Quodlibets

How I Do

In my quest to fill all my free time at work, I've begun doing crosswords.  Sometimes as many as 7 or 8 in a day.  I try to pace myself--only allowing one every hour and a half or so, otherwise I might do them straight through the day.  But isn't that sad?  I read a lot still, too, because the computer gaming has fallen off exponentially now that the big boss is in every single day.  (Oh, sweet sabbatical, how I miss thee.)  I keep trying to find things to do that have an air of legitimacy, but I'm not having much luck.  I browse the internet maniacally; I've become a PerezHilton addict due to the unfortunate nothingness of my time.  There's nothing like nothing to make you feel like a useless human being.  I know I'm not one; let's be honest here: I'm doing tons of work, but I'm doing it very quickly and efficiently, leaving me with oodles of fillable time.

There's a part of me that would absolutely LOVE to bring my sewing in to work, because think how much I could get done!  But sewing is clearly 100% unrelated to my job (oh, so is crosswords, but at least that has a slight word/book/brain thing going on), and even though it's 100% sure I wouldn't get fired (the boss doesn't believe in firing people), I can't bring myself to stray that far from my job.  I totally bang on about this shit all the time, but you wouldn't believe how having nothing to do at your desk is a complete killer.  Some days it's all I think about, staring straight ahead, looking at nothing.  Some days I stare out the big dotted opaque glass window in front of me and try to watch the TV in the cafe, on mute, on CNN.  Predictably, I don't get much out of it, as I'm barely able to read the big white headlines, and can't see the ticker at all.  I live for phone calls and IM conversations.  I try to blog every day at work, because it will generally kill 30 minutes or so.  Sometimes more, sometimes less. 

Twice or three times a week I walk over to the public and scout the new book shelves, but that's not happening right now because I've got such a glut of reading material stashed at my house.  Also, forgot my library card again.  Remember that post?  Yesterday, in the grips of pre-lunch hunger pangs, I took a spin around the block, but that was incredibly boring and hot, and it's supposed to be even hotter today (the ladies from the back took their constitutional 40 min early today to beat the heat), and I'm wearing jeans.  I didn't feel like shaving this morning. 

I'm working a half day on Friday, which is the only reason I'm able to get through the other four days of this week.  If I wasn't, I'd be miserable right now.  It's the promise of sweet relief on Friday that's got me somewhat sane.  And I know things will pick up a little bit more each week with the impending school year.  There was about 3 hours of work yesterday for me, and by August 22, I may even be able to fill entire days.  We'll see.  Anyway, those full days will only last about a week before I'm caught up.  Things'll be busier, for sure.  Just not...full.

I wonder how long the fascination with crosswords will last.

The roast beef combo's only 9.95

On Friday night I went to my sister's best friend's wedding.  It was a very nice wedding; fun and personal and touching (when the groom read "Thank You" by Led Zep during the ceremony, I'm not sure there was a dry eye in the house.  It was so sweet.) and just right.  The only pitfall of the evening was one person from my graduating class (high school) that I would have been happy never seeing again.  I did a really good job of avoiding him for the majority of the reception, but then I walked blithely over to the sweets table and right into his clutches.  It's not that there's anything very objectionable about him--or that there ever was, for that matter--but I just have never liked him.  Some sort of aversion.  We were talking about basic life stuff, and I asked him if he was going to the reunion on Aug. 4th and he said no, because he just didn't care about that kind of stuff.  And had no wish to see anybody but the people he already kept in touch with.  C'est la vie, whatever, although I'm convinced it will be a gas.  But then he said, (and this is a rough approximation of a quote) "Anyway, I haven't changed since I was 15.  Why would I go to this, knowing everything will be exactly the same?"

I'm not sure if I cringed then, or if I kept the cringe inside.  Knowing me, I probably showed my disdain all over my face.  But I simply can't imagine being the same as I was at 15.  I've been 40 different girls since then, and I wouldn't discard or forget any of them, even though some of them are awfully hard to think about.  I haven't loved every single one of those girls, but the fact remains that I have been sort of an evolving person, and I think most people are.  Hell, I've watched Sam change like crazy in the 6 years I've known him.  It's been absolutely amazing to watch.

