Reading, writing and procrastinating

It’s 9:03 a.m. and I have A LOT to do today. The procrastination train keeps on rolling into the station and I have not finished my pattern or sample. I will finish the back today, and block the front and back. Then I have to figure out how I’m going to do the band. I have a few ideas. Time to figure them out!

In the meantime, I’ve been reading a lot. Almost too much? But when you consider I have approximately 200 paid for books on my e-Readers, and almost 50 in my real book tbr stack, I’m in too deep. I also keep checking out books from the library because, reasons.

I signed up to do a 52 books this year challenge, and I am actually….wait for it….ahead of schedule! I have read 32 books this year. So, there is that. It’s not generating money for me, or a 401K or insurance plan, but I am proud of it. I always say I would rather read a book than work out, and although that is not a good thing, it’s true.

I plan to return to the gym this afternoon, but only on the bike. My broken toe is still…broken, but for the first time in three weeks it is feeling a little better.

Instead of working on my pattern, I took a few days off to make a silly hat.

20140717_082049-2I mean, come on, right? A simple striped slouch. The yarn is Takhi Tweed, and I had one ball each in the opposing colors you see. I bought them online for a design submission I never did. When I found the necklace and earring set at a local thrift store, I had to have them. They are made from abalone shells. I plan to cut the beads off the pendant and sew it to the hat. The earrings are my free gift to whoever purchases this bit of pirate/deadhead goodness. That’s assuming I even get in a craft fair this fall.

I want to tell you I have been happy this summer, but it has been difficult. I have delayed on an important project which, if I had just buckled down, could have been done in June. I could have been temping this whole month. So, I am a little mad at myself. Nothing new there.

There are things going on in our lives that I don’t talk about on social media. Family stuff that gets me worried, gets me down. I worry that I will not get this job back, and will have wasted a summer on foolishness. As the days tick by, the worry grows until it is an insurmountable thing that I build up even bigger in my mind, until I am convinced that we won’t have a place to live come December.

Although these are irrational thoughts (I hope?) I can’t help them. Couple that with the fact that I have been seriously ruminating on finding my natural parents before it’s too late. I have all the info I need to fill out for the Florida Children’s Home Society to do a search. But the money is the problem. Yes, they charge. A lot. No, it is not fair or right to be part of a closed adoption in the 1960s with no recourse but to hand over cash to the state to get any info. But there it is.

And it’s tough when your money trickles down to almost nothing. The fear is terrible. I can’t afford to go to the doctor, to get my eye drops I need, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to afford my blood pressure medication. As soon as I finish and mail this project, I am going to Martin County where’s there’s a new store, Style Encore. It’s like Plato’s Closet, but for adults (not teens). I can sell a bunch of my clothes that I can’t wear and never could. We are talking price tags still on them! That should get me a week’s worth of food.

I’m selling a ton of knitting books on Ravelry. DVDs like Chungking Express (to think I am selling a Wong Kar Wai…) on Half.Com. Some clothes on EBay. I hope some of it pans out.

I am not writing about these things to sound depressing or to further sadden myself. I’m trying to relate that I’ve at least done it, managed on less this summer. I haven’t bought much of anything for myself. I stocked up on my skincare and haircare items – which are inexpensive drugstore brands anyway – before the summer started. That was smart. God bless CeraVe and Walgreens bogo special.

I have also come to the realization that I’m over Facebook, completely. I have curtailed my posting and will cut down even more in the future. Sadly, I still need it for craft fair publicity, and I do love keeping in touch with my college sisters. But I am frustrated by all the ads, by everyone posting the same memes over and over again, and by the thing a co-worker and I used to call “Assaults of positivity.” I don’t want or need your inspirational message on a picture of fucking flowers or some lady sitting at the beach. Ugh!

And I’m sick of the fitness brags, for that’s what they are. I’m so happy your workout works for you. But unless you are telling me about a fun song on your gym playlist, I don’t care. It makes me want to exercise less!

Okay, deep breath. That is enough venting. I have to shower and get to work. But I will leave with this: These are the two best movies I’ve watched this summer. The first is on Netflix streaming, the second on Amazon Prime. I highly recommend both.

 

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How to save money!! (well, sort of….)

