Again with the up and down.

L's profile picture has her new gf on it. It doesn't hurt anymore, but it makes me kind of uncomfortable and irritated.

Di and I had a heart-to-heart in the parking lot at the gym tonight. He lost half of his Sunday shift due to our boss's concern for him (and our members), and we attempted to go to Best Buy and Barnes and Nobles but they were closed, so we went to Target instead. I'm being very careful on this one.

Fears of my own shift reduction were taken care of tonight.

I really like people at the gym.

Things have been a little tense around the dorm lately, but that might just be me. I'm not around often enough to care, at this point. I had time to do my laundry, and I'm cool with that.

We're cleaning up our language on our shift. Well, not really. But we are toning it down.

I GOT FREE HOUSING FOR THE SUMMER. in FEBRUARY. This is unheard of. It is my OWN PLACE. I may never leave.

Unless it is to go to Athens, which is apparently a Southern mini Portland. About twelve people bicycled past the Grit, which was eerily reminiscent of Paradox Cafe, in the hour and half we were there. The mass comm major at UGA is beginning to look appealing.

I've lost a bit of weight.

I no longer have enough time in the day to do everything, but I did discover that blowing off one's responsibilites for after-meeting cooldown is perfectly fine. Also, I only require seven hours of sleep, instead of my previously misconception of eight. Booyah.

I'm not really doing well on my friendship with Ra. Must fix.

Or De. Must also fix.

I require tattoos.

busy busy busy

It's been up and down lately. I'm working too much to keep everything in the air; I haven't been attending class like I should, but it's likely my grades won't suffer because of it. Our staff went to a journalism conference tonight and came back bursting with ideas. I'm tremendously excited and am so tired I can barely move. I have two papers, two articles, and a Core test this week, with a film journal due the week after that. I'm in bed at 9:54 on a Friday night and can't stop listening to Regina Specktor. I did nearly all of my dishes and laundry and put in my RA application. I can't seem to make it to the bank. I ate at The Grit for the first time and now understand the importance of the Golden Bowl.

Maybe soon I will live in hippie-Athens and find a partner and we will have dogs and enjoy slightly lower living costs. I will be in a three way relationship with her and my job.

I cannot stop watching West Wing, and I am a phone call and two hundred dollars away from swallows on my sternum.

By the time I graduate from college, I will have spent so many hours looking at housing on Craigslist and the billions of apartment websites that I could go into the industry and make a fuckin' mint.

I am wired, probably because of that. Dumbass self of mine.

In other news, I am working way too much, but I got to spend like eight whole hours today staring mindlessly into a television screen. I am cramping from my abdomen to my knees and Gr got pissed because I walked into her room when she wasn't there to borrow her West Wing--which I had already asked to borrow, set by the television, and she had scooped it up before I got through two of the episodes. I want to live by myself like nobody's business, but I have to ask Br, and I don't really want to do that on the first of February, but it looks like it's gonna roll that way. I want to live in the Darlington because I don't want any more roommates. I am tired of roommates. I understand why Mo spends so much in her room. My black dancing skeleton blanket smells like a stank ass. I want my own space.

I'm also a tad hormonal. My life has been great lately. But I am pissy and I apologize to the collective internet.

Nico and Neutral Milk Hotel make really great music and work flowed by so quickly I barely noticed Saturday and Sunday.

I love my jobs.