Now I don't know, maybe this guy was trying to say that the things he liked then are the things he likes now.  Everyone has some of that going on.  I've never not loved reading.  The moment I got in a car I was addicted to the driving of them.  But that's not the same as full-on stasis.  And I fear very much that what this fellow was referring to was a sort of pride that he hadn't changed at all, not one bit, in 13 years.  In fact, I'd almost bet on it.  It may be that my aversion to him stems from this one simple thing--his commitment to never change.  It could be that the force of my pity for him is too heavy for me to bear up under.  It's not a productive emotion, pity, and I'm awash in it when thinking of him.  How perfectly sad, to have never changed in 13 years.  How scary, too.  It makes him, in some ways, a sort of empty human being, devoid of experiences and feelings that have made him who he is. 

I just can't wrap my head around it.  When I think about it, it makes my head spin a little bit.  It makes me wish I were thinking of anything else.  And so I shall.

By the seat of my pants

Yeah, my butt hurts.  My poor kiester is sore from the bike seat.  I sort of forgot about that.  I thought it was going to be my legs that were in bad shape, but no.  It's my ass.  I feel like I could ride again tomorrow except that the thought of subjecting my tender butt to that seat again so soon is scary.  We'll see.  Sam and I rode about 5.5 miles today, which is far more than either of us thought we'd do.  For a first ride, that's not so bad.  I think we both really enjoyed it, though I can't exactly speak for Sam.  He is talking about possibly riding to work now, but he's worried a bit about sweat and helmet hair.  Because yeah, we both ended up wearing helmets.  They're not so bad.  I mean, they're not great, but they're not awful either.  I think we saw a lot more people without them than with, but as long as Sam as wearing one too, I don't feel so weird about it.  (I do remember seeing one couple riding--her with helmet, him without--but mostly it was people without them.

I can admit that it was slow-going.  I'm just not very fast, and I never will be.  But that's okay.  I'm riding for enjoyment, not fitness.  It's mostly recreational, with a nifty fitness bonus.  Sam is now talking about all the places we can go on our bikes, instead of public transportation, or not going at all.  For instance, now we can ride to Sweet Mandy B's and get cupcakes all the time.  Or we can ride to that artisanal cheese shop up on Broadway, and get some prosciutto.  Yes, we're the kind of people that think the increased food opportunities are reason enough to ride a bike.

I think I need to get a basket on the front of my bike, though, because otherwise shopping will be impossible.  Sam got a free water bottle mount (and bottle) on his bike, so we've got that.  Because yeah, Sam had to get a new bike when I got one.  He said his old one wasn't good enough, but I think he just wanted a new toy.  I got a new toy, and he had to have one too.  And his bike was more expensive than mine.  But you know, if that makes him a willing rider, ok.  Whatever.

Anyway.  Yay bikes!  The riding starts.

Da Dum Dum Dum

I don't think Sam and I will ever have another two year period where we go to so many weddings.  I'm actually going to one tonight (as my mom's date!  I can't wait.), and yesterday, we got a completely unexpected one in the mail.  We knew that the couple was getting married, but Sam was sure we wouldn't be invited.  It's one of his best friend's older brother's wedding.  This is a family with four sons and a daughter, and we've already been to two weddings in the family in the last 12 months.  This wedding will make it almost pefectly 3 in 12 months.  The thing is, we're not super-close to the bride and groom (though at the last family wedding I spent a good deal of time with the bride-to-be, since both of our significant others were in the wedding.  I have to stress that I really, really like both the bride and the groom.  Whether or not Sam was good friends with the groom during his time in CA, I really like both him and his fiancee.  I WANT to go to this wedding.  It'll most likely be the last one of the family we go to, as the remaining siblings barely know Sam or I.

