42 posts tagged “everyday”
So, I finally feel somthing like fully human again. I'm still tired, and still have about a million things to do, but better would be an accurate way to describe how I'm feeling. I've still got a lot of entries to catch up on, and, well there are some that I should write about that I'm just not going to get to. P-funk's birthday party is something that should definitely get chronicled, gastrointestinal pyrotechnics aside, but it's just gotten lost in the shuffle. Give me a mental slap for being a bad blogger, but I just can't keep up right now. Look for the Pohnpei entry next...
I should be writing about Pohnpei now, or even the hundred things that happened before I left. Wow, I have so much to write about, and I know that things are going to get missed, but right now I am completely emotionally drained. Drained by planes that fly right over islands that they're supposed to land on, by fucked up systems that don't let you easily change your plans, by friends who take off the cuff remarks too seriously, by preparing for huge parties all alone because the people who would ordinarily help you are all busy tomorrow.
People keep asking me if I'm excited to leave. NO! I'm not! Are you ever excited to move all of your possessions from one side of the world to the other, with all that entails? I bet you aren't. How can I be excited when the sheer logistics of this move are burying me under a weight so heavy that I almost can't breathe? I can't look past tomorrow, let alone a time when I'll fly away for permanent. For reals. The good news is that after having a heart attack all over island today (and almost giving my boss one), my plans finally got switched. I'm here for another couple of days, until Friday. I think I'll use those extra days to finish my chores, say farewells to my friends, and to say a proper goodbye to this, my beloved island. I look on them as a gift. The blogging will have to wait until later. Much later, when I've regained some perspective on my life.
Who knew this much stress existed in the world?? My pack out is two days away, my tix to Pohnpei are totally screwed and I still have to plan my PCS party. 'Scuse me while I go inject heroin into my eyeballs now.
Sidenote: camping post to come later, after I've emerged from my opiate coma.
When I look at my unbelievably busy calendar for April it makes me want to start breathing hard. A lot of things have that effect on me these days. I start thinking about finding an apartment, buying a car, new faces, new places, and, god, have I saved nearly enough money, and is anyone even going to miss me when I leave?? (Besides TP - love you, babe.) Then, hyperventilation. It reminds me of a feeling that I had when I was a little girl. My cousin and I always used to ride bikes down the hill near her house, and normally the feeling of flying was utterly exilarating, and we would ride all day long just for that swooping sensation in our stomachs. One time, though, the bike that I was on started to shake and shudder right as I got to maximum velocity. You see, it couldn't handle the speed; I was out of control. That crappy bicycle basically fell apart underneath me and I pitched over the handlebars in an epic wipeout.
Yeah, that's about how I feel right now; like I'm going to sail ass over teakettle into the unknown and sustain wicked bad scrapes on my emotional knees and elbows. Again, like with the bike, I am out of control, rushing towards a destination willy-nilly. There's no stopping this party train, dear readers. Sometimes it's great, the future stretching out in fabulous unknowable possibilities. Sometimes, though, it's very scary. In fact, I would pretty much say that I'm a paraniod schizophrenic right about now. I'm angry one minute, then happy, then reclusive, then maniacly social. I confuse myself; I can only imagine what my friends must be thinking. I didn't have this reaction last time I moved, but then, I think it was because I had no fucking clue what I was getting myself into. Now, however, it's a very different story.
Now I know that no matter how happy I am to be back in good old Jerz that I will hear about things happening on-island and be terribly jealous and upset that I'm not there to share in the fun. Shit - I don't even want to think the word "winter." I also think that part of my stress comes from seeing people forming up in little convivial groups that I know I won't be a part of for long. You see, I'm terribly selfish; I want everyone to go through some huge traumatic upheval when I leave, one just as bad as I'm going through. Besides being unrealistic, that's just plain old mean spirited. That's how I feel, though! If I can't be in on the thick of things, I want them to feel as though somthing's missing. I know I'm not being fair, especially since it was my decision to PCS. And I still want to, very much. Some days I can barely wait the six weeks that I have left here. Most days I don't really know how to feel.
Bottom line? Moving is damn hard.
Things I need to get done this weekend:
The laundry, as it is creeping out of my closet and annexing most of the tiled floor space. It's threatening to turn feral and start consuming anything edible in its path. I'm afraid that I'll come home one evening and find that a few tufts of fur are all that is left of the hissing kitty.
Start on my mission (should I choose to accept it) to become gloriously nut brown by the time I board the plane on May 12th. Lately I've been really lackadaisical about going to the beach, and I think the first time that I feel the bite of winter that I'm really going to regret that. Plus, I wish to inspire major envy in my compatriots. Maximum tanness is the absolute best way to do that. That means outside time all three days of the weekend. Sigh.
