So we're on a new server, here. I just spent the day copying and pasting all the old Diaryland entries over here -- the move isn't done yet, I still need to add my links and such, but I didn't want to put off updating any longer. Now, if I could only remember all the stuff I had to say...
You all know that last entry was written with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek, right? I'm not pining away, or horribly depressed, or anything like that. I was just having a good, silly sulk.
The past week has been insanely busy at work -- that doesn't look like it'll change anytime soon, though, so I should just get used to it. By the time I get home, all I want to do is collapse on my bed and watch mindless television until I fall asleep -- which is one big reason why I've been so lazy about updating lately.
This weekend was mostly productive -- Friday I went shopping for socks after work (man, I do live the wild life, don't I?!?) and then went home and let the TV rot my brain. Saturday I woke up far too early, but still managed to loaf around in my pajamas until noon or so. Finally got myself into the shower, and went to the laundromat. Normally I like doing laundry -- it's relaxing and all -- but Saturday, it was just icky. There was a woman there with four young girls -- elementary school age, mostly. I can safely say they were the stinkiest kids I have ever encountered -- I don't know what they'd been eating, but every few minutes, the stench would get so nasty I'd have to go sit outside. And I have an older brother, so farts don't normally phase me!
Once they collected their laundry and left, a very strange man came and sat next to me. I was just trying to read, minding my own business -- I didn't really need a weird guy staring at me intently, while licking his lips and wiggling his legs around. I finally gave up and went outside to wait for my dryer to finish.
Beth went on a cleaning binge Saturday afternoon -- I helped as much as I could, without getting in the way. The bug was catching -- I put all the laundry away, changed the bedsheets, vacuumed and mopped the floor, changed the cat litter, and cleaned all the crap out of my junk drawer (three issues of People magazine? Outdated coupons? This is the stuff I consider important enough to hang on to?) and gleefully shredded all the pictures of Barry I found.
Once the apartment was sparkling, Beth and I went to get the last touches for her Halloween costume. I was all set with mine -- I did the "multiple personalities" thing -- regular clothes, with name tags stuck all over, each with a different name. It turned out to be a lot more annoying than I'd expected it to be. More on that later. Came home, got dressed, and headed to Cambridge, to a friend of Beth's. The party was... well, dull. I didn't know anyone -- that's usually not a bad thing. Get a beer or two into me, and I'll chat with anybody at all. But these people all knew each other, and really weren't interested in meeting anyone new. Mostly I got asked "So how did you meet Beth?" and ignored. The name tags weren't sticking to my clothes very well, so I started peeling them off pretty early -- telling Beth that I was just integrating the personalities one by one. We headed for home at around midnight (or 11, since we changed the clocks as soon as we got home.) Watched still more TV, and went to sleep.
Eric called Sunday morning, and we had a good, giggly conversation. I don't have the faintest memory what we talked about, except his job (which he hates, at the moment) and the odd (but kind of tasty-sounding) ravioli concoction he was making. Whatever silliness we discussed took about an hour... I'm really glad, now, that I sent him that letter. The conversations we have now are much better, much more fun -- that weird tension is gone, and we're just really good buddy-type friends again. Makes me happier than anything -- I hated the tension, and I'd rather have just gone through the awkwardness of telling him how I felt than ignore it.
It's pitch dark outside, and I have ten minutes left at work... I like this time of year, when it's crisp and cold, and all the leaves are falling. Yesterday, while waiting for Lee to pick me up (so she could get me started on this journal move, because she's so damn cool) I sat out on the step in the first snow of the year. It wan't terribly cold, so the flakes weren't sticking -- I could have sat there all evening, very happily.
Time to leave work now -- hopefully this move will be done soon!
When I grow up, I shall be a spinster librarian. I will have many cats -- at least a dozen or two, and they will follow me everywhere I go. We will live in a great old Gothic mansion, dark and gloomy and surrounded by oddly-shaped, eerie trees. My cats an I will rarely be seen; the local children will make up ghost stories about my house, and dare each other to venture onto my porch on Halloween night. On moonless nights, my cats and I will dress in our finest, and wander the streets singing strange little songs. Passersby will shudder, and cross the street to avoid us. I will be a mysterious old thing -- no one will know my name, or where I came from, or why I'm so damn weird.
