Family fun

I hung out with my cousin today. We didn't really do anything, and that was totally fine. I need to do more nothing with other people. It's good for me.

Friday night I went to my parents' for dinner. My grandfather came, too, and started crying at the end of the meal, saying, "This was the first nice family dinner I've had like this in ten years." It was sweet and sad. "Well you'll have to come over more often," my parents told him. It's a shame my aunt is so nuts/controlling. Life would have been easier had my grandfather moved closer to my parents' house instead of my aunt's. It's been nice having him in the area, though, as he's terrible at phone conversations and I never used to see him without the entire family, and the entire family is very intense. I thought he was much more cold, distant, and apathetic than he really is. He's funny. You should hear him talking about the "old biddies" at his apartment/retirement home thingy. He said at dinner that he'd always intended to be a mean terrible grouch when he got old but could never quite pull it off. I started asking him questions about family history and recording it. I should have done it sooner and had it all ready and written up for his 90th birthday, but oh well.
His big 90th birthday party will be on my actual birthday. Big sucky. I think I'll just demand that cousins take me out after and get me drunk. It looks like we'll be in Deerfield, IL, but there has to be somewhere we can go. Otherwise, I will be very cranky and bitter. Birthdays are important to me, and thanks to that whole weekend being round-the-clock family "fun" time, it's not like I can even really go out a different night. Laaaaaaame.

My brother hasn't been doing too well, but you'd think my mom was the one with the actual depression. She's doing a fabulous job proving to me that I made the right choice in hiding my own psychological malbeing from her. I can't imagine her response is in any way helping my brother, as it sounds like they're slipping into their own little world of misery together. I want to kidnap my brother and send my mom to therapy, but I'm not actually the parent, so I get to sit here and bang my head against the wall. I know not everyone's depression is the same, and that my brother's depression is different from mine, but I at least know the demon and that it can be tamed and that adding on yet another pill isn't the answer. My mom, the therapist, seems to think adding pills is the answer. My brother thinks it's stupid and that there are actual life issues causing the depression. But he says therapy doesn't help and it's school that's making him miserable so he can't stop doing that. I suggested he figure out what it is about school that's the problem and try to get rid of that, but I'm just the sister and that's the point at which I'm forced to butt out. It's understandable, but it's hard because I watch my mother (who is extremely well-intended and really wants the best for him) impose on him what she thinks is the problem and solution and is just so sure she's right while she says "I'm not sure I'm right" that reality doesn't have room to enter the picture. And I totally do the same thing, where I'm so sure I'm right in my own interpretation of everything that's going on, but at least I have the self-awareness to recognize that I actually am acting on my own perceptions and not necessarily my brother's, and isn't his what needs to count in this situation? Maybe all these people who are so sure they know what's best for him is causing his depression. It certainly didn't help mine, and I didn't have two older sisters being added to the mix. As Brian pointed out the other night, at least I don't live with my family. I have my nice little hole to hide in and I don't have to see or speak to them every day so I have time to gather myself and reacquaint myself with reality. But I have thought about putting myself back in therapy to deal with my mother's dealing with my brother. Basically, if she won't see someone (and then maybe possibly not dump so much on me, even when she's trying not to dump stuff on me, because at this point it's spilling out of her eyeballs), then I have to.
Ooh, bad visual analogy: my brother is a large bucket with a few leaks, spilling into my mother who is a tiny bucket with many leaks, spilling into me. My leaks are all covered in duct tape, but if my mom won't do anything to stop up her holes, I'm going to need some help collecting all the water.

I bought three large boxes of Kix today at the grocery store because they were on sale, as was milk. I. Love. Kix.


These test results worry me greatly:

Your 80s Heartthrob Is

Bill Gates

Who's Your 80's Heartthrob?

Plans

Summer option C: do any job the aquarium will give me. This is the one I'm hoping for most, but we'll see. I emailed them Monday to inquire and then tonight I sent my resume with a cover note that sounds a bit too much like begging. No matter what, I think Option A is out. I did a little math with the hours and being a counselor for the little guys works out to over $12 an hour. The art position ends up being under $11/hour, and I'd then feel obligated to spend another 3 hours doing the babysitting thing, so I'd be doing 9 hour days 5 days a week all summer, and in charge of other people's children the entire time, which isn't exactly relaxing.

I actually have plans this weekend. Nothing specific, but a general plan to hang out with my cousin on Sunday. Having plans in advance makes me feel special.

My parents offered to pay for a maid service to clean my apartment once a month or so. I feel like cleaning is really not that difficult and I should do it myself and that a maid service is incredibly bourgeois and cable TV isn't even in my budget and I hate having my parents pay for my living expenses. But then again, I am a fucking pig. I didn't even successfully clean up for the last time I had people staying here. If I ever actually have friends that I want to invite over, something will need to change. I don't know. Would having Mommy and Daddy paying for someone else to clean up my messes make me a bad person? Why am I so awful at maintaining a reasonable living space?

things about me

I know these are completely uncreative but they are fun. Thank you, Elizabeth.

THINGS ABOUT ME...
Sex?: nun
Straight/gay/bi?: Straight
Single?: yes
Want to be?: for now
Age you wish you were: Eh, this age works
The color of your eyes: blueish greenish greyish
Piercings? one per ear
Tattoos: I have a book of temporary ones around here somewhere...

DO YOU...
Smoke: No
Read the newspaper: Yes, though mostly in online form
Talk to strangers who IM? no
Take walks in the rain: Yes, but usually it's with the dog
Drive: '96 Toyota Camry
Like to drive fast? Yes
hurt yourself: does picking at scabs count?

