.

writing my paper today

Wish me lots of luck. While this is fascinating work (basically writing an Anthropology paper, however since it's for World Religions, I'm using MLA not AAA format, but such is life), there are only so many hours in the day.

Foolishly, I was so embroiled in the whole 'what's going on with my boyfriend?' thing that I forgot to start this project earlier in the week. Or I just wanted the adrenaline rush of doing it all now?

Eh, well it'll be an easy enough paper to write. I've chosen to outline the basic tenets of the Patchakuti Mesa carrying tradition. By that I mean I will discuss the Mesa as a representation of the shaman or carrier's Universe, how humans function as conduits of healing energy, Sacred Reciprocity, and the Eagle and Condor myth.

Either way, I'm happily employed by it now and also feeling emotionally secure.

We had a nice night in, last night, and I needed to hear that Billy had been thinking about us and that while he was in Spring Hill all day on Saturday working, what he really wanted to be doing was patching things up with me.

So we did. He cuddled me extra tight while we laughed at The Daily Show. We got improvisational and wrote a couple of little songs together. We slept in a tangle, like puppies.

If you could only ask your partner for ONE thing

One condition.


Nobody's said I can't ask for two or ten or twenty things, but the one I've asked for means a lot to me (and surprisingly, it's not undying love or faithfulness).

"Promise me that if you ever have a problem with me you tell me".


Maybe

"Promise me you won't see Death Cab in Orlando with a girl friend" might have been a good one, but I took my chances. Damn it.

putting it all on the line

For the past day and a half, I've wondered what was up with Billy. To tell you the truth, I still don't know.

But I heard from him last night (so it's not the hospital, jail, or rehab) and he said he's not doing so great right now, that it has nothing to do with me, and that we'll chat later. And he apologized for leaving me hanging. [Tell me, how did he manage to assuage my bristled spirit with only 3 short lines of text? I don't know, but he did.]

This is part bittersweet and part relief; something is NOT well with him and that makes me incredibly sad, because I care. Everyone has heartache, and I have seen the dark shadow that outlines his bright, luminescent true self. And I don't mean that in a bad way; we all have that dark shadow traveling with us.

So here is me putting it all out there, even though he might break up with me when we talk later (I'm no longer expecting that, but technically it's POSSIBLE):

I still believe in love, trust, hope, romance, and truth. Sure, Tom put me through the wringer, and someone else I associated closely with (and would have been good to, all the days of my life) treated me badly. And if Billy is going to go from A+ boyfriend to just a memory in such a short span of time, that's going to be alright eventually too.

I don't care how much risk there is! I don't care if you all laugh at me, ridicule my choices, all of the times I give someone the benefit of the doubt and that person disappoints.

I don't care what you say. There IS something special about driving home with someone and singing together, and even when you get there, you take another loop through the neighborhood because your mate has started the song over, so you can both sing through it a second time, together.

I feel like a dork about this

So, Mr. C and I have had some nice heart to heart talks about life/relationships/thoughts/the future/etc.

And, we've seen each other about 5 times as much as Helen and Sam have in the past two weeks.

And, he spent both Fri and Sat night here.

And our time together is very nice, I'd say.


But I'm freaking out right now. It's totally stupid but I can't stop feeling like it was all a misunderstanding, a mistake. I don't know WHY he's interested. It doesn't make sense.


Hey- did you know I married my ex when I was 20 years old, I did it because I was certain (100% certain) that no other man could possibly EVER be attracted to me. So I married him, because I figured "What the hell, this is my only chance."

And when I split from Harry, it was with full knowledge that I might never be with someone again as long as I lived. WHY am I so dramatic about this stuff?? Clearly I have been with people since I left him, and on a purely physical, 'no attachments' level I get it. I understand. All humans have physical needs.

But Mr. C has been talking the (monogamy) talk and walking (very close to) the (L-word) walk. So, why am I afraid that it's over because he's been MIA by phone for just a handful of hours?

Well, we had plans to go to Chris and Sum's for a BBQ this evening and he was all into it. And then he left here to go home and take a shower around noon, intending to come back after which we'd head to party with my friends. Instead I got a text that said I should head over there, and he'd probably meet me there. Then a little while later, another that said "Talking to dad important".

My friend Ryan's gf just broke up with him last night, BY TEXT.

That's not what's happening here, is it?