But it's far away.  In Seattle.  And it's on a weekend that we've already got stuff.  The stuff we've got is less imporantant than a wedding, that's for sure.  Not that we wouldn't gladly do these things we have planned--we're in fact looking forward greatly to these things.  (Don't worry mom, it's not Frankenmuth weekend.)  But.  A wedding should take precedence.  But.  It's a LOT of money to spend to go out there and go to a wedding.  But.  We've never been to Seattle and it might be fun to stay an extra day and do a little bit of sight-seeing.  Can you tell we're wavering?  My honest-to-god first reaction when I saw the invitation in the mail was "oh shit" which turned into "shit shit shit shit shit shit" when I saw the date of the wedding.  The only conclusion we've come to is that we'd absolutely be going if we could 100% afford to.  Since we can't, we're sort of in a no-man's-land of desire and duty.  The only thing I know for sure is that we're going to have to figure this out SOON, so we can book things and gently cancel our other plans.  Argh.

Unrelatedly, this morning I woke up with a mean itch on my right upper arm, on the side of the arm that's away from me, underneath (thus making it impossible to examine well).  I scratched the itch, and it was a bump...or...wait, two?  I used the mirror, bent my skin this way and that, and realized that some creature had chopmed its way down my arm, leaving a nearly straight line of 7 or 8 itchy bumps.  They're mostly hidden against my body, but if I don't wear a cardie to the wedding tonight, the top two or three bites will show.  And just what bit me?  I don't think it was a mosquito.  The bumps don't feel like that.  And if it was a spider *shudder* why the hell did it go crazy on me?  I'm thinking it happened during the night, and maybe I could feel the thing on me and I was trying to crush it between my arm and body and the spider got mad?  I don't know, but it's unsettling and very strange to see the line of bites down my arm.  Maybe they'll go away fast.  Who knows, since I have no clue what bit me.  Sigh.

Try a Little Tenderness

Last night, my sis and I took my mom to see Michael Buble for Mother's Day.  I wasn't sure what to expect.  I enjoy reasonably well his CDs--they're nothing I would push on people, or rave about, but sometimes you just need some good ol' crooning.  I also have never really been to a show with this kind of performer, so when I imagined it in my head, it basically consisted of Buble at the microphone, singing.  Orchestra behind him.  That's sort of accurate, except for the entire Buble part.  He doesn't just stand at a microphone.  He's a crazy-pants, all frenetic on stage and dancing and sliding and making wild arm movements.  And his voice is nice.  About what you would expect.

The audience though was clearly insane for him.  I was shocked by the sheer electricity in the crowd.  These people love them some Buble, I'll tell you what.  At one point, my sister told me I should take off my underwear and fling it on stage, and she wasn't far off the mark.  The women in the audience had that sort of hysterical feeling going on.  And I mean, Buble IS charming.  Make no mistake about it, he's smooth as silk and he knows it.  That sort of hyper-confidence is accompanied by lots of self-depracating humor, and it works.  As Buble broke into the third song, my sis turned to me and said, "I think I love him."  And I know what she meant.  He's loveable in that way.

It was pretty interesting all around.  Chris Isaak came onstage to sing with Buble at one point, which was surprising and interesting.  Unfortunately for Chris, Buble's voice is just too good for Isaak's to compete with.  But it was neat, anyway.  Buble kept singing parts of "Wicked Game" before other songs, which was interesting too.  I guess Buble and Isaak toured together (Buble opened) years ago, and became friends, which is how Isaak happened to be at the show.  That, and he's in the area, having tour dates in Milwaukee tonight and tomorrow. 

So yeah.  I thoroughly enjoyed the evening.  More than I thought I would.  (Which is pretty much what Kate and my mom said about it last night too.)

Face Chronicles

Remember a year ago when I talked a little bit about going to the derm and being diagnosed with rosacea?  Yesterday I finally had another derm appointment.  I'd been meaning to make one for ages, because ever since Italy my face had annoyingly disgusting breakouts of acne-like bumps.  So about a month and a half ago (it takes that long to get in to see my derm, who isn't really a derm, but a PA; though a damn good doctor.  I love her.) I bit the bullet after a particularly nasty bout of bumps and made the appt.  I was also looking forward to asking about some weird clear bumpy things that pop up on my hands time and again, and a white bump on my temple that is sort of strange.  I wasn't really nervous about these things, just interested to see what was going on. 

