Affirmation.

So I have a shriveled, black heart, right? I'm pretty okay with that, especially after this week. This week sucked ass.

One of the more bizarre incidents was being stopped in the parking garage at work by a strangely belligerent and yet weepy young woman. She stopped one of the co-workers and I and asked if we had a cell phone. As I was standing around with my cell phone in my hand, I couldn't quite lie. Co-Worker is a Luddite and has no such technology (which is a pain in the ass when you want to call him and complain about sucky-ass things). So Strangely Belligerent Yet Weepy Stranger kind of chased Co-Worker off, saying her problem was too embarrassing and she'd like to make the call in private, but apparently was okay with me standing there. Why wasn't she scared off by the shriveled, black heart? Other people are. Co-Worker was very supportive and kind of Should I leave? Should I call the police? Do you have pepper spray? You realize you're being kind of stupid, right? But, whatever, I could totally take Strangely Belligerent Yet Weepy Stranger in a death match. Hah.

I ended up standing around in that garage for a good 10-15 minutes as she called about ten phone numbers trying to get help as her embarrassing problem was that her car broke down somewhere on the highway, she used up all her money trying to make phone calls, and was now stranded 50 miles from home in a crappy neighborhood. Allegedly. And crying all over my phone. My beeeyoooteefull phone.

I ended up making an excuse (because I felt REALLY uncomfortable at this point), and giving her a dollar in quarters, which was honestly all the cash I had on me. Stranger still, instead of going to the security desk or looking for a pay phone, she walked up to the third floor of the parking garage, where there are no phones, just a few cars. Uh?

This didn't really impact me, just one of those got caught in an uncomfortable situation, but no foul to me, and maybe I helped out someone just a little.

Which brings me to today. I parked on a busy street, trying to get to the Chinese grocery. Stupid Pittsburgh parking meters only take quarters. Guess what I was out of? But just needed a few things, was going to chance it, danger freak that I am. Walked a little ways down the street, and saw the meter maid's car, said shit ever so quietly and reversed my direction. A very nice man in a blue shirt, walking now in the same direction as me said "Quarters?," reached into his pocket and gave me two quarters, refusing to be repaid, without even breaking his stride.

I love this man. After this sucky-ass week (no, really! I have a degree in English Literature!), proof that it all works out, that what you get is what you put in and sometimes people are just kind for no reason at all, that was good.

My shriveled black heart warmed just a little.

Please don't vomit now.

Now

Now, I've been thinking I really should have woken up earlier to work on my thesis.

Now, I've been thinking that having a "late lunch" shouldn't mean eating your first meal of the day at 325pm.

Now, I've been thinking it would be nice if Fanny were here in my town so I could drag her to watch a film/hang out and do something this evening.

Now, I've been thinking the day has turned out lovely (bright sunshine, a cool breeze) and I'm sat indoors writing on the computer.

Now, I've been thinking I should have accepted the BBQ invite I got a few hours back (instead of the dinner invite I ended up deciding on)

Now, I've been thinking that three years is too long not to see my parents.

Now, I've been thinking I should really get off my arse and start doing some daily exercise (and not just lift pint glasses as I watch soccer).

Now, I've been thinking I should confess I voted for American Idol on Tuesday.

Now, I've been thinking this list is getting too bloody long and yet I have lots of things I could add to it.

But not now.

Now, I reckon I'll go sit outside in the backyard for a few moments and will do the daily crossword.

Lately.

I've had this recurring thought. I'm not sure I'm meant for this life.

This isn't a mid-life crisis or existential crisis or dissatisfaction with what I've got going on. I'm quite satisfied with what I've got going on, more or less. It's not angst-driven.

It's more like thinking that if I didn't have these parents, if I hadn't made these decisions, I would be an entirely different person. I would be a tattooed up baker, in a large city who wore matte red lipstick everyday and had blunt cut bangs. I would be a jeweler at the sea, with long skirts, dirty feet and unwashed, ass-length hair in messy braids. I would be a writer in a garret, thriftstore chic and smoking foreign cigarettes. I would be someone else.

If I had more courage, more conviction, would I be more comfortable in my skin? Happier? Thinking that if I had different parents, made different decisions I would be the therapist with shiny lipgloss, many shoes and many cashmere cardigans?

I don't know. It's like peering into the looking glass, seeing something that was/is possible if not for the decisions made I didn't even know I was making. Possibilities out there that may not be better possibilities that what I have now, but different ones all the same. It's a disconcerting feeling, deep in my belly, that those possibilities are out there and I would be someone else.

I think I would like to know her. She sounds like fun.

(Apologies for the dramatic use of italics. That's how it sounds in my mind.)

food blogging

Participated in the first of what is going to be a recurring series of brunches today. The plan (such as there is) being that we all meet every couple of weeks, bring food/drinks and eat/drink our way through the day.

