Why I Could Never Live Alone

So the summer is drawing to a close. I can't say I'm too upset, really. I don't really consider the last three months summer at all. It wasn't warm up until this week, and I barely saw any of my friends. It was more like an extended weekend during the school year when I just happened to come home to visit my parents.

But I noticed a slightly disturbing trend this summer. And it all has to do with me. I spend so much time alone when I'm not working, that when an opportunity to actually leave my house and do something arises, my first inclination is to say no. And it makes no sense, none at all. Because I loathe sitting around my house doing nothing. I don't watch television anymore, I don't cook, I don't do much of anything. I work, I eat dinner, I read for a bit, then I sleep. But not even because I'm tired. I'm just so, so bored. And yet for some reason I turn down invitations to do things that I really want to do, telling myself I shouldn't go, I'll be too tired to be any fun, I'll be too tired tomorrow. And then I get angry at myself when I realize that I actually did want to go out and socialize and be fun. It's like there's a little part of me that's trying it's hardest to sabotage all my efforts to be happy.

But I think this is why I love living with people my own age. If I lived alone, I honestly don't know if I would ever leave. And I would be miserable. But when I live with people, they force me to get up and get out, and I (almost) always have a good time. And even if we don't go out, then I have people to be around. Human contact is what keeps me sane.

So moral of this story is, when I say no to an invitation, it has nothing to do with you. In fact, I'm always scared that I'll say no one too many times and then people will just stop inviting me places. I'd love it if people would start making it a habit to ask two or three times if I'm sure I don't want to come. Usually that makes me rethink things. And I hope that when I'm actually around other sentient beings (my computer does not count) that I'm fun, because I usually am enjoying myself.

Home, or Now the Shit Hits the Fan

I've always hated the phrase 'when the shit hits the fan.' It's so graphic. Have you ever actually thought about what would happen if shit actually did hit the fan? Really, really contemplated it? Gross, man.

Anyways, my week in the Minneapolis/St. Paul area was really fun. I got to see Minnesota family, who I very rarely get to see otherwise. We went to the Walker Museum, where I once again realized how few people like postmodern art as much as I do (Mom: "I don't get it," Me: "You're not supposed to!" Mom: "Then why see it?"). But I loved it, the crazy building, sculpture garden, and particularly the George Brecht Event Scores, which were little pieces of paper that "involve simple actions, ideas, and objects from everyday life recontexualized as performance" (some website). So fun.

We went to the Arboretum, something the adults enjoyed that I did too, because I am an old woman at heart. It was really quite interesting to learn how they've been working on genetically engineering plants that have evolved in warmer climates to survive the (very) harsh Minnesota winters.





We also saw a play about Ella Fitzgerald at the Guthrie Theater, which, despite having great music (Ella Fitzgerald, you know), had a pretty boring plotline, mostly because Ella had a fairly boring life.

On the way home, we got delayed in the Atlanta airport for about three hours, getting home much later than we thought we would. Lesson learned: never, ever fly Airtran. It's cheap for a reason.

But now I'm home, and I have to actually start Getting Shit Done. First order of business: Get a place to live. I have a date with the girl I know from Florence with whom I will be rooming with on Tuesday to go look at apartments, mostly in the Gramercy area. The whole apartment situation has been probably the hardest thing for me to deal with emotionally, I've felt so guilty and upset for the past three months. I think this is why I've been having stress dreams, all of which somehow involve Final Battles along the lines of Return of the King. I wander through these battle preparations not really knowing where I should be, or with which party I should be fighting. I wake up feeling ridiculously stressed, and frustrated too. Because I like Lord of the Rings, and I really, really want to know how the battle ends.

Long Time, No Blog?

So um, greetings.
Haven't written in a while.
Hasn't been a whole lot to say, actually.
In short, I work. I come home. I sleep. A lot. I've read quite a few books. Work doesn't suck quite as much this year as it usually does. Mostly because I don't really do anything except read and sit and read. I see a good amount of Jessica Smith.
Being at home is kind of like an extended waiting period for school to start up again. Except it alternates with serious anxiety about where I'm living next year (still not a clue, but at least I have a roommate lined up. Mini steps) and what I'm doing after college (NYU Wagner doesn't require the GREs! Now if only I could afford it...).
I'm in Minnesota this week. Mom and I came out to visit family. I like Minneapolis/St. Paul, and I'm pretty sure Mom is hoping I'll decide to move out here as soon as college is over or something. Unfortunately, I plan on staying in New York until I run out of money, get deathly ill, die, etc. Maybe that's slightly extreme, and I'm sure eventually I (might) be forced to eat my words. Well. We'll see.
But I really have been having a good time. My cousins are great, and they've been taking me around. Gina took me out last night, which might be contributing to my current down mood (the fact that I'm tired, that is. Not the fact that she took me out. That was a lot of fun).
I fit in my jeans (comfortably!) again! We'll see if I still do at the end of this week.
Question: How many days left in the summer?
Answer: Blessed few.

The Floods Cometh

I like rain. I always have. I like when it really RAINS, when it comes down steadily for a few hours. None of the off-and-on scattered showers shit, when you're never sure how to dress or whether you need an umbrella or if you should bother flat-ironing your hair in the morning or just hide it under a bandana. I want rain to be straightforward. I do not, however want said rain to last for longer than three hours. Just long enough for me to curl up with a hot cup of tea or coffee and a book or a movie, and emerge from the house to sun peaking through the clouds and the delicious smell of freshly-rained-upon Suburbia.