I’m not going to lie to you. Much like Bananarama sang once upon a time, it’s been a cruel summer. I broke my toe. My “computer reading” glasses broke, and can’t be fixed. Our ceiling started leaking — I mean, really leaking. And it took them a week to fix it. My mother’s beloved dog is dying. My mother-in-law has been in the hospital for weeks with severe complications from diabetes and a probable mini stroke. And much like Simply Red sang, money’s too tight to mention.

So if you will forgive me that opening paragraph of doom and gloom, I want it to be known that I’m still here. Every day is a challenge. I feel a little like I’ve been under house arrest this summer. I have given my car to my husband four out of five workdays a week. The rest I am here. I have, with the exception of the two days a week I go out in cute shorts and T-shirts and sandals (three sets), worn the same three ratty ripped T-shirts and shorts (and don’t forget the forgiving yoga pants!) around the apartment all summer.

And though I have less than three weeks — I mean, a LOT less, to get my pattern and sample in the mail to Knitscene, I’m sitting here attempting to be the avatar of penny pinching. Now, THAT’S a laugh! But this is mainly for the one person who reads this. Gina, this one is for you.

I regret all the years I spent money on things I didn’t need, and never used. I am mainly talking books, DVDs, records (or CDs or MP3s, call them what you will) and clothes. It’s sad that it’s taken me being in my mid-late 40s to see the errors of my ways, but better late than never, right?

My number one tip: LIBRARY.

The library has been my one comfort this summer. I joined a reading program that gives me a free umbrella (I don’t have one. Seriously.) and free tickets to one of our minor league baseball games in August. All I have to do? Read five books. DONE.

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The first one is a manwha (Korean manga) trilogy, so I did actually make it to five. Now, here’s the thing: If you saw the stack of books I own and have to read, and then add to it the ones I have on my Kindle AND Nook (I know. I know I had a problem.) you would realize I will never finish them all. It’s really bad.

But I’ve learned from my mistakes. Every .99 cent book I purchased just because it was……99 cents. It adds up. BUT. What I do now is go to the library, read what I have, and get free books on Friday for Nook (if they are any good) or with the Kindle First program (one book a month, at the beginning of the month — this month I got a new book by one of my favorite authors, Megan Chance. Woohoo!). I have also discovered Open Library, which once you go down THAT rabbit hole, you will never return. All the 1970s gothic romances I read to distraction? Most of them are there. Yes, they are scanned in or uploaded and translated with tons of mistakes, so it’s kind of like reading Esperanto, but I. Don’t. Care. If you have an e-reader, check it out, as Dr. Steve Brule would say!

Also good at the library? Music and videos. Here is what I picked up two days ago, along with FREE samples from Sephora.

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So yeah, I’m kind of bummed that Bong Joon Ho’s Snowpiercer (a.k.a. the only movie I want to see this summer) isn’t playing, but I can watch Mother thanks to the library. Thor the Dark World was decidedly NOT good, but at least it was free? Right? Sorry, not enough Loki or sense. And I really did like the first one. As for Master and Commander….it’s a movie I’ve been wanting to see for ages, and it’s not on any streaming service. It was on BBC America the other day, but I like my movies without commercials every five minutes. I have seen so many bits of this movie, but never the whole thing. I love Peter Weir, I used to adore Paul Bettany before he started making godawful science fiction movies, and I can deal with the killer whale farting in a wind tunnel – which is how I kindly refer to Russell Crowe.

I also got Vampire Weekend’s latest from last year, some Bach and Michael Kiwanuka. You can actually upload these to your iTunes, and if that’s illegal, frankly I don’t care. When I count up all the money I’ve given to recording artists over the years, it adds up. So there. I would also stress if you have an iTunes account, get their “Free Song of the Week.” Are they all winners? NO. But I’ve gotten enough good stuff to make a really fun playlist for work. I mean, for work when I have it. I really want to work again, can you tell? You can also get the free songs (and apps) at Starbucks. And you don’t even have to buy anything!

My point is, if you want to try new music, you’d be amazed at what the library has. So far this summer I’ve checked out St. Vincent’s latest, Tegan and Sara, Lucius, The Head and the Heart, plus lots of classical. It’s a great way to take a chance on something new without forking over the money, esp. if you don’t have something like Spotify. Which I also recommend.

I think I will leave it with my LIBRARY tip today, because I covered a lot of ground. But remember: Knitting books (I never should have bought), magazines (I never should have bought, but I’ve been good with this), audiobooks (if you are so inclined) — they are all there. Never buy these things again. If you want to buy a book, I’m not saying not to. I want The French Cat for my birthday, for goodness sakes!
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I just mean, save your shekels to get something you really want.

