I am still in Chicago. It is still cold sometimes. Though sometimes it is actually quite warm, in fact, I ran around on Saturday in flip flops. Well, technically, I did not run. I kind of meandered slowly to and from brunch trying not to move my head around too much as I was still recouperating from the previous night's shennanigans...
A Back Story:
I am fairly apathetic when it comes to vampires and vampire lore. I never read Dracula or a single Anne Rice book, I never saw any of the movies, I think I've only ever put in those fake teeth once...
I bought The Historian because it was on sale for $7.99 in hardback at Borders and a great deal of people had told me it was an excellent book. I think I had some idea in the back of my mind that it was about Dracula but I was mostly focused on how it was supposed to be good and I needed a new book to read.
Fast forward to the past week where I have been racing through The Historian like a monster (it helps that I have no job, no friends and no real responsibilites to speak of). I started having the craziest dreams. None of them were nightmares about vampires or really had anything to do with the undead at all, but I found corellations between the dreams and things that were happening in the book. Example: Many of the places that they visit are large castles/monestaries that are near large bodies of water. I started having dreams about large bodies of water and walking around in huge buildings (ie castles) and they didn't so much scare me as totally freak me out. I am really enjoying the book and learning all this fun new stuff.
Jump to Friday when I am going out with a friend from NYC, E and all of her new PhD buddies. We start drinking at like 5 which, I am now realizing wasn't the greatest idea ever. But we needed to catch up, and by catch up I mean get really drunk with each other and retell all our favorite scandalous South Africa stories (and between the two of us, there are a bunch). We drink at a resturant, then at a bar, then we end up at this club that looks and feels like a Midwestern rip off of a tres-trendy bar in NYC, both named Apartment (well, technically in NYC its called Apt. but whatever). So we're drunk and dancing and generally having a great time and E starts dancing with a guy and wanders off with him. Her friend comes up and asks where she is and I say, "Oh [E]? I think she ran off with a vampire."
Yea, it kinda just came out like that and I spent the rest of the night very sure that this kid was a vampire. Not joking, I actually was dead serious that this kid (who was Eastern European and had a dark sinister look to him) was a real actual vampire. This deep seated belief in me probably had something to do with the 7 or so beers I'd had that evening; but it was still there.
And so THEN! (Yea, there's more. Sorry, this story is totally for Courtney, who could have just gotten it in an e-mail, but its pretty hysterically ridiculous, I figured I should share it with the general public) last night A and K, my guardians/landlords throw a dinner party and they and all their approaching-middle-age-ish friends get trashed. So I join in and we're running through bottles of wine like they're water and we're in the Sahara and someone holds up a bottle and the first thing that comes to my mind is, "Thats vampire wine." I manage to keep the thought to myself (but just barely) but can not stop staring at the label and I'm thinking, "Seriously, that is vampire wine."
And so we're gonna see how long this vampire trend lasts...and fyi, the ending of the book? So very, very disappointing. Also, my godmother and I are all wrapped up in the fact that Elizabeth Kostova is way, way, way too pretty to be a librarian.
Anyway. My first week and a half in Chicago have been a success. I have a job that starts in early November teaching dance, theatre and gymnastics to 1-8th graders and if you know anything about me, you know this is one of the most perfect jobs for me ever. Tragically it's only about 6 hours a week and so I do need a second job for which I am "searching" (I really am, but it doesn't actually feel like work since I don't get up until 11:30 and I do it in my pajamas). Now that I can use the internet in my house (sometimes, right now it's kind of being a bitch) I don't even really have a reason to get out of my pajamas ever for awhile I was going to the public library, and for that I felt I should put on some pants, if only because vampires are way more likely to come after you if you live in your pajamas.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Monday, October 16, 2006
rainy day sunshine
Chicago is cold. It is cold cold cold. Now that I have accepted this I can move onto other things. The starting is slow here. Today was my first actual day that didn't feel like a vacation. It was as productive as one can expect with my affinity towards procrastination.
I am maybe-sorta-probably enrolled in the coolest sounding acting class ever.
I have two potential improv classes that I'm waiting to hear back from before I sign up.
I have a job application from the 'Bucks... my reasoning for such a low-esteemed job being as follows: health insurance, flexable schedule, health insurance, close to my house, health insurance, free coffee, health insurance, v. little thinking involved, and health insurance.
Tragically none of my acting classes will start before the end of the month (unless I end up in one of the improv classes that starts this week, in which case I will have really jumpstarted things).
I still need to find a headshot photographer, but Annie and Kevin say they have a guy who will do it well and for cheap which is nice because neither food nor acting classes grow on trees aparently.
