Don’t Be Surprised… May 12, 2008

I have held off on writing a post–a real post–for quite a while now.  All the things I have inside of me that I would normally purge into this bizarre, real but not real world of the blog-o-sphere, I have had to contain for months now, not having had the gumption until recently to right a serious wrong, and not wanting to spill the beans in such an impersonal, public forum.  Of course, I have no idea who reads this, or how often, so it could have all been for nought…I may have bottled things up for months with no real reason to do so.  JJJ never was very technically savvy or tuned in…

So, here’s the official scoop:  I had the most amazing moment of clarity while running lunchtime errands about a week and a half ago.  I could see everything so perfectly clear, all of a sudden.  I was left wondering how I had managed to keep my blinders up for so long, afterwards, driving to the post office, having to turn my car around over and over, as I kept missing my turn.  My mind races constantly, but it doesn’t usually race in such a precise, articulate manner, and I suppose this change of nature is what made me listen so closely.  And here’s what my brain told me, in no uncertain terms.  

1.  Los Angeles is a poor career choice at this precise time. I do believe it is still in the cards for me, some time in the future, but I would be sacrificing a very broad, very functional network that I have been building for five years now, and to move to L.A. would mean I would have to start from scratch.  Not necessarily a deal breaker, but combined with the fact that my brain also told me that…

2. JJJ and I had entered into a toxic cycle of unhealthy, unstable non-relationship relationship.  We weren’t together, but I certainly didn’t feel single, either.  We kept up with each other most every day, and there were expectations and obligations that friends don’t have for one another.  And that was okay for a while.  I guess it made me feel less alone, or maybe I had convinced myself that it would work itself out in time.  Except this one afternoon, driving a stack of graduation announcements to the Big Blue Box, I realized I wasn’t in love with her, not at all, and I hadn’t been for a while.  I wasn’t aware that I could fool myself for so long, let alone draw someone else into the lengthy falsity with me.  I feel terrible for flipping on a dime, but there’s no going back from it, and I broke it off with her.  It didn’t end well.  She hates me.  I doubt we will even be friends, somewhere down the line.  She told me never to contact her again, and I have to respect that.  It’s okay with me, really, because I don’t miss her.  That makes me feel cold inside.  It makes me feel like a liar and a bitch, but I never said an untrue thing to her; I meant everything I ever said, in the moment I spoke it.  I don’t know that that accounts for much, but it’s true nonetheless.  This entire scenario is compounded by the fact that I…

3.  Met someone else.  She’s amazing.  She blows my mind every time we talk.  It’s as though someone has crawled into my brain, and they’re throwing their voice from her mouth.  She’s close to my age, (actually even a year and a half older!!) and I hadn’t realized how lonesome I was for someone that could understand what it feels like to be a woman on the verge…on the verge of a career, on the verge of middle age, on the verge of fucking losing it at this school…the understanding we share is a powerful narcotic, an aphrodisiac.  She makes me laugh, she shares my values and my dreams, she’s so honest it amazes me, and my god is she hot.  It’s as if she was designed with my needs and wants in mind, so perfectly…physically, emotionally, intellectually…it’s all there.  Oh, and she moves out of the state in 18 days.  So. Effing. Typical.  I met her at the end of last summer.  I was attracted to her immediately.  I was trying to be a good girl with a girlfriend.  She gave me her number.  I missed the signals.  I never called.  I was an idiot.  I wasted so much time on a dead-end situation, when there was this amazing thing waiting for me, and all I had to was pick up the phone.  She told me a few days ago that I was a fool to wait so long to call her.  I have to agree, and it only makes me want her that much more that she will actually challenge me and hold me accountable.  I need that.  The really important moral of all this, aside from my ramblings about how much I like her, is that she served an invaluable function as A Point Of Perspective.  I had forgotten that I didn’t need to settle, that JJJ’s 50% good would never balance out the 50% bad, and that there are actually people in the world that contain ALL of the qualities I find so necessary, so attractive in a relationship.  Mind you, P and I are not in a physical relationship (yet)…I had to conclude things with JJJ, and P is more than a little uncomfortable with entering into something that will clearly be the opposite of casual, what with only 18 days left to go.  But that being said, we are definitely engaging in some kind of relationship…we’ve been going on the cutest, most fun dates ever, nearly every day, and we just can’t stop talking to one another, from the time we’re both awake, until one of us finally cuts it off at bedtime.  It’s fulfilling in an entirely different way from anything I’ve ever entered into, and that gives me hope…except for the terrible timing.  Dammit.  Also, English is her second language, and it simply couldn’t be hotter when she speaks to me in Spanish.  I’ve always been a sucker for accents.  I’m just amazed at how quickly I’m falling for her, when we have been taking pains not to get physical…and painful it is, lemme tell ya.  It’s hard not to be as close to her physically as we are emotionally.  It’s torture, actually.  

