CasaChristy

2003-01-22T17:09:00.000+02:00

Okay, whoever you are, if you come back and are looking for the Laura Fahey that may or may not have gone to Duke Law but definitely grew up in the Northern Virginia area and who would be 33 years old, graduating from HS in 87 and college in approx. 91, please email me at cbean2@yahoo.com. Oh, and her mother is US Attorney, Helen F. Fahey. Anyway, I don't know where she is, but we were friends as children and I would like to find her...

2002-10-24T23:13:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Moment #10. Where: Mugsy McGuire's, Carbondale, IL (and if you would be there with me, I could you the exact stool I was sitting on). When: Circa September 1991. Who: Stephen. What I was wearing: an oversized white scooped neck T-shirt and flowered cotton/spandex pants from Express.

I bought my first pack of condoms that day, because after 3 weeks of spending nearly every night together, I decided that it was time Stephen and I had sex. I didn't really buy them because I was too chicken, but I did go with my former roommate while she bought them for me. I had also decided to ask if it was time we stopped seeing other people (neither of us were, but that's how I approached it), but I wasn't sure if I should do that before or after we did it. The implications being: if I asked before, he might be inclined to say yes in order to jump my bones, but if I waited until after, it might imply that I had used sex as a weapon. So, earlier in the night we both indicated that we had something we wanted to say to the other and after a "you go first, no you go first" volley, he said, "I love you." I freaked and ran to the bathroom. When I got back he said, "It really is a good thing." And then he asked what it was that I wanted to say. I just laughed. Then we went home and had sex. It wasn't very good the first time, but we got better.

2002-10-24T22:59:00.000+03:00

I changed the name of Julian's band in Quantum Theory Alternative Life #2 just to make it funnier. And it's copyrighted on behalf of my friend Jay, who thought it would be a good name for a band, even though I came up with the term.

2002-10-24T21:26:00.000+03:00

Whew. Completed my bi-weekly history paper. Which means I can work out this afternoon. I lost two pounds recently and I did it with fairly minimal effort, but more effort than I normally put out. Which means that if I bump up the effort, I will probably be able to wear a bikini next summer.

2002-10-24T18:14:00.000+03:00

So far, not a great morning. I have this thing about ice. I love iced beverages, the more ice the better, but I'm particular about the ice itself. I've talked about this before, so I won't get into it, but this morning, my favorite ice dispenser was jammed. Of the 6 ice machines in the cafeteria, this one has the best ice--the irregular, chunked ice. So, I had to use thee half-cylinder ice. I hate that.

I get back from my tea-trip and my boss wants to know if I can be at a 3 pm meeting tomorrow--tomorrow-the-day-I-was-going-to-leave-early. "Of course I can." It's actually kind of a big-deal meeting and it's kind of a privilege to be involved in this particular protocol. I don't know if I'm going to make it to Don's Halloween Party at his haunted mansion. I'm running out of time to get my costume together and make pasta salad, plus, the Pissed-off Bastard and I haven't seen each other awake since Monday and I have class tonight, so I might suggest that he take me to dinner somewhere. Somewhere with cloth napkins, that is. It's funny how much I wind up missing him when I don't see him. It's also a strange concept to miss someone that you sleep next to every night. It's also amazing how less often we fight when we don't see each other...

I bought fig newtons, too. Because the lunch offerings suck, though I might go to Children's Hosp. and get cheese fries. Not exactly the best food to eat when you're trying to scratch the pounds, but I hear they are good. Frankly, anything that includes potatoes and cheese is a winner in MY book.

I read on BlueChemical today: I felt the need to have a stchick when I was a kid (talk in only song titles or something) just like the wacky kid always did in books I would read. I think, that even though I'm an adult, I'm going to affect my own schtick. I like the talking in song titles idea, but I might make it just lyrics instead. Or maybe, I'll go a whole day without saying anything that isn't a cliche.

2002-10-23T23:47:00.000+03:00

Wow, the contributor that this guy is talking about is me. It's weird to find yourself on stranger's websites...

2002-10-23T23:23:00.000+03:00

God, I am dying. I have to go to the bathroom so damn bad; I can't WAIT to go home. It's days like this I wish I were a guy--they never have any compunction (is that a word) about using public facilities for any reason whatsoever. It's been like this ever since I got to work--couldn't have been like this this morning while I was at home--nooooooooooooo.

2002-10-23T22:45:00.000+03:00

Quantum Theory Alternate Life #2

I picked Pantomime Dad over Pumpkin Boy. We go to England together and then, with the money I got from doing a side recruiting job for PD's company, I spend 10 days in Ireland. We fall madly in love in London and my absence during my Ireland tour makes our hearts grow fonder. In May, he finally talks me into going off Depo Provera and having a baby. Against my better judgement, I agree. Since my landlord has already indicated that he's not going to renew my lease and would be willing to let me out of my lease early, PD talks me into moving back to WestCo. He hates my neighborhood and doesn't want his child raised in the city. After many, many arguments regarding my books and space and etc. he helps me find a nice little townhouse in the Creve Coeur area big enough for all of my stuff and a baby. He helps with the rent. I continue to recruit until I'm ready to go on Maternity leave and then my boss suggests that I not come back after the baby is born. This is all fine with PD as he wants me to help him with some human resources software that he's developing. I work part time for PD and when my lease is up on the townhouse, we get married and I move into his house with the baby and spend long summer days by the pool reading my books. Occasionally I cook, but we have "a person" since his mom died in April. I'm not necessarily wild in love anymore and wonder if I ever really loved him, but we get along fine and my new lifestyle fits me well. I even have time write, though he thinks it's only a frivolous hobby.

2002-10-23T22:26:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Moment #9

Smart Brian and I were at our first Ellis Paul show. Neither of us had any idea who he was, what he sounded like, but being folk afficionados we went. It was our 2nd or 3rd date. Ellis (who's real name is Paul) sang "Did Galileo Pray"--years before it found a home on an album--and required the audience to sing the "Did Galileo Pray" section of the chorus. Smart Brian complied, though I'm not found of singing in public--or in unison. In any case, when I hear that song now, I ALWAYS think of Smart Brian and those couple of months in early fall in the middle of my tour of North Carolina when I wasn't so lonely.

2002-10-23T18:01:00.000+03:00

I need a happy relationship moment. Because I'm feeling a little funk-y this morning and because Pumpkinboy's comment on my triangle post made me cry. So, I will have a happy relationship moment about Pumpkinboy.

The two boyfriend thing had just begun and keeping up with the two of them had turned into a full-time job of its own and I took a couple of days off from my paying job. I had just met PB in person the week before and he was pretty crazy about me at first. We talked on the phone for hours one Thursday as I sat in my window seat. It was Feb. 8 and it was very warm outside. I was restless. And after we hung up, I already missed him. He got out of his previous engagement, either early or altogether and drove to Soulard. We took a walk. He put his arm around my shoulder. It was a very nice night. But, god, he used to call me late at night and keep me talking until dawn. It was crazy, but it was fun. That was Pumpkinboy's best thing--he was fun.

2002-10-23T17:50:00.000+03:00

The Ellis Paul show was excellent. In terms of where this show ranked among the many other times I've seen him play, it wasn't the best show ever, but still excellent. I think, part of the reason that it was excellent is that he played a Tuesday show as if it were a Tuesday. The last time I saw him in St. Louis, he played for 4 hours or something, but it was a Friday or Saturday. I thought that was very considerate of him to play a shorter show on a school night. Also, it was excellent because my dad was there for the first time. And, for most of the first set and then some of the second set, he got off the stage and did an "unplugged" performance from the extra chair at my table. He played a lot of new music and he didn't ask for requests (probably because the show was so short). I would have liked to hear "Angel in Manhattan" or "Say Something" or "Translucent Soul" but as I have all of his stuff and have heard him do it all before, it was all right. While he did do Woody Guthrie's "Hard Travelin'" he did not do any Dylan covers, to the mild disappointment of my two tablemates. And, he did a hauntingly, folky version of "Let it Be."

I stopped by the Meow for awhile before going to Off Broadway. Fred walked me to my car when I left.

Speaking of Jesus (oh, wait, we weren't). This story hit the papers and National Geographic this week... My only issue is that anything that indicates that James is both the brother of Jesus and the son of Joseph is erroneous because there's no way that a son of Joseph could be the brother of Jesus since Joseph wasn't the father of Jesus. Or is it only me who remembers that Christ was conceived by the Holy Spirit? Granted, he could be the son of Mary and still be the brother of Jesus, but that's not what the box says. Biggest find since the Dead Sea Scrolls, my ass--more like the Cardiff Giant, I'd say.

2002-10-22T23:50:00.000+03:00

My tea is gone. I finished it about 2 o'clock. This is more reason than ever to leave at 4 pm and work out. My week is so damn busy that the only way I'll make it to Don 's Haunted Mansion on Friday is to take Friday off--at least a half day. Tonight I have my excercise/nutrition class and father/daughter bonding at the Ellis Paul show. Tomorrow, I'm meeting my best friend from high school, Jay, who, despite the fact we live 5 miles from each other and despite the fact that he's often in my neighborhood, I haven't seen in 5 years. Jay is half of the "Gay Correspondants" on the Dave Glover Show on 97.1 Thursday, I have class (but, don't worry, I'll be over that by Friday). PLUS, I have to work out at least two more times after today. I don't like being this busy.

2002-10-22T20:25:00.000+03:00

Oh, and I now have tea. And I am happy. However, I was so damn thirsty by the time I got it, I drank most of it pretty fast, not giving the ice time to melt and therefore not giving me a full 32 ounces of icy-tea goodness.

2002-10-22T20:23:00.000+03:00

In response to the decision that websites are virtual space and not physical space and are therefore not covered by the American's with Disabilities act, the Ratbastard wrote: "Making the web accessible to the blind is like making braille accessible to people without fingers."

I am rolling on the floor, laughing my ass off.

2002-10-22T20:19:00.000+03:00

I thought I'd fixed the garbage disposal last weekend, but it turns out I didn't fix it enough. Now, it is fixed enough. My favorite part of fixing things is the amazed look on the Pissed-off Bastard's face.
"How did you do that?" he asked me last night.
"I allen-wrenched it."

He asked me the other day if I had any pliers. I couldn't find any. This makes me happy, because it gives me a reason to go to the hardware store. I love the hardware store. I love knowing what size phillips-head screwdriver I need. I love knowing what a phillips-head looks like. I love knowing the reason why you should always use the right-sized phillips head screwdriver. But, I already have many phillips-head screw drivers so I'm going to have to be happy buying pliers.

Oh, and please be sure to check out BanScrewdrivers.com site. Um, yeah. To quote my office mate: "Someday has too much time on their hands."

2002-10-22T17:58:00.000+03:00

This post contains foul language

Now I am fucked. I was in such a lather about triangles and then about printers and non-working print-servers in buildings I can't even find that I never made it to the cafeteria to get iced tea. And now, it's closed for an hour. And now there is nothing more than I want than iced tea--a big 32 ouncer with lotsa ice.

An hour I have to wait for iced tea. An hour.

2002-10-22T17:33:00.000+03:00

I've been thinking about a number of things lately.

I'm not a one-man woman. My life is full of bizarre love triangles. Some of my triangles have had triangles. I function much better in a triangle situation. I think it's because I want too much from a single person and I find it easier to have my cake and eat it too if I'm in a triangle. Two is plenty and even then I prefer them one at a time.

Looking back through all my relationships for "Happy Relationship Moments" I have noticed again the triangle theme. My most successful was Mercer and Dan the Pervert. Mercer had a girlfriend and while we were able to work around that as long as I was in North Carolina, once I moved back it was very difficult for us to deal with what was going on. And then came Dan and everything balanced out. And, for the most part, I only needed Dan in the context of Mercer. Once Mercer was out of the picture, and we were no longer a triangle, Dan and I faltered.

Later, I had the two boyfriends, Pantomime Dad and Pumpkinboy. That worked out pretty well, too, until Pantomime Dad pressured me to stop seeing other people (aka Pumpkinboy). I wasn't ready to do that so Pantomime Dad left the scene. Then Pumpkinboy and I faltered. Mostly because it was too much pressure on him I think, to be the only banana in my banana orchestra. I became, how did he put it? "Clingy and jealous." I think that is a bit of an exaggeration. He would often leave me alone in groups of strangers while he flirted with every other girl in the room. Wait. Scratch that. While he flirted with every girl in the room under the age of 21. Yeah, it pissed me off. There's an element of humiliation in that.

My strangest triangle was probably Stephen and Joe. But that was strictly sex. And it really didn't exist to balance anything--at least not from my perspective. I can't speak for Joe or Stephen and I suspect that each of them had an underlying motive. For Joe it was me and for Stephen it was Joe, but I can't actually prove this.

For the last year and a half, I think I've been yearning for a third party. The POB just can't be everything I want. However, it's hard to convince someone to be the small arm of your triangle when the other arm is a big, giant guy with a misconceived reputation for mean. Also, triangles are easier if everyone involved are at least peripherally aware of the situation. No way am I going to convince the POB that this is the way to go. I think I've tried, even.