First, there's the gym. I have added quite a few hours from my normal Saturday 1-6pm shitick, but it's still pretty groovy. (After I start working 22 hours regularly, I will update, probably with some bitching.) The coworkers there, like at many jobs, pretty much make it. I work with Mer, a refugee from El Salvador and a transplant from Australia. She's been living here for seven years, legally, waiting for the legal system to make her an official citizen. She finally got her green card in the mail on Thursday night. Her husband of twenty-odd years came by with a slim Fed Ex envelope and pulled it out for her. She was so happy. Immediately, after looking at it in joy, she rushed off to the office so that she could have it photocopied. Mer has three kids--one daughter off at college, one 18-year-old she wishes would leave soon, and a teenage son. She appears to be a good mother, and we share stories of her feisty daughter at home and my 16-year-old sister, Mi. She is not my favorite person to work with, but that's just because I have a lot of awesome people from which to choose. Her back aches and I hear about it, but, to her credit, I do believe it is a genuine complaint. She is also rather conservative, and once told a coworker that she was suspicious of black and Hispanic guys checking out her ass all the time, so for the first few weeks at work, she work long coats. The black coworker and I stared at each other and laughed and called her a racist. I told her to watch out for white guys performing the same maneuver. Mer and I work together Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from six to close.

Di has been there for three years and is accordingly burnt out. We sit at the desk on Saturdays with his laptop and portable speakers and blast obscene rap music. Sometimes we dance. He is a good dancer and I am not bad for a white girl from Memphis. He trained me when I took up the shift and we’ve been working it together for a year. Generally we are not overly concerned with being professional, but we get the job done, treat the members with respect (even the ones we want to physically harm), and don’t act like rampaging teenagers, unlike some of the other people with whom we have worked.

Di, without his fro, possibly makes it up to my cheekbones. He weighs about ninety pounds and wears baggy pants and long shirts to compensate. He is from Panama and has skin that could pass as white or Hispanic. He wears glasses and wants about 12 piercings and various tattoos. Recently we knocked that down to 11 by going to a tattoo parlor and procuring him his first piercing, in the cartilage of his left ear.

He’s got some intense emotional issues. From what I can tell, he’s been depressed since he was about fifteen years old. He is twenty-two now. He goes to a prestigious, notoriously difficult college in our area and it kicks his ass regularly, although I am fairly certain he is very intelligent. When he was a freshman, he lived in the dorm, but now he lives with his controlling mother and father, and I think some of his issues will continue until he moves out. I am passively encouraging this by periodically sending him Craigslist posts with affordable housing by his college, but I also think his mother would pitch a fucking fit if he ever tried to move out. He has a video game hobby that I am sure is quite expensive. He is a nerd with a capital N and wants to program video games one day.

Our history is one strictly of friendship, but I have harbored a slight crush on him since about the time I met him, and he has made it abundantly clear that he would date and/or sleep with me in a heartbeat. I am no longer certain if I am straight enough to sleep with a man, but if I were, he is cute but not my type. So we flirt occasionally and hang out and I am glad, because he seems generally happier and I am in need of friends who have never spent more than a few hours on my school's campus.

Mer, Di, and I also work with a bevy of trainers, almost all of whom I really like and have sometimes spent time with outside of work. The notable exception to that rule is Bry, who is The Asshole. Every workplace has one (or several); the one who works with us is Bry. We put up with him, but I recently confronted him about his assholery and now I think he is a little terrified of me. He flirts with almost every single woman with whom he comes into contact (and is, of course, neither single nor without parental obligations), and I surmised that he has a bit of an issue with women. He has a big issue with me because I am an assertive woman. So that's fun, but ultimately not a big issue, since we don't work in the same space, rarely at the same time, and I goof off during my shifts far less than he does.

So I like working at the gym, but I love working at the Writing Center at school. Currently I am on the clock. No one has shown up, nor is anyone likely to on a Sunday night the second week of school. We do indeed become busy, but not usually today. The lights are off and the sun is illuminating the room just right. It is very quiet. Ideal for doing homework, if I had any sort of inclination to do homework right now. Also it is a minute drive from my room, and about a five minute walk. Can't beat that.