Do the great CD reorginization of '08. I'm one of those people who just pop CDs into their cases any old how. The CD that I'm putting away usually goes into the case of the disc that just replaced it in the player. You'd think this would make them easy to find, but shockingly, that's not true almost ever. I guess that after a year you can't remember in what exact sequence that you listened to a couple hundred CDs. Go fig! What prompted this burst of future possible organization, you ask? This morning, becoming so frustrated at not being able to find the one CD that I was desperate to listen to at work, I stubbornly sat and opened case after case. When I glanced up at the clock and realized that I was about to miss the bus, I leaped awkwardly up and headed towards the door. Since I was in a tearing hurry, though, I never quite got my balance and shambled crookedly (and surprisingly swiftly) on my way. Unfortunately, my aim was a little off and intead of sailing on my way I bonked my head, quite hard, on the doorjamb, reeled back and plopped down onto my butt with the quickness. Yeah, I never want that to happen again, so, re-org. You want to know the kicker to this whole thing? I didn't even find the fuckin' CD that I was looking for!
Practice the dance that I stupidly agreed to perform at DJ P's party next weekend. As DC notes, I'm not really afraid to do anything, but that doesn't mean that I'm not aware that I'm probably going to make an ass out of myself; it just means that I don't give a damn. Still, why? Must remind myself frequently that ice luges and dance routines DO NOT MESH.
With May creeping stealthily up on me, I have to get the events for the drunk Olympics PCS party ready and send them out. I think it's a really cool and different idea for a party, but as always I'm terrified (already) that nobody is going to come. I had one awesome winter in The Best Apartment Ever where every party thrown was a huge success, but before and since then it's hit or miss. Keep your fingers crossed for me, pitifully small band of readers. I can't imagine many worse ways to depart than with a poorly attended going away bash.
Start packing up!! Or at least begin to start setting things aside for a yard sale.
Things I will actually get done this weekend:
Lots of drinking.
Going to Bigej and probably frizzling at least one or two parts of my anatomy.
Sleeping late.
Laying on the couch.
Sad, but ultimately true. Pa-thetic.
Actually it's more like a week. Apparently now is the time to admit that I haven't been keeping up on the blogosphere like I should be. Not even the blogs of those nearest and dearest to me. I guess that makes me a terrible person. Or lazy. Bad Noodle! Since I got choo-choosed, though, here it is better late than never:
What is you occupation?
Tech writer of all things radar, otherwise known as the most boring job in the world.
What are you listening to?
Ingrid Michaelson - Slow the Rain.
Can you drive a stick shift?
Oh, hell, yes I can! That little talent is about to save me some buckage in my upcoming car purchase.
Last person you spoke to on the phone?
KF at 11:30 on a Monday night when some rando Marines wanted me to come to the Vet's. Needless to say I politely declined.
Do you like the person who sent this to you?
Bien sur!
Favorite drink?
Bacardi and V8 Splash. I'm off the sauce for now, though, so that yumminess will have to wait.
What is your favorite sport to watch?
Football, no question.
Have you ever dyed your hair?
Yes, and it's been a horrible mistake every single time. I think I'll stick with my strawberry curls now and forever.
Pets?
Temporarily I have one hissing cat.
Favorite food?
Lasagne.
Last movie you watched?
The Departed
Favorite day of the year?
Every day that I'm near the ocean.
What do you do to vent anger?
Either turn silent and sullen or talk it out with an uninvolved friend.
What was your favorite toy as a child?
Barbies, and all the sagas I created for them.
Which is your favorite, fall or spring?
Spring - everything is so new and fresh.
Hugs or kisses?
Both!
What kind of pie?
Key lime.
Living arrangemet?
A teeny, tiny, eensy, weensy BQ room. And how I hate it!
When was the last time you cried?
No doubt at some movie; I'm a sucker for the tear-jerkers, folks.
What is on the floor of your closet?
Lots o' shoes, a cooler and half the beach.
Favorite smell?
Fresh cut grass and plumeria.
What inspires you?
My friends and bloggers who are way more talented than me.
What are you afraid of?
Never being able to conquer the demon that I call my weight.
Plain, cheese or spicy hamburger?
Plain, always.
Favorite car?
Pontiac Solstice.
Favorite cat breed?
The non hissing type. Sigh.
Favorite day of the week?
Friday - the whole weekend stretches out in front of you with endless possibility.
How many countried have you been to?
A decent amount: Thailand, Malaysia, Hong Kong, New Zealand, England, France, Spain, Belgium, Holland.
Wow! Wasn't that fun? Don't you feel so close to me now?
