Yesterday I signed a lease for my very own by-myself, out-of-college apartment. It's one of the aforementioned efficiencies. I think I am going to really really really really like it, if only for the fact that every square inch of it will be miiiiinnneeee.

(Sometimes living with other people makes me feel like I can't breeeeaaaaathe.)

I am also going to really really like it because it's the first time in a long time I've made a decision and stuck with it regardless of other people telling me I need to "get out of Boone," or I'll "get stuck," yadda yadda yadda. Fuck those guys. I actually like Boone.

(And it's not like I won't be leaving next year. Really, I just want to get a job and chill the fuck out for a few months.)

This weekend is Alyce's bachelorette party in Charleston, which, as much as I love Alyce, I really don't want to go to because A. it's supposed to thunderstorm the whole time, B. I don't want to drive and C. I don't really know all that many other people who will be there.

Pretty much I'm just feeling lazy and would rather go see my mom and my brother for the weekend, but I've already promised myself away. I'm sure once I get there I'll probably have fun.

Last night I made midnight banana bread, because I'm still not sleeping quite right. Though as soon as I pulled everything out of the oven, I crawled into bed and slept almost the entire night. (I did dream about kissing the ex-lover though. Which is good, because then I wake up and go 'what an awful idea that would be!' so if I'm ever in that situation ((likely)) I can refrain.)

Tonight my plans are to bake, to go see Diane Glancy read, and hopefully hang out with the ginger.

Tomorrow, 12:30, appointment for apartments!

I am very excited about living by myself.
Hopefully on campus hill.
So I can have alone time but also walk down the stairs to see Amanda if I get lonely.
(I'm actually not sure where the units available are, but I think they're somewhere in that general vicinity.)

All SCS&Future (or whatever the fuck they're called) have left are efficiencies, but I think a very small place will be good for me. It will encourage me to get rid of some of my shit.

I'm a packrack, and I have been my entire life. I'm the person who likes to soak labels off of wine bottles, keep the bottle because it's neat and keep the label because it's pretty, and eventually just have them lying around taking up space while I pretend like I will use them both again somehow in the future.

And jars. I cannot manage to throw away a jar. When I moved out of my last apartment, I ended up recycling over 30 empty jars. That I held on to, y'know, 'just in case,' because you never know when you might need a jar. Or 30.

I need to releeeaaassseee. I do not need to keep every old Christmas card. I do not need to keep all my old magazine issues, particularly if I didn't really read them when I first got them. I do not need all the clothes I have that I think are neat but, for some reason, never wear.

I mean, to get technical, I don't *need* most of the shit I own, but whatever.

(If I find a place I like tomorrow, I am completely prepared to sign a lease and put down a security deposit. It feels good to be confident in a decision, even if it might not be a good idea. At least I am learning more about confidence.)

Mmm rockrockrock.

Last night: punk show, BBI. I did not receive a coveted black eye, but I did get my lip smashed during the first song so that's pretty badass, right? I am sore and covered in bruises and still slightly high from the physicality of it all. Though the bike jousting was scary, particularly when Will hit the trash cans and then took a really bad spill on those damn giant bikes. But whatever, he's a tough cookie.

Today I used the weather as an excuse to not do much of anything. I've watched inordinate amounts of Anthony Bourdain, made a badass soup, and cut out the pieces for (what will probably be) a ridiculous hat. I was going to make some sort of psuedo-italian inspired wrap for dinner, but Tyler invited me over for what turned out to be a very delicious quiche.

I am a very big fan of cooking and people who do it. I think a lot of people have become incredibly disassociated with things they actually consume. Take my roommates, for instance -- at least 75% of what they eat comes out of a box or microwaveable container or from a fast food place. Taking the time to actually cook something makes you not only appreciate the end result so much more, but also allows you to create something that you probably will really love and might not get anywhere else (yam ravioli with garlic rue, for instance).

I understand that not everyone likes to cook. I don't think I'll ever really understand why, though (y'know, aside from the time factor, but I figure if you don't have time to make yourself a quick dinner, you probably have bigger issues to take care of). I think I just really enjoy the idea of taking a bunch of ordinary things and bringing them all together in new ways to make something extraordinary.

(*god, I'm a nerd*)

I'm pretty sure.
I don't understand.
Anyone.
Sothere.