Nevertheless, I've been marginally allowing myself to be wooed--that is, I've offered little or no resistance to the pursuit. But, I'm not sure what the sincerity level of this person is--about 9 months ago he said to me, "You know what the difference between you and me is? You're scared and I'm not." I corrected him: I'm scared when I'm drunk, he's scared when he's sober. As I've been fond of saying the last few months--it would be like going from the fire into the frying pan: the surface is level and easier to stand on, but it's still just as hot. He's getting divorced; he knows the POB. And, in reality, it wouldn't necessarily be a trade-up.

I think it's possible that someone saw me kiss him outside the Meow on Saturday. Well, I'm fairly certain this guy saw but I don't know if he'd tell the POB--or tell someone who would tell the POB. Mostly, I'm not sure that he remembers that I'm the girlfriend of the POB. Additionally, I don't know if he knows we're still together. And furthermore, I'm not sure he'd have the balls to tell the POB as he is in that misinformed population of people who think the POB is an ass-kicker.

However, yesterday, I got to the neighborhood before the boyfriend and I went to the Meow to read the paper. A half-hour later, POB called and wanted to have a drink with me--did I mind if he stopped or did I just want him to go home? "You aren't busy?" he asked me. He NEVER wants to have a drink with me--this was extremely odd behavior. I determined he didn't have any money, but he left before I did AND he paid the tab, so that wasn't it.

The next time he drinks vodka, I'm sure I'll find out.

And, no, I don't consider myself infidelous...

2002-10-21T23:42:00.000+03:00

So, I have FREE passes to the Ellis Paul show on Tuesday. For which I'm very excited. Likely, I could have gotten on the guest list since I'm still officially part of his "Fan Out" which turned out to be more of a fan club than what I thought it would be initially. I'm a fan, but I'm not the fan club type. Those people loose their objectivity for sure. Anyway, I'm on the notification list for Off Broadway. And Joe offered free passes to an upcoming show for the first 3 people to respond. I was one of them. But, you have to request the show because they only offer so many free passes, etc. etc. but I got them for Ellis, whom I was planning to see anyhow. Only now I don't have to pay. So, I guess I can add that to my non-currency money to bring the total to $154.xx.

2002-10-21T23:17:00.000+03:00

I don't know how much money I have in the bank. It could be very little or it could be a lot. However, this is how much non-currency money I have: $50 Visa Gift Card. $5 lottery ticket. $20 (I think) Borders Gift Certificate. $5.35 merchandise credit from Bath and Body Works. $1.xx remaining on a B&N gift certificate. $20 Vintage Vinyl gift certificate. Another $20 Vintage Vinyl gift certificate. And $14.35 in WorldWinner Games winnings (Although it's really only $9.35 since I staked the first 5).

That's a total of $130.xx in unused money. That's a lot. Some of these gift certificates are almost a year old. I hate to use gift certificates. I'm not sure why. I waited until after Art died to use the $75 Victoria Secret GC he'd given me the Christmas before. I cried at the register; I'm sure the VS babe thought I was nuts.

2002-10-21T23:07:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Moment #7 The Alternate

The week I moved from St. Louis to North Carolina, Mercer and I were on our first of many lunch dates. He took me to Dierdorf and Hart's and as we finished lunch he said, "I know you are going to be busy this week with your move, but I want to spend as much time with you as you can spare."

2002-10-21T23:03:00.000+03:00

Okay, I just posted Happy Relationship Memory #7 and the Happy Relationship Memory #7 the Buzzkill and all of a sudden, my post started being eaten. Seriously, I watched the whole thing delete from the end to the beginning. Like a snake. Like a Blog Snake. Like one of those evil Blog Snakes that you are warned to avoid when playing Blogger.

Come on, Ben, now's the time to say it again. I gave you an opening even.

2002-10-21T20:22:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Memory #6

I was 18 and a freshman in college; I was also severely homesick. I don't remember how I met Julian, but not long after we met, I came back from a weekend at home (my 4th in a row) to find out that the guy I thought I was seeing was now seeing the girl across the hall. I decided that I wanted to transfer to Edwardsville and live at home. The next morning, I found a note under my door that said something like, "Christy, please don't transfer. I'm here for you if you need me. Jules." It would be another 2 months before we were officially a couple, though.

I really fucked up the business with Julian. When we broke up, it was one of those significant moments where the outcome of one's life immediately and irrevocably changes.

Quantum Theory Alternative Life #1:
Somewhere, according to quantum theory, Julian and I are happily married, living in Colorado, with 2 lovely children who have bowlegs and chin-butt dimples and who ski almost as well as their daddy. Mommy won't ski, but will read and write and drink the occasional toddy in the lodge.--nope, strike that. Julian and I are happily married with 2 lovely children who have bowlegs and chin-butt dimples and who ski almost as well as their daddy and living in Genève, Suisse, where Mommy has a job with the United Nations. Mommy doesn't ski, but saves the Palestinians from the Israelis and the Irish from the English and will probably win a Nobel Peace Prize. Julian was the lead singer of "The Liquor Store Widows" who took the world by storm back in '90. "The Liquor Store Widows" were highly influenced by Yes, Journey and post-Peter Gabrial Genesis. He made tons of money, stayed off drugs and groupies, invested well, and then retired. Julian is a professor of music and physics at L'Université de Genève.

2002-10-18T22:28:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Memory #5

In 1992 I worked at the Mississippi Flyway in Carbondale and often worked a split shift (Lunch and Dinner til 10 or so). Stephen worked evenings (until 2) wherever he happened to be working at the time. Often, he'd meet me after my lunch shift and we'd hang out in Turley park. I was very skinny then and wore a lot of mini skirts (only the skinny thing has changed). One afternoon, at the park, on a picnic table bench we were making out. And then we were screwing. In public. Within yards of small children and their mommies. But we were very discreet and it was probably not apparent what we were doing. At least, no one ran off screaming.

That's my last happy memory for the day. This has been nice and refreshing and I may pick it back up again on Monday. Do you have happy relationship memories to share? Ko has the Funniest Relationship Memories going on over at his site--they are indeed funny. Mae should start a Kinkiest Relationship Memory thread on her site. But, I'm going to stick with happy for now.

Maybe next week I'll talk about Fred.

2002-10-18T22:10:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Memory #4

Not long after Stephen and I were together, we drove with Chris (see below) and Spike from Carbondale to the VP Fair (which was held over Labor Day weekend that year due to repairs at the Arch earlier in the summer). The relationship was still very new (I didn't yet know he was married and etc.) We split from Chris and Spike and went to the beer garden at Sundecker's and I remember feeling happier than I'd ever felt standing there with him, looking across the Mississippi to Illinois. No particular reason.

2002-10-18T22:06:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Memory #3

When I would go up to Chicago to see Dan the Fork Dork we would spend the entire day in bed, listening to old music, quizzing each other, drinking Absolut Citron and Diet Coke, having sex, ordering in lunch. We felt no pressure to do anything else. Or be anywhere else.

2002-10-18T22:04:00.000+03:00

I'm behind several hours on my Happy Relationship Memories.

Happy Relationship Memory #2

When the Pissed-off Bastard and I first started dating, I had a post-wedding party to attend. He was supposed to go with me but at the last minute couldn't. I drove out to St. Peters, stayed for about an hour and drove back to the liquor store. He was very happy to see me, told me I smelled good, was afraid I'd be gone all night. Later, a bunch of us were sitting outside and it was chilly and he gave me his favorite sweatshirt. There's nothing better than the feeling of wearing the first piece of his clothing in a relationship (does that make sense?)

2002-10-18T17:59:00.000+03:00

Happy Relationship Memory #1

I heard "The Dance" on the radio yesterday. During my senior year in college, Chris and I, in the evenings would play cards or Trivial Pursuit sitting cross legged on his water bed, listening to country music and drinking Boone's Farm wine. I was very content to do this and Boone's Farm always made me feel warm and fuzzy. The first time we said, "I love you" we were on my living room floor, playing Trivial Pursuit and drinking Boone's Farm. But "The Dance" always reminds me of those cold nights in Chris' house on his waterbed.

2002-10-18T17:56:00.000+03:00

Normally, I would not blog about such things, but I think I'm getting my period. This is only noteworthy because I have not had a period since Febrary 2001 and it was a fleeting one at that. Since Jan. 2000 I have had only 5 periods, not counting this one. The reason I'm having one now (I think) is that I haven't had a Depo Provera shot since last December. I'm so used to not having them that I can't decide if having one feels novel or alien.

Anyway, it is making me a little grumpy and I've felt grumpier than usual lately and last night I decided that in lieu of my very screwed up relationship, I'm going to have one happy relationship memory an hour today. Not necessarily about my current relationship, though one of those might sneak itself in there. These will not be in any kind of chronological order.

2002-10-17T00:43:00.000+03:00

Okay, it's Wednesday. I usually go out for a couple of drinks on Wednesdays. But, I need to work out 3 times this week. I can't do it tomorrow; I'm unlikely to do it on Friday. And I've only worked out once this week so far. I'm sitting here trying to decide. What the fuck. Let's roll.

2002-10-17T00:28:00.000+03:00

I have a unusual fear of html tags. Even the simple ones. Especially the simple ones. Like, if I hit the italic font icon to italicize a block of text in Blogger and both the opening and ending tag wind up sitting on the end. I will delete both tags and start over or will attempt to cut and paste the opening tag, rather than just typing it in.

2002-10-17T00:22:00.000+03:00

I am on the phone with my father and he has just said, "I've been listening to the Grateful Dead."

"Really??" I mean, my dad has very eclectic taste and I know he owns some Grisman/Garcia stuff but that's bluegrass, but the Dead's the Dead, you know?

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, it's just--"

"--This is the kind of music that's right up my alley. It's....it's...it's...they are to rock music what the New Grass Revival was to Bluegrass. No holds barred. They're really just a country rock band. In fact..." He then proceded to dissertate on this topic more fully, ending with "The New Riders of the Purple Sage. You know them?"

"I've heard of them. Wasn't someone in that band?"

"Christy, a lot of people were in the band. That's why it was a band." This delivered with great deliberateness. I knew I got my sarcasm from someplace.

"I mean, someone who's known for something else."

"Well, see, Jerry Garcia wanted to be able to play the steel guitar and ya-da ya-da..."

"So, Jerry Garcia."

"Well, yeah, but I thought you knew that."

"Mmm...are you going to Ellis Paul next Tuesday or not?"

This conversation was prefaced by a conversation that began, "Did you see The Sopranos last night" and ended with "Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson singing Rio Bravo." I didn't see The Sopranos nor have I seen the movie "Rio Bravo" but I now know there's a connection.

2002-10-16T23:43:00.000+03:00

Found in a newsgroup email: Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself.

2002-10-16T23:03:00.000+03:00

I opened up Blogger and "edit your blog" and I realize that I have nothing to say. I had all kinds of things to say this morning. On the way to work. On the shuttle. In the cafeteria. During a lecture on "Hereditary Endometrial Cancer" Identifying Patients at Risk & New Advances, all of which, except for the words in the title of the lecture, went right over my head, without passing go and without collecting 200 dollars. On my way through the link, because they've blocked off my outside shortcut. While reading other blogs. While posting other comments to other blogs (I found Adam Curry's and he mentioned fellow STLBlogger Burningbird. Which sort of makes me, by virtue of our tenuous STLBloggers connection, separated from Adam Curry by only 2 degrees. Which is far closer than I ever thought I'd be to Adam Curry. Or wanted to for that matter).

So, while I had plenty to say then, I don't remember any of it now.

2002-10-15T17:49:00.000+03:00

A couple of weeks ago, something happened to the garbage disposal. There's been a clinking noise during the post-grind phase for awhile and then one night it stopped grinding altogether and then the motor stopped. Some aural research later, I discovered that the motor didn't break, it just needed to be reset. So, I reset it. But it still wouldn't grind.

"You need an allen wrench," Andy told me. It fits into a hole in the bottom and you turn it to unblock whatever's in there.

Later, Little Jeff said, "No, you aren't taking anything off, you just need to turn the blades to unlodge whatever is stuck. Turn it counter clockwise, because the blades turn the other way. You might have to turn it one way and then the other to loosen whatever's there."

Home depot: "I don't know what size allen wrench you need, ma'am, you need to check your disposal."

So, on Sunday, the Pissed-off Bastard has just done some dishes and I notice some excess water beneath the sink. At first I think it's a leak, but he suggested it was just water he'd splashed. Later, doing other dishes, he noticed that it seemed to be leaking near the dishwasher. I opened it and stagnant water was pooled on the bottom. This has happened before, though I'm not sure how. So, I start the DW. It starts to back up into the sink. I turn it off. Concerned now that this problem is connected to the disposal problem I decide it's time to go back to Home Depot.

I feel up underneath, get a general sense of what size allen wrench I need (at least I know what an allen wrench IS) and then remember that I might actually HAVE a set of wrenches somewhere, that might include an allen wrench. I check. I do and I do. The first fitting I try is too small or too big or something, so I go to reach for another one and something under the sink twinkles at me. Lo! An allen wrench--or rather, an allen wrench TOOL. The one that obviously came with the disposal, just sitting there IN PLAIN VIEW this entire time.

And, so, I fit the allen wrench into the bolt and turn and the water subsides. I reset the disposal and once again it grinds.

"What did you do?" The POB asked.