I already miss living with people my own age, although I'm sure this will change once I get out there and make friends. There's a concert tonight, one of my new favs is singing and yet, I'm probably not gonna go, simply because the codependent in me can not imagine what one does when they go to a show by themeselves.
I'm getting impatient, simply because thats one of my habits, but I've done okay for one day...Also, the mere idea of taking a circus class is gonna keep me feeling warm and snuggly until I actually get to take it.
I am maybe-sorta-probably enrolled in the coolest sounding acting class ever.
I have two potential improv classes that I'm waiting to hear back from before I sign up.
I have a job application from the 'Bucks... my reasoning for such a low-esteemed job being as follows: health insurance, flexable schedule, health insurance, close to my house, health insurance, free coffee, health insurance, v. little thinking involved, and health insurance.
Tragically none of my acting classes will start before the end of the month (unless I end up in one of the improv classes that starts this week, in which case I will have really jumpstarted things).
I still need to find a headshot photographer, but Annie and Kevin say they have a guy who will do it well and for cheap which is nice because neither food nor acting classes grow on trees aparently.
I already miss living with people my own age, although I'm sure this will change once I get out there and make friends. There's a concert tonight, one of my new favs is singing and yet, I'm probably not gonna go, simply because the codependent in me can not imagine what one does when they go to a show by themeselves.
I'm getting impatient, simply because thats one of my habits, but I've done okay for one day...Also, the mere idea of taking a circus class is gonna keep me feeling warm and snuggly until I actually get to take it.
Saturday, October 14, 2006
Sweet Home Chicago
Okay, I'm officially (well, as officially as I'll ever be) a resident of the fine city of Chicago. I have a bedroom, housemates (my godmother and her boyfriend, both supercool) and 3 cats (Squid, Agnes and Miller). I have two tentative dates with the closest thing to friends I have in the city. So far I've found dill pickle potato chips and diet Cherry Coke in a 20 oz bottle, plus a winter coat, boots, and a really great thrift store. On my first morning it snowed and hailed as a little test to see if I would run screaming back into the warm embrace of Maryland. But nope...I'm a little stronger than that.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
I Hate Moving, part 34573458
I am *giant exhale of relief* done packing for the 4th time since late May. I am still in my pjs, I stink, and I've been mainlining coke zero and caramel hershey kisses for the past 48 hours but it doesn't really matter because tomorrow I embark on yet another journey into the unknown.
This journey is a little different...first of all, I'm moving to a new time zone! I will be all alone in this new world of everything-one-hour-earlier. Everyone I love sits comfortably in Eastern while I'll be out there in Mountain or Central or one of those middle ones. Plus, I have NO safety net. This will be the first move where I have no job, or school, or given purpose for being there. For the first time in my whole (very short) life I'll have to find my own purpose.
Thats kind of fucking terrifying.
But I'll be fine. I had a wonderful last week in the Eastern standard thanks to Courtney, Daniel Vosovic, Jon, the casts of Carmen (the opera) and The Last King of Scotland (the movie), various delivery men in Queens, Uggs, the crepe guys, the fine people at Gap, Tierra, Lizzie, Niki, the bartender at Fado, Annie, Taryn, Moira and the folks over at the Monocacy Goodwill.
And Courtney gets one more shout out for not passing judgement on the Uggs, the fact I wear kids clothes, the fact that I flipped my shit over Daniel Vosovic, the fact that I have to change clothes like 6 times and many more things I'm sure.
This journey is a little different...first of all, I'm moving to a new time zone! I will be all alone in this new world of everything-one-hour-earlier. Everyone I love sits comfortably in Eastern while I'll be out there in Mountain or Central or one of those middle ones. Plus, I have NO safety net. This will be the first move where I have no job, or school, or given purpose for being there. For the first time in my whole (very short) life I'll have to find my own purpose.
Thats kind of fucking terrifying.
But I'll be fine. I had a wonderful last week in the Eastern standard thanks to Courtney, Daniel Vosovic, Jon, the casts of Carmen (the opera) and The Last King of Scotland (the movie), various delivery men in Queens, Uggs, the crepe guys, the fine people at Gap, Tierra, Lizzie, Niki, the bartender at Fado, Annie, Taryn, Moira and the folks over at the Monocacy Goodwill.
And Courtney gets one more shout out for not passing judgement on the Uggs, the fact I wear kids clothes, the fact that I flipped my shit over Daniel Vosovic, the fact that I have to change clothes like 6 times and many more things I'm sure.
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
And the moral of the story is...