HAVE YOU...
Been out of the country: Austria, Belgium, Canada, England, France, Germany, Hungry, Italy, Kenya, Netherlands, Scotland, Spain, Switzerland, and Tanzania
Been in love: Yes
Done drugs: barely (unless you count my bazillion prescriptions)
Gone skinny dipping: no
Had a surgery: only wisdom teeth
Ran away from home: I used to hide behind the couch while my sister threw temper tantrums
Played strip poker: Yes
Gotten beat up: knocked around a bit but never a real beating
Gotten on stage: many times for many things
Slept outdoors: yes
Pulled an all-nighter: a few in high school, many in college, plus sometimes I just can't sleep
Talked on the phone all night: many times, and sometimes I even get paid ;-)
Slept all day: try all week. fucking migraines, plus I can be a very good sleeper even without the migraines
Killed someone: not directly, but I'm sure you could argue something involving butterflies flapping their wings or fueling my car with the blood of soldiers or being a dirty Jew and eating Christian babies
Made out with a stranger: I was 16 and at camp and a mutual friend introduced us before telling him to kiss me. And he lead with his tongue. It was all very strange.
Had sex with a stranger: No
Kissed the same sex: I've kissed female friends and relatives on the cheek, but I'm afraid that's as close as I've gotten to HOT LESBIAN ACTION.
Broken somone's heart: Tony Williams was apparently crushed when he found out I was having an all-girls 6th birthday party. Since then, I doubt it
Been betrayed: more than once
Broken the law: Hasn't everyone? Driving over the speed limit, getting back to the parking meter after it's expired, swallowing condoms full of cocaine to smuggle them into the country...it's all pretty standard
Been on radio/tv: been in a few concerts that were broadcast, called into radio shows, a few random silly things on the news
Been in a mosh-pit: yes
Had a nervous breakdown: a few, plus the panic attacks
Been criticized about your sexual performance: not that I know of
Had a dream that kept coming back: didn't I just post an entire thing about this?

Cheated on a b/f or g/f? No

Judged other people by their clothing: can't help it

DO YOU BELIEVE IN...
Life on other planets: could be. probably depends a lot on your definition of "life"
Miracles: maybe, I wouldn't use that word, but sort of
Astrology: only in the silly supersticious sort of way. Like wearing lucky underpants.
Magic: only in an abstract energy effecting change sort of way...think The Force but without so much telekenesis
God: Yes, but not the old white dude in a cloud
Santa: no
Ghosts: maybe, but not in a Sixth Sense or Casper or Ghostbusters way
Birth: As opposed to what? The stork? This is a dumb question.
Love at first sight?: Yes. Blame my parents and their damn NY bus
Ying and Yang: to some degree, I think so
Witches: not really
Easter bunny: the ones made of marshmallow

MISCELLANEOUS

Shoe brand: yes please.

Favorite music: According to Pandora, "folk roots, acoustic sonority, extensive vamping, major key tonality, and a good dose of acoustic guitar pickin'."

Wear hats: in winter I wear the knit kind, preferably with ear flaps
Favorite place to shop: DSW, Loehmanns, the big Jewel-Osco near my apartment, Paper Boy, any craft store

Favorite article of clothing: my new black boots, my BCBG black stilletos, my orange hoodie, the jeans I stole from Jeni, red cape (not that I wear it around...regularly...), my red princess dress

Do you remember your first love: Yes
Still love him/her?: differently
Do you consider love a mistake: no. a nasty little bitch, perhaps, but not a mistake.
What do you find romantic?: Balmy nights, big band jazz ballads, verandas, empty theaters (the kind with stages, not movies), the area at the end of Navy Pier just outside the ballroom at night, secret passages, quiet secret places in general, a whole list of music
Turn-on: intelligence, self-effacement, right-brained talents, neck kisses, penises (sorry, I think I'm funny)
Turn-off: stupidity, excessive hairyness, bad breath, bad teeth, boobs that aren't my own (they make me think of cows. don't ask.)
Do you base your judgment on looks alone? not even close. I'm not very visual.
Whats the last present someone got YOU? potted tulips that I already managed to kill
Do you like someone?: like them like them? no, oddly enough.

LAST PERSON...
That you laughed at: Myself (just a minute ago with that penis comment)
That laughed at you: Myself. See above.
That turned you on: Alan Shore and your mom
You went shopping with: probably my mom
To disappoint you: again, probably my mom
To make you cry: and it's a hat trick for my mom
To brighten up your day: a whole bunch of the kids at work
You saw a movie with: My cousin and cousin-in-law, I think
You talked to on the phone: back to Mom
You talked to through IM: Brian

these are the places in your neighborhood

AQUARIUM STUFF:
The aquarium was awesome as per usual, with the added bonus of the whole big lizard exhibit. I really like lizards. A lot. And they had tons of them. There was a pair my father insisted was "cuddling," but they were totally doing the lizard nasty. Kind of funny. There were big colorful lizards that swam around and funny blobby lizards that sat around and lots of little lizards who liked to climb on the glass of their habitats so you could see their little lizard bellies. And there was the dragon. The insanely huge komodo dragon. And it was insanely huge. My mom asked, "like, bigger than Freud?" "Are you kidding?" said I. That motherfucker was bigger than the human Freud was. Like crocodile sized. His habitat was the size of my apartment (maybe bigger) and there was a guy telling stories and answering questions who said the dragon ate pounds and pounds of rats every wednesday like they were popcorn. The dragon also apparently is very used to people, having grown up in captivity, and will even come over and put his head on the laps of the staff for pets and cuddles. The guy telling us all this was actually pretty cute, though I'm not sure if he was cute because he was cute or if he was cute because he liked and knew a lot about lizards without being a completely socially awkward weirdo. Not that there's anything with socially awkward weirdos. Maybe this summer I should take the work option that gets me out by 2 and get some job at the aquarium working the gift shop or something. Because I like the aquarium, not because I like the boys.