"I fixed it," I said, and went upstairs to fold laundry.

2002-10-14T18:37:00.000+03:00

Very mixed weekend. Friday wasn't such a hot night for me and the POB...mostly because he started drinking vodka right after work and he's a bear on vodka--so while my night out was interesting, it didn't include him. After I left him, I went to the Meow and ran into Richard, this guy I don't know very well and hadn't seen since the last time it was cold out. We talked about infomercials, particularly Ron Popeil's, and at some point he said, "you know, there's two different versions of the rotisserie one."
"I know," I said, and then simultaneously we both said, "there's the one with his DAUGHTER" proving that we know WAY too much about infomercials.

On the other hand, I'm gonna get me some of that Orange Glo and that Ka-Boom that Billy Mays hawks.

Later, we went to the Venice Cafe. I'd never really been there before. Mostly because they charge a cover. However, it was AWESOME. There's mosaics EVERYWHERE and cool Tikki rooms and one of the best bathrooms EVER. And they have a diorama with naked Barbies and Friends sunning themselves on rocks by a babbling brook--WATCH OUT, Barbies, here comes a GIANT HULK HOGAN...some of them are pretty drunk judging from the numbers of beer cans, littering their perches.

Also, while I was there, I ran into Kevin, with whom I spend every Thanksgiving (his mom and my mom are best friends and we've known each other all my life--he's a little older). We've been doing the Thanksgiving thing nearly every year for 20 years. It's a big deal with lots of ritual. We chatted and made a pact that at least once a year, I'd come out to North County and at least once a year he'll come to the city, so that way we'll manage to see each other 3 times a year. I told him my cousin Andy was coming this year and we both grimaced, remembering the LAST Thanksgiving Andy came out. Anyway, I'm looking forward to Thanksgiving.

I went home around 2 and grabbed my pillows and slept on the futon. As usual, everything was fine by morning, though we did have a discussion and some resolution. I went out for a little while and we barbequed, as usual.

Sunday, he made chili. I sat outside, but it was too cold, so I went to the roof where it was sunnier. That wasn't working either, so I took a nap and then a bath.

And then I got some bad news.

Jay called to tell me that Quincy's younger brother, Kyle died on Thursday. It was self-inflicted, but I'm not sure if it was on purpose or not. Kyle and I were buddies for awhile the year that Quincy and I dated. I spent a lot of time with him that summer going record shopping and whatnot. I remember he was into old 60's rock before I was and he's the only person I know who had "Freedom Rock" both I and II. I haven't talked to him in years and the last time I saw him he wasn't particularly friendly, but I am feeling a bit of a loss today and I can't imagine the pain his parents are feeling--

I hope wherever you are, you are safe and happy, Kyle.

2002-10-11T23:54:00.000+03:00

My nephew is the single cutest baby in the entire world. I wish I could figure out how to post photos (because the technology is available, I just haven't figured it out). And he's a BIG baby--in the 96th percentile for height and weight and all that. Which means that he might grow up to be a big, tall man. And he's a good baby and a happy baby. I can't wait to see him at Thanksgiving.

I didn't go to class last night because the Protocol Review meeting lasted 2 1/2 hours. It was my week to hand in the bi-weekly one-pager. He takes off 10 points for every day it's late and if you don't arrange an absence with him 24 hours in advance it's unexcused.

Well, I'm sorry. Unfortunately my job is ruled by submission deadlines. Unfortunately my job is ruled by mandatory meetings at which my presence is imperative. Unfortunately I have control over neither of those things and certainly not 24 hours in advance. I can assure you that my life would be much less stressful if that were true. I am not an 18 year-old freshman who's JOB it is to go to college full time. I can understand the strict attendance model in more traditional circumstances, but at NIGHT SCHOOL where pretty much everyone is a working professional? It's ludicrous. So, I sent him my paper via email saying more or less just that--we'll see what he says.

I already know that my end-of-semester evaluation is going to be less-than-flattering. I don't mind his lectures so much, but I can't stand the little martinet attitude.

The Pissed-Off Bastard and I are supposed to do something tonight--I'm about to make my Friday afternoon phone call, let's see what happens......dialing...ringing...ringing A LOT

Him: _______ (the name of his company--he sounds like he's in a tin can. Could it be the Liquor Store maybe?)
Me: Hi sweetie
Him: Hey you
Me: What are you doing.
Him: (pause) Nothing...um, getting ready to head home. What are you doing.
Me: Sitting here. Working. (HA)
Him: What are you going to do.
Me: Go home.
Me: Are we going to do something tonight.
Him: I guess we can, if you want to.
Me: Okay.
Me: I was going to work out, but I have to go to the bathroom so damn bad, there's no way.
Him: (pauses) Um,okay.
Me: Okay.
Him: (distracted) Okay.
Me: Bye
Him: Bye.

Note: the lack of question marks are purposeful. We do not have conversations that utilize the question mark. These are the same questions we always ask and we always know the answer. We just say them in order to get to the end of the conversation. By the time I got to the end of that brilliant and verbatim transcription, it occurred to me that he was on the pot. Hehehehehe. He probably thinks I figured it out and that's why I mentioned my own biological urge.

On a different note: I picked up the phone today at work and said, "This is Christy." Without any other preamble, my boss said, "I was just telling Dr. M______ and Chuck that I don't know what I'd do without you. That if you left I'd probably quit."

Yesterday, I didn't get to the office until 2 pm. She didn't notice.

2002-10-10T01:08:00.000+03:00

Oops, did I say "go to Key West with Fred?" Uh, that was, uh, just a, uh, joke. Yeah, a joke.

2002-10-10T01:07:00.000+03:00

Okay, so this Karyn person did it, why can't I? As usual, I'm late to the party, but some chick in New York has a website on which she ACTUALLY panhandles in order to pay off her credit card debt. Like that kid some years back who put out ads asking for pennies so that he could afford tuition.

I would be so embarrassed, but you know, it's not really a bad idea...I mean, no one's making these people send her a buck or two...I didn't. But, the chick has gotten over $12,000 plus other goodies from perfect strangers.

Ooh, someone talk me out of it. Because I really want to go to Key West with Fred in August and I, too, have loads of credit card debt that I can't pay off...

2002-10-09T23:08:00.000+03:00

Oh, and it wasn't the POB that was banned from Molly's--just some guy I had been sitting next to (but not WITH) on Monday night.

2002-10-09T21:31:00.000+03:00

I think if someone told me that I could have some other job but it would pay exactly what I make right now, even if the job I chose didn't normally pay that much, I think I would be the person who drives the lunch truck.

We used to have a lunch truck at the dorms when I was in college, only it came around at supper, not lunch, and stayed until 2 in the morning. The official name of the business, according to the sign on the truck, was "Mr. Sandwich" but it was normally referred to as "Mr. Munchie" or "Munchman" or just "Munch." They had Coke in 16 oz. refundable glass bottles. Many a freshman returned back to his 16th floor dorm only to discover the bottle required an opener.

Everyone is always happy to see the lunch truck. No one ever, ever, ever says, "Oh, fuck me, it's the damn lunch truck again. Why the fuck is the lunch truck always coming around at lunch time? Fer chrissake."

On another note

I just finished Helen Fielding's "Cause Celebre" this week. Fielding is well-known for writing "Bridget Jones' Diary" which is really insipid by comparison. Or, rather, Bridget is really insipid in comparison to Rosie, the heroine (for real) of "Cause Celebre". This is a far better book than BJD could ever hope to be. It's her first novel, actually, and I think it was recently re-published since the BJD phenomenon.

2002-10-09T21:21:00.000+03:00

I found this link on Joe's site...

casachristy
casachristy is a bedside table that
hovers three feet from the ground,
freezes anything it touches and
jumps like a frog.

2002-10-09T18:57:00.000+03:00

For all you people who keep stopping here because you googled for "Ani+Moller+Ben+Brown+Divorce" Ani has posted to her website, explaining all and asking for a little help. It would so suck if you moved halfway around the world to get married and then it didn't work out and now you were all alone in a foreign country.

2002-10-09T18:42:00.000+03:00

I received the following email from an old friend of mine from California (wow, Studboy, it's been nearly 10 years since the night at the Airtel)

This is it. In its entirety, I might add.

I looked at your weblog... I don't understand your
lack of grief for the folks killed in 9/11? Oh
well, it's a free country.

See ya,
[Studboy]

I don't think he's very happy with me right now. It's hard to assume tone in a written dispatch, but considering that in my last email to him, I asked how HE was doing and this was the only response I received, I sense some displeasure. I'm not sure I understand why. To my knowledge he didn't lose anyone in the attacks. If he did, why then I would feel sorry for his loss, like I do when other people I know lose friends and family and pets.

I'm not cold-hearted or callous. I DO have feelings, despite what some people have told me and I DO NOT have ice water running through my veins like yet other people have said.

"Oh, well, it's a free-country." ???????? I guess it isn't. I guess that's my point. I feel as if I've been issued a federal (or at least a societal) mandate to grieve over deaths of strangers. I feel as if I've been mandated to grieve over an incident that affects my life only very peripherally. It's not that I don't care; it's that I'm trying to keep this in perspective. I know I use that word over and over and over, but that's because I feel that it is important.
.
Geez, I really thought we had moved on already. This is what I responded (I hope he doesn't mind that I shared)...but for the last time...

Studboy,

I don't feel any personal grief--I didn't know any of those people. I don't feel personal grief for people I don't know who die in car accidents or plane crashes or in tornados or in hurricanes or earthquakes either. I feel sympathy for their families and friends, but I can't GRIEVE for people I don't know.

If you had been killed (and thank heavens you weren't) I would have grieved for you. If you die before me, no matter how old we are, I will grieve. But I cannot grieve for people I never knew, or never knew existed. And, it's not likely, that any of those people, had they heard about my demise in a car accident, would have grieved for me.

Again, and I'm getting really good at saying it: this was NOT the worst thing to ever happen in America or to Americans. It is especially not the worst thing to ever happen in the world. I just wanted to keep it in perspective, that's all.

One of my other issues is the federal aid going to surviving families--aid that the survivors of the OKC bombing or the previous Trade Center Bombing or terrorist-suspected airplane bombings didn't get.

And finally, I can't spare the emotion to grieve for this particular set of victims. The United States, as a collective entity, brought this upon itself because of its foreign policy in the middle east. Mark my words, until that foreign policy changes and the US Gov't decides on a more laissez faire approach to the Mid East, IT WILL HAPPEN AGAIN. Even if we wipe out the Al Qaida, even if we wipe out Saddam Hussein, it will happen again.

And there's nothing anyone can say that will reassure me otherwise.

2002-10-08T20:26:00.000+03:00

Hot MFn DAMN!!!! Once you obtain a pin number, you CAN--that is, you CAN renew your library books over the internet. Which is a good thing since I have like10 of them due today.

Which leads me to something I've been thinking about since I finished "The Corrections" Jonathan Franzen has some major issues. Keep in mind that I read A LOT of books--mostly fiction and across most fictional genres...The end of that book was absolutely CRUEL--the way he portrayed that dying old man. When I read, or attempted to read "American Psycho" I didn't come away with the sense that Ellis had issues, nor do I generally think that about any author after reading his/her book (okay, sometimes I REALLY wonder what goes on in Stephen King's head, but his wife Tabitha writes such nice ordinary books--which are wonderful, by the way--I figure he just has a gifted imagination), but after reading "The Corrections" I really think that Franzen has some issues with his childhood and with St. Louis in general (the St. Jude in the book was only thinly disguised I think, to underscore Franzen's distain for St. Louis--he grew up in Webster). I didn't think I'd say this, but Oprah's probably lucky that he refused to be a guest.

2002-10-08T19:53:00.000+03:00

oooookayyyyyyyyy. The nutritionist wants me to eat 3 times a day. I'm not sure how to arrange this...if I eat breakfast, I'm not hungry for lunch. If I eat lunch I'm not hungry for supper. I forced myself to eat lunch today and it was decidedly unhealthy as if my stomach in cahoots with my taste buds decided that if we were going to force food into it, it had better taste DAMN good. I went to the cafeteria, nothing tasted good. My office mate and I walked by vend-a-heaven and lo! my taste buds stopped me and urged for a gas-station burrito. Although, technically, they would be vend-a-heaven burritos. I could only hope that the machine would be void of burritos. But now, there one sat in all it's textured veggie protein goodness. My stomach assented and now, despite my healthy Fat-Free and almost Fat-free yogurts this morning, I've now introduced 2 million fat calories into my system--and all because I'm supposed to eat thrice a day (I almost wrote thrice daily, but that seems sort of contradictory).

Speaking of yogurt. I had a hard time deciding between flavors. Eventually, I settled for the Fat-free Key Lime Pie and the Low-fat Strawberry and Banana. I ate the fat-free key lime pie first. Not bad. The lime gives it a little tangy kick that put me in mind of warm summer days and refreshing alcoholic beverages. However, the strawberry and banana won HANDS-down in terms of intensity and fullness of flavor, underscoring that it's the fat that tastes good. I realize that this test wasn't exactly empiracal since I didn't really compare the same things, but frankly, in my mouth, yogurt, regardless of it's fruit, tastes pretty much the same to me. Next time, I will take this pilot data and use it for a more thorough trial.

