Day 214: Love and Letdown, the Novel

I've thought a lot lately about breakups, time, social norms, my broken air conditioner, why love exists between two people and what causes it to end, and the upcoming election.  If I think on these things too heavily or for too long a duration, I get slightly depressed and must move on to eating Peeps or watching an English comedy from the 70's. I also've thought a lot about communities and what it means to be a part of one. Despite the fact I've been in Dallas for over a year now, I'm still more a part of my Denton community than anything else, and I've not found a Dallas one in the slightest. Other than at my house and the occasional visit to a coffee shop or pub, I don't hang out here. Whyyyyyy? There are interesting people lurking everywhere around these parts! Why can't I just meet some of them?

This is the eternal question. It's been especially dominant in my thoughts as of late.

I've come to the conclusion that it's the same reason why a serial killer would never bother pinning me as a victim. I don't have a habitual path. I'm never anywhere more than once a week, and I don't have a normal hang out. I don't have a regular gym, post office, grocery store, church, restaurant, or gas station schedule. You will never see me at a place around my neighborhood more than once a month. How would I meet anyone if I'm never anywhere?

The question now is, what do I do about it? Such a cosmic inquiry has been lingering there for months, and I've still done nothing. I'm guessing it's due to the fact I'm happy with the friends I do have (wherever they may be), and I'm so doggedly busy, I rarely have more than a few blinks a day to even be low about it.

So. I shrug, eat a cookie, go for a bike ride, and get on with life.

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In other slightly depressing news, I got a tip at work today about a huge bonus everyone was getting because of a grant that just came through. I was so ecstatic, as anyone would be. Debts paid off! Dent in car fixed! Cavities filled!

The mind reels when thinking of ways to spend money.

But shortly after this I checked my email and found I did not receive the message sent to all the recipients. I asked my supervisor, who reluctantly and sympathetically told me my department was not included in the grant.

My heart sunk. I'm disappointed in myself that I could let a material letdown wreak such havoc on my immediate happiness. Then the pities kicked in. Oh, those pities. They're ugly, smell funny, and no one should let them in the door.

"I work just as hard as those other poopy departments!"  (note: they are not poopy.)

"I can never get ahead..."

"I feel like Christmas was just taken away!"

"Whoa is me..."

But on the commute home, a handful of things occurred to me, despite my being buried in intense hmph-ness.

1. A rusty Honda next to me had a coat hanger as its antenna.

2. My parents, who happen to practically be Jesus in real life, are still alive.

3. A workplace exists that I enjoy being at. I possess a job that I enjoy doing.  And miracle! They pay me.

4. I own the most comfortable bed in the entire universe.

5. My friends are the most fiercely loyal individuals I've ever met, which is wretchedly undeserved on my part.

In saying that, who cares about the money. The hour I was mad about it is wasted, but at least I have the rest of my life to not worry about silly stuff that wasn't even "owed" to me anyway. I should be thankful for a roof, food, love, and any goodness I'm fortunate enough to have graced upon me.

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And to end on a happy note, I made something gargantuanly amazing tonight for dinner. I was thinking of using the pre-made Palak Paneer that I have (made by an Indian company, damn good stuff), but I was also thinking about the tofu that's been marinating for two days intended for the imaginary Miso soup I was supposed to be making. In a rush of hunger and inspiration, I got a fantastic idea.

Dump out the marinated tofu and fry it with green onions and olive oil! Use the remaining marinade and boil it with Israeli cous-cous! Once both are done, combine it with the Palak Paneer to make the most delectable concoction since Zeus himself invented the lightning bolt.....

And although I'm usually the only one who benefits from whatever I make when it's genius (*cough*, when it is), I hope someday it won't always be the case.

Cheesy ending over! Zap!

Day 210: Love, war, dancing, buffoonery.

On Friday, I was in a wedding. It was beautiful, happy, and just as they both wanted it. I'm pretty sure I behaved well enough to go unnoticed, which was mainly my goal. Only a few people heard me and chuckled when they announced "single men! come up for the garter toss!" and I yelled "there are none!". That was my one rebellious moment.