ATTACK OF THE CLONES:
After discovering that there were six Dunkin Donuts within two miles of my apartment, I began wondering about the other businesses that have so many locations in my area. Walgreens was the first to come to mind. There are just so many Walgreenses around here, its insane. But it seems like there's a Dunkin Donuts across from every Walgreens, so which chain has more? And what about Starbucks? I can think of three I pass regularly near my apartment.
So, in the name of curiosity, I checked the websites. The only radius all three chains offered was 5 miles, so I started with that.

Dunkin Donuts: 27
Walgreens: 59
Starbucks: 106

But a 5 mile radius is most of the city. What about closer? You don't need the details of how, but I checked a 1 mile radius (easy walking distance, I figure) and found:

Dunkin Donuts: 2 (though 3 if you go 1.02 miles away)
Walgreens: 8
Starbucks: 16 (17 if you count the one inside a bank)

That's insane. There are even 4 Starbuckses within a friggin' half-mile of me. That's like dog walking distance. I know the "so many Starbucks!" thing has been mused upon many a time before, but it still gets my official "holy shit."

Hmm. I have to go to work now. I didn't realize it was this late and didn't shower. Oh, well. Kids smell, too.

lizardonutime

I want a doughnut very much right now but it's 3:40 AM and even though there are 6 Dunkin Donuts locations within two miles of my apartment I'm going to be good and stay here and maybe stuff my face with Corn Pops instead.

I used coffee to kill the migraine today. It may be back tomorrow, but I couldn't stand another day stuck in bed. If it behaves itself tomorrow, I am going to the Shedd Aquarium with my dad to see the komodo dragon (and other lizards and sharks and fish and whatnot). I am so cool.

How many hours on MySpace does it take to make up for 10 minutes of quality human interaction? Toph? Oder? Somebody should come up with a formula. Like on NUMB3RS (which I pronounce in my head numb-three-ers).

Amy's Wedding Pictures

Not great pixel quality and almost a year after the fact, but here are pictures of Amy's wedding. (click the one to get to the yahoo slideshow thing.) She looked awful purdy.

This is why I'm lonely

Thank you, guestbook signers! You have made me happy. See how little it takes?

I feel I should write more about pickles to get the AdSense pickle ads back up. Not that they were particularly lucrative, but they had me entertained.

Still have the migraine, though I've been getting a few hours relief right after I take my meds, but I need more before I'm allowed more.

Being stuck inside all day, I spent a long time staring at MySpace, particularly people who graduated high school with me. It's amazing how many of them I don't remember and how many I'd forgotten about completely. I even came across the profile of one of my former best friends with whom I purposefully lost touch after he abandoned me in Rome. I figure most people mature some in six years, so it's worth recontacting him.
Another profile that caught my attention was a kid I didn't really know "back in the day." I only even started reading his profile because I was trying to place him. I knew who he was, but he hung out with the Future Sorority Sister-Types I always hated so I never gave him much thought. His profile is pure writerly-intellectual mentally-masturbatory BS. It's the kind of thing I might have written when I was in high school and first started screaming "I'M A WRITER" from whatever treetop I could find. Like a writer's version of the people who first came out of the closet at Oberlin in an explosion of promiscuity and phony affectation. It usually settles down after a year or so, becoming a more natural part of the personality, but it's a common phase nonetheless.
But my reaction to this profile thing is pretty frightening. I have to be above an intellectualist? I have to look at this person (who is clearly very smart and a writer and enjoys thinking for thought's sake) as immature? "Like, he's soooo me five minutes ago, or eight years ago, or whatever." Isn't that a shitload better than all the truly stupid people I spend most of my time snubbing? So maybe I should swallow my own BS and drop him a note. It's way less creepy than the MySpace total stranger and he's apparently living in River Forest again and maybe some mental masturbation would do me good. Still, I need to get over myself enough to write a note without it sounding like, "Awww, isn't that cute, you think now."

hate my head

I'm quickly losing my spring break (and to-do list) to a stubborn migraine. I'm pretty sure it's weather-related, but it's also ignoring all my medications. I went out in search of food this afternoon (somehow driving seemed easier than doing dishes and cooking) and was completely cracked-out and had a very hard time making sense of the world and my thoughts and probably shouldn't have been allowed to opperate a motor vehicle, but I made it back to my apartment with a chicken cesar salad from Boston Market that was totally worth it. Stupid sun (and even the computer screen) cuts through my skull like a nasty stinging bitch.

Things that shouldn't be complicated

Guestbook thing again. This is mostly in response to Amy and a little bit to Brian and probably somewhat to everybody else:
It's not about pressure. You only have to sign it once. The only thing I really care about is your name and maybe how you know me. Location is nice, too, but I really don't give a crap if you write a message. I just want to know who's reading my blog. Old friends from elementary school? Random strangers? Your mom? I know a large part of blog writing is not knowing the reader, but I thought that this would be easier than the readership survey thing I put out awhile ago and would get more responses. I know people read this thing, since my counter goes up. It's like the friendster/myspace testimonials. I know there are people out there who like me, but sometimes it'd be nice to hear it publicly. I guess that's too much to ask. Tears.

experiment on behalf of my uncle

Brian- I hope you don't mind me using this, but it's the only mp3 file I have on my computer that doesn't have any funky rights attachments or anything.

Everybody- How does this thing show up on your computer? Do you have to open a file or does it just start playing or does it do nothing at all? I don't know if it only works on my computer because I also have it saved on my harddrive or not.

lucid decisions

Thank you, AdSense "Lucid Dreaming" ads that showed up on my page, check this shit out:



Also, how cool am I for figuring out how to embed a movie on here?