Speaking of fat and calories and bad things in foods and beverages...this weekend, I tried the new Michelob Ultra--which is Mich Light with fewer carbs. A Bud Light has 6.6 grams of carbohydrates per 12 oz., Mich Ultra only 2.6. It tastes okay, but after you have several it no longer matters, which is the point. If you're only going to have 1 or 2 beers, I wouldn't suggest it--and it won't really matter...those 4-8 extra carbs aren't going to break you; however, if you plan on drinking for a long period of time--say at a softball game, or a BBQ, or during an afternoon of bowling, then by all means, the taste sacrifice is worth the number of carbohydrates you save.

Speaking of beers and especially AB products. I learned this weekend, from a bottler who will go unnamed (but I assure you, his name isn't Laverne), that if necessary, AB will run Bud into the Busch line or the Natty Light line, but never the other way around. So, if you've ever had a Natty Light and said to someone, "This tastes just like Bud," remember, it could BE Bud, but the next time, buddy, WATCH OUT.

2002-10-08T17:23:00.000+03:00

Damn and damn. I forgot my library books and they are due today; I wonder if I can renew them without having the books present????

Yesterday, after working out, I drove out to MO BOTTOM to pick up the Pissed-Off Bastard, who's car needs a new fuel pump. We had a couple of ICE cold beers at this dive called "The Airport Chalet." Then, he wanted to take me to dinner somewhere and I'm like, uh, I'm wearing my WORKOUT clothes and my hair is like, um, FLAT. "Okay," he said, "We'll just go somewhere in Soulard then."

This morning he drove in with me to take the Meto Link. He's always looking for short-cuts. (or as he would say, shart cuts):

The POB (as we are walking from my car toward the Shuttle Stop): Isn't there some way we can just cut across there (he points)?
Me: I'm sure there is, sweetie, but the Metro Link station is over there (pointing in the opposite direction.)

2002-10-07T19:12:00.000+03:00

Bowling was fun. It's amazing how "not terrified" I am in this particular group of "strangers." It was a fun thing for a Sunday afternoon.

The weekend, was in general, pleasant. Except for Saturday morning when the POB, who had gone into work to do the billing, called me and needed a ride because his car wouldn't start. After some bullshit along the lines of "...just forget it, I'll find a ride..." (all I wanted to know was if I had time to blow dry my hair first) I told him I'd be there in 30 minutes (he works out near the airport--I'm downtown).

So, there I am tooling out 70 and have just crossed Riverview when my cell phone rings: "You don't even know where I am" he says.

"Where are you?"

"I'm walking down Chouteau."

"Lovely, I'm at Riverview and 70."

Despite the fact that I could have taken the high road (hehe) and just turned around, I took the opportunity to point out that at least 5 minutes passed between the time I hung up and the time I left my house. And, god knows, many more had passed from that time to the time I hit RIVERVIEW. Geesh. And THEN, one of his friends saw him walking and picked him up and he called to tell me that he was going for a drink somewhere, but didn't invite me. As if. "You mean that I'm now sitting in stopped traffic after hauling ass to get your butt and you can't even buy me a drink?????"

I met him at the Cat's Meow. And then Andy from AB gave me a hard time because the POB had to WAIT ON ME. "Andy," I said, "I only have three words to say..." The three words were supposed to be: Lucas and Hunt (which is where I turned around) but Andy said instead: "Fuck off, Andy" and THEN I decided to take the high road and let those be the 3 words instead. Eventually, the POB loosened up some.

I went to Gladstones to get something to eat and saw Russ Anderson play--he's not bad, actually; I bought a CD. His playlist is extensive and has all kinds of stuff on it--from John Denver to the Counting Crows.

2002-10-04T23:47:00.000+03:00

So, I look forward to seeing all of the STLBloggers at Tropicana on Sunday (unless we have tickets for the game)!

Have a great weekend.

2002-10-04T22:15:00.000+03:00

The Hammer has posted!

2002-10-04T18:42:00.000+03:00

One of the themes underlying the blogs I've been reading lately is that of the alter-ego. I don't have one. At least I don't think I do. My boyfriend would beg to differ (he would say, if he were familiar with the reference, "She's Sybil). My mother, the woman, who asked a new mutual acquaintance, "Which Christy did you meet?" after he'd met me for the first time, would also insist that I have several alter-egos. I asked her what she meant. "Sometimes you're haughty, sometimes coquettish," she said, and began to list every personality trait I've ever exhibited.

But none of this is what I mean. I want an alter ego like Clark Kent and Superman or Peter Parker and Spiderman, Diana Prince and Wonder Woman. But not like that either. I don't want to be a hero, I just want to have super powers; I want omnipotence (though I'm willing to work my way up to that).

ENTER: THE HAMMER OF GOD. PUTTING STRAIGHT THE MISTAKES GOD* MADE. The Hammer of God will right her own wrongs (and the wrongs of people she likes and who ask nicely, as long as she agrees and is in the mood).

*Disclaimer: I don't necessarily believe in God, in the regular sense, but THE HAMMER OF GOD does.

The Hammer of God has her OWN web page.

2002-10-03T22:57:00.000+03:00

Damn. Larry emailed me today to tell me he heard that the POB was banned from Molly's on Monday. However, that doesn't really jibe with the POB's story of his movements on Monday. Even before I told him why I wanted to know, the POB denied being at Molly's on Monday and continued to say, "It wasn't me," when I called him back to tell him why.

This upsets me on a number of levels--not the least of which is that this big turn-around of his is based on some sort of freaky-ass LIE--a lie he HAD to know he would get caught in. This is why I'm not sure it's true--the guy who supposedly banned him may not actually recognize him--I'm rarely in Molly's with Jeff and this guy has only seen him a couple of times. Larry initially told me that this guy AND Missy said it was him, but it turned out that SHE didn't see him--Randy just told her--and her ID I'd have to trust. Also, the circumstances don't sound like the POB. For one, he wouldn't leave his seat for 20 minutes and then come back. Even if he planned to be gone briefly, he'd smoke and bring his beer with him. This guy supposedly did. The second reason is that the POB isn't violent and wouldn't pick a fight with anyone at a bar (he only picks fights with me and then only when I insist). However, I could see him accusing someone of taking his cigarettes, but he'd be more inclined to leave and never go back than to pick a fight.

But this really upsets me. If it's true, then I don't think I'll be comfortable in Molly's again, not to mention that I have to deal with the fact that he lied to me. Not just on Tuesday when he told me what he'd done, but also today (twice). Third, it makes me feel like an idiot because I didn't know.

Larry, next time just say nothing.

2002-10-03T19:50:00.000+03:00

For Art (October 3, 1941 - October 3, 1999):

Three years ago this morning, I woke up near 6 am on a Sunday and curled up into a ball and cried. Dan, who had grown used to these sudden crying jags over the last month or so, put his arm around me and said nothing. He learned the hard way I didn't want him to talk. He didn't know Art very well or very long before he got sick and there wasn't anything he could say to comfort me.

I planned to go see Art again that day. It was his birthday and I had bought him a neck scarf. When I was home for Christmas the previous year and sad about Mercer and how we couldn't be together, he gave me his neck scarf and said, "You just need a neck scarf, that's all. A neck scarf will make you feel better." Even when I returned to North Carolina and was feeling down, Art would ask me if I was wearing my scarf.

He was my best friend. Despite our age difference (he was even older than my parents). However, I was apprehensive about visiting him that day. This was because J______ and I got into a fight back in September and as Art's self-appointed caregiver, encouraged his errant son who came up from Florida (after being a no-show for many, many years) not to allow visitors--pointedly, me. It was a cruel, heartless thing to do both to me and to Art, who, by this time, was incapacitated (and may not have known that she wasn't allowing me to visit, but surely wondered where I was).

I feel guilty for not insisting upon seeing him, for NOT making waves. But, I really dreaded confrontation. Additionally, I was in denial with regard to how much time he had left. I maintained contact with his daughter, who was also caught up in all this mess with her younger brother and also a persona non grata around Art's house, where his son had taken up residence and where Art was living out the remainder of his life. On Friday, October 1st, Laurie, Art's daughter called me at work and in the course of our conversation I realized that the younger brother had returned to Florida for one reason or another and J________ was at work. Laurie's other brother was taking care of his father. I left work immediately and after a brief orientation from Art's son, Mike, I walked into the room. He was small and frail and only a science-fiction remnant of the 6'1" 240 lb man I'd known all these years.

Art couldn't talk. The cancer had quickly spread into his brain, but I knew he knew me and I knew he wondered where I'd been. I sat with him for an hour. He picked up my hand and looked at my fingernails, which I'd just had done a few days before. He lifted my eyebrows (I was very vain about my nails and after a manicure, I would flash my hands around and say, "Look at my nails!"). "Well, I like them," I said.

He couldn't speak, but he managed to eke out an "I love you" (although without the consonants). I cried, even though he told me 8 months ago that crying would not be allowed. I held his hand and then promised to come back over the weekend.

It was the first time I understood the word "bittersweet."

Sunday morning at 9:00, as I was agonizing over my impending visit and the possibility of running into J_______ (Mike, the good son, told me he'd clear my future visits with the other son), the phone rang. Barb said, "I guess if I'm calling you this early, you know it's not a good thing."

"You knew this morning," Dan said, when I told him. And I guess I did. Art died on his 58th birthday. I was relieved that his suffering had ended and relieved that I had an opportunity to say goodbye. I didn't cry much in those days after he died. Mostly I felt angry at J_______ for keeping us apart. I know she was always jealous of my relationship with him (she'd known him much longer, but we were much closer), but what she did was irrevocable. I can never get those 2 months back. My mother told me to forgive and forget. I couldn't do it.

He came to visit me often in the following couple of months. I didn't see or hear him, I just felt him there--just like I asked. And then at the end of November, he left. I felt him go. And then I could cry.

I maintained a hatred for J________ for a very long time. And one night, two years later, while I was in the tub, I felt that he wanted me to call her. So, I did. I told her that though we'd probably never be friends again, I just wanted to clear the air so that we could be in the same room together and so that we could be cordial. I kept it short. I didn't want blame to be pushed around, I just wanted to forgive and move on.

I think about him every day; I miss him every day. I miss him saying, "Hi Chris-ty" in that way he did. I miss the predictable emails throughout the day. I miss knowing that there was a rock in my corner.

Your Wildest Dreams
Moody Blues

Once upon a time
Once when you were mine
I remember skies
Reflected in your eyes
I wonder where you are
I wonder if you
Think about me
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

Once the world was new
Our bodies felt the morning dew
That greets the brand new day
We couldn't tear ourselves away
I wonder if you care
I wonder if you still remember
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays
And when the words are
Touched with sorrow
When the music plays
I hear the sound
I had to follow
Once upon a time
Once beneath the stars
The universe was ours
Love was all we knew
And all I knew was you
I wonder if you know
I wonder if you think about it
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams

And when the music plays
And when the words are
Touched with sorrow
When the music plays
And when the music plays
I hear the sound
I had to follow
Once upon a time

Once upon a time
Once when you were mine
I remember skies
Mirrored in your eyes
I wonder where you are
I wonder if you
Think about me
Once upon a time
In your wildest dreams
In your wildest dreams
In your wildest dreams

2002-10-03T18:23:00.000+03:00

This is for Leesa:

Everybody Farts--sung (roughly) to the tune of REMs Everybody Hurts

When you live on your own and the night, the night is yours alone
Eat beans and sauerkraut and when you've had enough, let go
Oh, let yourself go. Everybody poops and everybody farts sometimes.

Sometimes they come very long. Sometimes they come out strong.
Though you're not in bed alone (let go, let go)
if you feel like letting go (let go, let go)
but if you fell it's more than just a toot, well hang on.

Everybody farts. Feel free to fart in bed.
Everybody farts. But,don't cover up his head, oh no. Don't cover up his head.
You feel like you're alone, oh, no, no, you are not alone.

You're no longer on your own, the days and nights are shared
and so though its fun to fart out loud you will be heard, you will be heard.

Well, everybody farts sometimes
everybody poops. And everybody farts sometimes.
And everybody farts sometimes. So, let go, let go.
Let go, let go. Let go, let go. Let go, let go.
Let go, let go. Let go, let go. Let go, let go.
Let go, let go. Let go, let go. Let go, let go.

(okay, as a mere concept night it was funnier--I didn't realize that REM didn't give me much to work with here.)

2002-10-02T23:58:00.000+03:00

I don't think I'm going to work out today; I will work out on Friday instead, yes, that's what I'll do. Or Saturday if we don't go to the ballgame.

I think this week I have cervical cancer, which is sort of a relief from my previous cancer which was colorectal of some sort. Sometimes this job really gets to me. However, treatment for cervical cancer has many life-altering side effects, that might even be worse than rectal or colon cancer. Radiation will cause young women to go into early menopause, plus another risk is the narrowing and shortening of the vagina and painful intercourse (and of course, we all know that I'm already dealing with that issue since the advent of the POB). In addition, icky fistulas can develop between the vagina and the bladder and the vagina and the rectum.

That reminds me of a pregnancy horror story a friend of mine told me when she was pregnant with her first child. A friend of hers had already gone through one pregnancy and thought she'd share the ill-effects of her episiotomy: not long after coming home from the hospital, she sat down on the commode to take a poop and she felt something strange: she looked and by god, it was coming out the wrong orifice (due to a fistula, see).

