The Boys are Back in Town

This week I have been so into NSync. Maybe because their gender presentation is much like my own.

Nothing, I repeat, NOTHING sounds as fulfilling as being in a dance class where we learn NSync choreography.



Geez you'd get a workout. I don't want to just learn the dance, I also want to wear some kind of weird short sleeved mock turtleneck space workout top.

It's so weird to see male bodies eroticized for young girls. Maybe that's incorrect- their bodies remain pretty hidden. (Although JT does hang out in a tanktop on a bed.) They are so friendly! They have such a good time with their friends!


The idea of having a baby face boyfriend who wears suspenders and makes funny faces at the camera seems so sweet to me. Is that what teenage girls want? Or do they want controlling vampire types? Both?

My friend Molly liked Justin when he was still a scrawny curly headed little guy in a tank top. I didn't see it at all. Lance Bass was the hot one. It took this video before I was like, "Oh shiz! JT is grown!"



But in truth, I didn't have much time for NSync at the time, because Ricky Martin was getting me hot and bothered. Gay people always did it for me.

Although Ricky has not only his queerness, but a horn section in his favor. And those shakey, shakey hips.

Wacko

I have been feeling WACKO this weekend. Meaning screamy and lonely and sad and angry. This weekend and last week. But last week made sense, because it was before my period. This weekend though...I don't know what's up.

It could be that I started birth control, and that's making me wacko. When I was 18 and on birth control for 3 months I felt really wacko. I was hoping it wouldn't affect me the same way. I'm only 3 days in, so it's too early to decide but I'm keeping an eye out. I'll give it a month. I'll give it until next period and see if the migraine happens, then balance the hopeful lack of migraine against my emotional state.

When am I going to leave this wacko-ness behind?

It's like my migraines. After every attack I guess at what set it off, but the next time it won't be that same cause. Then I get turned around and think that it's not my wacko-ness, it's some material condition outside of myself that I can change, that once the world accomodates me I won't be like this.

It's just now that there's someone hanging around me enough that he is going to witness most of the wacko it's really embarrassing. And I'd rather not drive him away, if possible, although I am not necessarily taking responsibility for driving anyone else away in the past.

I really wanted the birth control, to get rid of my period, to get rid of my pms and horrible cramps and my migraines. My period is a doozie, and despite my distrust of the medical establishment's colonization of female bodies, I will enthusiastically collaborate with them if I could be a normal person all month long. And then I'm recommitted to taking a magnesium supplement everyday, in case a magnesium deficiency is to blame.

I would rather not be taking pills everyday. If the only thing standing between me and crazytown is a couple of pills, inevitably I will for no good reason forget to take the pills and then make some horrible decisions. I'd much rather stay out of crazytown through sheer force of will. But since my willpower is not strong enough to keep me taking vitamin supplements, it's definitely not strong enough to pull my back from a freak out.

I wonder if I'm getting ANY better at living? Or am I getting worse? Are there people who never develop life skills, and actually lose the meager skills they were equipped with? Well, there's Bob Dylan, but he was dealing with much weirder circumstances than I am.

I never stepped outside today

I woke up very late- it was almost 11. He made waffles and I cleaned the bathroom. We watched some tv. His room mate's parents visited, and they ate birthday cake. Now I have a show at 7. I do not have a set list, but I have two hours to come up with one. That does not increase the likelihood that it will get done before the show starts.

I biked everywhere I needed to go the last two days, and it wore me out. I am not in great shape. Mentally I was in better shape the last two days than I have been. Not that I have been depressed. I have been alternately calm and seized up with anxiety. Depression is constant, anxiety crashes down on me like blocks of iced up snow. Meaning it hits the back of my neck and my shoulders shoot up past my ears. The spikes and valleys are hard to ride, and I'd rather ride the bike, and remain constant.

I read parts of Suze Orman's "Money Book For The Young, Fabulous, and Broke" and was relived to find I am doing a-ok by Suze.

I have two jobs I really enjoy nowadays. I don't work enough at either, but I enjoy the time I spend at both quite a lot. It's wonderful to have fun work.

