(no subject)
The thing about not posting is that, as I do with several other neglected projects, I get overwhelmed by all the things I once wanted to talk about, and then on the other hand, I feel like I ought to have something of Substance to say (see also: neglected real-name journal, which has gone far more months than this one in a state of stasis).
But none of this is true and I am still working on remembering how to write in these spaces like I once did, without being quite so emo all the time. I love everyone else's emo posts, but when I'm this happy, it's ridiculous to only write when I'm not. I did have a mid-sized pre-birthday PMS-inflected I'll-never-do-anything meltdown last week, but it was the only serious such moment of the year, and that's good. I was on the way back from seeing a very disappointing show at Rockwood Music Hall, in the throes of Gmail hatred (finally making the change, and jesus, it just makes it hard to make it work the way I want it to), and having a fight with the very idea of it being my birthday again already and yet already over (because a birthday the day before Thanksgiving means you celebrate at a different time, and I already had).
So I became inconsolable Molly, which happens, and sucks, and then you move on and go to work the next day, and leave at three to go drink fancy beer in Midtown and then stuff yourself with delicious meat at St. Anselm. Which is the closest thing I've found, so far, to one of Oregon's low-key incredible-food establishments, which explains why it's usually fairly packed.
It's been an interesting month.
At the end of October, A. came to visit and we spent a lot of time eating and drinking well. I think that's mostly what we did. Also, there was a freak pre-Halloween blizzard, so she and I bought rain boots. Mine are ridiculous, fuzzy-lined and bright blue, because they were the only pair of rain boots in the packed Williamsburg store that fit. I spent the rest of the night alternately feeling silly and admiring them. And freezing, also.
I went to Philadelphia with S.'s band because I could, and wanted to, and because it was November 13, a date that I then proceeded to not think about hardly at all until we got home at three in the morning. I felt like I was less alone with that perpetual grief, and so it lifted, and when it came rushing in I was ready for it in a different way.
Like a grownup, who knows that no one is going to get all that drunk and that we've all gotten somewhat more responsibly in our old age, I had my birthday celebrations on a Sunday evening. Friends bought me glasses of sparkling wine and things from clothing swaps to ridiculous '90s videos were discussed; the mix of people was odd and wonderful, mix and match, lines crossing just the way I like, and I went home with flowers and a smile.
The holiday weekend was long and sleepy, and we didn't do anything for Thanksgiving - well, we wound up eating nachos in the semi-Irish bar in our very Polish neighborhood, which seems like a very not-doing-anything thing to do. Football was on, and I was reading, so some things never change.
And then, on Friday, we went to Sleep No More, which probably needs italics as it's a theater production but is more of an experience, so I'll leave it be. It also probably needs its own post. And I need more coffee.
But I'm going to try to do this more.
But none of this is true and I am still working on remembering how to write in these spaces like I once did, without being quite so emo all the time. I love everyone else's emo posts, but when I'm this happy, it's ridiculous to only write when I'm not. I did have a mid-sized pre-birthday PMS-inflected I'll-never-do-anything meltdown last week, but it was the only serious such moment of the year, and that's good. I was on the way back from seeing a very disappointing show at Rockwood Music Hall, in the throes of Gmail hatred (finally making the change, and jesus, it just makes it hard to make it work the way I want it to), and having a fight with the very idea of it being my birthday again already and yet already over (because a birthday the day before Thanksgiving means you celebrate at a different time, and I already had).
So I became inconsolable Molly, which happens, and sucks, and then you move on and go to work the next day, and leave at three to go drink fancy beer in Midtown and then stuff yourself with delicious meat at St. Anselm. Which is the closest thing I've found, so far, to one of Oregon's low-key incredible-food establishments, which explains why it's usually fairly packed.
It's been an interesting month.
At the end of October, A. came to visit and we spent a lot of time eating and drinking well. I think that's mostly what we did. Also, there was a freak pre-Halloween blizzard, so she and I bought rain boots. Mine are ridiculous, fuzzy-lined and bright blue, because they were the only pair of rain boots in the packed Williamsburg store that fit. I spent the rest of the night alternately feeling silly and admiring them. And freezing, also.
I went to Philadelphia with S.'s band because I could, and wanted to, and because it was November 13, a date that I then proceeded to not think about hardly at all until we got home at three in the morning. I felt like I was less alone with that perpetual grief, and so it lifted, and when it came rushing in I was ready for it in a different way.
Like a grownup, who knows that no one is going to get all that drunk and that we've all gotten somewhat more responsibly in our old age, I had my birthday celebrations on a Sunday evening. Friends bought me glasses of sparkling wine and things from clothing swaps to ridiculous '90s videos were discussed; the mix of people was odd and wonderful, mix and match, lines crossing just the way I like, and I went home with flowers and a smile.
The holiday weekend was long and sleepy, and we didn't do anything for Thanksgiving - well, we wound up eating nachos in the semi-Irish bar in our very Polish neighborhood, which seems like a very not-doing-anything thing to do. Football was on, and I was reading, so some things never change.
And then, on Friday, we went to Sleep No More, which probably needs italics as it's a theater production but is more of an experience, so I'll leave it be. It also probably needs its own post. And I need more coffee.
But I'm going to try to do this more.