epiph-ionic spree

the teeny tiny readership of this blog all know that i've been working my balls off for the past 9+ months so i could quit mortgage forever and go to la for school.  i've been going to school full-time and working 50+ hour weeks at work all while living on 1 paycheck a month and putting the other paycheck away in the bank.  it was going to work out beautifully: i put in notice at my job on 3/1, last day is 3/15 (the same day the quarter ends), i leave for la on 3/21, registration is on 3/23 and classes start - synchronously - on my birthday.  talk about a way to kick off a year, right?  32 was going to be the best, most kick-ass year ever for me.  for once, it was a birthday i was REALLY looking forward to. 
turns out, that's not meant to be.  due to a lot of boring details i'm ending up short on money to go.  i have enough saved for living expenses but not tuition on top of it (funny how those 2 amounts are so similar), so i COULD still go, but i would have to live on the street.  while i would probably be queen whitey (or ice cream queen, whatever) in the homeless village downtown on 6th, i don't know that i'd be in the right frame of mind to get the learning done that i need to get done.  i did a lot of running around this past weekend to make sure there weren't any other viable options.

that said, i was, understandably, frustrated, disappointed and very, very sad when i got back.  i was so numb to it that it took a good day and a half to sink in.  i talked with a few people about it and started getting really sad and then very pissed off about it.  so pissed off that i've been mentally blowing the wad of cash i saved up for this trek.  it started last night when i said to myself, "fuck it!  if i can't do the big thing i want to do, i'm gonna buy myself that $20 bottle of shampoo because i like how it smells and it makes my hair awesome."  and i did.  that mentality stayed put through the train and bus ride to work this morning and it looked kind of like this:

what i CAN'T do:
 - put a down payment on a sexy tesla electric car
 - go to la for school during the spring and summer quarters

what i CAN do:
 - shell out for a fairly fancy trip to this year's sxsw and even get a BADGE if i wanted.  and still have enough left over for an ipad.
 - buy outright a new-to-me car
 - buy 1000 shots of whiskey at my corner bar.  and still have enough left over for an ipad.  that i wouldn't be able to use because i'd be dead due to alcohol poisoning.
 - buy outright a house in memphis
 - buy outright two homes in memphis (i didn't say they were nice houses)
 - give myself a "what not to wear"-esque shopping spree
 - find some boy hookers and lots of blow
 - stalk david wenham

then my CAN list started to get less fanciful.  when that happened, i had to re-ask myself why it was i thought i had to wait a whole year to go back to la to try this again because I FORGOT.  i couldn't come up with a good answer, so i'm thinking it was just self-punishment for not being ready when i thought i should be ready.  then i thought to myself, "self, if you take the next 2 quarters off of school, you could TOTALLY go to la in the fall and you might even be better off."  i could get myself an ipad.  i could get a fancy phone when my contract is up in july.  i could slowly build my wardrobe up to where i want it to be.  i could start taking care of myself.  i could do all these things i'd been denying myself for a long time.  a very long time.
if i wait until fall, i will probably have more of my tuition covered by student loans too because i was AWESOME and completed my fafsa on the first day it was available this year.

so, this weekend i'm going to set a goal of what i want and where i want to be financially by the time i leave for la.  and then i'm going to work backwards from then to now to figure out what i need to save up per month.  i don't think it's going to be a whole paycheck which will leave me money to do things for myself like, starting to go to hot yoga again (to shoot for 5 days a week), buying a few pieces of clothing every month rather than a spree, getting myself an ipad, read for fun instead of school, get myself pedicures, go to shows again, etc.

when i came to this realization, it was like a weight lifted.  i was a totally different person at work (i don't expect that to last too long).  i felt light and awesome all day.

and to celebrate, i took my first steps today: notifying la school that i was going to attend in the fall, modifying the financial aid a little bit, and moving $500 from the school fund to the "let's spend some money!" account and promptly bought myself 5 rollers of my good smellin' smell stuff from nordstroms since it's discontinued and they're the only ones that still have any left.  it felt good not to freak out about spending $130 on knowing that i'll smell how i want to smell for the next 12 years.

