tonight the bottle let me down


I just got off the phone with Bad Idea.

We didn’t talk long–maybe 10 minutes. I called him because I was driving home, listening to Heartbreaker and enjoying the gorgeous spring weather and really, really wanting a drink. And of course, all those things add up to Bad Idea. I left him a message, and he called back pretty quickly, and we got to do a little catching up–the first time we’d talked since before Christmas.

He sounds good. He says he misses me when they’re playing bumper pool. He and Jason and the Squirrel have been drinking and bumper-pooling a lot, and he says it’s not the same without GB and me.

I miss the hell outta Bad Idea. I miss the hell outta all those boys. It makes me wonder about the ways my life has changed, and is about to change even more, and it makes me wistful and nostalgic. I do believe that our decisions here are good ones, and I’m really hoping I continue to feel that way in our H.-filled new world. But it’s all so weird, you know? Like Bad Idea said, “You of all people…it’s very strange.” Yeah. I tend to agree. I’m counting on it all going well, but it’s definitely strange.

So yeah. Sigh. Now I’m wistful, nostalgic, pensive, and thirsty.

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I have a lot of performance anxiety lately. I can tell it’s worse than usual because I’m even avoiding memes that ask me to be a tiny bit creative.

But life_of_a_fool tagged me for the six word memoir, and I figured, what the hell. My career isn’t riding on this, right? (Unlike some other things I could be–and am not–writing.)

So here it is:

Instructions:

1. Write your own six word memoir

2. Post it on your blog and include a visual illustration if you’d like

3. Link to the person that tagged you in your post and to this original post if possible so we can track it as it travels across the blogosphere (link to the original post seems to be gone)

4 Tag five more blogs with links

5. And don’t forget to leave a comment on the tagged blogs with an invitation to play!

And here’s my six-word-memoir:

Can I keep this buzz around? 

 

(Yes, the line is  a song lyric, and yes, it’s also the tagline of my blog. But there’s a reason for that. It works for me on a lot of levels. And the photo there, of course, is me and the boys in the Bumper Pool Basement. God damn. I miss those boys, and that basement, so much it’s a little painful. Sigh.)

Anyway. Okay. I’m supposed to tag people. I think most people have done this now….I’ll tag (with no pressure) CRSE, skycatCanada, Weezy, and Kermit.

A few years ago, GB and I realized that we tend to be giant emotional messes on every equinox and solstice.

There’s no good reason for this. But over the years, it consistently happens that I’ll wake up feeling all out of sorts and grumpy and emotional for no good reason, and then I’ll look at the calendar and there one of the Big Four will be.  Maybe whatever factors converge to allow those eggs to stand on end are messing with my cells, too. Whatever.

So yeah. I’m really out of sorts today. Here are my random whines, in no particular order:

  • GB got a new PS3, which is fine and all–he’s been working really hard, he deserves it. But he’s working 10-12 hour days. So he gets home at 9:30pm, we eat a quick late dinner, and then he plays the freaking PS3 until 3am. Needless, to say, I am sound asleep by midnight these days. Then, because he stayed up so late, he gets up even later, goes into work later, and comes home later. Rinse and repeat, and that’s our past week. I am So. Over. only seeing him for half an hour a day. (He did swear this morning that there will be no more late PS3 nights during the week, so that might help a bit.)
  • Having GB at work so much means that I have a *lot* of day to fill up on my own. Normally, this isn’t a problem. Lately, though, I’m afraid of my dissertation, and being all avoidant with it. I don’t feel like I can work on chapter 4–I just don’t know what’s going on in there, and while writing it would help with that, I’m feeling very, very daunted. And I’m terrified to actually READ the (Ex)Advisor’s comments on the first two chapters. Yes, I know there are probably a lot of little editing things in those chapters that I could fix, and that would make me feel like I’m working–and maybe I’ll get to some of those later today. But mostly, I don’t feel ready for the enormous task of totally rewriting what I’ve written so far, and writing another chapter feels kind of futile. So, long story short (I know, too late), I’m stuck.
  • I have to go buy cat food. The cat food place is absurdly far from me, considering what a vastly consumer-oriented town I live in.
  • Also, I really want to be complaining to someone about how uncomfortable I am (already) and how tired I feel and how anxious I am about, well, everything. I whine to my mom and sister, but that’s not very satisfying. So yeah, I’m still very grumpy about having no friends here, and having very minimal contact with most of my friends in other places. I really want to go out for coffee (or a bloody mary–virgin will do, in a pinch) with a friend with a good sense of humor and a sympathetic ear. I have a lot of those friends, but none within at least 500 miles.
  • Have I mentioned that my dissertation hates me right now?

Okay. Whatever. Whine whine whine. I’m just cranky and tired and I lack anything like motivation.

Also? There’s a guy next door, just over the fence (right outside the window I sit next to All. Fucking. Day.), who spends all day, every day (I am so not exaggerating), outside whistling. Just whistling. Not a tune. Not a song. Just random whistled notes. I thought it was a bird, for awhile, but it’s totally random and non-melodic, and only a human could be that annoying. It’s been going on for weeks. It drives me completely insane.

Whew. I feel better. Not much, but somewhat.

Happy Spring anyway, Northern Hemisphereans.

O.M.G.

Trader Joe’s blackberry preserves on buttered California sourdough toast.