And I thought I could get through an entire day without talking (or writing) (or reading) about poop.

2002-10-02T19:52:00.000+03:00

I went home yesterday feeling pretty good. Working out generally has that affect on me. I understand that's not so unusual. Anyway, I arrived home, chicken and potatoes already on the grill, the POB in the kitchen wrapping corn in aluminum foil, the dishes done, the floors swept, cold beer in the fridge.

I made note of this without saying much of anything. We sat outside and chatted pleasantly about nothing in particular as I wound down. I asked him where he went last night and he told me that after he left the bar, he bought some beer and went back to his office and "thought." He planned to sleep there, but the place made him uncomfortable so he took a chance and came home.

"One bad thing I did," he started and then hesitated, "I mean, I know I've done lots of bad things to you, but last night I left all those empties in my trash can. I can't imagine what Butch must have thought this morning." I liked the acknowledgement that he knows he hasn't been fair or respectful lately (a long lately).

Later, he wanted to know if I wanted to go to the playoffs and we discussed our available options. It was a very lovely chat. I decided to go upstairs, despite the fact that our conversation had been so lovely, but I was still sweaty and all from they gym. When I stood up, I started to tell him this and he pulled me into a big hug (very unusual), apologized to me and told me that he was going to be better from now on. "One of the things I thought about last night is that I really want to be a normal person again." I can't do anything but believe he can do it, if he wants to, but this is a recurring theme.

Also, I told him I planned to go bowling with the St. Louis Bloggers and though I figured it wasn't his thing, he was welcome to go as well. And, surprise surprise, he took an actual interest and depending on how things progress over the weekend, he might actually accompany me. This is also contingent upon what day we get baseball tickets for and whether or not we play on Sunday.

2002-10-01T23:50:00.000+03:00

I begin my 3 day per week workouts today. I met with the exercise guru yesterday and he has me doing some stretches and then 25 minutes on the treadmill and then 10 minutes on the recumbent (sp) cycle. This is supposed to burn 275 calories per session. That doesn't seem like a lot, but with the changes in my diet that will be coming soon (I've already switched to diet in my Captain and Cokes) it is supposed to help. 10 weeks and I should lose at least half the pounds I'm aiming for. By the first of the year I should be trim and fit again. That will make me VERY happy. I'm not used to being pudgy.

2002-10-01T22:54:00.000+03:00

Okay, my chronic boyfriend syndrome has gotten worse. It's bad enough he keeps coming back, but how can I change the locks if he WON'T LEAVE??? I'm not sure that's what I want, though. I really just want a normal relationship--I'd prefer it be with him--I bitch about him a lot, but I really do love him and he certainly makes my life interesting. I just want to have regular sex and intimacy with someone again. I understand that we can't right now, but even when it wasn't so bad, we didn't (for logistical reasons, mostly). And the lack of sex coupled with another event sort of stunted our growing intimacy early on. I just want things to be different.

He seemed more willing to talk about this today before we were interrupted. Maybe I'll try when I get home.

We really do get on well, at least in terms of the mechanics of living together. With the exception of Eye-talian dressing slathered all over everything, we eat the same foods (well his set of FOODSHE'LLEAT is more of a subset of the FOODSI'LLEAT, but it makes dinner easier).

Who am I fooling? Anyway, it used to be that I didn't have the wherewithall to go through the emotional hassle of a breakup, now I think I'm more afraid of the post-breakup revulsion. You know, the "I cannot believe I dated him" thing. It happens to me every time--eventually I get over it, but I'm not in the mood to deal with it right now.

2002-10-01T18:40:00.000+03:00

The Pissed-off Bastard is about at the end of his rope. Seriously. Last night about 6 or so, he said he couldn't tell me at that point when he might be home, so I suggested that if that were the case, he not come home at all. In fact, I wanted him to be perfectly clear about this so I left him a message at 8:00 or so repeating this information. The phone rang at 2:42 am; I was strong I didn't answer it, didn't give in.

For what that was worth: this morning at 5:30, I went downstairs for water and I heard a noise in the living room. I turned on the light and lo! the POB sleeping on the futon.

Chronic Boyfriend Syndrome. Unfortunately, the only cure for this is lock changing and my health insurance doesn't cover the cost.

2002-10-01T17:48:00.000+03:00

So, this is from ILoveBenBrown

cbean says:
I'm getting mulitple hits on my website from the google search string "ben+brown+ani+moller+divorce" in a variety of combinations. It's true, I do have all these words on my site, but not all in the same sentence...
This, coupled with an enigmatic post on Ani's site, and an emblematic press release at www.benandani.com sounds alarming.
It's also how rumors get started. Perhaps it's just that we haven't had a good meme since the Kayce business???????????

Ben Brown says:
NO COMMENT.

internamy says:
Oy gevalt.

cbean says:
Damn, Ben, I'm sorry...

-hopper says:
yeah. I started wondering about all that last week after the zulkey interview...:
But we got married. And now we live in Austin. And we'll see how long that lasts.
Life: Keeping you on your toes since 197X. Indeed.

jstegall says,Thursday, 26 Sep
A public website is a good place to ask about things like this.

guy_parsons says,Monday, 30 Sep
Like, i know the talk on this message board is pretty fast and free, but 'cbean', there is a time and place for everything, and this is neither the time nor the place for *that*.

benbrown says,Monday, 30 Sep
People:
Thank you for your concern. However, at this time, I'm not going to talk about this subject in public. Sorry!

cbean says,Tuesday, 1 Oct
Guy_Parsons: quite frankly, I'm not talking about anything. I merely asked why I was suddenly getting those particular hits on my website (and the number, by the way, has taken over the number of Kelly Ripa hits). I thought there might be an explanation. And I got it (BBs: "NO COMMENT"). I sent my sympathies and then I shut up. I didn't ask for fucking details so get off my back already. I don't need to be scolded for bad manners.

Interesting, however, that Ani doesn't have the same sort of "protection" on her board.

2002-09-30T18:58:00.000+03:00

My cactus collection is growing. I'm up to 8 different pots and approximately 6 different plants. I need to look them up to see what all I've got. I have one that's about 4.5 feet tall (potted). I know one of them is a very prolific prickly pear. The POB, who helped my neighbor carry over the heaviest, told me that she said they would need to come inside when it gets cold. This presents a problem as I'm not really sure where I'm going to put 8 cactus plants.

2002-09-30T18:55:00.000+03:00

This weekend I read Dean Koontz' "From the Corner of His Eye." Yes, I admit that I read the occassional Dean Koontz book--in fact, I've read most of them. I don't have a good reason, since he's a little over-prolific and writes huge books that could be easily condensed. Call it habit. Anyway, "From the Corner of His Eye" isn't half-bad. Probably I say this because it is a fictional treatment of one of my favorite subjects: quantum physics. I love the theory of quantum physics. One of the reasons I love quantum physics is because it may be the one advanced scientific theory that one can love without having to understand it. In fact, if you claim to understand quantum physics so that you can explain quantum physics, people will laugh at you because as Richard Feynman said, "...no one understands quantum physics." The other reason I love quantum theory is that it explains all the freaky things I believe in but can't explain. Quantum theory gives me hope--I might be screwing up in this existance, but I could be a super human in another. Relatively, in another existance, I could be living a life that makes this one look like a week in Waikiki. In fact, in another existance, I could be living in Waikiki.

So, I was reinspired to pick up my copy of Rupert Sheldrake's "ANew Science of Life: The Hypothosis of Morphic Resonance." Morphic Resonance is also a theory that interests me--it's related, peripherally, to quantum theory, and equally peripherally to Jung's synchronicity and archetypes. In a nutshell: once something is learned by one group, it becomes easier to learn by a similar group. I was first introduced to this when I was dating the plasma physicist (aka Pantomime Dad). He used the following example from Sheldrake (although I will quote from Sheldrake directly): "...if an animal, say a rat, learns to carry out a new pattern of behaviour, there will be a tendency for any subsequent similar rat (of the same breed, reared under similar conditions, etc.) to learn more quickly to carry out the same pattern of behaviour...Thus, for instance if thousands of rats were trained to perform a new task in a laboratory in London, similar rats should learn to carry out the same task more quickly in laboratories everywhere else. If the speed of learning of rats in another laboratory, say in New York, were to be measured before and after the rats in London were trained, the rats tested on the second occasion should learn more quickly than those tested on the first. The effect should take place in the absence of any known type of physical connection or communication between the two laboratories."

Anyway, I love all these theories because they explain the otherwise inexplicable.

2002-09-30T18:23:00.000+03:00

Old Man Charlie Gottschalk died last week. He was a lovely, if not a tiny bit lecherous, old man. I met him when I first started hanging out in the neighborhood (this would coincide with the period I first started dating the Pissed-Off Bastard). Sometimes he would get on my nerves, but mostly he was just as sweet as he could be. He used to bring me stuff--like Crossword puzzle books and little trivets. During the period at the beginning of this year, when I cut back on the number of days I went out, he was banned from the Meow and so I lost track of him.

Saturday, his tenent and side-kick, Alfred came into Nadine's all dressed up. I won't describe what Alfred was wearing because it might distract from the solemnity of the occassion. Through a series of synapse connections I realized what was going on: "Charlie died?" I asked. I cried, silently, but wetly, for this old man who was so sweet to me when I first came to the city.

The POB and I managed not to fight once, though the opportunities for fighting were there. Like when he didn't come home until 6:15 Sunday morning. I knew where he was but the last I'd heard from him was at 6:30 when he told me he was going to play cards. Which is fine, but then he went to the boat and didn't call. That's my BIGGEST peeve and he knows it. Anyway, he came home and said, "Wanna go to breakfast?" So we did. And the rest of the day passed quietly.

Friday night we did go to dinner and it was lovely.

2002-09-27T23:47:00.000+03:00

A friend of mine just emailed me and wanted to know why when I last saw him, back in April, I got so hammered. I didn't really get hammered, actually. Mostly I was nervous and the POB wasn't being particularly social. But my friend said it made him uncomfortable. He went on to ask if I have an alcohol problem. He then went on to ask what happened to the confident assured independant woman that he knew in college? This could make me cry if I let go. First, because I'm not so sure that I was that confident and assured and independant in college, second, if it were the case, I guess the real world got to me somehow. It's easy to be confident, assured and independant when you're skinny, cute, young and subsidized. It's a hell of a lot harder, with 45 more pounds and mountains of bills and actual responsibilities and ticking clocks. In college, you weren't compared to anyone. Now, at my age, people assess you in an entirely different manner: marriage, kids, career, the kind of car you drive. I'm not saying that's bad or even true for everyone, but it's definitely not college anymore. I don't know anyone I went to school with who's exactly the same. In fact, I've probably changed the least, except that my cynicism is a little more entrenched as a personality trait.

It's a good thing I didn't see his email before my appt. with the doctor this afternoon. It was bad enough he made me cry about the POB. The doctor thinks it's time to let him go and I told him I try and I can't. His solution: "Find a better guy." I pay $125/hour (more like 30-40 min.) for that (and my scrip refills).

2002-09-27T23:36:00.000+03:00

Another cameo phone appearance by the Pissed-off Bastard.

I have caller id at work.

"Hi, Sweetie."
"Hi, Honey, how are you."
"I'm okay. How are things with you."
"Fine. Are you having a good day or a bad day?"
"It's okay. Why?" (thinking: if you're about to ruin it, don't)
"Just wondered. What are you doing tonight?"
"I don't know. What are you doing?" (thinking: it'd better not be the boat, bud)
"Wanna go get something to eat?"
"Sure."
"What time are you going to be home?"
"Five. Sweetie, you never call me at work and you never ask me all these questions, what's the deal?"
"I'll write you a check and you can deposit it, so you can have some money, and then I need you to give me some of it, so that I have some money."
"Okay."
"I'm leaving soon (it was 2:30) I'm out of cigarettes."
"Yeah, I guess it doesn't make sense for you to cross the street for cigarettes and then go all the way back to the office."
"What time is it? 2:30. Damn. I thought it was four. Well, I'll be home when you get there."
"Okay, Sweetie."
"Bye, Sweetie."
"Bye."

So, he got paid, and he's making good on paying half the bills. Not bad. That's the longest conversation we've had in a very long time that didn't escalate into screaming or name calling. I'm no chicken counter, though. It's a long weekend yet.

2002-09-27T23:24:00.000+03:00

I am cactus lady. I came home last night to tall, dark, odd shapes. It was too dark to see, but this morning I discovered that they were cactus (or cacti?) Anyway, my neighbor must have brought them over. That makes lets see, 6 she's given me now? Her husband had another stroke and he was the cactus person of their home; since he can't take care of them any longer she asked me if I wanted them. Sure, after all, how hard is it to kill a cactus? I just need to place them around my patio in an attractive manner. She also gave me a Mother-in-Law plant and my neighbor put out some sort of plant or another--it's on its last legs, but it looks like it's coming back. We have ourselves a right little garden, now.

2002-09-27T18:54:00.000+03:00

On a different note: I had fun at the Bloggers meetup. We should definitely do this more than just once a month--just not on Thursdays, at least until the middle of December...

