Semi-apologies for the potential depressitivity of my previous post. Been in a weird place lately, but while this morning I am again somewhat wandering the glum-lands, for the most part I've been pretty damn chipper and optimistic this past week. We will see how long that can hold out in the face of French Existentialism. Emotional resilience! Constant vigilance! Etc.!
Of course, I vowed with the start of the semester to be superEXTRAproductive this time, no really, it's seriously going to happen. Got all (most?) of my stuff organized, and then promptly spent my (long!) weekend entirely on socializing and shenanigans with excellent friends. Even better than productivity, in my opinion. Also, the most wholesome game of Twister I've ever played.
Classes are all promising, and I'm gearing up for a semester as a Supernerd. Dante! French! French Existentialism! Intensive Writing! First task: Master (or at least meet in passing?) French pronunciation. Then on to tackling my writing-stential angst. Break.
Monday, January 23, 2012
Thursday, January 12, 2012
If there's a God, he is laughing at us, and our football team
A few days from starting the new (my last!) semester, and despite the many sparkling positives, all I can seem to think is
sigh "Here we go again."
Which kind of sucks. I am at that nadir of long holidays, the last week before school starts. Boyfriend has again left town to return to his school in BFE. I should about now be simultaneously becoming bored by having no meaningful activity about and feeling guilty about not producing any meaningful activity, and therefore ready to rejoice upon being bestowed a schedule with deadlines and reading assignments and obligations. But no. Despite (or because of?) having fantastic quasi-spontaneous shenanigans with some high school friends and getting other "visitin'" done, I just feel the creepings of loneliness that the indifferent affections of my two cats cannot quite quell. Not, mind you, the kind of feeling that evokes the "oh I can't wait to see all my friend-people to whom I am only connected be school-type activities". That feeling, though admittedly present is outweighed greatly by the "oh god I have to do things" feeling that makes me just want to furl up in a tiny ball on the couch and watch mediocre sitcoms on Netflix until the Earth is flung out of orbit. So mostly it's just kind of a pathetic, paralyzing inertia that has me rooted here. Quite unfortunate, considering the last few days have been good ones and stuff has actually been getting done. But true nonetheless. Yet the non-bizarro Earth continues to spin on its axis, and so the rigors of doing things will whisk me out of my melancholy and into, well, doing things. Right?
sigh "Here we go again."
Which kind of sucks. I am at that nadir of long holidays, the last week before school starts. Boyfriend has again left town to return to his school in BFE. I should about now be simultaneously becoming bored by having no meaningful activity about and feeling guilty about not producing any meaningful activity, and therefore ready to rejoice upon being bestowed a schedule with deadlines and reading assignments and obligations. But no. Despite (or because of?) having fantastic quasi-spontaneous shenanigans with some high school friends and getting other "visitin'" done, I just feel the creepings of loneliness that the indifferent affections of my two cats cannot quite quell. Not, mind you, the kind of feeling that evokes the "oh I can't wait to see all my friend-people to whom I am only connected be school-type activities". That feeling, though admittedly present is outweighed greatly by the "oh god I have to do things" feeling that makes me just want to furl up in a tiny ball on the couch and watch mediocre sitcoms on Netflix until the Earth is flung out of orbit. So mostly it's just kind of a pathetic, paralyzing inertia that has me rooted here. Quite unfortunate, considering the last few days have been good ones and stuff has actually been getting done. But true nonetheless. Yet the non-bizarro Earth continues to spin on its axis, and so the rigors of doing things will whisk me out of my melancholy and into, well, doing things. Right?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
2012: "We Stopped."
So, Happy New Year and stuff! I can hear people still (illegally) shooting off fireworks, so I guess their party must still be going-- well, kudos to them. More partying all around! On my part, the turning of the calendar (oops, still literally have to do that to my own hard copy) was a shockingly serene and pleasant experience.
Went down to New Orleans with some friends, which on New Year's Eve (or anything remotely resembling a holiday, really) is usually a crazy party chaos-pit of an experience. And, okay, there were a lot of your typical "crazy party" things. Noise! Liquor! Lights! Absurdly tiny sparkly dresses and way-too-high heels! Beer! Liquor! Sparklers! Liquor! We toured from Uptown all the way through and around the French Quarter, a nice if exhaustive route. And as I glided (almost completely sober!) through this mess of good-natured debauchery, I had a thought that is pretty unusual for me at the most low-key of times and much more so at the present moment:
There is no anxiety. I am calm, with a firm grip on the reigns, and I am having a damn good time.