That’s all I’ve got for now. Time to stop procrastinating and watch Master and Commander while knitting furiously. I’ve given links to all the things I talked about above (just hover over the colored text), so I hope I’ve given you some usable tips from a voracious culture junkie.

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July Flame

July starts tomorrow, and clearly I’m down to posting once a month. That’s okay. Most of the thoughts that run through my head all day aren’t fit to print.

I am ashamed to say I wasted the entire month of June. I DID start my pattern, but didn’t get far. I have less than a month to finish it and ship it off now.

Can I do it? I don’t know. I know I have to, but beyond that…..Understand, my middle name is Procrastinator. And no, my first name ain’t Baby.

I do this all the time, and I know it about myself. I was soooo bad in college; understand, I was that person staying up all night on Jolt Cola and No Doz. I should have just mainlined crank. But it seemed to work, so I’ve stuck with it.

But today, I will work. And tomorrow, too. And I will cross it off my to-do list. I think my biggest problem was deciding on the construction of the garment. I believe in seams – I hate in-the-round knitting, because seams really stabilize your work and give it a definite shape. But so many people are on the in-the-round bandwagon.

However, I got an e-mail (just a newsletter I subscribe to) from one of my favorite designers last week. And she confirmed my belief that seams are the way to go. Why do I question myself all the time? Why do I care so much what other people think even though I say I don’t?

That’s a discussion for another time.

Last week was actually Busy! and Eventful! I went to one of those wine-drinking and painting classes with my old BN friends last Thursday. I had no idea what to expect, and even though they didn’t give us our promised wine (looked like you had to BYOB – oh well, I was driving anyway), I came up the the sunflowers on the right:

The picture on the left is one someone painted of me in college.

The picture on the left is one someone painted of me in college.

I think the coolest thing about the class was that for the two hours you were there, you really had to concentrate on what you were doing. There wasn’t a lot of chatter between my group, we were all engrossed in our work. Everyone ended up with something totally different, and when I say everyone I mean the entire 50+ people there. I will tell you in all honesty that I consider myself creative, but I am by no means a painter. However, I found out two interesting things during the class. I paint ambidextrously, and I was more interested in texture and color than in getting my picture “just right.” Bottom line, I am actually proud of my picture!

In other news, I have not lost any weight this summer, I have actually gained a pound or two. Or two pounds. Say it however you like. I have been going to the gym, but I am not burning calories at the rate of my friends who use the same Polar watch heart rate device I own. They show off their 300 to 1000 calorie burning sessions, and I can barely get the the 200 mark. But I’m trying.

I also broke my toe last week, which has slowed me down, but it’s getting better. Then, the A/C stopped working. It was fixed, but then my ceiling started leaking. And a tropical storm is expected today and it’s not fixed yet.

I am trying to keep it together but I find I am getting stressed out about the small shit. It has always been so with me. But seriously: A leaking ceiling in hurricane season is BAD.

Understand: I have enough money to take me to the end of September if I’m lucky, but if I don’t get this job back I am fucked. And though I’ve been trying to be positive, the nightmares about unemployment are starting up, and fear is creeping in.

I hate to go out on a sad note, so I will say that though I am not going to do it now, I do want to write a post about ways I have found to save money this summer. I am becoming quite the thrifty girl. And one them is just this: go to the park. You heard me, go to the effing park!

We have so many local parks, and even though it is hotter than Satan at a barbecue in the summer, if you go in the evening and there is a breeze, it is heaven. Jon and I went on Friday night for a food truck invasion event, and we’re going to do it again, but with our own picnic. We sat and ate and I told him about a depressing Danish movie I watched with Mads Mikkelsen. Well, Mads was IN it, he didn’t sit and watch it with me. Sigh. I think THAT alone would cure my depression!

So in a nutshell, this is what my summer has constituted of thus far: Depressing foreign movies!

And Jersey Boys, but I had to take mom to something.

I’m going to close now because I haven’t much else to say, and just sitting here tapping these keys is a form of procrastination. But the selfie onslaught continues. I just can’t seem to stop. Once you find your good angles, you never want another person to take your photo again, because nobody does it better….than you.

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Where May Went

When I look back and see I haven’t posted anything for the month of May, I am not surprised. There were many times I wanted to (I know I say that ALL the time), but I had told my husband at the end of April that I needed May to be by myself. To figure some things out, to get organized.

