get retarded
Is that not the ass-wiggling-est song you've heard in, like, forever? Or since you got sick of "Hey Ya"? I've been dancing around to this on repeat for the past three days. I'm totally hooked.
And now, by popular demand, an update:
Right this moment, right this very moment, I am unbearably, ecstatically excited. I just got off the phone with the boyfriend, and he's in Tucson - almost home. He's been in Texas, visiting his mum outside Austin and seeing friends in Austin, for the past four weeks. Four weeks. That's a frickin' month.
This has been the roller coaster month from hell - I loved him, I hated him, I resented him, I hated myself. And underneath it all, the terrible, universe-crushing question - is it worth it? Is it worth enduring the mood swings and tears and craziness? My mood swings and tears and craziness, that is.
Because he left before I left for Toronto, and was supposed to be back before me. And then he wasn't, and then he still wasn't. His departure date changed probably six or seven times, no joke, and every time I fell for it. I got all caught up in it, in spite of myself, even after I had it pretty much figured out after the first time it happened.
So I was hating him for getting my hopes up, no matter how sincerely he believed he was actually leaving, and hating myself for buying into the emotional maelstrom each and every time. And then resenting the creeping desperation that all the ups and downs seemed to reflect, a desperate kind of clinginess and dependence that I don't want to believe is how or who I am.
It's maybe a little more complicated than that, but that's the Reader's Digest version of my version of some kind of psychotherapeutic analysis.
And now I'm totally riding on the high of seeing him again. This time it's a just a bit easier, knowing that he's on his way, no turning back. I'm still a little pissed, but I'm willing to let that go for a minute while we bask in the niceness of being together again. When that happens. Sometime tomorrow. !!!!
A squee here just wouldn't cut it - but you get the idea.
I had the nicest visit in Toronto, cramming two to three social engagements into each of the eight days I was in the city. Actually, that's a lie - my first two days were spent in the Muskoka region, that's what we call Cottage Country, or Up North, at a friend's newly-built straw bale house. That was lovely, a total immersion into the particularly Canadian beauty of lakes and rocks and pines and mosquitos and clear, blue skies. My sister and I kayaked while our dog paddled after us, wheezing and choking on the cold water. Plus, we went walking in the woods and ate wild raspberries and blackberries right off the brambly bush. Yum.
So the remaining six days were pretty action-packed. I felt honoured and privileged to spend time with both dry_witha_twist and circe_tigana at various points in the week. I have to admit to swooning a little on seeing the actual room where Circe does her posting and writing! I felt like maybe I should light a votive candle or burn some incense or throw myself prostrate on the floor. Just to let her know I'm a fan. 'Cause I am. Instead, I just did my best not to pee on her couch. I know she appreciated that. ;)
It was wonderful, too, to spend time with my mum and sister. And, after a five or six month stretch of radio silence between me and my dad, and after an awkward phone call with him that completely threw me for a loop, I ended up spending a lovely morning with him and his fiancee. It turns out I hadn't heard from him because he was in a deep, dark, toxic depression - a state of being for my dad that I'm all too familiar with after he spent most of my childhood either sleeping, slumping around the house in his robe, or screaming at us. It shouldn't have come as such a surprise to find that that's what had been blocking communication, but I was kind of devastated that I hadn't known, that I had assumed he was just happily distracted by his new love and new house and new puppy. Devastated because I have superpowers of fixing things and people and could have somehow miraculously made it all better from 3,000 miles away. I could have. But then we went for brunch, and he's feeling better now, so that's good. Not because of the brunch. Just because.
Meanwhile, the social socializing culminated with a swanky evening of swanky martinis in the rooftop bar at the Park Hyatt. The rain kind of cancelled out the whole rooftop element (which was actually something like three tables on a ledge outside the main bar with it's dark wood and deep, comfy chairs) but I wore my slinky sundress anyway and got pleasantly sloshed. Me and my dress kept them all guessing whether my breasts would stay put or come out for a public viewing, especially after the third martini. To the disappointment of many, although I'm sure the family members present were relieved, they stayed put. :)
The main problem with going home was the inevitable comparison of Toronto to L.A. I had thought that I was more or less finished with Toronto, ready to put it behind me as one of too many options. But, dammit, it's a good city. And as I started to tell anyone who would listen in the last few days of my trip, I had more stimulating conversation in Toronto in a week than I've had in L.A. in a year. Realistically, that might have something to do with the years and years I've had to build up relationships and arrive at common ground with my friends in Toronto. I'd like to believe that there are interesting, intelligent people here, people I can talk politics and philosophy as well as smut and art and trash with - I know there are. There has to be. I just haven't met them yet.
And mostly that's my own damn fault. Even if the night shift hours don't exactly enhance my prospects for a rich social life, I'm sure if I put myself out there a little more, I would find that those people do exist in L.A. Somewhere. Until I meet them, or until something changes, I have to admit to feeling a little lost. Even though it turns out I do like Toronto, I don't want to be there. And although my circumstances have changed for the better here, I'm not crazy about being in L.A. either. And that doesn't exactly provide the motivation I'm looking for to go out and strike up deep, fulfilling friendships with fascinating new people. Mostly it just makes me want to crawl under my sweat-dampened covers (it's been crazy hot lately) and cry.