Okay, so I'm feeling a bit sorry for myself today. Nobody loves me, I'm just going to go sit in this corner and eat some worms, okay?
Sunday morning was a bit of a one-two punch, emotionally. I was supposed to be calling Eric, to see what he made of that ill-advised letter I sent him (confessing true love, oh jeez...) As I sat down to call him, I realized I was nearly out of cigarettes, so, knowing this would be a conversation requiring much smoking, I headed out to buy a pack. My landlord was outside cleaning up some leaves, and I stopped to chat. He said "So you know Barry's moved away." I hadn't known that. I don't know why he would have thought I knew that. Apparently he moved "out West," whatever that means. Hopefully it means some other continent west of North America, and not, say, a town two miles west of Chelsea. It must have been a recent move, because my roommate saw him just last week -- she stopped in at his workplace for something, forgetting that he was there. (She made sure she gave him a dirty look or two for me.)
I shouldn't care, right? I knew he would leave the area -- I expected im to move back to England. I suspect that the only reason he stayed was because of the divorce hearing. I told the landlord that I was glad he'd left, because I won't have to worry about running into him on the street anymore. And that's true, and I'm relieved, but still... my brain keeps asking annoying questions. I wonder where he moved to? He had a friend in Sacramento, I wonder if he moved there... he doesn't have a car or a license, though, so how did he manage it? And did he move away with some other girl? Did he leave because he can't go anywhere without seeing something that reminds him of us, just like me?
So. Went to the store, got the cigarettes, and went home to call Eric -- whose reaction to my letter was "The hell? Where did THIS come from?" It was actually a very good conversation -- it started off serious, then turned silly, then got serious again, and finally degenerated into very goofy name-calling and teasing over who could kick whose ass -- "I could kick your ass with one hand tied behind my back!" "My mom could kick your ass!""Oh, yeah? Well, my cat could kick your ass, blindfolded and with one paw behind her back!!" Silliness. I was serious right up until the part where he said he didn't want me to pine for him -- pine? "PINE?!? I pine for no man!!"
So, yeah. An emotionally-weird weekend. I ended it with watching High Fidelity with Lee, which left me wishing I had a slacker John Cusack type waiting for me at home. (Didn't help that his wardrobe and haircut made him look an awful lot like one of my exes...) Good movie, though. Hey, you know, all this moping is starting to cheer me up...
Have I mentioned that I photograph horribly? That something very strange happens to my head whenever there's a camera aimed anywhere near it? It's true -- check out the photos Joanne took while she was here. The hell? The one where I look murderous made me laugh so hard I almost snorked coffee onto my computer. The others, even the ones where I was posing all nice, just make me look like a big freak! I don't look like that, I swear!
I'm thinking of holding a caption contest for the picture where I look so evil -- best caption wins some sort of prize.
Last night was the belated divorce party with my friend Dana -- I met her at work (Charlie's Kitchen, in Harvard Square) and we headed to the upstairs bar. Much drinking ensued -- Mike's Lemonade with some sort of raspberry stuff, yum... it's like you're not drinking alcohol at all! Which can be a bad thing... luckily, we were both too poor to get too sloshed. The two shots of Red Death didn't help, though, especially since they taste just like Kool-Aid.
It was a lot of fun -- we talked and giggled and talked more, getting progressively sillier as the evening wore on. A guy she knew came in, and we went and flirted outrageously with him. (He was terribly cute, but alas, has a girlfriend. Sigh. Apparently I told him he was adorable several times, making him blush and stammer a lot.) I headed for home at around 11:30 or so -- I was very tired, having been up since 5:30 that morning, and taking the bus to Chelsea at night can be a bit iffy. Got to Haymarket, waited and waited and waited for the bus, and by the time it showed up, I was nearly asleep on my feet. Sat down, put on headphones loud so I'd stay awake... and promptly fell soundly asleep. I woke up when the bus reached the opposite end of its run, about a mile from my house. Once it sunk in where I was ("Oh, shit! Woodlawn?!?") I slunk up to the front and asked the driver how long it would be before she headed back toward Boston. She said it would be about 45 minutes ("CRAP!!") so I explained, with much blushing, that I'd fallen asleep and missed my stop. She laughed, said she'd done that herself a few times, and, after making me swear I wouldn't tell a soul, she turned the bus around and drove me home. Staggered up the stairs, fell into bed, and had weird, unpleasant dreams all night -- in one, the divorce judge decided that he wasn't going to let Barry and I split up unless we agreed to live together for six more months. I don't remember the others, but that one was very vivid, and made me wake up very unhappy, until I realized it was just a dream, and an absurd one at that.
