Life Listed Chronologically

Sometimes, I wonder if things ever hurt less over time. All I know is that they hurt less frequently. In trying to talk to the boy about the mourning that he is going through, I wind up feel sad about half the time and occasionally will be the one crying instead of him. While he can say specifically what is wrong, what it is that makes him so sad; I cannot. I could, but I've been through it so many times and cannot bear to talk about it anymore. I wish I could just give the list of things that make me sad and let him pick which one it could be.

I have this thing for creepy news stories. I become somewhat obsessed with them, maybe more so than your average American media-consumer. When I found out about the nurse who was killing patients, it was just creepy enough to not change the station and listen. When I found out that he was my father's cousin it was too creepy for me to handle. I realize that, given my gene pool, I am not all that messed up.

Some girls feel as if you should never change your name. Some people may have assumed that my sister changing her name was a typical sorority girl act. But I wouldn't mind changing mine either, even if it is to the silly rhyme my name would become if I marry the current boy. Regardlessly, who would want to share a name with two murders and other unsavory types who make me cry from my father's family? It makes me appreciate him all the more.
Monday, December 22, 2003

I finally finished all requirements for the semester. But it's hardly over as there is job stuff to do, maybe work at my old job and knitting to do before Christmas. Last night I felt so overwhelmed and stressed, wondering how it was all going to get done. And then I took a break and realized that it all will get done. One by one, I'll check things off the list until the only thing to do is manically wrap gifts on Christmas Eve.

Lately, everything has felt like something that has already happened. Deja vu, if you will. As if the moment had already lived or I had already envisioned how it would play out in the most mundane situtations. This may be due to a lack of sleep rather than some super-powers.
Friday, December 19, 2003

It's the end of the semester. Even my dreams know this. Throughout college I was plagued with these horrible dreams about losing my teeth. My teeth would fall out one by one, my teeth would crumble in my mouth, my teeth would come pouring out of my mouth like vomit. My psychology-major-roommate suggested to me several times that these dreams had some deeper meaning about my life and mental problems beyond the stress of school. For four long years I would have these dreams and could not figure out how to make them stop. Then I graduated and stopped having them. Through all the stress that followed in the intervening years, my dreams never featured my teeth falling out any more. Or not that I particularly recall. Even when I had to get a root canal and was freaking out during my waking hours about my teeth.

And then last night, I had two teeth in my hand and wondered if it was normal for ones teeth to fall out. I wondered if I could do anything about the smooth hard teeth in my hand and the space in my mouth that my tongue could feel. I did not want to be missing teeth. I did not know if they could be put back in. I wanted them back in, I needed to have all my teeth. It is the end of the semester.

Every second of my life from now until Sunday is accounted for. Every second I have something to do. I have the presentation to the school’s president tomorrow to finish preparing for. I have a paper to write / data to run for this paper. I have to finish in time to go to PA to go shopping with my married sister, return spend time with a friend that will be at my parents’ house whether or not I am there, finish shopping with the boy and knit 3 scarves for his cousins as presents. Oh and address the fact that I have done relatively little for my job in the past month. I can do all of this stuff, I have enough time to get it done. But not time to watch television, take a long bath, read a book, and so forth. I have so little time and so much to do that the last thing I need is for my teeth to fall out.

When I was young and in college and was optimistic and all that other sentimental stuff that I now see as endearing innocence rather than the hell I thought it was, I used to just sleep when the semester was finally over. I would sleep forever. I would sleep 18 hours a day. I don’t really want that a week from now. I just was some discretionary time and no nightmares about my teeth.
Monday, December 15, 2003

The continuing account of the misadventures in my life
-or thinly veiled whining-

Driving to school on Wednesday, battling holiday traffic on my way to work, feeling like the only person on the planet that was not goofing off, I managed to kill my cell phone. It was on the passenger's seat and so was a bottle of water lying on its side with the cap not securely tightened. The water had been there since the day before, slowly leaking. I threw my phone right under it. And I killed it.

Despite the fact that I ask as if I am not in love with my cell phone, I am. I was reluctant to buy one but have developed a serious thing for my phone in the past 3 years. I love the fact that I can call anyone anytime for anything. I love that I can be some place horrible like at the supermarket and someone who loves me calls! I like being able to shut it off, saying I am done with you, world out there. And when I killed my phone, I cried a little deep inside, in that place with emotions so hidden and small not even Lewis and Clark could navigate their way to it.