In summation, I graduate in 18 days (yep, on the same day that P leaves for NYC), I am rapidly falling in love with someone that has the potential to be good for me (finally!), and I’m moving to NYC when my lease is up in August.  I found the job of my dreams at a decorative painting studio as a conservation/restoration technician in Manhattan (I haven’t gotten it yet, but I’m gonna be positive…), I already have a roommate lined up for the move (a 3rd year grad costume design student that I adore) and I’ve never been happier, or felt lighter at heart than I do Right This Second.  

So there’s that.  

Dollywood!!! May 2, 2008

As a student at an art school, I have embraced the unconventional.  This includes, but is no means limited to, the fact that our Senior Trip is taking us to Dollywood.  Six of us are piling into a big white van, and driving to Tennessee, to stay in a friend’s mom’s cabin (with two, count them TWO, hot tubs!) and seven bedrooms for six of us.  I couldn’t sleep last night for the anticipation.  

I know that must sound crazy, but Dollywood has always been a legend in my mind, a place I’ve always needed to see to convince myself of the reality.  This might sound bizarre, but it’s a bit of a dream come true that I finally get to visit (for free, luckily!).  It feels like a pilgrimage of sorts…which is kinda crazy, because I love Dolly Parton but her music isn’t exactly my jam.  I’m in it for the 9 to 5 Rhinestone Cowboy.  She won’t be there this weekend, but I will still enjoy the water ride.  

AND, to really make my day, we are stopping in Asheville for dinner.  I will spend the entire two hoursin the car trying to figure out what the best place to eat is, only to have TazerLaser complain that there aren’t enough meat and potatoes on the menu.  The man doesn’t eat a single green thing.  Not one.  Additionally, no bread, no cheese, and no sauces aside from ketchup or barbeque.  He lives on hamburger patties, no bun, and french fries or mashed potatoes.  Seriously.  It pisses me off that he’s skinny.  Where am I supposed to take him???  I want Jerusalem Garden, or Lucky Otter, or Sunny Pointe, or maybe even Doc Cheys.  He wants Wendys.  Oh, TL.  

And the weekend begins…  I can’t wait to see what kind of shenanigans I can catch on film for blackmail and entertainment purposes later.  

38 Days, But Whose Counting? April 22, 2008

Graduation has crept up on me.  I only have four Mondays left to go at this place, and then I’m free, paper in hand, to go out and make good use of the skills they’ve ground, beaten, stamped into me.  I have every confidence that I’m going to have a long, happy, lucrative career, but this Graduation Thing, it just…snuck up when I wasn’t looking closely.  All the studying and the planning and the practice have led to this moment, and perhaps I’m just struggling with how to handle success after years of figuring out how to handle failure.  One is just as scary as the other, I’m quickly realizing.  

Of course, hand in hand with the fear of What I’m Going To Do Next, With Who, And Where, is an overwhelming sense of elation at the accomplishment of managing to survive it all, let alone painting 28 shows in the process, and learning lots of fantastically unique and interesting skills along the way.  I am happy that I made the decision to attend a conservatory, but I’ll be damned if I know how people do it straight out of high school.  The schedule has been so demanding for so long, now that I have some ‘free time’ (since my last college show is up and running!), I don’t actually know what to do with myself.  My homework is getting done and there are hours left in the day to use however I may choose.  Lately, that has meant naps and movies, mostly, and lemme tell ya, nothing could be sweeter.  

Someone asked me today how I was doing and I replied, without thinking, “I’ve never been better”.  All evening, since that encounter, I’ve marveled at the thought that I’ve never used that phrase before, because I’ve never been this happy with the shape my life has taken.  I still have Plenty of Issues, for sure, but I think I must be learning how to cope with them in healthy, mature ways.  Or something.

