narcissism

It's my birthday, and here are ten words about that!

Dear Jealousy,

Fuck off. Fuck off fuck offfff.

Warm regards,
Nora.

+ + +

inbetween time, ain't we got fun?

In the past month:
-work
-gym
-gamelan
-crappy Monday night TV (I cannot look away, David Caruso! You suck!)
-vacation, both friend and family
-cooking, home and away
-decorating and rearranging
-buying a couch
-Zip car-ing
-movies
-finally finished Anna Karenina (!!)
-freelancing

+ + +

From as far back as I can remember up until I was about 18, my dreams were dominated by one enduring image or occurrence: in almost every dream, no matter what the situation was, my eyes would get stuck shut. I'd blink, in the dream, and just wouldn't be able to open them. I could pry them open with my fingers, in the dream, but with the next blink they'd stick again. It's the kind of imagery that *must mean something* but I don't know what it means. The kind of thing that maybe I'd look up in a big ol' dream dictionary if I was in a chain bookstore and had some time to kill.

My un-socially-sanctioned and non-religiously-recognized non-wife is living and working in Rome this summer. For the UN. In their offices across the street from the Coliseum. Y'know, like you do. Eating gelato and pizza all the damned time.

Certain things are more difficult around the house without her. One, there are about half as many dinner ideas up in here. Two, I *always* have to take out the trash, do the dishes, maintain the kittylitterbox, do the grocery shopping, clean the tub, etc. Three, to paraphrase the crass asshat t-shirt I saw a few weekends ago (seriously, dude, it is not funny or smart even if you are gay and you think you are wearing it as a witty act of detournement), "It's not going to lick itself."

Q: So, Nora, what have you been up to?
A: Oh, not much. Working and not working, sleeping and not sleeping, reading, sweating, not cooking, and taking cold showers.

Q: Whatcha reading?
A: Well, I just finished re-reading Tipping the Velvet and last weekend I ripped through All the Pretty Horses, the writing style of which reminded me of Faulkner, but somehow I was able to stand it--can't say the same for Faulkner. I'm late to the party on Cormac McCarthy, and I've wanted to read The Road ever since that guy I interviewed with at The Retail Bookstore back in September mentioned that he was loving it (you can always trust employee recommendations of that sort) but I am concerned I will lose some cred reading an Oprah book. She ruins everything. But still...the book existed before she picked it, and there's some comfort in the fact that a post-apocalyptic novel of ruination and devastation will be in the hands of many people more used to things like guest appearances by Dr. Phil or Best Friend Gail. Right now I'm tackling Anna Karenina. Little light beach reading, you know...

As I'd feared, this past weekend was a dangerous thing: put Nora in a big city and give her some friends and a real burrito and what happens? She begins to draw even more unfavourable comparsions between this possible life and her current life.

Yes yes y'all, my maiden voyage to New York was a total success. On Friday night, as we walked to the diner, we acted as first responders to a pretty serious cab-and-bike accident that happened right in front of our eyes, and my lady hit 911 first--an accident in New York reported by a native Wisconsonite visiting the city from her home in Boston but calling on a phone with a Chicago number. We are modern young America, bitches, and we move around a lot.

Well, despite my best intentions, etc. etc. I'm sure you see what's happened here.

Work. In the inimitable words of the Mos, I was looking for a job and then a I found a job, and heaven knows I'm miserable now.

Not really. I like to work; I enjoy toil. But this is certainly an entry level position and my counterparts are all younger than me and have less work experience. We look at our jobs differently: this is already my career, but for them, it may or may not be. For at least two, I know it is not; they're biding time until grad school this coming fall. But really, the way I do my work has very little to do with them. I'm finishing out my fifth week. There is a lot to learn and not a lot of time to learn it in, since adoption season cometh. I have two bosses, between whom I am expected to split my time evenly, 2 1/2 days' worth of hours per week each. This is...a challenge. Additionally, there are many acronyms being tossed around in the office, and I don't yet know what any of them mean--one acronym I should mention here, though: TPS report. No, really. I've had to fill out numerous TPS reports to request access to various IT utilities. Next thing: I bet I get a PC Load Letter error on the fax machine in the corner...

I'M NUMBER FOUR! I'M NUMBER FOUR!

Longer letter later, true believers. I'm still employed and it seems to take up five WHOLE DAYS a week, if you can believe it.

New Model Army: Chinese Whispers The first ever song I heard by my (still favorite band) back in 1988. I can't believe I've been listening to their music for almost as long as they've been recording. Although there are (shockingly) some songs in their catalogue that I just can't listen to, for the most part, their output is (largely) outstanding and unparalleled.

Dead Kennedys: California Uber Alles Dead Kennedys were one of the first punk bands I discovered and myself and those I used to sakte with continually played their albums during our sessions. Back then, I didn't appreciate Jello's wit nearly as much as I do now.

Here are the fun things I did this year, chronologically:
1. twisted the bejeezus out of my right ankle, which still can't move like it used to!
2. endured five solid months of menstruation, leading directly to...
3. got diagnosed with a chronic disease!
4. lost a piercing!
5. quit a job I loved and at which I made bank!
6. left belov'ed Chicago!
7. moved to stinky dumb Boston!
8. ran completely out of money!
9. got fucking painfully, ridiculously depressed!
10. ruined my relationship!

Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, 2006.