I’ll never be that optimistic girl you knew from high school. And of all my faulty weaknesses, I think this is the one I may never come to terms with. I even asked boy if he could ever see me that way, the optimist, the smile that walks into the room, the ball of energy that breaks the quotidian. His response – “well, you’ll never be mistaken for that person.” But maybe I want to be mistaken for that person.
Some day I want to write a book. Does everyone have that dream? I like to think that everyone does.
Maybe we’ll have a holiday party. An upbeat party where I can finally wear that black dress I love so much with the black slipper flats. But what if people don’t come?
I want to be a die hard fan of something. Sports, literature, Twilight… But I haven’t found what I want to be a fan of yet.
I love the word quotidian. It sounds like it should be boring when it’s anything but.
I bought nail polish because the name was seasonal – plum pudding. It screamed “wear me during Thanksgiving dinner and everything will taste that much sweeter!” And now that dinner is over, I feel like a whore.
I have a closet turned study room. It has a window and a desk. My thinking space. It’s meant to keep all distractions away, including Jack and Jack’s tongue which he can’t seem to keep in his mouth. He licks air. I think I may be getting a bit lonely sitting here in my thinking closet…
I don’t keep my adoration of wild turkeys a secret. I love them! They’re awesome! And I love hiking and hearing the gobble gobble gobble of a gaggle of turkeys behind a thicket. So of course I can’t eat them on T-day. Not for lack of liking the meat, I love cooked turkey, smells AND tastes delicious. But I just can’t do it. (Not to mention that Palin video… Good grief woman!) So boy and I settled for a vegan shepherd’s pie with kidney beans and chickpeas. What really made it yummy? Ground walnuts. Here are some pics:
Silver Dollar Pancakes for breakfast.
I had to move Jack’s bed into the kitchen so he could keep tabs on what was going on.
The table spread.
Boy was responsible for dessert. Pistachio white cake with almonds and pistachio frosting with chocolate chips and cherries.
Lastly, because this is the season as the commercials would indicate, I bought a fitness DVD! Why? Because after the move I realized my knees can’t take much more running before falling off, so I better find an alternative in order to cut back and save my tendons. And here I was griping about fitness DVD’s because they are for lazy people that don’t want to step outside and it’s going to be so low intensity… Right. Here’s what I bought:
And about 25 to 30 minutes in, I turned to boy and huffed out “oh lord I think I’m going to throw up…” There were cardio moves I was so lost during and I skipped side to side in our new apartment creaking the hard wood floors flailing my arms wondering who in their right mind could follow this stuff! It’s a mix between light cardio and light sculpting moves but it’s back to back to back with increasing intensity and I was following the non-toned girl they put in the mix for the beginners. It’s good for me because all I do is run and my body is so used to running that I can go on and on just running. But can I touch my toes? Not with out my hamstrings screaming because they’re so tight from running. Can I lift a heavy box? Not quite because my arms get no workout aside from swinging back and forth on a run. It’s challenging. And after doing it again tonight I want to go out and get more. And a leotard and leg warmers and an aerobic step (but really, I close the curtains and make sure boy is so enthralled in playing Left 4 Dead so I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me marching in place, knees up, and swing it out, and did she say right or left? wait, what the hell are we doing?)
I am thankful for my family. Very thankful. And sometimes I am thankful for being so far away from them. It’s bittersweet.
I haven’t been online a whole lot lately. I’m settling in. Nesting in my new home. Driving boy and dog nuts by exclaiming “we have to put these shelves up NOW! I need shelves!” So I called my mom for a brief check in on my way home. And my cell phone? It’s this used piece of crap from 1999. It has an antenna. A retractable antenna. But I don’t mind b/c I really don’t like talking on the phone that much anyway. So upon reaching my front door and saying to my mom “Do hear that? That’s Jack greeting me!” – my battery died. Oh well. I plugged it back in to charge thinking my phone would automatically turn back on. It didn’t. So come 11:00 pm, bed time, I turned it on so I could check if my running partner was up for a 6 am run and what did I find? 5 new messages and 2 new text messages. Of course, I expected the first 3 which were my worried mother. Then my worried sister. Then, my worried friend out here in east bay. And I’m thinking, how the hell does my mom and sister know about my friends out here, 2,000 miles away? And the text messages? My brother. WTF?
Apparently the last thing my mom heard was, “Do you hear that? That’s….” and then the sound of Jack’s wagging tail thumping on the door and silence. Except she didn’t know it was Jack. Just thumping. Then silence. So she was worried. And she recruited my sister into that worry. And then my brother. And then she made my sister go on MySpace and find my friends and contacted them thereby recruiting my friends in her worry. She was just short of calling the police.
I’ll be honest, I was livid and embarrassed and felt like I was 15 again. And also impressed that my mother was capable of making me feel that way from so far away. And the following day I received a voicemail from boy imitating my mother saying “Alison! Alison! WHERE ARE YOU?! I’m calling the police. And MacGyver. And Magnum PI. I have their numbers. SWAT team too.” And I kid you not he was so dead on with his impersonation that I could finally lighten up a bit. (Yes, I am way too serious sometimes and totally overreact, but boy always manages to break through it. It’s 1 of 8 bazillion reasons I keep boy around.)
