The one credit thingy: My professor couldn't be nicer. Well, he could, but...Anyway, he is going to teach me code and I am going to develop a website for my art work. I've had enough interest generated that I need to have a site to direct people to. So, the one credit thingy might actually turn out to be a good hassle to go through.
Last night: I am literally running to get all the signatures to have the independent study approved before I have to drive the hour to BPU. My advisor asks about the trip dates to Greece. I tell him. I then tell him Computer Science Prof is willing to give me an incomplete if I don't finish before my trip and I will finish the class upon my return.
He tells me, if the class isn't finished before May 19th (graduation day) I won't be a May grad, I will be a August grad.
...
...
Seriously?!?!?!?
I wasn't told that.
Obviously not an option. This whole getting a degree and simply trying to better oneself and oh, I don't know, graduate- seriously. Go through the steps, get the paper, get the debt, start paying. Ta dah! How difficult should that be?
I spent most of yesterday, before hearing this news, thinking maybe I shouldn't go. Pay off my car, pay off some debt, move.
In the one hour drive after hearing the new news from my advisor I decide this is what I will do.
I get to class and talk to my prof. He says, he didn't know about the deadline and I should go on my trip and we will get it finished in time.
Okay.
So confused. Things shouldn't be this difficult.
Needless to say I listened to Rage Against the Machine for two hours last night, both on my way to and from class. RATM is my, I've had a shit day, music.
Today, not so shitty. Good mood. Applied for two positions at High Faluton Universities out east. Nothing improves a mood like aiming and going for the possibility of the impossible.
I promise the mood and tone of the postings will improve soon. Promise. Swear. Cause, I'm even sick of me.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
being comfortable is a bitch
So, this is where my head has been: nowhere attached to my body.
With everything that has happened since December 14th, ( my love moving, no new job, not graduating in December, thesis nightmare, income nightmare, living situation...)my mind has not been in the present-tense. Nope. It's been all in the future-tense. As in: Where am I going? What am I going to be doing? What the hell? What the fuck? And alrighty then. I realize some of those are not in the future-tense, but play along, will ya? Thanks.
Have you ever met someone, had a conversation with someone, met someone who just makes you re-think and reevaluate everything, and also manages to do it in the very best way? Well, that's kind of been what Mr. London has done to and for me and yet, he has no clue about this role he has played. He got a job, he moves in four months to another country and he's not taking anything other than his clothes and his computer with him. Nothing else. A professorship at King's College in Chemical Engineering. How awesome is that? Frustrating, sure, but I can't deny that's it is also pretty awesome.
I've been thinking about moving for over a year now. Finish school and move. Move where? Not sure. I had some ideas in mind: Madison, New York, LA, Europe, somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here. Just. Not. Here. I'm tired of here. I need a change, a fresh start. Then Mr. London tells me he is moving to London. You all already know about that, no need to repeat it. Okay, so I could move. I could move to London. I could and I would. I still haven't had the talk with him because I haven't seen him. Spoken on the phone and pretty much laid enough hints out that the only one missing was the anvil hitting his head labeled "hint." But, it's a conversation I want to have in person, you know, so I can actually see his head explode. However, regardless of if it's London, or the next college town, I want out of here. I need a change. I am far too comfortable here. Comfort can be a good thing, but it can also be a killer. I mean, why do we hit the snooze button three times in the morning? Because our bed is comfortable. The recliner? Same thing. And the same can be said for jobs, apartments, friends, relationships, and cities in which we reside. I am far too comfortable in my job, apartment, city, and relationships. Comfort means I don't get up and I don't do what needs to be done. I'm comfortable. A person needs to be uncomfortable for anything to be accomplished, for change to come.
So. I am so friggin ready to move. To get on with the rest of my life. To move. To move on, to start the next chapter. I want to move by August so desperately bad. So incredibly desperately bad. What's stopping me? Money. That damn 'ol Washington and lack thereof that aren't staring back at me. I have far too much debt to take with me anywhere. If it wasn't for the debt (as in credit cards) (and student loans, but I am on the twenty year plan on those, so I'm good.) I would be gone. Adios, see ya, I won't be back.
I'm actually thinking about not taking my trip to Greece and paying off my car with the funds and then applying the now defunct car payment to the plastic, but I also think several people would kill me if I did that, including myself come May.
I have pretty much all of my books, CD's, and DVD's on half.com and craigslist trying to hock those onto others. But then I was looking around the old apartment yesterday it occurred to me: other than my bookshelves, a hand carved cedar chest, my artwork and art supplies, a few mementos, and the contents of my bedroom and my laptop, I don't really need anything else. Everything else can and could be replaced. I want all of the material items to be gone. (I just knocked on something. Cause as much as I want them gone, I don't want them to be *poof* gone, as in a fire, flood, robbery. More of a garage sell, gone.)
If my ass isn't in London come August, then I am really thinking about my ass moving to Austin. Why Austin? Why not? It's warm, artsy, eclectic, and there is a great school and a graduate program I am interested in. I'm tempted at this point to simply move, have a few months in the bank, and not have a plan. Rent a hotel room and well, I'm pretty sure I can get a job as a waitress or a bartender. Just guessing on that one, but pretty sure. I find not having a plan to be almost comforting. I mean, how often do plans ever workout? Um.....never. So, why have one?
I don't know. I think the universe sends us messages and signals if we are aware and listening to them and frankly, between Mr. London, the job offer falling through, (which I actually think is for the best) all of the trouble with school, debt, the art going somewhere and the writing going nowhere, and all of the other things I can't think of in 70 WPM, I have pretty much felt like the universe has been screaming at me. It's time to stop ignoring it.
Future post: ways in which I am whoring myself out that doesn't require having my legs in the air...or around my head...or..