I have to figure out what I'm doing this summer. I was just given an offer to be a post-camp babysitter for a couple of second grade girls that I already know and like from 4-6 every day. If I did that and was the art person, I would be making a good amount of money doing things I don't hate. But on the other hand, I was starting to really like the idea of being a counselor for the little guys and getting off work every day by 2 so I could write and do other projects and play. I will create a pros and cons-type list:

Option A (Art person/babysitting):

1. More money
2. Still able to play on the weekends
3. No chance of being bored
4. All the age groups and camp divisions have some art time, so I'd meet more kids and more other counselor-people my age
5. I love art projects
6. Older kids
7. Less stressful work
8. Less likely to have to swim
9. Less chance I'll have to clean up children after they have "accidents"

Option B (camp counselor for junior division):

1. Done by 2 every day
2. 4-year-olds are cute
3. Could actually have time to write my article if I can successfully sell it by then
4. Lots of time to work on my alcoholism
5. Lynn will be around and I can play with her
6. Wouldn't have to work out a way of taking Freud out so he's not stuck alone for so long
7. Could even take a second job doing something completely different (preferably writing-related)
8. Or maybe I could volunteer somewhere
9. Or just go to the zoo and the aquarium all the time
10. Or start afternoon violin groups
11. So much time for other projects! The world would be my oyster (the pearl kind, since I don't really like the food kind).
12. I may need to be around and available to help out with my grandfather and stuff.

Ugh. I hate making decisions.

Why has no one signed my guestbook? Please explain to me this aversion to guestbook signing. Particularly people who are more than happy to comment on here. Amy, Toph, I'm surprised at you.

Who are you and what did you do with my pickles?

It would seem no one signed my guestbook because it didn't actually work to let you sign it. So I'm trying a different host. PLEASE sign it. I want to know who's reading this. Is that really so much to ask?

In teacher/counselor world, I have a very hard time sharing the leadership role. It's not (surprisingly enough) that I can't step down and let one of the other teacher/counselor people take charge--I'm actually very good at that--but rather I'm in charge or somebody else is. I don't know what to do when I am one of the people leading. The world suddenly contains shades of grey and my little head explodes.

I also think I come off as very narcissistic when I'm meeting people. The way I like to get to know new people is by sharing stories, so instead of asking questions of the other person, I'll tell some story about myself, hoping that they will then share a story about themself*, which I will relate to something else, which they will relate to something else, and so on. But when the new person I'm meeting is more of a question asker, it ends up being all about me. I tell my story, they ask questions, and I answer them, and without a story to go on, I have a hard time asking questions of them that don't seem completely related to me.
Example of the question-asker and my meeting:
Shmoe: That's a lot of pickles.
Me: Yes it is. You know I once knew a guy who actually turned into a pickle.
Shmoe: Really? What happened?
Me: Well, he ate so many pickles all the time that he started to sweat pickle juice.
Shmoe: [silent, stares at me expecting more]
Me: So it was the middle of the summer and he went for a jog in the humidity, and he sweat so much that he basically brined himself. They found him three days later on the counter of a kosher deli.
Shmoe: Wow.
Me: Yeah... [pause] ...so do you ever go jogging?
Shmoe: No, not really. You?
Me: No... [pause] ...I don't actually keep kosher, but I like the pickles a whole lot. Not enough to turn into one, though.
Shmoe: So what's your favorite kind of pickle?
Me: The really crispy kosher dill kind. You?
Shmoe: Bread and butter. Do you like them on sandwiches?
Me: Not really. Do you?
Shmoe: Yes...

Anyway, you get the idea. It always turns into them asking questions about my story and me not knowing what to say or ask beyond the same thing right back at them. But with another story teller, I'm much happier (and less narcissistic).

Example:
Melvin: That's a lot of pickles.
Me: Yes it is. You know I once knew a guy who actually turned into a pickle.
Melvin: Really? I thought about turning my bathtub into a vat for brining, but I couldn't get the lime stains off and was afraid they'd make everything taste funny.
Me: It's probably best not to pickle yourself anyway.
Melvin: That's true, though I still should get the lime stains out of my tub.
Me: Yeah, have you tried a lot of products?
Melvin: Not really, just the regular bathroom cleaners. Do you know of any good ones?
Me: Not that I can think of, though it'd be fascinating to try cleaning a bathtub with pickle brine.
Melvin: Except then your bathroom would smell like pickles.
Me: Better than if it smelled like shit.
Melvin: That's true, but I'd worry the pickle smell would linger longer.

And so forth. I think I just feel like I know people better if I know their stories than if I know the basic sorts of facts about them. Like I know the standard questions to ask a new person, all the where are you from and what do you do crap, but I'm much happier if I walk away with none of their most basic life facts but know about the time their grandmother won a hotdog eating contest. I'll take a Melvin over a Shmoe any day.

Two weird-ass blog entries in a row. Sorry, people. I hope you're at least vaguely entertained or good at skimming for the interesting shit.

*Themself. So not a word, but "his or herself" is cumbersome and "themselves" implies multiple people. Damn you, English language!

dreamlife

Can't sleep. How many of these entries start that way? I'm not counting it now, but I think a lot. I have to be out the door in three hours and alert enough to care for other people's children. Hmmm. I think I'm so awake because I spent the last four days in a trance. I'm still not sure if it was weather-migraine shit (its possible to go through a full migraine without ever having the headache part) or if I was a bit annemic (I usually eat more meat this time of the month but this week I didn't) or what, but I was sleeping a lot and dreaming heavily and I feel like I just woke up for the first time after dinner tonight at my parents' house.

