in_thegreenroom

So my weekday life here in Louisiana usually goes something like this.

Wake up, kiss Matt goodbye. Walk dogs, feed dogs. Feed self. Look for jobs. Do some chores, but usually end up reading. Curl hair. Meet Matt for lunch. Matt goes back to work. Go to apartment and clean/move things in/check the mail. Chat with Mark or Garth or whoever is around. Sit at Barnes and Noble for an hour or so and read field guides to learn about the new wildflowers I'm seeing. Head back to Matt's house. Have snack. Matt comes home. Long hike with dogs. Find some new plant. Rush home to research new plant. Shower. Feed dogs. Feed selves. Watch BBC's "The History of the English Language" on DVD. Go upstairs. Read. Sleep.

I've officially applied for a job as a library lady at one of the high schools here. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't totally thrilled. There are quite a few vacancies within the school system. I'm getting closer and closer to real live employment every day, but for now I'm enjoying the time that I have to devote to myself, learning on my own free will, spending time outdoors, cooking new recipes, and just generally feeling my way around this brand-new chapter of life.

Last night I took an incredibly long bath until I heard Matt "oh my GOD"-ing downstairs. Apparently the tub drains directly into his kitchen ceiling. This is a new development, and I'm so, so glad to be moving out of base housing. Stifling, manufactured, it's like living in the dorms again, except the people are uglier.

We found blackberries on our hike today with the dogs. They're still too young for eating, but the bramble is enormous and this summer is going to be purple-stained for sure.

I'm totally in love with this place, and with the nature around me, and the good feelings I've been having since I got here. There's nothing I like more than identifying a new animal track in the red mud in the woods or tucking the Smithsonian Field Guide to Herbs into the waist of my jeans, letting the dogs off the leash, and filling my head with the amazing diversity of this tiny patch of land. So far we've found perfume bottles and bullet casings from the 30s, rocks of raw amethyst just lying on the ground, and hundreds of edible (or just really fragrant) plants.

I've forgotten how fantastic it is to get into bed every night, next to someone you really love, genuinely worn out from the day's activities.

So, that's that.

Naturally,
Alex

Well, it seems like I've all but given up my Livejournal in search of greener pastures. But I will grace you all with an update, since a lot has changed.

I've been in Louisiana for about a week now, and I'm beginning the slow process of establishing a life here. I arrived with a few job leads, including a friend of my mom's who works for Cumulus. I also have an appointment tomorrow afternoon at a temp agency. My first priority is income, second is developing my career. Becoming an educator is a long, bureaucratic process, and the money that I came here with will run out long before I'm finished.

Although, amazingly, my new next-door neighbor is a 6th grade teacher with a BA in English. When I first met him, I immediately started grilling him about teaching in Louisiana, since I cannot get a consistent answer from anyone. He has already been a big help, and the more time I spend here, the more I realize that moving here was a great choice.

On the apartment front, Matt and I have been slaving away over there nearly every day. I go over while he's at work, I clean, I repair, I paint. Today is the first day since I've been here that I haven't gone over. But! It looks amazing so far. The kitchen is nearly done--I finished painting it yesterday (save for that awkward space above the cabinets), and we only have a couple more projects to do. The rest of the house is another story, although the kitchen was the biggest project, and it only took us a few days. Mostly it just needs paint and some new hardware here and there. And we have to find some way to get that "old house" smell out.

The electricity still isn't turned on. SWEPCO wants to charge us a $228 deposit to start service, and while we have the money, we're bristling at giving it to them. It just seems so ridiculous to pay that much for some guy to come out here with a screwdriver. Apparently it's expensive because we live in a "high-risk" area and the people who had our apartment before us weren't exactly wholesome characters.

Despite what the power company says, however, we live in an amazing neighborhood that I have quickly fallen in love with. I have already met more of my neighbors here than I ever met living in Tampa, simply by virtue of them coming over to say hey. There's Garth and Mindy, who live next door--Garth is the teacher with the English degree who invites us over for beers all the time. Mark and his partner Richard live downstairs, with their quiet, eco-obsessed roommate Steve, and their dog Dexter. Next to them is Mary and her kids Patrice, Patricia, and Isaiah. One of the daughters practices her trombone on the front porch every afternoon. They also have a dog named Job.