*I posted this over on livejournal, but then realized its much more fun and less dreary than my last post, so it's going here too.
A moment can't be an actual moment unless some sort of learning happens. So as I sit surrounded by mounds and mounds of crap I apparently own, fending off the worst hangover ever (damn you tgi fridays), and refusing to be actually productive I give you some of the potential morals that came out of this summer:
Remember how fucking fabulous you are or no one else will.
Drinking tequila out of a water glass will probably cause you to make bad choices that'll make you feel really, really good.
Never believe the hype, particularly in regards to attractive guys, after parties, or $60 shirts.
A guy who thinks he dresses better, is probably a total fucking douche bag.
Wearing heels on cobblestones everyday does not make you a better person, infact, it makes you kind of stupid (Hello! They're cobblestones, why put your ankles through that?).
There is nothing wrong with hating someone for not being able to tell a story well.
There isn't anything wrong with getting up and walking out of the room in the middle of the never ending sucky story either.
Good friends take your keys, your cellphone and you out to lunch the day after they've put your drunk ass to bed.
Great friends don't make fun of you the next morning...after anything, except for maybe when you started throwing french fries.
The best friends don't judge even when you total deserve judgement.
Nice guys are probably actually only nice guys, like, 56% of the time. The rest of the time they're just as sucky as all the other ones who wear their suckiness on their sleeves.
A good night's sleep is probably better than whatever you're doing that keeps you up until 5:30 in the morning...probably...
Drunk text messaging is always a bad idea, even when it seems like a great idea.
Pinching people's butts to get their attention in the middle of a crowd works all the time.
Girls are funny, probably funnier than boys, its just that no one gives them a flippin' chance.
Wearing a captain's hat at a bar full of drunk, horny people will probably get you laid.
Being a girl in a bar full of drunk, horny people will probably get you laid.
Family can bond over anything, but hot doctors on TV are always the best bet.
A shot of Dr. McGillacudys (I'm not gonna pretend to know how to spell that) will never taste as good as you think it will. It will always taste like a shot of Aquafresh toothpaste....but you will do it anyway.
Wearing raggedy underwear when you go out increases the chances that someone will see them by about 40%.
Life is normally better after two or three Life is Goods.
Faraway friends are always the best for a little perspective.
There is nothing wrong with a redheaded slut. Or six for that matter.
An 'I hate penises' night every few months will do a girl some serious good.
If you throw a girl in a puddle, you will have to make out with her.
A moment can't be an actual moment unless some sort of learning happens. So as I sit surrounded by mounds and mounds of crap I apparently own, fending off the worst hangover ever (damn you tgi fridays), and refusing to be actually productive I give you some of the potential morals that came out of this summer:
Remember how fucking fabulous you are or no one else will.
Drinking tequila out of a water glass will probably cause you to make bad choices that'll make you feel really, really good.
Never believe the hype, particularly in regards to attractive guys, after parties, or $60 shirts.
A guy who thinks he dresses better, is probably a total fucking douche bag.
Wearing heels on cobblestones everyday does not make you a better person, infact, it makes you kind of stupid (Hello! They're cobblestones, why put your ankles through that?).
There is nothing wrong with hating someone for not being able to tell a story well.
There isn't anything wrong with getting up and walking out of the room in the middle of the never ending sucky story either.
Good friends take your keys, your cellphone and you out to lunch the day after they've put your drunk ass to bed.
Great friends don't make fun of you the next morning...after anything, except for maybe when you started throwing french fries.
The best friends don't judge even when you total deserve judgement.
Nice guys are probably actually only nice guys, like, 56% of the time. The rest of the time they're just as sucky as all the other ones who wear their suckiness on their sleeves.
A good night's sleep is probably better than whatever you're doing that keeps you up until 5:30 in the morning...probably...
Drunk text messaging is always a bad idea, even when it seems like a great idea.
Pinching people's butts to get their attention in the middle of a crowd works all the time.
Girls are funny, probably funnier than boys, its just that no one gives them a flippin' chance.
Wearing a captain's hat at a bar full of drunk, horny people will probably get you laid.
Being a girl in a bar full of drunk, horny people will probably get you laid.
Family can bond over anything, but hot doctors on TV are always the best bet.
A shot of Dr. McGillacudys (I'm not gonna pretend to know how to spell that) will never taste as good as you think it will. It will always taste like a shot of Aquafresh toothpaste....but you will do it anyway.
Wearing raggedy underwear when you go out increases the chances that someone will see them by about 40%.
Life is normally better after two or three Life is Goods.
Faraway friends are always the best for a little perspective.