cheese and rice, i'm hanging on by the tiniest fraying thread right now.  scratch that.  i don't even feel like i'm hanging on by that thread.  i work at a thankless job that sucks all my energy from me, affecting the things that i want to do.  i'm behind in my classes and feel like i'm never going to catch up.  i feel like i would burst into tears immediately if someone were to touch me right now but the thing i want the most right now is a big huge tight actual physical hug.  it's so hard to do this alone.  it's so hard to do this alone.  it's so hard to do this alone.  it's so hard to do this alone.  it's so hard to do this alone.
any of the things i need right now seem impossible:  i need to not have to go into work at all next week.  i need my paper to come together.  i need a hug.  i need a viable, actual living situation for la.  i need a massage.  i need to take care of myself.  i need extra hours in the day where i'm not sleeping or at work or on the bus.  i need to collapse.  i need someone to pick me up when i do. 

fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.

i feel compelled to add this post-script:  while the above is very valid and true for me a vast majority of the time, it's really coming to the forefront now because i'm due to start bleeding out my kooze in the next day or so.  hopefully this will pass with the crimson tide.  if not, i might check myself into a purple house.

how to?

i've finally found that i'm not the only one who has run into this problem, so i've decided to pose this conundrum to you, my meager (understatement) readership:

say you're bold and you tell someone that you like them "like that" (yes, i'm still in seventh grade) and they don't return the feeling.  say you have come across this before and you have become (possibly too) adept at acknowledging and redirecting these feelings so that you don't have them anymore, but you still appreciate the person and are interested in continuing to build the friendship (because, to be honest, you wouldn't have liked them "like that" if there wasn't something there to like to begin with).
how does one let the other know that said feeling is quelled so that whatever potentially awkward feeling harbored by the previously affected party is diminished so you can get back to being "normal" (whatever your definition of that might be) and continue to be friends?  can that be done?  has that initial act turned incurably from bold to impetuous?

upon reflection, i've found that i've been in this situation more than once (heh) and, previous to now, have always let the friendship go, losing out on some potential radness in the buddy department, i'm sure of it and i would rather that it didn't happen again.  yes, one solution could be to cure my own rashness, but that's just not me - my magic would quickly dwindle if i did that, so i'm reaching out for another option.  i'm shameless and not easily embarrassed, so if it requires prostration, i'd be ok with that.

i'd be sad, but would deal with it, if there were no solution.

bootstrapping

or: the notes i took while reading "moneyball" as influenced by an absurd love of baseball, a bottle of wine, 2 boxes of crackers, edamame hummus and a smores ice cream sammich...

- how many times do the top 200 songs mention the word: love, money, girl/woman, blue, heart. you vs. i - average
- how many of these songs are in: C, G, E, etc. - average
- how many are sung by women vs. men
- how many are written by women vs. men
- how many are performed by men vs. women
- age of performers
- song length - radio edits?
- how many are one writer vs. a collaboration
- average song length
- how many songs are performed by those who didn't write it => warts
- what's the difference in the $$ made between songs performed by the songwriter vs. the song performed by another artist who didn't write the song
- what single is the hit for the artist? 1st, 2nd, 3rd?
- on what album is the hit? 1st, 2nd, 3rd?
- if there are multiple hits, how long and what happened in their lives between "hits"? marriage, kids, deaths, religion, losing religion?
- "harvard" is an idea/concept that people NOT from boston or the north east have regarding intelligence and/or success of which harvard reaps the financial and marketing benefits - how many students who attend harvard are actually from boston or the north east?
- trader joe's edamame hummus = explosively fantastic
- make a word cloud for lyrics in top songs
- **shrinks are on the field** people who are inherent counselors in the intrinsic parts of the process
- potential!! potential is what to see
- personality is necessary for performance
- moyers is my baseball boyfriend - he distorted the perception of the hitters => artists need to distort the perception of the listeners
- keep doing as you did before success - why should you change what works?
- when they KNOW they always hit the spot, when they HOPE they never do
- should i learn to play an instrument so i can use that and my physical stature to intimidate?
- buy "moneyball" for future reference
criteria for research:
- artist has been in the industry for a certain amount of time - 5 years?
- "in industry" begins with first recorded song = intent
- performer (whether songwriter as well or not) - plays instrument as well?
- is the songwriter also the performer?