On the weekends, the entire neighborhood is a flurry of activity, with kids riding their bikes, people doing yardwork, or just sitting on their front porches. The best thing about where I live, I think, is that because it's such an old neighborhood, the place is so dynamic. Black, white, upper-middle-lower class, gay, straight, ambiguous...it's just a micro chasm of culture on one block. Oh, and the trees. The trees are nice.

So Matt and I are still in his on-base house, but the move out paperwork has been filed, and our official move-out date is May 1, although I predict we will be out well before then.

And Matt and I are doing well. Surprisingly, even after being trapped in a car with him for two days, and almost immediately diving into a huge home improvement project with him, we've only snapped at each other once or twice. I guess it's easy to be optimistic when everything seems to be working out suspiciously well. When he gets home from work, we take the dogs on long walks through the woods. The other day we went out to a construction site here on base, where land is being cleared for houses. The site looks to be a 60 year-old landfill. The gross stuff is long gone, but the red dirt is rife with old bottles and jars from the 30s and 40s. Nothing's really worth much, but once they're cleaned out, the tiny milk glass cold cream jars look pretty cool. This weekend I think we're bringing shovels.

Anyway, that's what's going on with me right now. Pictures will be posted soon. Hope everyone out there is well.

-Alex

I don't understand how people have the audacity to flaunt their materialism anymore. The other day I overheard a woman mention how "you gotta start 'em early" in reference to her kids and designer handbags. Being materialistic is no longer en vogue; the attitude has overstayed its welcome and the rest of us are paying for it.

I spent a lot of time in college in a vain pursuit to live a lifestyle that my parents didn't have until they were in their forties. And I sank myself into a lot of debt in the process. Now that I've paid everything off and take care of my own bills, I have a little more perspective.

I was always surprised in college to see how many kids drove new or almost-new cars, lived in "luxury student apartments" and were able to afford new outfits, frequent bar visits, and superfluous activities like manicures and vacations. While I didn't support myself completely in college, I had a part-time job and still struggled to help my roommate pay bills, buy groceries, pay the rent and keep my car (a 1993 Toyota Corolla with one hubcap) maintained. I don't get why, even now, "in these times," people are still throwing their money around on ridiculous designer bags, and overpriced, shitty home decor. While the recession may have not impacted all of us yet, I think most of us are touched in at least a secondary way. Less hours at work, higher credit card payments, more expensive groceries, etc.

I am about to move out on my own, to my first post-college, no-parental-involvement apartment. This time I'm ready. I've cut up my credit cards, I clip coupons. I shop at Goodwill for things like plates and lamps and weird, retro wall art. I visit at Walgreens instead of Sephora (and, to my surprise, my face can't tell the difference between Cover Girl and NARS). I'm at the public library at least once a week. I make a lot of food at once and freeze it. I use Craigslist, eBay, and my front yard. Most importantly, I have a savings account...and there's something in it. I am scared, but I'm excited. I've given up the fantasy of Carrie Bradshaw and adopted the spending habits I should have had all along. I realize now that everyone has to start somewhere, and for most of us, it's at $0. And I feel better, and safer for it.

Frugally,
Alex

For Christmas, my boyfriend got me The Culinary Institute of America's textbook and perfume that smells like paperbacks. I love him.

I am moving to Louisiana in the spring.

That is all.

File cabinets with draws, dressers with draws, desks with draws. There are ads all over Craig's List for furniture with "draws." Do you folks by any chance mean "drawers?" A drawer is a box-like thing that is housed in a piece of furniture and that rotates in and out. It's used for storage.

A "draw" is many things, but it is not a "drawer."

Are there really so many people who are confused about this? People in the Marina and SOMA? You don't know what a drawer is? I mean, I hate to be a stickler, but come ON. Not knowing how to spell drawer means you've never read *anything.* Not a work of classic literature, not a pulp novel, not a comic book, not a catalogue, not a magazine, not a newspaper. The word drawer is everywhere.