With everything that has happened since December 14th, ( my love moving, no new job, not graduating in December, thesis nightmare, income nightmare, living situation...)my mind has not been in the present-tense. Nope. It's been all in the future-tense. As in: Where am I going? What am I going to be doing? What the hell? What the fuck? And alrighty then. I realize some of those are not in the future-tense, but play along, will ya? Thanks.
Have you ever met someone, had a conversation with someone, met someone who just makes you re-think and reevaluate everything, and also manages to do it in the very best way? Well, that's kind of been what Mr. London has done to and for me and yet, he has no clue about this role he has played. He got a job, he moves in four months to another country and he's not taking anything other than his clothes and his computer with him. Nothing else. A professorship at King's College in Chemical Engineering. How awesome is that? Frustrating, sure, but I can't deny that's it is also pretty awesome.
I've been thinking about moving for over a year now. Finish school and move. Move where? Not sure. I had some ideas in mind: Madison, New York, LA, Europe, somewhere, anywhere that wasn't here. Just. Not. Here. I'm tired of here. I need a change, a fresh start. Then Mr. London tells me he is moving to London. You all already know about that, no need to repeat it. Okay, so I could move. I could move to London. I could and I would. I still haven't had the talk with him because I haven't seen him. Spoken on the phone and pretty much laid enough hints out that the only one missing was the anvil hitting his head labeled "hint." But, it's a conversation I want to have in person, you know, so I can actually see his head explode. However, regardless of if it's London, or the next college town, I want out of here. I need a change. I am far too comfortable here. Comfort can be a good thing, but it can also be a killer. I mean, why do we hit the snooze button three times in the morning? Because our bed is comfortable. The recliner? Same thing. And the same can be said for jobs, apartments, friends, relationships, and cities in which we reside. I am far too comfortable in my job, apartment, city, and relationships. Comfort means I don't get up and I don't do what needs to be done. I'm comfortable. A person needs to be uncomfortable for anything to be accomplished, for change to come.
So. I am so friggin ready to move. To get on with the rest of my life. To move. To move on, to start the next chapter. I want to move by August so desperately bad. So incredibly desperately bad. What's stopping me? Money. That damn 'ol Washington and lack thereof that aren't staring back at me. I have far too much debt to take with me anywhere. If it wasn't for the debt (as in credit cards) (and student loans, but I am on the twenty year plan on those, so I'm good.) I would be gone. Adios, see ya, I won't be back.
I'm actually thinking about not taking my trip to Greece and paying off my car with the funds and then applying the now defunct car payment to the plastic, but I also think several people would kill me if I did that, including myself come May.
I have pretty much all of my books, CD's, and DVD's on half.com and craigslist trying to hock those onto others. But then I was looking around the old apartment yesterday it occurred to me: other than my bookshelves, a hand carved cedar chest, my artwork and art supplies, a few mementos, and the contents of my bedroom and my laptop, I don't really need anything else. Everything else can and could be replaced. I want all of the material items to be gone. (I just knocked on something. Cause as much as I want them gone, I don't want them to be *poof* gone, as in a fire, flood, robbery. More of a garage sell, gone.)
If my ass isn't in London come August, then I am really thinking about my ass moving to Austin. Why Austin? Why not? It's warm, artsy, eclectic, and there is a great school and a graduate program I am interested in. I'm tempted at this point to simply move, have a few months in the bank, and not have a plan. Rent a hotel room and well, I'm pretty sure I can get a job as a waitress or a bartender. Just guessing on that one, but pretty sure. I find not having a plan to be almost comforting. I mean, how often do plans ever workout? Um.....never. So, why have one?
I don't know. I think the universe sends us messages and signals if we are aware and listening to them and frankly, between Mr. London, the job offer falling through, (which I actually think is for the best) all of the trouble with school, debt, the art going somewhere and the writing going nowhere, and all of the other things I can't think of in 70 WPM, I have pretty much felt like the universe has been screaming at me. It's time to stop ignoring it.
Future post: ways in which I am whoring myself out that doesn't require having my legs in the air...or around my head...or..
Thursday, March 22, 2007
why people don't do the right thing
You wanna know why people don't live by the Spike Lee credo? Cause it takes too much time and effort.
Case in point (C'mon did you really believe I didn't have an example?)
At work this afternoon I was handed a checkbook. A full and complete hundreds of blank checks banking account numbers, the works was found on the floor. The person who found it handed it to me and said, "...yeah it was just laying there.." turned and walked away.
Alrighty. Pretty sure this isn't a sign from god to alleviate all of my current financial woes. Just a guess. But I'm pretty sure.
So being the Super Girl PG that I am (cue super hero music) I look in the checkbook to locate the person's phone number and I will give them a ringy-ding-ding and ta dah! (rev the super hero music) the world is safe and sound from criminals and the common thief once more!
Oh, dear foolish readers. Do you not know me well enough to know nothing is ever that simple?
No phone number listed on the checks.
It's one of those monolithic branches, so no contact information either.
Google search for the closest locations.
Call the first branch.
No live person.
Call the second branch.
No live person.
Branch number three.
I immediately reach a live person.
....but she's no help.
Transfer the call.
Nope. He doesn't have anything.
He transfers me to the personal all things lost and found security branch.
After listening to the recorded message of, "Thank you for holding. All representative are busy. We will get to your call as ........quickly as possible." (No kidding on the pause there either. There was a hiccup between call and quickly. How appropriate.)
At 18:42 I got a live person. I'm on the wrong number.
Well, of course I am.
At 19:43 I am transferred.
Finally after 27:40 I'm told there is no way to contact the customer and I should destroy the checks.
Seriously? After all of that I'm just supposed to throw the checks away?
Yep.
I start laughing. Jesus fuck. Seriously. No wonder there's a riot at the end of the movie.
Case in point (C'mon did you really believe I didn't have an example?)