And it was true. Despite my distressingly poor ability to navigate even a simple grid of streets, the erratic temperature and baromentric conditions in the Quarter, and ragingly drunk tourists and glaring police everywhere, I was fine. I was not panicking, or even nervous. Not about getting accosted, or getting vomit on my shoes (though I was very sensible and careful to avoid both of these situations), or meeting up with the 572 other friends roaming the streets of New Orleans--even having a destination seemed pretty unimportant. This, I must emphasize, is a pretty big deal for me. Even the most mundane plans cause a rumbling of anxiety in my gut, and any kind of "adventure" tends to send it clawing its way up my spinal cord. If I don't have at the very least a written schedule of activities with accompanying time estimates and maps, things go downhill for me and my ability to enjoy the evening very quickly. So aimlessly wandering with my Boy and two friends alongside packs of feral party-goers through the belly of New Orleans without worry? Kind of a big deal. Starting 2012 off right. And hey, it's the last New Year's, so why not?
In the end, we got to our destination and beyond, and then back to the car and subsequent sleeping arrangements without any sort of injury or major expenditure (besides some serious walking time). Pretty damn good. Woke up this morning (um, afternoon), grabbed coffee from my new favorite cafe Uptown, Z'otz, then headed over to my lovely friend Mandi's house for some tasty New Year Gumbo. And still made it back in time for Boyfriend to get to work. New Year Success!
Resolution: Er, be better, I suppose. I bought a pack of foil stars, and am going to mark my calendar with them when I do "good things" -- exercise, make art/writing, do food things that are tasty cheap AND healthy. We shall see!
And lastly (and randomly): I don't know if I'll ever get married. Hell, I don't know if I even want to get married. And I know the following conflicts with my compulsive anxiety as described above. But if I do get married, I can only hope that the wedding will be as amazing as Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer's was. Yes, I teared up a bit. Totally worth it.
Went down to New Orleans with some friends, which on New Year's Eve (or anything remotely resembling a holiday, really) is usually a crazy party chaos-pit of an experience. And, okay, there were a lot of your typical "crazy party" things. Noise! Liquor! Lights! Absurdly tiny sparkly dresses and way-too-high heels! Beer! Liquor! Sparklers! Liquor! We toured from Uptown all the way through and around the French Quarter, a nice if exhaustive route. And as I glided (almost completely sober!) through this mess of good-natured debauchery, I had a thought that is pretty unusual for me at the most low-key of times and much more so at the present moment:
There is no anxiety. I am calm, with a firm grip on the reigns, and I am having a damn good time.
And it was true. Despite my distressingly poor ability to navigate even a simple grid of streets, the erratic temperature and baromentric conditions in the Quarter, and ragingly drunk tourists and glaring police everywhere, I was fine. I was not panicking, or even nervous. Not about getting accosted, or getting vomit on my shoes (though I was very sensible and careful to avoid both of these situations), or meeting up with the 572 other friends roaming the streets of New Orleans--even having a destination seemed pretty unimportant. This, I must emphasize, is a pretty big deal for me. Even the most mundane plans cause a rumbling of anxiety in my gut, and any kind of "adventure" tends to send it clawing its way up my spinal cord. If I don't have at the very least a written schedule of activities with accompanying time estimates and maps, things go downhill for me and my ability to enjoy the evening very quickly. So aimlessly wandering with my Boy and two friends alongside packs of feral party-goers through the belly of New Orleans without worry? Kind of a big deal. Starting 2012 off right. And hey, it's the last New Year's, so why not?
In the end, we got to our destination and beyond, and then back to the car and subsequent sleeping arrangements without any sort of injury or major expenditure (besides some serious walking time). Pretty damn good. Woke up this morning (um, afternoon), grabbed coffee from my new favorite cafe Uptown, Z'otz, then headed over to my lovely friend Mandi's house for some tasty New Year Gumbo. And still made it back in time for Boyfriend to get to work. New Year Success!
Resolution: Er, be better, I suppose. I bought a pack of foil stars, and am going to mark my calendar with them when I do "good things" -- exercise, make art/writing, do food things that are tasty cheap AND healthy. We shall see!
And lastly (and randomly): I don't know if I'll ever get married. Hell, I don't know if I even want to get married. And I know the following conflicts with my compulsive anxiety as described above. But if I do get married, I can only hope that the wedding will be as amazing as Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer's was. Yes, I teared up a bit. Totally worth it.
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