Just got a grocery delivery, so I'm going to cook some meatballs and then head off to town for find a birthday present for my mom.
I'm fighting sleepiness of here. I think it's a losing battle -- it's a result of a good weekend though, so it's okay. Joanne and Louise visited from Nova Scotia, and we had a sort of mini-JournalCon II. I met them in Kendall Square Friday night (approaching the bench they were sitting on warily, thinking "Is that them? It looks like they're waiting... but they're looking at me funny... maybe it's not them, and they think I'm some weirdo coming to accost them...") until Joanne stood up and smiled and there were introductions all around. I liked both of them very much, instantly -- I had expected I would, but I'm generally not good at meeting people. I get all shy and awkward -- not so with them, since they're both so friendly and personable it's impossible to feel ill at ease. We dropped off their bags, and headed off to find the costume shop near Chinatown where my Halloween costume was waiting to be picked up. (I hate Halloween. Have I mentioned that? I loathe dressing up. But I promised to go to a costume party. Feh.)
I managed to get us onto the wrong train heading home -- I live here, and still get turned around on the subway. Hello, I am a dimwit. But we'd been talking away -- about eye injuries, I think -- and I led us down the wrong stairway. Easily fixed. Once home, we talked more until we were fainting from hunger, so we headed out to order a huge amount of Chinese takeout. Stayed up too late talking -- about all sorts of things, hopping from subject to subject, until my throat was getting sore. They're both way too much fun to talk to, I'm telling you.
Saturday morning (late, as I slept later than anyone else) we headed into Boston to hit the observatory in the Hancock Tower and then to meet Caiomhe and Columbine in Goverment Center. Columbine brought his fiance, and Caiohme brought friends (whose names I'm not sure of, because I am terrible at remembering things like that), so our little group swelled to eight. I had gotten cheap passes to the Aquarium from work, so we went and cooed over the little blue penguins (I was plotting to sneak one home -- it would have fit nicely in my bag, and could have lived in my bathtub!) and looked at all the fish, and saw the sea lion show and the otters and seals. I like the Aquarium a lot, and it's always fun to go with people who haven't seen it before. They're always adding to it, so I never get tired of going.
Once we had seen all the fishies, we went looking for food, and ended up in The Black Rose, an Irish pub (which was filled with people wearing name tags and cheering a lot -- from the air of desperate flirtation, I'd say it was a singles group, eek!) It was nice getting a chance to talk to Caiohme and Columbine, since I hadn't had much time to at JournalCon. Caiohme and I kept slipping off to the bar to smoke and chat -- she's as cute as a button, and I'm very sad that she lives so far away.