At work this afternoon I was handed a checkbook. A full and complete hundreds of blank checks banking account numbers, the works was found on the floor. The person who found it handed it to me and said, "...yeah it was just laying there.." turned and walked away.
Alrighty. Pretty sure this isn't a sign from god to alleviate all of my current financial woes. Just a guess. But I'm pretty sure.
So being the Super Girl PG that I am (cue super hero music) I look in the checkbook to locate the person's phone number and I will give them a ringy-ding-ding and ta dah! (rev the super hero music) the world is safe and sound from criminals and the common thief once more!
Oh, dear foolish readers. Do you not know me well enough to know nothing is ever that simple?
No phone number listed on the checks.
It's one of those monolithic branches, so no contact information either.
Google search for the closest locations.
Call the first branch.
No live person.
Call the second branch.
No live person.
Branch number three.
I immediately reach a live person.
....but she's no help.
Transfer the call.
Nope. He doesn't have anything.
He transfers me to the personal all things lost and found security branch.
After listening to the recorded message of, "Thank you for holding. All representative are busy. We will get to your call as ........quickly as possible." (No kidding on the pause there either. There was a hiccup between call and quickly. How appropriate.)
At 18:42 I got a live person. I'm on the wrong number.
Well, of course I am.
At 19:43 I am transferred.
Finally after 27:40 I'm told there is no way to contact the customer and I should destroy the checks.
Seriously? After all of that I'm just supposed to throw the checks away?
Yep.
I start laughing. Jesus fuck. Seriously. No wonder there's a riot at the end of the movie.
inner dork: shit for brains and shut your cake-hole
I'm mixing it up a bit today and combinding the inner dork and word origins together. Why? Because it's my blog and I can, so there.
So without further ado, did you know....
The phrase, "Shit for brains" means, extremely stupid. (No, shit. You shit for brains.) the phrase first appeared in David Maccuish's novel, "Do Not go Gentle" which was first published in 1960. The phrase can be found in this passage, "Larko's got shit for brains."
(ah, fun)
Another popular phrase, "shut your pie-hole" actually originated as, "shut your cake-hole" and means, be quiet. (again, duh.) The phrase first origniated in the UK and is slang dating back to the early 20th Century.
It was widely used in the UK until about 1970s and, although somewhat archaic now, it is still used occasionally. Hunt and Pringle record it in their 1943 reference book Service Slang:
"Cake hole, the airman's name for his or anyone else's mouth."
The later equivalent term 'shut your pie-hole' became popular in the US in the 1980s. It isn't clear if that derives from the 'cake-hole' version or was coined independently.
(Ah, us Yanks, we always have to steal something, change it ever so slightly, and then call it ours.)
...No, no your welcome.
So without further ado, did you know....
The phrase, "Shit for brains" means, extremely stupid. (No, shit. You shit for brains.) the phrase first appeared in David Maccuish's novel, "Do Not go Gentle" which was first published in 1960. The phrase can be found in this passage, "Larko's got shit for brains."
(ah, fun)
Another popular phrase, "shut your pie-hole" actually originated as, "shut your cake-hole" and means, be quiet. (again, duh.) The phrase first origniated in the UK and is slang dating back to the early 20th Century.
It was widely used in the UK until about 1970s and, although somewhat archaic now, it is still used occasionally. Hunt and Pringle record it in their 1943 reference book Service Slang:
"Cake hole, the airman's name for his or anyone else's mouth."
The later equivalent term 'shut your pie-hole' became popular in the US in the 1980s. It isn't clear if that derives from the 'cake-hole' version or was coined independently.
(Ah, us Yanks, we always have to steal something, change it ever so slightly, and then call it ours.)
...No, no your welcome.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Crap-a-doodle-do
Yesterday I received a voice mail from my adviser at Big Ridiculously Expensive Private College. I could tell by the tone of his voice that I would not be happy upon returning his call, which I did immediately.
Boy. Am I psychic.
Turns out I'm one credit short to graduate in May.
Yep.
One credit. (Boy. It was hard for me not say, fuck, in between "one and credit".)
Anyway.
Now, I'm a very pro-active kinda gal. I don't trust or rely on anyone to finish up my loose ends. To quadruple check the stats. To process the paperwork on their own. We're all busy. We bring our daily lives into the work place whether we mean to or not; therefore accidents, mistakes, glitches, cluster fucks, mishaps if you will, they are unavoidable. I get that. I understand. I'm a cool cat. But. I have checked, I have called, I have spoke with and to: my adviser, the department secretary, the registrar, I've look at my degree audit umpteen times they've all said the same thing: credits met, I'm good to get the hell out of Big Ridiculously Expensive Private College.
Then yesterday happened. It's an easy mistake that was made and I can completely see why it happened, but it still doesn't make it right. That computer class from the fall, the one I had no business being in and it took eight weeks to get me out of; yeah it was a 4 credit class. The correct class, the one I'm in now, the last one I was supposed to ever need? Well, do the math, it's a 3 credit class.
My adviser told me I could take a class during the summer. You know. A three credit class for another $1000.
Now. I realize you all don't know what my voice sounds like, but it's a very pleasant nice voice. It has a smooth friendly quality to it. I don't like to raise my voice and I really hate yelling at all and any costs. But, a sure sign that I'm pissed, upset, livid, I wouldn't recommend messing with me, is when that friendly voice lowers into a very calm, paced, and low voice. Yeah. That ain't a good sign. One thing I also try really hard to do is choose my battles. I don't get my panties in a bunch about too many things. But, this was a battle I was going to come out the victor in.
When it was suggested I take a class in the summer I said, "...that's not an option. I cannot put into words the ripple effect and ramifications I have experienced both career, financial, and personally in regards to not graduating in December. I cannot articulate what not graduating in May will do to me in terms of my career, financially, and personally. Not graduating in May is not an option. Now. What are you going to do to fix this?"