There is nothing wrong with a redheaded slut. Or six for that matter.
An 'I hate penises' night every few months will do a girl some serious good.
If you throw a girl in a puddle, you will have to make out with her.
Monday, October 02, 2006
A little longer...
So I've had this old camp song running through my head the past few days. We always sang it at the last camp fire of the week and it always made me cry. I don't remember much of it but I remember the chorus:
Mmm-hmm I want to linger
Mmm-hmm A little longer
Mmm-hmm A little longer here with you
Mmm-hmm-hmm-hmmm
It's such a perfect night
Mmm-hmm It doesn't seem quite right
Mmm-hmm That it should be my last with you
Mmm-hmm-hmm-hmm
Its better when its actually sung, and even then there isn't much too it, but its kind of how I'm feeling. How I felt last night and this morning and now, as I sit in Logan Airport utilizing their very expensive wireless trying to figure out where my summer went.
It wasn't the most amazing summer, it wasn't everything I let myself dream it would be, but it was my summer. It helped me discover who I am and what I want and it got me ready for that big, scary world I'm heading out into.
The last month has been so strange. Ever since I came back from my brief sojurn to Maryland, everything has been slightly skewed and twisted and left me missing all the beautiful people I had been so anxious to leave to get back to my island paradise.
I've spent the last 30 days counting down to this moment and now that its here I realize that I didn't make the most of it when I had it. I should have said things, done things, spent less time in bed, spent less time in bars, made more bad choices, made more good choices, and really just experienced and embraced the time I was given instead of fighting it.
The fourteen days have lingered, perfumed with confusion and yelling and tears and (what else?) bad choices. They've just sat there, in bars, with half empty coronas and flip flops with long sleeved shirts.
Then last night it was the last night. The last night of laughing about jokes that aren't really funny, the last night of being mean, of stupid pictures and cheese-y waffle fries and I realized that that's all Nantucket it is. It's lingering. Nothing really happens. It's an island...what can happen??
My favorite nights on the island were spent doing nothing, being nowhere, and I didn't appreciate them until now...when they're gone.
I spend my whole life waiting for the next big thing to happen, even if it's as small as seeing naked McSteamy on my TV (OMG, can we discuss???) and antisipating whats gonna happen next week, and now I get that on Nantucket it's not about that. Its about lazy mornings, and "nantucket time" and appreciating what you're doing while its happening.
I'm gonna miss that little island out to sea. It made me smarter, sexier, sassier, funnier and more aware of how totally freaking awesome I am.
Mmm-hmm I want to linger
Mmm-hmm A little longer
Mmm-hmm A little longer here with you
Mmm-hmm-hmm-hmmm
It's such a perfect night
Mmm-hmm It doesn't seem quite right
Mmm-hmm That it should be my last with you
Mmm-hmm-hmm-hmm
Its better when its actually sung, and even then there isn't much too it, but its kind of how I'm feeling. How I felt last night and this morning and now, as I sit in Logan Airport utilizing their very expensive wireless trying to figure out where my summer went.
It wasn't the most amazing summer, it wasn't everything I let myself dream it would be, but it was my summer. It helped me discover who I am and what I want and it got me ready for that big, scary world I'm heading out into.
The last month has been so strange. Ever since I came back from my brief sojurn to Maryland, everything has been slightly skewed and twisted and left me missing all the beautiful people I had been so anxious to leave to get back to my island paradise.
I've spent the last 30 days counting down to this moment and now that its here I realize that I didn't make the most of it when I had it. I should have said things, done things, spent less time in bed, spent less time in bars, made more bad choices, made more good choices, and really just experienced and embraced the time I was given instead of fighting it.
The fourteen days have lingered, perfumed with confusion and yelling and tears and (what else?) bad choices. They've just sat there, in bars, with half empty coronas and flip flops with long sleeved shirts.
Then last night it was the last night. The last night of laughing about jokes that aren't really funny, the last night of being mean, of stupid pictures and cheese-y waffle fries and I realized that that's all Nantucket it is. It's lingering. Nothing really happens. It's an island...what can happen??
My favorite nights on the island were spent doing nothing, being nowhere, and I didn't appreciate them until now...when they're gone.
I spend my whole life waiting for the next big thing to happen, even if it's as small as seeing naked McSteamy on my TV (OMG, can we discuss???) and antisipating whats gonna happen next week, and now I get that on Nantucket it's not about that. Its about lazy mornings, and "nantucket time" and appreciating what you're doing while its happening.
I'm gonna miss that little island out to sea. It made me smarter, sexier, sassier, funnier and more aware of how totally freaking awesome I am.
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