Angeline: we didn't exchange #s. Email me.

It was great meeting Mae and the Geek, Hairy Bruce with the Thong, Young Sam, Fiona (who's named after my cat), John the Joster, joe, Mike (who was also yesterday's Uber author), Leesa and finally, Ben (who was the brawn behind the brains that is STLBloggers).

And it was nice to see Ryan, and Angeline and Vince andDon again, too.

Melissa, sorry you couldn't be there...Also sorry, I screwed up your name the first time I posted this.

2002-09-27T18:37:00.000+03:00

Well, Stegall has determined that ILoveBenBrown is NOT an appropriate forum to discuss BBs impending divorce. I'm puzzled by this. Both Ben and Ani have made their lives VERY public, but for some reason, that only seems to be okay when things are going WELL? In fact, Ben says in an interview with Claire Zulckey "Now, I'm not one to shy away from lots of sex, so I decided that we'd get married. And, long story short, we did. Long story long, we went through nearly a year of horrible INS nightmares, fees, international travel, pet quarantine, rental property headaches, blah, blah, blah. But we got married. And now we live in Austin. And we'll see how long that lasts. We're like celebrities, right? If only there was a tabloid for web personalities, we'd be on the front page."

And this is the price of celebrity. I don't know, there's something to be said about privacy, but come on--

We discussed this last night at the STL Blogger meet...why do you blog? do you blog everything? who do you let see your blog? aren't you afraid someone you don't want will see? For me, this is catharsis, really. I blogged my little heart out when I knew my only audience consisted of exactly 3 people, all of whom I knew personally and all for whom much of the information was redundant. On the up side, there's a lot fewer tortured phone calls from Christy, now that I have some sort of outlet. I don't blog everything. Or, I will blog everything and then edit. For several reasons: one, without proper context, some things can seem other than they really are. Two, sometimes I just don't need people--strangers, friends or otherwise--to wallow in my self-pity pit. Especially, if it's not even particularly meaningful to me. Three, I do feel sometimes like I need to protect the feelings of others. I can't very well go off and rant about someone publicly, if it isn't something the two of us have already discussed. I'd hate to pull up a friend's blog and find out she thinks I'm a worthless piece of shit. That's just not how I'd want that to happen. Besides, my feelings are like the wind. Finally, sometimes people, in their all-consuming search for just a piece of Kelly Ripa, stumble across this page for the first time--and the self-pity or out-of-context drivel will be the first thing they see. In essense, I like traffic. I want people to come back.

I have not shared my blog with my parents or co-workers. In the case of the former, there's really more about me and my life (especially with the POB) than I think they want to know. In the case of the latter, I do most of my blogging at work and I don't want them knowing that and also, I like to keep my work relationships in perspective. I've been burned in the past--in fact, I'm still fairly bitter about it.

I am paranoid that one of my co-workers will find this page. I intentionally leave some identifying features vague so that I can deny it if I choose. I'm not paranoid about my parents. If they find it, fine. If they read it, fine. But I want to hear any comments about specific incidences nor do I want them to feel like they can make judgements on my life. I share with them enough, really, but, for instance, I don't want them to know about how often The Pissed-Off Bastard and I fight. And, like the poem I published on Uber awhile back. I wrote this poem my Junior year in college, it was VERY well received by my instructor (who is a Book Critics Circle Award Winner) and I was momentarily famous around town, and this was before it was published. And then it was reviewed. The reviewer said that while everything else in the magazine basically sucked, someone else's piece of fiction rocked and "C. O'Neill's Love Song showed a fine sense of rage." This I shared with my mother, but not the poem. Never the poem.

However, since I've written so long and hard about my relationship with the POB and shared the details of our life together, I see no reason why I should suddenly feel that our breakup would be too personal. Quite the contrary: we've broken up at least once since I started this blog and I wrote all about it. If people are reading on a regular basis, I think it's appropriate not to leave the story hanging.

I've heard all about Ben and Ani having sex--how often, how good it is, etc. but suddenly a simple sentence like "we're divorcing; it didn't work out; we were too young; I miss New Zealand; it's amicable, whatever" is too personal? Fuck, you wanted to be a celebrity--you claim to be a celebrity--take your lumps like the rest of them. Perhaps its an issue with the INS--however, they're going to find out about it sooner or later; I mean, Big Brother knows when you're sleeping, knows when you're awake, knows when you've written to the Iranian Embassy in Canada, knowing when you divorce is a piece of cake.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I should have emailed Ben or Ani--but I don't know either of them personally, so that would seem a little forward. I posted a comment in the arena that they have shared their lives with their audience. Not the appropriate place? Maybe, maybe not. But Ben, on the other hand, does have the ability to delete the entire string, if he wants, I'm sure.

The bottom line is, if you don't want the attention, don't post teasing little snippets and analogous little stories.

2002-09-26T21:38:00.000+03:00

Ryan is better than you, daily. Read his essay at Uber. (It was published yesterday, but I was e- and i-less yesterday). And, please note: I was the person who suggested he submit it.

In related news, today I have 9, that is NINE, hits resulting from the search string (or something related) "Ben+Brown+Ani+Moller+Divorce". So, somewhere after the 3rd one, I checked her site and was shocked to read: Effective immediately, ANIMOLLER.com will be taking a brief hiatus. Due to unforeseen circumstances, the editor-in-chief will be unable to continue with the duties required of said position. Further details are forthcoming.

On ILoveBenBrown, I mused that perhaps this was a hoax--a meme to outmeme all other memes--and Ben Brown posted: "No comment."

Interesting e-gossip. If the rumors are true, then this makes the second web-begun love affair to perish in the last couple of months. Sarah, of Syrup.org, and the boyfriend she moved from Hawaii to be with broke up recently, too. Oddly, both Ani and Sarah moved to Austin, TX. There may be a lesson in this equal to the lesson of my relationship (don't date guys you meet in liquor stores and don't cohabitate after only 4 days).

I hope my friends Laura and Bill, who were married last December, are doing okay. She moved to Austin to be with him, too. They met on a blind date, though.

2002-09-26T18:02:00.000+03:00

I need help...supposedly with Blog*spot plus I can post pics. I don't know how....anyone out there know?

2002-09-26T18:00:00.000+03:00

I was off yesterday and didn't check any of my stats...but on Tuesday afternoon, my average # of visits per day was 10. Today, the stats say my average per day is 26. Okay.

Also, I'm going to guess that search strings for B-Boy will outnumber search hits for Regis' perky co-host in all their varieties as B-Boy, or Bob Jameson, was named St. Louisan of the Year by the staff at the Riverfront Times. It says a lot about the RFT that while the RFT picked B-boy, the Readers (it was a READER's Poll, by the way, even if that wasn't obvious in the recent edition) picked Jack Buck.

More later, gotta project due by noon.

2002-09-24T17:53:00.000+03:00

Forewarned, is forearmed (or something like that...I have two forearms, but some people only have one, some people don't have any, but I've never seen anyone with three or more). Anyway, the post below is incredibly angst-ridden and self-serving.

2002-09-24T17:52:00.000+03:00

I need to be working. Again, I'm so wallowed in work and my submission deadline is looming large today--in fact, it is today--I can't seem to figure out where to start. I wonder if it's an organization problem or merely the evil spirit Procrastination. However, I have my pills today, so as soon as it kicks in, I should be okay.

Okay, I'm not. I haven't been able to shake off the patina of this last weekend...I'm not sure what's really going on with the Pissed-off Bastard. The realities of his life are starting to really sink in again--sometimes I'm capable of overlooking the obvious and am able to pretend that everything is normal at CasaChristy, but in reality it is FUCKED. I excuse away every little bit: I blame it on his alcohol consumption, or when I feel more magnanimous, I blame it on OUR alcohol consumption (which probably contributes quite a bit), I blame it on his worsening skin condition, I blame it on his depression (but never, ever mine), I blame it on his latent insecurity complex, I blame it on everything and then explain that these are not things he can help and it would be wrong for me to leave him because he's sick.

I feel trapped. I didn't realize this until this weekend, specifically Sunday morning at 2 am, when he ranted and raved at me for 2 hours, often incoherently (well, I could hear him okay--the words just didn't make much sense). He was like a madman. We've fought before and he's said some really mean things to me when we fight when we've been drinking--when we FIGHT (versus argue) we REALLY fight. I think these FIGHTS stem from the fact that we don't have sex (due to his painful skin condition). But Saturday night, he was out of control. I realize that this is just another form of abuse--not unlike when Stephen used to hit me, only in some ways worse because it's not obvious. I wasn't worried that he would hurt me, but I couldn't take the raving any longer--I didn't have anywhere to go: my apartment has an open floor plan: there are no real ROOMS, except for the bathrooms. And I felt trapped. I don't know how to get out of this mess. Lying on the futon, Sunday morning, listening to him ask me rapid-fire questions that had no right answers, I wanted to be back in North Carolina, four years ago.

I hated North Carolina. Mostly because I was profoundly lonely. I have never been that lonely before--it went all the way into my bones and it took a couple of years and 850 miles for me to even recognize that I was, in fact, lonely. And before Sunday, I would have said that I hoped I would never be that lonely again. But, while I was lying on the futon, crying, I hoped that someday I WOULD be that lonely again. Lonely seemed a far more surmountable hurdle than the state I live in now. There is much freedom in loneliness and in retrospect, a certain peace. Many weekends would pass without my speaking to another human being and often, the people I did speak to were vendors of one sort or another. I would spend Saturdays and Sundays virtually conversation free. That could NEVER happen to me now. In North Carolina, there were no expectations and no choices. Most of the time, I had no choice but to pass those days alone. Now I have choices; I have friends here in St. Louis, my family is here, my boyfriend lives with me. When I'm alone, it's out of choice not circumstance and sometimes the choices overwhelm me.

Every Sunday, without fail, I would buy a Sunday paper and show up at 1860s between 11 and 12. I would dole out my sections to the appropriate people and I would stay there until 2 o'clock or so--often winding up at some other bar later--all of this to pass the time while the POB was at the liquor store. And then suddenly, it felt like a chore. One Sunday morning at 10 o'clock, I remember feeling pressure to get in the shower, get ready, so that I could be on time to '60s...I didn't go. And, I didn't go back on a Sunday for months. Partly because the POB stopped hanging out at the liquor store 24/7--I wanted to encourage him to stay home on the weekends--or at least avoid the liquor store (those liquor store days were some dark days in our history, let me tell you). Now, when I have the opportunity--on my way to or from the store, or occasionally, when I want to get out of the house for awhile and the POB is watching golf or starting a fire or something--I go to 1860s and it no longer feels like a chore. Because, self-proclaimed exile or not, the choice isn't there anymore.

Now, I feel similarly about Saturdays: filling the gap while the POB is golfing by hanging out with Larry and those guys some times feels like an obligation. I know I'm not REALLY obligated and that they don't expect me to be out, nor do they particularly care one way or the other, but I feel obligated to myself to get out of the house (I'm sure this is connected to my agoraphobia in some way). I used to take pleasure in the routine--especially after my year in NC--but now I feel trapped.

Maybe this is just a different kind of loneliness...looking at it, I realize that I don't really have any close friends anymore. I don't have anyone I can just call for no reason; I've burned all my bridges when it comes to bitching about the Bastard. When I'm in crisis mode (which happens fairly often) and Larry isn't around, I'm screwed. Granted, I make mountains out of mole hills most of the time, but now that Barb's gone, I don't really have anyone I can just call and say, "Hey, let's go do this." The POB is a big reason--I worry that if I let go of the leash or lengthen it in any way, he's going to go wild and do one of those things that causes me excess anxiety (staying out until 6:30 in the morning without calling, getting hammered at the liquor store, etc.) It's a knee-jerk response to the way things used to be with him, I suppose. Also, he doesn't understand how women can be "just friends" with men and is very skeptical of my friendships. So, it's uncomfortable for me, since all of my local friends are guys, now that Barb's gone. So, I always feel like I'm cheating on him. But this loneliness is the result of choices that I've made, not circumstance.

I never thought I would miss the loneliness I felt in NC, but I would give anything for a little peace right now, regardless of the form it takes.

2002-09-24T00:18:00.000+03:00

I just took a walk through the South Campus--first to get signatures and then to the pharmacy. Here are some observations: If you get on a crowded elevator and you are standing in front of the door and the elevator stops, but not on your floor, get off the elevator and let whomever pressed the button get off. Obviously, if no one's getting on, it means someone wants to get off (or both). But move your hiney, please.

If you are picking up a prescription, please stand in line behind the sign that says, "Please wait for next pick-up window." If for some reason, someone offers to help you and you aren't really NEXT because you are in the wrong line, please allow the person who was waiting before you to go ahead of you. There's a correllary to this: if you are the person behind the window and you SEE the person who's next in line, WAIT ON THAT PERSON first.

The pharmacy here is pathetic--but it's easier than going to Walgreens. Sort of. At least, it seems easier at the time I place the prescription. Picking it up is generally more of a hassle...

2002-09-23T23:11:00.000+03:00

And then there's this story...first, it's scary since the robbery happened at 8th and Geyer, near two places I frequent regularly (Molly's and 1860's) and an intersection at which I often park. Second, it's odd that I didn't hear the gun shot--It happened in the 900 block of Allen, which is not very far from my place (the 1200 block of Victor), and I was awake then. On the other hand, that's about what time I woke up for good this morning, so maybe that's what did it...or maybe .380s don't make a lot of noise.