Afterward, I decided to, instead of driving back to Dallas, go to a School of Seven Bells show at Hailey's, where it was reconfirmed: White intellectuals don't dance. I've come across this again and again and view it as the bane of many good shows. This time around, due to my severely unquenched need to rebel, I danced without reservations. Kristen was kind enough to be my partner in crime. I'm sure many strange looks were thrown and plenty of judgmental vibes were sent, but I had a grand time; snobs be damned. I don't understand why people in this vane of culture are afraid to dance. I know at least 85 percent of them wanted to but thought they'd look stupid or unrefined and thus were scared. I'm sure I looked both, but does it really matter? I think the joy of having an uninhibitingly fantastic time is more satisfying than not looking ridiculous. The price is well worth it, like paying pennies for a gold-plated Ipod. 

That being said, next time you go to a quality show and everyone is acceptably bobbing their heads, maybe tapping their foot or tamely swaying, and you really instead want to FEEL the music and dance around, please do!!! If I am there, I will dance with you. White dignity is not as good as a serious dancing fest. 

Day 202: Dry wells

It has become grossly apparent as of late that I am currently unable to cry. There have been several key moments warranting a good sob-fest, but the only thing welling up was my disappointment in the lack of tears. Approximately, it's been early June since the last weep session.

As I drove home from the bachelorette party tonight, at which we had a lovely time, I wanted nothing more than some fat, hot raindrops to stream down my cheeks, but nothing! I just longingly stared at the road and sighed. Dry eyes. Empty heart. As I said, the party was a success and it was a nice time, so I'm not sad or upset, I think I'm just emotionally constricted and am bothered by it. Maybe my spirit is malnourished or thirsty? Regardless of why, something has got to change. I'm ready.

Day 201: Flowers in the windows.

So, I've started buying flowers to put in various make-shift vases around the house. It really helps brighten the moral in this place. However, they wilted yesterday when my air conditioner broke and the house decided to douse itself in 95-degree splendor while I was away at work. My arrival to said sauna at 8 pm that evening induced a panic similar to a high-end restaurant chef encountering a minor stove fire. I was able to reduce the temperature down to 85 and went to bed shortly after (the heat amplified my exhaustion). Due to the uncomfortable temperature and the quick imbibing of a Red Bull on my drive home, I experienced a sticky, paranoia-laced slumber and had strange, psychadelic dreams involving my parents with neon hair visiting my apartment, which was painted a swirly purple/red color. They were appalled at the living conditions I had succumbed to, which in the dream were exaggerated and also included, in addition to the broken air conditioner, all the windows missing, nails sticking out of the floor, and a vicious raccoon living under my kitchen sink. The paint was melting off the walls and poisoning us slowly by entering our bodies through the bottoms of our bare feet, which had daisies between the toes.

It all came full circle. Flowers --> pscychotic meltdown --> flowers.

A good chunk of my friends went to Austin this weekend, and I was supposed to go as well, but I have a lingerie shower (I'm in a wedding next weekend) and too much schoolwork to finish, so I was forced to remain behind. This was a major bummer-causer today, and it was amplified by the fact I still haven't started training for the half marathon, thus making my belly poofy and my legs feel like they belong on a human version of Gumby rather than me. My house still is hot, but it's now at 80 rather than 90, so I'm marginally content with that for the time being. It's supposed to be fixed officially before Monday, and I'm praying I can start being a little mean to my cheapo-leapo landlord and lay on the pressure. I'm awful at anything related to forceful convincing, which means I'd also make a wretched lawyer or salesperson, but I am at peace about this. You don't have to be pushy or overly persuasive to help people, thank God, so there will always be a job somewhere for me....

But maybe not fully functioning air conditioning. We'll see.


p.s. the title of this post is a cheesy Travis song that I actually really like.

p.p.s. I'm not a flower person in general, but I like the weird, extra happy-looking varieties. My favorite is the fuji spider mum: