Random Memory

So a handful of years ago, I went to visit my family in Cincinnati. My dad wanted to take me to one of his local haunts, a little dive bar in Reading, Ohio. I can't remember the name, but "dive bar" it was.

We go in, he introduces me to the bartender (I'd never been there) and he buys a round. He'd told me that he's got a little group of friends he hangs out with there, and I had a friend in town so I'd invited her to meet us there. Lindsey shows up, and we go off to hang on our own while he kicks it with his buddies. One of these buddies is a young woman, probably only a few years older than me, who Dad says has the hots for him. I think, "Sure, ok, Dad," and don't think about that again.

Fast forward an hour or so. I'm ready for another beer, and so is Lindsey. Dad had told us to just get drinks on his tab. Dad's over chatting with his group, and to be polite I go over and sneak in a quick, "Hey, it's cool to put another beer on your tab, right?" He says yes, but before I can walk away, the young woman he'd mentioned earlier turns to me and looks me up and down. I see the claws start to come out, and will full catty commencing, says to me, "Sooooo. How you YOU know Rick?".

Oh, boy. So thinking I can be a little cheeky I reply, "Oh, I'm just the fruit of his loins."

Well, I severely overestimated my audience. Because she reaches Cat Level 1000 and stares me down. I'm like, "Uh oh, she's about to rip my hair out...". So then I clarify, "I'm his kid."

Lady does a total 180... "Ohhhhh! I didn't know Rick had a daughter!" blah blah blah she's suddenly trying to chum up to me. She notices the tattoo on my arm of the snake eating an elephant from "The Little Prince" (yeah I did my best to avoid explaining that one...), and tells me she just got a new tattoo. "It's awesome! Here, look."

At this, she turns, pulls the waistband of her pants way low, and shows me the fresh Tasmanian Devil tattoo on her butt cheek. Of freaking course.

I'm like, "Oh, cool! Well, my friend's over there, so have fun, y'all!" because there was nothing else I could say about that without turning into a snarky asshole. She realized I wasn't the competition, and I watched her double-down her efforts for the rest of the night. They were not successful,

And that's the story about the time some lady thought I was macking on her crush, my dad, and was ready to start a bar fight over him. Keep it classy, Reading!

A list of things

Here is a by-no-means-definitive list of things that I'm convinced all other 34-year-olds have had at least once that have as yet evaded me:

- A mortgage
- A police record
- A moving violation. I did get a parking ticket once, though.
- On that note, a working vehicle
- A relationship with a degree of permanency
- A vehicle made within 15 years of my current age (owned but not currenty running)
- A salary higher than 30K/year
- A dog
- A perpetually clean house
- Motivation to clean said house
- A passport
- A visit to the West Coast
- A visit to somewhere Caribbean
- A visit outside the US
- A basic idea of what the hell I want to be when I grow up
- A plan for that thing above I don't know
- A desire to go to bed before 11 pm
- A membership to the gym/YMCA/community center
- A kid
- A love of salads
- Getting to that "morning person" stage of life
- Needing breakfast and/or coffee before doing anything else
- That "got my shit together" feeling
- A lack of freedom because of spouse/kids/whatever
- Super-crazy unmanagable debt
- Getting ahead
- A Blu-ray player
- A pregnancy scare
- Having only a few endings left to choose in my personal "Choose Your Own Adventure" book...

I ain't got much. But it's all open-ended from here.

I'm not entirely sure how I feel about this.

1995 me and 2014 me are a bit at odds.

OK, Stupid

*I started this draft on 11/10/13 with the full intention of returning over the next few days and finishing it. Then I flaked. I'm leaving it as is. 

Sometime in early 2012 something went awry in the synaptic communication in my brain and I created an OKCupid account. I suppose I had these illusions of there being this horde of Eligible Bachelors hiding within Athens whereby chance had not yet crossed our paths. Perhaps they burrow through the old tunnels below the streets of downtown; our own Classic City Mole People, only they're attractive and have jobs and like cats and beer and own computers. After all, I've only been here 14 [quickly nearing 15 now] years, and I only go to the 6-7 places that pretty much anyone I'd usually like go to as well... So I thought "Why the hell not?" and signed up thinking I'd find these elusive available decent-looking emotionally-mature and not-full-of-BS guys somewhere outside my usual haunts.