And how on earth did he shoot himself in the mouth if he were handcuffed behind his back? I just tried it, using my stapler, and I can't aim anywhere close to my mouth. Something seems a little fishy...

2002-09-23T22:48:00.000+03:00

I am very busy today (and tomorrow). It's deadline week. This month, I have a record 7 studies going--

Terrible weekend. The POB and I fought every night (except last night). About money. And the fact that his boss didn't do payroll, so he didn't get a check and I wanted to know what was going on--he lives with me, I think I have a right to know this stuff...he didn't argue that point, but didn't want to talk about it either. We fought Friday night and we broke up. As in, it's over. I woke up about 5 in the morning and he was there, next to me, in bed. Saturday, when this happened all over again (for the same reasons) I kicked him out, he left his key. His clothes? Well, I crawled out onto the roof and tossed one basket down to him. The other basket? I set it on the edge of the roof, got a slight running start and kicked it off. It was so pretty, the way it tumbled ass over teakettle, the POB's bright clothing streaming out of it against the clear blue sky.

He came home at 2 am and then kept me awake all morning. We eventually made up (don't we always) but I'm super tired today.

As a result of all this fighting, I didn't get any sleep--or rather, got weird sleep, interrupted sleep, restless sleep. Which is not good the weekend before deadline day.

The satellite guys never came on Saturday; I spent an hour on the phone with Directv about this--bottom line, the service call will be free, plus I'm getting credit for having no TiVo and not having service in its entirety (I'm missing some stations because of the dish problem).

I read a lot this weekend--you'd think I wouldn't have had the opportunity with all the fighting I did, but I read Travels with Lizbeth by Lars Eighner. Wasn't bad, but wasn't the scion of "down-and-out" literature it was hyped to be. Eighner and his dog, Lizbeth lived on the streets for 3 years and this is his memoir. A couple of things: interestingly, the person and the dog on the cover of my edition (paperback) are not the same as pictured on the edition available through Amazon, depsite the fact that the rest of the cover looks identical (a map of Texas). But the person pictured on my cover doesn't resemble the person described in the book, nor does the dog, really. The person and dog on the Amazon cover do, however. Plus they resemble their pictures. Another thing: no long after the publication of the book, he was on the streets again. This article is a first person account from a friend of Eighner's. In some ways, Eighner reminds me of my friend, Bob, who used to live in his car at Westport before management towed it--he lived there for a couple of years--now he takes up residence on one couch or another.

I started The Corrrections by Jonathan Franzen. He's the guy that 1) had the beef with Oprah regarding being an Oprah selection and then went on to be a nominated Pulitzer finalist for The Corrections. The Corrections is far more readable than The Twenty-Seventh City, which I cannot get into despite the fact that it takes place in St. Louis, but is still a little Anne Tyler for me to make it a really enjoyable book (don't get me wrong, Anne Tyler is a wonderful writer, but her books carry with them all this sadness)...

Oh, and I was RIGHT, RIGHT, RIGHT and I so love to be RIGHT. At least I think I'm right. Well, at the VERY least, I'm HALF RIGHT, which is about half as good as being RIGHT.

2002-09-20T21:37:00.000+03:00

I added a new tracking system from Blog*spot Plus and need to see if it's working...

2002-09-20T21:29:00.000+03:00

I have SO much work to do by Tuesday I seem mentally and physically incapable of beginning it. It's like quicksand, really, the more you attempt to get out of it, the more mired you become. I think I'm going to take the rest of the day to get organized and come in tomorrow or Sunday. The Pissed-off Bastard golfs tomorrow but the satellite guys are coming between 8 and noon to fix my dish. But, damn, the Rams aren't playing until Monday, so we could potentially DO something (yeah, right) on Sunday. I guess it depends on when the satellite guys come and go.

I can't believe it is Friday already.

2002-09-19T23:59:00.000+03:00

One of my pub tricks is always knowing when a couple is on a first date. And, in that same spirit, I can usually spot a couple before the couple spots themselves. And, Ryan, that's ALL I'm going to say.

2002-09-19T23:51:00.000+03:00

This is another wonderful example of social programs for the homeless that should work. Thanks to Kofuzi for the link to the article. It's too bad Mr. Bob is dead--I bet he would have helped out. But, now his son runs the print shop and he isn't as socially-minded.

2002-09-19T17:24:00.000+03:00

All week long, I have forgotten to mention that JC Corcoran IS BACK and nothing short of winning the lottery or the POB becoming the man of my dreams could make me happier. Interestingly, he's on 96.3 in the mornings. Well, that's not what's interesting. What's interesting is that his co-host is non other than John Ulett. For those of you familiar St. Louis radio, you'll remember that JC and John formed the first Breakfast Club on KSHE back in 1984. There were a couple of other people on with them, DJ something or other and some young guy, I think. It was a long time ago. Anyway, I don't think John has broadcast on a radio station other than KSHE since the seventies...

2002-09-19T17:11:00.000+03:00

I made it to the Meet-up last night. I don't normally do these kinds of things, but I had a good time. It's pretty cool to meet people in person, after you've been following them online. For the record, Ryan is straight, despite the fact he lives in the CWE and I heard him mention The Loading Zone. .

Angeline knows WAY too much about cars for the average woman and NO ONE is too short for a manual transmission; you could always put blocks on the clutch...

A few things sort of started to come together last night and methinks there's a budding romance in the air. There may be a St. Louis version of Benand Ani or Don and Michelle or Julie and Jason in the making...I'm just saying.

2002-09-19T00:45:00.000+03:00

Okay, okay. I'm PROBABLY (that's a step up from possibly and two steps up from maybe) going to be at the STL Bloggers Meetup-thingy. Applause won't be necessary but appreciated. For those of you who are only skimming this, that was applause, not applesauce (though I'd appreciate that as well).

2002-09-18T23:20:00.000+03:00

Always the last to know: Warren Zevon has terminal lung cancer that's metastasized to his liver. I will never see him perform live.

I think I heard something on NPR or saw an article somewhere entitled: "Warren Zevon on Death and Dying" or something, but I thought it was an old link that had to do with his next-to-latest album, "Life'll Kill Ya." Wow. I love Warren Zevon.

2002-09-18T17:24:00.000+03:00

On my way from the shuttle depot I was handed a tract from Jews for Jesus. I seriously thought they were just a myth--or a long-ago bit from some talk show host's monologue. But no, they are real. However, the front of this pamphlet says, "Ten out of ten Jewish doctors recommend Jesus?" I didn't think 10 doctors could agree about anything.

2002-09-17T22:15:00.000+03:00

I have nothing to rant about today, nothing to discuss. It's raining now and cool and I'm going to the library to return my books and then I'll pick a few out and then I'll snuggle up in some sweats and sit on the back steps, watch the rain and drink a hot cup of cocoa--no, wait, I hate chocolate. (Take two from drink...)...a hot cup of tea--um, not very convincing. (Take three from drink...)...a nice snifter of rum and coke. I wish I had some Courvoisier.

I do now have some cool schwag courtesy of my mother. She gets all of these pharmaceutical bags and I really discovered that I have a need for one--especially in terms of lugging my library books all over creation. So, she gave me two big zipper bags (Procrit) and a canvas briefcase (Xeloda). One of the bags I gave to a girl in my office, because we talked about it. I'm so excited...I can lug my library books in comfort and with the briefcase, I can lug all my meeting junk in pure pharmaceutical style.

Speaking of my mother. She called today to tell me that she signed me up "for something." And I paid, too, she said. It's some sort of nutrition/diet/exercise program run by the BJC WellAware Center. I go for my baseline screening on Thursday. I think I'll start a pool regarding my baseline weight. For those of you who've seen me, I'm 5'2 if that helps you guess. It's a dollar a chance and we split the winnings (I'm no Big Daddy, after all). Anyway, I'm looking forward to starting this business, whatever it is, exactly. Perhaps it'll be the jump start I need, plus I'll get to bond with my mother. We didn't get enough of that, apparently, while I was in the womb.

Note: it is very, very strange for some reason to be watching 90210 at 6 am.

2002-09-17T01:03:00.000+03:00

One last thing. I've noticed not one but TWO search strings on my log for "(Regis' perky co-host) + Mark + Consuelos + Separation." I wonder if there's any truth to this rumor. Because if so, my stock goes down--way down. No longer will I be able to say my first date was with Regis' perky co-host's brother-in law. Additionally, Mark isn't on All My Children anymore so I can't even resort to saying that my first date was with Mark Consuelos' brother.

Damn.

2002-09-17T00:30:00.000+03:00

Sunday, I went on a cleaning frenzy that included unpacking as many boxes of books as my currently-constructed bookshelves will hold. We figured out where I could put the other two that are not yet assembled and I have some boxes that have stuff other than books that I don't know what to do with. However, it's all nice and clean (though I'm not going to Murphy the floors downstairs until the boxes are unpacked) and y'all can come visit. Hurry, though, this won't last long.

2002-09-17T00:22:00.000+03:00

Okay, I've RSVP'd to the Blogger Meet-up; however, I suspect that there's a strong chance that I won't make it. First, in addition to having sleep paralysis and a totch of narcolepsy, I am officially afflicted with agoraphobia and Clayton might be too far out of my play range. Second, strangers scare me.

But, there's a few people I've wanted to meet and so as Ben Stein says, "I shall do my best."

BTW: what's Blogrollers.com? I saw a search string in my log and I clicked on it and there's a bunch of blogs listed, but I don't know who's listing me. Hmmm...

2002-09-16T23:56:00.000+03:00

Monday Mission

1. Do you have a favorite piece of poetry or prose written by someone else? Care to share it?
Poetry might be easier to tackle (I read about 5-7 books a week--my favorites list is endless). Anyway, my absolutely favorite poem is "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." Known to we LitHeads as merely "Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot.

2. In High School, did you enjoy creative writing? Do you currently do any other writing in addition to your Blog?
Oh, sure. I did a lot more creative writing in high school than probably at any other time in my life. In college I majored in English and took several poetry labs, but since then I've tapered off. Only recently (perhaps as a result of my blog) I have done a lot more "creative" writing. You can check out the stuff I've had published at Uber, Ben Brown's Web Zine (in the archives as C. O'Neill), or I have some stuff on a sister site to my blog.

3. Have you ever noticed that the Blog entries you least expect to get the most comments do, and those you expect to generate a lot of feedback don't? Which Blog entry of yours surprised you by getting a lot of comments? Which one did you think would generate a lot but didn't?
I don't get a lot of feedback on my Blog--I get alot more since I've begun to SOLICIT feedback but nothing to the effect that say RatBastard elicits. I am not surprised, however, that I do get most of my feedback when I write about controversial issues (because normally I'm in the opinion of the minority).

4. Sometimes you get a chance to make a lifestyle change that has a huge impact on the course your life takes. That is, a moment where something became very clear to you, and that realization changed your life, such as: the need to leave a relationship, to stop an addiction, to bond with someone, to start a new career, and so on. Have you ever had an "awakening" moment in your life?
Nothing that specific. I've made a lot of changes that have affected my life good and bad. Most recently, I made two changes that have had a big impact--First, I moved from the suburbs to the City almost 2 years ago and that's changed my life fairly profoundly. Also, I switched careers and I'm finally doing something that I really love to do and that actually serves humanity, rather than taking from it.

5. Then there are other times where you can have a huge impact on someone else's life. You suggest they see a doctor, stop them from taking that last drink, or maybe just say some kind words at the moment. Have you made a lasting positive impact on the life of someone else?
Hehe...my boyfriend would probably say that he wishes I'd never walked into that damned liquor store the day we met...however, about 5 years ago, my best friend from high school, who wrestled with his sexual orientation, told me that he'd never had gotten through high school if it weren't for me--that meant a lot.

6. Are there any charities or organizations which you support? How did you come to be involved with them?
No, not really--I support causes in ideological ways, but I don't contribute to charities--mostly because I have no money. Wait, I take that back. Once I wrote a check to the Sinn Fein and I recently elected to contribute to the United Way through my employer.

7. Care to collaborate with me? Help me out and write the rest of this poem:

I drifted though a dream last night,
visions full of colors bright.
My thoughts began to drift to you,
and in an instant we were two.

I touched your hand,
We began to blend,
Filled with a feeling
that should have no end.

They say that waking up is hard to do...

2002-09-16T23:23:00.000+03:00

Our little one IT guy really pisses me off. He's not the King of IT--that guy I like. This one? He's the guy that runs around and fixes things and does updates and stuff. But what really irritates me is that when he's coming by to do a an update or something not specifically requested, he just shows up--unannounced--and expects you to just drop everything immediately. Urgh...

2002-09-16T23:14:00.000+03:00

It's amazing how couple's learn their own shortspeak. This is an actual conversation from my house on Saturday morning.

"Who went first, you or me?"
"You."
"That's right, you turned off the mafia."
"You weren't watching. Who won the game?"
"How would I know, you tell me?"