So yeah, my phone died and it sucked. I did not know what to do when I was stuck in traffic and just wanted to call my sister to entertain me. I had to make decisions when going to my parents' house Thankgiving morning as to what might be needed rather than just calling. It was very primative in that way that made me feel as I might as well become Amish living so humbly without a cell phone.

After several days of waiting for the water to dry out and then phone still not turning on, I went to get a new one. I did not tell them that it got wet, but batted my eyelashes and shrugged, saying it just stopped working since the phone was still under warranty. Several hours, and two malls, as well as many desires to scream supressed, I got a new phone. I don't know if it has changed my life to live a few days without a phone but I know it is essential. I realized this while looking in the rear-view mirror waiting at a stoplight and investigating my hair. I realized it has been months since it has been cut and the holidays are coming. In such an emergency situation, the cell phone is a life-saver. Thank god for warranties.

I also got this big bloody nose while jogging in the woods over the weekend. Nothing can make you feel like more of a loser than being 26, in a dumpy sweatshirt, wiping blood from your nose with your hands and then wiping your hands off with leaves and then a pack of teenage runner boys come by, looking at you with alarm. I felt like some scary creature that people make up stories about after seeing me in such a state until eventually half the town believes that I eat live squirrels in the woods and try to force the bloody bodies on teenagers which is why you must be extra careful and only go in groups. I informed the boy that this is the time in the relationship that we have to be comfortable with me bringing over my humidifier. I don't think this a normal event in "relationships" but I want to pretend as if that is what everyone does eventually. First the toothbrush, then the change in clothes, then deodorant, then buying high-thread count sheets, finally topped off by bringing over small appliances.

The semester is coming to an end and I am almost 1/4 of a master. I am more masterful right now than I have ever been in my life. I will demand people call me Master when I graduate. I will get my LL Bean tote-bag re-embriodered just to say Master. I will be so powerful with my master's that people will always give me my 2 feet of personal space for fear of coming too close to my overwhelming power. I will never finish this semester, or get my masters, if I don't learn how to cut back on the procrastinating and work a bit more on the concentration / work aspect of it all.
Tuesday, December 2, 2003

Last night I made a turkey. I know it's a bit early for a turkey with Thanksgiving tomorrow and all. But the boy got a free turkey when we were shopping on Friday since he had enough supermarket bonus points. I never had enough to get anything free myself but I guess you rack up a lot if you buy your cigarettes at thr grocery store. He got a little turkey and wanted to make it with me some time in December when we missed eating turkey every second. We put the turkey in the cooler with the ice I had bought for my vodka & tonics. I was supposed to then bring the turkey to my house in the morning and store it in my parents' freezer until we were ready to cook it. But I forgot because Saturday was nice and I went for a walk and I always forget something when I leave his house. So the turkey began to thaw and needed to be cooked by this Friday. My mother volunteered to cook it and give it to him as "leftovers", but I decided I'd deal with my mistake. So a 12 pound turkey 2 days before Thanksgiving it was.

I stopped eating beef and pork over 13 years ago. For a very long time I would not even touch cooked chicken if it had bones in it. I would not touch any raw meat which led many people to think I ate no meat at all rather than did not cook meat at all. Overtime, I got over it. I began eating chicken off the bone. I ate porkchops in Haiti that were the sweetest things ever and make a mean pork loin. I have cooked whole fish. Being creepy about dead animals has slowly lessened in my life. However, a 6 ounce boneless chicken breast is a whole lot different from a 12 pound turket with a neck shoved up its butt and its organs in a paper bag where its neck was once attached to its body. It took me about an hour to do something that most people can accomplish in 20 minutes. I kept on getting do creeped out by the flesh and the organs and the bloody water dripping from it each time I washed it out.

I made potatoes and squash and broccoli. This was very easy to do as vegatables do no bleed or have organs shoved in gutted cavaties. I made gravy which I think is gross since it's basically dead-animal juice transformed into sauce. I think I made it too thick but I wouldn't know since either way it is disgusting to me. And then we carved the turkey.

Carving is not the correct word to use as it seems to be a sort of graceful word to me. It seems precise and lovely. It is how a big roasted animal on a cutting board becomes that nice face-less slice of meat. Carving is something that Martha Stewart does. My boy and I do not carve. We butcher. We tore the leg off, snapping bones. He yanked the wing off, nearly pull the meat form the bone and leaving the bones still attached. He tried to slice one of the breasts, but couldn't seem to get the slices as he wanted them. We were like animals in the savana tearing apart a phesant. We threw the white meat on one plate, the wings, legs, thighs onto another. Finally, I just dug my fingers along the breast plate the pulled the second breast right off the carcas. The bones were immediately brought out to the trash for raccoons and other small woodland creatures to eat.