My dreams, as you probably know, tend to be vivid, memorable, and lucid. They also have a fairly consistant narrative and set of rules within their reality. Like I can fly, but it takes a lot of effort and both physical and mental capacity and I don't do it that often. It's also not very common or normal, though people know that it's possible and I'm not the only one who can. I usually only bother if I'm trying to get somewhere quickly or if it's a much shorter distance up and over than it is around. If I don't like the outcome of something, I can usually declare a rewind and do it again. It's not that time zips backwards, but more like a game of pretend where everybody accepts that I'm doing it over. If I already have something in my hand or am at a particular place, I have to physically put it down or return to the point I want to restart, and everybody has the memory of the failed attempt, but its just accepted that I am, say, starting over at the begining of the raft trip (we had to haul the raft and ourselves back, of course) but this time I'm stopping to make sure I have everything I need packed in a waterproof bag and I know in advance where we have to avoid the destroyer ships. The rules of little kid pretend also apply to most death and fighting things. There are no real guns or swords, but if it would have been a good shot, you have to accept that you've been hit and act accordingly. The flying comes in handy a lot in the fighting dreams, as I can escape and "run" and hide in three dimentions. Sure, they always find me, but then it just turns into a chasing dream.
Time is another thing that's kind of screwy. Within each dream it's very linear and much like awake time, but I can go to sleep any night and show up at any point in my life. I have all the memories and knowledge of now (past dreams, too), but it's not strange for me to be back in Cleveland and working at American Greetings or at Oberlin with my friends in school and me in limbo or even in fifth grade again, but trying to opperate within the world of dream fifth grade with all my adult thoughts and memories.
Those are pretty much the rules.
Settings are consistent from dream to dream, though they don't look like their real counterparts or anywhere I've been. Interlochen has a completely different layout in dream-world and they've even been building a shopping center and a big student center and stuff that will totally change the feel of things. Were I a better artist I could probably draw the dream versions of my current and past apartments. The Cleveland ones (I moved once in Cleveland dreamworld since the first place turned out to be not what I'd expected) were pretty awesome. Oberlin's landscape and town were completely riddiculous.

Then there's the narrative. The same way when you're awake you may remember your dreams but you're aware of what has happened in your awake life, I tend to be aware of everything that's happened in my dream life from dream to dream. They build on eachother. And even when I'm very aware that what's happening is something that often happens in my reoccuring dreams, but I'm pleasantly surprised that it's happening "for real" this time. Or I'll be aware that I'm asleep and dreaming and just know that I have to stick to what's happened within that reality in my dealings with people. [In the dreams] I've been running into a lot of really random people from elementary school lately, including a few I hadn't thought about in at least ten years. Stephanie is now all about being my friend, though these days I'm finding her pretty annoying. Jenn and Leah and I have been friendly again, but it's kind of weird with all the time that passed when we just didn't talk to eachother. Just the other night I saw Michael Depalma, which was particularly odd because in my awakedom I'd pretty much forgotten about his existence. In dream narrative I never actually graduated from high school because I got into college early and it wasn't going to matter once I had my bachelors degree, but since I dropped out of college I have to go back and try to finish up gym and another class or two to get my diploma. I'm not really in a hurry, but it's weird and embarassing to be 23 and back in high school, even though very few people are aware I'm 23. Other recent events within the narrative: my parents informed us while we were completely jet-lagged and trying to adjust to the time change of our trip to Paris that they were having a trial separation. I was very pissed off at the way they told us and freaked out because I've always based my belief in True Love on how much they adore eachother. They insisted that it wasn't for lack of love but because they were just too completely annoyed with eachother, but really they were just being assholes about it. On the brighter side of dream-world, I met this guy at a retreat and we're like a couple of puppies together and things are going really well so far. In my dreams I've been a counselor at Interlochen for a few summers and there's been an ongoing problem finding me a position that will accomodate me having the dog. We tried a few cabins with outside areas and tried letting Freud run around but it looks like I'm going to be in one of the art huts or by the lake and Ian (another person I hadn't thought of in ages...in reality he was the Great Love of my Five Minutes at Interlochen 1997) is back to be a counselor.

I'm tempted to delete all this because I'm a bit afraid it's too big a window into my crazies, but maybe it's verbose and strange enough that no one will read it and I can feel proud of myself for putting it all out there.

in this week's New Yorker

The Reason for the Season

On the first day of the week, very early in the morning, the women took the
baskets they had prepared and went to the tomb. They found the stone rolled away
from the tomb, but when they entered, they did not find the body of the Lord
Jesus. While they were wondering about this, suddenly a white hare that gleamed
like lightning stood beside them. "Why do you not look instead for brightly
colored eggs and chocolates wrapped in foil? Do you not remember how delicious
are these things that we call 'Peeps?'" Then they remembered.

Tomorrow will be my first Easter in six years not spent at Macaroni Grill. Our little tradition made Easter a special holiday, even for my little Jew-girl self, and I will miss it very much. I guess I'll just have to keep munching on matzah (made from the blood of christian babies, of course).

sit, Ubu, sit

Everybody should move to Chicago. It's a great city and then I wouldn't feel obligated to make new friends. Besides, I miss you fuckers, all being far away and shit.

Today's goal was to get all the car-related things done off my list, and I did! Really early in the day, too. I brought Freud, who was very popular and well-behaved at the Jiffy Lube. He didn't snip at anyone, mostly hung out on my lap, and even eventually went around sniffing people's feet. They had dog biscuits and found him completely entertaining. Good dog. I wish I could always trust him to be like that. I'd take him a lot more places, like the bar I like (Vaughan's) that allows dogs on weeknights or the outside tables at the other local dog-friendly establishments. I know he'll never be one of those dogs that just wanders up to strangers and wants to be pet, but maybe if I keep taking him on these sorts of little errands where I can really pay attention to him but he's around other people, he'll get to a point where we can at least hang out outside Starbucks or something. I've done a lousy job thus far making friends, and since beer tends to fail me as a social lubricant, perhaps the dog can help. You know, so long as he doesn't spend the whole time growling, murf-ing, and trying to bite people. But seriously, today, no growling or anything, so I feel there is hope. Sweet, sweet hope.

No one signed my guestbook yet. I am crying. If you tried but couldn't figure it out, you have to click "post."