But I might feel differently this time tomorrow. 100% guaranteed.
And now, by popular demand, an update:
Right this moment, right this very moment, I am unbearably, ecstatically excited. I just got off the phone with the boyfriend, and he's in Tucson - almost home. He's been in Texas, visiting his mum outside Austin and seeing friends in Austin, for the past four weeks. Four weeks. That's a frickin' month.
This has been the roller coaster month from hell - I loved him, I hated him, I resented him, I hated myself. And underneath it all, the terrible, universe-crushing question - is it worth it? Is it worth enduring the mood swings and tears and craziness? My mood swings and tears and craziness, that is.
Because he left before I left for Toronto, and was supposed to be back before me. And then he wasn't, and then he still wasn't. His departure date changed probably six or seven times, no joke, and every time I fell for it. I got all caught up in it, in spite of myself, even after I had it pretty much figured out after the first time it happened.
So I was hating him for getting my hopes up, no matter how sincerely he believed he was actually leaving, and hating myself for buying into the emotional maelstrom each and every time. And then resenting the creeping desperation that all the ups and downs seemed to reflect, a desperate kind of clinginess and dependence that I don't want to believe is how or who I am.
It's maybe a little more complicated than that, but that's the Reader's Digest version of my version of some kind of psychotherapeutic analysis.
And now I'm totally riding on the high of seeing him again. This time it's a just a bit easier, knowing that he's on his way, no turning back. I'm still a little pissed, but I'm willing to let that go for a minute while we bask in the niceness of being together again. When that happens. Sometime tomorrow. !!!!
A squee here just wouldn't cut it - but you get the idea.
I had the nicest visit in Toronto, cramming two to three social engagements into each of the eight days I was in the city. Actually, that's a lie - my first two days were spent in the Muskoka region, that's what we call Cottage Country, or Up North, at a friend's newly-built straw bale house. That was lovely, a total immersion into the particularly Canadian beauty of lakes and rocks and pines and mosquitos and clear, blue skies. My sister and I kayaked while our dog paddled after us, wheezing and choking on the cold water. Plus, we went walking in the woods and ate wild raspberries and blackberries right off the brambly bush. Yum.
So the remaining six days were pretty action-packed. I felt honoured and privileged to spend time with both dry_witha_twist and circe_tigana at various points in the week. I have to admit to swooning a little on seeing the actual room where Circe does her posting and writing! I felt like maybe I should light a votive candle or burn some incense or throw myself prostrate on the floor. Just to let her know I'm a fan. 'Cause I am. Instead, I just did my best not to pee on her couch. I know she appreciated that. ;)
It was wonderful, too, to spend time with my mum and sister. And, after a five or six month stretch of radio silence between me and my dad, and after an awkward phone call with him that completely threw me for a loop, I ended up spending a lovely morning with him and his fiancee. It turns out I hadn't heard from him because he was in a deep, dark, toxic depression - a state of being for my dad that I'm all too familiar with after he spent most of my childhood either sleeping, slumping around the house in his robe, or screaming at us. It shouldn't have come as such a surprise to find that that's what had been blocking communication, but I was kind of devastated that I hadn't known, that I had assumed he was just happily distracted by his new love and new house and new puppy. Devastated because I have superpowers of fixing things and people and could have somehow miraculously made it all better from 3,000 miles away. I could have. But then we went for brunch, and he's feeling better now, so that's good. Not because of the brunch. Just because.
Meanwhile, the social socializing culminated with a swanky evening of swanky martinis in the rooftop bar at the Park Hyatt. The rain kind of cancelled out the whole rooftop element (which was actually something like three tables on a ledge outside the main bar with it's dark wood and deep, comfy chairs) but I wore my slinky sundress anyway and got pleasantly sloshed. Me and my dress kept them all guessing whether my breasts would stay put or come out for a public viewing, especially after the third martini. To the disappointment of many, although I'm sure the family members present were relieved, they stayed put. :)
The main problem with going home was the inevitable comparison of Toronto to L.A. I had thought that I was more or less finished with Toronto, ready to put it behind me as one of too many options. But, dammit, it's a good city. And as I started to tell anyone who would listen in the last few days of my trip, I had more stimulating conversation in Toronto in a week than I've had in L.A. in a year. Realistically, that might have something to do with the years and years I've had to build up relationships and arrive at common ground with my friends in Toronto. I'd like to believe that there are interesting, intelligent people here, people I can talk politics and philosophy as well as smut and art and trash with - I know there are. There has to be. I just haven't met them yet.
And mostly that's my own damn fault. Even if the night shift hours don't exactly enhance my prospects for a rich social life, I'm sure if I put myself out there a little more, I would find that those people do exist in L.A. Somewhere. Until I meet them, or until something changes, I have to admit to feeling a little lost. Even though it turns out I do like Toronto, I don't want to be there. And although my circumstances have changed for the better here, I'm not crazy about being in L.A. either. And that doesn't exactly provide the motivation I'm looking for to go out and strike up deep, fulfilling friendships with fascinating new people. Mostly it just makes me want to crawl under my sweat-dampened covers (it's been crazy hot lately) and cry.
But I might feel differently this time tomorrow. 100% guaranteed.