Literature: Madame Bovary kept things in drawers. Jo March used drawers. Franny and Zooey used drawers. Portnoy used drawers. Nancy Drew, the Hardy Boys, and the Three Investigators all solved mysteries by striking an old desk, thereby unlatching a "secret drawer."

Drawers aren't only in old literature; they are in recent, highly regarded and prize winning literature: staggering geniuses use drawers. People for whom things are illuminated use drawers.

Even in current best-sellers there are drawers. According to a millisecond-long A9.com search, on page 31 of The Story of Edgar Sawtelle (#62 in Oprah's Bookclub), "...[at] odd moments she might discover Trudy rearranging the chest of drawers..." And in Extreme Measures - a Thriller (2008), on page 271, someone opens a drawer to take out a pack of Marlboros. There are many, many, maaaaany others. It's more likely than not that any work of fiction will refer to a drawer at some point within it's pages.

In advertising: have you never heard of "top drawer service?" Even the newspaper is full of advertising references to Cost Plus World Market weekend deals on rattan wine bars with iron bottle-racks and MDP "utility drawers." Or Macy's blowout furniture "events" where bedroom sets include several items with drawers. Bed, Bath and Beyond sells things with drawers. Instructions for putting together IKEA furniture make references to these things called "drawers."

While it's possible you are confusing drawers with "draws," those flat, pull-out trays that might be on a taboret or tool chest, that's still doesn't contradict the fact that you don't read enough to know how to accurately represent that storage-box part of the furniture you are selling. You don't recognize or spell correctly the word "drawer."

Is this such a big deal? Not knowing how to spell a word? Maybe, maybe not. Though I'd perhaps be less concerned if you were having trouble spelling, say, "Czechoslovakia," or "appliqué," or even, "biscuit." Those words aren't as ubiquitous in our lives as the word "drawer."

But not knowing "drawer." It says something larger. Something not good.

I'm not trying to pick on anyone here. Just to say, this seems to be a disturbing trend and I hope it doesn't mean what I think it means.

This is my first piece for Metromix Brevard. Take a looksee...

http://brevard.metromix.com/restaurants/photogallery/inside-coconuts/748648/content

My very first paid news article was published yesterday. Yeah, kind of an inopportune day for my maiden column, but I'll take what I can get. I'm a professional writer now. I have achieved my childhood dream, one way or another.

http://www.floridatoday.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=200881104047

Tomorrow is The Big Day and I am scared shitless.

Without this post turning into one and biased long diatribe, let me say this:

Know the issues. Know the candidates. Know where you stand. And make the right choice.

If not for you, then for the country. Cut through the hype, the myths, the lies, and the outright bullshit.

This past election season has been one of the most exciting times in our country, and while I'll be sad to see it end, I do hope that we can wake up on November 5 and remember that there are still some things worth getting upset about. George W. Bush has herded us into glazed-over apathy, and it has been so refreshing (and, I won't lie...sometimes incredibly frustrating) to see people really stand up for what they believe in, whether or not I think it's "right" or "wrong."

I had a long talk with my best friend (and lifelong Republican) Rachael the other night, and I think Americans in general are more alike than they are different. It seems to me that we all more or less want the same things, but have very different ideas about how to get them. However things turn out tomorrow, remember that we are not a country of Republicans and Democrats. We are a country of Americans. Until we start behaving as such, things will only get worse.


-Alex

So life back in Melbourne has been okay so far. My freelancing really started to pick up, and staring next month, I will be reviewing restaurants and bars for the Space Coast version of this: http://newyork.metromix.com

So now eating and getting buzzed is a requirement for my job, and I really can't complain.

It would be nice to meet people this way. Since I moved back last month, I have done a total of 0 activities with my peers. I'm stuck in that same old quandry that I was at fifteen, wherein I believe "everyone here sucks" and all the cool people must be elsewhere. Well, after living "elsewhere" for the past four years, I have come to realize that there are indeed losers everywhere. The trick is wading through them.

Anyway, Jen designed my business card, which I am pretty excited about:



And that's it.


