thorvalson.net : babble ether

You and Me and Everyone We Know

Getting close to back to school time for me. This whole Spring Break! thing has thrown me for a bit of a loop. The time alone at home has been good - no doubt about that - but I'm having a bit of a hard time being here this much, alone, without studying to do. It's all for the best, and there are a lot of positive things I've enjoyed about it, but it's hard being in this town and bumping into people and hearing things I don't necessarily want to hear regarding my former partner and feeling this sort of internal tug of war. Part of me will always love him and feel obligated to stand up for him. And then there's this other, increasingly louder, part of me that says he's an adult and has to come to terms with himself and who he is as a person before there's any hope of him moving forward in any semblance of an honest direction, and what the fuck business of mine is it anymore, anyway. I'm sorry to get all personal on here - I usually avoid this kind of post - but I'm feeling a bit like a fish out of water and am surprisingly anxious to get back into school. I'm doing my best to move on - I even asked someone out on a date - two different people, actually, one of them female - not so much because I'm ready to move on (I'm not, really), but as an attempt to just get out and be sociable, enjoy the company of another human being without necessarily having the weight of an impending "RELATIONSHIP" waiting in the wings. Which isn't to say I'm looking for one night stands, either. I'm just looking for the old school, I guess. The nice dinner out with someone, maybe a touching of hands and a sweet kiss goodnight - and that's it.
I've been told by a woman far wiser than me (my mother) that the best thing to do when you don't know what to do is to stay put. We tell our children, "If you ever get lost, stay where you are. Don't move." And I am trying my best to do that, but at the same time, stretching my arms out a bit and feeling around for the next direction to go in professionally, personally, sexually, artistically... and trying to just accept where I am right now, wherever I may be or whatever that may mean. There are so many arrows just shooting out of me in so many directions, in so many capacities of my life, and I guess it's just a new juxtaposition, another new chapter, and I'm so fucking scared sometimes and other times not giving a shit at all, just hoping to bump into like-minded people who are happy just being themselves, no matter how flawed, moving forward and struggling and grappling and bouncing and flopping on the sand just like you and me and everyone else who's not too chickenshit to admit it.

Beings, Doing

1st (Incredibly Short) Zoo Trip of 2008!

That would be our friend George, whom Maddie dubbed "Curious" just after this photo was taken.

And this would be the Bucket O' Mud that hath stood on my back porch since November, a not so subtle reminder of this apartment's former inhabitants. It weighs about as much as I do, and as of today, it is slowly migrating its way off my porch toward the alley. Slowly, because I went to the gym today, and although I am fiercely dedicated to Mission: Destroy Impending Mom Butt, the gym excursion was enough for one day. Again, baby steps. Milwaukee's Best. You're kidding, right?

In its place, these, which the lady at Home Depot happily accepted my payment for just before telling me of the expected turn for the worst in Wisconsin weather (big surprise).

This afternoon? Addressing Mission: Destroy Impending Mom Hair. With a new stylist. 'Cause my regular one is moving to Prague. She told me this last Saturday night when I bumped into her at a show, and introduced me to another stylist by saying, "I'm passing you on to her after I'm gone." Let's just hope the outcome of this afternoon's appointment doesn't carry the same aftertaste as that statement.

You Know You're 30 When... Cont'd

3. You spend Spring Break not drinking copious quantities of pink, fruit-flavored rum drinks and having sex with strangers, but reading Oprah's newest Book Club selection. Note to strangers: Not that I would be offended...

It is 1:39 p.m. and I am still in my pajamas. I have not read any nursing books today, nor have I even eaten. I have spent the entire. day. learning Ryan Adams, Gillian Welch, and Cheap Trick songs on guitar. My left wrist is so sore I can hardly type. WHAA-OOOOOOOH!!! SPRING BREAK!! Gonna go to the GYM! Take some VITAMINS! YEAH!

New Series: You Know You're 30 When...

1. Your inner punk rocker is screaming somewhere in the deep cavity of your chest because it's 4:30 in the afternoon and you are watching Celine Dion on Oprah... and enjoying it. Better yet, your seven-year-old turns toward you at frequent intervals to point out that your face is flushed and she wants to know if you're going to cry.

2. You're at a late breakfast with friends you haven't seen in years, and when the conversation turns to late-night infomercials promoting "dongs" (yes, they use that word on television; it was even printed on the screen), you find yourself saying things like, "Can you believe the price of a dildo these days? The mark-up is outrageous. I remember seeing one of those on the shelf at Babes in Toyland in Seattle, and it was $19.95. $24.95 at the most. AND THOSE WERE WEST COAST PRICES."

Incidentally, I ran into several old friends while in Rockford over the weekend, and lo and behold, it turns out that I have friends... two hands full, at least... who still live there... and don't have needles hanging out of their arms.