We have not been having that kind of rain lately. We have been having moody, cloudy, cold, vindictive rain. The kind of rain that comes down without the slightest bit of wind to make you think that it might blow away. The kind that keeps you trapped in the house, doing absolutely nothing and staring blankly out the window alternating with wanting to bathe in hopes that the sticky, humidity-caused film on your entire body will wash away. Unfortunately, it won't. You get out of the shower and just never completely dry.

I do not like this weather. I do not like the fact that I have no idea where I'm living next year. I do not like that I still haven't heard from Financial Aid, so I don't know if I will even be living in New York next year or commuting. I especially do not like that I have worked for a month now and have not gotten paid. I do not like having to hit my parents up for gas money.

I do like the fact that I have lost two pounds. I like the two live Iron and Wine cds I downloaded. I liked the Moroccan meal I made last night. I loved the book Beautiful Children. I liked the season premiere of Trueblood and that Eric the Vampire had foil in his hair when he ripped some dude's arm off. I like that Dead Like Me is on netflix instant-request, but am sad that it only ran for two seasons. I really like the new Phoenix album.

Did you know that you can find detailed directions of how to build an ark on the interwebs? No? Well, you can. And I shall post the link. Here you go:

Hop to it, kiddies.

Of Lubricious, Alacrity, and Perspicacious

I've decided that this summer is going to be one of Self Improvement. If I'm going to be stuck in a random office/both/hut for the entire summer, I might as well make good use of my time. So a few days ago, I went out and bought a GRE review book ($40. Yeah. My account balance then read: $4.46), and went through, circled the words I didn't recognize, and made flashcards. And disturbingly, there were quite a few. Enough, in fact, to fill an entire pack of index cards. My hand hurt like a bitch after writing all that shit out.

Why is this so disturbing? Vocab is just memorization, right? Well, yes. Yes it is. But it's rather humbling for me to realize that there are, indeed, words I do not know. I read all the time, and I don't think I'm flattering myself when I say that I have a damn good vocabulary. But good lord, some of these words are just nuts.

The book started out with lists of words that seemed a lot like SAT words. Things like obfuscate, salubrious, etc. Words I know. As the lists went on, however, I realized I was circling a higher and higher percentage. Suddenly, I would come across words like Extirpate (verb: to destroy, exterminate, cut out, exscind), Asseverate (verb: to aver, allege, assert), and my personal favorite, Jejune (adjective: vapid, uninteresting, nugatory). And that's not even counting the seemingly simple words that have obscure, mostly unknown second meanings. Like, did you know that the word 'Guy' doesn't just mean that dude down the hall? It also means A rope, cord, or cable attached to something as a brace or guide. Now, if you're scaling a mountain and your rope breaks, you can scream "Fucking Guy!" as you plummet to your death hundreds of feet below.

I'm on a mission to use at least ten of these words in one sentence. 'It is salubrious to not commit lubricious acts or wear meretricious outfits for fear of appearing minatory and descending to the nadir of your life obstreperously and plangently." That's seven. I'm working up to ten, slowly but surely.

An Apology and a Summation

So um. I'm kind of embarrassed about my blog post from yesterday morning. It was yet another one written in the midst of a panic attack. And I realize that losing weight takes time. I have to force myself to not to wish I could lose weight as fast as I did in freshman year, because that was anorexia and not a diet. The last thing I want is to have it control my life again. I don't want to be afraid of leaving the house because I'm afraid I'll be pressured into eating, I don't want my hair to start falling out in clumps again, and I don't want to stop getting my period for months.

So enough of that. Work actually hasn't been terrible yet. I've been mostly sitting around in various locations around the Park, whether it's the office, the beach booth, or the camping booth. I haven't had to wash too many bathrooms, and they finally stopped making me pick up garbage. I can't lift that shit.

I even really enjoy working the camping booth. It's a horrible shift, for sure, 12:45-9:15 on a saturday. But I like being alone in the camping booth with a book, some crossword puzzles, and my music. I like getting to sign in and talk to campers and see where they are all from. One hipster from Brooklyn offered to buy my old Fahnestock shirts, and I instantly regretted throwing them all out at the end of last summer. But at least now I know to sell them to Buffalo Exchange at the end of this season.

Last night, mom and I took a walk on the Dutchess Rail Trail. It reminded me a lot of the bike trail on the Cape. So this morning I came back for a run, and I was surprised at how I managed to run the majority of the distance. I only had to walk for a little less than a quarter of the time. Go me!

FmL

So after seriously, seriously strict dieting since the day I got home (cutting down to 18 points a day, which is something around 1600 calories) I finally got the nerve to weigh myself. And I have gained two pounds. I don't understand. Why am I bothering to diet if I'm just going to gain weight? Now I'm up to ten pounds heavier than when I left for Italy. I thought that by coming home and just not eating gelato and pasta every day would help me lose weight. Nope, apparently cutting calories and working out every day actually makes you gain weight! Surprise!

Fuck this shit. I'm getting my thyroid checked. Maybe there's something wrong with me. It does run in the family, after all. And for now I'm eating 12 points a day.