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!!

"I don't wanna sound like a queer or nothin', but I think Depeche Mode's a sweet band!"

Holy hell. Writing these out on a smartphone is a monstrous pain in the ass. Not only is it way too time-consuming, but the predictive-text/auto correct/whatever on an Android phone obviously does not 'learn' what words you type frequently. I know this because it keeps changing 'yeah' to 'Utah'. I have never been to Utah, nor do I ever have occasion to write about it as 3.2 beer and temple-approved undergarments aren't interests of mine. But you know what is? Cursing. And this phone makes that hard, too. I think it's trying to ben-hur me... Uh... That should say censor. And I honest-to-god did not do that on purpose, but had to leave it rather than edit it because that's exactly what I'm talking about. Seriously? Ben-hur? When have I ever typed that? So duck this piece of shirt phone.

I made some plans over the last couple weeks that fell through today. Not really a big deal, but something I was kinda excited about since it seemed I'd done good. Oh well. It'll work out, just won't be quite as neat.

Know what's lame? This. And me. And... What kinda cruel joke is the head/FSM playing when you find yourself absolutely, retardedly, and embarrassingly smitten with someone who seemingly has zero interest in you? And when you don't even know why they're so great in your mind in the first place? Total bunk, I say. What's the point of the whole 'chemistry' thing if it's nothing but a boy-who-cried-wolf for one person and a source of entertainment for the other? Really. Here's this thing that suddenly makes you forget your words and say dumb shit, if anything at all because by god, you can find something witty to say EVERY OTHER FREAKING TIME but not when they show up, and makes you feel like a bumbling idiot when you try to be cool and maybe show just enough interest to not be weird or over-do it but to try to get to know them better, but yeah, that backfires and all they see is the bumbling idiot. And just coming clean is most likely a bad idea anyway, for the obvious reason in that I don't see a mutual interest, but also because I can't exactly avoid them should it end up being a painfully awkward exchange and I don't like spending a portion of each day wishing I could dig a hole and hide out for a while. It's just dumb. That's all. Also, I'm not one to often come down with cases of the smittens. I just don't. Since it does happen so infrequently, I would prefer they happen when there's a chance. I don't wanna be wasting my limited supply of smittens on folks who don't want any. They're like Thin Mints. Yeah, you know they come out once a year, and you can even stock up. But you never get enough. So when you happen on that random box at the back of the cabinet, it's like gold. You keep most to yourself, but if any do leave your hands, you're damn sure to give them to people who appreciate it. And who will return the favor with their box of Tag-a-longs.

My cat Joe has developed an insatiable taste for potato chips. If he hears anything remotely similar to a chip bag, he materializes from wherever he was sleeping and will not get out of my face until I let him see what it is. He used to be this way about ice cream and chocolate milk, too, which is a little strange since cats can't taste sweet.

I missed the Christmas parade again this year. Oh well. I have no need to see it ever again, really, because nothing, nowhere, nohow, could ever top the Rotisserie Jesus float from a few years back. Nothing. Except perhaps a live depiction of the birth of Jesus, placenta and all.