snippets i tagged in the book:
- "since we're outsiders, since the players are going to put up walls to keep us out here, let us use our position as outsiders to what advantage we can."
- hypothesis about literature: if you write well enough about a single subject, even a subject as seemingly trivial as baseball statistics, you needn't write about anything else
- life with no money is filled with embarrassing little trade-offs
- the oakland a's are baseball's answer to the island of misfit toys
- he was one of those people whose personality was inextricable from his performance. no: whose personality was NECESSARY for his performance. the funny thing is that pro baseball took one look at that personality and decided it needed to be beaten out of him
- shopping spree rules:
1. no matter how successful you are, change is always good. there can never be a status quo. when you have no money you can't afford long-term solutions, only short-term ones. you have to always be upgrading [innovating]. otherwise you're fucked.
2. the day you say you have to do something, you're screwed. because you are going to make a bad deal. you can always recover from the player you didn't sign. you may never recover from the player you signed at the wrong price.
3. know exactly what every player in baseball [in our chosen field] is worth to you. you can put a dollar figure on it.
4. know exactly who you want and go after him. [never mind who they say they want to trade.]
5. every deal you do will be publicly scrutinized by subjective opinion... to do this well, you have to ignore the newspapers.

lover

you make me feel so clean.
inside
and
out

your flavor dances troika
as feverishly on my tongue
as in my nose -
so distinct, so...
you.

the ways you nourish me
are countless:
vitamins
nutrients
antioxidants
for my body
and
soul
in the deliciousness
of your skin
your heart.

my muse
i sit here
writing this missive
eating of your fruit,
as i should be dedicating this
inspiration
to other
more funereal endeavors.
but my heart
cannot continue
until my love
is shouted
from the
socialnetworktops.

je t'aime
ma (not so) petite chou

an ode to cabbage

waxing portlandy

tonight i went out to drink for a few reasons:
1. it's my last weekend as a free woman for the next 12 weeks
2. i was hoping to get an eyeful (maybe a lipful) of cute-as-pie bartender andy meat
3. today i was yearning for some "standardness" and, for some reason, drinking on a friday night = "standard"
4. the non-"standard" part of me felt like observing

and this is the conclusion that the non-"standard" part of me (98% of me, it feels like) came to:

portland, for all the people who told me i'd love it here, is just like everywhere else. except with beards. and a lot of rain. and a lot of preciousness. and lots of "birds on things". for real.
granted, they do have an INCREDIBLE book store (now chain in the most "portlandy" of ways) and lots of fun things, but those things are fun for people who don't have a day job as everything here rolls up at about 7pm.
what, i'm assuming, all these people didn't realize is, what draws me to a new city is the people there, not everything else that's going on. and, unfortunately, the people here are the same as anywhere else. only with beards. even the ladies have beards. i just saw one today.
i'd even go so far as to say that portland might just be the capital of apathy: where the royal "they" go to gauge the apathy of the rest of the country when it comes to certain ideas. they're at the cutting edge of apathy here. the ideas or causes that it's cool to be associated with or help out with without even the slightest knowledge of a deeper meaning for the cause or idea start here or, even if they don't START here, they develop here and, when it comes down to it, the voting constitutencies in most urban areas in this country have pockets (or whole holes) of preciousness that aspire to portlandyness without even realizing it.
so the royal "they" who come here to gauge apathy are SMART AS FUCK.
i realized this as i sat in my dive bar with my $5 jameson and art on the walls and $1 ice cream sammiches and a pinball machine where a table of 4 dudes (2 married, 3 with beards) and 1 girl talked about their european adventures and all 4 dudes were trying to impress the 1 girl with their tales of the most despondent part of europe. trying to impress with their cultural prowess.

i don't really mind portland at all. i know i could be somewhere SO MUCH worse and the weather i could do without but, it's serving it's purpose for me right now and i am confident that it will continue to do so but i refuse to perpetuate the myth that it's some crazy retired youngster's holyland.

retired young people: here in portland it's just like everywhere else. if you REALLY want to be different, form a commune in some out-of-the-way place and let that be hipster heaven, because here, it's just a petri dish for the powers that be.

drunkenly yours,

p

thoughts

i was blessed with strategically placed walls this evening.

how dumb am i? really?

i hate that something makes me not as excited as i once was.

if i turn it off, will i be able to turn it back on? that's what i'm scared of: it is very easy to turn it off, but much harder to turn it on.