Of course there is more to the conversation. Any option I threw out wasn't an option and he threw some out that I wasn't willing to do. I told him about my trip to Greece and how the payment is due this Friday, therefore this needed to be rectified immediately. He got right on the rectification horn.
So, in addition to the computer class that I actually make it to twice a week and drive 80 miles round trip each time to attend. Even though it is my last class, it's a requirement and I have to achieve a certain grade or I won't graduate. Now, I also have to complete an independent study to complete the one credit hour. Basically, it looks like I will be writing a research paper on the history and development of computers and meeting before and after my class with my professor to get this over and done with as soon as possible.
I don't know if all of this sounds like a big deal or not. But, since this is my life, of course there is more to it than that. Of course there is a ripple effect. I have an interview on Friday for a part-time night gig, and I've also found a short gig doing transcription for a PhD candidate....not to mention all the other ways and things I am doing to try and keep the lights on and something in my stomach...but that's a post for another day. This is simply a glitch that needs to be incorporated into all of the other schtuff now.....once again. But something tells me this too shall pass, it's water under the bridge, I'll be a stronger and better person for and because of it, life is a roller coaster, and all those other pearls of wisdom. I know. But damn. I could really use a break right about now. Crap-a-doodle-do.
Boy. Am I psychic.
Turns out I'm one credit short to graduate in May.
Yep.
One credit. (Boy. It was hard for me not say, fuck, in between "one and credit".)
Anyway.
Now, I'm a very pro-active kinda gal. I don't trust or rely on anyone to finish up my loose ends. To quadruple check the stats. To process the paperwork on their own. We're all busy. We bring our daily lives into the work place whether we mean to or not; therefore accidents, mistakes, glitches, cluster fucks, mishaps if you will, they are unavoidable. I get that. I understand. I'm a cool cat. But. I have checked, I have called, I have spoke with and to: my adviser, the department secretary, the registrar, I've look at my degree audit umpteen times they've all said the same thing: credits met, I'm good to get the hell out of Big Ridiculously Expensive Private College.
Then yesterday happened. It's an easy mistake that was made and I can completely see why it happened, but it still doesn't make it right. That computer class from the fall, the one I had no business being in and it took eight weeks to get me out of; yeah it was a 4 credit class. The correct class, the one I'm in now, the last one I was supposed to ever need? Well, do the math, it's a 3 credit class.
My adviser told me I could take a class during the summer. You know. A three credit class for another $1000.
Now. I realize you all don't know what my voice sounds like, but it's a very pleasant nice voice. It has a smooth friendly quality to it. I don't like to raise my voice and I really hate yelling at all and any costs. But, a sure sign that I'm pissed, upset, livid, I wouldn't recommend messing with me, is when that friendly voice lowers into a very calm, paced, and low voice. Yeah. That ain't a good sign. One thing I also try really hard to do is choose my battles. I don't get my panties in a bunch about too many things. But, this was a battle I was going to come out the victor in.
When it was suggested I take a class in the summer I said, "...that's not an option. I cannot put into words the ripple effect and ramifications I have experienced both career, financial, and personally in regards to not graduating in December. I cannot articulate what not graduating in May will do to me in terms of my career, financially, and personally. Not graduating in May is not an option. Now. What are you going to do to fix this?"
Of course there is more to the conversation. Any option I threw out wasn't an option and he threw some out that I wasn't willing to do. I told him about my trip to Greece and how the payment is due this Friday, therefore this needed to be rectified immediately. He got right on the rectification horn.
So, in addition to the computer class that I actually make it to twice a week and drive 80 miles round trip each time to attend. Even though it is my last class, it's a requirement and I have to achieve a certain grade or I won't graduate. Now, I also have to complete an independent study to complete the one credit hour. Basically, it looks like I will be writing a research paper on the history and development of computers and meeting before and after my class with my professor to get this over and done with as soon as possible.
I don't know if all of this sounds like a big deal or not. But, since this is my life, of course there is more to it than that. Of course there is a ripple effect. I have an interview on Friday for a part-time night gig, and I've also found a short gig doing transcription for a PhD candidate....not to mention all the other ways and things I am doing to try and keep the lights on and something in my stomach...but that's a post for another day. This is simply a glitch that needs to be incorporated into all of the other schtuff now.....once again. But something tells me this too shall pass, it's water under the bridge, I'll be a stronger and better person for and because of it, life is a roller coaster, and all those other pearls of wisdom. I know. But damn. I could really use a break right about now. Crap-a-doodle-do.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
NASCAR and one of life's many lessons
A couple of Sunday's ago Mr. London came over to watch NASCAR and to eat a wonderfully prepared dinner I had so loving crafted. Now, I don't know which part of that is more surprising, the fact that I can cook or the NASCAR part. It should be, and I would hope, that it is the part that starts with NAS and ends with CAR, which has found you on the floor and with your mouths agape; because (blows on knuckles) I am quite the little chef.
We hadn't seen each other in a few weeks due to the crappy ass weather and also due to work and such, so at my door mere minutes upon his departure from the plane he greets me with a bouquet of very lovely (and my favorite) flowers and two six-packs of tallboys. I gush over the flowers and I laugh at the tallboys. Wow. Today is gonna be redneck central in my humble abode. However, the entire point of the day's events was 1) to spend some quality time together hanging out on the big ugly comfy couch and 2) for me to spend the next four or so hours making fun of a ridiculous "sport." Mission was accomplish on both one and two. We spent the entire day kissing, cuddling, and just generally entwined within each other (ah, lovely) and I spent the next four+ hours laughing and making fun of a ridiculous "sport."