The tasting went well, I think. Besides me not having enough time to finish everything. I have a few things to spruce up on, but it seems the ravioli was a fucking hit. God I love sweet potatoes. After the tasting, I also got funny conversations and cute cuddles. I am heeding my own advice and making no advances. I think that's probably better for my self-esteem, at this point.

Today is a sunny day, which means I need to go out and take pictures for class if I can find friendlings who will venture forth into the world with me, before the light gets bad. Emma said she could. Hopefully I can find one or two other people too.

I am feeling sort of 'meh', which is funny because I started this day off fairly well.

Hmmph.

Last night was Danna's birthday, great success! We threw a balloon/dance party which would have been a surprise if Chris knew how to keep his damn mouth shut. Oh well. Much fun was still had by all. Though the ex-lover was there, and as of last weekend I think we've agreed to attempt to be friends, at least in public? He can be a lot of fun, I admit, though just because we're going to be friends doesn't give him license to try and put his hands on me, even at dance parties. We've actually had the discussion a few months ago, but I believe he was too drunk to remember it. *le sigh* I think what was most uncomfortable about it was that the party was at the Red House, aka Gary's house, as in "Hey, dude, it's waaaaay disrespectful to try and feel up your friend's ex-girlfriend, especially in front of him, especially in his own home, regardless of how long it's been since she was seeing either one of you."

Perhap's that's just my view of it though. Whatever.

Today I had a meeting with Dr. S about my Mayan research paper from last semester. Pretty much I'm converting some of the information to be viable for this semester's linguistic research paper, and then utilizing that paper as fodder for a different paper, all about the Pan-Mayan movement and class issues and whatnot. The big joke is that I'm not going to receive any class credit for the final product; it's all just for the sake of *research*, *academia*, and potentially getting published. So, I've concluded I'm stupid because lord knows I have enough shit I'm not taking care of already, so let's throw an independent study project on top of it. Yay!

Tonight is my tasting, which I am really excited about, provided I have enough time to cook everything. So I guess I should get off my lazy ass and start some cookies then.

(But all I really want to do is take a nap.)

oh good lord

I never plan it, it just happens. Accidental drunk, woooooo!

I hate drinking and then saying things that seem like a real good idea at the time, but upon retrospect may not have been. I don't think I said anything I don't really mean though.

Conclusion: For the most part, people are really neat. I should stop having sex with them so we can mutually appreciate our neat-ness without any potential complications. Though in the same breath I say I would still like to get laid soon. Oh, what fickle creatures we humans are!

Also: Sometimes there aren't any complications but I feel like there should be so I make them up? (Verdict's still out on that one.)

So right now I am about to crawl into bed for the second time. That's what sucks about accidental drunks on school nights; having to drive my sad, sad self home the next morning to avoid being ticketed. I was too drunk to even remember what I dreamed, or most of the cuddles, for that matter.

This should probably stop before I go skipping down the path of self-destruction.

blah blah blah

I hate having to come up with titles for blog posts; I think that's the biggest tipoff that they're never really about anything, ever.

I am still looking for a one bedroom to live in next year, close to King ST. Going into SCS&Future or whatever the fuck it's called tomorrow to see if they have any units left on Hippy Hill. I like the idea of living by myself in such a big complex because, while I'll have alone time, I can always make friends with neighbors. Plus I think Amanda will be living just down the hill? Apparently the apartments on top *not* facing King ST have gotten a face lift, and aren't too expensive. We'll see, I guess.

I'm most hesitant to sign a lease at the moment since I don't have a job, but I am confident that I will be able to get one (albeit a shitty one) by the time I have to move. Good news: I got my tax return so I can afford a security deposit.

Last night after spending some time pretending to work at the library, I went with Matt to Murphy's to get a beer, as we both hate going to Douchebag Tuesdays because there's always so many fucking people there. One beer turned into a pitcher that turned into two. Whoops. I feel like my life lately has been a series of accidental drunks. Anyway, we started discussing life, what we want to do, etc., all in a deadly serious and very passionate way, which was very endearing and made me feel really optimistic (though it could have been the drinks. anyway.).

So, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be a baker. I guess I got some planning to do, huh?

Just to stay clarified

I want to make sure I don't forget anything this week.