Or maybe I’ve gone and grown up.  I’m too old to feel like a kid and too young to be comfortable with the phrase Middle Aged.  I still don’t have the hang of this responsibility thing.  Maybe I should go to grad school, and postpone the inevitable three more years.  

In other news, I love my new job.  It’s frickin awesome…exactly the cooking job I’ve always wanted, the people are tres cool, the food is fresh and delicious and organic and unprocessed, just high brow enough to satisfy a gourmet palate but simple enough to delight the timid eater, the schedule is perfect, and there is a true sense of community involved with being a member of the staff.   Conversation overheard, between a waitress and a busboy:

Busboy: Why don’t any normal looking people eat here?

Waitress:  Cuz no normal looking people work here.  

I feel right at home.  And I feel like a baller.  Landing this job was the equivalent to scoring a spot on the line at Tupelo Honey in Asheville; this restaurant is a local treasure, and I feel so thankful that I’m a part of that now.  The steady paychecks don’t hurt, either.  

I hate to say it but I almost feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I’m so happy, things are going so well…the pessimist in me says it won’t hold.  Just so long as it holds for another 38 days, I can handle the rest.  

 

Shakespeare and Omelets April 13, 2008

My last show of my undergraduate education is in tech, which means my job is almost Officially Over.  I am so overjoyed and relieved and excited, I don’t really have words to describe how much lighter I feel now that this task is nearly complete.  I can paint a marble now, that’s for sure.  It was my one real weak spot so far as faux-finishing is concerned, but I have taken care of that, rather neatly, and developed a style of marble treatments that is both unique and effective.  Now I can go earn $150 an hour to make some rich persons bathroom look like marble instead of plaster.  

I got a summer job yesterday.  I will be the omelet chef at the pre-eminent brunch place in town.  My job interview was pretty hilarious; I met with the owner, and her first (and only) question was: “Are you a badass.  Because you have to be a badass to work in this kitchen.”  My response: “Check.”  She liked my answer, apparently, and jumped immediately to the scheduling part of the interview.  The pay is clearly not exceptional, not what I was earning last summer, but I am So Effing Excited that someone has finally given me a job cooking.  This restaurant particularly rocks my world; it’s one of my favorites in town, and their food as well as their decor and atmosphere suit my style and flair perfectly.  I anticipate we will be a good match.  Best part is, I only have to work on Sundays until after graduation/vacations.  I expected her to laugh when I told her I needed the first three weeks of June off, but she just shrugged and said that she could work around that.  At the end of the interview, she told me her daughter (that I had called as a lesbo about a year ago) liked me, and that was good enough for her.  Also, there is a surprising amount of street cred people lend to working at this particular restaurant, and I have a feeling this is a perfect oppurtunity to expand my network to include people that I don’t go to school with.  I’m nervous about starting a new job (it’s been a while…) but I’m really stoked to be working a kitchen, albeit one that serves up low-brow gourmet, just like I’d cook for my friends if I had more money.  

In less than fifty days, I will be at the beach, Very Expensive Piece of Paper in hand, drinking fruity drinks in the sunshine, barely believing that I weigh less than I did when I was a senior in high school, basking in the radiance of hot sun and accomplishment.  I feel like, at this point, I’m just hanging on for the ride.  The emotions are definitely creeping towards the surface, but my sadness for leaving this school and these people and my house and my routine is tinged with the excitement for my new beginning.  Somewhere new and far-away and frightening and gorgeous, and I’ll be a stranger again, and I’ll have to get my game face out of the corner of my closet.  I can’t wait.  I’m terrified but I can’t wait.  

I had fill number 3 on Thursday…this time, the doctor only had to stick me once, but only because I requested we go straight to flouroscopy, so it could be a one shot deal.  I made the mistake of turning my head towards him when he asked me if i was okay (during the procedure) and I saw the needle sticking straight out of my abdomen, standing up of its own volition (the doctor was studying the x-ray with his hands on his hips) just like I was Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction, but eight inches lower.  It was gross, and I had to will myself not to throw up for about a minute, but it was over quick, at the very least…and then I lost six pounds by the next day.  It’s blowing my mind, a little.  

