While hanging out with my friend from my Board Game group before the Dar Williams concert (who was awesome. I <3 her) on Saturday, he was scrolling through my iPod and noted my inclusion of music from the Labyrinth.  And we immediately went through the exchange at the beginning of the “Magic Dance” song.

These are the moments in which I know I’ve found a friend.

Dear Keithers,

Do you remember, back in the Summer of 2008, (08.08.08, to be exact) we were bemoaning our respective fates, and I, in one of my bouts of optimism said “Yeah, but by 09.09.09? Things are gonna be different.”

Since then, I feel we’ve had a bizarre bond. We had our Year of the Terrapin (a creature who lives in less than salubrious conditions) and while things did not exactly get better, there were some notable improvements. (I got my DUI, but then I got sober. You started Georgetown and made friends) 09.09.09 arrived, and then the official New Year, and we spoke of a shared apartment, on the outskirts of some city, hanging out watching Degrassi, with our cats.

2010 was Year of the Crocodile (because The crocodile survived ice ages & meteors, & he probably was like, the bronze age will be so much better, or the pleistocene will be my time to shine, & then it sucked! But you know what he did? he ate a wildebeest, wrote a sad poem in his journal, & kept on trucking, because thats what survivors do).

Things had brought us down, but Fuck That Noise.

I desperately hunted for jobs. You battled girl drama. We commiserated on gchat.

I remember when The-Job-That-Wasn’t-2.0 was up for review, we were impatiently waiting for an answer, because it would make your decision; would you look for a studio or a 2 bedroom?

I got the call at the zero hour.

The night we moved into that hellmouth in Glover Park, we sat on the floor in the living room, eating take-out, laughing in disbelief that we were finally Here, and you said “I think we’ll always remember this night.” Maybe because it was one of the few happy nights in that apartment.

We agree that nothing good happened between those walls.

(However, I still miss you, roomie)

11.11.11 approaches my friend. We’re both unemployed, we’re both trying so hard to get back on our feet and get back together. We’ve only got one more year of this. One more chance. What do you say? Want to make 2012 the year of the Panther? At this point, we have nothing to lose.

Love, your favorite roommate,

Rachel

.

.

I’m trying to think of something funny, or witty, or offhand to write about, because even I get sick of myself and my own angst. One of my favorite entries from a super-angsty time is “Thirteen Stories About One Thing” (title shamelessly stolen from the movie of the same name – which I’ve seen and remember nothing of). So I figured, it was time for an updated version.

ONE

Me: Maybe I’ll buy a 49ers shirt for [the Redskins/49ers game].
Brent: That’s a terrible idea
Me: It’ll be like when Elaine wore the Orioles hat to the Yankees game.
Brent: Yes, and how did it end for her?
Me: I believe there was heckling.
Brent: I believe she lost her job over that
Me: Well I don’t have a job to lose now do I?
Brent: It’s still a terrible idea.
Me: I want to move to a city that with really loyal fans and wear opposing t-shirts. And don’t say Chicago.
Brent: Well if you want to get sucker punched and have beer bottles thrown at you, you could move to Philly.
Me: Philly sounds like a possibility, yes.

TWO

“I want you to come back home. You belong here. You can do anything here, it’s freaking NYC. The advantage is that you have everyone who loves you here; your family and friends.

-Jill-IAN

THREE

Me: I think he was wearing jeans and um…jeans
Ellie: But the important question is: did he iron his jeans
-a long ago reference that I’d long forgotten. This comment made me laugh all day.

FOUR

Regardless of what you end up doing, you did an incredibly awesome thing moving down to DC and leaving the comfort of the job you had before.Hang in there.  You are still awesome and I’m always proud of what you are doing- whether it’s trying to build a life in DC or in NJ.