I can't tell if I'm woozy because of the weather (migraine-related pressure weirdness) or because I need more iron and am being anemic (nasty bout of being female the last few days, TMI I know) or if I've just slept too much and that's doing it. Currious.

guestbook

The whole comments thing got me wondering--who else is reading my blogginess? So please notice the little animated button to your right that says "Sign my Guestbook." Please please please. You don't have to comment, just tell me who you are. If you don't, I'll take away your birthday.

Seder was fine. Traffic was horrible so we started late and zipped through the whole thing because most people had things to do in the morning and my grandfather was quite tired. He looked pretty good, though, so either he was having a good day or my aunt and mother have been making him out to be much worse than he is. We (my grandpa and I) have open-ended plans to go to the aquarium. He likes fish. I like the aquarium. It'll be fun. I was very glad to have Elizabeth there, too. She's good people. Her boyfriend was quite quiet but seemed perfectly pleasant. I'm being all alliterative. As we drove away (Elizabeth, Steve and me in my car and my brother and my mom in my mom's car) we were stopped at a stoplight where my mom was turning right to get on the highway and she was motioning to me to question why I wasn't turning so I rolled down the window to tell her I was going a different way and next thing I know I'm getting squirt-gunned in the face through the window by my brother as they cracked up and drove away! I couldn't believe it! Drive-by squirt-gunned down by my own family! It was pretty funny and very impressive he managed to get me so squarely in the face from the passenger seat of a car all on the right to the driver seat of my car on the left. I was pretty loopy by the time I found a parking spot, walked Freud, and fell into bed.

I spent most of today asleep. It was delicious. Tomorrow, I start in on my Spring Break Project List. Any bets on how many items on it I actually complete? Fewer, I'm sure, now that I've agreed to do Monday and Tuesday's JCC vacation days at Enchanted Castle (which should be easy but means I'm gone until 3:30) and Pump It Up (which I've never been to but sounds fun, and again, I'll be gone until 3:30ish).

That is all. Sign the guestbook.

down(pillow)ers

I have slept 3 hours of the last 38.

uppers

Can't sleep. Too many amphetamines and boogers in my system. The reason for the amphetamines was to get rid of the boogers, but here I am very awake with both and coming up on 4 AM and I've got to be at the JCC by 8:46 AM and then pay attention to children until 3.

I was compiling a list of what Hannah calls "wiggle" songs--the songs that you have to listen to over and over again and they hit you in just that very particular compelling way and they're just perfect--and my CD drive is being cranky and some of my songs I don't even own on CD so I wanted to find a way to download just a handful of shit for free without putting Limewire back on my computer because it fucked it up last time I tried. I thought perhaps I'd just do Napster for a month if it wasn't too expensive and download everything I could think of in that month. But what is this? Napster has a 7 day free trial? So I can spend the next 7 days (which I'm on spring break so I can devote countless hours to this shit) downloading as much as possible and then cancel the service and never pay a dime? Eeeeeexcellent.

My boss confirmed today that they will be hiring me full-time next year doing something I'm happy to do. Health insurance, etc. will be hammered out right after break, though nothing is officially "finalized" (class asignments and whatnot) until August.

Thing that existed in Cleveland that I liked very much but doesn't seem to exist here: place I can drop Freud off and an hour and $20 later he's all clean and trimmed and nice-smelling and handsome and terrified with a bow around his neck. Here, even petco costs at least $35 for a basic bath and nail clipping is extra and sensitive skin shampoos are extra and they seriously need to suck it. Wet dog running around the apartment and biting his own nails it is.

Why am I still fucking awake? I've been up since 9:30 AM with no nap and I actually did things today. Maybe I'll go drink warm milk and fart a lot.

no comment

I got a raise tonight for the JCC part of my job because my boss likes me and wanted me to work a few days over the vacation. Yay raise.

Anybody know a lot about abnormal child development stuff? I have questions...

Stolen from Amy's thing:

Go to your page and list the last ten people who have commented you. If someone has commented twice, skip to the next new commenter. Then answer the questions below!!
01. Amy
02. Toph
03. Anne
04. Joel
05. Hannah
06. Anonymous
07. Jeni
08. Brian
09. Emancipated
10. Orsino
Have you ever kissed 4??
no
Why are you friends with 9?
I'm not. In fact, I have no idea who this person is or why they posted their weird ad-thing on my blog
When's the next time you're gonna see 6?
Don't know because I don't know who it is
What do you like about 8?
His mustache
Is number 2 attractive?
Smokin'
What was your first impression of 5?
"ooh! A person who lives in my dorm! Yay person!"
How did you meet 3?
Through Toph
Do you think 6 could kill someone?
Yes.
Have you seen 1 naked?
no
Has number 1 seen you naked?
no
Who do you spend the most time with?
They're all far, far away
What is the last thing you did with 2?
Drove him to the airport at the butt-crack of dawn
Have you ever been to 9's house?
would I know if I had?
Would you ever kiss 10?
I don't even know that person
Have you ever slept with 7?
Yes, in the actual sleeping sort of way, many times
Have you ever liked 9?
Again, 9 is a stranger.
Where is the last place you went with 4?
My apartment in Cleveland, I think
Have you ever been to the movies with 2?
Many, many times. Probably more than anyone else on the list, in fact.
Have you ever gotten in trouble with 5?
No. we should have.
Would you ever make a move on 3?
Hey, Anne, is that a mirror in your pants?
What do you and 4 talk the most about?
People and thinking

Interesting to note:
-In the last month, the only people to comment on my blog have been Toph (twice), Anne (twice), Amy (twice cubed plus twice), and Joel (once).
-Jeni hasn't commented since late January
-Brian last commented January 1
-Amy has posted 72 comments on my blog since it moved to blogger
-Toph posted 10
-Jeni and Brian each posted 7
-I've received comments from 5 strangeranonymousnonymous people
-Only 7 people I know from reality ever comment
-Until I filled out this survey thing, I never actually based the worth of my friendships on blog comments, but now I can quantify your love for me, and I'm sending Hannah's birthday presanonymousnonymous next year.