But my absolute favorite is babysitting. I sat for four boys last night, all under six, and made $180. One day, if I ever become a lawyer, that might seem like chump change, but I am twenty years old and that is my car payment plus 86 cents. I really enjoy children, and I usually play with them instead of immediately parking them in front of the TV. I do dishes and I clean up and I'm patient and firm. I especially enjoy other people's homes, food, and cable television after their children have gone to bed. Last night I drove to B's house at four in the morning, having looked up tattoos on the internet for quite a few hours. And, when I was leaving this morning, the Ss texted me and asked me if I were available next Friday and Saturday. Score. Babysitting sometimes makes me feel isolated, particularly in the Ss' house--I think it's because it's brand new and they just moved in, so it doesn't quite feel like someone's home yet--and it isn't steady income, but I really love it. Just getting away from school is amazing. And I get paid for it! Can't beat that.

I'm not sure what it says about me, then, that I have blogged this much about work, but it's my life right now, and I'm having fun with it.

K and I went to RuSan's after a scholarship panel tonight. It was a lot of fun. I have never been there before and the atmosphere was very groovy. There were approximately a million people jam-packed into the tiny space. People from our college were there; I wanted sake but could find no one to procure it for us. We were seated across from a couple; by the time we had ordered our drinks, the manager moved us. He promised us sake for our troubles and delivered. So K and I had wonderful sushi (twelve tiny rolls of avocado... doesn't get much better) and hot sake, and then we went to Whole Foods and picked up some vegan cookies. M, G, and Al came into RuSan's right around the time we were leaving, and they got back as we started The Stepford Wives. I'm dogsitting for the weekend, so I had to cut out early. I drove back with Kanye West singing "Can't Tell Me Nothin'." The weather is much, much warmer, but I turned on the heat, low, and reveled in the company of myself and the quiet, comforting rumble of my engine. I thought about leg tattoos and dating the cute girl who came up and asked me questions after the panel. (Earlier, tipsy on sake, I declared repeatedly that I had met my wife tonight. But even earlier, without the aid of sake, I voiced this thought. She reminds me of Em's sister J. I am a fan.) I knew that she was being open and friendly in order to garner favor with the university, but I didn't particularly care. I briefly envisioned myself as a junior dating a freshman, listening to rap as we drove around Atlanta. At least in that scenario, I wouldn't be the one chain smoking the last two weeks of school.

But we'll see. My tummy is full and happy on avocado sushi and veg cookies, I'm staying in a house with an Actual Freezer, and I've found some apartments I can afford over the summer break. M has offered me her dining room if I can't find anything, which I very much appreciate. I was worried it would be very hard to find housing this year; turns out it's much easier having done it once already.

I'm planning on attending a bellydancing class tomorrow; we'll see if that happens on my sleep schedule, but it would be nice. I love spinning but I miss dancing. Then I have work at the gym with D, which means blasting rap from speakers and dancing and no bosses. And then I'm babysitting for four kids, sixteen dollars an hour, and I probably won't be back until 3 a.m.

Life is grand.

I talked with my cousin last night until two, trying to convince him to leave the dirtier part of the south and join me in my fair city.

R alleviated my ex/RA problem for me. I did not ask her to do this. She is a keeper. I am very grateful.

I cannot attend a meeting at work that was spurred by my misconduct. Misconduct here meaning I wrote some passes and someone else bitched to our supervisor about it. I am very sad I will not be in attendance but a girl's gotta work Sunday nights helping people out with their papers, lemme tell ya.

I appear to have chosen homework lite classes this semester. This is an extremely positive thing. Despite my excessively structured schedule, I seem to have lost all motivation for homework-type activities. But it's only the second week; I'll get into it.

I am chuckling to myself as I revamp my previous RA application. What I will say is that this time around will be superior.

Netflix finally received the two DVDs I have been hoarding for over a month. Perhaps now I can learn some sign language via DVD instruction.

I am staying at B's house Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. I am getting paid a hundred dollars, so that is good, but I have quite a conflict Saturday night; I need to leave work early, swing by the house to let the dogs in, go to the gig late (with permission), and return probably around two a.m. I am going to take up all rugs in the kitchen this time to prevent a repeat of the Peeing Incident of 2008, but I think it will be okay. I hung out with my coworker earlier, so hopefully he will be appeased and not be pissed I'm leaving early. Again.