 Excuse me while I ROFLMAOLOLOLOLLLLL! 'Cause for the most part, nope. [This is still true.] 

Now, I don't mean that there aren't some good guys on there. I've chatted with some seemingly (I say seemingly because I'm chatting online, which means I can't guarantee what's actually on the other keyboard) normal, nice dudes. Some I could be attracted to, some I'm not, but they're nice nonetheless so what's wrong with just chatting with someone? Maybe I'll make a friend or two, at least. [I've made one new acquaintance that I hang with from time to time in a platonic manner. I did also meet someone else shortly after starting this draft that I've been seeing very regularly since January, so yay for that. And he is very nice. Here is where the old draft ends and where I pick up the story again.]

But, holy shit. The majority of messages I get are, well, nothing special. But many are better off ignored. There are plenty of stories out there featuring folks who've created fake profiles to see what kind of crazy they can find. I'm not one of those, so I figured I'd feature some of the finest in online dating that a regular girl, with a regular profile, gets from "regular" dudes looking for love in all the wrong online places. I suppose in the act of fairness, I should share my profile. Yep. That's me. I like to think I'm not totally off-base in how I've presented myself, but of course without having 10 of my friends over to get drunk and fill all that crap out for me I can't be entirely sure that this is really what I'm like to other people. Either way, it's not a total lie.

The majority of my profile views come from guys under the age of 24 looking for casual sex and from middle-aged men with just about zero in common with me (Christian conservatives love me, apparently). Most never message me. Some do the super-basic "hi." thing. Some are funny because they attempt to impress with flowery language and too much flattery (and the majority of these fail hard at it). And some are just WUT. Lucky for you, I've decided to share some with you.(Note: unless otherwise noted, these are the openers these gentlemen sent. Not stuff they said after established conversation, which is why some that don't seem too weird are included. If you wouldn't come up to me and say it to me in line at the bank, you probably shouldn't message it to a rando girl and expect a serious response.)

I present: OKCupid. Ur Doin it Wrong. click the images to see full size

Note the time of that first message. 

Not too weird on the surface, but still... "I only contact once then I press hide..." as the first thing you say to me doesn't really scream "possible romance ahead".

Uhhhhh... thanks?

Oh, yeah. I have this thing here...

Good thing I don't get paid to write. (Well, I kinda do, but it's very specific things so I've generally got a running tally of what to do).

If I did, I'd be one broke motherfucker. And probably homeless. Or at least sleeping on your couch.

I gotta get on it.

How did we all miss this for two years??

Because I shouldn't just post ranting, snark, and self-serving drivel, I bring you a little bit o' awesome.

This was recorded live in Dallas in July of 2011 by Josh Weathers of the Josh Weathers Band. I had never heard of them until today, when this came across the old Facebook feed.

I mean... wut? Me and pretty much every woman I know saw this and considered packing our bags and heading off to Texas. Then I remembered that this and Austin is all that Texas has going for it right now, and my chances of snagging this are zero to nill. Such is life.

Anyway, we can all go home now.

The Wasp

Is not a wasp.

Well, technically it is. This is a mud dauber, I think. It lives in the left-hand arm of a chair on my porch. The chair I got from my neighbor who got it from his mom and it lived in his house for a while before it moved next door with me. I don't know where his mom got it but its history is most likely filled with facinating stories. Who cares about the fly on the wall or the wall itself? The fly dies in 24 hours and the walls are on the outskirts looking in. The furniture is right there in it, immersed amongst every and all life within a space. Furniture is intimate. Our furniture has seen us naked and absorbed our tears. We've farted and drooled and spilled coffee on it. We've laughed at movies, that, when with friends, we deny enjoying lest we be judged. We've found love and then later shattered their hearts on our furniture.