I choo-choose:
I am FREAKING THE FUCK OUT! Hey, guess what? I'm leaving this little cocoon that we call Kwaj in about two months. Yeah, no kidding! I don't think that it was actually real to me until yeaterday when I went around and did my out-processing. I'm glad to have it done, because the lack of a pack-out date was starting to worry me, but..but...yow. I've been thinking too much about the emotional impact of leaving and not enough about the practical. Well, that has certainly changed, with a vengeance.
I'm going to need money for a car, apartment, insurance, gas, and about a million different things that I don't have to worry about here on my sleepy little island. Fuck's sake, I can barely remember to pay my phone bill every couple of months (love you Nance Pance - please don't shut me off)! I'm getting heart palpitations just thinking about it. I mean, I save plenty of money from each check, but, not being stupid, that goes directly to my 401K. Another half of the remainder goes into savings, which was actually looking pretty healthy for a while. Unfortunately, my Christmas vacation and various other bills have reduced it to a shadow of its former self. And, no - none of those bills involved my somewhat egregious shopping habit - they were all unavoidable. The reason doesn't really matter, let's face it; the fact remains that I am returning to the land of expense with very little cash cushion and no job.
I just, whew, it's a lot to take on all at once. Especially with no job - a girl can't count on unemployment forever, right? Oh, how I wish I were rich! But until my ship comes in, I'm going to commence pulling all my hair out. Stress is a terrible thing. Maybe I can get medical benefits! Does crazy count?
Too many ideas...must...make list...
I'm a ponytail girl, always have been, always will be. Witness my poor abused Barbies (in many ways, right, girls?) with their polyester hair all permanantly fused up into a ponytail. Every single one. I guess I thought it was the height of Barbie haut coture hair, and now some part of me still agrees. I thought of this whole thing today as I was at the mirror scraping my too short locks into some semblence of a true ponytail - barettes and all. Desperate much? I guess there's really no point to this whole little blurb, but it does make me laugh to think that I'm pretty much the same person as my six year old self foretold.
I actually think the cheesy slogan by Old Navy a couple of years ago, "Get Your Fash On," was fucking catchy and really cool. Which conclusively proves that I'm not.
Yes, I have degenerated completeley now. In my time here I've gone from a fashionable girl who wore cute heels and well thought out skirt/shirt combos to one who throws on some shorts and a tee with flip flops. To go out Saturday night, no less!!! This may not seem like a big deal to some, but TP and my Jersey Girls can see that it is an affront to all that I am. When I can't even wear pussy ass three inch heels or ballet flats (or for that matter any kind of closed toe shoes) without pain, something has gone askew in the universe. I knew that Kwaj was warped, but now it's warped my fashion sense and my body. I need to get the fuck out of Dodge.
A friend recently emailed me about her upcoming wedding, saying that she was "BEYOND EXCITED!!!!!!" Except in much larger print. It reminded me of all the nice things and people that I'm going back to, including some completely marvelous chicks. I had almost forgotten, and the timely reminder has made me a lot less scared about uprooting my whole life. Again.
Softball last night as flippin' sweet! The boys put in a valiant effort - definitely their best of the season so far. I thought that KL was going to start flying; he was running so hard for home that he was for reals trailed by a plume of dust more than head high. Honest, it was almost a suicide squeeze. And he did that twice! CE was right behind him on the great base running, and all of them were just nailing the ball all over the field. Alack, alas, it was still not enough to pull out a win. The drinking afterwards more than made up for it, though - that was at champion or even world class level. That's the real reason we all love softball season, duh. It was Migs's and TS's birthday, so there were a shitload of people to party with, and laugh with, and yeah. Just a really good night. Too bad it was a school night. Six in the morning came pretty fuckin' early today. Still, I must have a drunken Irish angel watching over me, because when I finally woke up after a couple hours of work I was absolutely fine. For no reason. Darby A. Jaimeson, shoulder angel extrodinaire, has got my back.
I'ma do it all again tonght...
V had a really good point the other day. While living here I've become really comfortable with popping a squat just about anywhere and doing my thing. Too many nights at the softball field/boatshacks or just the general moral corruption of Kwajalein? I dunno, but it definitely strikes me as disturbing, no matter what the reason.
So, Bigej. What else is there to say, really? It was magnificent, of course. Not only was it with a bunch of totally random people, but we were up there all day long. I kept asking, "What time is it, what time is it??" Every time I got a reply of before noon I had to shriek gleefully that we had so long to go. We also BBQed on the beach and drank our weight in adult beverages. Unfortunately I also burnt the shit out of my boobs and got so drunk that I passed out on the boat on the way home. Thank goodness I was not alone in my shitfacedness - four of us were in really bad shape in all. We had the passed out drunk (yours truly, no shocker there), the belligerent drunk and the horny drunks. I guess passing the bottle of rum around after a marathon session of drinking wasn't such a good idea after all. I actully managed to get home with all my shit by some miracle, too bad the same can't be said of my brain cells. It's like my bad girl in training said, "All day Bigej sounds like a good idea in theory, but it isn't so good in application." Very sensible.