Completely unrelated: I found myself driving behind an incredible asshole, who perfectly summed up what I believe to be wrong with the ignorant masses in this, our great country of America.  Picture if you will a 1988 Datsun truck, the paint stripped away to a flat gray, jacked up on tires taller than me.  Behind the wheel, a greasy redneck with a mullet that flapped in the breeze.  On the roof, the Papa Johns light-up pizza sign was almost invisible, it was so far out of the line of my sight.  His license plate told me his truck was heavy, it had earned a Weighted plate.  Can you imagine the nerve of this guy?  A passenger truck so heavy that it required the same plates an 18 wheeler sports?  And he’s driving pizzas!  I know they don’t pay him that much per mile; I’ve delivered pies before.  The icing on the cake, the real piece de resistance, was the one and only bumper sticker attached to the truck.  It was small, maybe 3″x5″, positioned directly above the Weighted tag, below the 7′ tall tail gate.  It read, “If you are close enough to read this sticker, you will be shot.”  And then it was translated into sanskrit.  

I won’t miss the rednecks when I go.  

Does Not Compute April 4, 2008

First of all, it’s really driving me crazy that the new formatting for this blog won’t allow me to use the return key.  I need to be able to make paragraphs.  Otherwise, the five paragraphs turn into one, unappealing jumble of words, lacking the emphasis and grammatically correct usage of The Paragraph.  Seriously driving me crazy.  I know I’m a technological invalid, but come on.  Let me push enter and create my paragraphs.  Please.  Re-entry into scholastic life was rocky, going from Paradise to The Final Push.  My tan is still holding strong, and therefore I have a daily reminder that I had a lot of fun recently; this is good, as it keeps me from pulling my hair out at the roots and walking out of class(es).  The notion of a speedy eight and half weeks until my graduation is a little bit crazy.  I can feel the Emotional Trainwreck inside of me gearing up for a really world class temper tantrum.  On the one hand, I am about to crawl out of my skin the need to move out of NC is so strong.  I love my home.  I’ll always return.  But 30 years in a row is enough for now.   I dream about my departure to L.A. every day, five times at least.  It’s scary and feels very far away right now, but there’s a sense of satisfaction, knowing I have finally come far enough in my life to pursue my dreams with the confidence that I will achieve all of my goals.  L.A. is where 8 year old me wanted to live, and now, 22 years later, it still sparkles just as bright.  On the other hand, I hate leaving this lush, gorgeous place full of so many people that I adore and cherish and need.   I’m not worried about friendships falling away, I have a pretty good track record of keeping in touch; its my brother, and my parents, and real barbeque sandwiches and the mountains and the beach and all the green green trees, all the hicks and the lazy rivers and the cheap beer I used to enjoy.  Mostly, I think I’m scared because this move signifies such a change, that of everything I’m letting go of.  I’ve held on to too many old habits and buried fears that just Aren’t Who I Am Anymore, and I feel (hope) that this move will be just the thing to help me really air out the corners and put things back in, organized and tidy.  Mind you, I’m a bit petrified to walk away from this enviroment, these people, my perfect, delightful, lovely dream kitchen, and the ability to worry about my grades instead of worrying about student loan payments.  It is the right decision, though.  I can tell something grand is waiting for me out there, I just have to show up and find it.   In other news, my last student theater experience is nearly over.  One and a half more weeks of Paint Frenzy, and then what essentially amounts to my thesis show, is complete.  And oh my gosh, it’s gonna be memorable.  Unorthodox, too abstracted, and way too fuckin’ long at 4 hours with only one intermission, but people will think about it.  That’s why I like my job, I suppose.  It would seem people think far too little, of late.   

