I watched the documentary about Charles and Ray Eames on Netflix.
I didn't do the dishes.
I got a full night's sleep.
I ate granola for breakfast.
I read about Anne Hathaway and Sheila Heti on Wikipedia.
I did the dishes.
I balanced my checkbook and paid my credit card.
I ate apple pie.
I walked to the restaurant and checked my schedule on the way to the office.
I took a trip to Probate Court.
I sorted the weekend's mail.
I typed a memorandum.
I went back to Probate Court.
I chatted with Jeff for a while.
I entered the revisions for a purchase agreement.
I walked home and talked to Ali on the phone.
I ate a turkey and gravy sandwich.
I read about the Icelandic economy and its recovery.
I looked at apartments on Craigslist using the handy new map feature.
I didn't go to yoga.
I read about the future of diaries/journaling.
I read about Sherlock Holmes enthusiasts in Switzerland.
I read about Scientology.
I read about the classical music industry.
I read a lot of things today.
I downloaded Skype so my brother could send me music.
What about you?
Old Story, Getting Older All the Time
One of my best friends is married. Lots of people are on their last year of grad school, or done already. On their second or third post-college experiences. They have jobs. Some of them have jobs that they want, or jobs that might get them the jobs that they want. Others, like me, have the jobs that they have. I have two jobs. I recently dropped one and picked up a better one; I keep reminding myself that this is proof that I am in control of my life. But I do not have a plan. I do not have an inkling of a plan. There were reasons I chose the things I did. I picked a school, then I picked some classes, then I picked a major, and within four years, I brought it all to an officially successful end. But somewhere between freshman orientation and college graduation, the dots stopped connecting.
Welcome to November
(A: The darkening of days that means the holidays approach, whatever produce is still showing up at the farmers' market, being a scapegoat for your actually un-seasonal unhappiness.)
I do savor the moments like that one, heading home in the afternoon, looking up after I cross the busy street and realizing everything is gold. I also feel the cold and dark threatening to shorten my days, which already feel short from work and inaction and being too into being asleep when I was previously asleep.
I think that the plan is not to try to paint a beautiful life on this blog, not right now. I think my boyfriend and maybe most people, if they ever hear it, are sick of the November shtick. But here in this blog, let's all agree (that's me, agreeing with me) that November can be really hard. But so can October. So can September, and August, and July. I've been taking baby steps, and they don't really go anywhere, but I'm going to try harder to get on track. November, life kind of sucks, but I'm also not giving in.
So, a plan for Friday.
Alarm goes off, leap from the bed and into the steamy hot shower.
Get dressed. Eat. Spend a quiet, calm, thoughtful morning with myself. Pack bag. Eat lunch. Go to work (don't be late). Eat dinner. Go to work. Go to bed.
A plan for Thursday 11:59pm: go to bed!
I Want
a loaf of bread
2-5 apples (get me through the weekend or the week)
new red lipstick (lost mine)
a borrowed iron
the will to hem my curtains (hinges on iron)
donuts and cider
$20 to get through the week
That's all I want this weekend, at least that's tangible/measurable (if the curtains are hemmed, the will was there).
Paying back student loans, it turns out, saps all your extra money. No paid sick or vacation days kills the possibility for extra money. Life, friends, is boring!
2-5 apples (get me through the weekend or the week)
new red lipstick (lost mine)
a borrowed iron
the will to hem my curtains (hinges on iron)
donuts and cider
$20 to get through the week
That's all I want this weekend, at least that's tangible/measurable (if the curtains are hemmed, the will was there).
Paying back student loans, it turns out, saps all your extra money. No paid sick or vacation days kills the possibility for extra money. Life, friends, is boring!
My brother's baking bread today, so hopefully by tomorrow I'll have some. Free, and so delicious.
I'm going to the cider mill tomorrow, even though the money was spent yesterday on mulled wine at the new beer garden and Strongbow and cheddar ale soup and ravioli, split with Emma. A beautiful evening followed by a lovely date with cocktails and pizza and a tasty s'more.
As for lipstick – red lip gloss forever, I guess. It's been running out for a year, but never actually does.
Identity Crisis
I hate blogs.