So, it’s June 5, how’d I do?

It’s funny, but I find it hard to believe it was just a little more than a month ago that went to my college reunion. I was still on a post-reunion high for several weeks in May. I am so glad I went, so glad I had the opportunity that was denied me five years ago.

I always believe that people will surprise you, and they do. During my three-month tenure back at the paper, one person came up to me in the cafeteria and told me she had heard that my dad passed, and she wanted to offer her condolences. Someone I had seen in the building for 17 years prior to my eight-year absence, but who I had never talked to before. Not an enemy, certainly, but not a friend either. I was extremely touched and thanked her. But how funny is it that people who had been my close co-workers, who had gone to my goodbye drinkathon party eight years before, said nothing.

After the reunion, I got an e-mail from a member of my class. Again, not a close friend, but certainly not otherwise. She is very successful, and lives a much different lifestyle than I do. But she wanted to tell me she wished she had more time to talk to me at the reunion. It was very sweet, and I was a little shocked. She probably reached out to others, too, but again, people will surprise you.

But I haven’t seen many people the past month. The lifestyle I have chosen for the summer is fairly solitary. I am not complaining. I do get a little lonely sometimes, but Ringo is always here to keep me company. Yes, he sleeps about 20 hours a day, but he’s an old cat. I get it.

Before I left my job, I had a lunch date with the two women I worked for. I felt so uncomfortable at the pricey restaurant on Palm Beach, because I hadn’t been there in years. And I was feeling down on myself while I dined with two very skinny girls. When one asked what I was doing for the summer, and I told her, she seemed shocked. I don’t think either of them understood what it is like to live on a VERY fixed income. The one who originally asked then wanted to know what I wanted to do. I told her how much I had enjoyed my job these past three months, and how I wanted very badly to return in the fall. Brown nosing, you understand. But she practically shouted at me, “What do you REALLY WANT TO DO WITH YOUR LIFE?”

Well damn, girl, first, it’s none of your business. You haven’t spoken three paragraphs to me since I’ve been here. But I told her instead I wanted to design knitwear, and had a few irons in the fire. But I couldn’t make a living from it!

Fast forward to last month. I got an e-mail from Knitscene that my design for the Spring 2015 issue had been accepted.

Inlet

I don’t mind putting my sad sketch in here, because no one reads this anyway, and I am not scared of being copied.

To be honest, I was gobsmacked when I got the acceptance e-mail. I feel like I’ve been trying to get in Knitscene FOREVER, but this is only my second attempt. I guess I should be proud, and excited, and I am. I’m also a little scared to death, because now I have to make this thing! Truth: I haven’t knit a garment since 2009. Once I put on 30 pounds, it just didn’t seem prudent anymore.

I have until the end of July to do this, and I have to get started TODAY. Yes, today. Today, I will figure out some maths and cast on. Or so I tell myself. I think I can. I think I can.

You see, when you’re home alone you have no one to answer to but yourself, and you’re a procrastinator with wandering attention like me, you get bored easily.

So what did I do in May? I watched a lot of movies from the library and Netflix. I read a lot of books that I have stacked in my closet and need to finish and donate. I cleaned obsessively, and I cooked a ton of vegetables. Roasting in the oven is my thing.

I said I would exercise, and I did. For one week. Then I quit and now I actually sit here in my gym clothes again, determined to go after I finish this missive. I think I can. I think I can.

It’s been hard, too. I have such a limited budget, it is difficult to buy the food that I’m responsible for some weeks. I’m going to a movie with some of my old BN buddies this weekend, and I had to budget for it, too. Buying something for $1 at the thrift store becomes a treat.

But I’m doing my best. I will admit I live in fear everyday that I won’t get my job back in October. I have to know by August, because I only have enough money to get through September. Yes, my husband can help me, but only so much. I have bills that are my responsibility to pay each month. If August comes and I find out I have to scramble, then it’s time to punt.

When I went to that lunch date back in early May, the consensus seemed to be that everything would stay the same and I would be back. But things have a funny way of changing, and out of sight often means out of mind. I wish I could say I felt confident that things will remain the same, but when you’ve been through the work hell that I have these past years, you don’t know.

What I do know is this: If I had stayed at that awful place I walked out of, I would have an ulcer by now and would never have submitted to Knitscene. My confidence would have been shot.