-Joe (who always knows the perfect thing to say)

FIVE

Brent: i had a dream that i had written a paper for school but i had forgotten to write a works cited page.  i hate everything.
Me: that’s terrible. ms roeser would have kicked your ass. i had a dream that i found a room in a new apartment, except the furniture was staying there, and it was puzzle/trick furniture, that you had to figure out how to open, and i couldn’t figure out how to open the drawers
Brent: The worst. I need to go to dream rehab. You should come with me.
Me: We would alienate everyone there.
Brent: How would this be any different from normal life?
Me: Touche

SIX

On the very first version of Message-Board-of-Note, many years ago, someone wrote: “Love doesn’t stink. It’s fleeting and imperfect and infuriating and very human. It’s an emotional investment, with all the dividends, interest, and risk the analogy implies, and it should be treated as nothing less.”

I saved it in a word file and its survived several computer crashes. The writer is a friend now, so I emailed him because like-like is just as infuriating and very human.

SEVEN

Bitch, get in the kitchen and make me a sandwich.
-Keith (my ex-roommate)

EIGHT

We love you very, very, very much and we want nothing but happiness and kindness for you

-From Ellie & David

NINE

Pacey, to Joey: You fall in love and it doesn’t work out, and you think it’ll never happen again. But believe me, it does. In the strangest of places it does.

Jill-IAN, in response: Oh my god, shoot me in the head

TEN

I really did not want to go into DC today for lunch. I was in my pajamas, under the covers, and I knew it was cold/rainy outside. So, I g-chatted David with “Please motivate me to get my ass out of the house  rather than cowering under the covers and crying.”

“Do it, or I’ll throttle you,” he replied. (And added “and if I have to drive to DC to kick you in the ass, I’ll be extra mean”)

I’m not quite sure why this helps, but it does. It’s been almost four years, and I can still go to David when I need someone to kick my ass and not let me get away with whimpering. He will not let me be a wuss, but he’s also always on my side.

****

A few days ago I was angsty. Totally, annoyingly, unattractively angsty, and telling Ellie all about it.

She sent me a plane ticket to visit her in December. I’m going to Minnesota in December.

“We love you very, very, very much,” her email read, “And we want only kindness and happiness for you.”

****

“You were right,” I said to Brent.

“I didn’t want to be told I was right. It’s just that I know how you are and I know why it was a stupid idea,” my best friend responded.

Well of course. He’s watched me be dumb about 87 times. I am ridiculously predictable.

He still answered the rest of my emails, and also helped push me to get out today.

****

And I act like I have faith, and like that faith never ends. But I really just have friends -Dar Williams

I am writing this from the third floor balcony of the beach house in Rhode Island. You can see the water from up here. I’m hanging out with my pseudo cousins, we’re catching up, and I’m trying not to obsess about various things. I stopped in Connecticut on the way up to see David, although I couldn’t stay as long as I would have liked. I had to get up here so we could do the grocery shopping. We are incredibly, awesomely efficient.

Yesterday, I met up with Jill-IAN and Drew in the city, for catching up, wandering around the West Village hating people, and getting delicious Mexican food by our old office. It was, of course, lovely to see both of them. I don’t think we’ll ever all be in the same city and same place in our lives ever again, which makes me a little sad, but we still have the ability to meet up once a year and to go on and on as if nothing has changed.

I know I’m 2/3rd through the 100 day challenge, but I may not be able to do it. In fact, I doubt I’ll be able to write much from up here. Right now, I’m stealing wireless from the neighbors, and I don’t know if I’ll be inclined to make the effort anyway.

Of course, now that I’ve said that, I’ll probably have a million brilliant things to write.

.

Two years ago today, after hours of protest, they finally let me leave the hospital. It was a few days after I’d gotten back from the awful Chicago trip with O-L-B, and I had dealt with it by drinking too much, and drunk dialing. I had tickets to Billy Joel, Last Play At Shea (Awesome, because Billy Joel is…was my favorite ever)

But me, being me, and being fully on board with Self Destructive Behavior, fucked it up. I wound up black out drunk and being transported to some hospital in Queens via ambulance. Kristen – a high school/college friend of mine, still has not spoken to me, other than acknowledging I was alive, since witnessing it. I still feel sickly guilty about my behavior, about the stupid thing I did in reaction to a bad situation, and also, still, how I managed to miss Billy Joel’s last play at Shea.

For the most part, I still can’t listen to Billy Joel, who I have loved since childhood. His music has imbued every Important Moment of my life, and I can’t listen to him. That still breaks my heart, that still is the coldest reminder of the destruction I caused to me and my loved ones while at the depths of Depression.