People, here it is:  my skin just really, really sucks.  The bumps on my fingers are a form of eczema (though not an unsightly one), which isn't surprising, ther derm told me.  Eczema is genetically related to the keratosis pilarsis that is cannibalizing my body one part at a time (and is in fact also apparent on my jawline), and so it's not shocking in the least that it's showing up on me.  It's a pisser, although it's non-contagious, so it's not going to spread all over.  But I suppose the downside to this is that there is nothing to stop me from developing other, more unsightly eczemas.  Lovely.  The white bump on my face (a teensy raised bump that's barely visible) is just a cyst, and completely harmless one.  The derm offered to "cut it out" (her phrasing) of my face, but I said no thank you.  I don't like the way knives and human skin work together.  It mostly induces pain.  So, two down, one problem to go.

Of course, and I knew this would be so, my bumps were mostly gone by yesterday.  A month and a half of waiting will usually bring that about.  But she was very clear on the fact that not only do I have a recurrent bump problem, but also a redness issue, which has something to do with the blood vessels under the skin.  The bump problem is hopefull going to be taken care of by a new topical medicine, and then for really bad flare-ups, an antibiotic.  I'm very hesitant to use an oral medication for a skin condition, so I'm going to only use it in cases of extreme need.  I don't feel like I'm there yet, but I've also been holding out hope for a new topical too.  I'm just hoping beyond hope that this new topical is enough to keep those bumps at bay, or at least mute them a bit.  If that's the case, I most likely won't use the oral antibiotic.

Now, the redness is another story.  The only thing that can fix that (because it's the under the skin blood vessels) is laser treatments.  They're VERY expensive, and have to be repeated a few times to really have the desired outcome.  And, ever so wonderfully, they bruise your skin so badly that it looks like you've got blueberries smashed onto your face for about seven days.  There is a lesser bruising treatment, but that one has to be repeated even more, which is more expensive.  I'm not jumping up and rushing out to do this laser thing--blueberries?  Seven days?  But I'm also aware that this redness might get way worse than it already is.  I'm ok with it right now, how it is.  It doesn't give me much cause to feel bad about myself.  (The bumps are another story when involved with the confidence levels.)  So I'm going to have to adopt a wait-and-see kind of an attitude about the laser treatments.  I can't say no for certain, because I don't know how bad I'm going to get. 

All in all, I'm cautiously optimistic about the whole thing, and I guess you can go ahead and assume things are better unless I have a reason to blog here again.

Binary Solo (0 0 0 0 1 1 0 0 0 1 1 1)

If you're not watching "Flight of the Conchords", you should be.  That means that if you don't get HBO, you should get it, ASAP.  (Bonus!  You also get to watch "Big Love" and "Entourage" and if you're interested in trippy, hard-to-understand shows, "John from Cincinnati".)  I absolutely LOVE "Conchords".  It might be the silly musical numbers--did anyone catch "Bowie in Space" last night?--or the general inanity of the show, but there's something about those two kiwis that I can't get enough of.  I'm not really a YouTube embedder, but I'm sure if you went over there and typed in "Conchords", you'd get some nice videos.  My absolute favorite, still, is "Robot".  Nothing, and I mean nothing, beats the binary solo.  (Although "Bowie in Space" had some insanely good moments too.  I really think these are my two favorites.  Oh!  and the rap.  I love the Rhymenoceros and the Hip-hopopotamus.  Yes, these are definitely my three favorites.)  I go back and forth, but I think that even though Bret is cute, Jermaine is better.  He's just funnier.  I do love Bret's animal sweatshirts, though.

Does it sound stupid?  Don't you worry, it totally is.  But really worth watching. 