Six hours of Kids Klub tomorrow with an odd mix of children who will be exhausted from the morning'sSederol seder activities. This stupid cold better be clearer by then or they're going to eat me alive. Treif.

pseudophederal offense

All I wanted was some pseudophedrine for tomorrow to decongest my nasal without knocking me out. I like pseudophedrine. It's worked for me in the past. I know it's now all behind the pharmacy counter thanks to people making meth out of it, but I am perfectly capable of walking up to the pharmacy. So up to the pharmacy I went with my little ticket from the cold pill aisle. First, the pharmacist needed my ID. I thought this was a bit excessive, but then again it makes sure the same person doesn't come every day of the week and buy their pseudophedrine limit and stock it up and then make meth and kill babies. Then he needed my date of birth. Ok. Then he needed me to put my name, address, and date of birth in this big log book. Then he needed me to sign in two places. Holy shit. It's just a package of cold medicine. I have a cold. This is way too much effort. Wouldn't this process mainly just deter the people with colds who are too tired to deal with all that and might as well just get one of the substitute drugs? The only people (besides me this one fucking time because I'd already started the process and like hell I'm just going to give up and take something else at this point) who'd be willing to go through all this are probably the meth dealers. They might as well just outlaw it entirely or make it by perscription only or something. Motherfuckers.

kismet unmet and things I found funny

Lots to say so I'll try to be concise.

I ended up going to the concert last night by myself. I called to cancel the second ticket before getting on the el. Then, while staring out the window of the train, I saw Jenna (Anne's brother's friend I met on St. Patrick's Day) preparing to board my train car. She was on her way home from work with no plans for the evening, so I asked if she wanted to go to the symphony right then and she was all for it! I called them back to say to un-cancel the ticket, but the box office said she'd have to purchase the ticket since it had already been released. Is there a word for something that is almost perfectly kismet and then fails? There should be. And the real kicker? When I got to orchestra hall, they handed me two tickets. I guess they never actually canceled the second ticket and Jenna could have come. Go figure.
The concert was very good. Rameau (some other baroque guy) suite, a Bach Cantata that featured a very good but very affected countertenor (he looked like he was performing his own personal opera with crazy gesticulations and every phrase that ended with the letter "t" was punctuated to the point of showering the first three rows of the audience), and a Bach suite that was quite wonderful and made the whole outing worthwhile.
I had to sneeze during both Bachs and thought I was allergic to someone's perfume or hairspray. Hold that thought.
There was a cute Boy on the el on the way home and while we shared laughs across the way and I thought of my parents and how they met I never said anything and just got off at my stop like the shy little dork I am.
I was absolutely freezing on my way back home and then still freezing in my apartment and then my nose started tickling more and clogging up until I was sure I was getting a cold by the time I went to sleep. Sure enough, I woke up this morning with a cold. Fuck you, cold.

Now, I must respond to many things from and about other people:
If you haven't already read the comments from my Lucid Lucid Lucid post, Amy is the funniest person ever. And I quote:

i'll go... last night... in my time machine.though i'm not sure i could travel back that far. it's not a very good time machine.

I heart Amy.

Toph- I remember when you sent the link to the Mario boxes site, making the whole scandal/story that much more fucking hilarious. Thank you for the cheer-up. And yes, I meant that Anne.
Anne- Yes, the text was from me. Three cheers for Boston! Did you get one of the jobs? Are you out of your suitcase yet? In theory I could send you an email, but that would require oh so much effort.

Also, Toph's blog had an ad for checks with a message and I found many of them highly entertaining. I already mentioned these in Toph's blog, but I'm just too amused to leave it at that.

(do they accept these at Walmart? How about as a donation to the Christian Coalition, which is another funny/terrifying site in itself...)





Other thing I found funny and forgot to share yesterday:The death of the first born one is my favorite, though the lice have googly eyes.

For now, I'll leave things at that, but mostly because I can't breathe and it's finally late enough to justify taking more Nyquil.

La la la...emotionally...

La la la people in my family are falling apart la la la I'm emotionally exhausted and I haven't even been in the middle of it la la la I want to go to the symphony tonight but I may be going alone and I'm not sure that's the best thing for me right now la la la call me if you feel like being emotionally supportive because I need a good cry but right now I'm too emotionally clogged from emotionally holding it together emotionally.

Lucid lucid lucid

I've been feeling a touch under the weather (stupid manic-depressive barometric pressure making by brain swell up) so I went to bed on the early side tonight. Not so early that I'd wake up a few hours later and not be able to go back to sleep, but around 9. Then my mom called a little before 10. How dare she assume I would be awake at a reasonable hour! I answered the phone just to say "I'm asleep," but she told my half-awake self that she and my father are not going to the symphony tomorrow night and I can have their tickets and bring a friend. "But I don't have any friends," I said. I don't remember the rest of the conversation as I was pretty out of it (some of you may recall the time I leant out my car in my sleep and was completely confused when I woke up as my keys were being returned) but trying to make sense of how I would find a symphony-going friend by tomorrow night was enough to get my brain moving again and wake me up. That was three hours ago. I can't fall back asleep. My apartment is fucking hot again and I'm very thirsty and Sudoku is a much better game on the computer because life is better on the computer. Ok, life is not better on the computer, but many games are. I actually had to move my computer off my bed because I realized the other day my back was starting to bother me from playing Word Racer all hunched over.

Blah blah blah I may be awake but I'm still out of it and not sure I'm making much sense. I feel drunk without the alcohol part. Probably migraine-related shit. Maybe I should pop more pills before I attempt sleep again.