...and there were celebrations and rejoicing throughout the land.

Open Letter to Future Romantic Prospects...

...be they friend, fowl, French, female, or filamentous:

Dear Sir/Madam/Feminine Massage Device/Mold in My Fridge:

I've been doing some thinking lately regarding my personal life. Partially because, well, what the hell else is there to do in my free time (which I don't have much of, hence the casual, free-form tone of this letter), and also because, as a Woman In My Thirties, I have grown to worship at the altar of the almighty List. Plus, I read it in O Magazine.

In the past, I've been somewhat breezy when it comes to selecting a mate, a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants, go-with-the-gut sort of gal. If it felt good, then what the hell. Which isn't to say that I'm now opting for the methodical, if-it-sucks-I-must-deserve-it approach, either.

Sir/Madam/etc., I've grown up. I deserve this time of reflection, followed perhaps by a brief period of casual dating, before making any leaps of faith or sexual libido (did you know that women reach their sexual peak around age 35? T-minus 5 years. Remember that). But if you happen to come across my path at a time in which I am more receptive to the idea of opening up my chest cavity for another potential round of This Is Your Heart; This Is Your Heart Cut Up in Little Pieces and Served Steaming Back to You Served in a Creme Brulee With a Side of Fuck You, it would behoove the both of us to keep the following parameters in mind.

1. Don't be crazy. I'm all for dark humor and a little inappropriate laughter here and there (please do), but let's draw the line at pathological reliance upon defense mechanisms. For further information, please refer to any decent nursing textbook, Chapter: Fucked Up Things People Do When They've Lost It, and use that as your list of "don't"s. Clause: If you are crazy, please notify me of this verbally or in writing immediately after introduction. Example: "Hi! My name is John, and I'm TOTALLY NUTS." Present documentation where applicable.

2. Please don't be an alcoholic. I'm no prude, but let's not go overboard. I realize this is a lot to ask from The Drunkest City in the Nation, but a girl can dream, can't she? Related: please don't smoke. I completely expect you to indulge me in my occasional bad social habits, but I don't want to be tempted back into full-time status. Plus, you'll smell better and be able to spoil me longer.

3. I travel light and am usually a cheap date, but I've been lucky enough to be spoiled a number of times. Do take me out for a kick ass dinner every once in a while. I'm rough around the edges, but I purty up nice. The better the food and wine, the better the sex will be, but you'd better make it tonight because I'll be gassy in the morning.

4. Multi-media, excessive communication runs in my veins. You will not change this. In fact, if you don't love it, it's best we just part ways here and now.

5. Like sex? Me, too.

6.
Q: What do you want to be when you grow up?
A: "But I'm already a grown up..."
Get it wrong? Let's just be friends.

7. It's gonna be a while before I let you anywhere near my kid, but you should know that evaluation of you as a potential step-parent is effective immediately. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the court of Mom. Be good.

8. Be really smart, so we have fun things to debate about. Know the difference between debate and arguing.

9. Did I mention the sex part yet?

10. Be cute, but don't have more hair care products than I do. Keep in mind that I think Shane MacGowan is cute, and he's missing half his teeth.

11. WTF, OMG, u r sxy: if u text me like this, I will shove ur cell phone up ur ass. In fact, don't text me. In my generation, people talk to each other. Using real words that come out of their mouths. I cannot be responsible for what might happen to you should you actually speak in this non-language.

12. While we're on the subject of language, I believe there is no more versatile or visceral word in the English language than "fuck". If you don't like this word or any other of the four-letter variety, cover your ears and back slowly away.

13. While we're on the subject of beliefs, I consider myself an atheist with a good sense of spirituality. And I'm pro-choice. You don't have to believe what I do, but if you can't be cool with my friends - which are mostly African-Mexican hermaphroditic dwarves who voted for Nader - then we have a problem.

14. I like to laugh. Hard and often.

15. If you just happen to be a financially stable, brilliant but humble parent with a kid or two of your own, a successful doctor (medical or otherwise), and cheese and beer connaisseur who loves both Fugazi and my mom, I wouldn't cry. You're probably considerably older than me, but won't condescend or hold this against me. I won't hold it against you. Unless it's really funny.

16. I'm a little creepy sometimes. As my partner, you will be both creeped and amazed, and love this.

17. You cannot love anyone unless you love yourself. Above all, know this. Do this. Be this.

I do not anticipate these parameters changing much, ever, but additional amendments are possible, whether for further specification or my own twisted amusement. Applications available upon request or whenever I feel like it, whichever comes later. Please be prepared with at least 3 references and any applicable medical records, divorce papers, court orders, etc. If you have a considerable pile, there may be enough kindling to get me through next winter without paying the heat bill.

Sincerely,
Stephanie Jo