Motorin'

I bought a bike!  I did something very out of character (and it was hard to do!): I took the money my dad gave me for my birthday, money he gave me so Sam and I could eat out a bunch and enjoy good dinners, and spent it on a bike.  There was no way I could have afforded a bike without using that money, so I feel good about it.  I feel a little sad, obviously, because I was looking forward to some special dinners with Sam.  And I'm sure he feels a few pangs of sadness now that we won't be getting back to Custom House anytime soon.  But I'm also really, really happy about this bike thing, and I hope it works out.

Don't get me wrong, I'm scared as hell--it's been FOREVER since I've been on a bike, and I'm extremely nervous about riding the crowded lakeshore path.  But I feel like I need to get more active, and like I said, Sam vetoed running.  This is a bit of an anticlimactic announcement, because I won't probably get on the bike and attempt to ride it until next weekend.  Sam's bike needs a major tune-up, and we're so busy we can't get it to the place until Thursday, and then can't pick it up until Saturday, because I have a wedding on Friday night.  So we won't be riding until Saturday afternoon, at the earliest.  That's kind of nice, in some ways, because I can have a week to get used to the idea of riding a bike.  On city streets. 

Cross your fingers!

Happy Birthday, Sam!

Now we're too close to 30 together!  Sorry, you're not getting an iPhone.  Maybe next year, when we're rich.

Love Story

A couple of weeks ago, while on hiatus, I read a book called Unhooked Generation.  The book attempts to examine and explain why so many men and women from my generation either can't find someone to be with, or if they do find someone to be with, can't make that relationship last.  Overall, I found the book mostly useless; the ways the author explains these problems is very trite, with a numbered list of cutely named reasons.  The majority of the information in the book comes from interviews, as well, so you're not looking at hard data.  It's only anecdotal evidence.  But one of the things that has really stuck with me from the reading of this book is something one of the interviewees said about having a lasting, happy relationship (and marriage).  She told the author that she felt our generation didn't know what love really is, or how to make love work, really.  And then she told the author that love, ultimately, was a choice.

I can't agree more.  It's an unromantic view of love, but it might be the most realistic one.  In some ways, we choose to fall in love with people by allowing them in our lives enough for love to grow.  We choose to love someone every morning when we wake up next to them and love the feeling.  We choose to love someone when we share a physical intimacy with them.  You can do all these things without feeling like you're making a concious choice, but the fact remains that it is a choice.  (Tangentially, I believe that everything anyone does is a choice.  Even if a person feels as if there is no choice--there is ALWAYS, always a choice to be made.)  Likewise, you can wake up one morning and make the choice to stop loving someone.  That choice probably comes in the form of putting little or no effort into the relationship.  But it's a choice. 

I'm certainly not saying that all relationships can be saved by making the choice to save them.  Sometimes there is a reason to stop being with someone.  But I will say that I really don't know if I believe the whole "fall out of love" thing.  Because I really do believe that you can choose to stay in love.  That you can choose to keep loving.  I know I've said it before, but it's the truth--love relationships are never easy.  They're often hard work.  It takes effort to keep a flame burning.  And by letting yourself relax into no efforts made, you're conciously or unconciously saying you don't choose to nurture love.  And that's okay, if that's what you're looking to do.  But shrugging your shoulders and saying, "what could I do?  I fell out of love."  feels pretty hollow to me.  You may have been looking for a way out.  You may have decided for some reason or another you weren't happy with someone.  But I don't think it was about falling out of love.

Just because this view is unromantic doesn't mean that I don't believe in romance, or romantic love.  I just sort of believe that romantic love isn't the thing that the whole relationship hinges on.  I'm trying to realistically build a relationship that will last, with someone I love deeply.  I suppose that's what most of us are trying to do; I guess the benefit to having a blog is that I get to spout off about how I think it should work to all of you.  It's a deeply comforting way to look at this, though, because it gives you (and your sigfig) the power to keep your relationship going as long as you both know that you can make the choice to keep it going.  I don't believe this because it's comforting, but it's comforting to believe it.