The other night when J and I were pedalling to the Vet's for Mardi Gras, two frowsy housewives were so blitzed that they were walking their bikes home AT NINE. As they squealed at us, "Be careful in there - it's dangerous! Hic!", J looked at me in shock and commented on the early time. I laughed and said that I should have shouted back at them, "Unlike you we can hold our liquor!" I thought better of it, though, considering it a better idea not to advertise my destructive proclivities to the island at large. It's was mightily tempting, though.
My life doesn't get any less crazy as it goes on. Stay locked, dear readers, you never know what's going to go down next...
I do have to say that for being a single girl all on my own, I seem to have a kick ass time every Valentine's Day. Although, last night was a eensy bit different than last year. Okay, a lot different - no naked Marines, or spin the bottle, or.... Still, there was plenty of wine, good food, and good company, which - in the end - is the most important part of the evening.
We congregated at the trailer that M is house-sitting. It's funny to ride through the old hood; it's all so dark and deserted now. What? Quiet still, all? Kind of sad, really. I spent so many happy, crazy hours at those trailers, and to see them run down hurts my heart a little. Still, life abounds at trailer 601, and we made very good use of it. I think we shocked the newbie, too. After the first few minutes of raw conversation (porn and the like - typical for us), he looked a little wide eyed. Welcome to the big time, boy-o. I somtimes forget how we must sound to outsiders; I bet we're pretty fucking appalling, in fact. I wouldn't have it any other way, but then, I never claimed to be a lady. After a couple of drinks, though, n00b settled right in with some stories of his own. I knew there was a true Jersey boy in the somewhere!
There's not much to tell about my Valentine's Day, nothing of substance, really. How do you sum up a perfect evening when that perfection encompassed a whole lotta nothing? We laughed until our sides hurt, we watched utterly meaningless TV with rapt attention, drank and smoked ciggys, and yeah. Nothing much, just the pure bliss of lovely friends gathering together. I'm lucky that way - I have wonderful friends who adore me for exctly who I am - no pretence - no conditions.
You know, a couple of days ago somebody said something that slid right between my ribs and directly into my heart. I let it ruin my whole evening and was still feeling shitty about it the next day. I don't know why, as an intelliegent woman, that I have to keep learning the same lessons over and over again. The lesson is this: SOME PEOPLE DON'T MATTER! Worry about what your friends think of you. Worry about giving your love and thoughts to them, not to some jackhole who doesn't give a shit about you and more importantly; who you don't give a shit about, either. It took my valentine bringing me some chocolates and a card for Valentine's Day to remind me that I've already learned this. It's Saturday nights playing Monopoly with two of your closest friends, ecards sent back and forth, countless dinners at L and B's, sweet baby smiles at my appearance, etc, that are the important things. Sometimes I forget to value what I have and for that, I apologize to my friends, who are so good to me. Better, somtimes, than I deserve.
Nights like last night serve as a sharp reminder that I have a fucking fantastic life, with fucking amazing friends. I promise not to forget again, guys. And BWSBM? It was one of my very, very best Valentine's Days, too.
Fuck, that was satisfying. To see the Patriots, whom every announcer has been verbally fellating the whole season, eat it right at the end; to see eighteen and one soon to be forgotten instead of nineteen and oh to be heard about in perpetuity to the end of the world, amen. It was good, to say the least.
When speaking with my dad about the game he remarked upon the fact that he hadn't known how badly he wanted the Patriots to loose until it actually happened, and I know what he means. As we sat, stunned, quiet all in the final seconds of the game, I felt euphoria bubbling up inside me. While the rest were still grappling with their shock, I leapt up and shrieked my elation to the sky. No words - just yell after yell of pure happiness. I think that if you had tossed me off a cliff I honestly would have flown. Remember the evil laugh that I've mentioned before? It is now constantly bubbling under the surface of my skin; it gives me great joy to think of all those smug ass New England fans crying in thier collective beers. Ah, let me bask in the thought for a moment. Ahhhhhhh. Heheh. Heh. HeheheMUAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!
Ahem, um, sorry about that - moving on. Suffice to say that it was a great, grand, wonderful game, and day. Spent time with the Kwaj fam, had some laughs and good food and watched Brady chew turf all afternoon. What could be beter than that (besides an Eagles Superbowl win, of course)? Almost nothing.