It's been 40 degrees for three days now, and it's done wonders for my hopefulness. That's how you build endurance. You suffer greatly, take a break, suffer twice as greatly, take a break, suffer 4 times as greatly, take a break, etc. It looks like I am committed to Chicago winters for 2 more years and so why resist? Why not let the winter mold and shape me into what it desires, and give up questioning the process or its intentions?

Oldsmofeel

I was thinking over the weekend of how old I'm getting, how my adorable baby face obscures my true age, but how the truth of my physical condition refuses to be denied. I cannot even consider going to stand in front of a band for more than 10 minutes. I like to be asleep by midnight. I need to take off my pants and bra as soon as I get home. Yes, old age has wrapped me in it's weak papery arms, and rather than squirm away I am letting myself by lulled to naptime.

This could be depressing, since with the passing of youth comes the passing of my chance to be the hot new young thing, whether that be at comedy or "activism" or legal assistantship or coffee preparation. Thank GOD. Thank you personality that runs the universe.

My youth has been a burden to me. I do not have a flair for irreverence. I need the vulnerability, the earnestness, the beleagurement, and the bodily complaints of a higher census bracket. I need the cliched comfort of old, vague moral rules. More than that I have not ever been able to meet the challenge of the energy and purpose expected of young womanhood. Young women can get A's while raising babies while running nonprofits while writing articles while running marathons while getting highlights. I have never been a young woman. I have always been an exhausted, aching shell. I have always wanted a nap and a sandwich.

With the realization of my advanced age, I now feel free to pursue my true comic purpose- to write gently humorous vignettes of family life. I'm gonna Bombeck it up. And if I can do this before I have a kid, then I NEVER have to have a kid, and I can start living a retiree lifestyle that matches my energy level.

Topics I'll be tackling: kids who won't sit still in church. Mothers in Law who offer up opinions about house cleaning. How long it takes husbands to fix what they say they'll fix. The many demands made of parents by elementary schools; how many cupcakes am I gonna have to bake?!
How inadequate I feel compared to 'super moms.'

What a wonderful thing, to leave the purposeless rooting of youth behind. Now excuse me, I have an antacid to take and some corn pads to put on.

In Line, On Line

Some steps have been taken to secure me a slot in graduate school next fall. I have sent my transcripts off. I have filled out and submitted the general university application. I have secured one out of three references. I have paid the fee. I now have to:

1) write my 4 personal statements
2) submit the program application
3) write my resume
4) get my two other references forms to the people I'm asking for a reference
5) register for a statistics course

I need a statistics course passed within the past 6 years for my program. I have a statistics course from college which is now 7 years old. (I am really getting up there.) I thought I could take one over the summer, but the program wants it by the end of spring term. Which means I am now at Harold Washington College trying to register for one. A math class which would start on the 19th.

This is how badly I want to go to grad school- I am willing to wait patiently to take another MATH class for the next 3 months. Math! I really truly thought I was done with math classes. Of course, it's stats, which is much more intuitive to me than any other kind of math, including long division, so it's fine.

And I have computer access, which means I can work on my personal statements.

I have some anxiety that when I finally get to see an adviser, I will be somehow blocked from registering from this class. If that happens I will handle it with grace and aplomb. Whatever aplomb is, that is what I will use to handle it.

Doggies!

I moved in with a new room mate, who has a cuddly dog. I love cuddly dogs. I love codependent, separation anxiety ridden dogs who secretly dominate you by taking up the entire bed or sitting right on your lap.

I vowed after I gave Laila back to my ex that I wouldn't get another dog as long as she lived. That vow is still in effect. I have just found the loophole of living with people with dogs with similar personality disorders.

When I gave Laila back it was under the presumption that I was getting to a point in my comedy career where I might have to be on the road for stretches of time, and so it was better for her to be with a stable 9 to 5-er. Then about a month after she left I had a major comedy career crisis and took a break from it. I never went on the road, and that's not something I'm pursuing. I did take the kind of job where you work for 10 hours a day and could at any point be called away to go to another state, but I was never called away suddenly either.