My turkey was dry. I don't like turkey much anyhow. It's a strange tasting thing. But there was plenty of gravy for the boy to dunk his leg in as he held the bone in his fist and tore the gravy covered meat from the leg. Usually, when I cook something it is a joy to eat it. This was just strange. It went from a bloody pale bird to two plates of meat and a stack of dones. Seriously, Thanksgiving has turkey just so we can feel like animals tearing apart a 12 or, in my parents' case, 29 pound animal and stuff ourselves on meat and other food, followed by ten tons of pumpkin pie.
Wednesday, November 26, 2003

Friday, I was really annoyed with how lazy it seems that everyone around me is. I understand that classmates are interested in politicians and being political and all but they don't have to fit so well into the mold of a incessantly babbling, no-work-doing political type. With both class projects and my job, it felt like I was putting in most of the effort which cuts downs on time to do things just for me like researching a paper.

To top it all off, I looked down at my hands and realized that my rings were missing. I have the tendency to slip them off to wash my hands, if I am typing for a long stretch or generally just to play with them. I quickly checked my pockets, and one of the two were there. It was the nicer one that came in a blue box with a white satin ribbon ring. But my yellow ring, purchased just so I always had a bit of sun-shiny yellow on me, was missing. I figured I dropped it some place between the hour and half morning work-out, quick breakfast, drive to work, running around the building, walking over to the library and back, at the coffee shop or running up and down stairs since my office doesn't have a printer and I have to go up to the computer lab evry time I print something out. I lost my ring and had covered too much ground to go back and find it. I just let it go even though I would have preferred to throw a fit about it.

Saturday night, the boy was supposed to meet me in the city for drinks before the basketball game. After walking about the city with Bess and coming across and verticle scrolling sign with strange messages like "some people don't cook because they don't want to, some people don't because they don't have any place to cook," we settled in for some beers. The boy was running late since he was helping out at his uncle's "store" and I decided that we should skip the first half of the basketball game and socialize instead. A few beers later, we went to get cigarettes so he would stop stealing from Bess. Walking back from the store, a homeless person shaking an empty can asked me what the best nation was. "This nation, I guess." "No, sugar, it's DOnation." We walked by him and I shouted over my shoulder, "that's funny." He shouted back at the boy, "your girl could use Jenny Craig." The boy then walked to the street and was trying to hail down a cop. I'm not sure what the cops could do about an homeless beggar thinking he should criticize a working grad student with a home, but I just walked back to the bar.

We went to the game for most of the second half and the boy was very quiet. I had been insulted and he took it personally. I guess I am used to pretending like it doesn't matter. But he couldn't get it off his mind. However, during a time-out break, there was a contest for ,000 if this regular middle-aged guy from the crowd could make a basket from half-court. He bent down and seemed to hurl it at the hoop, and I doubt that I was the only one thinking it had little chance of going in. But it hit the backboard and then went right it! Everyone stood up and cheered and finally the boy cracked a smile and he was pumping his fits and screaming. The Knicks won but that shot was clearly the highlight even though most of the players probably make more than ,000 a basket.

I got an email on Sunday from my boss that our meeting was cancelled. I couldn't believe I spent most of Firday preparing things for this meeting and we weren't going to meet. I had a coughing fit when I tried to go to sleep and stayed up half the night, finally realizing that I don't have a lingering cold but allergies in November. I blame this on the 500th Indian Summer and the fact that I no longer live in a city but a place with trees and grass and other such plant life that is clearly trying to suffocate me. I was cranky and sat up knitting. The boy woke at one point and wanted to know if he should stay awake with me until I felt better. I told him to go back to bed, because I was in the mood to be miserable alone.

This morning, I checked me school email account The email with the subject "lost ring in my office" was the first I opened. I immediately called the person, believing that the ring was probably someone's diamonds and was definitely not my litle yellow ring. I asked if it was yellow, silver and the lady asked me what shape it was. "Round or something," I replied since it's just a little yellow ring and I never thought much about it. "That's right. Come get it when you have a chance."

That enough to make your day!
Monday, November 24, 2003