I am learning, if nothing else, to like and accept myself more each day. Even though I shuffle around the apartment in old T-shirts and shorts, I’ve never felt more attractive, and less at odds with my looks. I think it has something to do with not having to compare myself to others every day.

Or maybe I’ve just learned my angles, and how to photograph myself better!

PicMonkey Collage

This is me. This is who I am, at almost 47 years of age. I have so much more to do, I have an uncertain future to plan for. But I’m doing the best I can, every day.

Okay, It’s 9 a.m. Off to the gym!

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Winging It

When I was more active in the writing game (being a member of Romance Writers of America, going to conferences, etc.) there were some terms that bugged the crap out of me because they were so twee.

“Are you a plotter or a pantzer?” was my public enemy number one. Plotters are planners who write everything down on Post-it Notes or outlines, they have huge corkboard maps of plot points and a dossier on every character. Pantzers fly by the seat of their pants. They wing it.

I have wung it all my life. I know it. I admit it. I am not ashamed of it, it’s part of my genetic makeup that comes from who knows where (as a child of a closed adoption, I have no clue). I had a full year to study for Jeopardy!, and instead I crammed the almanac two weeks before filming. I meant to lose 30 pounds before my college reunion, but the months kept turning into weeks and…..forget it. You know the rest.

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Time does have a funny way of passing….

My reunion went by too fast. If I calculate the math (hahahaha!) it comes out to 30 hours. That’s it. A little more than an hour per year to catch up. It wasn’t enough.

I sailed through four years of college by winging it. I always made good grades in school without much effort, so I thought I could do it in college, too. I was wrong. It took a lot of shit grades my freshman year to understand.

I graduated with a low B average. That was an accomplishment for me. If you saw the grades I got in algebra and biology, you would understand. But I did get an A in Deviant Behavior. Stop laughing. Really. Stop it.

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Can you see the squirrels playing in the first photo? I love the lions at the fountain. And honey was sweet to stand for a blurry photo.

I was sick a lot in college. I had kidney stones and lady problems that resulted in two surgeries my senior year. I had an operation two days before I walked on stage to get my diploma, and I could barely stand, let alone take steps.

I write these things not to say “poor, poor pitiful me,” but to show that even though I went through a lot and put myself through even more, those four years were the happiest of my life. I’ve said it for 25 years and I mean it to this day.

But my college experience was different than a lot of my classmates. In truth, we all have different experiences, and divergent perceptions of what happened. I am always fascinated by the idea of identity, how we carve out who we are and what we like, what we believe and what we stand for. And how we reconcile all the things we did in the past with who we are now.

For me, college was about hanging with boys in bands. Going to as many concerts as I could and making sure I was in the front row every time. It was drinking more than I should have, but not nearly as much as others, and doing stupid stuff when I did indulge.

Put aside all my endless nattering and philosophizing and what I’m trying to say is I’m glad I was there. Because I was, even though I found out this weekend I was NOT in the freshman class photo, or in the graduation one! Where in the HELL was I? I swear, I don’t know. Probably hiding in some nook or cranny listening to Echo and the Bunnymen on my Walkman. But I was sad this weekend, too, even though I hid it from everyone but my husband and one of my closest friends.

I was sad for all the professors who meant so much to me but were no longer there. I remember the one who passed away after my freshman year, but gave me a bunch of his records. I still have them. The one who put up with my flibbertigibbet behavior, like the time I spilled cherry Kool-Aid all over my completed paper on Mary Shelley. It was done on a typewriter, so there was no way I could replicate it – I had to turn it in all red and gooey. And she laughed at me and wrote a funny note on that hot mess, but still gave me a good grade.

I miss the professor I worked for. We had some laughs. He’s not dead, but, still. I hand-cranked 500 mimeographed syllabus sheets for him, and sniffed every single one. You can bet my diploma on it.

But mostly, I missed my friends who weren’t there. I kept in touch with them for several years, even if I was the only one sending letters. Some of us even got together all the way into the 2000s. One of them passed away. But time happens and the tide rolls in and out and people lose touch. I blame myself a little bit for these things, even though they are beyond my control. I blame myself for a lot of things I probably shouldn’t.

I missed my friend the artist. The one I haven’t talked to since Hurricane Katrina. She was my best friend for almost 20 years. She hated school; made no secret of it. Disliked almost everyone, and thought they disliked her and laughed at her expense. But that wasn’t necessarily the case. I can’t count the times people asked me about her this weekend, or said how much they liked her and how outrageously talented they thought she was. Which is true. See what I mean about perception?