Upon my closing of the door behind him after sitting in the dark for several hours, bodies still entwined around one another, it became very apparent that I need to tell him how I feel. How I would move. How much I care about him. Unfortunately, this didn't become clear to me until after I had closed the door behind him. I had periodically throughout the day conducted an internal gut check. "How'm I doing? No, I'm okay. This is okay. He leaves in five weeks. I'm okay. This is fine. Nothing to it. I'm not detached from the situation, but I'm just being realistic. He leaves in five weeks. For London. Just enjoy the day. Five weeks. London." Upon closing the door and taking a few seconds to lock all the locks, I concluded, "Yeah. I need to talk to him. Couldn't be more apparent." ...and off to bed with tears in my eyes I went.
So, after thinking about it last week and giving the situation some ponderance, yep. I would and could spend the rest of my life with him. Or at the very least a year or two. Naw. I'm going with the rest of my life. I'm ready to tell him this. We have some very, very tentative plans for Saturday. I will tell him then. (As in, last Saturday.) I call Thursday. No return call. I call Saturday. No return call. Not surprised. Not angry in the least little bit. Again, that whole picking up an entire life and moving half way around the world in five weeks, thing. But, boy howdy does it sure suck to be on the verge of wanting to tell someone I'm ready to get on with the rest of my life, that I'm ready for the rest of my life to start oh, say a week ago, and.............................................................. (yeah, just keep holding that.)
So, boys and girls today's lesson is: never put off telling someone how you feel, because you never know when you may have another chance to do so. You're welcome. Again, in addition to the inner dorkings every Thursday I try to pass all of my little life lessons onto all of you so you can learn with and through me. Again, you're welcome.
On a much lighter note:
Nick: So, what'd you do over the weekend?
PG: Um. (laughing) Well, I watched NASCAR and I drank tallboys all day.
Nick: I want your Hag card and your toaster oven back immediately.
(This past weekend)Billy: So, whatchya doing?
PG: (Hesitantly) Um, watching NASCAR.
Billy: Oh, is your cable broken?
PG: Sadly, no.
We hadn't seen each other in a few weeks due to the crappy ass weather and also due to work and such, so at my door mere minutes upon his departure from the plane he greets me with a bouquet of very lovely (and my favorite) flowers and two six-packs of tallboys. I gush over the flowers and I laugh at the tallboys. Wow. Today is gonna be redneck central in my humble abode. However, the entire point of the day's events was 1) to spend some quality time together hanging out on the big ugly comfy couch and 2) for me to spend the next four or so hours making fun of a ridiculous "sport." Mission was accomplish on both one and two. We spent the entire day kissing, cuddling, and just generally entwined within each other (ah, lovely) and I spent the next four+ hours laughing and making fun of a ridiculous "sport."
Upon my closing of the door behind him after sitting in the dark for several hours, bodies still entwined around one another, it became very apparent that I need to tell him how I feel. How I would move. How much I care about him. Unfortunately, this didn't become clear to me until after I had closed the door behind him. I had periodically throughout the day conducted an internal gut check. "How'm I doing? No, I'm okay. This is okay. He leaves in five weeks. I'm okay. This is fine. Nothing to it. I'm not detached from the situation, but I'm just being realistic. He leaves in five weeks. For London. Just enjoy the day. Five weeks. London." Upon closing the door and taking a few seconds to lock all the locks, I concluded, "Yeah. I need to talk to him. Couldn't be more apparent." ...and off to bed with tears in my eyes I went.
So, after thinking about it last week and giving the situation some ponderance, yep. I would and could spend the rest of my life with him. Or at the very least a year or two. Naw. I'm going with the rest of my life. I'm ready to tell him this. We have some very, very tentative plans for Saturday. I will tell him then. (As in, last Saturday.) I call Thursday. No return call. I call Saturday. No return call. Not surprised. Not angry in the least little bit. Again, that whole picking up an entire life and moving half way around the world in five weeks, thing. But, boy howdy does it sure suck to be on the verge of wanting to tell someone I'm ready to get on with the rest of my life, that I'm ready for the rest of my life to start oh, say a week ago, and.............................................................. (yeah, just keep holding that.)
So, boys and girls today's lesson is: never put off telling someone how you feel, because you never know when you may have another chance to do so. You're welcome. Again, in addition to the inner dorkings every Thursday I try to pass all of my little life lessons onto all of you so you can learn with and through me. Again, you're welcome.
On a much lighter note:
Nick: So, what'd you do over the weekend?
PG: Um. (laughing) Well, I watched NASCAR and I drank tallboys all day.
Nick: I want your Hag card and your toaster oven back immediately.
(This past weekend)Billy: So, whatchya doing?
PG: (Hesitantly) Um, watching NASCAR.
Billy: Oh, is your cable broken?
PG: Sadly, no.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
inner dork: all things St. Patrick
Yeah! A national reason to get really drunk and stupid! Whoo-hoo! Color me drunk!
Did you know:
St Patrick was born in Scotland or Wales around 370 A.D.
St Patrick's first name was: Maewyn. (I had no idea. I thought his first name was, Saint or Patrick, go figure.)
So, Maewyn was kidnapped (bummer) and sold into slavery in Ireland (bastards!) where he worked as a shepherd (baaaaah.) It was during this time he started to have his religious visions and dreams (I see dead people, I mean angels.) In one dream, he was shown a way to escape Ireland, (Hallelujah!) which was by going to the coast and getting on a ship (cause it's a coastal place that means it's surrounded by water.) After a perilous journey (do heroes and saints every have a non-perilous journey?) of hundreds of miles, he arrived at the coast and discovered a ship bound to Britain (hot damn! what are the chances?)
Back in Britain, Maewyn's dreams continued (well of course they did.) In one dream a man named Victoricus, came with letters from Ireland. In the dream Maewyn was asked to, "...come and walk among us once more." (I never hear things like that in my dreams. It's usually, something like, Hey, how you doin'?)