i want to turn it off very badly. keeping it on "just in case" and knowing the reality, that hurts.

if i could turn it off and not care about turning it back on, i could be a stripper and make lots of money so i wouldn't have to work in mortgage anymore. that woudld be rad... right?

how is it that 3 double shots of jameson for $20 temporarily cures my own dumbness? me being dumb to me?

how many more times am i going to be dumb in this vein? it is stupid. and it costs $20 for a temporary cure. that, in itself, is dumb.

how is it that i have overcome my dumbness to KNOW that precisely 3 double jamesons are the temporary cure for my overall dumbness?
i dazzled myself with my brilliance on that one.

i would very much like to stop being dumb.

i would very much like to stop being someone's, anyone's, secret. or their trash.

i want to hold someone's hand - besides my own - in public.

L.A.M.E.

where i totally talk about poo

i have seriously been holding this (but not that) in for the past month, but i'm still so amazed by it that i have to say something!

last month i read this STUPID (read: awesomely informative) book and i stopped eating meat. i'm not stringent about it (if i'm eating vegetable soup and i find out there's a chicken broth base, i don't purge for 3 days and cry about the "thing with a face" that i ate the juice of) and i refuse to call myself one of those "v" words because if i do, i won't want to do it anymore. i'm not eating eggs either and i'm minimizing the dairy, but haven't (and probably won't) eliminated it.
yes, i feel awesome. yes, i'm experimenting with food. yes, i'm going to get skinnypants, but not that skinny because that's just not how my body is set-up. no, i still can't get to sleep in my own bed at night. yes, i'm eating a shit-ton of beets.

but the most amazing thing to me is the sheer volume of poo that is coming out of me on a daily basis! i thought that it would let up after about a week or so - i'm not eating more food or anything, just different food. and i'm freakin' pooing ALL. THE. TIME. and not a little, but LOTS. i'm sure my body is detoxing a little and whatnot, but this is getting hilariously ridiculous. as someone who has juice fasted a few times before and had to help that elimination along and see what that looks like, i'm flabbergasted by all of this.

will i ever stop pooing in this volume?! crazy!

ps - POO!

flashback: los angeles

word of mouth parade - gus
almost everything about the day i first heard this album was exceptional. i've been thinking about that day, the minutae of that day, all week since the itunes just couldn't stop playing tracks off the album.

this album is 100% la to me and always will be. even the manner in which i procured it was "la":
eleven years ago, i walked into this scene from a movie: the sketchy apartment - dark. mid-afternoon sunlight fighting it's way through miniblinds giving the room that burnt orange look. a shaggy dude wearing sunglasses and an accent - the producer - was sitting on a shaggy couch with a twitchy friend who came in from the kitchen. tim, being the overexcited puppy he was, started talking a mile a mintue as soon as the door opened. i saw the eyes behind the shades rolling.
tim never knew how to gauge a room - i hope he's learned by now.
i wasn't introduced so i don't remember the guy's name. while tim is babbling away, shaggy, dubious producer sees me inspecting this cd on the coffee table with just the word "gus" written in sharpie on it and nods to me to take it. then he does what he can to get this poncey little shit out of his apartment, tout suite baby.
i immediately popped that cd into the player in the truck and this album is what came out.

i still haven't stopped listening to it.

unfortunately, tim got the original score in the breakup proceedings. wah wah.

a few observations:

1. the IT guy here is magical. he just sent me 200GB of music that's stored on the server. there's so much... everything! on there... stuff i wouldn't get myself but would gladly be given (INXS? Ah-Ha? LAMB OF GOD??! yes please!) i like it when geeky dudes like me.

2. what is so fuckin' special about couches? why can i ALWAYS get to sleep on a couch? i don't understand it. so, for the next three sunday and monday nights, i will be sleeping on the couch.

3. there is seriously nothing like small asian hands massaging your hands and feet. my feet have been missing pedicures for the past few months and now they're all pretty! why do i feel so girly when i've gotten a pedicure. the pedicure, manicure, eyebrow wax combo for $50 (including tip) is MORE than worth it in so many ways.