South Pacific Sojourn March 30, 2008

After beginning the vacation in a fashion most true to our nature (we stayed up too late on our first night together in eight months and consequently missed our flight the next morning, pushing back our departure one day…which was fine, because it was a good day of waiting to leave), we had, undoubtedly, the best time I’ve ever had.  The most perfect, special, beautiful, idyllic, and romantic moment in my life happened on Day Three, as we were stuck on a bridge, in a freak rainstorm, with rainforest jungle waterfall on one side and wide blue Pacific on the other.  It was pure magic.  The first place we stayed was literally perfect.   Every single detail was arranged perfectly, from the food, to the customer service (the entire staff knew our names by the time we checked in), to the landscape design, to the massages, to the lighting, to the unassuming sophistication of the decor…it was just perfect.  Seriously, if you’re ever looking for a perfect get-away, check out Kona Village Resort.  Our private hale was about a half mile walk along the beach from everything (pool, dining areas, concierge office, parking lot), so we got to enjoy lush trails on the way to and from our perfect, private, thatched bungalow.  The shrimp I ate on the first night of our arrival was the best I’ve ever eaten, and I’m sure only three hours out of the ocean.  The restaurants were 5 star, and we ate like queens three times every day.  Because my computer’s battery is low (as usual), the highlights:  snorkeling daily with the sea turtles that live in the bay opposite outdoor dining area number 2, the helicopter ride over the very-recently-active volcano Pele, (my favorite) the hike around the rim of an extinct volcano in Wai’pio Valley to the rainforest waterfall, shopping on Scenic Route 19, cruising around the island in our hot rental convertible, the snorkeling day trip to a marine sanctuary 7 miles down the coast from our hotel, the sunset cocktail cruise where we drank pina coladas and saw baby humpbacks, parasailing at 1200 feet on a hazy day over Kauiluhau, the jet ski rentals that took us to the middle of a large, choppy bay, and the gigantic, blue-tiled hot tub complete with waterfall and surrounding fresh water pool which spilled into a large pool, perfectly heated so as to feel cooler but not cold, underneath the palm trees on a full moon.  Perfect, romantic  m a g i c. I have never felt so happy or so content in my entire life.  Odd that that could happen with my ex-girlfriend.  Not surprisingly, I’m having a hard time staying her ex.  We just have so much fun together.  She’s my favorite adventure companion, my perfect dinner date, the softest shoulder to sleep against.  Our problems didn’t dissolve because of ten days in paradise, but there was a certain measure of perspective granted me; we love each other too much, and get along too well, and have entirely too much fun with one another, to just give up.  Nothing has changed…I’m still single and she is whatever she is, but my heart has changed, warmed, softened, or maybe just remembered what it feels like to have such a perfect counter-weight.  I am missing her badly since our return to the mainland.  I’m finding it hard to sleep alone in the bed we shared for a year.  I crave the color of her eyes; more blue than even the waters of the Pacific.  

A Proper Spring Break, Finally March 14, 2008

Finals are over…almost.  I have one more in two and a hours that I probably should be studying for right now, but I read all of the materials, so I feel like I should be able to at least bullshit through most of it.  After that, I’m done.  Off to Raleigh for the evening, then I fly to Chicago tomorrow afternoon, spend one night in Chicago (where I get to see Hollis and Brian!!!  YAY!!!) and then we get up early the next morning for our direct flight to Honolulu.  I am literally beside myself with excitement.  I’ve hardly been able to get anything done this entire week, which is unfortunate, seeing as this has been the busiest week of my life, EVER. Packing was fun.  All the clothes in my suitcase are new, mostly, because none of my old clothes fit anymore.  To date, I’ve lost 46 lbs, which feels pretty fuckin’ good.  12 of those pounds happened in the last week, since my most recent fill–it’s kinda crazy.  The ladies at the gas station down the street keep telling me that I’m melting.  That’s a fairly apt description for how I feel myself.  There’s less and less of me everyday.  Weird and awesome.   The thing I’m most looking forward to about this vacation is turning my cell phone for 10 days, and not being around a computer.  Technology has infiltrated my life, and I’ve forgotten how I lived pre-cell phone and internet.  I’m going to have a brief Renaissance with the technological dark ages, and I can’t wait.  I hope we have to call for room service on a Gilligan-inspired coconut phone.   