Translation:
"Which of us fell asleep first."
"You."
"That's right, you turned off the Biography Marathon about Mobsters that I was listening to, even if my eyes weren't open."
"You were asleep. Biography sucks, I wanted to see the end of the game. Who won?"
"How the fuck am I supposed to know, you said I fell asleep first."

2002-09-16T22:28:00.000+03:00

This weekend, I had a close call with the St. Louis City Jail. Lord knows I shouldn't be drinking and driving, but I definitely shouldn't be drinking, driving and turning left on red, even if the coast looks clear and even if it's in the most abandoned area of town. However, I saw flashing lights behind me at Broadway and the Bread Company (near the barbarshop), I pulled over, grabbed my license.

"Do you know why I pulled you over?"
"No, sir."
"You went through a red light back there."
"Oh, damn. You know, I've done it before--for some reason, if there's no cars, I always forget it's a stop light and not a sign. I'm really sorry."

So, meanwhile Cop #1 goes and runs my license, while I look for proof that the vehicle is mine--I'm rifling through my paperwork and finally, Cop #2 says, "Don't worry about your insurance right now."---(INSURANCE--hell, I hadn't even thought about finding proof of insurance)---"Have you had anything to drink today?"

"A couple of beers with lunch."
"Where were you coming from."
"Chinese Food--see?" I rattled my sack.
"Where were you before that?" And without missing a beat I said,
"Home."
"Where's home?"
"12th and Victor."
"Say your alphabet for me." I did that.
"Count backwards from 53 to 32."
"Count backwards? Not subtract?"
"Yeah, count."
"Um, okay." I did that, too. For some reason, I wasn't even nervous (maybe that's how toasted I was?) and I think it showed, because Cop #1 came back and Cop #2 just shook his head at him and they let me go.

I think part of the reason I wasn't nervous was that I was in the city (though I'm not sure they were city cops) and the city is generally more lenient than county cops (more REAL crime, you know--and that 1% city tax--they don't need to fill up jail cells just to generate revenue.

2002-09-16T17:12:00.000+03:00

I have a project that needs to be finished before noon so I'll post later...

2002-09-13T23:09:00.000+03:00

Hmm...I've been having a hard time getting to work the last couple of days--because I couldn't get on 40 from Clark. Yesterday, I thought it was a fluke and wound up having to make a loop to get on Market Street and exit there. It was a pain in the ass, but I did it again today. Today, though, I just turned around, went back down Tucker to Chouteau to 14th to the exit.

That'll teach me to be an anti-9/11-ite. If I'd only watched the damn news or something I would have known that we were on some sort of alert color that causes blockades to be set up around the federal buildings. On the up side, I got to see Officer Grimes, the best looking cop in the city of St. Louis.

2002-09-13T23:01:00.000+03:00

Have I mentioned how much I dislike Jill Posey-Smith of the Riverfront Times? I don't think I have. Someday, I'm going to write one of those scathing letters, but then I look and see that someone already has.

2002-09-13T16:57:00.000+03:00

Transcript from History Class Notes

It really drives me crazy that this prof. says, "right?" and "ok?" at the end of every sentence. My cousin in Oklahoma does it and it really is nerve grating.

4/10 right on my quiz last week. Not too bad considering I DIDN'T HAVE THE TEXTBOOK. This week I'm sure I got at least 9 correct. But check out this question from last week's quiz:

President Grant's Administration saw:
A. A severe economic recession, numerous incidents of corruption, and enormous success for railroads.
B. Widespread criticism for Grant's part in the Civil War, labor violence, and a satisfactory resolution of the dispute over war damages owed by Great Britain.
C. Corruption at all levels of government, a severe economic depression, labor violence, and an attempt to annex Santo Domingo to provide the freedmen with a new home.
D. labor violence, civil service reform, little corruption and a major depression.

Or this one:
Abraham Lincoln's and Andrew Johnson's reconstruction plans shared the following points of emphasis:
A. reconciliation, rapid restoration of the civil government in the South, full amnesty to ex-rebels, and ratification of the 13th amendment.
B. rapid restoration of civil government in the South, reconciliation and limited black voting
C. rapid restoration of civil government in the South, reconciliation, confiscation of rebel property and full amnesty to ex-Confederates.
D. rapid restoration of civil government in the South, reconciliation, confiscation of rebel property, pardons for most ex-rebels, and ratification of the Thirteenth amendment.

See what I mean?

Wait. Ohmigod. Was that me just now, contributing to the discussion? I think so. And, of course, it was genious contribution, if I do say so myself. Whoops. There I go again. I think I'm becoming dangerous.

The main branch of the St. Louis City library and several branches are Carnegie libraries. Not the one I frequent, though. And the Car-NEG-gy/CAR-neg-gy debate is settled. Andrew Carnegie is one of the instructor's "research interests" and he pronounces it "Car-NEG-gy.

Am I taking a college class? This girl in front of me has a Rainbow Brite pocket folder three-ringed into a zipper binder.

David Lee should be banned from speaking. Seriously, he seems to have a genuine problem forming coherent sentences. That's the kind of thing that should be DISALLOWED.

At least this class is more interesting than the last. Maybe it's that I no longer am worried about the pronounciation of Carnegie's name. I'm happy because it's the pronounciation I like best.

Tick mark time and we aren't even to the break yet. There's 17 of them (but only 16 get ticked-off. 17 is 9 pm). I'm going STRAIGHT home. I feel bad. I screwed up the satellite dish signal downstairs and couldn't do anything about it tonight because of this class. I can't figure it out. I went up to the roof last night to tighten down the receiver arm, only to discover it needs a bolt. All the connections seem to be connected properly, but I can't get a signal on Sat 2. Upstairs, everything's fine (except I'm not receiving SoapNet or TVLand. I get the header, but a blank screen--not even a message saying, "to subscribe, etc.etc."

Rainbow Brite is sleeping and snoring. I woke her up once, but she's sleeping again. Maybe it's narcolepsy. Now she's writing in her notebook, in big loopy letters, "I am sleepy for no reason." She drew a heart next to that. I am stunned by the collective stupidity in this class--as in figuring out simple things like the syllabus.

I thought I was going straight home. Now I want a drink. In a bar. I still think the quiz prior to discussion is ass-backwards. I think writing the paper prior to the discussion is also ass-backwards. Deal is: we're adults, college students. I think we should not be tested to see if we read the assignments; we should be tested on whether we understand the material..

How on earth did these people get into Wash U???? Granted, some of us are not going through a degree program, but a lot of us are.

Tick mark interlude: 2 more down; 8 to go.

Interesting fact. If Lincoln, who died in 1865 would have suddenly awakened from a cryogenic sleep in 1900, the world would seem more foreign to him than if we went back in time 102 years.

The future mayor of St. Jacob is wearing a shirt, a work shirt, a striped work shirt with 2 patches. One says, "Randy's Towing and Hauling." The other says, "Randy." I wonder if it's his business?

I realized from where I got the phrase "Futon City" to describe banishment from the bed to the living room. "16 Candles." I watched it over the weekend. Sam comes into the kitchen and says, "...but there's a weird Chinese guy in Mike's room," her mother explains that he's a foreign exchange student staying with her grandparents. "Where am I supposed to sleep?" Sam asks. Mike responds: "Sofa City, sweetheart." 35 more minutes.

Shit. Are we getting out of here early? No way. But it does sound like he's wrapping up and it's not quite 20 of. Hurray.

2002-09-12T17:58:00.000+03:00

I took the day off yesterday. What a great day--the temperature was in the low 80s (I think) and it was absolutely gorgeous out--fall is on the way and I can't wait.

For the most part, I had a 9/11-free day. The coverage was on at the Meow at 8 am and I was appalled by those people who were leaving the roses in the memorial wearing LEIS. I mean, that seems a little inappropriate for a memorial service. Unless it were for Jimmy Buffett or something. And how about that woman who is the mother of "the gay man" from flight 93? She actually told Matt Lauer (whose haircut makes him look like he just got out of prison) that "it is a pleasure being here" at the end of her interview. I remember this woman from last year--she totally soaked up publicity without ever once looking like she was mourning the loss of her son. She truly looked as if she were enjoying the experience.

I watched more coverage at the Shanti, but I finally busted out of there a little before 9 and went to Eat-Rite and spent a glorious 9-11 Free hour eating a slinger and reading the most recent Easy Rawlins mystery. I wasted a good portion of the beautiful day by napping (to the dulcet dialogue of a "Little House on the Prairie" marathon). I didn't get to Molly's until 4:30.

When I got home, the POB was in a much better mood, thanks in most part to the vodka he consumed in my absence. I accused him of loving me again. And he said, "Didn't I write 'I love you' in your birthday card?" "Well, you put Love, J_____." "Same thing," he said.

2002-09-11T00:23:00.000+03:00

Sleep Paralysis:

Though I've experienced sleep paralysis for as long as I can remember (as early as 3 or 4 years old), I never knew it was a common exprience, nor did I know it had a name. It is so weird to look at a list of features of sleep paralysis and say, wow, I do that, I have that. Click on the link above for a table of features. I don't get the choking or strangling or chest smooshing sensations, but most of the rest of it happens (not everything happens every time, but I've experienced most of the list at one point or another). It's related to narcolepsy. I may have a little bit of that as well--I thought that the symptoms of narcolepsy have to be extreme and frequent, but they don't, and every so often I have those sudden urges to sleep during the day--inappropriately. It's happened at work and most recently, it's happened at Molly's and Nadine's within several minutes of being at either place, so it wasn't too much alcohol or too much sun. It's so nice to have these things explained.

This evening, I'm meeting an old friend from high school/college. In fact, the night I wrote the poem, I fled to his apartment when I discovered my ex-boyfriend/next-door neighbor/inspiration for the poem on my front porch with my roommates. The ex was still there when I returned from Brian's and thus a poem was born.

2002-09-10T23:47:00.000+03:00

My mother insisted that I go to the FEMA website to check out the photos/slide show. The destruction DOES touch me as do all the deaths--ALL I'm saying is that this needs to be put in perspective. On NPR this morning, several people who lost family members spoke about how they feel about all the 9/11 attention. One woman said it was making it difficult to put it behind her. Another said that because of all the attention, she will always be a 9/11 Widow--she's lost her own sense of personal grief--she has to share it with a nation. Another woman said that every time she hears "9/11" she thinks of her mother's murder. The same woman said that everytime she watches Flight xx slam into the x Tower, she's watching her mother's murder.

When the attack happened, there were a couple of women in my office who said they cried for several nights in a row--despite the fact that they knew no one injured, killed or missing or living with 200 miles of any of the crash sites. That is emblematic of all the gratuitous grieving and patriotism that has me so bugged. So, call me cold. I don't really give a shit. But when this happens the next time (and it will) the headlines will be "Didn't We Learn Anything from 9/11???????" The answer is no. As a nation we've spent more energy memorializing people and trying to get the national anthem changed and making flags and 9/11 bumper stickers and anti-Taliban/Al Queda/bin Laden propaganda than we have on preventing something like this from happening again. Increased security measures at the airport, at the border, in the INS computers aren't going to make a difference. The only thing that can come CLOSE to preventing another attack is US policy change. Maybe someone will figure that out so that all of those people didn't die in vain.

2002-09-10T20:41:00.000+03:00

Transcript from the regulatory meeting 10 am.

I'm in one of those meetings I shouldn't be in. Granted I HAVE contributed. I short-circuited a conversation in which the lay eople wanted to be able to enter NA in certain date fields in one of the areas of the database, instead of leaving the data 00/00/0000 (from here on out known as "the zeros").

"Chuck," I said, "haven't we discussed this? Isn't there a system reason we can't do this?"
"That is correct." So I saved myself 20 minutes of fruitless discussion.

I'm here, obstensibly because I'm the database "liaison." That is, I'm supposed to translate between the office-at-large and Chuck the IT Guru (because in terms of users, I'm the "database guru." Yeah, right. I do nothing with the database anymore, except attend weekly database meetings with the Guru and the Boss--for no reason. She tells him what she wants, I just sit and listen.

Ooh, wait, I see another opportunity to contribute: "Chuck, when you say that if the zeros appear, 'it's gonna look like there's something wrong with the data,' what are you speaking about? Is it the system that's going to think there's a problem or a human being."
"A human being."
Then let's fix the report so that the notes show. I mean, we aren't talking about a lot of variables and they'll ususally be the same ones--there isn't a single one of us in this meeting that won't be able to figure out if it's a data entry error or a valid entry or not. Come on. I think my boss just wants to be able to hire stupid people. With the turnover rate coupled with the maternity rate around here, I think she wants to increase her candidate pool.

C in the corner just pronounced this acronym: QASM as QWAS-IM. Sounds like Jewish holiday, comes right before Purim. It's pronounced KAS-IM. And there isn't a single person in the cancer center who's been here longer than 3 days that doesn't know that. And she works with that damn committee all the time.

I just pinched A about this. We were making of fun of the words people use and the way they pronounce them yesterday and I told her that I'd pinch her the next time someone does something like this. However, she jumped about 3 feet in the air.

Can I GO yet, already...this is not one of my regular meetings. It's 11:30; I've been here since 10 and I have a GAS-STATION BURRITO waiting for me.

(I was released not long after writing that last sentence--for good behavior. But, please note that is is now 12:40 and the rest of those people ARE STILL UP THERE!!!)