Shut up, Jill. The reason I even started writing this post was to say if you are my friend and you want to go to the symphony Friday, April 7, 2006, they are playing Bach and I have an extra ticket. Being in the greater Chicagoland area would help, but if you are, say, Anne, and can get to the greater Chicagoland area by tomorrow evening, that'd be cool, too. Otherwise, I can call Elizabeth (we just spend a lot of time together already and she may be my "date" to see the Komodo Dragon at the Shedd if my brother lames out on me) or invite someone else from work or make my cousin and cousin-in-law fight over the ticket, but like I said to my mom, I don't have any friends. You are not my friend. I hate you*. Too bad I can't bring the dog. Ok, no, scratch that, it is very good I can't bring the dog.

I think I need to go back to bed. I'm sleep-blogging or something.

*Only a little

unrelated thought

If a person smells a smell that no one else in the room can smell, does he/she have:   the best sense of smell in the room   a good imagination   the crazies or View results Created with Vanguard Vista™

some things old, some things new

On Friday, my one violin student's mom told me they were going to "put lessons on hold for awhile" because the kid was only interested in playing when I was around. Had I been given a chance, I might have been able to inspire more regular practicing, but they'd firmly made their decision before saying anything to me. The mom emphasized it had nothing to do with my teaching and they were actually quite happy with that end of things, but touching the violin once every week or two wasn't worth continuing until Rebecca was ready to make more of a commitment.
Tonight, another prospective student's mom emailed me to say they don't want to wait until summer after all and could we start lessons over Passover break? Things have a funny way of working out sometimes.

I didn't end up getting to do my laundry because I was at my grandpa's apartment all day. Hooking up his TV (two plugs) and computer (more than two plugs, but very standard and even color-coded) made me a technical goddess in my aunt's eyes. His senior living community thing is very nice. It's a lot like a posh college dorm for old people with a very nice dining area (white linens and full service) on the first floor. It doesn't even smell like old people. He went out to brunch with a group of ladies and has already met a handful of people he likes. It's remarkably like college with flyers for scheduled activities in the elevators and a pair of ladies from floor five gossiping as they headed down to see their friend on floor three after dinner. The apartment itself is very nice with great lighting, tons of closet space, and separate kitchen, living room, and bedroom. My grandpa is thinking about joining the poetry club and book club and turned down the invitation to the Yiddish club, though will probably attend their "mock Seder" mid-Passover. It's just a shame the place is overrun by old people.
My aunt has done a whole lot getting my grandfather moved in and comfortable and she's extremely well-intended, but she's very intense and really needs another hobby. She kept answering for my grandpa and making decisions about where his things should go and what he should do and many many times I found myself saying, "well, why don't we ask him." She also always has to be the martyr, which gets old and frustrating when you actually want her opinion on, say, if she wants her hamburger bun toasted or not. "Whatever's easiest for you" is probably the most difficult answer, particularly when there are buns already going into the toaster so throwing one more in versus putting it directly on her plate makes very little difference in the easiness factor. It's like she's slow to say what she wants but quick to say what everyone else wants, even if she doesn't know. It's annoying. And it's very hard to complain about it (to her or otherwise) because she is so well-intended and she's done so much lately with and for my grandpa that none of the rest of us could have come even close. Still, you put together both of my parents and Topher's and Amy's moms and Jeni that week she lived in the silkscreening studio and that's about the level of my aunt's intensity. You can actually hear the pops where pieces of the universe implode when she starts making "suggestions." It's exhausting.

I just got some attractive offers for potential summer jobs, but I have to decide if I want a shorter day with younger kids or to be the "associate art specialist" for a little more money but all pre-fabbed projects. I should have at least a few weeks to decide, but it's something for my brain to chew on.
Tomorrow I'm half second-grade sub, half office wench. I found out they didn't hire a temp because I exist, so I can expect to keep up this pace of tons of hours for at least a little while longer. Yay money, and if I have to be doing temp work, at least I can take breaks and poke the children.

God Bless America

Stupid fucking xenophobic motherfuckers. It's a very scary day when Bush is the lesser evil. Sign of the apocalypse, perhaps? And I just love the comments about people "refusing to learn English." It's not like our ancestors bothered to learn the Native American languages. We should just be grateful current immigrants don't give us malaria blankets and force us to sign away "our" land.

migraine is whole grain

Didn't they do something like this with Springfield in the Simpsons? The one where Homer becomes the garbage commissioner...

I spent today asleep with a well-earned migraine. Lots of drugs and rest and it's mostly gone. Splendid.

I filed my taxes last night. Good for me. Tax software makes it extremely easy, and is free if you're under 50 and make under $50,000 a year, which I certainly am and do. I recommend it highly to any and all. I used the free version of TurboTax, but considering so much of tax filing involves entering the same fucking number in 47 places and standard functions, I imagine any tax software is very useful. Here's the IRS's free list.
Note to Amy- How weird was it to file as MARRIED? Weird grown-up shit.

Tomorrow my grandpa is due to be discharged from the hospital and then I am due to help him set up his computer at his apartment. Party party party. Can my life get any more exciting? Apparently the guy in the bed next to my grandfather at the hospital has spent most of his waking moments on the phone, loudly telling people about his "pernicious anemia" and that he just needs some B-12 and he'll be fine, but the doctors won't give it to him. I got to witness one such phone conversation Thursday night, and it was pretty funny. I love when real people are more caricature-like than anything fiction could believably invent.

What do people know about electric violins? I'm tempted to ask for one for my birthday and maybe actually start showing up to the Tuesday night open jam thing at Vaughan's. It would be good for me to be playing more regularly in public again. I need to contact my old violin teacher (old as in former, not old as in she's old, though her daughter is now in high school, which makes me feel old...).

I need to do laundry just. so. badly. I was going to do it Thursday but didn't have time. Then I was going to do it yesterday after work but was too tired. Then I was going to do it today but had a migraine. What are the odds I actually get up early enough tomorrow to start a load before a) I have to go to my grandfather's and b) the rest of the building decides to do its laundry as well?

One of these days I'll do all the things on my To Do list. Just not today...