-Alex

It may come as a surprise to some of you that I consider myself politically moderate. Sure, I've had my share of homosexual liaisons, test drives in foreign automobiles, and organic, free-range hamburgers, but what patriotic American hasn't?

I believe that the democratic process is what makes America America, and, while the fact that I get to disagree with my neighbors can be frustrating, I also find it exciting and extremely patriotic. (Except for their goddamned McCain signs.)

I am voting for Obama this November because I know what America can be at its best, and I believe that he can coax it out.

I believe that the war in Iraq is not a war that can be won or lost. I believe that we have no business being there, and that there are far too many domestic concerns to be dealt with before we assume responsibility of other countries. With that being said, we are in way too deep to leave recklessly. We need to get out, but we need to do it cleanly.

I believe in my ability to make decisions about my own body. I believe that the value of life extends beyond unborn humans to include women, men, children, animals, and Republicans.

I believe that a rape victim should not be forced to be reminded of her own personal tragedy every day for nine months (and beyond).

I believe that the constitutional rights of marriage should be extended to all couples, not just those who were born heterosexual. I believe that every type of love is valid and sacred. I believe that we cannot withhold basic civil rights simply because we do not personally agree with a lifestyle.

I believe that parents need to be equally accountable for their children's education as teachers are. I believe that the thirst for knowledge and the love of learning are values first introduced at home, and certainly some of the most important qualities a person can possess.

I believe that the United States is an incredible mixture of religions and spiritualities, and that one should not govern them all. These beliefs are personal and should stay out of the government at all costs. However, I also believe in the freedom to worship as one chooses.

I believe in helping our fellow Americans. I believe that the bootstrap theory is an outdated myth. I DO NOT believe in handouts, and I certainly agree that there are plenty of abuses of "the system" going on presently. But I agree that we are one country, fifty states united, and that neighbors helping neighbors is a hallmark of the American dream.

I am truly proud to be an American, and I believe that with some help from the right candidate, our country can reclaim its status as the greatest in the world. But it will take work, patience, and an open mind.

Please don't forget to vote on November 4.

-Alex

Matt went back to Shreveport today, and the house is quiet again. I always like having people in from out of town, because you get to see your own city through a new pair of eyes. For his last day here, we hit up all four of the used bookstores in the yellow pages. I discovered that the one in Satellite Beach is dog-friendly, and the people that own the one downtown cannot turn away donations...at the expense of their store's appearance. It's a great place, but with books hiding out behind shelves and in boxes on the floor, it's hard to believe they have any kind of inventory to speak of. At any rate, Matt bought me "The Sweet Hereafter" for $6.

We had apple and brie sandwiches for lunch, and that was that.

So now it's back to our regularly scheduled program of finding a big-kid job/getting on with my life.

Besides that, I've started a new project to desensitize myself from my immobilizing spider phobia. This highly scientific process involves typing phrases like "giant house spider" into Google and peering at the results through spread fingers.

So far it's only made me feel like they're crawling on me.

Yesterday Matt and I went to the nude beach at Playalinda. Honestly, once our clothes were off, everything felt pretty normal. Nobody stared, besides a couple who were very obviously on the "wrong" beach, and believe me...there wasn't much to stare at (unless you like men 60+). It felt pretty good lying on a beach, just lying there, without shit digging into you and bunching up and coming undone. And looking around (through your sunglasses) and realizing that you don't look so bad after all.

I think the most thought-provoking conclusion of the whole thing was how nonsexual nudity really is. I think there are a lot of misconceptions about nude places being orgy palaces or something similar, but really...it was a normal beach. Quieter than a normal beach, even. Everyone had magazines and was minding their own business. Clothes are the last bastion of class distinctions in our society, and once those are gone, everyone is just the same. And not too pretty.


Barely,
Alex

"Everyone's saying 'vote for change.' But...change for what? I'm happy with the status quo." -Random McCain supporter on the news

Okay McCain supporters, you've said your piece. Now it all makes sense. If you don't want change, you won't get it. And I think you'll be quite happy with the results!