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There was an interesting art show display going on in the wings of the auditorium. I looked at the identification and it was done by a dude? Sorry, I lost his name.

The best part of my weekend was taking honey for a walk around campus. Showing him a few secret places I remember fondly. The theatre where I used to show the classic film series one year – I got the job when one of the above-mentioned professors leaned out of his office one night and asked me and some compatriots if any of us knew how to run a projector. I was drunk  and told him I was born running a projector. It was a lie, but I learned how on my own. I wung it.

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I used to show movies here.

I showed honey a photo of the women’s bathroom (because let’s get real, I couldn’t take him there!) where I would hide my books during exams, under the couch cushions. Then, I’d take a huge Coke to class and have to pee copiously throughout the test. I’d just sidle down to the ladies room, grab my book and stand on the toilet seat in a stall. Sort of an open-book test, know what I’m saying?

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My couch and stall “open book” area.

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Why did I take a photo of a dripping sink? Because some things DON’T change in 25 years….

I showed him the hill I fell down, spraining my ankle and putting me on crutches for a week. I did not show him the pothole I stepped in a week later, finally breaking it. That thing is long gone, and on a street I don’t remember. Was bourbon involved? Maybe…..

We even drove by the site of my infamous car wreck. I still miss that red Thunderbird. I loved it more than most of my old boyfriends combined.

The lake I used  to sit in the middle of, on a paddle boat with a wine cooler and a Judith Krantz or Jackie Collins novel, was hard to see because they’re building a new chapel. Ahem. Clearly, I needed some Jesus back then, and more cultured reading material. But no – I love trash and I always have.

And my favorite place, the library. I remember falling asleep on the third floor couch when I was supposed to be cramming for a final. Waking up while the Japanese students hovered over me, laughing and pointing and trying to wake me up.

There’s a kitty in the library now. I think her name is Libris. She crawled right up behind my head and stroked my hair, just like Ringo. She found Jon and me in the magazine stacks, where they had lots of stuff from 1946 but no 1970 Vogue magazines. Did I read them when I should have been studying? Don’t judge me too harshly when I answer in the affirmative.

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This is the library cat. Yes, as soon as I walked in I asked the librarian where she was. But she found us.

 

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A thousand books and I couldn’t find the 1970s Vogues. DAMN.

 

And I got a little teary walking into the hall where all my English and history classes were. Thankful for all I learned, for the books I read, even the ones I hated (I’m looking at you, James Joyce). But missing those who are gone forever.

You can go back, and you can reminisce and you can get nostalgic. But I think of that episode of Mad Men, the finale of the first season. The Carousel, the one about the slide projector. How you can go back, but there’s such a painful ache when you do.

I felt it all weekend. I miss my friends. I miss the first man I ever loved, even though I’m happily married now. I miss my off-campus townie friends. The goths and the freaks and the wasteoids. Man, we had some fun.

Honey went on a little drive and took a photo of St. Joseph’s church, downtown. The giant spire reaching to the sky, the gorgeous stained glass. “Yes, I went there,” I told him. “My goth friends and I went to a production of Handel’s Messiah during Christmas. I’ll never forget it. A bunch of scary boys in black with crosses and earrings, and me.”

Who was I in college? I still don’t know. Was I the bad girl? The crazy bitch? The funny one? The dumb blonde?  Was I all of those things, and the me deep down inside, the one who still feels things too deeply, who internalizes every slight, who deflects every compliment? People told me they remembered me as confident and stylish, but in my mind I was foolish and awkward. Where does the truth lie?

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So much beautiful art on campus.

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These embroidered birds are in the library lobby.

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My favorite picture, in the auditorium.

Jon calls these my “Admiral Stockton Moments.” Who am I? Why am I here?

I don’t know. All I do know is I had fun. I’m glad I can look back and say that.

 

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How I want to spend my summer vacation.

It’s hard to believe my temp job is winding down. I have three more full weeks of work, and during the last week I’ll take Friday off to go to my college reunion. I’ll come back on Monday and release my section (something I do every Monday) and then, who knows? I might stay the whole week and get some small task, or they may tell me to hit the road, Jack. I have two paydays left not including the one I get tomorrow. And not including the one I get after I leave, so I guess I should count that one. But still.