Think of what we'd hear if furniture could talk.

The chair is dirty. I've never taken the time to vacuum it and take it inside, away from the brilliance of day and the wetness of every other time. The porch is covered but it's no armory. The chair is sun-bleached. There's a hint of what might be mold growing in the creases. There is no odor. It's welcoming, the perfect size and cushiness for curling up with a book. That is, if you're a fairly compact human like I am. Would it be awkward for someone else? Is cushiness a word? The chair can't answer that but I know my opinion.

Besides the grime that's collected over the past year (2 years, maybe? I've lost track of so many things...) the chair has the scars unique to those who cohabitate with cats. Cats do what cats do and are skilled in the use of their equipment. In The Chair's case, the cats opened up the edges of each arm so they could someday be a portal to safe haven for a winged insect with only one real purpose in life.

The dauber lives in the left arm. In years past, left-handedness was considered evil and an affliction. This is where the word sinister has its origins. Not in darkness but in leftness. Leftness meant darkness. Darkness meant evil. Evil means the end of life. The dauber, it doesn't fit her.

She should have picked the right side. It's closer to the house and more protected. The TV tray-turned-side table is not on the right, though it should be since I'm right-handed and therefore not sinister. But does it work that way in wasps? If so I imagine that perhaps maybe she's left-winged, since after all that's the side she picked. And maybe if she were human she'd have voted for Obama and supported gay marriage.

I can't see into her nest; the frayed upholstery acts as drapes. I know she's solitary like me. She buzzes in, buzzes out, she sometimes stops to sip at a bead of water- or beer- that's collected on the TV tray-turned-side table. She's a loner, but also like me I imagine she craves just a bit of company. Company that doesn't ask for too much and doesn't tire her out or make her feel smaller than she actually is.

the dauber doesn't ask for much either. She's never shown any real concern with my presence. I sit in the chair, she leaves. I sit in the chair, she returns. Each time she returns, she does a quick buzz around my head. I think she's making sure it's just me there; someone she knows, the familiar face. And then she says a quick hello before disappearing into the armchair cavern she's settled for.

I watch her fly off and wonder if she's happy. It's a simple life, the insect life. Hatch, mature, mate, see the hatchlings off, and die. Still, I wonder how far she traveled that day, and how many more days she has left to travel. I wonder if she'll venture too close to a stranger; and if she does, will that be her end or will she evade the hastily grabbed magazine? Does she like the beer beads I've offered her? I only offer the best. When she comes home, is she relieved that it's me curled in the chair and not the transient neighborhood cat? Or is she simply tolerating me as a good neighbor with a good fence?

The wasp buzzes by for the last time this evening. She retreats into her comfortable place, where though her worries are many she can tend to only herself. Somehow this helps. Tomorrow she'll go out again. It won't be different from today.

The book I'm reading stopped holding my interest long ago. I know this because I've read the same page maybe three times, maybe five, and with each pass it's all new to me. So I mark the page and go inside. I'll watch television and then go to bed, most likely after a brief accidental sleep on the couch.

Tomorrow I'll go out again.

Macias is the new Black

Remember this absolute nightmare of musical nightmares?

"We we we so excited"

Now imagine that Ms. Black here were to come across Zoltar Speaks and wish to be big. And a man.

That's Rebecca right there, in the Dukes jacket.

Know what'd you get? This. 

"Say farewell to the hate"

We not so excited. 

You're welcome, by the way.

Despite All Our Rage...

Oops. It's been since July since I posted something. Crazy how I keep thinking I want to write, but then I never actually do it...

A while ago, I found this book in the used bookstore. Every now and then, I pop into Jackson Street Books and just sort of rifle around. I don't usually have any one thing I'm looking for, and I don't worry myself with checking reviews and whatnot for books I buy there. I go in, pick up something which I've solely judged by its cover (or title), read the inside jacket for subject matter and maybe a page or two to be sure the writing style doesn't make me want to stick sharp things in my eyes, and boogie on out of there. After checking my bank balance... so anyway, that book came home with me.