Now, this is America, and yeah, you can vote for anybody you want. But that doesn't mean I won't think you're a huge moron.

And if I have to hear these ridiculous Obama myths one more time, I am going to scream. No, he's not a Muslim. No, he's not interested in turning the US into a Socialist state. No, he's not going to cancel military funding or take the "Christ" out of Christmas. Do your research, and stop listening to the crap. Don't you think that if he had these ridiculous, grandiose plans for the country, they'd be a little more well-publicized? Don't you think the Republican party would be having a field day with that information?

Obama is the thinking man's candidate, plain and simple. At this point, I can't be convinced otherwise. Thank God.


Leftly,
Alex

Yesterday Matt and I drove from Shreveport to Hot Springs National Park in Arkansas. On the way there we listened to NPR and had the world's greatest turkey sandwiches that your mom (in theory) could probably make. And we stopped and bought tomatoes, red as ketchup, and nectarines and boiled peanuts, which are one of those foods that take you forever to make a decision about.

Hot Springs was nice, but we hiked up what felt like an 85-degree incline and were rather ill-equipped for the journey (i.e. no grappling hooks). Still, it was worth it. Arkansas is actually pretty, although the big disappointment of the day was that there is no swimming in the springs. Guh. Although, delicious bottled water. I must say.

On the way back to Shreveport, on an Arkansas back road, we stumbled across a stray, skinny puppy who was rooting through the foliage on the side of the road and had very obviously rolled in something dead. We picked him up (finally, somebody who shares the ridiculous, mushy spot in my heart for stray dogs) and knocked on a few doors to see if he belonged to anybody. This took about a half hour, given that the houses in the area were all approximately .5 miles away from each other.

Predictably, he was homeless, and Matt and I had no choice but to find a nice big field and let him go. Taking him back to Shreveport would have been the world's worst idea, and at 7:30 on a Sunday night (in rural Arkansas, no less), options are limited. Unfortunately, as dogs are wont to do, he ran next to the car for a few thousand feet. I watched him recede in the rearview mirror, and cried for most of the drive back.

This summer is shaping up to be a smaller version of the original summer I had envisioned for myself. Unfortunately, graduating from USF left something to be desired. But now that I am in another town, and falling in love again, and eating sun-warmed tomatoes, I feel quite a bit more alive than I have in months.

I have been making a conscious effort to live "authentically," because I am hell bent on not making the same mistakes with Matt as I have in the past. That includes letting relationships go on much longer than they really had any business going on.

Anyway, Matt is the type of guy who identifies rocks and owns binoculars and keeps Fitzgerald next to Silverstein next to Sedaris on his bookshelf. He knows what high-quality produce tastes like, owns a good set of knives, alphabetizes his DVDs, and donates to the ASPCA. He makes me laugh like a nut and has unreal scalp-scratching skills.

Your guess is as good as mine as to whether this is the type of person I'd like to see myself with "forever," but "forever" is a big, scary word and one that I am not prepared to tackle at this point. He is, however, the type of person with whom I want to take vacations, and adopt a dog, and take vacations with the dog, and wake up early to go to farmers' markets, and observe and love and be mystified by the abundance and beauty of the planet.

He is unconditionally optimistic, and if anybody knows anything about the situation that I have recently extracted myself from, you know that this is a huge change. But I feel much more like myself, which is...alien. He has just enough life experience that he is neither naive nor totally ruined. Also, he is a fucking grown-up, which is a gorgeous trait.

But enough about that. This is my life at the moment. College is over, and right now I have no idea where I am going, or what I'm going to be, but I am really, really enjoying the options.


Naturally,
Alex

So in class this morning we somehow arrive at the subject of the war. With the impending presidential changeover coming in mere months, everybody's minds are turned to all things political. Unsurprisingly, the class is almost entirely fed up with W's hijinks, including the professor. However, one girl stood out above all the rest. When somebody proposed that George W. spend some time on the front lines of Iraq, the girl in the front of the room simply stated, "He can't do that. His life is too valuable."

Okay, I'll let that sink in.

...