The morning after, (that past night, I had apparently drunk dialed my own mother, so deep was my cry for help) I boarded the bus to Jersey and came home. That, in many ways, remains the worst day of my life, although if we’re competing, it may be second only to March 18, 2009, which I’ve still not written about here.

I made a lot of drunken phone calls the night I was in the hospital. To O-L-B, and also to Dru, the other Libertarian boy I had stupidly gotten myself entangled with.

The whole week leading up to that incident was so awful. I was hurtling toward it, what with my stupid decision to drive to Chicago with O-L-B and then, to share a room with him.

Thank god for David. Thank god for this random Internet-Stranger-Friend, who had already saved my life months before, when he acknowledged the validity of my feelings, and recognized that yeah, I had a problem, and I wasn’t crazy to think so. Last night, I was out with other people from Message-Board-of-Note, and it reminded me how incredibly grateful I am to have found this internet community, that by all rights, I shouldn’t be a part of. I rarely, if ever, posted on H&R. It is by fate, coincidence, whatever you want to call it that I wound up on Message Board of Note, that I wound up driving to Connecticut with O-L-B as my passenger, and meeting David in person, and then, that Thanksgiving. Well, there was that Thanksgiving.

I have this text message, from that date, two years ago saved. I remember what I wrote. I was waiting for the bus in Port Authority, and I lamented “I just don’t feel like I have anything to get better for.” That text message isn’t saved. But I remember it, because I remember so distinctly what it was to feel that way.

David’s reply: “You have yourself to get better for jackass. What else would need?”

I did get better. It took awhile, but damnit, I Got Better. It was the easiest and hardest thing that I have ever had to do in my life. Staying Better is just as hard. I don’t think I could have done it, were it not for the perfect combination of job/awesome boss, my amazing AMAZING, Internet-Stranger-Friends, and my old friends.

But that text message stands out to me. That day was horrible, and that week had been horrible, and David answered my texts/calls, even though he knew that it was me for was doing the fucking up, he looked past that and still said “You have a lot of good qualities. It’s a pity you’re willing to overlook them and dwell on your flaws”

Lately, I’ve been managing to listen to the song “Vienna,” one of my favorite Billy Joel songs, which is oh-so-appropriate for my current situation. Because, I got better. Not right away, and not easily, and not without my hand being forced, but I got better.

And even though I can’t listen to most of my former favorite songs, I think that may still be the coolest thing I’ve ever done.

I’ve been at my current job for almost two years, and there are still days when I think exactly like this. Even more than two years since being summarily dismissed from the Job-That-Wasn’t, I still, as I confessed earlier this week, have nightmares about it. I still have my moments when I forget that my bosses and co-workers are NOT like the people at the job-that-wasn’t. Earlier this week, I was on the verge of panicking, and was fully cognizant of the fact that there was no reason to panic, but for some reason my brain still anticipates the reaction I would have received at that awful place.

I know I’ve talked about it 1000 times in this space (but it’s my space, and I’ll repeat myself if I want to) but I still don’t know that I will be able to properly convey how much this job has truly been among the things that saved my life since I came back to Jersey in shame two years ago. July 17, 2008, actually. That was the date I knew I was coming back, and that I was coming back for awhile.  Six weeks later I was very lucky to start this job. This job made me feel capable of something again, even when it was just putting together a bunch of meeting materials. The lack of questions I was asked is why March 18, 2009 and everything after were not nearly as horrible as they could have been.

This job saved my life.

Joe’s been in California, apartment hunting, so I haven’t been harassing him with my usual rounds of cover letters and questions. He emailed last night to agree to feed my cat next week (even though the cat is a racist) and I can’t wait to tell him about My Plan. I would not even be capable of thinking about making this plan if it were not for Joe being my sounding board and support system. He said recently, that he never would have imagined the weird friendship we’ve developed, where we hang out and talk endlessly about careers and existential crises (mostly mine) and dating. I’m sure there’s a sector of the population who would call it fate that I ran into him one morning at the bus stop in O-town, almost three years ago now. That, and several other bus rides, is how he came to be the person who drove me to work the week I was stuck and who reads constant drafts of my schizo cover letters.