4. i've been having headaches for the past week and everything tastes like pennies. that's not right, right? it's totally a TOOMAH, right?

dear mamas and daddies:

i know there are a lot of you out there. this is just a reminder that your grown-up problems aren't shit compared to the responsibility that you have to your babies. please bring the rememberance to the front of your mind that the babies don't have the vocabulary to tell you when something is really wrong or bad - they don't know that the word "innocence" or "spirit" is what describes their special magic or how to tell you that someone or something is trying to take it away, so they act out. they scream that different scream for you (the scream you hope to never hear) to protect their magic because that is YOUR ONLY JOB and they make themselves physically sick so they can leave the place they know is bad, so please please listen to them.
so if your babies are being assholes when they usually aren't, THERE IS TOTALLY A REASON.

i know it's random and i know you all know this already, but i needed to get that out.

well, DUH!

today i had a meeting with my advisor for my big girl school. he basically said, "you can have you bachelors by december 2012 EASY. you're awesome and on top of it." to which i answered "DUH! i don't have the time to NOT be on top of it."
he really liked that response.

AND i found out that i'm essentially going to be writing the same paper for the next 2-4 years starting this fall: 1st quarter - outline; 2nd quarter - 25 page "primer"; 3rd and 4th quarters - 50 page senior paper/graduate school application; quarters 6 + - 75-100 page master's thesis.
i think i'm gonna have to bone a writer to get that much writing mojo in me.

finally, the only bummer about the morning was financial aid. i qualify for $4146/term. my tuition ALONE is $4908/term and that's only if i do the bare minimum of 12 units (which is SO not going to happen) and that's not inclusive of books or supplies or LIVING or anything, so i have to pray to the credit gods that someone will give me a private loan for the rest of the bits. i don't want ALL of my living expenses paid for, i fully intend to be employed... part-time... but part-time ain't gonna pay for me to live and buy textbooks and pay the deficit in my tuition. financial aid blows. anyone have a part-time job where i can NET at least $1500/mo? because that's what i need to live.
those credit gods are aholes. they don't even take a bj for collateral anymore these days! GAH!

eff you portland!

E.P.I.C. weather fail brah. you couldn't even be summery for 10 days before you had to go all cold and rainy again.

are you for serious?! i'm ready to roshambo your ass.

gosh, i hate your face sometimes.

bsg, i bid you adieu

you were... good enough. EJO is officially the #2 badassedest dad on tv, with jack from alias (victor garber) being #1. you did good, it's going to be VERY difficult to match and exceed the daddy badassery of jack.
admittedly, i got a litle bored after sam became a head case and went all baldy so he could become a hybrid. i totally saw that coming, by the way. and that was around the time that they just kind of stopped writing for chief too, so, yeah, i got a little disinterested. and that's also the time when they started giving EJO's kidlet a little more plot line and he kind of looks like a blank slate to me - bodie. what kind of name is BODIE? but good on him for knowing someone who can pull strings.
i do like that "all along the watchtower" was actually written 155,000 years ago as coordinates, but it makes me wonder, bob dylan: cylon? lord of kobol? why'd he get to write it this much later? THAT would have been an awesome transition to present day.
i also like that they weren't afraid to show old people making out and having sex. AND old cancer-y people having sex. that stuff's not pretty and tv pretty much avoids that because it's not pretty. kudos to you!
finally, i admit i was happily surprised to find out about ellen. if she hadn't been what she was, i would have questioned her whole existence in the series because, before then, she was nothing but a pointless asshole.

so, bsg, i'm done with you and i bid you a fond farewell. so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good night!

dear bsg season 2:

i would like to thank you for a few things:

1. thank you THANK YOU for providing some legit eye-candy for the ladies in anders. he's not PERFECT and he's pretty jerry o'connell-looking but he distracts me from what has to be one totally gay, now commander, adama whom i've never found to be that attractive.

2. thank you for keeping the chief around. i love him lots. like a big cuddly bear brother. AW CHIEF!

3. thank you for bringing al from "quantum leap" (dean stockwell) in as, not only the most bitchin' preacher ever, but also a cylon. i think i have 7 of 12 models counted now.

4. xena is a cylon?! what? you just made a whole lot of lesbians very happy.

5. thank you for making me VERY excited about the impending "cowboys vs. aliens". i don't know why i'm so excited about seeing it now, but i am.