She then went on to say that even if more politicians had children in combat, it wouldn't make a difference as to how the war is being handled. She also mentioned that the government does not make hasty decisions about things like war. Like hell they don't.

Yeah. So guys. The election is coming. This is America, and you are absolutely entitled to vote for whomever you'd like, as long as it's a well-researched, educated decision and one that matches your own set of values and priorities. If you're going to blindly consume whatever "The Government" feeds you, I suggest that you stay home. If you really believe that George Bush and his motley gang of lovable losers cares about the soldiers (or the average American joe, for that matter), you are sadly mistaken. There is no benevolent force in control any more. Our governing bodies no longer answer to a higher authority or some kind of universal moral code. Every single decision they make comes from the pockets of lobbyists, corporations, or in a crude form from the ground. Democrats or Republicans. This applies to all of them.

Keep the faith, but don't put all your eggs in one basket. So to speak.

On a related note, I think it's time for all of us to wise up and realize that when you say you "support the troops," you are really just saying that you support the war.

As I told Matt today (the new guy I am seeing, who toils away for 40 hours a week at his Air Force job), of course I support the troops. But I support them as human beings. Not as faceless indentured servants fighting for a cause few of us can find the energy to get behind anymore.

Patriotically,
Alex

Anybody remember when Miracle Fruit was in the news not too long ago? You eat these little berries and all of a sudden, everything tastes sweet? The concept reminds of of the YA book "The Chocolate Touch" by Patrick Catling. The protagonist, a preteen boy, loves chocolate so much that he wishes that everything was chocolate. Predictably, his wish comes true, and everything that comes into contact with his mouth turns to chocolate, including his toothpaste. Of course, with a few minor tweaks, this could make for a very interesting "adult" story, but I digress.

Anyway I just ate a Miracle Fruit tablet alone in my apartment, and here's what happened: potato chips taste like muted versions of themselves. Tabasco tastes like cheap spaghetti sauce, salt becomes incredibly appetizing, and grapefruit juice (100%, no added sugar) is so sweet it made me gag. I'm not sure what else to eat. I've been going through my apartment frantically, trying to sample everything before the effect wears off. It seems to work best on spicy and sour foods.

A friend of mine ordered them for me off the internet and they just showed up in my mailbox today. I was supposed to wait so we could do them together, but come on. Two words: quality control.

Sweetly,
Alex

EDIT: Stella Artois tastes like a raisin-flavored wine spritzer.

Just a tiny little note to let you all know that I, Alex, have made it into the Top 5 list of candidates for Florida Today's open restaurant reviewer position. Apparently there were "hundreds" of interested parties, but the resume of yours truly is sitting on the desk of some Florida Today bigwig with a gigantic star on it. So holy fuck, this is basically my dream job.

Yes...I always knew I could put my glorious fatness and my splendid writing skills to good use. Wish me luck! I should know for sure in the next couple of weeks.

Okay that's it!

Deliciously,
Alex

Collar, but no tags. Not microchipped. Housebroken and knows some basic commands. I've got posters up and an ad in the paper, but no responses yet. I'm not sure what to do with him, but in the mean time, Twigs has really been enjoying having a brother around.

I've been calling him "The German." The German gets erections all the time.

-Alex

Wow, so Eli Wanna is dead? Ryan Daly informed me that he got himself killed in a head-on collision on A1A a couple days ago.

Guys, let me just say this. Sometime in high school, Eli and his family lived on my block (no idea if they still do). One afternoon I was driving home through Suntree, and he was behind me. The speed limit throughout the residential areas is a steady 25, but I was usually doing around 40. Wrong, yes, but 25? Give me a break, I was probably 17 years old, driving a stick shift.

So Eli was driving behind me, tailgating me in true douchebag form, and then he passed me on a double yellow line. Suntree's roads are windy and unpredictable, and had somebody been driving like him (or even me, at the snail's pace of 40) in the opposite lane, he would have died a lot sooner.

I totally lost my cool (I mean, hello, I was already fucking speeding), so I followed him home and yelled at him in his driveway. Seriously? There is no excuse for driving like that and just being a general testosterone-addled bully to everybody else. Especially in a residential area known for its high concentration of kids and old people.