Joe has saved my life.

Joe is also the reason that Brent and I talk now, constantly exchange emails. We’ll never be the same as we used to, but we shouldn’t. He was still there at my one year in March, because he understood why it was such a big deal. They all did.

My old friends have saved my life.

I had actual work to do this morning; a change of pace, as summer here has been dead. Last summer, I exchanged countless emails and was distracted by dozens of gchats with people from Message-Board-of-Note. David, I hardly think of as being from there anymore, such a good friend he was to me when I really needed it. I still have the text message he sent me after that awful, awful seven days that started with the ride to Chicago and ended with my in the hospital: “You have yourself to get better for you jackass. What else would you need?”

David has saved my life.

The rest, some who I’ve met, some who I haven’t, made me feel as if I was part of something other than just my head. From these internet strangers, I’ve gotten career advice, CDs in the mail, and, with Ellie, countless hours of ridiculous conversation about Hugh Laurie, kittens, and petty-judgmental-thoughts. They made me laugh, they agreed that O-L-B was a jerk, they looked after me via text message, and once, at thirteen days, when I fretted how little time that was, Timothy replied “No, do you know how many HOURS that is? Right now, 13 days is awesome.”

The Message-Board-of-Note saved my life.

And then there’s me, who bemoaned the fact that 2010 is half over, and that I’ve gotten nowhere. That, on a Friday afternoon, I am sitting barefooted and cross-legged in front of my computer at the same job that saved my life, unmotivated to finished the three job applications that are 3/4^th done, and also, already ready to give up on dating because it isn’t that much fun, and the distraction it provides isn’t worth the opportunity cost. I am twenty seven years old, very much single, and still answering phones, among my many other responsibilities.

But I am 190 or so days into 2010, whereas two years ago, I didn’t even know 190 hours. I’m pretty pragmatic (some days, pessimistic), still filled with regrets for the could haves, would haves, and should haves, and still could afford to lose at least another five pounds.

But there are days that I hope. There are days that I am able imagine that I will one day have a life that is not this. I still can’t picture myself with someone else, and I can’t imagine a successful career, and really, there’s nothing tangible in my vision of My Plan. But there’s just this vague sense that I can do something else, and that one day, I will have a life again, that things will get better, because they already are. I am quite far away from the depths of Depression and darkness and utter stupidity that made my life a living hell for most of 2007 and 2008.

And I got myself here. I proved my worth and I got myself this job. And then, after many false starts, I rallied the troops and I finally got myself the help I needed, that came in ways I never expected it could. And that’s why, on an ordinary Friday afternoon, I’m sitting here writing this sappy, over the top, melodramatic entry, because I didn’t really realize what happened.

Because somehow, when I wasn’t paying attention, I managed something I didn’t know I was attempting.

I saved my life.

.

I unexpectedly dissolved into tears of I-don’t-know-what while on the phone with Joe on Sunday afternoon. Michael’s attack, which I know he did not intend as cruel, upset me, because it played on my fear of being completely misunderstood, and thus thought naïve or ridiculous or whatever.

Thank God for people who understand me.

Joe reminded me that there are going to be weeks like this, where I’m going to wallow. And when I told him about all of Michael’s suggestions, he agreed that they were a little over the top. And that, regardless, I shouldn’t do anything that feels blatantly unnatural.

Essentially, Joe, who knows me better than almost anyone, believes that in order for this job hunting thing to work for me, I have to be myself. That all the rules and suggestions and nouveau ways of job hunting are not going to work if I’m being inauthentic. And while it’s true that the definition of insanity is going the same thing over and over and expecting different results it would be equally insane to try to morph into what I think someone else wants me to be.

I’ve tried it with boys. It doesn’t work with them and it’s not going to work with jobs.

And this is why Joe is the comforting, Morgan Freeman voiceover in my life.

Later, I was talking to Brent, about important subjects such New Jersey politics, bureaucracy, the last 30 minutes of the movie The Net (I love that movie. Vintage Sandra Bullock), I told him about my conversation from Saturday:

“My friend Michael has the delusional idea that I am Dagny Taggart style ambitious, where in reality, I am unconfrontational and not aggressive”

“Yes. Not enough moxie IMO”

“Yes. Actually that’s EXACTLY it.”