I am not feeling particularly poetic and I really, really need those eight hours.

But in other news, my spinning shoes have done wonders for my leg muscles.

I installed a new lamp on the side of my bed today, right before I changed my sheets (for the first time since I moved in, embarrassingly enough). It is my birthday lamp: green and glorious--and from IKEA, so it's not really putting off much light, but it contributes to the mood-lighting theme I've got going on, so I like it. Plus I don't have to lean over the foot of my bed and snatch at the Christmas light cord to make the lights go out, which is what I have been doing previously, so that is a definite improvement. And I bought it with Devy; what's not to love?

I am on a slight H.I.M. kick. I know the cause and consider myself foolish. When I was driving back home last night after Mellow Mushroom pizzas and cartilage piercings, "Dirty Little Secret" played on the radio. I took it as a sign of the Universe to keep it in my pants, which I fully intend to do. I am an adult and should be making correspondingly more intelligent decisions, dammit. At least I'm not actively pining over my ex. Be careful for what you ask.

But the best thing to do when obsessed with something is to become obsessed with something else, which I fully intend to do. If it's not school, it will be a tattoo. I do not have the kind of money to drop on the kind of piece I want right now, nor have I spent enough time thinking of what I want, so that's rather far off, but looking is generally entertaining. Plus I think that I will add about three more spin classes to my schedule and maybe do Saturday morning bellydance classes, thereby stripping me of every second of free time I might have imagined I possessed.

In the meantime, I'll listen to H.I.M. cover "Solitary Man" and pretend I have no romantic or sexual interest in another human being until I graduate.

Melinda was mine 'til the time
that I found her holdin'
Jim and lovin' him.

Then Sue came along,
loved me strong,
that's what I thought,
but me and Sue,
that died, too.

Don't know that I will
but until I can find me,
a girl who'll stay and
won't play games behind me.

I'll be what I am,
a solitary man,
a solitary man,
a solitary man.

I've had it to here - being where love's a small world,
a part time thing, a paper ring.
I know it's been done
havin' one girl who loves you,
right or wrong,
weak or strong.

Don't know that I will
but until I can find me,
a girl who'll stay and
won't play games behind me.

I'll be what I am,
a solitary man.

the first week of school, spring semester

today I woke up and went to class at eight a.m. and presented a short paper to my core class. I could speak at the beginning of class, but by the end, when I tried to ask a question, I was shit out of luck in the voicebox department. I went to film class and fell asleep. I went to spin class, and A played Tegan and Sara, which was awesome. She is on a more alternative kick nowadays. We are planning to petition the gym for a Sunday morning class rather than the wacky 4:45 time. I called and confirmed a babysitting job, then attempted to call Aveda twice to schedule a hair appointment. No luck. I mailed thank-you notes to L and L and my car payment, got gas, and took M to her orthodontist appointment. I like hanging out with her--she is pretty sweet and we always have pretty pleasant conversations.

Due partly to the horrific lack of a nearby Target in Portland, I went to Target, after taking M to Publix and dropping her off at her mom's, for about an hour and a half, and spent a ridiculous amount of money. A lot of it was for other people's birthdays and whatnot, so that was okay. I have Am's Christmas gift, various cards, GY's birthday present, and a perhaps present for Mom. I also bought sushi and will return the verdict on my five dollar Target brown rice-and-veggie roll later. I suspect the wasabi will cover any horrible tastes, and hope to actually make sushi myself someday soon. At least I don't eat meat--non fish sushi should be very inexpensive. I also bought products to avoid having my skin flake off my face, which will be nice. I found a gray hat that actually fit me, which will be exciting tomorrow because apparently the ATL is going to freeze, and all of the news stations are attempting to get their viewers to freak out about it. I personally am not afraid, since I both own a coat and am aware of the antifreeze levels in my car, the latter thanks to my father.