How has it been? It’s been good, in a lot of ways. I’ve worked VERY hard (I stayed two hours late last Friday, and I’m not hourly – well, I am but I’m not. Gah, it’s complicated). I feel a sense of accomplishment. Since I left my job at the yarn barn in 2009, I’ve not had that feeling. Barnes and Noble was a gulag, and the annuity firm was so easy I could have done it in my sleep. We won’t count anything after that! I’m doing hard, detail-oriented work and getting paid WHAT I DESERVE. I work in a building where I am not afraid to sit on the toilet seats. Where there’s a full cafeteria with lovely employees and good, nourishing food. I sit at a desk and listen to my iPod while I work all day.

HOWEVER. There’s no denying a lot of the long-time employees are little whinging babies who bitch and moan about everything, all while doing very little work. Some of these people come in at 10 a.m. and leave at 4 p.m. It must be nice to work bankers’ hours, I wouldn’t know. I have worked places where, frankly, the boss stood at the door with a cell phone clock checking that you didn’t walk out ONE MINUTE early. So you’ll understand that I come in at 8:30 everyday and leave after 5 p.m. It’s just how I am.

And there’s also no denying that what I’m doing is putting together the society pages. When I go to my college reunion and everyone asks what I’ve been doing recently and I say, “Oh, putting together the Palm Beach society pages for the paper,” there will be a hush of shock. Even more so than when they found out about the knitting. I am the last person you would think would be doing this. And if I’m being honest, I have a lot of cynicism and contempt for these people and their checkbook charity. Is it misguided? Is it from my natural distaste with authority and dislike for rich white people? Was I just offended with the cover I had to put together with Paris Hilton sitting next to a kitten? Don’t ask. There were so many pussy jokes I could have told, but I zipped it!

But those are my issues. And there’s also the fact that I’m not “the face” of the section. The two pretty younger girls are. So, while I do all the grunt work….well, you get it. But again, I’m getting paid a very good wage. So, what happens next? Do I get called back in the fall? Do I want to? I think I do, if only because I need that money, and working for seven months I’d make as much as I did in a full year at my last steady job. Seriously. But that’s IF. Stay tuned. I just don’t know.

So, I attempt to make it to October on my savings. Which is not much. I am going to give my car to my husband to use for the summer. His is falling apart and guzzles gas like a 1991 Nissan SUV tends to.  If I can have it one day a week, that’s fine – unless I get another temp job…..

Staying at home is what I want to do. I am not antisocial. I am not agoraphobic. But I am a homebody, and an introvert who enjoys being alone. I have a gym here that I can use for free. I have some weight I need to lose that CLEARLY didn’t come off before the reunion in three weeks, so fuck it. I have the whole summer! I have books and books and books to read. I have plenty of movies in the Netflix queue. I have a pussy (much like Paris!) I want to spend the summer with. He is 14 years old this July, and I need to spend time with my sweet Ringo.

I need to figure out how not to sweat the small stuff while not reading How Not to Sweat the Small Stuff. I need to thrift shop, but buy little. I need to decide if I want to vend this fall at Stitch Rock (I do). I need to rethink my vending presentation. I need to sew some more. And organize. And sell some yarn, and yarn books. It’s time to let a lot of it GO, and free myself in the process. I need to design, but only if I feel inspired.

While I haven’t talked about it, I’ve had a shitty few weeks. A car accident I’d rather not go into (maybe later). Neighbors downstairs complaining I do too much laundry on the weekends. Because I guess they’re just so entitled and non-working that it BOTHERS their delicate sensibility.

But I will be okay. I just need May to regroup.

BTW, The World Figure Skating Championships were last weekend, not that you’d know it. Sigh. It’s a sad thing the way they’ve killed my sport. But here’s the picture of the Ice Dance top three. Please to notice Nathalie Pechalat’s face, on the far right. My husband and I got into it a few weeks ago because he claimed “You just can’t fake it, not even for a moment, can you?” We were at a ballpark and there was an entitled old white man I got into it with. As one does. Well, he’s right. I can’t. And neither can poor Nathalie. All those years and she and Fabian have but two world bronze medals. Beaten by the baby Italians in their last event, ever. They should have retired like they said they would after the Olympics. No one needs that much disappointment! Oh, well. 10153295_755673764457567_2059007513_n

As The Skating Lesson said on Facebook, will we ever see anything this gloriously French again? I don’t think so.