I haven't finished it yet, but as the title suggests it's about the acceleration of just about everything. No lie. I just got through a chapter where it talked about how the work environment of the average American has changed over time- more hours, less compensation, more overtime or off-books work, less leisure time, more uninterrupted access to employees/coworkers through electronic means, less quiet time, more time spent commuting, less time to cook healthy meals, less time to socialize, less vacation time... less living. This book was released in 1999, too, so what's crazy is to look at the hurry-up-edness the author had witnessed at that time, and realize that with all the innovations for productivity and corporate claims of upholding a work/life balance, the tools available for easing the average worker's workloads haven't done squat to actually free up some time or actually make the worker more productive. Which I kinda can't wrap my head around in some ways.

Why, in 2012, are we stuck in cages? We are... most of us get up in the morning at a specific time, to a specific and terrible sound. We move ourselves from home to some other location with arrival at a specific time. We sit in a specific area of a specific building. We meet with specific people about specific topics at another specific (and generally inconvenient for at least one person) time. We do our tasks for a specific number of hours. And we leave at a specific time, to return home, where other types of specific duties wait, but often go ignored. We're boxed in, for sure. And it makes no sense any more. It's not relevant to today's technologies.

This is the age of lightning-fast electronic transmission. Of having the ability to communicate with someone down the street or on the other side of the world with the same level of effort. Of being able to manage most tasks online wherever there is a connection available. We answer our cell phones and check our work emails during "non-work" hours. Most folks have resorted to mostly email-based communications anyway. We have 24-hour grocery stores, 24-hour banking, 24-hour restaurants, 24-hour gyms, 24-hour communication and news and bombardment of information. For all intents and purposes, we've become a 24-hour society with a 24-hour workday.

So why are we all having to drag ourselves out of bed with the help of an alarm clock, relocate to a place a couple miles (or many miles, if you aren't as lucky as I am) away, and cram a bunch of tasks that aren't really required to be done in that context within the confines of 9 am and 5 pm? I of course agree with the argument of company continuity and wanting coworkers to know each other. I agree that every now and then we all need to sit down together and talk about shit in person and brainstorm and all that. But a lot of these things can be accomplished in a day or two. Or at least in smaller 'office hours' sessions. The rest? No strict deadline, outside of "in a timely manner". What difference does it make if I write a press release (which I email for second opinions, FYI... hurry up and wait) at 9 am in my freezing "office" (which is not an office, but a cubby where I can't get one freaking second to think without interruption) or at 4 pm in the quiet, comfortable environment of my house or wherever I think I'll work best?

I do like the social aspect of the office. I just don't see the true value in forcing it on everyone in today's age. And the social part of the office is actually pretty detrimental to true productivity. Anyway, going back to my press release question... which one's better? Well, for me, the one at 4 pm will be a better written, more creative piece. I'm not at all a morning person, and I think a big part of the population is with me. I can go to bed at 8 pm, and I still will have the damnedest time getting up and moving if the sun's not up yet. It's just not natural for me. I'd be best suited to wake up sans alarm clock around 9:30-10 am and start working around 11. That's when I become a fully-functional, productive human being rather than a fuzzy-headed, overly-caffeinated, brain-blocked zombie. Though ideally I wouldn't work until 7 pm. The thing is, though, that I most likely wouldn't need to. Because I'd be that much more productive. It's not the amount of time you put into something that matters, it's the amount of care and the desire to do a good job. It's having ownership over what you do and being happy to do what you do.

Rather than look at total hours worked, people could be reviewed simply on whether or not the job was completed as necessary, and whether or not they actually did a good job. For this to work, though, everyone would have to work on salary. People getting paid hourly will milk that clock for all it's worth if they work too quickly and clear out the ol' To Do list before the whistle blows. High levels of productivity don't really mesh with hourly pay unless someone regularly has to work more than 40 hours a week; then it's a godsend. But for those in jobs like mine, where most of my tasks can be done anywhere and at any time of day? Salary and flexible work hours would be amazing. Just get stuff done. Meet with the folks you need to meet with. Maintain communication. So there's no meetings and I would rather take Sunday/Monday as my weekend? Big deal. So I don't have meetings and I just have to update a bunch of crap on the website and answer community emails? I'll get up when I get up, get on it, and work until I'm done. And it'll be good.