Although moved by the visions, he didn't feel so moved as to relocate to Ireland (the cost to benefit ratio wasn't really all that great.) So, Maewyn packed up his meager belongings and moved to France. There he entered the monastery and began studying under the priesthood. He changed his name to Patrick, which means, "Father of the people" in Latin. (I really think he changed his name because he finally realized how unfortunate it was to be named, Maewyn.)
Around 432 A.D. Patrick felt ready to move back to Ireland and spread the holy word of God and build churches and such places of worship. Because of Patrick's humility, winning personality, and knowledge of Ireland's social structure his mission was huge success. As a result of his success he made his headquarters in Armagh, which is present day Northern Ireland. By the time of his death on March 17 somewhere between 461 and 490 A.D. (wow, how vague. Not sure of the year, but we know the day? Hmmm, suspicious.) Ireland was almost entirely Christian thus making St. Patrick the patron saint of Ireland. Ta dah!
(And here I thought it has something to do with driving the snakes out of Ireland. See, I learn with all of you. It's a give and take relationship the Thursday inner dorkings.)
Did you know:
St Patrick was born in Scotland or Wales around 370 A.D.
St Patrick's first name was: Maewyn. (I had no idea. I thought his first name was, Saint or Patrick, go figure.)
So, Maewyn was kidnapped (bummer) and sold into slavery in Ireland (bastards!) where he worked as a shepherd (baaaaah.) It was during this time he started to have his religious visions and dreams (I see dead people, I mean angels.) In one dream, he was shown a way to escape Ireland, (Hallelujah!) which was by going to the coast and getting on a ship (cause it's a coastal place that means it's surrounded by water.) After a perilous journey (do heroes and saints every have a non-perilous journey?) of hundreds of miles, he arrived at the coast and discovered a ship bound to Britain (hot damn! what are the chances?)
Back in Britain, Maewyn's dreams continued (well of course they did.) In one dream a man named Victoricus, came with letters from Ireland. In the dream Maewyn was asked to, "...come and walk among us once more." (I never hear things like that in my dreams. It's usually, something like, Hey, how you doin'?)
Although moved by the visions, he didn't feel so moved as to relocate to Ireland (the cost to benefit ratio wasn't really all that great.) So, Maewyn packed up his meager belongings and moved to France. There he entered the monastery and began studying under the priesthood. He changed his name to Patrick, which means, "Father of the people" in Latin. (I really think he changed his name because he finally realized how unfortunate it was to be named, Maewyn.)
Around 432 A.D. Patrick felt ready to move back to Ireland and spread the holy word of God and build churches and such places of worship. Because of Patrick's humility, winning personality, and knowledge of Ireland's social structure his mission was huge success. As a result of his success he made his headquarters in Armagh, which is present day Northern Ireland. By the time of his death on March 17 somewhere between 461 and 490 A.D. (wow, how vague. Not sure of the year, but we know the day? Hmmm, suspicious.) Ireland was almost entirely Christian thus making St. Patrick the patron saint of Ireland. Ta dah!
(And here I thought it has something to do with driving the snakes out of Ireland. See, I learn with all of you. It's a give and take relationship the Thursday inner dorkings.)
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
a fun waste of time
Courtesy of Girl Goyle. This is a fun little personality test of sorts.
To check mine me out: inside my head
It's oddly accurate.
To check mine me out: inside my head
It's oddly accurate.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
from sexcapades to my world, what the hell?
Okay, so I've been meaning, wanting, and trying to write this post for some time now. Spurred on by OMC's comment on yesterday's post I feel I can finally write it.
Awhile ago I changed the blog from being called, "Sexcapades" to "Party Girl's World" for a few reasons: to make it more work friendly for all visitors and also for myself, but mainly because the blog had become so much more than just about sex and about my sex life, dating life, love life, and all things sexual in nature. In short, I wanted to and I felt it needed to be changed and broadened. I felt that would give the blog a chance to be more open in content for both myself and for those who read the blog and also no one would leave disappointed when they stopped by to read about sex and well, there wasn't any to be found.
Nope, still not solving the problem.
I'm changing, as people do, but I don't know quite how to articulate the changes that I am experiencing. However, I will give it my best PG try.
It started back in the summer with the posting of my rapes. It was the first time I really allowed myself to talk about them and it was also the first time I was really allowed to speak about them. I was uninterrupted and it was completely, totally, and nothing but- honest. In the past I was always interrupted or someone would interject or I felt the need to protect myself from the person who I was relaying the events to. For the first time, for the first time in over 15 years I was able to be open, honest, and trust those who I was telling about something that happened to me when I was 17 and again when I was 23.
As a result of this honesty and also confronting the past, I was angry. Good and angry. Furious. I had rage. I had rage and fury and I didn't know why. It took awhile for me to figure it all out, but I think I have. I was furious at what was taken from me when I was 17 and 23, but I was also furious about all the years in between. Not at who I was or who I had become, but furious that I didn't have a say or a choice in who that person was or had become. That choice was raped from me in a stranger's apartment on an August night in 1991 and again in my apartment on a summer night in 1997. I pretty much spent the summer of 2006 furious, but I didn't know why and I couldn't afford to take the time off from work or school to try and figure out why. So, it took a little longer than it needed to.
Thus, the transformation begins.
Not to limit it to just one thing; I am sure there are many, many external factors going on with me as well. In fact, I am absolutely positive about it.
School: Let's be honest, it's been a huge part of my life over the past 2.5 years. Anyone who goes to school for any length of time it is going to be a big part of their world. However, I was taking approximately 18 credits every 10 weeks and in the summer it was 18 credits every five weeks....fuckin' A that's a lot of time spent in school and not having any real free time.