It helps if you’ve read The Little Prince. Believe me, this program confuses some people. Ah Fabian, I will miss you and your sexy pants. You are now, and forever, my Michael Fassbender sur le patinage!

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I watched the Oscars and all I got was insomnia and a hangover

Sometimes I go a while without posting. You know it, I know it. And then I swan back in and cover the Oscars, oh, four days after the event, when all the memes are played out. I don’t care! I’m old, old I tell ya, and I’ll do it my way or no way at all. I am now serving it up, bullet-point style.

*I am working until the end of April. Did I mention that? I can’t remember. But I am. And I’m actually working where I used to work for 17 years, and where my husband works now. Yes, the newspaper.

What’s it like? Well, it’s funny how people all look a little older, but not a lot. I’ve been gone eight years, so you get that incremental chunk of time to play with. I’m sure I look older, too. The big thing I kept hearing from people is “Everyone says you changed your hair color! You’re a blonde now!” Um, not exactly. I’m a blonde with four inches of grey and brown roots, if you must.

I know I’m about twenty pounds heavier, too. But that’s a story for another day. I work hard every day and am getting paid more than twice as much as I have at ANY JOB in the past six years. I don’t include the yarn barn in that equation, since I actually got a fair wage there, and great perks.

My plan is to sock as much of the money away as I can, which won’t be hard, and live on it over the summer. Don’t think I can’t do it. If you knew how little I have been living on, you’d understand. Maybe I’ll self-publish my two novels this summer. It could happen!!

Some people are nice and happy to see me, while others, mainly in my own department, are not. Do I care? No. They can suck it. They are all little babies who have been pampered way too long. I’ve worked at places where hobos where having sex in the bathroom. Your little bitch face doesn’t bother me. No, seriously. I’ve CHANGED. This last job from hell really did a number on me, but made me stand up for myself and I’m damned proud. I’m also thankful for this opportunity, and if others are jealous are pissed because I’m in their little kingdom, oh well. Sucks to be you!

*Oscars! I continued my annual drunken tweeting extravaganza, and got some new followers, and some retweets and favorites. But the South African Wine Commission, and why? Reasons, I guess.

Man, the show was boring. I also tried to make hashtag #JackWildRealness a thing, but no one bit, so I’ll just have  to pour a pint  out for our poor lost little boy. If you loved Jack like I loved Jack, say hey.

The dresses? Eh. No one seemed to like color this year. Except this radiant creature.

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Look, I’m not being sarcastic when I say, I want to be June when I grow up. Or Judi Dench. You know, a woman of a certain age who is holding it together, but natural-like. You have to hand it to Tadashi Soji, that man can dress the non-size 2s of the world. Also, GREEN. Or as I’m calling it from now on, “Squibb Green.”

Having said that. I won’t hear a negative word said about Miss Lady Kim Novak. Here’s a great blog piece on the issue. Actually, a great blog in general. Scroll for an elegant defense of former best picture winner Gigi.

I was delighted when my description of this as a “Degas Ballernina” got lots of likes and “oh, you’re so rights!” on a popular fashion blog.

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Because, um, of course. I did NOT like the dress from the front at first, but when I saw her doing the twirly-whirlys, well, I was sold. THANK GAWD she won. Love to June, and Sally Hawkins, too (WHO MUST PLAY CHRISSIE HYNDE IN A BIOPIC OF THE PRETENDERS, I AM YELLING, BUT AMIRITE?!)  but I was in fear a JLaw double whammy was going to happen.

I thought the PRETTIEST woman at the dance was Jared Leto’s mom. For reals.

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When I see something like this, first I add it to my Pinterest page (of course), then I congratulate myself for sticking with the root grow-out process. It ain’t easy, but I feel like myself, for a change.

After the party is the after party, as RKells sez, and if my spirit animal the drunken hobo soul of Nick Nolte couldn’t be there, I’m glad my natural birth parents could.

2014 Vanity Fair Oscar Party Hosted By Graydon Carter - Inside

Why oh why did they give me up for adoption?

So, that was the night that was, and if you joined me for it, thanks. It was fun! More fun than the show. I have had more fun tweeting during the Olympics and Oscars than I have in a long while. I’m ready to trash Facebook and move on to the other, more fun social medias for good.

Also, apparently this happened. Is it way harsh, Tai? You be the judge.

But please. Hashtag #JackWildRealness. Help me make this a THING, people!

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