Tackling the holidays

Thanksgiving weekend is over, and it was a doozey. I'm all preachy to my sister about not putting too much pressure on oneself, and I spent the last few weeks stressing over how to make the holidays enjoyable for everyone. Awake in bed for all the wrong reasons.....

But hopefully it'll be for better reasons soon! (Like my segue?) Not to rush, but date number 2 is secured for Tuesday, a full two weeks after the first one. This guy is nice, and possibly boring. I've seen friends date boring people, and I never understood it, but I'm starting to think they were just lonely and this person was good-enough-for-now. Like I said, I've only had one date with the guy, so I'm trying to hold back judgement. Nice is the most important thing for now, anyway. Maybe he can make me laugh on Tuesday. Or maybe we can just make out. Whatevs.

Having family here was so. nice. We even got to have a girl's night, which I will describe as follows. It was really fun, and we had a really great time, but my guess is that in the years to come when we think back on it, we'll remember it as an Amazing time, unforgettable. And I like that about us. Also, we took great pictures, further proof of best times ever.

Now I'm home, and I've started melting back into the real world by doing homework and moving my suitcase all the way from the living room to my bedroom. Baby steps. But the holidays keep coming, so it's time for shopping. Is that really so bad? There will be some major stress packages in the weeks to come, but it won't be anything I can't handle. I've got an exercise buddy, a nightguard, and an appeared-out-of-nowhere bottle of coconut rum on the cabinet. I can deal. First world problems, right? They can eat my dust.

Livin' alone

I lived alone for five seconds after I moved out of my place with my brother, and before Steph moved in. Today, Steph moved out.

And I MISS HER!

Y'oughta be in pictures, I say!

After a day of conferencing, I got off the plane tonight at 9, walked across to the other wing of the airport, took the walkway to the shuttle, the shuttle to the economy parking lots at the end of the line, and the bus to the furthest economy lot. A whole bunch of us got on the bus, and everyone but me got off at the first stop. So the driver and I chatted, and he told me that I've, "got a Mona Lisa thing going on." Said he noticed it as soon as I got on the bus. That I look like I should be in a portrait.

Um, hells yes I'll take it.

The end.

So I'm a little tipsy. So what.

Stressful week, good outcomes. Found an apartment, avoided a challenging landlady, will be in an amazing location. But getting to all that resolution takes a toll emotionally. And today was tough at work, though clearly it'll all be fine.

Tonight I came home ready for (a) queso fundido with margaritas at the good mexican restaurant in the hood, or (b) bottle of wine + bubble bath. Since my brother was up for option a, we got a pitcher of margaritas and had a swell time.

A few margaritas in, he said something like, "You're fun when you're drunk, Annie."

THIS IS THE GENERAL CONSENSUS.

The first time I had drinks with coworkers, I warned them from the get-go that were they to prefer drunk Annie to sober Annie, socially at least, they should keep it to themselves. I've had enough friends share their preference, and it ain't always easy on the ego.

Ultimately I'm glad I'm a fun drunk and all, but since I'm sober 98% of the time, shouldn't that be my best self?

Oh well. I'll take what I've got. Drunk Annie is a good time, after all.

Less guilt

I'm heading out shortly to go to a White Sox game, and really looking forward to it. My brother left the house in a hurry to get to his internship, smelling strongly of weed. He returned a couple minutes later, having missed the bus. He figured out that he could catch a different bus, if he hoofed it for 15 minutes or so to another area. He just called me to say, "I normally wouldn't ask you, because I know you're heading to the game, but I just missed the second bus. [Would you come pick me up and drive me to my internship?]"

Me: "Can't. I have to leave in 15 minutes to get to the game."

Him: "Ok."

Not a dramatic exchange, by any means, but let me tell you how I've progressed. First of all, it took me a long time to be able to say no. Second, after being able to say no, I would have felt guilt for days, picturing his puppy dog eyes, his disappointment in not having his shit together, adding to his low self esteem. If I wanted the best for him, shouldn't I help?

But I'm starting to put myself first a little more. Not a lot, but like this. And I'll tell ya, knowing that he'd have caught the first bus if he hadn't spent his morning smoking up takes a Lot of the guilt away.

Saturday = Flirtyday

I finally got some flirting action, and it was So. Nice. My brother came home from music improv class and brought a couple of fellas with him to play and sing for a while. At first I thought it could be nice background music, or maybe even a nuisance, but it ended up going well into the night, and I ended up joining in on the fun.

So let me clarify. If you take my brother out of the equation (which you do), in the house were me, and two single, attractive, straight men with strong appreciation for music, comedy, and theater. Both of them surprised me. One is my age, and he has a voice that can Melt you. Melt, I say. It reminds me of George Strait's voice, but lower and stronger. Mm hm. He's a Kentucky boy with a thick accent, and kind as can be. We sang Brad Paisley and Allison Kraus together. It felt good.

The other is only 23 or 24 years old, and oddly, I felt a stronger connection with him, personality-wise. He's sweet and funny, and he may have left his FB page open after he left, and I may have looked at some of his pictures and posts on his page. Also, since he's friends with Mr. Kentucky, I got to see some of his stuff, too. Anyway, the youngster is from Belgium, went to grad school in Scotland, and just moved to Chicago in October. His dad is from Jersey, so he has no accent. Aside from English, he speaks fluent Italian, fluent French, good Spanish, and some Hebrew. He seems selfless and mature, and I like him.

If I had to guess tonight, I'm probably not ultimately compatible with either of these guys, but both were eyeing me a little bit, and that was a good feeling. Plus, I can't remember the last time I had half this interest in anyone. It's been over a year for sure. Which means it's been over a year for multiple things, which is a total bummer.