Today's food* consisted of potato and egg (do all of them have eggs? is that redundant?) frittata; spinach (Fanny would have approved ), cheese and eggs casserole thingy; kielbasa (Polish sausage thingy); an extremely yummy french toast (with raisins and berries); potato salad; bagels, cream cheese, salmon; homemade bread(s); cookies; various fruit dishes; homemade chocolate cookies; 4 bottles of champagnes (with associated fixings for mimosas and bellinis); vodka (with fixings for Bloody Mary); daiquiri (with fresh strawberries).

We sat around, ate and drank and talked about jobs, schooling, punctuation, films, media, and just general silliness. An excellent time was had by all.

Btw, no prizes for guessing my contribution to this endeavour**. In the future, though, I plan to make the only brekkie dish I do know how to make: pikelets.

I'll put up pictures if I can snag them off one of the others.


* I apologise here for my lack of knowledge of food names/compositions.
** Alcohol, of course.

next stop: cover of Vogue

Fanny's inspired me to do some non-fluffy blogging. Hopefully. But not now. Not this week when I have over 30 twenty-page papers to grade by Friday and a journal issue to finish editing (due to publishers' by next week, thanks) and a chapter to finish revising (due to advisor also by next week).

So what do I do when not wondering whether a quick trip to the local cave to be a hermit might not be a bad idea after all? I do online tests. I'm actually rather obsessed by online tests. I take them wherever and whenever I can. And, sometimes, they turn out funny.

Fanny will prob laugh her fanny off at this (I promise I didn't actually lie about any of the answers. I think the test is broken):

Catwalk God(ess) 64% Flamboyance, 67% Originality, 52% Deliberateness, 59% Sexiness

[Flamboyant Original Deliberate Sexy] You know fashion inside out but you're far from being its slave. To you fashion is what you decide to wear. You've got great, if unconventional, taste and plenty of courage to put your ideas into practice, which inspires admiration; but few have guts to copycat you. I suppose it doesn't worry you because to you originality counts. You are self-confident, perhaps even arrogant, and consider a day wasted when no one gives you an interested or shocked look. Great job. The opposite style from yours is Librarian [Tasteful Conventional Random Prissy]. All the categories: Librarian Sporty Hottie Office Master Uptown Girl/ Boy Brainy Student Movie Star Fashionista Glamorous Soul Fashion Enemy Bar Cruiser Kid Next Door Sex Bomb Hippie Kid Fashion Rebel Fashion Artist Catwalk God(ess)

This test tracked 4 variables. How the score compared to the other people's:

	Higher than 87% on Flamboyance
	Higher than 85% on Originality
	Higher than 30% on Deliberateness
	Higher than 67% on Sexiness

Link: The Fashion Style Test written by mari-e on Ok Cupid View My Profile(mari-e)

Juvenile Humour Alert

But it's punctuation! and teh sex!!

Best of all, you can buy this on a t-shirt for less than $10.

when football is just not enough

So, I ended up at a Happy Hour gig yesterday with a mate who writes reviews for an online site, her friend who is a regular blogger (but about cool non Colin Firth Penis stuff), and a few other people, all involved in creative endeavours such as writing, journalisting and theatre-ing.

I don't remember much of the two hours I spent there except:
a) I was told I was "very cheerful. Not like you"
b) I patted a bloke on his arm a few times (no, I'd not met the bloke before)
c) I asked about wedding etiquette, we discussed shaving bits and pieces (consensus=boys shouldn't do it),
d) I recall someone taking their top off to show a (shaved) nipple.
e) I shamelessly pimped out Chiwetel Ejiofor, even though his new film is about grown men beating each other up.

All this was the result of my having spent the previous 3 hours, watching Liverpool lose in the most annoying style (oh WHY did they play like they had huge concrete blocks on their feet throughout the first half? WHY?) and now having to face the prospect of a Chelsea-Man Utd Champions League final.

Gah.

When I said "nothing", I don't think it was meant literally

Yesterday: Start of a New Year (or, as people call it, "NYE")

My activities: Starting at 6pm, I had dinner with my landladies (76-year old and 54-year old), 3 dogs and a housemate.
At 8pm, we opened up a bottle of champagne and toasted the New Year. Landladies told us that they weren't planning on staying up till midnight to do so and that "it must be midnight somewhere"*. After this, like most young people, my roommate headed out to party.

Me? I headed upstairs to my room, (re)watched the entire series of North&South, posted here (see yesterday's post) and went to sleep.

If that doesn't qualify as doing nothing then I don't know what does.

I should also remind Fanny that she's not an Accountant in Afghanistan (despite what her profile says). Though if any of yous are looking for Afghani accountants**, I'm sure we can play the part for you.



* And to think Mr. Buffett made a very similar point but probably with different intentions.

** Blogger appears to think that, since neither of us provided full details of where we allegedly are (I have updated mine) on our profiles, we were both Afghani accountants.