Columbine and Debbie had to leave for a birthday party, so the rets of us said goodbye and went off in search of an open music store. We ended up on Newbury Street at Tower Records, where I caved in and bought the new Radiohead CD. I was trying to hold out for Christmas, but I kept hearing such good things about it that I just couldn't wait. Caiohme's friends didn't find what they wanted, though, so it wasn't a totally successful trip. Got some coffee across the street, and then it was time for Caiohme and hers to head off for the bus station. Joanne and Louise and I went home, where my roommate was having a small dinner party -- she's been apple-picking earlier, and had had some friends over to bake apple pies. One of the friends -- I didn't actually meet any of them -- had a terribly precocious and adorable three-year-old boy, who greeted us each at the door with "Who are you?" He immediately decided that we were his new best friends (though Louise was most certainly his favorite) and began an elaborate game of make-believe, with us as the central characters. We were apparently all on a spaceship, flying around and meeting "nice monsters." (There were red ones, and blue ones, and purple ones with antlers! And he was a giant pickle, Joanne was an alien robot in the shape of a triangle, and Louise and I were just your average green aliens.) He was very entertaining to listen to -- not only was he keeping his storylines straight (good thing he could, because I was lost), but he was just really sharp verbally. At one point, he sneezed, and said very earnestly "I have a terrible cold." (Hee! Cute!) Later, when his mother was trying to get him into the kitchen to eat, he told us very seriously "I'll be back shortly. Keep the ship going." When Beth passed through the living room on her way to the bathroom, he told her "I'm playing with these girls. Could you please go away?" My eyes were watering from trying not to laugh at that point -- he was so sharp, he would have noticed I was giggling at him. As cute as he was, I bet he's a handful at home -- though he's going to be brilliant when he grows up.
The three of us stayed up too late talking again (about silly porno movies and telemarketing, among other things) and finally staggered off to bed at around 2 a.m. By the time I woke up and got my lazy self into the shower this morning, there was only time to hit the McDonald's down the street from my house for lunch, and then they had to head for the airport. Beth very nicely offered to drive us there, so we stopped off at her boyfriend's mother's house briefly (there are many kids, and cats, and bunnies, and birds of all sorts there. We took pictures of them all for some reason.) Now I'm wishing Nova Scotia was closer to Boston, because I'd love to spend more time with them both.
I spent the evening in the laundromat, listening to Kid A on my Diskman. It's a fantastic album, though a bit depressing. I tried to read while listening, but just couldn't -- the music kept making me close my eyes, lean back, and just let it absorb me. I hardly even registered the rather ugly fight going on between the woman who runs the laundromat and a very obnoxious man, until the police showed up to escort him out. (Apparently, he'd started taking someone's clothes out of a washing machine that was still running, even though there were lots of other washers available. She asked him to stop, and he called her rude names, so she told him to leave. He refused, she took his bag of laundry and put it outside, and the fight was on -- just shouting on his part, and a lot of obscenities, but he was very large, and was making threats, so it was a bit unsettling. The woman who works there is older, but she doesn't put up with crap like that, and held her own. When the police came, I offered to give a statement about the threats he'd been making, but they said it wasn't necessary.) Now I'm home, feeling very tired, but happy, and wishing the weekend wasn't over. (And no, I haven't heard back from Eric yet. Damn, but I wish I could get that letter back...)
I don't think I'm going to recap Day Three of JournalCon -- there are a ton of other entries already written, and they're all good, so go read 'em. I will say, however, that I met a whole lot of really cool people, and wished the weekend was longer. I'm hoping to keep in touch with the folks I met there, and my list of bookmarked journals has grown just about out of control...
Joanne and her friend Louise are visiting Boston this weekend, hooray! I'm meeting up with them after work tonight, and, after a scenic trip to pick up my Halloween costume (don't even ask. I #@%$#@ hate dressing up for Halloween) we're going to be touristy all weekend. Initially, it was just going to be the three of us, but Caoimhe will be in town, with two friends, and we'll be meeting up with Columbine tomorrow. It's almost a mini-JournalCon! Joanne and Louise have never been to Boston, so I'll be playing tour guide. I love showing people around -- it gives me a chance to do all the tourist stuff, and it's very enjoyable to see the city through someone else's eyes -- I notice things I normally would take for granted. So it ought to be a fun weekend -- though no one will be allowed anywhere near my room, it's so damned messy. JournalCon and schoolwork kept me from doing any laundry or cleaning, so my room even disgusts me. Maybe I can at least sneak in and change the litterbox without anyone noticing...
I'm kind of feeling like I should just link to all the much better JournalCon recaps out there -- the whole weekend is starting to turn into a blur for me already. (Haven't quite caught up on my sleep just yet.)