Anyway. I feel nice.

A sign of times to come?

I told my brother I'm moving out when the lease is up. I've been looking forward to it for a while. Before, that, I struggled like crazy with the decision - feeling guilty, making pro/con lists. Sadly, we're not as forthright with our feelings with each other as we should be. But that's a post of a different color. I forget how sensitive he is, and when I learn thoughts he shares with others and not me.... I feel that much more guilt, as he apparently shows great appreciation for me when I'm not around. (And to be fair, some when I am around.) But just because he appreciates me doesn't mean I can live with him forever. It's time.

And yet. I get lonely pretty easily. I love being around family. He and I have fun together. I've quite appreciated having the house to myself this evening, but now that I'm getting ready for bed, I keep thinking, "Gee, I didn't get to tell anybody about my day. Too bad he's not home yet. Maybe if I wait a few more minutes...."

What will happen when I live alone? I'm anticipating a few sad nights at least. I'm lonely right now, but not sad. I'm still pretty confident that this is the right decision, but our place here together sure does feel like a home. Am I really moving out just because I want to keep my place tidier? Not have to share a bathroom? Those reasons sound like those of a spoiled, selfish person. On top of that, doesn't living together enhance our lives more than trouble them? Shouldn't I value living with a family member more than whatever independence or privacy I'm coveting? What does this say about my priorities? Plus, this puts him in a difficult spot - his finances aren't as comfy as mine. Why should I force him to struggle more than he already does - just so I can start a prettier-on-the-surface life? Am I doing the right thing?

So there are nights like tonight when I question my decision, what I stand for, who I want to be . . . and there are nights when I think, Is the lease up yet? I sure am hoping I find a calm balance between the two soon, at least one I can reference for reassurance. 'Cause this sucks.

A glimpse into my family visit

"I think it's interesting that it tastes like vomit, but I still like it."

My brother.

Speechless

I'm so mad. So disappointed. Ashamed even. Almost every time I disagree with someone I'm able to see their point of view. But sometimes people who know better just outrage me. I don't get it. Self-righteous, first-stone-throwing, selfish, solipsistic, judgmental, overreacting, inconsiderate goop. I've been talking out loud to myself for the last 20 minutes, trying to get this out of my system. I can't finish a sentence when I try to express my frustration. I just want to get them on the phone and yell, "Who the Fuck do you think you ARE? Are you serious? Are you seriously that self-absorbed and withholding? AAARRRGGHHHH!"

Deep breathing. Yoga. Playing the guitar. Trying to feel better.

People sometimes. Come on.

How my brain works

Yesterday I heard a story about an attempted rape that happened just a couple of blocks from my house on Thursday of this week. It was at 4:44p.m. (!) in the afternoon. A 14-year-old girl got off the bus on the main street by my house, and was walking home. She noticed a man following her, began to run, and he caught up with her as she made her way up the steps of her house. He grabbed her, tried to kiss her, pulled her pants down, and was working on his own as she kicked and screamed. Another man was walking his great dane, Scooby, nearby. He heard the commotion and ran over. The criminal took off running, and the man and his dog chased him. They cornered him in an alley, and apparently the dog was intimidating enough to keep him there until police arrived.

This bastard has been arrested almost 40 times since 2001. He's got three felony drug convictions. (How the hell is he free? And what else has he gotten away with? I wonder if he was on something at the time...) He lives on the south side, and looks none too pleased in his mug shot. This jerk doesn't even live in my neighborhood. This could happen anywhere.

Can you imagine being that young girl? Well that's where my brain goes when I'm trying to go to sleep. Did I remember to lock the door tonight? What would I do if somebody busted in the window? Followed me up my front stairs? Would I lose my breath and not be able to scream? That pain must be awful. How would I tell my friends and family afterward? Would I even tell people at work? What if I have to take time off for counseling? Would I tell my boss? How would that conversation go? I practice it.

What about just afterwards, in the hospital? Who would I call to hold my hand while they administer the rape kit? Would there even be time to call someone? Would they pick up the phone, or would their cell be on vibrate in the other room for the night so they can sleep? I need to get a land line.

So I started going through the list of who I would call. Of my very dear friends, Becky, is the best in a crisis. I figure, in such a situation, you don't want someone to talk to you. You want them to sit next to you, hold your hand, and shut up. You don't want them to look at you with pity or sadness, you just want them to look at you with a this-fucking-sucks-but-I'm-here-for-you-big-time expression and get you a drink of water or hold you when you need it.

But of course, Becky lives hundreds of miles away and wouldn't be able to come to the hospital that night. Sadly, I wouldn't want immediate family there. They'd be crazy upset, and that would suck even more. I have a couple of cousins in Chicago, and they might be able to be a silent comfort. And a couple of really good friends in the area might be able to pull it off as well. For some reason, I think my Aunt S. and my aunt on my mom's side would both be good in such a situation. One is just three hours away. Ok. I can call her.

Then more questions. Would I ever even tell my parents? As a parent, I'd definitely want to know, but what good would it do? It'd just make them miserable. And worrisome. What if it happened to someone else in my family? Would I be hurt if they didn't want me there at the hospital? I could TOTALLY do the silent, pitiless, supportive thing. But is that what most people would want? Is my hypothetical interpretation of the victim's needs typical?

What must it have been like for my dad when he was in the hospital for the transplant, feeling vulnerable, having his kids around? Was it hard on his ego? Was it hard as a dad, being the one taken care of? Was it easier to visit with his siblings? Parents? Wife?

I used to walk home at night every once in a while from the subway or from a friend's house. It's just a 10 minute walk. I don't think I'll do that anymore. I'll drive or take a cab.

Sad, right? Walking's nice.