I guess I'm just amazed at how far we've come with our devices and connections and fancy-schmancy things that keep us going 24/7. And I don't see why the general office workplace hasn't modified over time to use these things to its advantage, all while ensuring fitter, happier, more productive employees. It's the current, yet outdated, system that makes a worker feel like a pig in a cage. On antibiotics.

Everything has accelerated. It's accelerated to a point that we might be about to lap ourselves. What happens then? Does the universe unmake itself? Or do we realize that we have ways to stay fast, while using our modern tools to get back to a type of slowness of lifestyle we haven't seen in 50 years? Our devices should be making life easier. They're not. So what now?

More Or Less

Yep, I'm living... more or less. There are things I need less of and things I want more of and vice versa. I go through these phases where everything feels likes it has come to a halt; I'm stagnant right now. Which makes me unhappy. And then I do nothing to recharge right away, and end up sliding into a full-out self-reflective depression. No good, right? The hardest part is getting things moving again. An object at rest seems impossible to budge... but there is no other choice. No other real choice, anyway. Otherwise, all that's left is throwing in the towel, adopting some more cats, and living out the rest of my life becoming one with my couch. Literally. What do you, or in this particular case I, need to really be fulfilled, more or less?

More making, less buying.
More outside, less inside.
More books, less computer/TV.
More sit-and-reflect, less go-Go-GO!
More meaningful relationships, less superficial niceties.
More alone, less lonely.
More lovely company, less alone.
More reaching out to people I feel a connection with, less worrying that they don't care as much about me.
More kitty cuddling on the couch, less searching for something else to do.
More confident honesty, less vague insecurity.
More activity, less sedentary.
More home, less elsewhere.
More hugs, less handshakes.
More accepting, less judging.
More board games, less video games.
More thought, less act.
More traveling, less good-enough-here.
More "I will", less "I wish".
More observing, less obliviousness.
More listening, less talking.
More sleep, less late nights.
More conversation, less frustration.

More love, no hate.

Haters Gonna Hate

And creepers gonna creep. By FSM, are they gonna creep.

There's a fine line between adoration and obsession. That line has been sufficiently obliterated, and this is not only by my own observations, but by the witness of others as well (though much of the publicly visible evidence posted to my Facebook wall was recently deleted... in an effort to not look so obsessed, I guess? Who knows what the thought process involved in all this is. I'm not pretending to have any answers).

My lack of interest should have been apparent from the start as I have avoided doing or saying anything that could be misconstrued as desire for anything more than simple platonic acquaintance (since, like, December). However, it's reached a point where the best thing is probably minimal-to-no response, as the only other option is a (unnecessary from my standpoint) lengthy explanation of sorts.

But you know what? I don't have to, and will not, explain myself to anyone.

And so it goes...

It's funny how big-time sads can happen when there is a definitive end to something. Especially when it was something that never even started, really. I suppose the heartachey pangs more signify the end of the ideal and the sense of loss over the 'could have been's; not the actuality and the 'was'.

Before, I could daydream and it made sense... "Maybe next week, maybe someday"; the 'chance' was there (though it wasn't... that's beside the point... that's why it was a daydream). Now that 'chance' has flown the coop, the someday has sailed, and the daydream has died.

That's what is sad. Dreams evaporate.

But life goes on.

Cinco de Mayo

Why anyone in their right mind would want five servings of mayonnaise is beyond me. But ok, fine, make a holiday out of that shit. And I suppose I'll just follow along... I'll bring the eggs if you bring the oil! Shit, yo... I got 5 on it!* Oh, what's that? It's not our holiday? You want tequila? I'm not sure that tequila and eggs together is such a good idea...