And besides Brent and I, I think Joe is the only other person on the planet who will get why there are points involved for the use of moxie.

I am waiting for brownies to finish baking, and ignoring my mother, who is bitching about losing her date book. I shouldn’t be annoyed by her bitching, because I lose important stuff myself ALL THE TIME. But it’s still irritating me, because my thought process is “save stuff in your email, like a normal person!” When what I really mean is “do things my way.”

Moving on.

I’ve been thinking of submitting something to Drop of Ink, but of course I’m letting myself get overwhelmed by the subject matter. No matter what I write or submit on love or loss, it’s certainly not the first or final word on the subject. Yet when I’m writing something, or editing something that’s going to be read by others, I feel the need to make myself seem more profound then I really am. Or at least, write something epic.

The boys and I went to Trivia Night again on Thursday, and pulled off another win. There’s another team there that goes every single week, that told us they always win…except when we’re there.

Little Things From Trivia Night That Make Me Happy

1) The category was movies, and Brent says dismissively “Well, if it’s something from 1994-1997, then Rachel will know it.” (I protested that I also know a lot of movies from 2002-2004) And then when the question came up it was “In Speed, what speed can the bus not drop below.” (I have seen Speed approximately 19,000 times, AND it’s been on TV frequently lately, and Brent and I quote it constantly)

2) Arguing with the boys about what we’re Neil Armstrong’s first words when landing on the moon. (They went with “One” from the famous “One small step for man,” while I argued for “Houston” based on my many viewings of Apollo 13 where they view the moon landing in the opening scene, and you know LOGIC. I was right, they were wrong, but we only missed out on a point.

3) Girly questions on Tom Hanks movies and Dove

4) The final question being an obscure geography question (although with Sporcle games, I don’t think it was THAT hard). What US state capital has the smallest population?

We got it right, other team got it wrong, we won 2 Yankee tickets, which I let the boys have, and now they have to buy me something pretty.

I do not want to think about work this weekend, as I have still not sorted files, submitted expense reports, or a number of sundry tasks I should have done yesterday. The work will still be there on Tuesday, and I will, as usual get it done before noon. Knowing this, I should not let myself have an anxiety attack on Monday night.

The brownies are almost done. And then I have to go see if I can find a white polo shirt.

I got to see both Joe and Brent this weekend, which I said, not really joking, made it one of my most social weekends in a long time!

It started with retrieving a stranded Joe from the bus stop on Thursday night, hearing all about his visit to Berkeley, and then driving home from his house with the window down, playing “Change,” because it remains the most perfectly apropos song.

 Friday, work was ridiculously quiet, as it was an official holiday in most places. Friday night Joe rescued me from absolute boredom for diner-ing, because what else is there to do in suburban Jersey? Anyway, talking with Joe about his grad school plans and having him listen to me babble (for the hundredth time) about job hunting, and laughing over ridiculous things, made me realize how much I am going to miss him. He’s been a really good friend to me these past few years. I could not have asked for a better person to be stuck in Jersey with.

 Saturday the weather was beautiful, which I kind of hate, because I am NOT an outdoorsy person. I am an indoor person, through and through, and nice weather makes me feel guilty for not going out and “enjoying the weather.” I like walking around the city in nice weather, but I don’t like hiking or most other outdoor activities. Instead I found myself cute, high heeled, strappy sandals THAT I CAN ACTUALLY WALK IN. This is a major achievement. Many years of dismal failures, and to think, I found summer footware salvation at Old Navy.

Anyway, Brent was home for Easter, and was very bored so I cajoled him into going to 7-11 with me around 10 on Saturday night (again, because what else is there to do in suburban Jersey?) and then went for an un-wacky drive. But it was nice. It was also the first time we have hung out one on one in over three years.

Sunday morning my Facebook status read “You are the one(s) who kne(o)w me better, than anyone ever will again.” Because it’s true.

Now I’m playing hurry up and wait. Both for a project to finish and on a plan to make.