6. EJO should not try to work the 'stache. it makes him look like a mix between col. sanders and a vato. although, he prolly is and he would rock that too.

7. gaeta is gay data from stat trek: the next generation, right?

8. every episode, i want to punch baltar in the nuts. EVERY. EPISODE. he's such a whiny little bitch.

9. again, thank you for anders.

kisses!

p

theory

i've just finished episode 11 of season 1 of battlestar galactica and here is my theory on the cylon's plan:

they're helping the peeps get to kobol so they can show the cylons (unintentionally) how to get to earth so the can take over earth too. cylon boomer and helo (RAWR!!) on caprica are meant to propagate a species of human/cylon while the cylons deplete earth so they'll have somewhere to go back to. and they just bounce back and forth between the two whenever one is depleted.

can cylons even have babies? i don't know yet.

ok. geek talk done.

sorry!

your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day.

please turn off your phone and e-mail for the rest of the day.

this means you. and you too.

***

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ERROR. your level of D.U.M.B. has been exceeded for the day. ERROR.

dear sangria...

this week... this week about killed me. and it wasn't even school. that was the EASY part! it was the idiots i work for. i'm fairly certain that the fates realize that i'm on my final lap there - what? only two and a half months left? - and they're going to make that time absolute hell. today i realized i would have actually accepted hard drugs if they had been offered to me. if i knew where to score some heroin, i would have spent every last dime i had to get some because i just want to be a limp doll. that's how my brain and my psyche and my everything feels. not that i know from first-hand experience that limp doll is the result of getting high on heroin, that's just what the movies tell me.

instead, i choose sangria. because i know where to get that fix. i do not regret spending all of my food money for next week on your supplies sangria, i know you're worth it.
you just keep on chillin', marinating and getting generally awesome in my fridge...

sangria, i have a question for you: can your favorite hug, imagined hard enough, actually take the place of the real thing and squeeze all the shit from the week out of you?
i think that happened just a tiny bit today when i was walking home from the train.
tiny bit of imagined hug, tiny bit of shit gone.

i'm so exhausted sangria. the truly incoherent prattling in this post should show you that. please just let me be blissed out in your awesome this weekend.

uhngha bungha,

captain cave(woah!)man.

things i'm happy and excited to worry about:

1. going back to the nervous breakdown after a two week hiatus because i don't think i'll ever be able to catch up with all the reading i've missed. is there a sum up? a "best week ever" of tnb?
2. applying to a big-girl school on friday... i'm only eight weeks away from getting out of the community college pond and i'm a little jittery about this new adventure.
3. having to set a "last day in mortgage". (!!) i'll only miss three people here.
4. finding some seemingly frivolous and menial part-time job to work while going back to school full-time.
5. going to belize in december wherein i can worry about potentially getting skin cancer because i won't be able to get enough of that warm orange ball of awesome in the sky. (!!!)
6. what i'm going to do with part of my mid-august and all of my mid-september paychecks since i'll have paid everyone off by then (touch wood). what?!
7. touching wood.

dear dorothy parker:

a-fuckin'-men!!

RHYME OF AN INVOLUNTARY VIOLET

when i ponder lovely ladies
slipping sweetly down to hades,
hung and draped with glittering booty -
am i distant, cold and snooty?
though i know the price their pearls are
am i holier than the girls are?
though they're lavish with their "yes's,"
do i point and shake my tresses?
no! i'm filled with awe and wonder.
i review my every blunder....
do i have the skill to tease a
guy for an hispano-suiza?
i can't even get me taxis
off to sydney, abes and maxies!
do the pretty things i utter
to the kings of eggs and butter
gain me pearls as big as boulders,
clattering, clanking round my shoulders,
advertising, thus, their full worth?
no, my dear. mine come from woolworth.
does my smile across a table
win a cloak of russian sable?
bab, no. i'd have to kill a
man to get a near-chinchila.
men that come on for conventions
show me brotherly attentions;
though my glance be fond and melting,
do they ever start unbelting
with the gifts they give the others?
no! they tell me of their mothers,
to the baby's pictures treat me,
say they want the wife to meet me!
gladly i'd be led to slaughter
where the ermine flows like water,
where the gay white globes are lighted;
but i've never been invited!
so my summary, in fact, is
what an awful flop my act is!