*Yes, I know that's not the original. But I like it. So suck it. But for you haters, here's the original.

It's April!

I'm not entirely sure why I felt the need to exclaim the arrival of April; afterall, I'm a whole week late! I didn't write anything last week since I'm not one for April Fools pranks (unless it's just a really epic prank), and well, since it seems everyone wants to jump on the "Ha Gotcha!" bandwagon, I pretty much don't believe a word I hear/see on April 1. Also, writing a blog probably isn't the best use of my time at work. Honestly it's probably not the best use of my time anywhere.

Anyway. I had some crap I wanted to say but I can't remember what it is now, natch. So I guess thisun'l be nothing but some ramblings.

I'm a shitty gardener. Really just terrible! I have some dirt patches, two of which are all weeded up. I have some seeds. And I haven't done a damn thing. I'm probably just going to plant whatever and see what happens. I figure if all that other shit can grow so well, then why not something I might eat? Also, why can't you just plant that stuff right into your yard? Wouldn't grass act as a natural mulch of sorts? It's obvious I'm just trying to justify my extreme laziness, but come on... A billion weeds and such can't be wrong, right?

I got a new gig down at Terrapin. About three weeks ago, I moved up to what the bossman now calls "The Penthouse". It's really just upstairs. All the way up to the second floor! I think I'm gonna make a sign for us and make it official. They opened a new spot in the marketing department, came to me and said "You wanna?" and I said "Hell yeah!". So there we go. So I've now been a member in accounting and marketing departments at a beer factory. Two departments within an industry I had no background in, and never thought I'd be doing as a job. My 'office' only has three walls, as it was originally a reception area, but all three of those walls are covered in wood paneling. Sa-waynk-eee!! I told them I needed a moose head, maybe some macrame hangings. And a hanging fern. Moose head got nixed in favor of a jackalope. I so need a jackalope.

I am embarrassed for the city I live in when I read the online comments left after most stories in the Athens-Banner Herald. Not just because their views are generally polar opposites of mine, but also in the general delivery. There is no discussion on this 'discussion board'. Everyone just yells a lot. They state their opinions (most often very narrow-minded ones), and when some states their differing opinion a full-on attack ensues. Unless you agree with the majority, you are WRONG. Most are extremely conservative right-wingers who thinly veil their bigotry and racism under so-called patriotism, general concern for the neighborhood, and their undying Christianity. In reality they hate/are threatened by any person who is kinda brown, kinda townie, kinda poor, doesn't openly proclaim a love of Jesus, or says that they're ok with people fitting the previous descriptions. So for someone like me to try and express my view, well, the best analogy I've come up with for that is that it's like screaming into a vacuum. There's a report of a shoplifter who was caught by police in the parking lot... "Insert Baggy Pants THEM comment here". A story about how recent law changes regarding undocumented children attending college has affected teachers (most of these kids have lived here their whole lives)... "Blah blah CRIMINALS blah SHIP THEM ALL HOME blah MY TAX DOLLARS etc.". Anything about welfare or social programs... "BLEEDING HEART LIBERALS blah STUPID blah PROPAGANDA blah blah BUT DON'T YOU TOUCH MY SOCIAL SECURITY OR MEDICARE MINE MINE MINE". And then a story about a guy getting jumped at 3:00AM while looking for a friend on a street that has an apartment complex inhabited by minorities on it... "Nothing good happens after midnight." "It's his own fault for being there and out so late." "I bet he deserved it. Probably a drug deal gone wrong. Criminals, all of them."... A kid dies... "Bless that child she's with Jesus now!" "Has anyone looked into why the mother wasn't home at the time? Why did she have her boyfriend watching her kid?"... Gay rights... "Bible bible bible sin sin sin burning in hell" "IT'S GODS WORD" (someone says they don't believe in god) "You're just ignorant. GOD is TRUTH. Hope someone is praying for your wretched soul!" ... And I won't even touch the Walmart thing. Ugh. It's pretty disgusting. Hell, most of them aren't even residents of the county the ABH represents. I think it should be included in each poster's profile, the county they live in. You wanna call me names for saying I don't really want a huge development that includes a  Walmart a few blocks from my house? Oh? You live in Madison County? Go fuck yourself, your argument is invalid.