Work: The job that was promised to me in the fall: it doesn't look like it is going to be approved after all. Hence, come the fall I am going to have to either quit or drop down to less than 20 hours a week and find another full-time job in the afternoon/evening. So, any kind of life plan has essentially been eliminated and a new one needs to be figured out. I'm not a 22 year-old who has just graduated with a degree and the whole world is in front of me. I am an (almost) 33 year-old and the whole world has been in front of me for sometime now. What I had planned and figured out in terms of a life and job has changed. I understand that's just how life goes. No, shit. Thanks for the update. Got any other words of wisdom? However, I am simply readjusting my plan and life goal. Unfortunately I don't have the slightest friggin' clue what that is or what that should be let alone what it will be.
Rediscovering who I am or various things that have been said to me over the past month by co-workers: Yeah, so I used to paint, sew, cook, make jewelery, bags, purses, and did quite a bit of photography; over the past 2.5 years and also over the past decade or so that was all lost. I am currently rediscovering all of the abandoned art projects, quilts, paint supplies, and various beads and I'm actually selling some of it.
Love life, dating life, the current victim known as the men I am dating and/or fucking: Yeah. Who the fuck would have thought I could ever fall in love, would know what that felt like and that I could actually fall for a decent man. Needless to say the simple fact that I even let myself...without hesitation or question...let myself fall for someone well, it came as quite the shocker. I was, would, am, thinking about picking up what little life I have left here and moving half-way across the world simply to be closer to another person. If someone else told me they were thinking about doing that I would smack them upside the head and ask them if they were fucking crazy, to snap out of it, and what the fuck, are they an idiot? It's another person. Get a fucking clue, it's only a man. Oh look, there's a bus, I bet there's a man on it. The fact that he will be leaving me and moving to London? Well, that's simply my life and poetic.
Final grades, thesis, the end of school, and my life as a writer: The thesis, well, notice there hasn't been a "Whoo-hoo! I'm a Rock Star!" post. Yeah. I have been left to question everything and also any and all ability I thought I had. The love of writing and the love for the written word has been beaten out of me and not in the good fun dirty way either. Future endeavors, projects, and life dreams in that area are currently on hold and I don't know when, or if, they will resume. Grad school: also currently on hold. At this point it may be indefinitely.
Where the fuck am I going with this long-ass post? Basically I've changed from the person who went out to get laid, getting drunker than George the bum who has passed out in his own vomitage, and the girl who is giving her current date a blow-job in the back alley and wondering when it will end up on the Internet. I'm not saying I don't still have those tendencies, I'm not saying I'm going to stop that behavior. I am saying that behavior has been curbed over the past several months. I am saying I no longer find that behavior necessary. I am not saying I have any problem with that kind of behavior nor will I ever, ever condemn it. I'm simply saying I no longer need it. In short, I've changed from the Party Girl I was over a year ago when I first started this blog. I will continue to change. Right now, I feel I am going through something much bigger than even I am aware of. I am rediscovering and figuring out who the hell I am. I've become quiet and even more introspective than I was before. According to my Tai Chi instructor I "...ponder a lot." Yes, yes I do. This is simply another pondering that I am pondering though.
The walls that I had been so careful to build, craft, reinforce, and stay so well hidden in the deep depths of, have and are becoming knocked down. I have, am, and will continue to open myself up to those around me, to myself. I have become a much more open person to those in my life. I am no longer simply peaking over the edge of the wall. I am no longer feeling as if I won something because I didn't let, or allow someone the chance to know me. I am fully open. If someone rejects me, doesn't accept or like me for something I have to say or share with them, fuck it. Their loss. Not mine.
Basically, the rapes effected me more and in ways that I didn't fully realize, that I didn't understand, that I thought I had understood, and in ways that I refused to believe that they had. That's pretty huge.
I love and adore all of you and I thank you all for your various words, comments, posts, shout-outs, friendships, emails, phone calls, and text messages over the past year and a half. If you'll bear with me I hope and wish to continue the love and adoration in the years to come.
Awhile ago I changed the blog from being called, "Sexcapades" to "Party Girl's World" for a few reasons: to make it more work friendly for all visitors and also for myself, but mainly because the blog had become so much more than just about sex and about my sex life, dating life, love life, and all things sexual in nature. In short, I wanted to and I felt it needed to be changed and broadened. I felt that would give the blog a chance to be more open in content for both myself and for those who read the blog and also no one would leave disappointed when they stopped by to read about sex and well, there wasn't any to be found.
Nope, still not solving the problem.
I'm changing, as people do, but I don't know quite how to articulate the changes that I am experiencing. However, I will give it my best PG try.
It started back in the summer with the posting of my rapes. It was the first time I really allowed myself to talk about them and it was also the first time I was really allowed to speak about them. I was uninterrupted and it was completely, totally, and nothing but- honest. In the past I was always interrupted or someone would interject or I felt the need to protect myself from the person who I was relaying the events to. For the first time, for the first time in over 15 years I was able to be open, honest, and trust those who I was telling about something that happened to me when I was 17 and again when I was 23.
As a result of this honesty and also confronting the past, I was angry. Good and angry. Furious. I had rage. I had rage and fury and I didn't know why. It took awhile for me to figure it all out, but I think I have. I was furious at what was taken from me when I was 17 and 23, but I was also furious about all the years in between. Not at who I was or who I had become, but furious that I didn't have a say or a choice in who that person was or had become. That choice was raped from me in a stranger's apartment on an August night in 1991 and again in my apartment on a summer night in 1997. I pretty much spent the summer of 2006 furious, but I didn't know why and I couldn't afford to take the time off from work or school to try and figure out why. So, it took a little longer than it needed to.
Thus, the transformation begins.
Not to limit it to just one thing; I am sure there are many, many external factors going on with me as well. In fact, I am absolutely positive about it.
School: Let's be honest, it's been a huge part of my life over the past 2.5 years. Anyone who goes to school for any length of time it is going to be a big part of their world. However, I was taking approximately 18 credits every 10 weeks and in the summer it was 18 credits every five weeks....fuckin' A that's a lot of time spent in school and not having any real free time.