I am enjoying spending time by myself again, which is a very good sign. I stopped Brokeback Mountain yesterday before the sad part, so I watched that part when I got home, and then everyone (including KB and AK) came over and we watched Grey's and Private Practice. Then AK cut my hair, which was awesome. She basically made it look like it did when I first got it cut. All I need is a pair of those scissors that cut every fourth hair so I can thin everything out, and then I will be good in the hair department for another six weeks. I may need to start buying her dinner every couple of months, as I possess no comparable tradeable skill.

Honors, Medieval, and many trips to the boss's house tomorrow.

Portland: interruption for day four

My attempts to resist PST have failed. I have succumbed. I am merely an hour away from assimilating totally into the Portland time zone. I am a job, two years, and housing away from the city itself... but why sweat the details? :)

Walking around the Pearl District was an excellent way to reassure myself that yes, the nanny market is vibrant in almost every community. We had sushi for fifty percent off. I had the largest avocado rolls I'd ever seen and flirted with Nicole, pleasantly buzzed from my new favorite form of alcohol, hot sake. It tastes like bread and once I swallowed it correctly and it hit the right part of my tongue and I didn't grimace. Kyung-Ah had the spider rolls, which looked the part, and Nicole had this crazy roll that had a raw egg in the middle of imitation crab meat, which looked like the eyeball from Lord of the Rings.

Before that, we went to the Portland Aveda Institute and got facials. It was amazing. I incorrectly assumed that getting a facial involved someone putting on a mask, letting it sit, and then taking it off. Nope. From the moment I was told that we were doing aromatherapy, I knew that I was in for a thirty-dollar treat. My therapist was extremely nice and loved my salmon colored coat I picked up on SE Belmont for twenty bucks. It was lovely. The space was awesome; concrete floors, a huge staircase to the main level, long gray curtains separating each of the spaces into little rooms. I had a little hitch when I tried to pay; turns out that I had left my debit card and taken my school pass instead. But my sister gave me the number to the card and all was well. The girl who had rung me up had a nice tattoo of a pumpkin on her back, curving up to her shoulder, which she said she had paid ten dollars for since her friend is a tattoo artist. All of the girls were extremely good-looking and I have decided I should attempt to live near there so I can lure them to dinner with me. Perhaps I should frequent the one in Atlanta as well.

We are going to the Paradox Cafe for the last time tomorrow. I am extremely excited to eat their vegan French Toast again. I had the basil pesto and bruschetta veggie burger today, and it tasted even better than it sounds.

Note to self: learn to cook.

Portland; part one

Three days in on my Portland trip, but by day two I could already tell that this was the city for me.

The first day was rough; we traveled for hours and hours, from Nashville to Dallas to Portland. We moved uncertainly, excitedly through the airports. The woman behind us at the security check in Nashville was going somewhere to bury her mother and cried when she told the supervisor about it. I bought water and a raisin and almond packet for seven dollars and boarded the plane. I almost threw up after reading part of Chuck P.'s guide to Portland--not because it was terrible, but because I get motion sickness if I am hunched over reading material and away from the window. I corrected this problem and didn't feel sick again.

The Dallas airport was amazing. It was very high tech and laid out well. The transit system was easily the cleanest I'd ever been on. We boarded our plane after Laura grabbed a wrapped turkey sandwich from a Friday's, and I ate the bread, lettuce, and tomato from that in addition to quite a lot of nuts. The plane ride from Dallas to Portland took forever--about four hours. It was interesting to see the changes in the people from flight to flight. The Dallas airport had a much larger obvious gay population than Nashville. The people going on the flight with us to Portland were hippie-laid back. The woman in front of us when we were loading on the plane was listing all of the animals that she and her toddler daughter were returning to see, among them a chicken.