WEDNESDAY: reading for linguistics, class until 6:50, either Casablanca with Danna at 7 or quiche with Tyler

THURSDAY: class until 5, maybe a meeting with Amanda about The Shit?, plans the rest of the night

FRIDAY: meeting with Dr. S at 1:00, grocery shopping and cooking baking, tasting at 7:00

H'OKAY!

ALSO: My friend Katrina asked me to bake her wedding cake for her, and I nearly pissed my pants in excitement. HOLY CRAP! This calls for practice cakes. I will pass out goodies to all.

Patron Saints of Baking

I think this is neat.

St. Honore: Patron saint of bakers

AKA : Honoratus; Honortus

Feast : May 16th

Born : Porthieu, Amiens, France

Died : 30 September 653 at Porthieu, Amiens, France; miracles reported at his tomb, especially in 1060 when his body was exhumed

Canonised : Unknown

St. Honore was the Bishop of Amiens.

St. Honore is represented by a baker's peel or shovel; bishop with a large Host; bishop with three Hosts on a baker's shovel; loaves; prelate with a hand reaching from heaven to give him bread for the Mass

He is also the Patron Saint of bakers of holy wafers, cake makers, confectioners, candlemakers, chandlers, confectioners, corn chandlers, florists, flour merchants, oil refiners, pastry chefs

St. Radegonde : Patron saint of female cooks/chefs

AKA :

Feast : 13th August

Born : 518

Died : 587

Canonised : Unknown

Daughter of the pagan king of Thuringia who was assassinated by Clotaire I and who kidnapped, baptised, and married the 12 year old Radegunde, then badly mistreated her. She eventually left him and took the veil from Saint Medard. Founded and lived the rest of her life at the convent of the Holy Cross, Poiters, France. Spiritual student of Saint John of Chinon.

Weekends whoops

Goodness, whenever I try to plan out a schedule for the day it goes COMPLETELY out the window. Like today, for instance.

Yesterday was Valentine's Day, which on any other year might have depressed me but for some reason has pretty much passed by this year with not so much as a whisper of discontent. I am attributing this to the fact that I'm not involved with any gentlemen right now so I don't have any false hopes of special attention on this greeting-card-company invented holiday. Yeah. So, I was about to make myself pancakes when Tim called and asked if I wanted to go out to lunch. We went to Tuppelo's and I had probably the most delicious sandwich ever (salmon and smoked gouda with spicy mustard, mmm). My lovely Tim footed the bill for Valentine's Day (awww). Later that night we went out to the National Guard Armoury for AMATUER FIGHT NIGHT, YEESSS!!! Holy balls, I fucking love watching people hit each other. I'm sure there's some anthropological reason for it, something about stirring up primal urges and whatnot, but all I know is there's something incredibly exciting and satisfying about watching two men pit their bodies against each other in a display of physical strength. During one of the last championship rounds the blue corner guy gave his opponent a bloody nose pretty early, so by the end of the match they were both covered in his blood from neck to v, and red's face was just one sheet of red. Pretty much, it was AWESOME. Best Valentine's Day date ever, ha ha ha!

I want to be a boxer. I guess I should start working out and stop smoking then, huh?

After that we went out to Boone Saloon where Woody Pines was playing, which is always an absolute delight. If I love the south for anything, it's the music (uh, and the food, ha ha. if you can fry it and roll it in butter, I'm a fan). I danced with an ex-lover. He's one of those you hate because despite how fucked up everything has been, you can't really hate him and whenever you see him, if you can forget about the bullshit it's absolutely wonderful. However, when thinking clearly I know he's just another jackass with a lot of charm. Maddening. Afterwards I got to dance with Gabe which was much more enjoyable because he's a sweet pea. When the bar closed we went over to Jennah's for a few more hours of drinking and bonding. Kris and I stumbled home around 5 and fell asleep to the Karate Kid.

So, today I was supposed to be up by 11, etc. Uh... yeah... whoops. Rolled out of bed at 1 and went to a delicious Thai brunch with the kids from last night. Got back to my place around 3, then took a three hour nap (see previous post about bizarre-ass dreams). And since I woke up I really haven't done anything except watch Food Network and read the piece I have to critique for Creative Nonfiction tomorrow, and worry about my future.