You Want Some Who? February 29, 2008

Winter term is over.  Already.  I mean, I still have arts finals next week, and academic finals the week after, but the classes are pretty much done.  This is blowing my mind.  I had an inkling that time would become something of a rubberband slingshot, but I didn’t expect it to go quite this quickly.   The great thing is that the slingshot ends with a huge accomplishment, immediately followed by a fantastic week of sun and surf, then spending the summer painting a show that is personally important to me, and moving to L.A. when the lease runs out.  The unfortunate thing about the slingshot is that rubber bands have a tendency to snag in hair and they sting when they snap.  Everything that is happening is wonderful and great and exciting and I feel like I’m on the right path, like a tuning fork is vibrating inside of me, but it will not be painless or easy, and I will probably curse a lot.  16 days to Hawaii.  I’m beside myself I’m so excited.  I’ll get to see an old friend from Asheville when we are in Kauai, which is such a lovely bonus!!  I’m wishing for the days to pass quicker, and panicking because I’m getting my wish…somehow that sounds like Heller’s definition of Crazy in Catch 22.  Project Runway last night…oh my gaaah.  Christian is a stand-out talent but his stuff is starting to all look the same; the silhouettes and angularity are ever-present.  I think I’m throwing in with the Jillian camp.  She’s good.  I like her style and her attitude, saucy but still dignified.  She needs to quit with the high-waisted shorts and sweater combo, however.  I’m sad Chris had to go, but The One Dress that Rami made was, in fact, kinda gorgeous.   I’m ready to see the runway show. I went clothes shopping last night…not a single pair of pants that I own would stay on my body.  I have already dropped two pants sizes, come to find out.  It was pretty amazing and I spent too much money.  But I got The Cutest pair of green capris…you know I will rock them right.  In Hawaii.  In 16 days.    And I’m still girl crazy.  

The Rub, Quite Literally February 25, 2008

Alright, I’m gonna get personal for a second here.   I have noticed a trend within myself, whereby after not having sex for six months, I go bat-shit crazy like a miniature schnauzer in heat, wanting to rub myself on something at least twice a day, if not twice an hour.  It’s intense.  This phase lasts about three months, if this time is like any other Dry Spell.  Months six to nine are really rough for me.  I don’t know why.  What I do know is that I can’t think straight, and what with the coming of the spring breezes, well…someone, somewhere is in for it in a big way.  I feel like I’m going to explode.  I feel like the blood is boiling in my veins.  I feel like I might gain some clarity if I were to bang my head on a wall until dizzy.  I’m a big, whiny baby, I know.  And I’ve certainly gone longer than six months since sexual activity begin, but ye gads! six to nine months is a special, frenzied time, especially when those months correspond with the changing of the seasons.  Do you think my ovaries know it’s a time for rebirth?   Given these specific circumstances, I have been devoting entirely too much to the Pursuit of Scandal.  I need to do something a little crazy to spice things up, something to serve as the hallmark of Total Insanity that I am preparing to descend into, with spring break, and then graduation, and the summer time so close I can almost grab it.   I have a pretty good idea how I’d like this craziness to manifest, but it’s a tricky situation, hard to maneuver.  Some days, it feels impossible, but then she smiles at me with this secret twinkle, and speaks in code that I have to break down, analyze, replay, adding layers to this clandestine dance in which we are engaged.  She’s a riddle, and a Pandora’s Box, an Untouchable.  My charms are hard to resist, however, when I’m laying them on so pretty, and she is warming just like the ground; slowly, but consistently.   Really, I need to focus on graduating.  I just have to get there.  Three short months.  They will probably be the fastest three months of my life, and then onto the next chapter in this epic adventure that just gets more exciting every.  single.  day.   I am seriously girl crazy right now.  It’s ridiculous.  I’m a grown ass woman.  Maybe that is precisely the issue at hand; stupid spiking sex drive.   