So, yes, it’s funny now. And, of course, in typical mother style, she was able to write me and remind me of a time not too long ago when I was needlessly worried over my dog and felt silly for making such a fuss. I hate the way mothers can do that. But I will say this, sometimes it’s nice to know that my mother tries her best to show she cares from so far away. It can get feel like I’m isolated from my family with them being in Louisiana, Texas, Florida, and Rhodes Island. If need be, my mother will call my boss and/or director and president of the company I work at to let me know she’s thinking of me. (Mom, please don’t ever call my boss. Please.)
On the other hand, there’s the whole boy thing. He hasn’t had too much exposure to my family. And that’s kind of a good thing. Since we started dating, my family has questioned everything. Some people have accepted him (yes mom, that includes you), some of my family never will. Since he’s 11 years older than me, someone assumed that he was divorced and had kids and the rumor spread. (No, it’s not true.) Then the career thing. He was still in school and had a crappy job when we first met. 8 years later, people seem to think he is uneducated and still has a crappy job. (He finished school a long time ago and has an awesome job – makes way more money than me.) And then the car thing. I have a car, he sold his car before we moved out here. He must be using me for my car because we share it and he primarily drives it. (We would NEVER have 2 cars. It’s wasteful and unpractical. I hate driving and appreciate that he drives me around. And really? Why would I ever drive to work? It would be $4 in tolls, $8 in parking, a waste of gas and 50 minutes of my time.) And then there’s the issue of money. Is he using me for my money? (umm, my money? yeah. exactly. I pay $2,000 a semester on classes and books. I have no extra money to share with anyone. I can’t even afford a new phone, that’s why it’s used. The only person that gets my extra dollars is my dog.) It’s just never ending and draining. And because I am the youngest of four kids, I will never be old enough to make good decisions on my own. Regardless of the fact that all the women in my family knew enough to pop out babies by my age. But me? I’ll never be old enough. (What’s with the assumption that only marriage and kids make you an adult?) So why am I thankful for 2,000 miles? Because I would never put boy in the position of being around people who have made up their mind about him. Suppose boy’s family assumed I was some slutty trashy girl from the south (they don’t assume that) why would I ever want to be around people that assumed that? Not to mention I don’t want to have to defend my decisions anymore. I’m glad I feel like we have a family for ourselves here: me, boy, and Jack.
It’s what I realized today. That experiencing passion and sharing passion is sometimes difficult. Remember my rant about how ferns are awesome (they have flagellated sperm!)? Did you know some people could care less about this? No, really. Some people don’t care. I know, I don’t get it either.
Today I finally made the connection as to why I don’t tell certain people certain things. Have you have been really excited about something and down played it for someone because you thought they wouldn’t understand? I’m an atheist. And I remember when I made the decision to be atheist. I felt liberated. Free to move about. Able to experience this world fully without wondering what’s next. I was really excited by my decision. But I couldn’t share it with my best friend and I still haven’t. I don’t know if she feels passionately about her religion or if it’s something she wants to feel strongly about. For her, religion is familial, tradition, culture. For me, it felt like a weight. So why would I ever volunteer this in conversation?
But then there are moments, often surprises, when I’m talking with someone, and I very lightly throw in something, like being a pre-med student. And they catch it and take a curiosity to it. And as I explain how I came to this and why I came to this it becomes easier to let it go and it feels good. And suddenly I appreciate the person I am talking to so much more because having a passion acknowledged by someone feels good.
And I hope I can pass it on. Recognize what other people feel passionately about without letting it slip away in a conversation.
And yes, peter le feu, it means exactly that. Farting fire. But in a good way.
Someone asked me if they did this to him because he’s a fashionista in the office. umm, not quite. I told him how much I like the picture. It’s hot. But if he ever put my face on another body and said the same thing to me… watch out.
I saw this tidbit in Yahoo news today:
CAPE CANAVERAL, Fla. – A refrigerator-sized piece of space junk fell harmlessly into the South Pacific Sunday night, according to NASA.
The junk was a tank full of ammonia coolant on the international space station that was no longer needed. Astronaut Clayton Anderson threw it overboard during a spacewalk in July 2007.
Space station program manager Mike Suffredini said Monday that the debris splashed down somewhere between Australia and New Zealand Sunday night. The tank had served as a reserve supply of spare coolant at the space station since 2001.
This bothers me. Mainly because the person who threw it overboard is identified, right there. But this is not inappropriate behavior by any means because we have been littering space since exploration began.
And I caught the end of a National Geographic special about the rover on Mars. The rover will probably never be retrieved from the surface. It has no off switch and will run until it runs no more.
I know there are undeniable benefits to space exploration. But this just doesn’t seem right. We all know it’s wrong, but do the benefits really outweight the consequences?