Oh, it was for the best, I guess. I couldn't have moved in with my dear ex room mates, I couldn't have taken that job and eliminated it from potential careers, I couldn't have gone to all those dance parties.

But guys, Laila is the BEST DOG. She is so loving, and so stubborn, and so funny looking. She is so soft and such a cuddler. She is so mean to cats.

Benita, the new dog in my life, is certainly a joy in many of the same ways. They both get up on the bed when you're asleep and then slowly but surely shift sideways, so that in the morning they are laying perpendicular to you and their legs are pushing you into the wall. They both have very very soft short fur. They both wreck the apartment when you leave. They both have very hard foreheads. They both terrorize cats. They both pull at the leash and try to attack other dogs.

Laila is a beagle-bassett hound mix and Benita is a pitbull. So you would think Benita would be the scarier dog, and I do worry about her getting too scary on a walk and someone freaking out. But Laila is actually scarier. In spite of her disarmingly short legs and hot dog body and weirdly long tail, Laila scared the crap out of people when she'd rear at their dogs. That bitch was not messing around.

When she was alone Laila would take all of my yarn and run it around the apartment, unspooling it in a big loop that covered every room. Benita freaked out when she was alone yesterday and ate the back of a chair.

The BF worries that Benita will eat his face, but it's much more likely Benita will eat my face, because I like to get my face as close to hers as I can. They both let you pull them around by their legs when they're laying on their backs, so I am constantly pulling Benita into my lap or into my arms.

I can't wait to find some frozen raw beef bones for her. Those are much better to eat than chairs. But almost as upsetting to come home to.

Finally Sold My Car

Oh gosh. Finally finally finally. I am so happy. Think of never having to pay another street cleaning parking ticket! Or rush hour parking ticket! Or city sticker parking ticket! What I'm saying is, the City of Chicago is an inhospitable environment for automobiles.

It's also a relief because the car is a vestige of a former job of mine. I bought it for the job, and it sucks having vestiges of a job after the job is gone. Next vestige to go will be my iphone. (Anyone want to buy an iphone and a car charger for 30 bucks?) I learned the geography of the northern suburbs in that car. Which was something I was never interested in learning.

I will be a bike owner only again. Maybe I will be happy all the time again. Probably not. But it's very likely I will have more energy. And it's overwhelmingly likely that I will have more money. Those are two things I cannot wait to have more of in my life.

My Computer Ended

It was a slow, slow death. I've known it was dying for 2 years now. It might be able to be resuscitated. That would sure be nice. Especially when it comes to applying for jobs.

I had a good New Year's. Well, I spent the day with a migraine and threw up 10 times. So most of New Year's was really awful, and I thought a lot about how having that horrible headache and feeling nauseous was one incident of many that reflected my flaws and bad decisions. Then the BF made me take an excedrin, and kept me sufficiently distracted that I didn't vomit it right back up, and the headache went away. Such relief! Once it was gone I didn't want to do all that self-recrimination.

Then we sat on the couch and exchanged Christmas presents. It was really nice.

I'm glad 2009 is over and I'm sure 2010 will be great. Debts will be paid off, school will be attended, bikes will be biked on, cars will be sold, fiber will be eaten in much greater quantities. Winter will be endured, spring will be celebrated, summer will be partied through, fall will be suspiciously accepted, the start of winter will be rejected and mourned. Gigs will be performed. Paychecks will be earned and spent. Migraines will rip through me and cause existential crises. When they go away I'll feel exceptionally grateful. I will read some self help books. The past will be idealized, the future will be alternately feared and idealized, narratives will be constructed to connect all these events and sometimes they'll work and sometimes they won't. I bet I'll keep writing this blog. I bet I'll still like quotes. I bet I won't die. I bet I won't even break a limb. I bet I won't even get a bad diagnosis of anything.

I am opposed to millionaires, but it would be dangerous to offer me the position.- Mark Twain