Anyway. That rant is done. I think I should do something productive now. Maybe. Or not.

CraigsLit

Athens, GA 'Missed Connections'; 3/28/12

A Connection Not Missed...

But one that will be missed from now on. 

"That's life", the saying goes, and in my head I'm still believing the romantic idea of 'a lifetime'. I have once again failed at fulfilling my end of the bargain, of keeping promises I made to myself to keep these connections active. "I'll call her next week", I think. Then Life does what it does, which ultimately means ending. Not mine, but theirs. So I sit here and contemplate, and yes, regret, my lack of reaching out. Of simply being present. Of simply making a presence known. I keep taking our relative youth for granted. But youth, or vibrancy, or a lovely soul does not stop Life from happening. And does not stop Death from ending it. When will I learn? And when will I keep my promise? 

Whether or not you think you've missed a connection, keep the ones you have going. And do know that even when your phone doesn't ring, there is always someone out there who loves you and thinks of you. I only hope those I'm connected with know this.
May you rest well, lady, and be forever surrounded by the same light you brought to so many. 

To tide you over until I post something for real later...

This. Yup. Someone did it.

CraigsLit: Valentine's Day Edition

Athens, GA: 'Missed Connections'. Tuesday, February 14, 2012. EA.

The Class Divide

Love's economy-
Today rains wealth on the 'Haves';
Does not trickle down.

CraigsLit

Athens, GA 'Missed Connections' board. Wednesday, Feb. 8 2012. EA.

Other Fish In The Sea

These dream-baited stanzas are written
To catch one with whom we are smitten.
I threw out my line
In the hopes he'd be mine,
But alas! My hook went unbitten.

Upon reflection...

I just wrote a post saying I was hoping for better things this year. And I am. But I've had a rather jolting epiphany in that not only will I have to actively pursue some of these things, rather than let stuff play out, but I may have to do it somewhere else. Or somehow else. Or somewhat differently. Something like that.

I said 2011 was pretty ok. It was. But tonight I realized it's because it was slightly better than 2010, and then nothing changed. Nothing too bad happened. But nothing too good happened either. It was a flatline year, and usually, a flatline means you're dead.

Obviously, I'm not speaking literally here. But really... What more do I have to show for myself after 2011? Nothing. I love a number of things about where I am now, but where it counts, I'm no further ahead than I was a year ago. The evening candle-light version is that last year was smooth, living was always tolerable, making it day-to-day was no biggie, and this year will be even better. The harsh noonday sun version is that I am too old and too tired of being this endlessly broke, this hopelessly alone (and often lonely), this knowingly expendable, and this socially inconsequential.

I feel like I'm slowly breaking down, like a car that gets no love from its owner. Simply put, I'm tired. I spend all day at a workplace I love, full of people I love; the best people I know, really, and in an industry in which I truly take an interest and want to learn more and think is the tits... but where I'm not all that integral. Anyone could take my place and there would be hardly a hiccup in the day-to-day. Most of my tasks are time-consuming, but fairly mindless and minimally creative, and require only a basic education... I know that's often the starting point when entering an industry without prior training, but I sometimes feel that this is as far as I'll go. And sometimes I wonder whether I actually have anything else to offer. If I don't, I have a problem, as my position isn't worth much, and I can't live much longer with just getting by. I'm only barely above water; even that's a struggle, and the shallow end of the pool is nowhere in sight.

This is about more than the job though. That's the easy metaphor. In the long run, I don't make a squat of difference there or anywhere else. I'm not doing anything there, or here, or anywhere, where I'm using any skill that isn't a skill everyone around me possesses, or that makes me needed or necessary or unique. I don't impact the life of any one person. I haven't made any sort of lasting impression on this town I've been in for 12 years. I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere. But you probably didn't notice. I hardly noticed myself.

