SomethingClever.net v7.0

September 4, 2011

So, I'm getting married again. In less than 1 week.
This time, it's ... normal. I feel good. I'm calm.
Every other person with whom I've been speaking is asking me "why aren't you more freaked out?" or commenting that I seem like "the calmest bride [they'd] ever seen!" Really? Is there something I should be freaked out about? I'm almost starting to feel a bit freaked out from my lack of anxiety than anything else.
I must say, though -- Peter is amazing. He's the person with whom I've felt so completely "me"... or at least, I've allowed myself to be so completely me. There's no pretense, no bullshit. There's no lying and there's no worrying whether he means what he's saying. There's no second-guessing or questionable ulterior motive. There's no one pulling strings from behind him, a hulking frame so obviously standing there, like a hovering beast. And, ultimately, there's everything I've been looking for.
I'm on holiday this week and next. I'm on vacation from school and from work. I'm really looking forward to this.

May 25, 2011

Peeling a grapefruit reminded me of California. I grew up moving back and forth between the south San Francisco bay area and just north of Sacramento. There were orchards still then, though far fewer than there had been just a decade prior to my birth. The orchards didn't grow citrus - those were found further south - but they used citrus oil on the trees to keep bugs away.

I learned that one could peel a grapefruit and eat it like an orange while sitting in front of a computer at my dad's house in Sunnyvale. I had never entertained the possibility of eating a grapefruit in any other manner than cut in half and dug out with a spoon. Since then, 95% of grapefruits I've eaten have been peeled and sectioned like oranges. It was hot that day I ate the grapefruit in my dad's office; this was during the summer the monitor broke due to excessive use during a heat wave (i.e. introduction to the GUI of the internet by me), slowly turning purple over a month. I think I was grounded for that. It was 1994.

Things happen when I eat pizza for breakfast.

April 28, 2011

08:41 so i somehow within the last 10 minutes bit or cut one of those
things under my tongue which is typically hidden under my tongue
and I cannot physically bit as it doesn't reach anywhere NEAR MY
TEETH
08:41 so how the FRAK did that happen?
08:41 even better is that now it hurts and it's SWOLLEN
08:41 why does my body do this to me?

February 21, 2011

I got a lot of shredding done last night. I shredded some old notes to (and from) ex-boyfriends and remembered how painful it was to be in relationships with them; I found legal paperwork from 10 years ago, reminding me how bad I was with money at one time; I found (and destroyed) several pounds worth of paperwork I filled out and signed in my quest to become a homeowner, something that just never happened at that time, which, really, turned out for the best.
Some of the gems I found, however, were notes I wrote when I was by myself. I had just moved for Portland nearly 4 years ago, and I was forcing myself to go out a lot to meet people, and though it didn't happen very quickly nor naturally on my part, I did meet some really fucking awesome people, especially in the Timbers Army. People I count as good friends to this day, and one whom I'll be calling my husband in a few months. These writings were lonely and oh-so emo, but I love the fact that I remember exactly where I was when I wrote each of these, and how I was feeling. I'm so glad that I had these experiences, and that they've led to a more happier me.

Written at the Bullpen Pub sometime in August 2007
I suppose it's totally inappropriate to commandeer an entire table for myself, but the others paired off & I'm again alone. I guess I'm kind of hoping that someone will come and sit with me, though that's probably not going to happen while I look busy writing. Maybe I should just sit here looking bored & drink my beer & go. And that might just be what ends up happening. I'm not good at approaching groups of strangers, even drunk strangers. And here come the pipers.
Lord knows that the crowd here is mostly older folk, & if anyone sits at my table, it'll likely be one of these chummy pairs that have lived so long, nothing is embarrassing.
Everyone has their own friends already, their own comfort zones, & I'm infringing upon their borders w/ wishful eyes.
The game tonight was shite. Both teams played poorly, & the goal PT scored was taken away to much hissing & booing.
I can feel people eying me, the girl in the green striped shirt, writing hungrily on tiny pieces of paper w/ a 2/3 full beer. I suppose once I run out of paper, I'll have to live life again as a normal fan drinking a beer, someone approachable & nice - sweet & undaunting, cute and not [unreadable - unassuming?].
At that point, I may meet a neighbor or a new friend. Or maybe just someone fed up enough to sit down @ a 3/4 empty booth next to a stranger, so good at avoiding the world after being part of a great community - part of the Timbers Army. Alone amongst the 100s.

I really wish I had written more stuff that was maybe less moody and more upbeat about learning to live in a new city. I did love it here, and do love it here still. I just think I actually took time to reflect when I was drinking by myself... hah.

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