No More Early Evening Naps! February 22, 2008

I have class in less than six hours, and I can’t sleep, all because of a stupid, delicious, luxuriant one and a half hour nap I took after dinner.  I am not a Napper.  I never have been.  It just doesn’t work out well for me; either I’m wide awake til four a.m. or I’m totally discombobulated until I go back to bed.  I refuse to do homework this late at night, having promised myself I won’t pull any more all-nighters at this damn school.  I’ve lost enough sleep to this institution already, and I see no reason why three more months of solidarity on this issue will hurt me in the long run.  Writing has been hard lately.  I have so much to say about so many things, too much, probably, and I can’t seem to focus on any one thing to relay in this blog.  Additionally, so many of my recent musings are complicated and weighty, major life decisions…for some reason, I am hesitating to write about them.  Which is weird, because I generally enjoy throwing the pieces out and watching where they land; it excites me for some sick reason.   Since my ADD is taking on incredible portions lately, as I am forced to constantly multi-task, I think the time is right for a list.  Here are the major bullet points that my brain has been tossing around this week: 1. Time moves faster Every. Single. Day.  2. I graduate in less than one hundred days.  This is a serious milestone in my life, never having graduated from high school, and being almost-30.  3. My last academic show is in production now.  The marble floor I’m painting is ridiculously gorgeous (and totally fantastical); it’s an electric blue base, with saturate red veins, and black marbling on top of that, with a high-gloss finish.  De-lish.  4.  It would appear that I have made a friend (who happens to be my best friends new boyfriend) who will, in all likelihood, provide me with the contact to his uncle, who  happens to own an apartment that is coming up for rent the very same day my lease is up, in the very neighborhood that I am looking to move into.  Hello, Silver Lake!!  Moving to Los Angeles is, all of a sudden, a feasible reality.  Not only that, but it happens to be my picture-perfect dream; a view of the Hollywood sign from the front yard, orange and lime trees in the backyard, smack dab in the middle of the biggest scenic artist enclave in L.A., and only six blocks away from two of my best friends in West Hollywood!  Oh, and did I mention it’s unofficially rent controlled?  For my own place in the neighborhood of my dreams, I would be paying less than I had initially budgeted to split with a roommate.  I’d be paying less than my friend who has a nice place in West Hollywood with Six Other People.  It is, quite literally, The Golden Oppurtunity.  I kinda can’t believe it.  Maybe it’s true, if you put your desires and dreams out into The Ethers, strong enough and often enough, maybe there’s a return? 5.  In nineteen days, I will be in Hawaii, on a ten day, all expenses paid vacation with my ex-girlfriend.   I don’t even know.  6. I’ve lost 38 pounds since my surgery.  I feel good mostly, it’s nice that people are noticing and complimenting, I eat a much healthier diet and am certainly experiencing the benefits of that, but I am seeing the downsides now, too.  A) I don’t drink caffeine anymore.  I had no idea how hard that would make staying awake for school.  It’s hard.  I’ve been drinking caffeine for 20 years, regularly, and had never really realized how much I had come to rely on it, as a stimulant to keep me going.  I will have to learn to be a napper, I guess.  B) I had one drink a couple of nights ago, and although I never got close to drunk, the next day I had a hangover as if I’d had six drinks.   C) I’m getting hit on a lot by girls at school, which, at first glance is an excellent thing, except for the fact that they’re all under 20, and that’s just not okay anymore.  It’s flattering, and it’s fun to flirt, but I’d like it if an age-appropriate woman around school would make eyes at me, for once.  7.  I am totally addicted to The Office DVD’s and I’ve been watching them, in no particular order, compulsively.  I don’t have TV, remember.  Dwight is my new favorite.  I want to watch The Office right now.  8.  Job Fair is in two and a half weeks, and I don’t even Kind Of have my portfolio together.  It is fair to say that I am starting to panic.  9.  For the first time in years, I dreamed about Dark Roast tonight, while napping.  She was really happy to see me, we were really happy to see each other, I should say, and she kept hugging me and laughing and we had a great conversation full of smiles, almost giddiness.   I could smell her in my dream, she always had this intoxicating scent of Aveda hair products and something else, maybe the swamp-water of Louisiana in her blood.  I haven’t felt warmly about her in quite some time, probably because I haven’t thought about her much at all.  It was nice to wake up smiling from an imaginary interaction with her; I have always felt a vacancy since meeting Dark Roast, more something she created inside of me than anything she ever filled.  I wish we could be friends, but she will always probably be a danger to me or any serious relationship I might be in.  You wouldn’t be able to say ‘no’ to her, either.  I texted her when I woke up, our first communication in two years.  She replied, civil enough, instantaneously.  I don’t want to open any doors that have been pleasantly shut for years, but I woke up tonight with an interest in how and what she’s doing.  Bizarre.  I haven’t heard her voice in years, I’ve trained myself not to think about her much, and she appeared tonight, like a Faustian Helen, waving at me from the dark side.  Now that’s it 3 a.m. and I’m probably risking sleeping through my alarm in the morning, I’m going to try to get some sleep.