More than five years ago I finished college and I quoted Rent (Early! A fact I fixated on for a long time. Look at me! I can finish college early! I’m smart! No I’m not compensating for insecurity AT ALL) Then, 2004 was amazing to me. My year in review sums that up quite well. Breaking up with the Ex (who I’d been with for more than 4 years) hooking up/dating HWSNBN, that awful summer, finding “inner fucking peace”…it was pretty amazing, back then. So when the year ended, it seemed logical to ask “How DO you measure, a year in the life?”

(For the record, I did not like Rent, at all. I remember when it was super popular, and I didn’t see it until later in its run, but HATED)

This year, objectively, the changes have not been as obvious. I am in the same job I was a year ago. I live in the same place (…still back at my parents house). I haven’t fallen in love or even had so much as a date. Much of the time, I’m bored. Suburbia drains the life out of me.

But then other times, like last Thursday night, I feel that there is no other place I could be, and no other way I could have gotten here than exactly this way.

Brent, Jon, Joe, and I went out to celebrate my one-year. This was originally supposed to include Lisa, but she’s recovering from surgery. We took a (very bad) picture of the four of us, but I look at it, us all looking awkward and stuff, and these are my boys. A year ago, I wasn’t on speaking terms with one of them. My relationship with one of them was fairly cold and way more off than on at best. And yet, they rallied. “Why didn’t you call us?” Jon (the one with whom my relationship was fairly cold) asked. “We would have helped you.”

Jon has had the occasional coffee with me, and because I always kind of feared Jon thought I was a total flake, his encouragement means a lot. Brent was once the person I labeled my best friend. And he was. Until three years ago when I fucked it up, royally. I hurt him worse than I have ever hurt someone in my life.

But there he was last night, telling me it was good to see me getting things together, with a cryptic note that I was better than I was three years ago. He is still, in so many ways, my best friend. We are not as close as we once were. In our nearly 20 year friendship we have hugged maybe 2 dozen times. But we still finish each other’s thoughts with just a glance.

And then there’s Joe. Joe, who took me out to lunch on weekends. Joe, who has helped me write and rewrite cover letters. Joe, who one week, when I was stuck and fretting, and didn’t want to ask my parents for yet another favor, drove me to work, about an hour (round trip) out of his way. It’s funny, because late into high school, Joe and Brent became close and I was jealous. And then, like many groups of high school friends do, we had a falling out of sorts, and Joe and I barely spoke for years. But he is the one I hugged the hardest Thursday night.

They are my favorite people on the planet, and the people that know me better than anyone. This is not to discount the other awesome things and people, which in themselves deserve their own entry. But really, there are a thousand scary-relevant song lyrics reserved just for this.  (I already did that here) In my car, I unabashadly sing along with songs that talk about old friends, and home, and hope, and love.

There is an immense amount of love in my life. Even if I were to only count the three of them.

I have this long, sappy post that I wrote Friday morning while on the train down to DC, that I’ll probably post (and backdate) later. I spent Thursday night with (most of) my favorite people on the planet, playing trivia. None of this would mean anything without them, so I was very happy we were all able to get together.

Friday, I took the train into the city and as usual, had time to kill before my train to DC. I was walking around Penn Station, having my usual internal freak out about how the city still feels like home, and I have this deep, visceral love for it that can’t be put into words, and why am I trying so hard for DC when NYC is home? I can’t describe it, but even in the blocks around Penn Station, where no respectable native would find themselves for any longer than necessary, there is just something that feels right.

(For the record, even if NYC is home, it’s home in an entirely different way than Jersey is. )

And then I got to DC, and the weather was beautiful, and I spent Saturday evening walking around the Capitol Hill north district with Michael, and I thought “Well…I guess I could do this too.”

I like to project, in case you hadn’t noticed.

Anyway, the weekend was quite nice and it was very good to get out of Jersey for the weekend, even though getting back on Sunday was a hassle. Now I’m back at work and it’s rainy, and I hate the federal government. Basically, they’ve taken all the worst aspects of the U.S. Healthcare system and found a way to make them worse in one ridiculous, ineffectual bill. My prediction is that anyone who currently has issues affording healthcare will still have issues affording healthcare 5 years from now. Also, if the rhetoric-realism chasm is too deep and allows for Sarah Palin to step in and win in 2012 I…well, I’ don’t know what I’ll do. Probably write an outraged blog entry about it.