Anyway, I won't soon forget that day...it was the first out of a mere two times (in my entire life) that I have ever gotten so angry that I actually lost control. But that's besides the point.

I read the story on Florida Today's website, and while it may be too soon to release the technical details of the accident, I have no doubt that aggressive driving played a part in it. It is certainly a tragedy when anybody loses their life in such a way, but old habits die hard. I am a strong believer that bad behavior on the road will eventually teach a very important, albeit tragic, lesson to its proponents. It is so easy to fall into the false sense of control when you're behind the wheel, but the sad truth is that you just cannot predict anything.

Additionally, it appears that he wasn't wearing a seatbelt. Apparently if he had, he probably would have survived.

Just be careful out there, for God's sake. And if you can't muster enough concern for anybody else's life, at least have some for your own.

-Alex

Okay, I know that America in general has a big issue with grasping certain elements of grammar, spelling, and punctuation. But a new item to add on to my list of grammatical pet-peeves is the use of quotation marks to emphasize something. Such as:

"Attention:" This microwave is office property.

Whereas something like this would be more appropriate:

Attention: This microwave is office property.

When I see quotation marks, I assume that either something is being cited, or somebody/something is being passively made fun of:

Wow, she sure makes a great "natural blonde."
"I used to really like eggs," Steve said.

So when I see "Attention" in quotation marks, I assume it's supposed to be some kind of joke.

"Attention:" Disregard.

People, English is your language! Do not abuse it! If you can't even completely master your mother tongue, it doesn't say too much about you. Or rather, it does say things...very bad things.

In other news, I am finally working again, unfortunately in a field unrelated to my degree. I am enjoying myself and making money, but keeping my options open. I graduate in August and will probably work casually for a year and then attempt to nail down a teaching job somewhere. Although I just applied for a restaurant reviewer position at my hometown newspaper, so that could take me somewhere interesting. So many options.

Bottled water (gallon jugs) has gone up .04. Bananas have gone up almost .10/lb. Eating, driving, living in general is becoming a luxury few can afford, and going out (hell, going anywhere) has become a thing of the past. It's just not worth it anymore. And I feel so helpless to fight the costs of simply being alive. I'd take the bus if Hillsborough County transit weren't so heartbreakingly inefficient, with crazy hours and out-of-the-way routes that double your travel time.

In an ideal situation, everyone would ride their bikes everywhere, toting home fresh fruit and dry bulk foods in the basket on the handlebars. But in Tampa, where everything is at least five miles from where you are, and daytime temperatures climb like a beanstalk, AND there are a scant amount of bike lanes...it's not just impractical, it's dangerous. And anyway, my bike was stolen my freshman year. If I could find a reason to buy a new one, I would. But for right now, 30 m.p.g. is good enough for me. It has to be. I don't really have a choice.

Finally, relationships. Jen and I are still together, but barely. I don't feel like a relationship is appropriate for me right now. It was at one point, but somewhere along the way it stopped being something I enjoyed. Or something either of us enjoy. It's not worth the effort we put forth anymore, but still, we trek on. It's hard not to while living together. The lease is up in October, and I don't know what is going to happen. I just feel like I need to branch out, rekindle some friendships, understand myself a little bit better. And I'm having a hard time doing any of those things under the current circumstances. Nobody is really to blame, it's just the way things work sometimes.

One thing I have learned: don't sign a lease together unless you are married. Even then, it's a gamble. I remember sitting in our landlord's office, my leg bouncing vigorously, wondering if we were really doing the right thing. We weren't. Always, always have a plan, a place to go, if things go awry. And they inevitably will. I really just miss having a place to go when I'm upset. A place where I can be alone, do my own thing, get my thoughts in order. Everything in this tiny apartment is "ours:" our bed, our bathtub, our couch, our kitchen table. I miss just having "mine."

Maybe this is a sign of emotional immaturity, I don't know. I think it's just called "being human." Perhaps I'm just not a co-habitation kind of person. There's nothing inherently wrong about that until you move in with somebody.


Coolly,
Alex