Work: The job that was promised to me in the fall: it doesn't look like it is going to be approved after all. Hence, come the fall I am going to have to either quit or drop down to less than 20 hours a week and find another full-time job in the afternoon/evening. So, any kind of life plan has essentially been eliminated and a new one needs to be figured out. I'm not a 22 year-old who has just graduated with a degree and the whole world is in front of me. I am an (almost) 33 year-old and the whole world has been in front of me for sometime now. What I had planned and figured out in terms of a life and job has changed. I understand that's just how life goes. No, shit. Thanks for the update. Got any other words of wisdom? However, I am simply readjusting my plan and life goal. Unfortunately I don't have the slightest friggin' clue what that is or what that should be let alone what it will be.
Rediscovering who I am or various things that have been said to me over the past month by co-workers: Yeah, so I used to paint, sew, cook, make jewelery, bags, purses, and did quite a bit of photography; over the past 2.5 years and also over the past decade or so that was all lost. I am currently rediscovering all of the abandoned art projects, quilts, paint supplies, and various beads and I'm actually selling some of it.
Love life, dating life, the current victim known as the men I am dating and/or fucking: Yeah. Who the fuck would have thought I could ever fall in love, would know what that felt like and that I could actually fall for a decent man. Needless to say the simple fact that I even let myself...without hesitation or question...let myself fall for someone well, it came as quite the shocker. I was, would, am, thinking about picking up what little life I have left here and moving half-way across the world simply to be closer to another person. If someone else told me they were thinking about doing that I would smack them upside the head and ask them if they were fucking crazy, to snap out of it, and what the fuck, are they an idiot? It's another person. Get a fucking clue, it's only a man. Oh look, there's a bus, I bet there's a man on it. The fact that he will be leaving me and moving to London? Well, that's simply my life and poetic.
Final grades, thesis, the end of school, and my life as a writer: The thesis, well, notice there hasn't been a "Whoo-hoo! I'm a Rock Star!" post. Yeah. I have been left to question everything and also any and all ability I thought I had. The love of writing and the love for the written word has been beaten out of me and not in the good fun dirty way either. Future endeavors, projects, and life dreams in that area are currently on hold and I don't know when, or if, they will resume. Grad school: also currently on hold. At this point it may be indefinitely.
Where the fuck am I going with this long-ass post? Basically I've changed from the person who went out to get laid, getting drunker than George the bum who has passed out in his own vomitage, and the girl who is giving her current date a blow-job in the back alley and wondering when it will end up on the Internet. I'm not saying I don't still have those tendencies, I'm not saying I'm going to stop that behavior. I am saying that behavior has been curbed over the past several months. I am saying I no longer find that behavior necessary. I am not saying I have any problem with that kind of behavior nor will I ever, ever condemn it. I'm simply saying I no longer need it. In short, I've changed from the Party Girl I was over a year ago when I first started this blog. I will continue to change. Right now, I feel I am going through something much bigger than even I am aware of. I am rediscovering and figuring out who the hell I am. I've become quiet and even more introspective than I was before. According to my Tai Chi instructor I "...ponder a lot." Yes, yes I do. This is simply another pondering that I am pondering though.
The walls that I had been so careful to build, craft, reinforce, and stay so well hidden in the deep depths of, have and are becoming knocked down. I have, am, and will continue to open myself up to those around me, to myself. I have become a much more open person to those in my life. I am no longer simply peaking over the edge of the wall. I am no longer feeling as if I won something because I didn't let, or allow someone the chance to know me. I am fully open. If someone rejects me, doesn't accept or like me for something I have to say or share with them, fuck it. Their loss. Not mine.
Basically, the rapes effected me more and in ways that I didn't fully realize, that I didn't understand, that I thought I had understood, and in ways that I refused to believe that they had. That's pretty huge.
I love and adore all of you and I thank you all for your various words, comments, posts, shout-outs, friendships, emails, phone calls, and text messages over the past year and a half. If you'll bear with me I hope and wish to continue the love and adoration in the years to come.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Wow. That was under-whelming
To my fiend/co-worker
PG: K, I'm going to go eat my lunch.
Co-worker: What are you having?
PG: A biscuit, a piece of cheese, and some carrots.
Pause.
PG: Wow. Could that sound more pathetic? And sadly, I'm not kidding.
CW starts laughing.
PG: Yep. A-biscuit. A-piece of cheese. Seriously, it's just a piece, one slice of cheese. Carrots. Wow. That should fill me right up. Breakfast was yogurt with some cereal thrown in.
I turn to show her my profile. But look how slim I am.
CW: You are looking hot, but god.
Well, my grandpa used to say, "Eating is just a habit."
PG: Yep. And it's a habit I am getting over pretty quickly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat my biscuit now. Eh- that sounds dirty.
So, what was in your lunch?
Oh, and it took me all of about 8.5 seconds to eat my entire lunch...and that was chewing each bite at least 3.2 times.
PG: K, I'm going to go eat my lunch.
Co-worker: What are you having?
PG: A biscuit, a piece of cheese, and some carrots.
Pause.
PG: Wow. Could that sound more pathetic? And sadly, I'm not kidding.
CW starts laughing.
PG: Yep. A-biscuit. A-piece of cheese. Seriously, it's just a piece, one slice of cheese. Carrots. Wow. That should fill me right up. Breakfast was yogurt with some cereal thrown in.
I turn to show her my profile. But look how slim I am.
CW: You are looking hot, but god.
Well, my grandpa used to say, "Eating is just a habit."
PG: Yep. And it's a habit I am getting over pretty quickly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go eat my biscuit now. Eh- that sounds dirty.
So, what was in your lunch?
Oh, and it took me all of about 8.5 seconds to eat my entire lunch...and that was chewing each bite at least 3.2 times.
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