Grawrl. I’m conflicted on who to side with. Just reading facebook statuses from both sides of the argument last night was frustrating.  I don’t believe health care/insurance is a fundamental right, but I also don’t believe that the Obamacare is shades of socialism. But I don’t think it’s anything to celebrate, regardless of which side of the issue you fall on.

I was super irritated for no real reason (other then the lack of ice cream in the freezer) last night. I gave up fighting it and went to bed at 10 PM.  Now I am drinking tea, wishing it were coffee, wishing it were Irish coffee. I do not like this time of year.

Yet another thing that is fantastic about my old friends. Joe & I went to the diner on Saturday afternoon. First of all, it was monsoon-ing, but out of respect for my umbrella hate he did not carry an umbrella. Which is sensible, I think, considering we were just going from the car to the diner, which was maybe 50 feet. And ok, he confessed that the REAL reason he didn’t carry the umbrella is because he knew I would refuse to use it, and then he would look like the jerk, walking with the umbrella, and letting the girl get soaked.

Anyway, I confessed to him that besides the Bon Jovi kick that I have been on as of late, I cannot stop listening to my Taylor Swift CD. He of course, rolled his eyes at me, and mockingly asked “What’s your favorite song?”

“I’m not telling you!”

He thought about it for about 15 seconds, and then said “It’s ‘You Belong With Me’ isn’t it? That it so like you”

He’s almost right. Not my favorite on the CD, but there have been times when I’m singing along with it in my car and wishing I was 14 because then the song would have been oh-so-relevant to my life.

(My favorite Taylor Swift song, for the record is “Change.” Because this things will change.)

I love that he knows me well enough to state my Taylor Swift song preferences so emphatiaclly.

Now, in case that left any doubt over whether I am in fact, a “total girl” I will confess that the only thing restraining me from buying shoes (at omg, 25% off) right now is because shipping takes too long and I am into instant gratification. However, what may moderate my utter girliness is the fact that I HATE shoe shopping. HATE it. Hate that you have to find a salesperson and ask them to get your size. And so really, buying shoes online IS the most logical choice. Also I am wearing black pants, black shoes and white socks right now. That is terribly unfashionable and thus not very girly.

And now this entry comes full circle, because I’m irritated again. I don’t mind answering questions at work; I don’t even mind questions that are not my job to answer. I’m Little-Miss-Knows-Everything when it comes to operational, budget  and administrative issues here.  But I HATE when a co-workers asks for the same piece of (very simple) information over and over again. WRITE IT DOWN.

And no, I am not PMS-ing. I think this is a perfectly reasonable thing to be irritated about. (Insert smile-y face here)

Good Things

(1) I worked from home on Thursday, because it was set to snow all day, and both my bosses have the attitude “It’s way more important for you to be safe than anything that’s going on in the office.” Sadly, many bosses do not have this attitude, so I appreciate it.

(2) The power went out on Thursday night and Friday, it was still snowing and I couldn’t get to work. And I obviously couldn’t work from home, because the power was out. My boss was totally understanding.

(3) I went to family friend’s house on Friday night, for dinner. They are my parent’s best friends and I grew up with their kids, and they are basically some of the best people in the world.

(4) I flirted with a Libertarian from Canada who I have never met IRL, and probably never will, on Facebook chat last night, for the second Saturday in a row. No, I have no shame. Why do you ask?

(5) I talked to Lisa last night about anniversaries, pathetic Saturday nights, and comparing yourself to people you graduated with. There is something truly comforting about the people who know all your flaws and still love you.

Not-So-Good-Things

(1) No power.

(2) A Research Associate application I put together could have been better. Why did I not do more quantitative research in grad school?

(3) General laziness.

More details to follow. Monday I’ll likely be very busy at work, due to not being in the office on Thursday/Friday, but after that I have to write about these things, and also how Jon Bon Jovi is one of the wisest men in the world.