So, then, decisions. Pros and cons. Can I ever be a whole person here, doing what I'm doing? Will I find fulfillment in more than one aspect of life? Can I climb to a stable, comfortable, secure, and relatively happy existance? Or is complacency and sticking with the place I know slowly and silently killing me?

It's the new year. Where do I go from here?

So this is the New Year, I don't feel any different.

I like that somehow there has been a universal, yet unspoken, agreement that this year we all change the format we use to say the year out loud. It was always "Nineteen-ninety whatever", and then Y2K happened. And people would say that. "Hey, it's Why Two Kay!", but that made sense since it was all hyped up and the world was supposed to end since All The Computers were gonna freak out and cause planes to drop from the sky and the nukes to be launched and Wall St. to collapse, and all the other stuff that happens in futuristic science fiction written in 1953. But nothing happened, and it was right back to saying "Two-thousand blah" for the last ten years. side note: and 'blah' they were. Ugh. My twenties. So full of ups and downs, probably more downs really, and what-the-hell-is-going-on's and what-am-I-doing-with-my-life's... Overall they were blah. And here it turns 2012, and everyone's all like, "Twenty-twelve". No memo, no presidential decree, no professional athlete endorsement, just BAM. "Twenty-twelve". New, clean, minus a syllable, sleek and modern. side note: Perhaps this is an indication of people everywhere hoping for a fresh start? A desire to live cleaner, simpler, more positively... The "two-thousand"s didn't kill us, but sometimes sure seemed they were trying to. Things can only go up in the "twenty"s, right? A modest change to promote a new outlook. Maybe people believe, subconsciously, that this is the year that "a change is gonna come"...

I guess I can say I'm one of those people. I am not one to make resolutions because, well, I know myself and in the end I'm lazy and a procrastinator and a general non-go-getter, and all of those things plus resolutions equal massive failure. That's no good for the old ego, you know? But, 2011 was pretty ok. So I would like bigger things from 2012. I feel like karma has sort of jerked me around for a while and that it should be out of reasons to screw with me since I think I'm an alright gal and not a bitch most of the time. The question is how to go about getting the things I want out of this year. Some of them require money, which sucks because I don't have any. For those I suppose I'll have to work more in planning mode, which also sucks because traditionally me and plans don't generally agree. Honestly, if I can get through most of the year without any unexpected and/or expensive items of bullshit (see UGA Vet Hospital crapola for Joe, 2011), I'll be mostly happy.

The other stuff, well I guess I just have to wait for something to happen there. The smitten is clearly a no-go. There was a false start involved, not the best way to do things but it happened and we're all adults, followed promptly by a mention of acting irresponsibly and him not being himself, and then I felt bad since this amounted to being informed I was both a bad influence and a big oopsie. Le sigh. So I sent an email (dumb, dumb, dumb) basically coming clean with the smitten while still trying to be funny and cool about it all and to say I wasn't judging or anything. No response. Not that I expected one, and even said one wasn't necessary since I already felt like a bad person and though I was trying to say something nice knew it was unsolicited and most likely not wanted information and didn't want to obligate anyone to anything... anyway. Way to go, Erin. Screwing things up since 1980.

I went to Cincinnati for Christmas. It was overall a good trip. There was the usual arguing over political differences and my father making not-funny stereotypical "jokes" and then calling me "too sensitive" when I told him he was being rude. Other than that, it was fine. I rented a car and drove up. Dad bought me a vacuum cleaner for Christmas, which is awesome. He also loaded me down with a bunch of other stuff. I went up with a suitcase, a pillow, and three cases of beer. I came back with a suitcase, a pillow, one case of beer, a vacuum, some throw rugs, a coffee maker, a George Foreman grill thing, a guitar amp, a guitar stand, a bass amp, a bass, a box of old photographs, some pots, random kitchen accessories, and 40 or so albums he's had since the 70's and 80's. The rental still averaged 38-40 mpg on the way back.

As I'm still without internet at home, I did this post on my phone. One lesson: save frequently!!