Let's see, we left off with the end of the hellishly-long trip to Pittsburgh, right? I'd collapsed in bed, leaving a note on the door for my roommate Jan (who was presumably out having fun somewhere) explaining why I had arrived so late, and was unconscious in bed rather than meeting her. I think I vaguely heard her come in at some point, but couldn't wake up long enough to say hello. Woke up at seven the next morning, and we chatted a bit while getting ready to go down to the "informal breakfast" -- which was so informal it was just a bunch of sleepy people sitting in the lobby eating bagels from the shop in the hotel. Grabbed some food and coffee, and sat and talked a bit. (I don't really remember who was there, except Patrick and Melissa. Sorry to anyone else who was there -- I was too sleepy to remember. Finished eating, and headed off to the first session -- Carolyn Burke and Diane Patterson talking about the history of online journals. My first impression was, "Damn, Carolyn's gorgeous!" She's also a very engaging speaker, and, as I learned later, really nice as well. Diane is an excellent speaker as well, and has a terribly cute and happy baby.
The next session was on coding for journals -- which, I have to say, gave me a massive inferiority complex. Everybody else does their own HTML, of course, and I'm still a lazy-ass who hasn't learned enough yet, so I use Dairyland. Whine whine whine. The session itself was good, though.
After the two morning sessions, a huge group headed out to a nearby restaurant for lunch -- we had to walk through a parade (shockingly, NOT in our honor) and Melissa damn near got run over by a bus, but we eventually made it. Spent lunchtime chatting with Dreama and Amanda and a whole lot of other people (I'm getting old and senile, I swear). Amanda's a riot. I had sort of met her at Patrick's cast party a few weeks back, but for some reason had barely had a chance to talk to her. She's way too much fun. Dreama's very animated -- I could sit and listen to her tell stories all afternoon, very happily.
The afternoon sessions were excellent too -- readings by Patrick and Margaret and Rob and Dana and Terry. I was wishing that there had been more time allotted for readings -- it seems logical that just about everyone would want to read, and two short sessions just weren't enough.
The next session was my favorite by far -- Patrick and Dreama discussing how much they choose to reveal in their journals, and why. Patrick changed the format a little -- rather than having everyone sit in rows looking at the podium, he had us pull the chairs into a circle, so everyone could talk. It was fascinating, and I was sad when it was over.
Mostly, I spent the first day feeling very star-struck -- lots of staring at people, lots of little "Wow!" moments -- "Holy crap, Beth knew my name! And I don't even have a name tag yet!" "Ohmygod, Pamie just spoke to me!" (I did, barely, refrian from squealing like a 12-year-old at her first Backstreet Boys concert, thank you... barely.) I'm sure it would be more interesting if I were dishing a big ol' pile of dirt about people, but I really just liked everyone I met. I was extremely happy to have finally met Molly Zero and Columbine -- it's silly that I haven't before, being as we're all from Boston. Pamie's just as cool as I expected her to be. Shelley just rocks. Emily is the friendliest person I've ever met. And I so wish Jan didn't live so far away -- she'd be very cool to hang out with more often. I'm leaving a ton of people out. It was just a bit overwhelming. And now, since I'm sneakily updating at work, I'd better go try to at least look busy. Next entry will cover Day Three...
Yawn... got home from JournalCon at 3 o'clock this morning. I just woke up, and am making my way through my first cup of coffee, while a very happy cat sits on my foot. (She missed me, apparently.) I'm still processing the weekend -- it was way too much fun. Met way too many cool people. Dude, Pamie hugged me. I'm still startstruck. Patrick already has three good entries up, so go read him. He's coherant, which is more than can be said for me right now.