So. Freaking. Good.*

*Okay, it’s not a super-chilled dirty martini.  Or even a super-spicy Absolut Peppar bloody mary with those awesome marinated green beans. But it’s still pretty good.**

**But now I really, really want a yummy afternoon-style adult beverage. Sigh.  113 days until my estimated due date. (BUT! 167 days already done! Which is a lot of not-drinking already down, for someone like me. Did I mention that, before getting pregnant, I would estimate that about one week was the longest I’d gone without an alcoholic beverage of some sort in, oh, about 18 years? So yeah. Go me.)***

***And yes, I do ascribe to the “alcohol in moderation is fine” theory of pregnancy. I just can’t seem to get into the occasional glass of wine or beer. I’ve probably had two or three (small, because I’m a paranoid freak) glasses of wine so far, in the past five months. The problem with wine is that I don’t enjoy it in moderation. Well, that would be my problem with alcohol in general, actually. But with the weather like it is now (gorgeous!), I suspect I’ll probably–gasp!–drink a beer or a hard cider in the next few weeks.  Mmmmm. That’ll be lovely.)****

****You know, I really thought I would be the hell-yeah-I’ll-have-regular-drinks kind of pregnant woman. I’ve surprised myself by not being able to get through a whole beer (I had three sips of one the other night and gave it to GB) or a glass of wine. It’s probably a damn good thing that I’m steering clear of the hard liquor altogether, though. That would be where my real vices lie.

Anyway, yeah, the toast was really good.

Remember that Onion article, “Area man always nostalgic for four years ago“? The first time I saw that, I didn’t even find it funny. It hit a little too close to home.

Yes, I know that the whole time I lived on the East Coast I missed California. And I have missed the East Coast terribly since I’ve been back here. It’s the people, of course, that I miss….but it’s always so hard for me to just appreciate whatever there is to appreciate about wherever I’m at.

Anyway. I’ve been in a funk today. GB went to a day-long seminar to help with studying for the Bar, and he’s not home yet. He’s been working a ton and studying like crazy, and I’ve been trying to work and feeling all lonely and shit. I’ve spent a lot of today puttering around the house and online, feeling all out of sorts.

So this text message I just got from Jason–“Stones, basement, bumper pool, snow storm, ganja, wine”–actually made me a little teary. Holy fuck, what I wouldn’t give to be playing bumper pool and drinking wine with Jason and Bad Idea and the Squirrel and listening to the Stones in a snowstorm. Fucking hell. I miss that so bad it hurts.

It’s not exactly that I think I’ve made bad decisions. I think that, in the long run, I’ll probably be happy with the enormous, radically life-changing decisions we’ve made in the past seven months.

But it’s kind of hard to see that right now, sometimes.

Out of nowhere, it was 80 degrees today. Which is nice, and all except for two things: 1) it really, really, really makes me want to sit outside and drink a lot of beer; and 2) I have no warm weather clothes.

(I have been *freezing* for this entire pregnancy, until today. Today, I feel like I’m roasting alive. Gotta love the pregnant temperature shifts.)

In fact, I have two pairs of jeans and three maternity t-shirts (and three other shirts that I can still wear, at least around the house), and that’s my entire wearable wardrobe right now.

So I went to the mall. Well, I went to get pho for lunch, and the mall is on the way. So I broke down and went to a maternity store in an attempt to find lighter clothes.

Sidenote: longtime readers of this blog (all loyal and bored three of you) will remember that I have weight issues. Really, really bad weight issues. Everyone in my family has them, in fact, but I can only vouch for myself: they are incredibly destructive, depressing, and insidious.  I’ve always had these issues, and while I can do the feminist all-bodies-are-beautiful talk blindfolded and drunk, I never believe it when I’m talking to myself. So–three years ago I quit smoking and discovered  I had hypothyroidism (not at exactly the same time, but close), and I gained 35 pounds. Then, last year, I did Weight Watchers, and I lost 35 pounds. And I felt good about myself again, shamefully.

And then I got pregnant.

You know, both of my sisters–who are TINY and who both share my body image/eating/weight issues–both of them gained 60 pounds with each of their pregnancies. And honestly, it’s looking like I’m going to follow in those footsteps.

Because at the store today? Dudes, Nothing. Fits. “Buy your pre-pregnancy size,” my fat ass.

It’s not the belly. I *like* the belly. It’s the weight in my ass, legs, arms, and face that I’m having the problem with.

I’m thrilled that the baby is growing like he should, and I’m happy that there is certainly no danger of malnourishing him. But for fuck’s sake, I’m pretty sure I’m close to where I was at, weight-wise, before Weight Watchers, and I still have 16 weeks to go.

Fucking hell.

Anyway. Shallow, boring, whiny. Sorry about that. And I did get a pair of shorts, regardless (though I doubt they’ll fit all the way through the next four months).

GB keeps telling me not to think about it, that the baby is growing and that’s the important thing, that this is all for a good cause. And I kind of believe that (though stay tuned for a post soon about my Huge! Raging! Ambivalence! about becoming a parent). But do I *actually* believe it? Hell no.

This whole thing makes me want to drink heavily. Ah, the irony.

Yeah…so, remember that whole present-in-the-mail thing that was supposed to happen before the end of the year?

Well, I’m not saying I *won’t* get them out before then, but I have to tell you, it’s not looking so good. I’m having a hell of a time coming up with the basic,  standard gifts this year, and this blogger gift thing has me stumped.

Anyway–if you signed up for a present, it’ll happen! I’m just not sure when. I’m sorry. I kind of suck lately. I imagine I’ll actually get it together soon, and it’ll be amazing. (This is what I keep telling myself…about this, about the dissertation, about the kid…)

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