Brent, Joe, and I went to Trivia Night locally last night and I had a ridiculous amount of fun. First, I laughed more in one night than I have in a month. There was competition for lamest confession and discussion of 90s music. Then Trivia began. We scored perfectly the first two rounds. And then we bombed the third round (stupid questions such as “Which slipper did Cinderella lose; her left or right?” and questions-we-should-have-gotten-right-but-second-guessed) and didn’t do much better on the fourth. We were resigned to losing, and then the final bonus round was geography (blue category!), so we bet the max, and we won.

From my description you can see that trivia is Very Important and that this victory made me (well, us) way happier than it rightly should have. In the car ride home we were still discussing it, and future team strategy, and I was like “Guys, you do realize that we’re the only ones there to tonight who are STILL DISCUSSING THIS.”

But I wouldn’t have it any other way. It feels good to be a team again (Joe and Brent were on academic decathlon with me in high school) and to make ridiculous references throughout the game that no one else would get but us.

I didn’t fall asleep until around 2am, for the second night in a row. I am definitely feeling that this morning and the coffee is doing little to dull it. I have ice cream stashed in the freezer here, and I’m tempted to break it out. Work continues to be filled with crankiness all around.

But I am in a better mood than I’ve been in all week – maybe even all month. Getting rejected from the Libertarian Fellowship certainly left me in a funk and I’ve also hit the wall in terms of available things to apply for in DC. It’s frustrating, because I know I’d be perfect for several of the think tank positions I’ve applied for – there are just other people who would be even more perfect, and they’re probably already in the DC area. I’m that at the point yet where I could realistically (or would even want to) just quit my job, move to DC, and hope for the best with the job search and the powerlessness has left me irritable.

But being around two of my favorite people on the planet, who understand me better than anyone in the world, has done wonders for my spirits. At least for today. And allegedly, that’s the only one that should matter.

And yay, Friday! I may actually be social this weekend (an acquintences birthday tomorrow evening) and then, what the hell it is already February. If I start talking about how time is flying, and how I’m going to be, omg, 27 in May, I’ll just ruin my good mood, so I’m going to stop, and go do something productive.

I went to the diner with Joe this afternoon to help him with Grad School admissions essays – physics majors don’t do a lot of writing.

After we went over his essays, we slipped into our usual conversation of what we’re trying to do, the escape we trying to make, and what our two mutual friends are doing along those lines. For all the differences we have on paper, we’re in a remarkably similar place. (Still stuck, for those playing at home)

As we were leaving, and I was talking about my weekend in DC, I admitted that a tiny part of me was fearful of running into The Ex in Georgetown. And I was being SUCH a girl, running over in my head whether I look better or worse than the last time I saw him – which was over five years ago now. In the “worse” column was the weight gain. In the “better” column was more put together.

“And,” Joe added. “You’re just hitting your stride. There’s always something attractive about that.”

I know what he means. I’ve said it myself before – that confidence is hot, and the first rule of confidence is faking it. But hitting my stride? I wouldn’t go that for. The Libertarian Fellowship is an attempt to get back into my stride, and my success thus far in the interview process has helped push that along, but there are still 3-5 rounds to go, and if I fail, I’m back to where I started.

It’s out of my hands now. All I can do is wait until mid-January, make another trip to DC, and impress 3-5 more rounds of people. Simple, right?

My feet are killing me from walking around the city in high heeled, pointy-toed boots. Michael was late meeting me, so I killed time by wandering around Union Square. I’d forgotten about the Union Square market, that makes the area even more of a people-traffic nightmare.

But anyway, Michael finally arrived, we got delicious Indian food, walked down by the Brooklyn Bridge (at his request. It was ridiculously windy and also boots not meant for walking) and got coffee. We were already in Tribeca, so I decided to just find the WTC PATH station. It seems to have lost the spell of HWSNBN. However, I had also forgotten that the PATH weekend service has been cut even MORE if that were possibly. It’s incredibly inconvenient to get to Hoboken Train Station from WTC on a weekend. I hate the PATH.

Also, taking the train in/out of the city is the only time I buy semi-trashy magazines anymore because even though they are the exact same thing as when I was 16,  they keep me from throwing murderous gazes at parents who let their little children SHRIEK the entire train ride.