That's not true. I hate my blog.
I hate my blog because it's inconsistent. It's been around for over four years. Most of the early posts are pretty bad, though they served their purpose, which was keeping in touch with friends while I was abroad. More of the later posts are acceptable, but many of them are months apart, and there are still crappy ones. Just write something, I told myself. Get it going again. Occasional bad posts are okay when they're hidden by a flood of content. They're not so acceptable when, like this one, they are one lonely dot on a sparse timeline.
I hate my blog. That's not true. I'm just frustrated. It's been so long, and for what?
Maybe it's time to start a new one. Almost three years ago, I was thinking about renaming the blog, since I was no longer an occasionally-itinerant Landstreicherin in Europa. Then again, I only had a few months of college left, so I would be moving somewhere, maybe even traveling again. Back then, I was applying to teach English in Austria through the Fulbright Kommission, but that didn't work out so well, leaving me without a plan at graduation. (My application got lost in the mail.)
I moved to Grosse Pointe, and was not a tramp, but an outright, sedentary bum. Not a cent of income for four months.
Okay, not a bum. I went to Ann Arbor every weekend to see my boyfriend, and then I moved to Ann Arbor and got my surprisingly long-term restaurant job and commuted to Detroit every other weekend and then some.
But now, it's two years from then, and I haven't even moved in over a year, and my blog is pretty much dead.
That's not true. I hate my blog.
I hate my blog because it's inconsistent. It's been around for over four years. Most of the early posts are pretty bad, though they served their purpose, which was keeping in touch with friends while I was abroad. More of the later posts are acceptable, but many of them are months apart, and there are still crappy ones. Just write something, I told myself. Get it going again. Occasional bad posts are okay when they're hidden by a flood of content. They're not so acceptable when, like this one, they are one lonely dot on a sparse timeline.
I hate my blog. That's not true. I'm just frustrated. It's been so long, and for what?
Maybe it's time to start a new one. Almost three years ago, I was thinking about renaming the blog, since I was no longer an occasionally-itinerant Landstreicherin in Europa. Then again, I only had a few months of college left, so I would be moving somewhere, maybe even traveling again. Back then, I was applying to teach English in Austria through the Fulbright Kommission, but that didn't work out so well, leaving me without a plan at graduation. (My application got lost in the mail.)
I moved to Grosse Pointe, and was not a tramp, but an outright, sedentary bum. Not a cent of income for four months.
Okay, not a bum. I went to Ann Arbor every weekend to see my boyfriend, and then I moved to Ann Arbor and got my surprisingly long-term restaurant job and commuted to Detroit every other weekend and then some.
But now, it's two years from then, and I haven't even moved in over a year, and my blog is pretty much dead.
Thought of the Day: Internet/Sauna
Thought of the Day:
I am incompatible with the internet* life.
Oh no, I'm incompatible with modern life!
I'm doomed!
Motivation:
Can't ever seem to finish the tasks requiring the internet, because there are always more. More importantly: lost count of how many days in a row I've had a headache. I had the same headache for over three days. By now, I don't think I can claim it's the same headache (day five? day six?), but I'm writing this from hour 4 of ibuprofen. Maybe by hours 6-8, as the ibuprofen wears off fully, I'll feel that same dull agony and recognize that it never truly dissipated.
More computer never equals less headache.
Alternate Thought of the Day:
I love saunas! Even though it's been 90 degrees out forever!
*Why is this still officially capitalized? Please explain.
I am incompatible with the internet* life.
Oh no, I'm incompatible with modern life!
I'm doomed!
Motivation:
Can't ever seem to finish the tasks requiring the internet, because there are always more. More importantly: lost count of how many days in a row I've had a headache. I had the same headache for over three days. By now, I don't think I can claim it's the same headache (day five? day six?), but I'm writing this from hour 4 of ibuprofen. Maybe by hours 6-8, as the ibuprofen wears off fully, I'll feel that same dull agony and recognize that it never truly dissipated.
More computer never equals less headache.
Alternate Thought of the Day:
I love saunas! Even though it's been 90 degrees out forever!
*Why is this still officially capitalized? Please explain.
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