Merry Christmas, everyone.

Here: we awoke, we opened presents, we ate, we slept, we watched Christmas Story, we watched Arrested Development, we ate, we drank, we sat in the hot tub as the cold wind froze our hair, and we watched Who Killed the Electric Car.  It’s a good day.

My favorite present:

Aren’t they cute!?!?! And compact?!?  Does anyone need measuring cups, a colander, or a plastic mixing bowl?  I’ll be giving all of the above away soon…

It’s sunny and cold here.

My sister had to watch Who Framed Roger Rabbit in school.  Something to do with cable cars and Goodyear.  I don’t know that I’ve seen it since my 7th birthday… (it was PG-13 — kind of a big deal).

Writing energy going elsewhere at the moment, again — round two!  I’m tiny steps away from being done with the application process (steps = writing one new essay and modifying another a few times).  Five down, four to go.

It’s gorgeous outside.  Snowy and white and quiet and slick.  And I love my apartment — the warm third-floor perch, with the orange light of the city and stark branches through the window.

Trying to control the chaos with a spreadsheet…

Surprised and honored to be the “volunteer of the month” at the crisis hotline — I still only feel like I know what I’m doing half the time.  Funny how a paper certificate and announcement help (my) morale.

I am tired.  I could sleep nonstop, for days and days.  I think I’m fighting off something.  Work is also incredibly boring right now (not many people around, wrapping up winter quarter requests).  It usually only takes a couple days of this before I focus on some backburner project and have at it (soon, soon!).  I’m quitting caffeine (I think it only hurts me).  Right now the quitting is hurting me.

A note on nesting:

So lately I’ve been more interested than usual in dating, as you all know.  Also, I’m touched — seriously touched by things like this:

and this:

and even this:

I’m sorry.  I hope you’ll still read my blog.

Anyway, what the effing eff is going on?  One friend says my “uterus is fluttering,” and I think he’s freaked out.  I don’t want children at this point.  It’s all going to be okay, everyone.

However: I have gained, inexplicably, about ten pounds since this whole thing started, despite not really changing my eating or exercise habits in any negative way apart from more coffee and, subsequently, more soy milk.  So I’m wondering if it’s not just some estrogen thing.  Thus the quitting of the caffeine…  If it were just the weight and fuzzy-kitty-baby-love, it would be one thing, but I don’t want to have to buy new jeans and bras right now.

Upon realizing I had an extra batch of transcripts, I decided to apply to one more school.  So three down, six to go.  It is not my favorite process ever.

(by Kenny Be, the Westword)

OMG, my internet isn’t working this weekend and I’m dying!!  Okay, actually it’s probably good for me, but kind of a pain.  Comcast is coming out this afternoon, and some degree of normalcy will be restored.

“No one ever ever knows anyone.” — Rules of Attraction.

“You could not step twice into the same river; for other waters are ever flowing on to you.” — Heraclitus

Two very short love stories, poached from the lives of people I admire (I hope they don’t mind)…

—- 1 —-

A is, by nature, spare in her belongings; for her, moving is an occasion to strip down to essentials again and again. Her significant other keeps almost everything. Cheap souvenirs from past vacations, equipment for sports not played in a decade. For him it’s never a question of whether or not to rent a storage space, but rather how large it should be. They occasionally clash on this particular point. Once or twice, cleaning their desk, she’s thrown away his old receipts. Inevitably they argue when he asks about one that has been discarded. Why do you need them? What good are they now if you’re not going to return anything, if there’s no warranty? she asks. He answers that some carry meaning, and confesses that he still has the receipts from their first date.

—- 2 —-

As part of a game, a friend made a mysterious comment at J’s significant other’s birthday party a few years ago. It was an inside joke that J wasn’t privy to the meaning of, referring to a period of time they had spent traveling separately a few months after they’d met and a few months before they were engaged. The comment also seemed to refer to a girl in a foreign country. Was there another woman? Had he sown some wild oats without ever confessing? She tried let it go, but eventually it came up again. The girl the inside joke referred to was her. For years she had been jealous of herself.

You are on a date at an Indian restaurant in a suburban strip mall, and in walks someone you went on a few dates with last month and just sort of never called again.  Luckily he is also on a date (it seems), and you’ve straightened your hair for the first time in a year or something, so you’re sort of incognito and awkward interaction is avoided.  Suburban freaking strip mall.  Should have gone to the Country Buffet across the parking lot…

Last week you went out with someone who is applying to three of the same schools as you, to his friend’s concert.  You know the friend from library school.  And then two days later you meet another guy who also knows the friend from library school and lives above the venue you just visited, and was there the night you were, though a little later.

It is not such a small town.  But a small group of people frequent a small number of places, I think.

me: asdfkjhasdkjf;alksdj;aksdja;lksdj  dating is ridiculous.
sam: what happened?
me: I’m just tired of it.  I went out with a guy last night who knew everything.  It’s making me misanthropic again.
sam: guh
did you hear back from McDreamy?
me: nooooooooooo.
so.  have you read this book http://www.amazon.com/Moneyball-Art-Winning-Unfair-Game/dp/0393057658 ?
sam: by Billy Beane?
me: (this relates to dating, I swear)
Michael Lewis?
sam: oh, uh uh
I read the original by Beane.
me: oh.
hm.
about statistics?
and “even if a guy has a swing that looks totally ridiculous and wonky, if his stats are good, that’s what matters”?
sam: yeah
me: okay, so…
sam: I can see how it could relate to dating
sure.
me: McDreamey (we’ll add the “ey” to his moniker) is reading said book.
and it inspired him to just log on to el cupido and e-mail the girl with the highest statistical match.
which was me.
okay, fine.
sam: hahahaha
awesome.
me: but then Know-it-all last night goes on and on about wonky swings and “not looking right” etc., etc….
in regards to the same book.
and so now I wonder if I appeared terribly flawed and wonky looking to McDreamey,
but because of our statistical match he e-mailed anyway.
sam: haha
me: this is too much thinking, I know.
sam: probably a little too much.
if only there was a blog where you could put this stuff.

Between work and volunteering yesterday afternoon I saw the mailman pull up in a Cadillac Escalade, park on the wrong side of the street, and unload the mail.  Sort of weird.