First off -- the trip to Pittsburgh. Patrick and Melissa (can't do links yet, too tired.) picked me up at around 9 on Friday morning, and we headed out, all bright-eyed and excited. It was a good drive, much conversation and fun -- I hadn't spent much time one-on-one with Patrick, and had wanted to. I hadn't met Melissa at all. She's a lot of fun, very friendly and easy to talk to. Took shifts driving, didn't make many stops... at one rest area, I found a vending machine on the wall of the women's restroom that dispensed "mixed adult novelties." I should have bought one, just to see exactly what sort of adult novelties one can get from a bathroom vending machine in the middle of nowhere. However, the pen of goats right outside the bathroom startled me a little too much to take the risk. Everything went smoothly, until we stopped at a rest area and noticed that one of Melissa's tires was a little low. No big deal, right? We'll just5 go get some air! Went to a gas station, where we noticed a nasty, burning-rubber smell coming from the engine, which was rattling and shaking. I don't know a damn thing about cars, but I knew something was very wrong. Turned out to be the compressor. Patrick and I stood around looking worried while Melissa talked to the very nice gas station owner. He couldn't fix it, so he called a buddy of his ( mentioning that he "might be out in the field, huntin') to come over and look. The buddy, who we dubbed George (I have no idea whether that was his name or not) came over, bringing his big, stinky hunting dogs with him -- one of them was friendly, and the other... well, all George would say was "Don't touch that one," in a rather dire voice. The dog in question looked very friendly, but that may have been a ruse. George said he couldn't fix the car, much to our dismay. Patrick and I decided to see if we could rent a car, so we could at least get the hell out of Milesburgh, PA. Called the airport, reserved a nice big Chevy Blazer, and George offered to drive us out to pick it up. (Patrick decribed the ride so much better than I can -- suffice it to say, it was very long, and Patrick got to sit in the back being drooled on by the big stinky dogs, while I sat in front and listened to George talk about how the staff of his grandmother's nursing home keeps stealing her underwear.) Got the car, and I made George take $20 for his trouble. It really was nice of him to drive us there -- after all, he could have just handed us the phone book and suggested we call a cab. Went back, got Melissa (who was sitting and looking very pitiful on a pile of our luggage) and got back on the road -- but we made the mistake of listening to the gas station owner, who told us not to get back on the interstate, but to take a little highway instead. A shortcut, he told us. "It'll knock fifty, sixty miles off your trip," he said. It was a two-lane blacktop, speed limit 45 most of the way, past some very scary strip clubs, and with nine thousand stop lights, all of which were red. After an hour or so, we were in fits of bitter, hysterical laughter, punctuated by cries of "We just want to meet Pamie! Took us, I think, four and a half hours or so to finally get to Pittsburgh. We'd missed the opening dinner entirely, and were really to tired to care. Patrick and Melissa (once they sorted out their nonexistant hotel reservations) got a message from JournalCon's organizer, telling us to meet the whole crew at a club down the street -- a club none of the hotle staff had ever heard of. We wandered around looking for it fora while, then gave up and went back to the hotel. Melissa and I were desperately in need to a stiff drink, so we all went to the hotel bar, where we met Greg (again, no link. Too sleepy. Sorry. All the JournalCon folks are listed on the web page -- I'll link tomorrow or something.) Waited around in the lobby for a while, hoping someone would show up, then gave up and went to bed. I left a note on the door for my roommate, who was out having fun, explaining that it took us more than 14 hours to get there, and I would meet her in the morning when I was awake and alert. Fell into bed, and was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
To be continued...
I can SEE!! It's a miracle!! I got new contacts today -- I never knew my old ones were so crappy. I mean, I knew they were crappy, but I didn't know they were that bad. Did you know trees actually have individual leaves? They're not just big green blurs? It's true! And street signs have words on them! Will wonders never cease. I'm sure Patrick and Melissa will be happy, since we're all travelling to JournalCon together, and I'm helping with the driving. Heh.
I've had a really sore throat since Saturday (hey, I have a fun trip coming up, I'm bound to get sick). No fever, nothing bad like that, just a nasty sore throat. On Sunday morning my right tonsil was swollen and covered with oozing yellow things you don't even want to know about. Oh, I just told you, didn't I? I'm evil that way... it's better now, a little. I can talk without pain, and I can almost swallow without wincing. I spent an hour sitting in the doctor's waiting room, only to have him spend about 30 seconds looking at it, then tell me "It's probably a virus. Gargle with salt water and get some rest." Um, hi, I knew to do that. Contrary to appearances, I'm not a complete idiot.
I don't have much else to say, really. I'm looking forward to JournalCon -- I'm hoping to meet a lot of other journallers I admire a whole lot. (I'll be easy to spot -- I'll be the star-struck one wandering around with her mouth hanging open, or pointing at people and saying "Oh, my God, it's...you! Hee!