What. a. weekend.

bad dreaammss

For some reason, especially in the last two years or so, I've become more and more susceptible to having entirely vivid dreams. Also, to remember a lot of them

Lately I've been having dreams that, while not up to the category of "nightmare," have definitely started rambling into the realm of slow horror. I just woke up from a nap. In my dream, I was in a house that sort of was like where I live now but much bigger. I was living with some other people I don't know, who belonged to a family that lived in a house above us. Apparently they had been having major family issues, as in, like, evil beating parents and all the kids were fucked up in a really pseudo-religious sort of way. Skip ahead a little bit -- I walked around the corner in my house and looked at the stairs, and one of the girls from the other family had hung herself in the stairwell. She was wearing a dark blue dress and her dark brown hair was done up in pigtailed braids.

I remember just feeling shocked, and I walked back and hid on my back porch (which, at this point, was screened in) when some other people (maybe Jodie, definitely Laurence) came in. I asked them if they had seen the girl and they said yes. Laurence said he had called the paramedics. He said they were gonna be pissed because everything in the house was such a mess. And then he asked if we knew about (insert name here), that he was really a serial rapist and was actually the father figure for the strange family. More shock. Then we started finding out that someone had planted drugs all over the house, and everyone was really freaking out about it.

I'm not really sure what spawned that dream. Or last night's, where mostly what I remember is a very terrifying boat ride on this wooden boat riding down a brown, tempestuous river, and stumbling upon these people whose limbs had been eaten off to the joints.

weird.

art journal and 21

Yesterday I went over to Kristi's and tried to get a few pages done on my artist's journal for Lynn's class. Kristi let me peek through hers and DAMN is it really, really neat. Kristi, I love the colors you've used. So far mine is done primarily in blacks, silvers and reds (quelle surprise, non? ha ha) and doesn't really contain much more than a found poem and the first segment of "The Hollow Men." Tomorrow, though, is a day for work: I aim to be up by 11 (not a very lofty goal, but one I feel I can stick to depending on how my night goes), on King Street by 1 (looking adorable, to schmooze around Gladiola Girls and Lucky Penny so I can look like a cool customer that a manager will offer a job to), in Espresso News doing my homework shortly after the schmoozing, and then perhaps back home to work on some art journal pages before meeting Leah and others for poetry time at 8, and then my ladies at Macado's for Gin&Tonic night.

Last night was also Amanda's 21st birthday party, hooray! It's very exciting when a new friend gets initiated into the order of legal inebriation; that way I have another person to go out to the bar with. It's good to rotate so you don't look like a complete alckie, ha ha. Much dancing and hugging occured, and Amanda made some delicious vodka punch using her mom's baby shower punch recipe, ha ha. I got to dance with the ginger when he showed up, which is always a delightful riot! Pretty much, it was good news all around.

Truancy

Today I took a personal day. I woke up this morning with an overwhelming desire to clean my apartment and, as that rarely happens, I decided that I should act upon it and cleeeaaan.

I am sort of OCD in that, when I am over at other people's houses hanging out or during parties or something, I really like to clean their places. Particularly collecting all the cans and bottles and rinsing them out for recycling. But for some reason when it comes to my own apartment, I am a little less motivated.

Not so good for me. Good for you, though.

So I cleaned and ran a few errands and whatnot, and then proceeded to have a really pleasant night with my new friend Tyler. We baked my favorite dark chocolate chocolate chip cookies with peppermint butter cream icing (the baking was his idea. that's how I knew we would probably be friends) and watching Duel, which is apparently Steven Spielberg's first movie? The cookies came out great and, after eating one, I felt like I had just shot up (oh, sugar!). The movie was wonderfully ridiculous, and made even better because Tyler apparently talks all the way through movies too (or at least this one) which I have a habit of annoying people by doing. Silly banter all around. I really enjoyed myself and the company.

Tomorrow: art day with Kristi and Emma, hooray! I've been looking forward to this all week :) I think I will probably try and do something with the mysterious 'art journal' I'm supposed to be keeping for Poetry/Bookmaking, which Lynn has been completely reticent about. Also probably jewelry, because I haven't made any new jewelry in a really long time, and I have beads out the whazoo. And maybe fixing up a piece or two for Art Expo.

Yeah!

(Also, yes, I gave in and made a fucking blog here too. So now I have three different online journals, all read by different people, in addition to the 9485748 I have handwritten, ha ha ha.)