After the plane ride that lasted approximately forever, we landed in a much smaller, much less crowded airport and settled down on the MAX train. It had a raised seating area in the back, which is different from MARTA. It was slower than MARTA, too, but the thing I like best about the Portland public transit system is that normal people take it. The most annoying person was a young man who wished for the entire train to hear his rap music and to sample his own voice quietly rapping along. I wanted to tell him, "What are you trying to prove? Turn down your damn music. Don't try to prove how 'hood you are in fucking Portland. I'm from Memphis, where the actual ghettos are." But I did not say this to him and that was probably a good thing. He got off two stops later.

Finding our bus, 14, the bus we have come to love during this trip, was really hard because I am severely directionally challenged. Severely. I have tried to overcome this defect and have mostly succeeded in the are of driving. I have yet to master it in the area of walking. Laura found our bus for us. We dragged our suitcases on the train, entering with a bunch of dreaded people about our age carrying a box of potted plants. I got off way too early, terrified we were going to pass our hostel. After walking a few blocks, we reboarded the bus, where a nice man told us he would tell us when to get off. We finally found it and put our stuff in a room full of girls our age. Two were from Iowa, a plump girl with hair she had dyed blonde in the past and had been growing out her natural brown for quite some time. Her friend was a skinny senior from the University of Iowa. She wore glasses and got up as early as I did the next morning, and I liked her. There was another girl who was apparently born to travel. She had spent a year as a preschcol teacher and was getting ready to start a farm with her partner, her boyfriend of three weeks. She left the hostel the next day, not sure where she was going to sleep the next night, money running out, and all of her stuff, including her dog, with her boyfriend in his trailer. She told me that when things look rocky, something always comes up to save you. She had a job starting Thursday and nowhere to live. She didn't come back to the hostel, so I presume something good happened to her.

Another girl, Nicole, is really groovy, particularly because she's letting me use her computer to type all of this out. We're going with Laura and the last girl, Qting, to get facials and other girlie stuff at Aveda tomorrow. Or at least I hope we are, since we didn't make appointments. An older lady joined us last night, but she pretty much spends all of her time on her laptop in the kitchen. Laura wants to shoot her because she snores.

I took a shower the first night we were here, after we went to Hot Lips and I ate a wonderful vegan pizza (they just MAKE them here, you don't have to explain to them why you don't want cheese--no, seriously, no cheese). Then we both took showers and felt better and fell asleep way too early, on Eastern time.

The next day, it was misting as we headed out in search of the famous Paradox Cafe for brunch. I had been awake and up since seven PST, feeling around in the dark and going upstairs to brush my teeth and straighten my fro. I woke Laura up and we headed out around eight. The neighborhood was quiet. We cut through a residential area that was gorgeous; modest-sized homes with amazing greenery and gardens, painted pale yellow and purple and a million other colors. One house had an iron fence with beautiful color patches on it. It was like being in a different world. No one owned an SUV bigger than a Honda Element, all the cars told us to share the road or recycle or keep Portland weird, and every house had bright city-issued bins for recycling and compost. COMPOST. I had found my neighborhood, sans the job for buying my way into it. I have never seen so many bikes in my life. We saw a woman with a two seater, her tiny daughter on a smaller attached bike.

The Paradox Cafe was beautiful and I have never been so in awe of French toast in my life. I had butter, too, and tofu that was delicious and veggie sausage. I was ridiculously full and in awe of a city that was not only well aware of what a vegan ate, they came stocked in preparation for it.

Next post: our trip to the vegan mall, rain, and what the hell a Plaid Pantry is. The beginning of my hope to find a Target.

it's nearly four in the morning, atlanta time, and i can't sleep. i'm looking up how to move cross country in a scion xa and listening to the wind chimes outside. there's one night manager sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop and the tall creepy guy who always seems to be hovering right outside of our bathroom or room who may or may not actually be in a room now; otherwise, the house is asleep. it is a state i'd like to be in. we're going to the university tomorrow to check things out and friday we're getting facials. i'm hungry already. i need sleep.